Chapter One

Willow sits cross-legged on Buffy’s bed, fiddling with the little vial in her hands. Her eyes are wide, a small wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows. Buffy sits down across from her, both of them in pajamas and clean faced. On the floor of Buffy’s bedroom, they’ve made up a bed for Willow. “Thanks for doing this with me,” Buffy says.

“Anything I can do,” Willow begins, sounding distraught.

“Will,” Buffy cuts in, a little impatiently, “if you tell me one more time that you’re sorry, I’m going to kick you out and do this by myself.”

Willow immediately closes her mouth. She seems to be settling for telling Buffy she’s sorry with her eyes.

Buffy gives her a severe look, but reaches across the bed and takes her hand, squeezing it. “I told you,” she says. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“I know,” Willow agrees. The wrinkle between her eyes does not go away.

“Does Anya think D’Hoffryn will be back?”

Willow shrugs. “She said she doesn’t think so. There’s plenty of angry women in the sea, I guess. She figures he’ll move on to someone else.”

“That’s good,” Buffy says. “Are you doing okay?”

Surprised, Willow starts to nod, then she switches motions to shaking her head. “No,” she says, “but I’m getting there. I saw a flyer for a Wicca group on campus. I’m gonna check it out. Try to take my mind off Oz, maybe find someone to practice with.” She looks at Buffy apologetically. “Safely!” She adds. “Small stuff. Very small stuff.”

Smiling at her, Buffy says, “I think that’s a good idea, and, Will, you’re a great witch. You know that. You’re grieving. The stuff with D’Hoffryn could have happened to anyone.” She winces as she says it, knowing how it sounds.

Willow gives her a pointed look. “It didn’t happen to you.”

“No,” Buffy agrees. “I just ran away for a few months and got sucked into a Hell dimension.”

“So kind of like now?” Willow ventures, cracking a tiny smile.

Buffy laughs. “I know it was technically all vengeance-y, but it wasn’t all bad.” Some of it was pretty good, in fact. Mostly the parts where she and Faith were naked. Especially the part where Faith took her hand and put it between her legs.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Willow asks, breaking Buffy’s little trip down memory lane. “I know you were in the place with the scary, leather-loving-vampire me, and about Faith being the slayer, but… what was it really like?”

Buffy considers her question. “Different,” she says, after a moment. “Faith had her Watcher, plus Giles, and,” she looks at Willow, a little stricken, “you can’t tell Giles this part.”

Eyes widening, Willow shakes her head. “I won’t tell,” she agrees.

“Ms. Calendar was there,” Buffy says, swallowing hard. “Angel’s dead. She owns a magic shop, and she helps them with slaying. She and Giles were together. He was happy, I think.”

Willow’s face is stricken.

“I know,” Buffy agrees, seeing her look.

“But Xander and me, we were…”

Buffy nods. “Larry Blaisdell was there though,” she says, “and Amy.” She debates for a moment about whether to mention Oz, ultimately deciding against it.

“Wow,” Willow says, processing.

“I know,” Buffy says again. “Weird, right?”

“Really weird,” Willow agrees. “I guess it’s kind of nice, in a really weird way though, right? We’re not there, but other people are, and they’re still fighting, still trying to help people.”

Buffy nods. She’s had the same thought. Maybe every different version of Sunnydale has someone there, trying to keep the Hellmouth closed.

“What was Faith like?”

Looking at her pajama clad knees, Buffy tries to decide how much to say. “She was… the same, I guess, in some ways. Different in others.” She looks back up. “She was good. Strong.”

Willow doesn’t say anything, just waits for her to go on.

Buffy drops her eyes again. “Something happened there,” she says, her voice hesitant.

“Something bad?”

Buffy shakes her head.

“Something good?” Willow prods, unsure where this is going.

“I think so,” Buffy says. She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to gather the courage to tell Willow about what happened between her and Faith. It’s not like she thinks Willow’s homophobic. She’s the sweetest person in the world, and Buffy knows she’ll accept her no matter what, but this is Faith. Not their Faith, but still a Faith.

