I bite the bullet and drive. If I take a plane to Cali, there’s the slightest chance someone will see my name on the flight lists and freak. Best to keep myself as anonymous as possible, just in case the Scoobs still have a hate-on for me. Besides, it gives me some time to organize my thoughts and figure out what I’m going to say. I know what I’m going to do, but getting that across without starting a fight? That’ll be hard.

I guess I shouldn’t have been worried, though. I’m as invisible as ever when I get to Sunny D, even though I can tell exactly where both Buffy and Willow are right now. I know that Red’s just a beginner at magic, but … does B ever pay attention to her senses? Ever? I’m pretty much the strongest blip on the radar short of the actual Hellmouth, but …

Whatever. Something about not looking gift horses in the mouth, right?

First stop: Willy’s Place. Best info always comes from the demon bars, and Willy the Snitch runs the only one in town.

Willy takes one look at me as I walk in and jumps back so hard he smacks into the wall. Everyone looks up at the sound of bottles smashing to the floor. Then the demons get a load of me, and it’s suddenly very, very quiet, as seven foot uglies try their best to hide behind their tiny chairs.

“F-F-F-Faith,” Willy croaks, still trying to put his eyes back into his head. “You’re … awake.”

Hell yeah. Attitude time. “Yeah. I am. And guess what, Willy? I’m pissed off. And you’re gonna start tellin’ me things to make me not pissed off. Dig?” I stroll up and lean just a touch over the bar towards him, giving him a look at the knife in my hand, and my awesome cleavage. Carrot and stick, baby.

Not surprisingly, Willy caves right away and starts talking. Mayor or no Mayor, I’m still the Bad Bitch from Boston. He’s kept good tabs on people: The Scoobs are still together; B, Red and Oz are in UC Sunnydale; Xander’s dicking around with dead-end jobs; G-man’s unemployed right now. Buffy’s mom, Joyce, still works at that art gallery. Angel and Cordy both fucked off to L.A.

Willy freaked a little ‘cause I’m apparently still in a coma. Four months. Nearly four fucking months, and everyone still thinks I’m in that damned hospital. Got to hand it to the Boss, he packed some major mojo. Guess it’s time, though. I kind of don’t want to see Buffy, but I have to. One look at me and she’ll know something’s off, but hey – what’s life without some risk, right? In the end, I want them to know that I’m not insane anymore, and that I’m on their side.

I stop by the art gallery Joyce works at to get a look at her. She seems happy, maybe a bit lonely, but happy. I keep out of her line of sight, though; Buffy comes first, then everyone else. Maybe.

It’s a quick drive to the campus, and I time it for noon so that students will be moving around. I follow my senses, driving slowly around until see her leaving one of the buildings, checking around for someone. I’m real close to her, now, so she should be feeling me nice and strong on her radar; I’m counting on that to bring her out. Just a tap of the horn gets her attention. I nearly laugh as she just stares at me, wide-eyed and gaping. It could be the cherry-red Mustang convertible, but probably not. There’s too many people to hear, but I’m sure her heart is racing.

“Come on, B! Hop in!” I jerk my head towards the car.

She slowly walks towards me, nice and careful like she’s stepping around mines. Her fists clench as she get closer. Nothing happens for a good minute; she stands awkwardly by the car and we stare at each other while our brains try to figure out words.

“Faith,” she says lightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Buffy’s no brainless blonde, even though she talks like it. I can see her scoping me out. Low-cut leathers and a sleeveless high-cut top showing off my arms and midriff. Her cute little hazel eyes linger on my prominent shoulders and biceps, then sweep down to my very visible abs. I look rock solid now, nothing like the skinny little bitch that drifted into Sunny D a year ago. Four long months of eating right, training and working out, and slaying shitloads of vamps in Ohio. Does a body good.

Buffy looks pretty good, too. Can’t really see her under the leather jacket, but her legs look good through the jeans. Doesn’t look like she spends eight hours a day busting her ass, though. She’s so damned tiny… Damn, I could eat her up right now.

Focus, Faith. Get the party started.

“Didn’t expect to be here either, Blondie. Need to talk to you, though. Get in.” She just gives me this look. “C’mon, girlfriend. If we were gonna throw down, I’d be at it already. Just wanna talk before I get gone.”

