Present Day

Dates are weird. Not those sorts of dates. I mean just days. Mondays. Fridays. Weeks. Years. Time goes by and a lot happens. But does anything ever change? Some people say it doesn't. Not really. Sometimes I think they're right. How many massacres have I prevented? How many apocalypses have I averted? And still here I am again, trying to keep the world from tumbling. Trying to keep myself from letting go. But every time feels so much harder – with every fight a little bit more of my hope is shattered – and I don't know how much longer I can hold on for.

It was early evening in Sunnydale, California, on what had turned out a chilly but not entirely unpleasant Spring day. The sky was darker than it should have rightfully been, but the days were starting later and ending earlier as of late. Much like the people who had made themselves scarce, it was as if even the sun knew there was little it could do to keep the city from being swallowed up by the endless blackness that fought to break free from the Hellmouth. A crow sat perched outside one of the upper bedroom windows, frozen in place as it stared into the distance. Buffy Summers was sat on the other side of that window, almost as still, perched on the end of her bed, her hands loose in the lap of one of her favourite dresses. She looked down, studying every minor detail, her lips twisting with indecision.

There wasn't much time for second thoughts though, especially considering how long it had taken to pick out in the first place. Her wardrobe offered plenty of choice, but nothing had seemed quite right for the occasion. Some clothes seemed overly formal, like she was trying to show off or suggest she was somehow better. Others were far too casual, giving off an air of indifference as if tonight was no different than any other.

But tonight was different. It wasn't a new beginning. Not exactly. That had already come and gone. It was the next big step though – maybe the biggest yet – and she wanted to make sure Faith understood exactly how important it was to her; that Faith's return to Sunnydale meant something. Maybe not to the horde of girls that had found asylum between the four walls of Buffy's family home. Maybe not to Willow or Giles. Maybe not to Dawn or Xander either.

To Buffy though, it was everything.

----------

Three years earlier

Every wall was bland and bleak, painted in a shade of lifeless grey that shouldn't be allowed to exist. The farthest corners of the cold, hard floor offered signs that it may have been white at one point, but not for some time now. Buffy stared attentively through the thick pane of glass in front of her, careful to keep from glancing to either side. She didn't want to catch the eye of anybody who was wearing one of the orange jumpsuits that almost glowed against their gloomy backdrop.

Was this a mistake, she wondered as she waited for the guards to retrieve Faith from her cell. Almost two months had passed since Buffy had last set foot in Los Angeles, and she hadn't left on good terms with Angel or Faith. Of the two of them it should have been the former that bothered her most, all things considered, but in the end it was Faith who'd found a permanent roost within her thoughts.

The woman she'd come face to face with on the roof of Angel Investigations had seemed both a complete stranger and yet unquestionably recognisable. Beaten, broken, and barely standing, no more threads left to hang from. Bleary-eyed and broken-voiced, begging for nothing more than Buffy's forgiveness.

Buffy wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to offer Faith that. Right then, she didn't know what she was going to say to her at all. With Adam and the Initiative causing problems back in Sunnydale, she should have been there instead, but to deal with them she first needed to clear her head. So she'd stay, she'd say whatever it was she'd come to say, and then she'd close this chapter of her life once and for all. Easy.

That clarity spilled from her lap and fell out of reach between the cracks in the floor the moment she caught sight of Faith's long, dark hair. She sprang to her feet, not in politeness but instead ready and willing to give in to a sudden and adamant compulsion to flee. She'd already been spotted though, a fact made obvious by Faith's eyebrows meeting in the middle of her head.

Here goes nothing, she thought as she drew in a deep breath through her nose.

As Faith approached, Buffy could see that she looked good – or at least not as bad as she recently had. Her hair had seen better days, and she seemed a little paler than Buffy remembered, but she also stood a little taller. Her eyes shone that little bit brighter.

Their eyes stayed locked on one another, and a pair of matching stoic expressions gave nothing away. Faith was walked to her seat and sat down, and she kept silent until the guard had removed her handcuffs and moved away. “Gotta say, B, I never pictured it being you sitting here.” The surprise in her voice sounded authentic enough, and Buffy struggled to pick out any obvious hostility.

“Faith,” Buffy offered plainly as she sat back down as well. Too plainly, even for her own liking, and she quickly added what came out as a cringe-worthy and over-enthusiastic, “Hey.”

Faith raised one eyebrow, opened her mouth to speak, and then paused before a look of panic spread across her face. “Wait, did something happen to Angel? He's OK, right?”

“What? No. I mean I don't think so. I haven't really–” Buffy stopped herself. Her and Angel's business certainly wasn't any of Faith's. “I'm sure he's fine.”

“Oh. Well that's good,” Faith mumbled. Her shoulders visibly loosened.

Was that relief, Buffy wondered. She still had no clue what had really happened between Faith and Angel in L.A., and Faith's reaction left her a little thrown. “Whoa. I didn't realise just how close you two were.” She grimaced. It wasn't meant as an accusation, but it sure sounded like one.

Faith frowned. “It's not like that. I swear. He just...” She let out a short, guarded laugh and pushed her hands down between her thighs. “He's been keeping me sane while I'm locked up in here. It's not like I get a whole lot of other visitors, you know?”

“No, it's fine,” Buffy said quickly. “I'm sorry. Look, the last thing I came here for was a fight.”

