The coffee cart at Sunnydale Memorial bustles with activity. The barista takes a moment to adjust the mouse ears perched on her head, smiling sheepishly at the two women standing at her counter.

“You’re getting in the holiday spirit a little early,” one of the customers remarks with a smile.

“The pediatrics ward does a Halloween parade,” the barista answers. “The kids get dressed up and trick-or-treat to some of the departments.” She gives the ears a final tug and reaches for their lattes just as the machine automatically stops foaming. As she puts the lids on their cups, she adds, “With Halloween falling on the weekend, we decided to do the parade a little early.”

“That’s nice,” the second woman says, trying to muster up a smile.

Her companion notices the catch in her voice and puts a reassuring hand on her forearm, giving her a concerned look. “Beth?”

“I’m okay,” Beth says, accepting her coffee. “Thank you,” she says to the barista, dropping her coins into the tip jar.

The two women leave the bar, making their way back to a quiet table in the corner of the café. A young girl sits at the table, carefully coloring a page in a half completed sketchbook. Her long brown hair is tied back haphazardly, bangs hanging over her eyes. The cuffs of her shirt are stained with crayon and that matches the overall unkempt look of her clothing. “Mommy,” she says brightly, as the two women sit down, “look at my picture!”

Beth shoots a quick look at the book, nodding. “That’s nice, baby,” she says absently as she begins to dig in her purse for something.

The little girl’s face falls, then she looks at the other woman. “Hallie, see my picture?”

Hallie looks intently, studying the carefully constructed scene. “That’s beautiful, Sam!” She looks more closely, tapping her finger on one of the figures. “Is this you?”

“Mhmm,” Sam says, pleased. She points to the other figures one by one. “And that’s Mommy, and Daddy, and Jessie.” She touches the house she’s drawn behind them. “And this is our new house, where we’ll live when Jessie wakes up.”

Hallie looks at the blonde stick figure standing beside the little girl’s self-portrait. “That’s great!” She says enthusiastically, watching Beth from the corner of her eye. Beth is immersed now in a stack of articles, highlighting information in bright yellow. She doesn’t look over at her daughter.

Samantha’s longing for her mother’s attention is so obvious it threatens to stop Hallie’s breath in her chest. All the years she’s been doing this, and it never gets any weaker—the way their pain calls out to her, plucking at her heart and her mind until she just has to intervene. Samantha had caught her eye recently when she’d come to town to check up on an old friend. Hallie hadn’t intended to stay but she’d passed the mother and daughter in a store and almost fallen over from the force of the little girl’s suffering.

It had been two years since her older sister had fallen from their tree house and cracked her head open. The official prognosis for Jessie was very poor, as it is for all people in persistent vegetative states. This hadn’t stopped Beth from spending almost all her free time at the hospital. By the time Hallie met them, ‘Daddy’ had long since moved on, and Sam was five years old, with little memory of the time when her sister had moved among the living. Meeting the two caused a change of plans, and several weeks later, Hallie finds herself seated in the café, friendly enough with Beth to ensure access to Samantha.

“Dr. Bhatti!” Beth suddenly exclaims, hopping from her chair and moving in pursuit of the short doctor down the hall.

Hallie watches her go, doubtlessly off to mention something new she’s read about people coming out of persistent comas. It’s pathetic. Hallie would almost feel sorry for her, except for her daughter. She turns brown eyes back to the little girl, giving her a gentle smile. “I guess it’s just me and you, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, sounding disappointed for a moment. There’s a short wave of sadness from the girl, and then she smiles. “That’s okay. You want to draw with me?”

“Sure,” Hallie agrees, picking up a crayon and accepting the piece of paper shoved in her direction. As she begins to doodle, she looks surreptitiously at Sam. “You guys sure spend a lot of time here.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, lip jutting out slightly.

“It’d be nice if things could be different, huh?” Hallie prods.

“Yeah,” Sam says again. She looks uninterested, but Hallie can tell the wheels are turning in her head.

“What would you like them to be like?” Hallie asks, her voice curious.

Sam shrugs, exchanging her crayon for another and continuing to work on her picture.

“Oh, come on,” Hallie says mischievously. “You must wanna have fun sometime! What would you wish for?”

Hallie waits for it, her mind running through possible scenarios of what the child might wish for.

Beth drops into the seat beside her, looking utterly dejected. “I wish we never lost anyone,” she says, her voice dull. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Looking at Beth for a moment, Hallie feels frustrated. She was trying to get the child to wish. Still… she can work with this.  She stands up, walking away before she lets her human visage drop. “Done,” she says to herself. The pendant on her chest glows bright red, then fades back to flat stone.

XXXXX

“Historically speaking, demons find the commercialization of Halloween to be beneath them. Rarely does anyone cause mischief on October 31st, and if mischief simply must be had, they do try to wait until the clock rolls over to November 1st,” Giles says.

Buffy is still standing in the doorway, gaping at him.

Self-consciously, Giles removes the sombrero he’d been trying on.  He divests himself of the poncho as well. With Halloween only two days away, there’s little time to find another costume. He had quite liked it before Buffy’s obvious bewilderment was made clear to him. “I’m saying I don’t expect we’ll have any problems.” Giles is fully prepared to enjoy his night off as well. Technically, they’re all his nights off, as he’s been unemployed ever since Sunnydale High was reduced to rubble, but he plans to enjoy a stiff drink and a cable movie after he finishes giving out his candy.

“But…” Buffy gestures limply at the poncho draped across his chair.

“It’s festive!” He insists with a sigh. “I thought there was a party you were interested in going to.”

“There is,” she answers, finally dragging her eyes from his costume to his face, “but I don’t know, Giles, I’ve got a major wiggins.”

When he doesn’t reply, Buffy looks up to see him frozen in place.