Slowly, she opens the door and sits down, not bothering with the seatbelt. She’s wicked tense, primed and ready for a fight. Her eyes dart around as she tries to figure out the trap. I shake my head, trying to convey that it won’t happen. I put the car in drive, and head for downtown Sunnydale.

“So, you wanted to talk?” she asks, her voice nice and tight and unfriendly. “Well, talk.”

“Sure, okay.” I take a breath and get ready. “I’ll say the big shit in one sentence, so that you know where things stand, and we can go from there.” She nods at me, and I continue. “Here goes: You and I went through a lotta shit, and since I can’t take it back, I’m gonna give you what I can to make up for it, then I’m gone.”

There goes the eyebrow. “You’re going to give me what you can? What does that mean?”

“I could tell you a sappy story, but you don’t wanna hear it. In short, the Boss left me with everything. He’s fuckin’ rich, so I’m leavin’ you and the Scoobs with cash so you can sort out your lives.”

“You’re bribing us?” Yeah, I expected that shit.

“Nah. It ain’t a bribe, it’s … what’s the word …?” Come on, Faith. You looked this shit up for exactly this moment. “Wergild.” There we go. “I hurt you, so I owe you.”

Silence. Yay for goddamned motherfucking silence.

“S’anyways,” I carry on. “I wanna set you guys up. Five mil for you, Red and Xan. Ten for your mom. One mil for G, Oz and Cordy. I’ll talk to Soul Boy; I know he has some cash already, but whatever Angel needs, I’ll do.”

“Five – five million?” she squeaks, her eyes wide and astonished. “Each?” One heartbeat, two heartbeats – and then she gets her glare on, remembering that she shouldn’t be bought so easily.

“Yeah. Each.”

“Um. That’s … Wow.” The glare fades into confusion, then contemplation. “Why ten for my mom?”

My voice breaks a little as the memories wash over me.  “For the best Christmas I ever had.” I try to keep my eyes from tearing up, but it’s hard. Joyce Summers is a damned good woman, and I basically pissed all over her by going bad.

Now, Joyce was still a little selfish about it – I mean, she was keen on me easing B’s slaying duties to free her up for college, but she was in no way impolite or inconsiderate. She was quite willing to bribe me with free meals and shit, and she honestly did care about me. It felt good.

Like I said, B ain’t a dumb blonde. I spent that Christmas hanging with her mom while she saved Soul Boy. Two dollar gifts. No cards. No friends. No family. Just a chat with someone else’s mom over some food and coffee. That was my best Christmas ever.

Says a lot about my life, doesn’t it?

She gets it. She turns away and acts like she isn’t wiping her eyes. I act like I wasn’t paying attention and wipe my own. Just like that, her anger is gone, and her vibe switches from ‘hostile’ to ‘friendly’ on my radar.

“Faith, I …” Buffy swallows once, twice, then tries again. “You … don’t have to go, you know. We could … things could be … better.”

“I love you, too, B. You’re all heart.”

“Ass.”

I can’t keep the huge smile off my face. Even as I drum up that witty response, my heart leaps as it hears words I thought I’d never hear from her. She gives me a playful grin, and most of the tension dies off. It almost feels back to normal now. Her eyes are greener. I love her eyes.

“I need to,” I say after a moment. “I’m set up in Cleveland; y’know, th’other Hellmouth. Figured they could use a Slayer there, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I can’t believe she looks disappointed that I won’t stay. I mean, she ain’t exactly devastated, but I didn’t expect anything but complete satisfaction that I’d be out of her hair. Damn, those eyes…

“So … yeah,” I manage, blinking and looking away. “It’s just better that way.”

B gives me a small nod, and switches gears. “Is … how is it? Cleveland, I mean. The slaying.”

Oh, yeah. My favorite topic.

“Ha! You won’t believe me if I tell you the numbers.”

“Try me.”

“You sure?”

She gives me a thoughtful look. “Giles and I talked once about what Sunnydale would have looked like if I hadn’t come here with Mom. What it might have been if the Master got control. Cleveland must have been awful.”