Faith sat forward for the first time, hesitating for several long seconds before asking, “So why did you? I thought you'd made things pretty clear the last time you were in town.”

The apprehension on Faith's face was something that Buffy didn't feel was all that fair. Then again, she had promised to beat the girl to death on their previous outing so maybe it wasn't entirely uncalled for either. “I... I don't know. It just... happened.”

One side of Faith's lips curled up. “What, you took a wrong turn on the way to the seven-eleven and ended up in L.A.? You seriously oughta think about investing in some GPS, B. It'd be one hell of a time saver.”

It felt like it had been years since Buffy had heard that playful teasing in Faith's voice, and she couldn't resist cracking a small smile. “So that sounded ridiculous to you too, huh?”

“Little bit. And that's coming from someone buddied up with a chick who thinks Dunkin' Donuts is deep cover for a Chimera-breeding Mafia ring.” She shook her head, mostly in disbelief, maybe a little in disgust as well.

“Hey, she might be right. Maybe I should get Giles to look into it? I mean this could be big. We're talking newspaper headlines, eight o'clock news, an interview on one of those late-night talk show thingies. The whole shebang.” She shrugged. “Whatever one of those is.”

When she had first shown up at the prison, she'd been given a run through of the regulations. One of the many things mentioned was the strict time regulations, and she had almost laughed out loud at the idea that she'd even be in the same city by the time her allotted hour was up. Yet by the time the guard reappeared to lead Faith away, they were both in hysterics; the idea of the military making a real-life Frankenstein monster wasn't even that funny, but for some reason that was the thing that had set them off, and they hadn't fully recovered since.

Time had eventually ran out though, and as Faith was urged to her feet by the guard's hand on her upper arm, Buffy stood as well, wiping a stray tear away with the back of her hand and trying to calm down enough to catch her breath. One final giggle crept out, followed by an amused, disbelieving sigh, and then she finally got a hold of herself.

Faith had sobered faster and was watching her in silence, the wide grin that had been permanently on display for the last half hour now withdrawn. The guard pulled lightly at her arm, but she refused to budge. “Wait. Please.” She turned back to Buffy, her eyes damp.

Was that from the laughing, Buffy wondered. It must have been.

“Buffy, I... I know this isn't what you want to hear, but not telling you has been eating me alive in here.” She sucked in her bottom lip, and her eyes shifted to one side and back. “I'm sorry. For what I did to you. For everything that happened. If I could take it all back–” Her voice threatened to break, and she had to pause to take a deep breath before continuing. “If there was anything I could do to make it right, I'd do it in a heartbeat.”

There she was again. That same girl from the rooftop, frightened and alone. And there Buffy was again. Stood face to face with that girl, an untold, unmatched power held behind her lips. All she had to do was let it out. A simple spell that needed no eye of newt nor toe of frog. Three short words to save a life? She'd never had it so easy.

So why was it so hard? When she opened her mouth to speak, her throat fought back, closing tight and drying up. She found herself stuck with the same questions she'd been asking since she'd arrived in Los Angeles. What was she doing? Why had she come there in the first place? She still didn't have her answers, and it looked like she wasn't about to get them that day.

The last few weeks had been challenging, but at least now she felt a little bit lighter, the worries from Sunnydale left waiting for her back at the station. That alone was far more than she'd expected to gain from her visit, and even if she wasn't ready to forgive Faith, the least she could do was offer her something in return. Yet as the guard continued to watch her – almost as intently as Faith herself, the two of them eagerly awaiting her response – the words simply wouldn't come.

There was no buzzer, no clock counting down, but an unannounced time limit expired and the guard once again urged Faith away. “Come on, hour's up,” he told her softly.

That time Faith offered no resistance, and Buffy couldn't fully meet Faith's eyes, even as Faith offered her a small, wavering smile before being lead away.

It was a sad smile, one of acceptance and understanding, and Buffy mentally scolded herself as her stomach tightened. With an hour of progress thrown away by mere seconds of silence, she too began to make her way out.

“B!” Faith called out, louder than she'd needed to. So much so that she'd inadvertently gathered the attention of not only Buffy but of almost everyone in the room on both sides of the glass. Realising that, she lowered her voice as she continued. “Will you...” Both cuffed hands moved up to her head, and she swept her hair back off her face, glanced at the ground, and then looked back at Buffy. “Are you coming back?”

Aware that now she was the one being watched, as if the entire room needed to know the answer to that question, Buffy swallowed hard. It was stuffier in there than she'd realised, and her skin began to flush as she slowly walked back up to the glass. She didn't need to give it any real thought. “I'll see you soon, Faith,” she promised as she gave a small nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The trip back to Sunnydale felt a lot shorter than her outward journey, but she still had plenty of time to get lost in her thoughts, and by the time she arrived home she'd realised one thing: her head was less clear than when she'd set out for L.A. in the first place. So much for best laid plans.

----------

Present Day

How does change work? I mean... when do you get there? Is there a tipping point? A crescendo that builds so high it becomes impossible to block out? Or is it more atomic? Does each seemingly individual event click into place so silently that picking out one particular moment is impossible?

Night in and night out, I've been fighting evil for seven years; the front line against the end of the world. Things are not the same as they were back then, but I could never have imagined this is where I'd end up. If I had, I wouldn't gotten this far. But that's another thing about change: the end result isn't always what we expect. No amount of good intention can guarantee a happy ending. Plans go awry. Important details get swept aside, swallowed up by the roar of battle. Wills bend and beliefs breaks. Struggles are won and they are lost. Looking back though, I can pick out the key moments with perfect clarity. I know how I could have made everything better with a second chance.