“Something…” Willow prods again, waiting for her to continue, “with Faith…?”

Buffy nods.

“Okay,” Willow says gamely, trying to puzzle this out. “Something with Faith… something good…” She looks at Buffy, clearly not putting it all together.

“I slept with her,” Buffy blurts out. “More than once.”

Of all the things Willow might have been thinking, this seems to have been very far from the top of the list. Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open in a little ‘O.’

She doesn’t say anything, so Buffy continues talking, a little nervously. “We were working together, and you know how Faith always was with the sex jokes, and, I don’t know, there was a connection there.”

Willow nods, eyes still gigantic.

“Say something,” Buffy says.

Willow opens her mouth, but it takes a moment for any sound to come out. “Uh,” she says, “that’s… not what I thought you were going to say.”

“I know.”

Willow considers for a moment. Her cheeks a little red, she asks, “How was it?”

Surprised, Buffy laughs. “Willow!”

“What?” Willow asks defensively. “You just told me you slept with Faith. Faith the vampire slayer. The girl vampire slayer. I have questions!”

Buffy laughs again. “It was amazing,” she says, honestly, her face going a little pink.

Willow grins, obviously waiting to hear more.

“What do you want me to say?” Buffy asks, covering her face with her hands.

Grabbing her hands, Willow pulls them down from her face. “Don’t hide!” She chides. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Buffy doesn’t not want to. She and Willow talk about pretty much everything. “It was different,” she says, “but just, really good. I don’t know if it’s always like that, with girls, or if it was just Faith.” She wrinkles her forehead in confusion. “Or a slayer thing.”

“So,” Willow says, “is that why you want to talk to Faith now?” She glances down at the small bottle still in her lap.

“Not exactly,” Buffy says. She looks down, the laughter of a moment ago gone. “I guess seeing her there, what she could have been like if she had the watcher, and the friends, and never met me,” she adds ruefully, “it made me think.”

“I can see that,” Willow says.

“She helped me, you know?” Buffy asks. “With the Mayor. I saw her when I was in the hospital, and she told me how to get to him.”

Willow watches her thoughtfully. “You said Faith told you how to beat him, but I didn’t know exactly what that meant. What will you say to her? If it works?”

That’s the million dollar question, and she hasn’t quite figured it out yet. “I guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“Well,” Willow says optimistically, “at least you guys can’t kill each other in the dreamspace.” When Buffy winces, she hastens to add, “Oh, Buffy, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” Buffy assures her. “It’s okay.” She looks away, her gaze moving around the room, still decorated the same as when she was living here full time. Mr. Gordo is back in his rightful place on the bed. “I thought it would be quieter here,” she says, “and I guess I feel closer to her here.”

Willow nods, still not totally understanding.

“So,” Buffy says, with forced cheerfulness, bringing her eyes back to Willow, “I just drink this and then boom, I’m in Faith’s head?”

“Uhh,” Willow says, lifting the small bottle in her hand and swirling the murky contents around, “it’s not exactly like that. You guys are already connected, so this is supposed to help you control where you go in the dreamspace. Theoretically.”

“A glowing endorsement,” Buffy says dryly. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Willow nods and hands her the bottle. Uncorking it, Buffy holds it up in the cheers motion, then she raises it to her lips and drinks the entire thing, even though it takes like mud. She grimaces as she replaces the cork. “Blech.”

Willow wrinkles her nose in sympathy. “Somehow the people writing the spells never think about the flavor.”

Nodding in agreement, Buffy puts the empty bottle on her bedside table. “What now?” She asks.

“Now, you go to sleep.” Willow climbs off the bed, leaving space for Buffy to get under the covers. She settles herself on the floor.

“And you’ll wake me up if it seems like it’s going bad?” Buffy asks uncertainly, as she fluffs her pillow up behind her head.

“Yep,” Willow says. “I promise.”

Buffy reaches for the small table lamp and turns it off, enveloping the room in darkness. “I don’t think it’s going to,” she adds, a little nervously. “Just want to be prepared.”