“Uh huh.” I jerk my head in agreement. “I started slayin’ there the evenin’ of June 4th. As of October 2nd, which is the day I left to drive here, I’ve dusted 1702 vamps and 113 demons, assumin’ I didn’t fuck up the count.”

Those beautiful green eyes bug right out of her head. “Oh my God! You’re serious?”

“No word of a lie. It was a fuckin’ zoo.”

“1700? Wow.” She says the number silently to herself a couple more times.

“I know. Travers actually had a guy come in from Pittsburgh and follow me a few nights just to make sure I wasn’t shittin’ him. Had a Potential with him, too. Violet. Cute girl, kinda young. Not really trained yet, though. I get this funny feelin’ they’re gonna try an’ get me involved with that.”

“Probably,” she agrees with a grimace. “Any big bads?”

“Nah. No room – there were so many newborns that the city was choked an’ dyin,’ B. Everythin’ was run down an’ ugly, it was sad. Things are startin’ to look better, now.”

“I’d think so. Still can’t get over that number.”

“I know. Haven’t even had time to find the Hellmouth. No master vamps that I’ve seen, either. Just a big fuckin’ mess. Felt like mowin’ the lawn with a pair o’ scissors.”

“Yeah…” she trails off, staring down at her hands for a moment. I guess we’re going back to the serious topic.

“So… Will you meet with everyone? I mean, this isn’t something you just mail out. This is serious money. Big, life changey money. There’s probably … stuff we have to do, right?”

I shrug. “Not really. It’s just cash; the banks don’t care what kind of number they put on their checks. Long as you got an account, the money’ll move over, easy peasy. But sure. You make some calls and set it up, and I’ll meet ‘em. Only for a couple minutes, though. No point in makin’ this painful.” I hand B my cell, waving her off about long distance. I drive as she makes a few calls, trying my best not to eavesdrop.

Let’s face it, though: Those are some loud fucking calls the second she mentions my name.

All my ducks are in a row, now. Just one loose end left.

We drive to the hospital, walking all the way through to the maze of abandoned rooms at the back. It’s a shock to see my broken self just lying there, but not as bad as I imagined it. I’m way different now from that scrawny thing on the bed. B watches as I speak the words to dispel the illusion; with barely a flicker, Coma Faith vanishes. Just a dark, empty room in a forgotten wing of the hospital. We both take a moment to breathe, looking around at the dust and clutter.

“’Kay,” I say after a minute. “We’re done here. Let’s motor.”

B grabs my hands as I turn to go. “I’m so glad that wasn’t you,” she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes. “I felt so … so evil when I saw you like this. I know we had to fight, I had to save Angel. I was so angry. I knew I had to – had to … But…” She swallows and shakes her head; no more words are coming.

“Hey.” I give her hands a squeeze. “It’s over, B. I’m here an’ I’m alive. You saved the day. I was completely off my rocker. Hell, if you hadn’t done it, I’d have never gone to Cleveland an’ cleaned it up. So the way I see it, a lotta people owe you for… well, for… stabbin’ me.” Damn, now I’m tearing up. That was hard to say.

B just gathers me into a hug, crying against my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Faith … I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, B. For everythin.’ We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

She sniffs and pulls back for a moment, cupping her hand around my bicep. “Oh my God, Faith – you’re huge!” She giggles in disbelief as I flex my arm for her. “When did this happen?”

“Hey, I finally get my hands on you, and the first thing you grope is my arm? Seriously, B – the twins’re offended.” I push my chest out a bit, and B lets go of my arm to slap it, laughing at me. I just pull her back into a hug. “Lotta training; lotta slaying. Good food. That’s about it. I-”

“I missed you, Faith.”

She squeezes tight, and that’s it, I’m done. I squeeze back, and we hold each other, silent tears dripping on both our shoulders. Minutes pass like seconds as we – I don’t know, draw comfort? Find our centre? Pick your own metaphor, it’s a moment, a good moment, and we’re having it. Eventually, we break away from each other and walk back to the car. Both of us walk a little bit taller now. I know at least for me, a huge boulder just rolled off my shoulders.

