Crouching behind a bush, Buffy keeps herself tucked out of sight while she peers in the direction of the fleeing demon. It’s smaller than average, running on four legs, and fast, but not faster than a slayer. She’ll catch it easy enough. And hey—it’s not a fleshy, no mouth demon that wants to give her some kind of slay-fully transmitted disease, so bonus points for that. Giles still hasn’t figured out what ‘aspect of the demon’ she might get from that particularly gross encounter, but she’s not letting herself worry about that tonight. Her friends might be enjoying their newfound love of basketball with every other person her age, but she’s saving the world. That’s important.

And sure, things are still weird with Angel after the Faith thing—Buffy resolutely shakes her head. Not thinking about Faith. Nope. Not today. Things are weird with Angel after everything that’s happened, but there’s no sign of a tail or horns on her yet, and she’s seconds away from bagging this demon. Then all will be right with the world, and she can go home to a bubble bath and the half an apple pie sitting on the counter, leftover from their Easter dinner.

There’s rustling up ahead, and Buffy whips her stake free, springing out of the bushes just as the thing rushes by her hiding spot. “I don’t think so,” she says, managing to get a hand on it.

There’s a jingling sound, and her hand closes around leather. Oh. It’s a dog, looking up at her in confusion and concern. Great, she thinks sourly, stuffing her stake back in her pocket. This is a new low: Buffy the Dog Catcher. With a sigh, she squats down and holds her hand out in a non-threatening way for the dog to sniff. He’s a big thing, with dark shaggy hair and wide, brown eyes. His collar reads Peanut. “C’mon, Peanut,” Buffy says, as the dog snuffles tentatively at her hand. “Let’s get you home.”

The address on Peanut’s collar isn’t dark in spite of the late hour, and Buffy knocks on the front door, her hand still holding the dog’s collar. Peanut’s family is thrilled to see him back safe and sound. Admittedly, Buffy has a bit more pep in her step as she heads toward home. She may not have bagged any big kills tonight, but she brought a family back together. That’s not nothing.

Walking up the steps of her front porch, Buffy’s shifted into pie anticipation mode. She’s put Angel out of her mind and managed to do the same with any potential demon body parts she may or may not be growing. So it comes as some surprise to suddenly find her head throbbing and her hands curling into fists. She’s angry, really angry, and she has to grab the column to steady herself.

What the hell? Buffy thinks, gripping the cement hard.

Just as quickly as it started, the anger fades, leaving her stomach tied in knots. Buffy sucks in a deep breath. This feeling is more familiar. She knows all about guilt, the deep in your gut feeling that you’d do anything to get rid of but can’t seem to shake. This is worse than that. It coils in her belly, snaking through her chest until it’s in her throat. A lump forms, threatening to choke her.

This isn’t right, Buffy has the presence of mind to think and she stumbles for the door, getting her key in the lock on the second try. She closes the door behind her and turns the lock, pressing her head to the wood as her body slowly relaxes.  When she can breathe again without feeling like her chest is constricted, Buffy stands up straight. This has to be the demon thing. She just hopes by tomorrow, Giles will have some good news on how to reverse it.  

XXXXX

Before she can see Giles, Buffy runs into her friends. They tell her all about the game she missed, and everything’s going pretty normally until she realizes she can hear Xander’s thoughts. It’s not just Xander either—she can hear everyone’s thoughts. It’s pretty interesting (and a little disturbing when she lingers too long near some guys in the hall). She speed walks to the library, eager to tell Giles.

“Well,” Giles says, when Buffy’s told him about her shiny new telepathy, “this is astounding.”

Buffy nods eagerly. Who would have thought she’d get a cool new power instead of a tail? “It was happening out in the hallway. Principal Snyder has “Walk Like an Egyption” stuck in his head.” As she’s speaking, the same song begins projecting from Giles’s thoughts into hers. Smiling faintly, Buffy adds, “It's weird but, Giles, think about it. Think about what I could do.”

“It could be very useful,” Giles agrees. “You could anticipate your opponent's every move. Turn his plans against him.”

“Find out what they are,” Buffy adds.

Giles blinks in confusion, and thinks, What is she…?

“The Mayor,” Buffy says. Then, slightly more reluctantly, “Faith.” She grips the edge of the table she’s sitting on a little harder at the thought, before forcing her hand to loosen.

That may not be the best idea. “I’m not sure about using your new, err, skill, on Faith.”