So why can I never do the same with Faith?

When there are thirty-plus girls – not to mention Andrew – all caged up inside one single house, four mirrors spread out pretty thin. There were regular queues for the bathroom and early starts to the day; even bartering snacks for five minutes alone with one had become a thing. Not that any of it had mattered much to Buffy. Everything had been so hectic lately. They were fighting The First – literally the very incarnation of evil. Giving her hair more than a passing glance was fast dropping down her priority list. In fact, it was a miracle she hadn't gone ahead and ripped it all out.

Tonight she'd made the time though. She'd even found room to breathe, which was an even rarer occurrence. The shared living areas had only been able to contain so many potentials. There was probably some math there. Metres squared divided by potentials adopted, rounded up to take into account any old enemies spending the night – or something like that. Either way, she'd been unable to put it off forever. The other bedrooms, the kitchen, and even the basement had been filled to the brim, and finally she'd had to give up her own private space.

There were three other girls sharing her bedroom these days, but they'd been chased away hours ago. Whether they were now cramped in with Dawn or lining the hallways, Buffy didn't care. It was only for one night and some things were simply more important.

Setting foot in Sunnydale after everything that had happened was going to be a big deal for Faith. Buffy knew that; she herself had come down with a super-sized case of the jitters. The last thing Faith would want was to be constantly mobbed from the moment she stepped through the door. At least in Buffy's room – at least for one night – they'd get some peace, and the only person who could screw it all up would be her. “Now there's an encouraging thought,” she muttered to herself.

----------

Two years earlier

The prison's visitation room looked larger than Buffy remembered it, like they'd needed to extend the length of the building to seat a couple more inmates. Two months had passed since her last visit, a significant blip in what had otherwise become a fortnightly ritual over the past year.

Faith hesitated, pausing several feet from the transparent border that separated them. With a sluggish stance and pensive face, she was completely void of her usual enthusiasm, and Buffy couldn't really blame her. “I'm sorry I haven't been able to make it for a while,” she offered as soon as Faith sat down, skipping straight past any pleasantries. “I... some stuff came up. But still, I should have called or wrote or–”

“It's cool. Really,” Faith interrupted softly. She licked her lips and glanced around before focusing on the grey, matte surface in front of them. Buffy didn't know what was going on – not until she heard what Faith had to say next. “Angel. He, umm... he told me about J... about your mom. I'm sorry.”

Oh God, Buffy thought. She was not ready to talk about this. Not with Faith. Not with anyone. Even thinking about it for the few short seconds that had already passed was enough to make her head begin to thump. So much time and effort had been invested in keeping her pain locked away over the last few weeks; visiting Faith was meant to help her forget about all the bad stuff and claw back some ounce of happiness, at least for a little while. That's how it had been every time she visited. Sure, she would give Faith some vague details about the general going-ons in Sunnydale, and in exchange Faith would tell her about whatever crazy prison antics had taken place recently. But Buffy would leave out anything too serious, and she was certain that Faith would in turn exaggerate her own tales to keep them more amusing than worrying.

That unspoken agreement had officially been torn down, and Buffy was struggling to stay in control of her quickly-bubbling emotions. Her fingers tightened around her knees, her nails digging through the thin material of her pants and into her skin, and she stared at the floor as she concentrated on keeping her breathing steady. Slowly in, slowly out, she told herself. Don't cry. Not here. Not now.

It was so much more than her mother though; Faith didn't know the half of it. Riley had left her. Tara might never recover from what Glory had done. Dawn was in real danger. Everything around her was crumbling, and it seemed like nothing she tried could hold it all together.

“I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you,” Faith amended.

Condolences had become more worthless the more they piled up. Meaningless words from well-meaning strangers – neighbours, teachers, people Buffy had never even met – and she'd begun to bristle at the very possibility of interaction with others. Yet it was the sincerity in Faith's voice that proved to be the final straw, and even as Buffy tensed every muscle in her face, she couldn't keep the tears back any longer. Weeks of pent up emotion came crashing down her face, and she looked up helplessly at Faith, struggling to speak between guttural sobs. “Oh God, Faith... I'm so scared. I don't know what to do anymore. I-I don't know. I don't–”

Faith's hand pressed against the glass. Her fingers were spread outward as they tried to push their way through to the other side. The anguish on her face couldn't match Buffy's, but it wasn't far behind it either. “Buffy...” Faith said, barely above a whisper.

“Dawn's in trouble. And I... I don't think I can save her. Not this time. There's nothing I can do. There's just nothing...”

“Buffy, listen to me,” Faith said, far more firmly but with nothing short of compassion.

Shaking in her seat, her lips quivering, her eyes red and puffy, Buffy stared helplessly through the glass. She'd forgotten all about the people around them. She'd forgotten that she needed to stay strong. All she knew was that she couldn't keep going on her own. She needed help. She didn't know what, but she needed something.

Faith looked more serious than Buffy could remember seeing her in recent times, and there was nothing but certainty in her voice. “You're the strongest person I know, and whatever happens, I don't think for one second that you won't get through this. You'll make it. I can feel it.”