I expected hatred coming here. I expected to have to fight just to speak five words to B, never mind have a conversation. I expected her to tell me to go to hell. I expected her to try and kill me again.

I missed you, Faith. Those words are the best damn thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

A quick drive later – damn, Sunny D is so small – I walk with Buffy towards the Espresso Pump where everyone’s waiting. It’s an open-air coffee shop, so I feel a lot less claustrophobic, considering the tough crowd. I recognize pretty much everyone:

Cute carrot -top with the green eyes and freckles: Willow. Red’s got the bitchiest look on her face – then again, Willow Rosenberg has always been a bitch; her friends just don’t notice. She pings pretty damn hard on my radar, though; one day, she’ll be a real powerhouse. I just hope that she’s got the morals to back that shit up by then.

Guy with a slight tan, dark eyes and a black mop for hair: Xander. Xan’s as pissed as he should be. I fucked him and dumped him, then when shit went bad and he tried to reach out to me, I tried to choke him out.

Why? ‘Cause he fucked me once. Then, when I was screwed up form killing Finch, he tried to make it all personal. You know how many guys have tried that with me, hoping to control me? And to do it right then, when I was on the razor’s edge? Jury’s out on whether or not I’d have killed him. Personally, I vote yes. That’s how pissed off and fucked up I was. I think I’d have killed him if Angel hadn’t stopped me.

Part of what pisses him off is that he’s always kind of the victim. Xander’s the only member of the Scoobs without powers – or in G’s case, a shitload of training. Ironically, he’s probably the boldest of the bunch, which is a piss-poor combo in my opinion.

Older British dude with the glasses: Giles, B’s Watcher. Giles is smart, he sees my toned bod and the wheels are turning. I don’t have much of an opinion on the G-man. With as much training as he has, you figure he could’ve out-psyched a fucked up teenaged girl, no matter how much attitude I gave him. He could’ve saved me; he could’ve been there if he’d wanted to. He didn’t.

And Joyce, looking every bit like B will thirty years form now… Damn, that makes things awkward; she’s staring at me with that disappointed, judgemental Mom-look on her face.

There’s a couple extras there, too: A chick that Buffy calls Anya – she’s the most neutral. It’s obvious she’s here as arm candy for Xan. Then there’s Oz, Red’s werewolf boy toy. I actually expected him.

It goes without saying that no one’s happy to see me. Well, time to get it on.

“A’ight, I’m gonna make this short. No one here wants to see me-”

“Got that right,” Red mutters.

“-and I ain’t gonna stick around to be everyone’s punchin’ bag. Like I said to B: I hurt you, so I owe you.”

“We don’t want anything from you,” Xander says, trying to make it sound nice and hateful.

Dodge the punch, Faith. “S’okay, give it away if you want.” Boom. There we go: Dodged the attack and piqued their curiosity. I pull out a bunch of envelopes and hand them to B – less likely they’ll be destroyed that way. They’d never let me close enough to hand them out myself, anyways.

“No surprises in there. The Boss left me with everythin,’ and he was one rich bastard. Five mil for each of you,” I point to B, Red and Xan, “One mil for each of you,” I point to Oz and G-man, “One for Cordy when I track her down, and whatever Soul Boy wants once I hit L.A.” I turn to Joyce. “Ten mil for you, for reasons I’ve already told B.”

Go silence! Go silence! Go, go, go silence!

Giles recovers first, falling to classic British politeness. “I must say, this was unexpected.”

“S’okay, G. Everythin’ this last year was kinda unexpected to me.”

“And the hospital…?”

I shake my head. “Illusion. Was never there. Healed fully in a few days. No scar, even.” I grin at Buffy when I say this; B nods and smiles back at me.

“Well, then. Where will you be going?”

“Already gone. Set up in Cleveland to sort out the Hellmouth there. Had a nice, long chat with Travers ‘bout it, too. Just me, no Watcher. I send reports, he sends research and shit. He knows I’m loaded so it’s no big deal for the Council.”

“Paid him off, too?” Good one, Red. Real nice.