“Hello?” Buffy waves her hand in front of his face. “Are you listening to me? My spidey senses are tingling. There’s trouble in paradise. Timmy’s down the well.” Getting no response, Buffy turns to look over her shoulder. “Oh. My. God,” she mutters.

“Rupert?” The woman in the doorway says, her voice sounding strong and familiar although her body is disturbingly translucent.

“Jenny,” Giles says, on the verge of tears.

Buffy steps aside as the two reunited lovers drift toward each other. “I’ll just,” she trails off, seeing that they are paying her no mind, “go away now,” she finishes under her breath. It’s time to find the gang.

XXXXX

“I’m just saying,” Anya points out aggressively, “that we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’d like to know what that means.”

“Uh-huh,” Xander agrees, eyes glued to the TV. On screen, a bewildered reporter stands in front of Sunnydale Memorial Hospital.

“Do you not want to be my boyfriend?” Anya demands, her voice shrill. “I give you many orgasms. I don’t understand.” Her hands are on her hips, color high in her cheeks as her mood becomes increasingly direr.

Xander raises his hand, rudely cutting off the flow of her words as he increases the volume on the TV.

“Some are calling it a miracle,” the reporter says in an aggressively cheerful voice. “Earlier this afternoon, all patients in the long term care ward of the hospital spontaneously regained consciousness. Hospital staff would not speculate as to potential causes…”

Xander narrows his eyes thoughtfully. This does not seem right.

“Xander!” Anya says, unwilling to remain quiet.

Xander drags his attention from the TV, wheels turning in his head. “Okay, I’m your boyfriend,” he agrees. Anya is weird; that much is sure. She’s also pretty, and smart, and she’s not wrong about all the orgasms she’s been giving him. He could do a lot worse.

“Really?” Anya beams at him, seemingly overcome with happiness. “Do you want to have sex now?”

“Uhh,” Xander says, trying to tear his eyes from the buttons Anya is already undoing on her shirt, “let’s press pause on that. Something weird’s going on.”

Pouting, Anya’s hands still.

Xander looks back at the TV reporter, still droning on. Oh, screw it. “Come here,” he says, reaching for Anya.

XXXXX

Willow and Oz each peer out a window in the back of his van. “This is not good,” she repeats for the fifth time, her voice a squeak.

“Very not good,” Oz agrees, watching a graceless, decaying corpse shuffle by his window. “I thought zombies were one of those things that weren’t actually real.”

“That’s leprechauns,” Willow says, still peering out at the passing zombie. There are a few others walking aimlessly nearby. “We’d better find Buffy,” she suggests, moving back to the front seat.

Oz gets in the driver’s seat, starting the van. He pulls away, careful not to hit any of the stumbling bodies.

XXXXX

When Xander enters Giles’s apartment with Anya trailing after him, the living room is oddly quiet. Willow sits sandwiched between Buffy and Oz, all of them staring unabashedly in Giles’s direction. “What’s going on?” Anya asks, after plowing into Xander’s abruptly stopped form. She peers over his shoulder. “Who’s the ghost?”

Swallowing hard, Xander asks, “Ms. Calendar?”

Jenny’s dressed as she was in life, in a sweater and long skirt. She even seems to have on make-up. The only problem is that the fabric of the couch is visible through her body. “Hello, Xander,” she says lightly.

Seeing that Giles’s eyes are locked on the ghost of his former love, Xander turns to look at his friends. “Uh…?”

“Ms. Calendar’s here. Also, we have zombies,” Buffy tells him with a weirdly bright smile.

Xander’s beginning to feel ill. “Uh, like, Resident Evil zombies, or like Thriller zombies?”

Buffy squints at him. “You’re asking if the zombies were doing a flash mob?”

“They mostly seemed to be walking around confused,” Willow says, looking to Oz for confirmation. “We didn’t actually see them eating anyone.”

Oz nods in agreement. They hadn’t seen any in Giles’s neighborhood. The zombies were slow moving and hadn’t made it very far from the graves they’d obviously crawled out of.

“That’s good,” Xander says, nervousness clear in his voice. “Non-hungry zombies are the best kind.”

“You’ve been watching too many movies,” Giles says, finally managing to look away from Jenny. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Zombies are merely moving corpses. They don’t eat human flesh.”

“Unless commanded to by their master,” Anya adds, stepping around Xander to seat herself.

“Right,” Giles agrees, and Anya gives herself a mental pat on the back. And to think, Xander had claimed she wasn’t helpful!

“So, we have zombies,” Jenny says, and then gestures to herself, “and obviously ghosts. Clearly someone is raising the dead.”

Xander is momentarily speechless from the weirdness of seeing their dead teacher sitting on the couch. Shaking himself out of it, he strides forward, locating the remote for Giles’s TV and flipping it on. “Speaking of which,” he says, “we might have another problem.” He scrolls through the channels, looking for news. “We saw a story on earlier about the coma patients at the hospital. Ah, here it is.”

On screen, a noticeably less chipper reporter stands outside the hospital. “In a bizarre turn of events, it seems the patients who awakened from their comas today have fled the hospital, leaving distraught family members and bewildered doctors in their wake. The police tonight are searching for these patients, some of whom are minors, in an attempt to shed some light on this mystery. Eye Witness News has obtained this photo, taken earlier today, which shows three of the patients.” The photo flashes on the screen. “If you see any of these people, the police have asked that they be notified immediately.”

“Wait a minute,” Giles mutters, quickly moving to his VCR and hitting the record button. He lets it go until they move on to the next news story, then rewinds the tape.

“What is it?” Buffy asks, leaning forward. 

Pausing at the frame he wants, Giles taps the screen. “Do you see this mark?” There appears to be a red symbol on the arm of one of the patients. 

“What’s it mean?” Willow asks, trying to make out exactly what it is. The photo is blurry, but there does seem to be something there.

Giles stands up, knees cracking. “Maybe nothing,” he says. “Let me make a phone call.” He takes the phone toward the kitchen, managing to walk by Jenny without goggling.