Buffy shook her head. “I won't,” she mumbled. “It's too much. I-I can't. I just... I can't.”

“You can. And you will. I believe in you. You're everything I've ever wanted to be. Strong. Brave. You're amazing, Buffy, and I'm telling you now: there is nothing – nothing – that you can't do.” Buffy opened her mouth to argue some more but was quickly cut off. “No! Don't even think about it. Just listen to what you're told for once you stubborn brat.”

Faith's eyes stayed locked on Buffy's, bustling with intensity, and as she showed a small smile, Buffy found herself doing the same. She lifted her hand without thought, slowly bringing it against the glass, each finger and thumb perfectly mirroring Faith's. Her fingertips pressed down hard, searching for a connection.

“But B, if you do need me – if you ever need me – just say the word and I'll be by your side. Always.”

There was a look of stunned amazement on Buffy's face, but she frowned as that last part sank in and quickly shook her head. “No. No, I don't want you getting in any more trouble.”

“Screw that,” Faith all but spat, and she waved away Buffy's concerns with the back of her free hand. “I mean it. If things get bad – really bad – and you don't tell me, I swear I'm gonna kick your blonde ass all over Sunny D, and I don't care how many teeth I lose in the process. You got that?”

A final pair of tears ran down Buffy's face as she leant forward, resting her forehead against the glass. She drew in a slow, long breath, and a little bit of the pain and frustration that had been building up over the last few months was swept aside. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I've got it.”

Faith smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“Thank you, Faith.”

----------

Present Day

Faith surprised me that day, but I guess that's always been her thing. Understanding her was a struggle from the start. I've always tried to be there for her, I truly have, but it seemed like there was always something prying us apart. Something digging a hole faster than either one of us could fill it in.

At least that's how I used to feel. Now I wonder if there's any truth in that at all. Could I have reached out a little more often? Stretched a little further? Made her believe like she made me believe that day? How much would have changed? Would mom still be alive? Would Faith be a part of our extended family? How different would this world be? How much better? I'm torturing myself with these questions – I know that – but I so desperately need everything to be different. To be better.

Buffy stood in her bedroom doorway and scanned the room, making sure everything was in place. The assorted junk that had crept in alongside her new room-mates had been haphazardly stashed into boxes and thrown in the closet. Her own possessions had been given a quick once-over, and she'd managed to secure a sleeping back at great expense – she now owed full control of her own bed to Rona for three consecutive nights at some point next week. And people say the bartering economy is dead, Buffy thought glumly.

She'd get her first taste of the floor earlier than that though; she imagined Faith had already gone far too long without a comfortable night's sleep, so she'd take the sleeping bag and leave the bed for her.

Noticing something amiss, she hurried forward. Mr. Gordo was plucked from between the two sets of pillows and carefully set down on the bedside cabinet, nestled safely behind her clock radio. “There. Perfect.”

“And Faith deserves perfection now?”

Buffy quickly spun around. “Dawn! I didn't realise you were... I was just, umm–”

“Making it perfect? Yeah, I heard.” Dawn leant back against the door frame and crossed her arms tightly across her stomach. “So, just to make sure the monks didn't mess up some of my memories, this is the same Faith that tried to kill you, mom, me, and your friends, right?”

Buffy's shoulders sagged. She knew full well that not everybody was looking forward to Faith's return. Not even close. Giles and Xander said it with looks alone; Dawn had already been a little more direct the previous day. “Dawn, please. We've talked about this.”

“No, you talked, I listened. But I still don't get it. So she hasn't tried to kill you while surrounded by armed guards? Big whoop. How do you know she won't stab you in your sleep the first chance she gets?”

“Well, for one thing, because she'd probably trip over a dozen different people trying,” Buffy joked. She didn't want to get into this. Everybody knew full well where she'd vanish to once every other week, but that's all they knew. She couldn't explain her feelings for Faith to anyone. There had always been something there between them, ever since the day they'd met, but putting those feelings into words was still something she struggled with. All she knew was that she cared about Faith, Faith cared about her, and she was sick and tired of feeling alone.

Dawn blinked, but her expression remained otherwise intact, no sign of returning Buffy's small, optimistic smile. “I'm being serious, Buffy. I don't trust her.”

Buffy crossed the room and took Dawn's hands in her own. “I know. And I love you. And there is absolutely no way I'd let anyone in this house if I thought they'd try and hurt you. But Dawn, there's so much you don't understand. About what happened back then. About what's happened since.”

“So explain it to me.”

“It's... complicated.” Buffy paused, unsure if she should risk saying anything more. But Willow and Faith would be home soon, and Dawn obviously wasn't about to drop the subject. “I just... I need you to trust me, OK? I need you to let me have this.”

“Have what? I don't und–” Dawn paused. It took a moment, but then her glare receded and she eyed Buffy curiously. “Faith coming back here…” she said slowly, like she was still trying to fit the pieces together even as she spoke. “It's not just just about her helping with the fighting, is it? You really care about her.”

“I really do.” Buffy gave her a sad but hopeful look.

They stood in silence for a long while, but then, as Buffy began to fidget, her eyes flicking back and forth from her sister, Dawn threw both arms around her and hooked her chin over Buffy's shoulder. “Then I really hope she doesn't let you down. You deserve to be happy, Buffy... But if I wake up with a knife in my gut, you are totally tidying my room for the next year. Deal?”