“Why not?” Buffy asks, although honestly, she has her own reservations. Does she really want to know what the inside of Faith’s mind looks like? She got a pretty good glimpse at the mansion, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I have a theory,” Giles begins. Not that any of those puritanical jobsworths want to hear it. “As slayers, you both have certain enhanced mental acuities, prophetic dreams for instance. All slayers are connected through dreams, to some extent. With you both active at the same time, I suspect you and Faith share a greater mental bond than you know.”

Buffy frowns.

“If that’s the case, I worry that this telepathy you’re experiencing will be stronger with her.”

“Stronger how?”

“I don’t know,” Giles admits. Although I’m sure it can’t be good.

Hesitating, Buffy points out, “This could be our chance to get valuable intel.”

Is that the only reason she wants to try this?

“What other reason would there be?” Buffy asks, ignoring Giles’s frown of disapproval at her not giving him the chance to speak.

“Perhaps you still think there’s something in her worth saving?” Giles suggests gently. Maybe there is.

“You think there could be?” Buffy asks. “Giles, she shackled me to a wall to play doctor, and I don’t mean that in a fun way. She brought surgical tools.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Giles says. If we hadn’t screwed things up… Wesley is an arrogant little weasel.

That brings a smile to Buffy’s lips. “Well,” she says, “either way, we need the info. All we’ve figured out so far is that the ascension definitely doesn’t include the demon Amethyst, and I don’t think that’s really gonna cut it.”

Azarath, Giles thinks in a sigh. “You’re right,” he says. “Please be careful.”

“I always am,” Buffy agrees. She’s gotta get to class, but something else is still on her mind. “Will I for sure only get one aspect of the demon?”

“As far as I can tell from my research,” Giles says. He leans against the banister beside the stairs. “Why do you ask?”

Buffy fills him in on the abrupt mood swings she experienced last night on the front porch, watching his face wrinkle in concern. “I was so mad,” Buffy says. “I thought it was a demon thing, you know, going all ‘grrrr?’”

Giles’s thoughts run through her mind in a not unpleasant flurry. Perhaps the Book of Kelsor will have something. Or the Guttenberg. It doesn’t sound familiar. Let’s hope it’s not demonic. Buffy has enough on her plate. “I’ll look into it,” Giles promises.

“Thank you,” Buffy says, hopping down from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an English class to get to.”

Giles glances at the clock. “The period isn’t over for another two minutes.”

“Let’s just say I’m excited for class today,” Buffy says cheerfully. “I have a feeling I really understood the reading.”

Giles nods, still not quite getting it.

As Buffy disappears through the double doors, she hears a final thought from Giles: Wesley will be here soon… maybe I can lock the doors and turn off the lights.

XXXXX

Giles’s words of caution are in the back of Buffy’s mind as she stands outside of the apartment building where Faith is apparently living now. It looks nice, much nicer than the Motor Inn for sure. For a moment, she debates with herself about whether she should just go home, tell Giles he was right and she didn’t go after all. It wouldn’t be because she really thinks he’s right though. It would be because she doesn’t want to see Faith. Even now, more than two weeks after the fact, Buffy feels sick thinking about Faith with Angel, seeing them kissing… how easy it all seemed for Faith. Giles might be right—Buffy does still want to believe there’s something in Faith worth saving. She just also wants to save Faith without having to look her in the eyes again.

Unfortunately, she’s gained the power of telepathy, not achieving miracles, so Buffy gathers her courage and starts for the door. The lock on the security door would be no match for a slayer, but it turns out to be unlocked anyway, and Buffy lets herself in. Willow’s search turned up a lease for a corner unit on the second floor, so Buffy heads upstairs, listening to Faith’s neighbors’ thoughts on the way. One of the neighbors is in the shower, deftly winning the re-do of the argument she had with her boss hours ago, and Buffy has to smile a little as she makes her way down the hall. Unfortunately, all is quiet at Apartment 212, and there’s no sign that Faith’s at home. Buffy circles the whole floor just in case they got the unit number wrong somehow, but she doesn’t hear anything that sounds like Faith.

It’s early evening, so Faith could really be anywhere. Might as well start combing the cemeteries, Buffy thinks in frustration. She doesn’t know for sure that Faith’s still slaying, but something tells her that Faith won’t be able to give it up. She likes the thrill of it too much.

The first three graveyards are a bust, unless you count the vamps Buffy bags. Like with Angel, she gets no feedback from their minds as they tussle with her and ultimately meet the pointy end of her stake. If possible, Buffy’s in an even worse mood now that she’s got Angel at the forefront of her brain again. It figures that she’d get mind reading powers and still have no idea what her boyfriend is thinking. It’s not like Angel’s ever given her a reason to doubt him, not when he’s been himself anyway. It’s just that Faith’s… Faith. She’s beautiful. She does what she wants without worrying constantly about the consequences. Buffy tried that exactly twice, both times with disastrous results. It’s not just the bad girl thing either—Buffy still believes that before the whole ‘aligning herself with evil’ thing, Faith was a good person. And Angel’s totally the type to want to save someone from herself.