Buffy casts a concerned look around the room.  “You guys realize… if all the coma patients are awake… that means Faith is, too.” The thought makes her heart beat a little too hard. Her tumultuous relationship with Faith ended with Faith in a coma, something Buffy feels no small amount of guilt over. Yes, Faith forced her hand. She knew exactly what she was doing when she gave Angel a poison whose only cure was slayer blood. Buffy’s never been able to fully accept that though, especially knowing that there must have been some part of Faith that was still reachable. Faith came to her in a dream and helped them defeat the Mayor. After everything that happened between them, she still helped. That means something. Buffy feels sure of it. Faith could be awake right now, lost and confused, and maybe she’s sorry. Maybe they both are.

“Faith?” Jenny asks curiously.

Willow gives their former teacher a sad smile. “She was called after Kendra. Um, Drusilla killed Kendra after you…”

“Died?” Jenny asks with an easy smile. “It’s okay to say it. So, how did Faith end up in a coma?”

Willow notices Buffy’s pained wince, and she says evasively, “It’s a long story.”

Giles saves them from having to answer by reappearing in the doorway. “My contact at the hospital filled me in. I’m afraid these patients waking up was no miracle. They were acting out of sorts.”

“Well, wouldn’t most people be, after waking up from a coma?” Xander asks reasonably.

Giles inclines his head in agreement. “Yes, but she said they seemed rather malicious.  One of the nurses was attacked. I think we need to consider worst case scenarios.”

“Such as?” Buffy asks. Why did it always have to be worst case scenarios? Just once couldn’t the best case scenario happen? Couldn’t a bunch of coma people just wake up and live happily ever after?

Giles looks grim as he begins to hand out books. “Something woke up today, but it wasn’t those people.”

XXXXX

“The Inhabitants,” Giles says, holding up the tome he’s reading, “are a group of opportunistic spirits who take possession of uninhabited bodies in certain instances.” He points to the familiar looking symbol on the page. “This is the symbol I saw on the news. It has appeared on the left arm in each known case of possession.”

“What do these spirits want?” Willow asks.

“What every spirit wants,” he answers with a sad glance at Jenny, “to live again.”

“But they’re evil, right?” Xander asks. If they’re just people, people like Ms. Calendar, then the thought of denying them life seems much sadder.

“Not strictly speaking,” Giles says. “They were most likely average people in life, but while most spirits move on to permanent rest, the Inhabitants, for whatever reason, were unable to do that. They’ve stayed in this plane, doomed to observe life but never experience it. They are unable to communicate, even with each other, and over time, well, I’m afraid they’ve been driven to the point of insanity.”

Jenny reads from the book, over Giles’s shoulder. “With time, the possessors grow stronger, so they cannot be ejected from the host. If the possession becomes permanent, the Inhabitants will create a bridge between the realities, allowing more of their kind to possess bodies, even to the point of evicting living souls.”

“Okay, so, spiritual possession, bad,” Buffy says. “Do we think this is related to the zombies and Jenny somehow?”

“It seems too coincidental for these events to be separate,” Giles says, frowning. “We need to get more information. I’ll go to the hospital, see what else I can learn. The rest of you should research, see if you can find a spell to de-possess the patients. Obviously we’ll need to deal with the zombies and,” he glances at Jenny, “other events soon, but I think this is the most pressing issue we need to address.”

Buffy gets to her feet as Giles does. “One of them is walking around in Faith’s body,” she points out. “I don’t want to think about what an insane ghost can do with all that power.”

“We can use the tranq gun and Oz’s cage,” Willow suggests.

“Good plan,” Buffy agrees. They keep an extra tranq gun in Giles’s hall closet, and she retrieves it quickly.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Willow asks, sounding worried.

“I can handle it,” Buffy says. She doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt, and with an insane ghost taking up residence in Faith’s body, who knows what could happen?

XXXXX

It doesn’t take too long to find the Inhabitants in their stolen bodies. Apparently their particular brand of crazy does not include a great instinct for self-preservation. Even the Sunnydale police would be able to find them. The fact that they haven’t yet is only a testament to their ineptitude, not a reflection on the ghosts’ skills. Buffy tracks them to the mall, where they’ve wasted no time creating a disturbance. They’re running through the food court, leaping over counters and shoveling stolen meals into their mouths. Buffy wrinkles her nose in disgust when she spots the closest one draping chow mein over his ears in apparent glee.

Buffy’s happy for the distraction, since walking through the mall with a tranq rifle slung over your shoulder isn’t exactly incognito. She’s less happy that she doesn’t spot Faith anywhere in the melee. She follows the roving band of possessed people through the mall until she’s sure that Faith isn’t anywhere to be found. Then she slinks away, leaving the group of them for someone else to deal with. Slipping into the alcove where the payphones and ATMs are located, she drops a quarter into the phone and dials Giles’s number.

He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Buffy says. “I’ve found the Looney Tunes, but Faith’s not with them.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been trailing them for a while. She’s not here,” Buffy says. “I’ll keep looking. The town’s not that big; she can’t have gotten far.”

“Good,” he agrees, sounding distracted.

“Did you find out anything at the hospital?” As Buffy peers out of the alcove, one of the possessed patients goes streaking by, his stick thin legs and pale white buttocks doing nothing to distract from his flapping penis. “Yeeeugh,” Buffy groans, as two security guards chase after him, discarded gown in tow.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Giles says. “I talked to a rather distraught mother of one of the children. It seems she wished that no one would die…”

“She wished?” Buffy picks up on this immediately. “Was it Anya, because I don’t care how much Xander likes her, I will—”

“It wasn’t,” Giles interjects. “Anya is still human.”

In the background, Buffy hears Anya protesting, “Why does everyone always assume it was me? Just because I was a demon for hundreds of years!? I’m reformed now.”