“Deal.” Buffy returned the hug, holding Dawn tight and pressing her lips to Dawn's temple.

----------

Five Months Earlier

Faith was staring at Buffy like she'd shown up dressed as a Lei-Ach demon, and in response Buffy motioned her hands over her body. “Not bad for a corpse, huh?” she asked. Faith frowned, clearly unamused, and Buffy felt a tinge of guilt pass over her. “Sorry. I had this whole morbid humour thing going on. Guess I'm not as over it as I thought.”

Faith continued to watch her for another long moment before smiling and giving a small nod. “You look good.”

“I am. I mean, I think so at least. I'm not saying it's been easy, but I think I'm really starting to get there. Speaking of which, I wanted to come sooner, things have just–”

“You don't have to apologise,” Faith interrupted softly. “I'm just glad you're still... you know,” she finished awkwardly.

Well that was easier than expected, Buffy thought. Not the dying thing; that had almost killed her twice. The Faith thing. It had been over a year since her last visit. She'd come back from the grave a complete mess, and she couldn't keep showing up and dropping her problems on Faith, no matter how desperately she wanted to. “I've missed you, Faith.” That was the understatement of the century.

“I've missed you too.”

“So how've you been? Did I miss anything exciting?”

“You know me. Living large and kicking ass.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. She doubted Faith would be getting visitation hours if that was really the case.

“At poker,” Faith admitted with a shrug. “Could be worse though; at least I've got enough free cigs to keep me going through my twenties.”

Buffy rolled her eyes but grinned. “Glad to hear you're making the most of your time.”

“Like I said: you know me. Only got twenty eight months left too. Maybe less if nobody tries anything stupid.”

That sounded like an awfully long time to Buffy, and her heart sank. It was longer still for a Slayer. Evil was brewing again in Sunnydale – no surprise there. They didn't have many details yet, but if she'd learnt anything over the past year, it was that time was not on their side. Faith seemed genuinely upbeat about it though, and Buffy didn't want to trample all over her high spirits. “That's great,” she said, forcing a wide smile.

As far as cover-ups went, it wouldn't have fooled many people, but especially not someone who knew her as well as Faith. “Nice, B. Wanna try that again with a little less of the creepy grin?”

Busted, Buffy thought, but she brushed it off. “No, really. I'm happy for you. It's just... you shouldn't be in here at all.”

Faith's eyebrows lowered and her brow furrowed. “I killed people, Buffy. And I tried to kill a whole lot more. Not to mention what I did do you.” She lowered her eyes, cleared her throat, and then took a deep breath. “I'm not getting anything I don't deserve. We both know that.”

“But you've changed,” Buffy challenged. “And I forgive you. Why can't they?”

Faith's eyes snapped up, and the creases across her forehead doubled in size and almost bulged free.

The intense stare left Buffy feeling uneasy, and she glanced to each side, unsure of what had happened. “What?”

Faith let out a held breath. Her entire body seemed to relax at once, melding into every groove of the chair. “Thank you.”

“For what? ...Oh. You mean? But... you knew that. Of course you did.” Buffy winced. “Didn't you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Faith said nonchalantly. Her hand swept quickly across her eyes as she looked away, and suddenly her cheeks were beginning to redden; a look Buffy couldn't recall ever seeing on her.

“Oh, Faith. Of course I forgive you, you big doofus. I lo...” Buffy caught herself, bit down on her tongue, and quickly forced her shocked eyes back to their usual size and shape. “I, umm...” She scratched the back of her head and fidgeted in her seat. God, just say it already, Buffy mentally prodded herself, but as her own face out-reddened Faith's, her lips remained stubbornly sealed. She'd had plenty of time to think about this; now was not the time to start second-guessing herself.

“B?” Faith prompted after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence.

“I... I was just thinking that when you get out of here... I mean if you want to, maybe we could give it another shot?” At least that was something, Buffy figured. Baby steps.

“Yeah... Yeah, I'd like that.”

“Me too.”

----------

Present Day

Change can be stubborn. No matter how much you want it, sometimes the status quo simply digs its heels deep in to the dirt and fights you every inch of the way. Then when you finally gain the upper hand, and the opportunity is finally laid at your feet, as plain as day and with no string in sight, you don't seize it... you can't... and worse still, you don't even understand why.

I know it's not the words. I've said them before. It's not the girl thing either. I've seen first hand that nothing that insignificant can drive my family apart. So what then? Well here's the thing: I've died. Twice. But nobody has ever hurt me the way Faith has. To bare my heart and soul, to open up to her completely, to tell her everything without knowing if she feels the same way? Maybe I'm not willing to let her hurt me again. Maybe I'm not as brave as she thinks.

Buffy hadn't felt so nervous in a long time. It felt like she'd been sitting in her room for hours now – probably because she had. When she heard a car pulling up outside, she jumped to her feet. She didn't even know if it was them yet, but her heart was already racing. Her head was giddy with excitement and yet she was utterly terrified at the same time.

She could make out the murmurs coming from downstairs, and she smiled as she pictured the potential Slayers fighting for poll position at the windows. Rumours had been spreading amongst them since Buffy had learned that Faith would be helping Willow deal with Angelus, and whatever information they'd originally gleamed about Faith had been transformed time and time again, getting more ridiculous with each retelling. By now she was probably some Slayer-demon hybrid bent on world domination, one bad day away from slaughtering every single one of them, at least as far as they were concerned. But nobody knew Faith the way Buffy did now. Faith was never evil. She had never been a monster. Not really. She'd always just been... Faith.