“I know,” Willow assures her from the floor. “I’ll be here.”

XXXXX

Her bedroom looks the same as ever, only the bed is bare and the sun is shining brightly through the window. Buffy stands by the door in her pajamas, the floorboards warm under her bare feet. She blinks, looking at the floor and expecting to find Willow curled up in her sleeping bag. The floor is bare, but the room doesn’t stay empty for long. Faith walks in, carrying neatly folded sheets in her arms. Wordlessly, she sets them down, plucking the fitted sheet off the pile and shaking it out. She holds one corner out, looking at Buffy expectantly. Before Buffy can reach for it, someone else does. It’s another Buffy, and she steps right through Buffy, taking the sheet and helping Faith start to make the bed.

Unsure what to do, Buffy watches as the two of them make the bed companionably. Maybe this is a good dream. A good sign. They’re making a bed together—that’s nice. Domestic even.

From her side of the bed, dream Buffy says, “They smell good, don't they?”

“What?” Faith asks, seeming a little confused.

“Clean sheets,” dream Buffy says. “Like summer.”

Faith thinks for a second. “I wouldn't know.”

“Right,” dream Buffy says ruefully. “I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, exactly,” real Buffy says, wincing.

Neither of them seems to hear her. She watches as they keep talking, finally meeting at the end of the bed. The potion Giles and Willow cooked up for her was supposed to make it so she could talk to Faith, but so far that doesn’t seem to be working. She’s contemplating throwing herself onto the freshly made bed, just to see if that’ll do anything at all, when the glint of metal appears between them.

“Are you ever gonna take this thing out?” Faith asks, and Buffy watches in horror as the dream version of herself grasps the hilt of Faith’s knife. She twists it viciously in Faith’s abdomen.

“No!” Buffy shouts, stepping forward as Faith cries out in pain.

Faith looks startled, wild eyes darting her way, and for a second Buffy swears their eyes meet. Then her bedroom is gone, and she’s standing in a park, cloudy skies overhead.

Buffy stands there for a moment, her chest too tight, her stomach roiling. She hadn’t given much thought to the state of Faith’s mind before jumping in. She thought it would be like the last time, the two of them talking, some of it wound up in riddles, but mostly clear. She didn’t expect to step into dreams that Faith was already having. Or to see herself stabbing Faith again. That gasp of pain… it was just like the real thing. Buffy will never forget that sound as long as she lives.

She tries to convince herself that maybe that was just Faith’s mind’s reaction to Buffy’s sudden appearance. It’s gotta be weird, someone forcing their way into your coma brain. Especially the person who put you in the coma, she thinks with a grimace.

The park looks perfectly calm. It’s empty except for two people lying on a blanket past some trees up ahead. Buffy glances around once more, then starts in their direction, reasoning that one of them has to be Faith. As she walks closer to them, she sees that it is Faith. She doesn’t look quite like herself, wearing a long skirt and no shoes. Buffy doesn’t immediately recognize the man with her, until she walks close enough to hear his voice. 

“You see?” The Mayor asks, in his usual happy go lucky cadence. “Nothing’s gonna spoil our time together.”

Faith smiles widely at him.

“Who wants cheese cake?” The mayor asks, grinning.

Faith laughs at his enthusiasm as Buffy steps just a little closer, coming up behind the Mayor. She seems about to respond, but then her eyes settle on Buffy. The smile falls off her face.

“Faith?” Buffy asks cautiously.

Around her, the entire park goes still. The faint breeze that was just a moment ago rustling against her pajama bottoms is completely gone. Buffy looks up. The clouds are no longer moving in the sky. It’s dead silent.

“Oops,” Buffy says, mostly to herself, incredibly unnerved. She looks back down to find the Mayor frozen mid-reach into the picnic basket. Faith is sitting up, her face alarmed. “It’s okay,” Buffy says quickly, keeping her voice soft. “You can see me?”

Faith blinks. “What are you wearing?”

Looking down at her pajamas, Buffy frowns. At least they’re moderately respectable, just white cotton pajamas with little bows on them. She didn’t put on the sushi pjs tonight. “I didn’t realize I’d show up in my exact outfit,” she says defensively.