“Actually, I threatened to chop off his dick.” That gets a reaction: Eyebrows up everywhere, a couple hands over mouths. Probably ‘cause they know I’d do it. “Told him that if he sent a Tweed my way or tried that Cruciamentum shit on me, I’d introduce him to my knives up close and personal. Told him I picked up a few guns and spells just for Brits.”

Giles smirks at me. “That sounds like a lovely, productive conversation.” British sarcasm at its best.

“S’no big.” I give him a shrug. “Once we were done threatenin’ each other, he was actually wicked happy there were two active Slayers again and both Hellmouths were covered. Give ‘im a call, he’ll tell you all about it.”

B’s been passing around the envelopes. Red already has hers open. All there is inside is a cashier’s check in her name and a pretty generic letter saying why I’m doing this.

“So, that’s it?” She says once she’s read the thing. “Just ‘I’m sorry, here’s some money, goodbye?’”

“Yeah, that’s it. No sob stories, no ‘I’m a poor, misunderstood little girl,’ no mopin’ around hopin’ to be friends again – ‘cause we never were.” Yeah, that’s right. Flinch, bitch.

“No,” I cut across a whole bunch of voices. “No, this is it. I hurt you, I pay you back. I get gone. G-man has my info in his envelope. So does B. If you need a Slayer, I’ll be here. If you need cash or magic items or some other shit I can actually help with, I’ll be here. If not, I’ll be in Cleveland.”

Buffy shakes her head. “I meant what I said before, Faith: You really don’t have to go.” Oh, B. Part of me really want to take you up on that. Just don’t look at the death-stares your friends are giving you right now.

Part of me wants to read into it…

Careful, Lehane; this tiny blond chick ain’t gay, and unless you’re drunk, neither are you. Still, I can’t help the big dimples on my face when I smile at her.

“Thanks, B. Means a lot to hear you say that, but I think I do.”

“Faith?” Oh, God, here we go. Joyce is kind of the last person I want to talk to. More than even Buffy, she could say things that would rip me to sheds inside.

I turn to look at her, trying hard to keep that vulnerability off my face. She ain’t glaring at me anymore; there’s even a teensy little smile. I hope that’s a good thing.

“I can understand why you’re doing this, and thank you; but … why so much for me?”

“For caring.” I quirk my head and shoulder a little, hoping that I don’t have to find more words. I’m going to lose it if I have to explain just what she is to me.

The sad look she gives me tells that she understands completely. I think she’s about to hug me. That’s its own kind of freaky – hugs with an audience are awkward as shit for me, so I make to leave.

Now, like I said before, Alexander Harris is many things but a coward ain’t one of them. Diplomatic ain’t, either. Guess it took him a sec to process things, but the gun’s loaded now. “What about – what about the people you killed? What happens?” I owe myself five bucks. I knew Xan wouldn’t leave it be.

“The Boss destroyed all the evidence, fucked with my record and shit. Pretty sure he called in some favors and had any physical stuff destroyed, too. Not that they had much in the first place.”

“So you just … get away with murder? Literally? And – and we’re okay with this?” Xan glares around accusingly at everyone, especially me.

Fuck this. Fuck you.

“See that, Xan? That’s the shit I was waitin’ for to remind me why I’m walkin’ away. I’m squared up with B; I’d like to square up with Red, but fuck it, whatever. But I don’t give a shit ‘bout you. Keep the cash or don’t; drop dead or don’t. The resta you have fun. You know where I’ll be.”

“Xander, no.” Whatever he was going to say never makes it out. Joyce cut him off, and no matter how much he hates me, he ain’t going to mess with Mama Summers. None of them are.

In fact, as she walks toward me for that hug I don’t want, I stop and turn and let her, because I won’t mess with Mama Summers, either.

We stand there as she reaches up and pulls me into a tight Mom-hug, and I work my arms around her awkwardly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Mrs. S. For everything.”

“You’re very welcome. I should have done more.”

“No, you don’t get it. I talked to you like, twice, maybe three times tops other than a buncha hi’s and bye’s. S’the only time I ever felt like I had a mom since my first Watcher. It was like someone gave a damn again…” I lose my voice as the emotion wells up. I feel like shit. I feel like I failed her. But this amazing woman who should hate me just hugs me tighter and rocks me back and forth.