A quick glance out of the window showed Willow stepping out of the car, and that was all the evidence Buffy needed. She turned, took one final look in the mirror, smiled into it – barely recognising the soft, warm glow of her face – and then headed for the stairs.

A couple of the girls were already making their way into the hallway, spearheaded by Kennedy and with Vi positioned as second in command. “Stay inside,” Buffy ordered as she shot past them, not quite reaching a run but moving fast enough to earn her a couple of questioning glances.

She flung back the door and stepped outside.

----------

72 Hours Earlier

Buffy was stood in the downstairs hallway of her house, phone flush against the side of her head, body frozen in shock. She couldn't believe what she'd heard, and the assortment of strange, almost inhuman sounds she was producing weren't quite loud enough to carry all the way to L.A. Willow had completely failed to mention Faith before she'd left Sunnydale to go and help the remaining members of Angel Investigations that morning.

“So... one of us should probably say something,” Faith said. “Wes only gave me three quarters.”

“I...I can't believe they let you out,” Buffy managed, blinking repeatedly as if to convince herself she was truly awake.

“Not really the word I'd use, B, but hey, I figure some things are more important than personal growth or civic duty or whatever, right?”

Buffy's eyes widened in awe as realisation set in. “Oh my God!” she blurted out. “Faith! You broke out? You're a wanted fugitive, aren't you? You're like... umm... Richard Kimble. O-or that guy in the film with Tom Hanks.”

“Who? What?”

“Ooh, or Roger Rabbit.”

“I'm so gonna hit you.”

“Sorry.” Buffy tried to quell her excitement with marginal success. “You're safe though, right? I mean are they after you? Do you need somewhere to hide out? Because I have a basement, and–”

“Hold your horses, B. I think I'm good for now People seem more concerned with the whole rain of fire thing. Go figure, huh? Besides, I'm not about to shut myself in some closet when Angel needs my help.”

“OK... Just promise me you'll be careful.”

“You've got nothing to worry about. I'll be fine.”

“I mean it, Faith. Angelus is deeply dangerous. You can't afford to give him an opening.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“No, you don't. That was Angel pretending to be Angelus. Take it from someone who knows: the real thing is a whole new level of worse. You know what, maybe I should come as well.” She leant back enough to peer through the open door to the living room and lay eyes on the clock above the mantel. “If I leave now, I can be there by morning, and it'll be a lot safer if we go after him together.”

“And what? Leave everyone in Sunnydale as party favours for The First? They need you there.”

“But–”

“B! Relax. I'm gonna be fine. Even got Captain British watching my back.”

Buffy absently watched the handful of girls squashed onto and in front of the couch, each of them armed to the teeth with various snacks and watching some game show on TV, each of them relying on her for protection against whatever nasty came crashing through the door next. She knew Faith had a point, but that didn't mean she had to like it. “No offence to Wesley, but that doesn't exactly leave me awash with confidence.”

“Well did I mention he owns a shotgun now? Looking pretty bad-ass too. Giles would be mad jealous.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow and struggled to picture anything of the sort. “OK, well maybe that helps a little,” she admitted, smiling into the phone as her hands carefully cradled the receiver. A nervous look quickly took its place though, and two fingers began to wrap themselves up in the cord as she tried to find the right thing to say. She kept her voice low, knowing the noise from the TV would mask her words from any prying ears. “Hey, umm, I know we've sort of talked about it before, but I want to be clear here: when I said you should come back to Sunnydale, I meant it. When you're done there... come home, Faith.”

The low hiss of static was all she could make out, and it only fed her uncertainty. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about what sort of future they could have, and she truly believed it could all work out if they both wanted it. Nothing was the same as it had been four long, exhausting years ago. Not her. Not Faith. Nothing. Of course, if Faith didn't share that belief then none of that would matter. As the silence lingered, the phone cord pulled more taut, and it was about three seconds from becoming the latest in a long line of Revello Drive casualties.

“You think Red'll let me hitch a ride?”

The warmth from Buffy's quickly flourishing smile spread throughout her face, and she blew out a long-held breath. It was really going to happen, she realized. She was going to get another chance. “Count on it.”

“Then I'll be back in time for supper. Speaking of: I haven't eaten a real meal in a long time. When I get in, you wanna grab some ribs or something?”

Buffy laughed loudly and then slammed her mouth shut when every head in the living room turned her way in unison. She quietly cleared her throat before saying, “Ribs? That's your idea of a real meal? Some things really never change.”

“What can I say? They're classics for a reason.”

“I'll take your word for it. But I was thinking maybe we could stay in. I can cook something. Or we could order in if you want? I don't know if anywhere delivers ribs, but maybe.”

“Hey, I'm five by five with whatever, so long as I can tell if I should be eating it or slaying it. Ahh, crap, think I'm out of time.” There was a muted thud on the other side of the phone. “This stupid thing's started beeping at me.”

“Oh. OK.”

“So... I guess I'll be seeing you.”

“Wait. Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“I... It's going to be different this time. I promise.”

“I know.”