“Show up?” Faith repeats, seeming confused.

Before Buffy can explain, the wind begins to rustle through the trees again. She looks up, and sure enough, the clouds resume moving. When she looks back at Faith, she sees her eyes widening in fear. Buffy looks over her shoulder to see herself again. Dream Buffy stalks toward them with Faith’s knife gripped firmly in her hand.

Real Buffy moves back, already squaring up her fists.

Moving unnaturally fast, dream Buffy arrives in front of the Mayor just as he unfreezes and resumes reaching for the cheesecake.

“No!” Faith screams, but it’s too late.

Dream Buffy slashes the knife across the Mayor’s throat with deadly precision, then embeds it in his chest.

Faith starts hyperventilating as she stumbles to her feet. She’s running away before Buffy can even process what the hell just happened.

Buffy looks at her doppelganger. She wipes her knife clean on the Mayor’s shirt then sets off at a leisurely pace after Faith.

Deciding the best course of action is probably to catch up with Faith before her dream twin does, Buffy grits her teeth and starts to jog after them. She curses herself for not having worn shoes to bed, as her feet connect with pebbles and twigs littering the grass. She follows Faith into the trees she’s disappeared into, but as soon as she crosses the tree line, she finds she’s running in full darkness, with only the light of a full moon to illuminate the way. Up ahead she can make out the outline of Faith, who has helpfully dreamed herself to be wearing boots and her usual attire, no longer the barefoot ingénue out for a midday picnic.

She runs faster after her, slowly making headway, mostly because Faith keeps losing ground as she frantically looks back over her shoulder for her pursuer. Buffy catches up just as Faith runs into a cemetery.

“Faith, wait!” She pants, almost tripping as she catches her toe on an errant tree root. “Ow, damn it!”

Faith casts a sideways look at her, but doesn’t break pace.

Ahead of them, Buffy sees an open grave. “Look out!” She shouts, but Faith’s glancing back for dream Buffy, and she can’t stop herself in time. She goes flying into the hole, landing with a soft thud at the bottom.

Inside, she’s frantically sliding through the mud, muttering, “No, no, no,” to herself in a horrified voice.

Buffy looks back. Her doppelganger is walking toward them, knife still clutched in her fist. Unsure what else to do, Buffy drops to her knees and extends her hand to Faith. “Come on,” she says.

Faith’s wild eyes swing to her.

“Now!” Buffy says, stretching her hand down further.

Faith reaches up and clasps her hand, mud coating both their palms as Buffy yanks upward. Faith’s weight comes easier than she expected, and Faith crashes into her on the way out, knocking Buffy backward into the dirt. They right themselves quickly, getting back to their feet. Pushing Faith behind her, Buffy turns to face her doppelganger once more.

Dream Buffy tilts her head, her face otherwise expressionless. She tries to step past Buffy, but Buffy counters her movement, staying in front of Faith.

Dream Buffy’s mouth is a hard line. “I told you I had things to do,” she says, in an ugly voice.

“You don’t,” Buffy says back, her hands in front of her torso defensively, but still loose. “Nothing to do here.” She takes a step backward, feeling Faith mirror her movement.

The other Buffy observes this, then she shrugs. Face still utterly flat, she charges at the two of them, knife glinting in the moonlight.

Buffy shoves Faith away, then drops at the knees. Dream Buffy’s moving too fast and she connects solidly with the shoulder Buffy drives into her abdomen, flipping up and over her.

She lands on her back on the ground, easily rolling to her feet. The knife never leaves her grasp. She ignores Buffy, immediately setting her sights on Faith once more.

Buffy has to practically dive between them to beat Dream Buffy to the punch. Literally. Buffy’s fist meets Dream Buffy’s cheek with enough force to put most anyone, human or demon, out, but Dream Buffy just absorbs it. She twists with the impact, but doesn’t so much as stumble.