“Ahem,” Giles clears his throat, cutting off Anya’s diatribe. “We believe it was another demon whom Anya was acquainted with, by the name of Halfrek.”

“Do we have a way to reverse this?”

“Halfrek is long gone by now,” Giles says with a sigh, “and not responding to our attempts to contact her via Anya.”

“But the only way to end a vengeance demon’s spell is to destroy their source of power, right?” Buffy asks, worried.

“That we know of, yes,” Giles admits. “We’re searching. I’m sure we’ll find something. In the meantime, you keep looking for Faith.”

“I will.”

“Buffy,” Giles says with some trepidation in his voice, “the fact that she’s not with the other Inhabitants may suggest that she isn’t possessed.”

Buffy gnaws on her bottom lip, unsure whether this is welcome news or not. “Meaning she’s actually herself?”

Giles follows his train of thought. “The Inhabitants were able to take over the patients’ bodies because, technically, their souls are no longer attached to them, and Halfrek’s spell allowed an opening for them. If Faith’s soul were still with her body, they’d be unable to enter.”

“Are you saying… Faith would eventually have woken up?”

“All I’m saying is that at the moment of the spell, it’s possible she wasn’t technically gone from her body. Of course, things can change, and her soul may have moved on later if this hadn’t happened. We can’t know.”

Screams and maniacal laughter invade the phone area, and Buffy frowns. It’s time to beat a hasty retreat from the mall before the police show up. “Okay. I’ll find her.”

“Be careful,” Giles says. “You have no idea what her state of mind is. She may be dangerous.”

Buffy knows what he’s saying is true but now that she knows Faith may be wandering around, alone and confused, she’s even more determined to find her. “I will. I’ll call once I have something,” she promises, hanging up the phone. Police sirens can be heard approaching the mall. One of the security guards goes sliding past the door to the alcove on his butt, with the naked patient chasing after him. Buffy leaps over his fallen form gracefully, walks to the exit, and disappears just before the cops arrive.

XXXXX

If Faith is really Faith, then there are only a few places Buffy can think of where she might go. She walks in the general direction of both, tumbling the possibilities over in her mind. Faith might be at her apartment. She might want to see her things and change her clothes. On the other hand, she may want to see what happened to the Mayor. She was out of commission before the ascension so she won’t have any way of knowing. When Buffy reaches a turning point, she pauses, and then forks right. Her intuition tells her Faith would choose the school.

The walk is short and it doesn’t allow her a lot of time to think about what she’ll say. With everything else that’s going on, the last thing they need is an unpredictable slayer roaming the streets. It’s only smart to find Faith and keep her close. But there’s another reason to look for her—one that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else—and that’s that she’s worried. Faith’s got to be weakened and disoriented. She’ll be easy pickings for anything that smells a slayer. Buffy needs to convince Faith to trust her somehow. She needs to get her somewhere safe.

She stops walking in front of the rubble of Sunnydale High School. Most of the school collapsed in the explosion. The bomb in the library combined with the giant snake monster that knocked down walls in his haste left the building condemned. Some of the external walls are still standing, with a few rooms left relatively untouched. A fence surrounds the property, but Buffy knows there are places where it’s been cut. She’s seen kids sneaking in at night. She follows the fence, ducking through when she finds a weak spot.

It’s strange, stepping back into the school. It was the scene of many of the worst moments of her life, but also some of the best. Still, she never expected to step foot here again. She keeps her footsteps light, both to avoid disturbing the rubble too much, and to keep the element of surprise. It isn’t until she reaches the most destroyed part of the school, the wing where the library once stood, that she spies Faith. Buffy stops, her eyes trained on the other slayer’s thin back. Faith’s long hair looks unkempt, her body too small and frail in the ill-fitting clothing she wears.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Faith asks, her voice almost too quiet to be heard over the wind whispering through the crumbling walls.

Her voice is raspy from lack of use, and Buffy swallows down the sudden rush of sympathy she feels. Careful to keep her tone neutral, Buffy answers, “Human weakness.”

Faith looks sharply over her shoulder, turning so that she can keep Buffy in her sights.

“Do you remember that?” Buffy asks softly. She takes a cautious step closer, and Faith takes a matching step away. The charred floorboards creak ominously, and Buffy stops moving. The decaying wood is all that keeps them both from dropping into the basement and probably being impaled on something along the way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Faith says, but she’s never been a very convincing liar.

“Yes, you do,” Buffy says.  She looks carefully at Faith. She’s too thin, too pale, but still so pretty that it’s hard to look away from her. “Are you okay?”

“Five by five,” Faith says dismissively.

Nodding, Buffy almost wants to turn around and leave. Talking to Faith has never been easy, not with the way she refuses to ever let anyone in. She’s always five by five. Something’s gotta give or they’ll end up back in the same place they were before. “I tried to kill you,” she says, her voice sounding too loud to her own ears.

Faith looks alarmed by her new topic of conversation.

“I tried to kill you, and you did kill someone. We both made a lot of mistakes, but we don’t have to keep making them.” Buffy takes a step back, on to more steady ground. “I’m sorry,” she says honestly, her eyes locked on Faith’s. “More sorry than you will ever know.”

Faith stands among the collapsed plaster and singed wood of the library, holding her jacket closed, arms tucked tightly against her stomach. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to be hearing this from Buffy. Why does she feel so relieved hearing Buffy apologize? An apology doesn’t make up for someone trying to kill you. It doesn’t make up for them never caring about you or being there for you. It doesn’t make up for pretending there’s nothing boiling under the surface between the two of you even though it’s so obvious there is.

“Can you come out?” Buffy asks, eyeing the room nervously. “It’s not safe in there.”

“I don’t need your help,” Faith says flatly, not moving.

“I know you don’t,” Buffy says agreeably, “but I could use yours. The other patients at the hospital aren’t themselves. There was a spell, and now they’re being possessed by spirits.” She tries to smile a little. “Plus we have zombies.”