----------

Present Day

When it comes to Faith, it seems like I still can't find the words. But I think I'm getting there. More importantly, I'm not sure it even matters anymore. I think we've been past that for a while now; there's some part of me that suspects she already knows. I guess I'm scared to pay it too much attention though, just in case it's wrong. In case this is all some imaginary fantasy – one more chapter of that elusive Buffy Summers happy ending.

The temperature had dipped considerably since the afternoon, and Buffy's bare arms immediately broke out in goosebumps as she stepped out onto her driveway. Street lights illuminated the parked car, and Buffy could clearly see Willow as she retrieved a bag from the back seat before pushing the door shut.

Buffy couldn't put her finger on it, but something didn't feel quite right, and she shuffled forward, her eyes darting from Willow to the car and then back to Willow again. As she closed in she could see clearly through the front and back windows, and there was nobody left inside.

“Oh, uhh, hi, Buffy,” Willow said. She focused on her bag as she fiddled with its zip. “Umm, so how is everything here?” she added hurriedly before Buffy could get a word in. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone? I bet it did. Why don't we go inside and you can tell me all about it?”

“Everything's fine,” Buffy replied cautiously, making no move to go anywhere. Instead she looked over the car once more, but it remained as empty as it had been moments earlier. “What about you? I mean did everything go OK?” Neither of those was the question she desperately wanted to ask, and her fingertips dug into her thighs as she failed to keep her nerves in check.

“Well Angel is back and brooding like his old self again, so that's good. A-and Wesley did great. And...” Willow paused, caught Buffy's eyes, and then quickly looked down to the side. “There is something you should probably know though. It's, umm... it's about Faith.”

“Faith?” Dread crept up from Buffy's stomach and hung ominously at the back of her throat. Her words hitched as she spoke. “What is it? What is it about Faith?”

“Yeah, you see, she's...” Willow paced to one side before stopping and looking back at Buffy, her features tense from forehead to lips. “OK, there's really not a good way to say this, and I know I should have told you earlier, but you should remember not to stake the messenger. A-and, in fact, come to think of it, none of this was really my fault in the first place. It was completely out of my control. Nothing I could have done. But, see, the thing is, she–”

“Kicked some major ass.”

Buffy spun in shock at hearing the new voice, and her legs almost gave way beneath her. Faith shrugged and added, “Well I guess Red helped a little, but it was mostly me.”

“Faith!” Buffy threw herself forward, wrapped her arms around Faith, and squeezed hard.

“Or maybe you don't mind that she's here,” Willow finished. “Well that's good. That's... so I'm just going to...” She motioned up the driveway as she began edging in that direction. “...before you change your mind and...” She turned and hurried up the driveway to where Kennedy was waiting on the doorstep, and the two of them went inside.

Buffy didn't fully process Willow's words; she was having trouble processing much of anything. As the initial shock began to wane though, she managed to form some of her thoughts. “Oh my God, what were you doing over there, you freak?”

After several short hesitations, Faith's hands found their way onto Buffy's back. “Seeing what the hell happened to your garden. Did you know all your plants are flat? And I'm pretty sure there's half a window over there.”

The tension was expelled from Buffy's body within a fit of near-manic laughter, and she curled her head in, letting her cheek come to rest against Faith's shoulder. “I did. I really, really did.”

“Well did you also know there's a bunch of chicks watching us out the window? Kinda creepy.”

Buffy was still buzzing, her pulse still in the process of slowing to a safer rate, and she wasn't ready to move quite yet. All she wanted was to stand there and be held. Preferably forever. “Let them.”

----------

After Faith had been given a quick tour of the house – more to introduce her to its new occupants than to refresh her memory of the layout – the pair ended up in Buffy's bedroom. “And last but not least, my room. You can sleep with me–” Her eyes widened and she quickly turned her back to Faith. “–Here with me. You can sleep here with me.” Given the weather outside, the room felt much too warm, and it seemed to be getting hotter still by the second. “In fact, you know what? I bet you're probably hungry, right? It's a pretty long drive from L.A., and you did just fight–”

Her words caught in her throat as Faith's body pressed up against her from behind. Out of the corner of her eye she could see one of the pair of hands that began running lightly down over her arms from her shoulders, each warm finger leaving its own path of prickling skin behind it. Only once Buffy's own hands were nestled within them did they still, and Buffy automatically tilted her head back, letting out a small moan as Faith's lips nipped at her earlobe.

“Maybe a little,” Faith whispered as she began kissing a trail down to the side of Buffy's neck, her tongue occasionally flicking out and adding to Buffy's contentment. “But I like the sound of that first part more; the food can wait.”

Other than her eyes slipping shut, Buffy found herself barely able to function, unable to register anything but the spark born from each small, brief touch against her skin.

As the shock subsided, and the heated sensation from her neck zipped down through the rest of her body, she wiggled her hands free long enough to turn around. Her face was a picture of devious innocence as she met Faith's eyes. “And this can't?” she asked quietly, sweeping back one side of Faith's hair. She kissed Faith lightly on the cheek, only barely letting her lips brush against the other girl's skin. “Not even.” She did the same again, a little farther down. “For a few.” And then at the corner of Faith's lips. “Short.” Their mouths lined up, barely enough room for any light to squeeze between them. “Minutes?” Her face was flushed. Her fingertips tingled. Her legs were still a little shaky. How many times had she thought about this moment over the past three years? Dozens? Dozens of dozens? She didn't even know anymore.