Dream Buffy punches back, and Buffy goes flying backward, landing painfully on a tombstone. She’s stunned for a second, groaning in pain. She sees now that there’s no fighting this version of herself. She is the boogeyman in Faith’s dreams, too strong to take on, too quick to outrun.

Buffy looks up through swimming eyes to see her dream self grasping the front of Faith’s shirt. Faith kicks her, hard. Hard enough to shatter someone’s kneecap.

Dream Buffy shakes her leg as though dislodging a fly, and flings Faith to the ground. Faith lands on her back, heels already digging into the mud, trying to push herself back and away from her advancing assailant.

It isn’t going to work; Buffy knows that already. Dream Buffy is too fast. She drags herself back to her feet, wondering vaguely if injuries sustained in Faith’s mind are going to carry over to real life. If so, she’ll have one hell of a bruise.

Forcing her body to move faster than it wants to, Buffy makes her way to the two of them.

Dream Buffy seizes Faith by the ankle, yanking her closer again. She leaps atop Faith gracefully, sitting astride her stomach. Her knees pin Faith’s arms to the ground.

Faith bucks beneath her, trying to free herself. “Please,” she says, sounding pitiful.

Buffy’s almost reached them, and she watches with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as Dream Buffy leans in, her face millimeters from Faith’s. “If you’re a screamer,” she says, with more enthusiasm than she’s shown so far, “feel free.” Then she sits up and raises the knife over her head.

Buffy covers the last few feet as Dream Buffy thrusts the knife down toward Faith’s chest. She kicks, her foot connecting solidly with the knife, and sending it flipping out of her doppelganger’s grasp. Buffy spins, lifting her other foot as she does and kicking Dream Buffy solidly in the temple.

The doppelganger is flung off Faith. Not far enough. Not as far as she would be in the real world, but Buffy takes her opportunity. She reaches down and grabs Faith’s wrist, intending to yank her to her feet.

Instead, they find themselves in Faith’s old motel room.

Faith trembles beside her, her too fast breathing making Buffy’s own internal alarm bells clang even harder. Buffy’s standing between Faith and the door, still clutching one of her wrists. Cautiously, she relaxes, taking a small step away when nothing immediately terrifying happens. “It’s okay,” she says, turning to face Faith. “I think we’re safe now.”

“There’s nowhere safe,” Faith says flatly.

Buffy looks at her, trembling, dirt streaked on her face. “Why not?” She asks.

Faith looks at the door as if it might grow teeth and bite them. “She always finds me.”

“Me, you mean,” Buffy says, frowning.

Faith looks back at her. She nods, then she looks down at Buffy’s pajamas again. “You’re dirty,” she says, sounding puzzled.

“Chasing someone through the woods and then almost falling in an open grave has that effect,” Buffy says. “Sorry I couldn’t just dream myself a new outfit.”

Faith narrows her eyes, looking like gears are turning in her brain. “B?” She finally asks, a note of surprise in her voice.

Before Buffy can respond, there’s a thump at the door. Someone or something has hit it from the outside.

Faith immediately begins freaking out, backing up until her legs hit the bed.

The door rattles as it’s hit, harder this time.

“There has to be somewhere we can go,” Buffy says. Faith’s panic is contagious, and Buffy’s beginning to feel clammy with nerves.

“She’ll always find me,” Faith says in a tortured voice.

The third hit makes the door begin to splinter.

Scrambling backward over the bed, Faith crouches on the far side, barely visible.

Buffy tries to think over the feeling of fear swirling up in her stomach. Faith can’t think of anywhere safe, so Buffy will have to think of something for both of them. But how can she think of somewhere safe in Faith’s head?

Then again, does it have to be Faith’s head?

Suddenly feeling quite sure of herself, she rounds the bed toward Faith. The door makes a groaning sound behind her and caves partially in. Buffy looks back to find herself standing on the other side of the shattered door, already reaching through the hole she’s made to force her way in.

“Faith,” Buffy says, crouching down beside her. “I know a place.”

Faith’s staring in horror at the doorway, and it takes Buffy grasping her shoulder to get her to look away.