Faith blinks. “Yeah, I saw those.”

“So why don’t you come with me, and—”

“And what?” Faith interrupts harshly. “What are you doing here, Buffy?”

Buffy looks away, trying to determine what she needs to say to get Faith to listen. She doesn’t look like she’s on the verge of evil. Buffy could just leave. She tried to get through to her and it didn’t work. Sometimes that happens. But Faith looks like a little kid in her stolen clothes, with her too big eyes in her too thin face, and Buffy knows she can’t really leave. “I’m here because I hate what happened between us,” she says honestly, “and I want to make things right. I’m here because I care.”

Faith looks skeptical.

“I know you care about me,” Buffy challenges. “You could have let that vamp kill me at the docks and you didn’t. You could have let the ascension go off without a hitch and you didn’t. Even after everything that happened, you still helped me. So for once, can we just skip the defensiveness and weird mixed signals? Can you just come out of there?” Buffy holds out her hand, not stepping back into the fragile room. “Please?”

Faith looks at her outstretched hand. It’s just so hard to believe that things can really be any different with Buffy. She used to want her so much. She reached out in every way she knew how to, but it never paid off. Not only did Buffy never reciprocate her feelings, she wasn’t even her friend. The harder Faith tried, the further Buffy ran away. What’s the alternative though? She’s got nothing and nobody to turn to anymore. Faith walks hesitantly across the room, the wood groaning under her slight weight. Halfway there, she can feel cracks deepening in the burnt, abused surface under her feet.

“Faster,” Buffy urges, wrapping her hand around an exposed piece of mangled pipe. She leans out further toward Faith, hand waiting to grab hers.

Faith picks her way across the floor, every step light and deliberate. The floorboard under her foot snaps, leaving her lurching forward to avoid falling through. Buffy manages to get a fistful of her sleeve, jerking her upward as the floor finally collapses. Faith crashes into Buffy, and the pair tumbles backward onto what seems to be a steadier ground.

“You okay?” Buffy asks as she rolls herself into a sitting position.

Faith does likewise, dusting herself off. “Yeah.” She begins to lose a little of the hardness in her eyes. “Thanks.”

XXXXX

When the door to Buffy’s dorm room closes behind them, Faith lets out an involuntary sigh of relief. Spending the day at Giles’s house with Buffy’s friends was exhausting. They all tried to be civil when interacting with her, but Faith knows they were uncomfortable, all of them except the ghost.  It figures that the only person who can stand to be around her is already dead.

“I’m gonna get a shower,” Buffy says, picking up some things to take with her. “Do you need to borrow some stuff?”

Faith shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Am I crashing here?” She gestures toward one of the twin beds.

Buffy nods. It’s Willow’s, but whatever. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”

While she washes her hair, Buffy thinks about the events of the day. The gang managed to keep their lingering animosity toward Faith mostly under wraps. For her part, Buffy finds that her anger toward Faith has fizzled. It’s been gone for a while, probably since the moment she slid the knife into Faith’s gut. The others can afford to be self-righteous. They haven’t tried to kill a human being. Buffy’s got no legs to stand on in that column. She’s forgiving Faith’s trespasses because she wants hers to be forgiven, too.

By the time she gets back to her room, Faith’s curled up in Willow’s bed, her hands folded under her chin, still wearing the clothes from earlier. She’s asleep, but her eyes are moving rapidly under her lids. She’s dreaming. Buffy quietly combs out her hair and puts her shower stuff away. Clicking off the lamp between the beds, she gets under her covers. She tries to relax her muscles and clear her mind, but sleep doesn’t come.

Two hours later, she’s only just barely drifted off when Faith begins moaning as if in pain. Buffy’s eyes snap open, on instant alert. There’s no one in the room other than the two of them. Faith’s on her back, blankets kicked off. Her face is scrunched, brows knit as if fearful. “No,” she mumbles to herself, her hands fluttering limply against the bed.

Buffy sits up.

Faith twists, moaning feebly again. Her hand touches her stomach, over the scar Buffy knows she’s got to have. A pitiful cry sounds in her throat, as if being swallowed.

Watching this scene, Buffy’s chest feels tight. Faith must be dreaming of her, as her hands mimic grasping for the knife stuck in her belly. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Buffy calls quietly, “Faith.”

She can hear Faith’s heartbeat racing, see her chest rising and falling much too fast. “Faith,” Buffy says more urgently, standing up now.

Faith doesn’t wake, just keeps making the most gut-wrenching moans Buffy’s ever heard.

Walking toward the bed, Buffy hesitates alongside it, unsure whether waking to find Buffy hovering over her will only frighten Faith more. She’s close enough now to see the tear tracks on Faith’s wan face.

Grasping Faith’s shoulder gently, Buffy gives her a slight shake. “Faith?”

Faith wakes with a gasp, pulling away from Buffy’s touch. “What?” Her hand goes to her abdomen, clutching at her shirt before her eyes clear.

“You were dreaming,” Buffy observes, letting her hand fall back to her side. “Sounded like a nightmare.” About me, she wants to add, but knowing that is enough to make her almost collapse with guilt. She doesn’t think she can handle talking about it.

“Oh,” Faith says, her hand now hovering over her too fast heart. In the dark, Buffy looks bigger than she is. Her shadow falls on the bed, covering Faith’s legs. Faith tries not to shrink back, not wanting Buffy to know she’s afraid.

Buffy steps back toward her own bed, giving Faith space. “You okay?” She asks. “It sounded pretty bad.”

“I have that dream all the time,” Faith answers dismissively. “It’s nothing.” The dreams where Buffy chases her and tries to kill her aren’t even the worst ones. Faith’s psyche seems to delight in thinking up ways for dream-Buffy to hurt her. In one of her dreams, she cuts out her own heart and hands it to Buffy, who promptly drives a stake through it and starts making a sandwich. Her subconscious is not that subtle.