This would all be so much easier if she could just read his damn mind, she thinks bitterly as she enters her fourth cemetery of the night. Fortunately, it doesn’t take too long for her to realize she’s found what she’s looking for. She hears the sounds of fighting nearby and almost immediately cheers up.

Buffy feels newly energized, almost strangely so. She picks up her pace as she heads toward the noise, her skin practically itching for a fight. Her lips curl into a smile of anticipation. Maneuvering her stake from her pocket, she savors the comfort of the wood in her hand. Buffy pauses next to a mausoleum, using it as cover when she spots Faith 50 yards away. Faith’s dressed in dark clothes, her long hair fanning around her as she punches and kicks, wheels and dodges.

That all you got?

Buffy startles at the sudden intrusion of Faith’s voice in her head. It feels too close, as if Faith’s whispering in her ear. She can see the glint of light off the blade of Faith’s knife, so close to her face, and hear the vicious pleasure in her voice when Faith threatened her at the mansion. Seeing her again now, Buffy feels a momentary pinprick of dread, but it’s quickly drowned out as she watches Faith and the vampire she’s fighting. Everything else fades away, and Buffy’s breath quickens slightly. She feels steady and calm, like nothing could possibly go wrong.

That’s it, fang face. Come a little closer.

Faith’s stake is in her hand now, and she sends the vamp sprawling onto its back with a vicious scissor kick. As Buffy watches, she jumps on top of the prone vamp and brings her stake flawlessly down to its heart.

Satisfaction blooms in Buffy’s chest, as clearly as if it were her own stake that reduced the vamp to dust. She can even feel her heart beating a little harder. This is weird, Buffy thinks, confused. It’s almost like…

“Oh, no,” Buffy mutters, speaking before she means to.

Faith looks up, her dark eyes cutting through the shadows and zeroing in on Buffy easily. She’s back on her feet before Buffy can so much as blink.

This isn’t good. The post slay happies disappear abruptly, and a spike of fear makes her breath catch. This is definitely not good. This is what Faith’s feeling. Why is she feeling Faith’s feelings?!

Forcing herself to focus, Buffy steps away from the mausoleum wall, tucking her stake back in her pocket as she does so. Better to appear non-threatening.

Faith doesn’t move toward her, merely raises unimpressed eyebrows as Buffy approaches. Her expression remains unmoved, but the feelings radiating through Buffy’s body say something completely different.

It would be kind of cool—this feeling someone else’s feelings thing—under different circumstances. As it is, it’s kind of hard to concentrate on herself when she’s being bombarded with wave after wave of emotion. Does Faith feel like this all the time?

“You like the show?” Faith asks, her voice light. It doesn’t match the turmoil Buffy’s now feeling within her. The fear is still there, a little quieter now that Buffy hasn’t made any move toward her, but there’s something warm in her belly too. Faith is… excited to see her?

Buffy doesn’t respond immediately, busy trying to decipher all the reactions coming her way, and a healthy dose of annoyance joins the warring emotions. What is she doing here? Faith thinks, as loud and clear as Buffy’s own thoughts. Keeping tabs on me? Probably wants to make sure I’m not with her boyfriend.

There’s a sense of satisfaction with that, but it’s brief, fading beneath Buffy’s own anger. She’s not going to get drawn into fighting with Faith about Angel. She needs to stay on track. She’s here on business. “Just surprised to see you out slaying,” Buffy says noncommittally. “Figured the Mayor would have put the kibosh on you dusting any of his associates.”

“A girl’s got needs,” Faith says, slipping her stake inside her jacket sleeve with forced casualness. “He understands that.” I’m nobody’s lap dog. I do what I want.

“Or vamps don’t factor heavily into his ascension plans,” Buffy suggests.

A smug kind of amusement curls Faith’s mouth into a smirk. Buffy feels it too, and it makes her want to punch the expression off Faith’s face. “Guess you’ll find out,” Faith says. He’ll probably eat whatever vamps are left after the ascension anyway. Transformation like that? Boss’ll be starving.

“You sure he’s going to need you after this whole ascension thing?” Buffy prompts further, watching Faith closely. “Demons aren’t exactly known for their loyalty.”

Buffy’s head feels full with Faith’s feelings… more anger, but underneath, is that a little uncertainty?