“We have to go,” Buffy says, holding out her other hand for Faith to take.

Across the room, dream Buffy is kicking in splintered pieces of the door and stepping through. Her boot meets the floor with a crunching sound.

“Now,” Buffy says urgently. There’s nowhere to run in this room, and she’s not sure what happens if dream Buffy actually stabs Faith, but she doesn’t want to find out.

Faith’s face is a mask of fear, but she manages to reach out and clasp Buffy’s hand.

Concentrating on Faith’s hand in hers, Buffy closes her eyes.

When she cautiously opens them again, she’s pleased to see they’re no longer in Faith’s motel room. They’re crouched behind the counter in the library at Sunnydale High School, still clutching each other’s hands. Faith looks up, then back at her. “We’re in the library,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“I’m never in the library.”

“I am,” Buffy says, “sometimes. In my dreams, I mean.” She gingerly lets go of Faith and stands up. The library is quiet and warm, smelling like old books and furniture polish, like it always did in real life. Behind them, the door to Giles’s office is ajar, his desk shrouded in shadow. Best of all, she’s back in an actual outfit, no more dirty pajamas. “We’ll be safe now.”

“This is a trick,” Faith says, half to herself, not moving.

“No,” Buffy says.

Faith puts her head in both hands. “Not again,” she says under her breath. “Not again.”

“Not what again?” Buffy asks, cautiously getting on her knees next to Faith.

“You,” Faith says, from behind her hands.

Buffy carefully touches Faith’s knee, immediately withdrawing her hand when Faith yanks her leg back, folding herself smaller. She swallows hard. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she says softly.

“Yeah, you are,” Faith says, sounding pitiful. “This way’s worse. Just stab me already.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buffy says, completely lost.

Faith drops her hands, her eyes red and watery. They look at each other for a moment, Buffy waiting for Faith to explain, and Faith also waiting for something. Buffy’s not sure what.

Faith sighs deeply, then she leans forward, letting one knee touch the ground between them, and takes Buffy’s shoulders in both hands. She pulls a bewildered Buffy forward and kisses her.

Buffy freezes for a second in surprise. This is not the easy, toe curling kiss of the Faith she left behind in the other dimension. Faith is desperate; she’s pushing a little too hard, her fingers digging into Buffy’s shoulders. Her mouth tastes vaguely coppery.

Buffy leans into it, one hand coming up to grip Faith’s elbow, the other landing clumsily on her knee. She keeps her touch gentle, trying to use her body language to soothe whatever is making Faith so frantic right now.

It doesn’t seem to be working. Buffy decides to try the complete opposite strategy. She pushes herself closer, her hand sliding up Faith’s thigh to her hip. She pulls Faith in toward her, wrapping her arm around Faith’s waist and holding her tightly. The cold tile of the library floor digs into her knees.

Faith whimpers against her mouth when Buffy pulls her flush against her. Her hands move into Buffy’s hair, a little too roughly, almost daring Buffy to push her away. Instead of doing that, Buffy brings her free hand to Faith’s cheek. Her thumb is soft when she strokes Faith’s cool skin. She grips her back firmly with her other hand, not making any move to end this.

Buffy doesn’t know what she’s expecting next, but it’s not Faith breaking the kiss and hugging Buffy to her. Faith presses her face into Buffy’s neck.

Buffy wraps both arms around her, one of her hands stroking Faith’s long hair carefully down her back. She still has no idea what Faith was talking about, or how that relates to them kissing, but it doesn’t seem like now’s the time to ask questions.

Faith stays where she is for another minute, then she tentatively pulls herself out of Buffy’s arms. She looks down between them, confused. “Where’s the knife?” She asks.

“I don’t have the knife,” Buffy says reassuringly.

“You always have it,” Faith says, her eyebrows drawing together. “You make me think that you… but, then you have the knife.”

Now, Buffy starts to get it. The version of herself stalking Faith in scenario after scenario isn’t a fluke Buffy caused by appearing in Faith’s mind tonight. She sits back on her heels, feeling sick. “I make you think what?”