“You dream? In uh, your coma?” Buffy asks, pretending Faith’s words haven’t made her feel sick. Faith dreams all the time of Buffy hurting her?

“Yes,” Faith says stiffly, obviously not wanting to talk about it.

Buffy sits down on the edge of her bed, folding her hands in her lap. “I tried a couple times,” she admits, “to make myself have a dream with you.” She’d lie in bed at night, willing herself to see Faith, to fall into that weird place where they both talk nonsense.

Faith looks at her, surprised. Her brown eyes glitter in the dim light.

“I guess they don’t work that way,” Buffy says quietly.

“Why?” Faith asks.

Buffy shrugs, her eyes downcast. “I couldn’t feel you anymore.” She looks back to Faith. “You know what I mean?”

Faith nods. She can always feel Buffy’s presence. It’s stronger if she focuses on it, like right now. It—the mysterious whatever it is—stretches between them like a living, pulsing entity. It’s quieter and quieter as they move their separate ways, but it roars back to life when they’re together. It’s in her nervous system, making her fingers prickle and her spine tingle.

“I wanted to know,” Buffy begins, then changes her sentence, “I wanted to feel you there.”

“Because if you did, it would mean you didn’t kill me,” Faith says. There’s no accusation in her voice. She’s just pointing out a simple fact.

“Yes,” Buffy admits. She doesn’t flinch from the truth, although she feels her cheeks flush in shame.

“Well,” Faith says mirthlessly, “here I am. Back among the living. Rest easy, B.”

“Maybe after we take care of the zombies,” Buffy says, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

Faith is happy to take the bait. This is all a little too heavy for her. “And the ghosts.”

“Also the dead walking around in the coma people.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” Faith says. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

Buffy lies down, pulling the blanket over herself. She wants to talk more, but obviously Faith needs to rest. She shouldn’t push it. There’s always tomorrow.

XXXXX

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Buffy asks, concerned. Beside her, Faith looks a little peaky. She convinced Buffy to go out on patrol after a fruitless day of researching. The town’s residents by now are in a panic, with walking corpses shambling across their lawns, and deceased grandparents suddenly seated at the dining room table with them. Giles had mumbled a rather promising a-ha! around 4pm, but that was retracted by the time he finished reading the page.  Other than that one moment of false hope, the day had been a complete bust.

With no leads on the horizon, both slayers are getting impatient. Still, as she looks at Faith, Buffy’s not sure this was the best idea. There’s no time to ponder it further though, as they nearly collide with a pair of vampires waltzing out from a mausoleum as if they own the place.

Faith turns a malicious grin in Buffy’s direction, then she plucks her stake off her hip and leaps toward the closest vamp.

“Hey!” He complains, as if he cannot believe he’s being accosted.

Buffy shrugs, going for his friend before the vamps decide to double-team Faith. He fights sloppily, clearly newly turned. It’s no trouble at all to ram a stake in his heart and watch him explode in a cloud of dust. Buffy gives herself a mental pat on the back and turns to watch Faith grappling with her foe.

His skill set is roughly equal to his friend’s, and Faith could have made quick work of taking him out. Instead, she’s toying with him. Buffy hops onto the nearest tombstone, wishing she had some popcorn if Faith were going to make her watch a show. She’s still watching a few moments later, when someone politely taps her on the shoulder.

Buffy turns, surprised, and is face to face with the same vamp she staked just minutes ago.

“Miss me?” He manages to ask, before she slams the stake home again, and he dissolves once more. This time, Buffy watches his dust float gently to the ground. She keeps watching as the particles begin to shake, forming the rough approximation of a man. There’s a soft noise, like hands rubbing together, and then the vamp is lying on the ground again, staring up at her in annoyance.

“Ah!” Buffy says and drops to a crouch, staking him again. She jumps up, flinging her stake at Faith’s vamp and expertly dusting him.

“Hey!” Faith yells, annoyed. “Get your own!”

“I did,” Buffy says, “three times!” She grabs Faith’s hand and begins dragging her away. “They’re not staying dust!”

“What are you talking ab—oh, crap!” Faith finishes as she sees the two of them reforming on the ground. She stops pulling back and begins moving in unison with Buffy, the two of them setting a fast pace toward the cemetery exit.

“This is bad,” Buffy says. “Very bad.”

“Even the vamps won’t stay dead,” Faith grumbles, already becoming out of breath as Buffy forces her to move faster. “When we find this demon, I’m gonna have some choice words for her.”

“You and me both,” Buffy agrees. Faith’s hand is still clasped in hers, and neither of them makes any move to let go. Buffy thinks it must be a security thing. After all, vamps coming back from dust is definitely not part of their normal gig. They’re both a little unnerved.

It reminds her of when they first met. They were on the run from Kakistos, Buffy dragging a terrified Faith behind her as they fled. Now, Faith is physically weaker, but emotionally, it seems like they’re in a much better place. They’ve taken each other through hell and come out on the other side. She’s still Faith—it’s not like they’re going to be painting each other’s nails anytime soon—but she’s softer. Or maybe the difference is Buffy. Maybe all they ever really needed was for one of them to cut all the crap. Maybe Faith, for all her bravado, only ever needed to see that Buffy cared. Whatever it is, Buffy’s glad it’s happening.

Faith pants, and Buffy allows them to slow down. The vamps aren’t behind them. Perhaps they’ve decided to put their invincibility to good use targeting other people they’re more likely to be able to eat. Consulting her watch, Buffy says, “We need to talk to Giles, but it’s pretty late now. He’s probably umm…”

“Having ghost sex,” Faith suggests.

“Ew!” Buffy says. “Wait, do you think they can do that?”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “I have no idea, and I don’t want to find out.”

“Right,” Buffy says, shaking the image from her head. “Let’s go to my Mom’s. It’s closer than campus.”