She forgives me. She still cares. My heart’s so light I could fly.

I break away and pat her on the shoulder. Wipe my eyes. Again. “Thanks. I should go now.”

“Call me, Faith.” It’s a command more than a request. “Even if it’s just to talk, especially if it’s just to talk, call me.”

“I will.”

I need to get out of here. I’m all teary-eyed and the Scoobs are uncomfortable – ah fuck it, ‘uncomfortable’ is such a cop out. The Scoobs, except B, all feel like they’ve been smacked down by Joyce since she’s all forgiving, so now they’re guilty and looking at their toes. Giles just nods at me.

“Call me, too,” B says as she makes like her mom and hugs me. “It was really nice talking with you today. And what you’re doing for us – it’s ... wow. Despite everything … I’ll miss you.”

I missed you, Faith.

“Miss you, too.” The words come so easy. “I’ll call you so much you’ll get sick of me. Anythin’ you need, B. Anythin’ at all, you call. You call, and I’ll come runnin.’”

She nods at me, a slight smile on her face. Then she steps back and I’m off – back to my Faithmobile, driving for the highway, letting the wind dry my tears. That went well – really, really well. Now to finish it off. It’s time for a short drive to L.A. before my long, long drive back to Cleveland.

Heh. Short drive. Yeah, right.

Los Angeles is, was, and always will be a madhouse. Why the fuck did I drive here? Without B on the phone telling me exactly where to go I’d have been lost for days. It still takes me hours to make it to the tiny little office building. The sign at the front door says ‘Angel Investigations.’ Heh. Funny shit.

I didn’t expect to find Angel and Cordelia together, but hey – makes my life easier. After the initial shock of seeing me, and some reassurances that it’s a friendly visit, Cordy’s reaction to my offer is way better than the others.’

She bawls on my shoulder.

She’d lived her whole life with money, and having nothing really ate at her. She came to L.A. to be an actress, but that’s a pipe dream and a half, born from having her home life destroyed ‘cause of her father’s stupidity. Now here I come along, giving her back her old life, no strings attached. It’s safe to say I’ve got a new friend now.

Angel’s another matter. Easy to approach, polite and conservative, but very cautious. I offer him the same as B – five mil. He turns me down, saying something about destiny. I try a couple more times, but Soul Boy’s got it in his head that he has to really suffer to be remorseful, and being a millionaire doesn’t seem like suffering. We’re conveniently ignoring the fact that he’s a fucking old vampire and already has money.

So I give the five mil to Cordelia, too. I’m her BFF, now. Also, the money’s still there if Angel needs it. I’m mostly sure that Cordy will stick around to help him out. Mostly.

I get that somewhere in his speech, Soul Boy implied that my paying off the Scoobs was kind of a cop out. I don’t give a shit – I know how much good I’ve accomplished in Cleveland, and the fact that a 200-plus year old vampire that regrets rampaging around and killing hundreds of people is disappointed in me – that doesn’t really tug at my heart strings.

Yes, I did say exactly that to him. His pal, Doyle, laughed like hell.

Still, I do help him the best way I can: I spend a week in L.A. slaying. After an eviscerating demon scared a cop-chick he likes, he’s real keen on getting L.A. under control, and I’m the new queen of city saving.

My newly heightened Slayer senses, a pair of swords, my trusty bow, and a shadow spell mean that I do some serious Ninja-Slayer damage to the demon population, which shocks and scares Angel a bit. Seven days, roughly ten kills a night – you do the math. That’s just under 70 more to add to my count, and the whole fucking city’s in shock. Demonic activity dies right the hell off. It kind of sucks that the vamps will probably credit B for this, but all the important people know I was here.

Heh, poor Soul Boy. He’s used to Buffy being stronger than him, but still kind of predictable and one-dimensional. I think the new and improved Faith, complete with magic and senses as good or better than a vamp’s, terrifies him.

I like it.

I like it so much, I’m going to try to convince B to jump on the spiritual health and fitness bandwagon, and learn a couple spells. ‘Cause if Angel freaks at me, I can’t wait until he gets a load of a new and improved Buffy.

Alright, that’s enough fucking around. Time to haul ass back to Cleveland.