Faith doesn’t answer. She’s obviously puzzling things over in her mind. She looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Buffy doesn’t move, Faith says, “You don’t have the knife.”

Buffy shakes her head.

Slowly getting to her feet, Faith looks over the counter into the empty library. Her eyes bounce around the room as though looking for threats, before settling back on Buffy. Her eyes are wide. “Buffy?” She asks. When she speaks, the library flickers around them, and for a moment they’re on the roof at Faith’s apartment, and Buffy feels the cool metal of a handcuff around her wrist.

“It’s me,” Buffy says, and the library looks solid around them again. “The real me.” She doesn’t know whether that makes Faith more or less afraid.

“This is your head?” Faith asks, her voice sounding cautious.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. She steps back, walking around the counter toward the table and chairs. “Your head was kind of scary, with the constant running to avoid… me.” She sits down in one of the chairs, watching as Faith reaches out to lightly touch the countertop. “Are all your dreams like that?”

“I don’t know,” Faith answers, slowly making her way to the end of the counter, touching everything she passes as though she needs to keep a tangible hold on something to stay here.

“What did you mean a minute ago?” Buffy probes. “What do I make you think?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Faith says flatly.

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Faith asks, her voice not hard exactly, but not overly friendly.

“It just does.”

“That’s not an answer,” Faith says. Then she adds, “What are you doing here?”

What is she doing here? Trying to recreate the way she felt in the other dimension? Trying to make amends? “I came,” Buffy starts, then stops. She tries again, “I wanted to see you.”

“Here I am,” Faith says bitterly. “Just where you wanted me.”

“I didn’t want—”

“You tried to gut me,” Faith cuts her off.

Buffy winces. “You’d have done the same to me if you had the chance.”

“I guess it’s okay then!” Faith says, her voice angry. “You try to kill me, then you pop into my head when you feel like it, just to chat?”

Buffy tries to cut in. “I’m sorry—”

“You’re sorry?” Faith repeats incredulously. “You tried to kill me, and you keep trying to kill me. Over and over again. If it’s not the cemetery, it’s—” She cuts herself off abruptly.

“What?” Buffy asks, softly.

Faith doesn’t answer immediately. She stands at the end of the counter, her chest heaving, angry, embarrassed. Finally she says, “It’s not real, and I know it’s not, but you tell me it is. You tell me it’s all gonna be okay, and you kiss me like it’s real.” She looks at Buffy then, betrayal in her eyes. “And you kill me. Every time.”

Not too long ago, Faith’s words would have shocked her. She’d thought that Faith was just a flirt. That she just enjoyed seeing Buffy squirm with each of her innuendos. Her time in the other dimension changed her perspective on that. There’s an attraction between her and Faith, from both of them; she gets that now. It may have taken her a while to realize it, but it doesn’t look like Faith had the same problem.

Buffy can understand the way Faith kissed her now. She may be a little late to this party, but wanting something that’s only going to hurt you? Kill you even? That Buffy knows a little too much about. She just never expected Faith to feel like that about her. “I’m sorry,” Buffy tells Faith again, for lack of anything better to say. She crosses her arms over her stomach, feeling small.

Faith seems to deflate before her eyes. She leaves the counter, coming to sit in the chair beside her. “How long has it been?” She asks, sounding tired now.

Buffy winces internally. “Six months,” she answers. “You’re in the hospital. You haven’t woken up.”

This doesn’t seem to be particularly surprising to Faith. She stares at the library door, her face expressionless. Then she asks, “Why’d you let me kiss you?”

Buffy waits for Faith to look back at her, but she doesn’t seem to want to. Her eyes are fixed firmly on the door. After a moment, Buffy admits, “I guess I wanted you to.”

Faith snorts. “Since when?”

Buffy thinks about that. “I don’t know. Longer than I realized, maybe.”

The intercom speaker over the library door crackles. Then a tinny voice emerges, “Buffy Summers to the Principal’s Office.” The voice sounds distinctly like Willow.

Faith doesn’t look at her. “Sounds like you gotta motor,” she says in that same tired voice.