Faith slows, her hand forcing Buffy to slow as well. “I don’t know if your mom wants to see me, B.” She looks ashamed of her actions for the first time since she’s woken up. With the Scoobies and Giles, Faith’s been totally nonchalant. She doesn’t feel like she owes them much. Joyce is different. She’s nice. She’s a good person. She must think horribly of Faith.

“My mom’s glad you’re awake,” Buffy says. “I talked to her yesterday.” She squeezes Faith’s hand. “It’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Faith asks uncertainly, allowing Buffy to move her forward.

“Yeah,” Buffy says gently, “I promise.”

Faith looks at Buffy’s sincere face. It’s crazy how fast things can change. After everything that’s happened, here they are—the two of them together, talking like actual friends. Buffy taking her home. Buffy looking out for her. Faith doesn’t need that, to be clear. It’s still nice that she wants to.

“Come on,” Buffy encourages. “I bet Mom saved leftovers just in case we stopped by.”

That seals the deal. Faith puts a little speed in her step.

XXXXX

"We've found a way to undo Halfrek's spell," Giles says by way of greeting, when Buffy opens her front door and lets them in.

"That's great!" Buffy says, pleased. She takes in the somber looks on Jenny's and Giles's faces. "Why do you not have great-face?"

Giles motions for them to enter the living room, pulling a book free from his bag. "The spell is old magic, left over from the days when demons were more prevalent on Earth. In the olden days, the walls between the worlds were thought to be thinner on All Hallows' Eve, with spirits passing freely through them. Naturally, some unsavory presences took advantage of this, choosing this night to practice the most unspeakable magic."

"I thought demons found Halloween to be tacky," Buffy interrupts, glaring at Giles. "You told me my spidey senses were off!"

"They do," Giles agrees, "now. Centuries ago, it was a different story."

Jenny takes over. "A group of powerful witches known as the Innisfallen Coven created this spell to undo any dark magic done during All Hallows' Eve."

"Okay," Buffy says, "so what's the catch?"

Giles and Jenny both look over to the couch, where Faith is sitting cross-legged.

“Oh,” she says sourly, understanding what their looks mean.

Buffy gets it too and she shakes her head. “No.”

“Buffy,” Giles begins to say gently, but she cuts him off.

“No, Faith’s not going back into a coma. That’s not an option.”

Faith gets to her feet, not really paying attention to them anymore.

“We’re searching everything we can,” Giles says, “but we’re coming up empty. We can’t allow this to continue. If you’re not able to slay, and no one stays dead…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. They all know what the consequences could be. 

Buffy shakes her head. “Find another way.”

“I don’t think there is one,” Jenny tells them.

“Well, there has to be!” Buffy shouts, before getting control of herself. “There has to be. It’s not fair.” She’s aware she sounds like a petulant child, but she doesn’t care. Faith’s awake. They’re working together. Things are good. This is the second chance they need. It can’t be over. It just can’t.

“When will you do it?” Faith asks, her voice flat.

“It has to be done shortly before midnight,” Giles says, sympathy clear on his face. “It’s very time specific.”

“You can still wake up,” Jenny adds, understanding, perhaps most of all, how Faith is feeling. “Your soul hasn’t moved on. That means you have a chance.”

Faith shakes her head, moving toward the door. She needs to get some air.

XXXXX

Faith stares glumly across the backyard. The lunch Buffy brought out a while ago sits untouched on the tray beside her. It’s a beautiful day, the kind of day most people would probably appreciate if it were their last. Faith doesn’t want a last. She’s nineteen years old, and yes, she’s the slayer, and that means living every day not knowing if you’ll get another, but she’s alive now. She’s breathing and walking, and feeling the breeze ruffling her hair. She can smell the dying leaves and the damp earth, feel the grain of the wood steps warm under her thighs. Tonight she’ll fall back asleep—maybe forever. She’ll be gone back to the nowhere, forgotten and alone. The fear burns fast in her bones, and she wants to run. Run anywhere. But there is nowhere far enough, and she can’t go fast enough to escape, not from this.

“Not hungry?” Jenny’s voice asks, startling Faith. She passed through the wall, having no need for a door. She’s behind Faith, her diaphanous feet creating the illusion of standing on the porch. “Me neither,” Jenny says mischievously, before moving one formless hand through her abdomen.

Faith’s not in the mood for parlor tricks and she turns away, hoping Jenny will take the hint.

“You should eat,” Jenny advises, her voice gentler now. Looking down at the tray, she adds, “Plus, you know what they say, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

“An apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough,” Faith says, baring her teeth slightly.

“Not the incorporeal,” Jenny says, not the least bit threatened.  She seats herself beside Faith uninvited. “You want to talk about it?”

Faith shakes her head.

Jenny respects that for a time, sitting beside her in silence. The spell will be the end for her too, although permanently in her case. For Jenny, there is no hope that some dormant slayer healing may kick in and re-fuel her body. Her life has been over for some time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to let it go. “It isn’t fair,” she says decisively.

Faith’s jaw aches from being clenched so hard.

Jenny adds, “To bring a person back and then take it all away.” She watches Faith from the corner of her eye. Faith’s shoulders are hunched, her neck taut with barely contained grief.

“How are you so calm?” Faith asks.

Jenny considers this for a moment, her hands folded carefully in her lap. “This isn’t my time,” she says finally. “I’m already gone. It’s not fair. I want to shout and kick and curse whatever gods are up there listening, but you know what?”

“What?” Faith asks, turning to look at her.

“I got two more nights with him. I watched him sleep. I looked into his eyes again and I said everything I never got to say.” She smiles sadly. “That was my greatest regret, and now I don’t have to hold on to it anymore. And he doesn’t have to hold on to me. He can let me go.” Jenny reaches for Faith’s hand, and her touch is as fleeting as a spider web. “Life is incredibly unfair sometimes, but it also gives us unexpected gifts. Take it, Faith. If you’ve only got today, make it count.” She leaves Faith to think by herself, heading back to the rest of the Scoobies who continue researching in earnest.