And once faith's lips were pressing needfully into her own, it didn't matter either. At that very moment, everything around her simply fell away. The distant sounds of the TV from the living room fizzled out, replaced with heavy breathing and muted sighs of satisfaction. Their bodies forged together. Thighs, breasts, lips, all pressing and searching, all looking for a connection of their own. Her hands roamed greedily across Faith's back, clutching at both cloth and skin without bias. One of Faith's hands twisted itself through Buffy's hair, the other found its way to her butt, and together they kept Buffy close as Faith blindly ambled forward.

Buffy only realised they were moving at the point her legs bumped against the bed, and by then she was already falling. They were separated only long enough for her to take a deep, much-needed breath, and then Faith was hovering over her, one knee either side of her legs, looking down through shimmering eyes, her lips parted and her chest heaving, faint beads of sweat beginning to speckle her forehead.

Unable and unwilling to hold off any longer, Buffy sat up straight, stretching her neck up as far as possible, eager to get back to what they had started. Faith didn't hesitate to meet her half way, cupping Buffy's cheeks within her palms and welcoming Buffy's searching tongue between her waiting lips.

Faith's top crept upward as Buffy's hands tried to wriggle their way beneath it, showing off the bottom of her toned stomach. Buffy's fingers curled around her slim, firm hips, her thumbs sweeping back and forth over smooth skin, and it was obvious that Faith had managed to keep up her training schedule behind bars.

As Faith's thumb hooked underneath one strap of her dress, Buffy's eyes widened in realisation and her hands froze in place. “Faith, stop,” she murmured straight into Faith's mouth, the resulting sound coming out as nothing of the sort.

Her strap was half an inch away from slipping straight off of her shoulder, and she was quick to get her hands around Faith's biceps and push her back. “Wait.”

Faith heard that time, looked at her curiously, and then tried to press her head forward, seeking out Buffy's lips once more, but Buffy held her in place. “Faith!” Buffy said, her voice raising a little.

That was enough to give Faith pause. “What's wrong?” she asked cautiously. Her hands slid from Buffy's shoulders and fell limply by her sides, and she swallowed hard, her eyes dipping.

Buffy pressed a hand against Faith's cheek, urging her to look to one side. “The door?”

Faith could see now that the bedroom door was still stood wide open. She smiled widely, the apprehension on her face forgotten in an instant, and then shrugged like she didn't have a care in the world. “I don't mind.”

Both of Buffy's eyebrows rose in unison. “Well I do.”

“Hey, weren't you the one saying to let them watch back there? And who knows, maybe they'll learn a thing or two.” She kept her eyes locked on Buffy's, gave a grin that managed to be both sultry and cocky, wriggled her eyebrows, and without warning her hand shot forward, cupped Buffy's left breast, and gently squeezed.

Buffy lightly smacked it away. “Hey! That's not really the type of training we do here.”

“So think of it as a bonus.”

“Faith!” Buffy whined, pouting her lips and shooting Faith a mock glare.

“Alright, alright,” Faith said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She hopped backward to her feet and walked over enough to knock the door closed with the toe of her foot. “Better, ma'am?” she asked playfully.

“Much. Now come here.”

“You giving me orders now?”

“Haven't you heard? That's what I do now. And trust me, you really don't want to get on my bad side.”

Faith sauntered over, making a point of swaying her hips with each step and drawing Buffy's full attention downward. “Is that right?” she challenged.

Buffy waited patiently, watching Faith like an eagle, and the second she stepped in range, Buffy shot up, grabbed her arm, and flipped her onto the bed. A short, surprised cry slipped from her throat, and before she could recover, Buffy dived onto the bed, swinging one leg over Faith's prone body so she was straddling her waist. Faith tried to sit up, but Buffy instantly had a palm flat against her chest, pushing her back down and keeping her there. “Mm-hmm. And you'd better believe it.”

Looking down into Faith's eyes and seeing the unabashed, naked desire that shone brightly within them, and knowing that every part of it was aimed straight at her, was enough to halt their little game. Buffy was certain now that she'd been right; Faith had understood exactly how she felt. But Buffy needed to say it anyway. She didn't truly think she'd ever get this chance, and she wanted to make sure there was no room for error. No more misunderstandings. No more mistakes. “Faith, I... I love you.” That sounded good to her ears. Really good. “I love you,” she repeated more firmly, and her fingers curled, their tips pressing into Faith's chest. “More than anything. More than anyone. I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

Faith nodded slowly and licked her lips. “I do. And I love you too, Buffy. Always have. Always will.”

For a long time, they sat like that, neither one moving or saying a word, neither one wanting to break the comfortable, peaceful silence.

And then Buffy's sly smile resurfaced. “Good. Now do as you're told and get rid of that top.”

That was one request Faith didn't have to be told twice.

So does anything ever change? Some people say it doesn't. Not really. I don't believe that. I used to think I was cursed. That being the Slayer meant nothing but a lifetime of misery and pain. But curses can be broken, and things really do change. It's not all places and events either. It's not just about those prevented massacres or averted apocalypses. I've seen people change too. Get better and worse; turn good and evil. I've seen them lose their way, but I've seen them find it again as well. Sure, sometimes change takes longer than we'd like, and sometimes its hard to find a reason to keep moving through the dark. But when the time comes – when you round that final corner and find everything you've been searching for – all the things that you've done? Everything you've been through? Every ounce of fight you've given? You know it was all for something better.