“I guess so,” Buffy says. It doesn’t feel like she’s been asleep for very long. She’s barely gotten to talk to Faith. “I could come back,” she suggests hesitantly. “If you want me to. We could meet here.”

Faith doesn’t exactly jump at the chance to agree she wants Buffy to come back, but she asks, “How?”

Buffy thinks about it for a moment, then she gets up and walks back to the counter. She bends down, rifling through drawers for a moment until she finds what she’s looking for. Choosing a pen from the cup behind the counter, she presses it to the little cream colored card and begins to write. When she’s finished, she comes back around the counter and joins Faith at the table. “Here,” she says, holding out the card.

Faith accepts it, looking at it skeptically. “A hall pass?”

“It says you’re needed in the library,” Buffy points out.

“Am I?” Faith asks.

“What?”

“Needed?”

“Buffy Summers to the Principal’s Office,” the speaker repeats, Willow sounding more frantic now.

Buffy meets Faith’s eyes, starting to reply, when she jolts awake. Willow’s sitting on the edge of her bed, shaking her shoulders roughly. The bedside lamp is on, and Willow’s face is a mask of worry.

“Buffy!” She exclaims. “Are you okay?”

Buffy nods, a little dazed. “I’m fine,” she says. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Willow answers. “You started crying, and I got scared.”

Buffy reaches up, touching her cheek and finding it damp with tears. “I’m okay,” she repeats. “Sorry I scared you.”

“Did it work?” Willow asks, still looking down at her. “Did you see her?”

Nodding, Buffy takes a moment to collect her thoughts. “It was bad.”

“What did she do?”

“It’s not what she did,” Buffy admits. “It’s what I did. Or I’m doing. In her brain.” When Willow only looks confused, Buffy elaborates. “She’s dreaming about me stabbing her. Hunting her.” She sits up, wiping her face with both hands.

Willow puts her hand on Buffy’s leg and squeezes. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy gives her a watery smile.

“Do you think you’ll try again?”

There’s no way she can’t, after what she saw tonight. She put Faith in this coma. She’s the reason Faith is trapped in this living nightmare. There has to be a way to fix this. “I think so.”

Willow worries her lip with her teeth for a moment. Then she says, “Please be careful.”

Buffy looks at her, confused.

Willow shrugs uncomfortably. “I know meeting the other Faith gave you this different perspective on her, but, Buffy, she did choose to join the Mayor.”

“I know,” Buffy agrees.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t try,” Willow adds. “Just… be careful.”

“I always am,” Buffy says.

XXXXX

In the long term care wing of Sunnydale hospital, Ruby Greaves, the night shift nurse, sits behind her desk, distractedly eating a sandwich while reviewing the notes left by day shift. She notices something a little strange on the patient in Room 4. Day shift dutifully updated the chart every two hours, turning the patient as required to prevent bed sores. The last update indicated the patient had shown a withdrawal response to pain. Ruby flips further back through the patient’s chart. 18 year old female, severe head trauma in May, extensor posturing to pain, no evidence of verbal response, no eye opening.

Ruby abandons her sandwich and heads for Room 4. Inside the room, the patient appears as she has every day for months, limp and unresponsive. Ruby reaches for the patient’s hand, picking it up gently. She presses her thumb into the girl’s nail bed, and sure enough, her hand jerks back. Interesting, Ruby thinks, carefully grasping the patient’s hand and placing it back at her side.

She startles when she glances up and sees the patient’s eyes are open. A moment later, they fall closed once more. She leans in closer. “Hi, Faith,” she says warmly, as she does most nights. “They treat you well while I was gone?”

The girl’s eyes don’t move again.

Still, eyes opening to pain, withdrawing her hand, these are signs of improvement. The first she’s seen of this patient in her time on the ward. Ruby pats Faith’s hand gently again, and heads back to her desk and waiting sandwich. She’ll ask the other nurses to pay extra attention to this one. Six months is a long time to have been in a coma, but maybe she’s truly making progress. Stranger things have happened, especially in this town.