XXXXX

When the sun has set, and they know there’s nothing else to be done, the others go home for a while. Buffy and Faith sit on the couch in the darkening living room. Joyce puts on a movie and takes the seat on the other side of Faith. They order pizza and they laugh at the funny parts of the film. When Joyce puts her arm around her shoulders, Faith leans just slightly into her hold, allowing Joyce to comfort her.

Midnight approaches too fast, and before they know it, the gang is back, bearing spell ingredients and expressions of sympathy.

Buffy is at her side when Faith steps into the chalk circle drawn on the floor. “You’re going to wake up,” she says fiercely.

Faith nods, her stomach in knots. Jenny stands beside her, eyes locked on Giles.

“And I’m going to be there when you do,” Buffy promises.

Behind her, Giles and Willow are double-checking all the spell ingredients.

Faith nods again. Her palms feel damp, and she wipes them on her jeans.

Giles consults his watch. “We have one minute until we can begin,” he says, sharing a nervous look with Willow. The spell is extremely time sensitive. They’ll only have one shot to get it right.

“B,” Faith says, her voice almost catching in her throat. She reaches for Buffy’s arm, dragging her half into the circle.

“Faith, what—” Buffy’s words are cut off as Faith plants her lips on Buffy’s.

There’s a clock ticking down in Faith’s mind as she squeezes both arms around Buffy’s middle and pulls her in hard and close. Fifty-five. Buffy tastes like spearmint gum and sunshine, like California in kiss form. Forty-nine. Her hands slip into Faith’s hair, fingernails on her scalp, palms on her neck, cradling her. Forty-two. It’s the moment of her life—the moment to put all other moments to shame, and Faith can’t get enough. No amount of time would be long enough, but certainly not the thirty-seven seconds they have left. Faith expected she would feel angry, knowing these may well be her last moments, but she’s surprised to find she doesn’t. The only thing she feels is the total and complete elation of finally, finally kissing Buffy Summers, and being kissed back. Twenty-nine. Buffy’s started to cry, and her tears are mixing between their lips, salty and hot.

There’s no time to stop kissing, not when they may never have another, so Faith brings her thumbs to Buffy’s cheeks and wipes her tears away. She doesn’t relinquish Buffy’s mouth. Twenty-two. Buffy’s hands are like claws in her hair. Giles is telling Buffy to move back, get out of the circle. Seventeen.

“Why?” Buffy asks, tearing her mouth away. The back of her hand wipes at her cheeks roughly. Fourteen.

“No regrets,” Faith says wryly, still holding on to Buffy’s arm.  Twelve.

Buffy’s wet eyes search hers.

“Buffy,” Giles says more urgently, “you have to move.” Nine.

Buffy pulls her arm free, leaving just her fingers in Faith’s hand a moment longer. Six. “Remember this,” she whispers, “when you wake up. Promise?”

Three. “I promise,” Faith says, as Buffy’s fingers slip away.

Faith closes her eyes as the last second disappears. Giles and Willow begin to chant. For a moment she thinks she can feel Jenny’s hand, warm, real, and alive, touching her arm, and then she’s gone along with everything else.

XXXXX

Four Months Later

The light is so bright that it hurts to open her eyes. She closes them again. Nearby, she can hear the steady beeping of machines. Electrodes are stuck to the skin of her chest. She tries to move her hand toward them, but wires attached to her fingers make it difficult. She tries opening her eyes again. So bright.

"I don't think you're supposed to take those off," Buffy says, her voice startling Faith. Faith squints to her left. Buffy's tucked in a chair in the corner, her feet curled under her body. "Hi," she says, her smile hopeful.

Faith's brain feels like someone stuck it in the dryer. Her blood on the knife. Falling down into an open grave. Buffy's hand in hers as they run through a cemetery. A chalk circle and Buffy's tears on her lips.

"It's okay," Buffy says, climbing slowly to her feet. Does Faith look as confused as she feels? Buffy's steps are measured, her posture deliberately relaxed as she walks closer.

Faith tries to speak but it sounds like a whimper.

"You don't remember, do you?" Buffy asks, obviously disappointed. Her eyes are round and sad, lips trying desperately to stay in upright position, but already drooping.

Faith tries to focus. Mini golfing with the boss. Kakistos and Diana, no, no, don't think about that. Dancing with Buffy. The vamps won't stay dust.

When Buffy tries to reach for her hand, Faith flinches. She presses back against the pillows as if the extra millimeters of distance will really help.

"Okay," Buffy says, taking a step back. "It's okay. I'll... I'll get someone for you." She turns, walking toward the door to the room.

Faith squeezes her eyes shut tightly. We have one minute until we can begin. If you’ve only got today, make it count. Twenty-nine. She breathes in when Buffy breathes out. Minty fresh mouth. Eighteen. Wide hazel eyes filled with tears. Remember this when you wake up.

Faith opens her eyes. "Buffy?"

In the doorway, Buffy turns around, her gaze sad. "Yeah?"

Faith's face says it all. Her eyes are wide, a trembling smile on her lips. She's pushing herself up, trying to get out of bed.

Buffy laughs, almost running back to the bed. Her eyes are wet, but her smile is radiant. "You remember!" She says, sitting on the bed and helping Faith sit up.

Faith nods, her free hand coming up to touch Buffy's face. "I remember."

Buffy leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Faith's mouth.

Several minutes later, the on-duty nurse picks up her clipboard and begins her sweep through the long-term care unit. She pushes open Faith's door, her pen already poised to check the 'no change' box on her checklist, and lets out a strangled cry. Dear Lord, she thinks, watching the two women in the hospital bed kissing, it's happening again!