“You worried about me now?” Faith asks, her eyes going wide with overacted earnestness. “Aww, B, I didn’t know you cared.” How stupid does she think I am?

“I care, Faith,” Buffy says, and she does mean it, in spite of everything that’s happened.

A hot flame of rage fills Buffy’s chest before settling into a smolder. Faith rolls her eyes theatrically. She’s so full of shit.

“I was listening,” Buffy says, stepping a little closer.

Faith doesn’t move, but Buffy feels the tips of her fingers tingle a bit. She can see that Faith’s readying herself for an attack.

“Everything you said at Angel’s place,” Buffy adds. “I heard you.”

And all it took to get your attention was chaining you to a wall, Faith thinks. Buffy feels a little sick to her stomach, not unlike last night on her porch. Is that guilt?

“You came here because you needed a friend,” Buffy says. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

Too busy with the dead boyfriend, I guess. “Kinda surprised you’re still going for the kumbaya, let’s be BFF tactic,” Faith says. “I figured making out with your boyfriend in front of you would have put you out a bit. I guess you’re not the jealous type, huh?”

The barb hits its intended target, and Buffy has to stop herself from lashing out. She flexes her fingers subtly, ensuring they don’t curl into fists. “I’m not here to talk about Angel.”

Faith grins. “So you are pissed.” There’s that satisfied feeling again. “I know,” Faith says with faux apology in her voice, “I broke the girl code. My bad.” It was harder for me than it was for her. Disgust curdles in her stomach.

“I’m over it,” Buffy says magnanimously, although she’s nothing of the sort. 

Yeah, right.

“You don’t even like Angel,” Buffy says. “It wasn’t about him.”

She’s not wrong about that.

“It was about me and you.”

“Me and you,” Faith echoes, her voice flat. Her thoughts hit Buffy’s brain in a panicked whir. She doesn’t mean it like that. She doesn’t know. She can’t. There’s a sudden squeeze of anxiety like a hand around Buffy’s throat, then the burn of embarrassment.

Fury comes in like a safety net, soothing the embarrassment and pushing aside the worry. Fucking bitch. She just thinks everything’s about her.

Buffy stares at her, trying to make Faith’s thoughts make sense. Before she can say anything else, the energy coming from Faith goes quiet. Buffy understands why a half second later, when her own senses alert her. Something’s coming toward them.

“Girl talk’s sure been fun,” Faith says, looking past her for signs of threat. “You expecting company?”

“No,” Buffy says. “You?”

Faith shakes her head.

Buffy risks diverting her attention from Faith and turns half her head toward the further recesses of the cemetery. The shadows shift, revealing several forms stalking toward them.

Beside her, Faith’s brimming over with a sort of nervous excitement. She squares her shoulders and turns toward the approaching group.

Shaking her head, Buffy mimics her stance. There’s still plenty of space between them, and Buffy makes no move to close it. She can hardly feel her own pre-slay anticipation over the sensation of Faith’s.  

As the group gets closer, Buffy’s senses clock them, her eyes agreeing a moment later: vampires, eight in all.

There’s no hint of recognition from Faith, so Buffy shuffles her feet, moving a little closer to her.

One vampire breaks from the rest, moving to the center of the pack and striding forward.

Like Brad Pitt’s ugly brother, she hears Faith think, and Buffy internally chuckles. The vampire has the same hairstyle and strong jawline, but his features are thin and pinched.

“Slayers,” the ugly Pitt brother greets them in a jovial voice.

“Slay-ees,” Buffy responds. Outwardly she sounds calm, but internally, she’s more than a little nervous. There are more vampires than the two of them have ever taken on together, and they’re not exactly on the same side right now. What if these are vampires looking to get in the Mayor’s good graces? They’ll all come after her. What will Faith do then? Stand by and watch?

From Faith, Buffy’s still not detecting any nervousness.

The ugly Pitt hones in on Buffy. “We weren’t expecting to find you with the other one.”

The first flicker of heat comes from Faith at that.

Buffy must look puzzled because the vamp smiles at her, all teeth. “Word travels fast.” He inclines his head toward Faith. “Word is that you’ve got irreconcilable differences these days.”

“And you’re what, a divorce lawyer?” Faith asks, sounding bored. God, they love to hear themselves talk.

“More like a concerned citizen.”

“Concerned about what?” Buffy asks.

“The ascension, of course,” Ugly says, turning his attention to Buffy.

This takes her by surprise, and she feels an echo of her surprise from Faith.

Who are these guys?

“Why don’t you want an ascension?” Buffy asks, capitalizing on this opportunity. She hasn’t gotten much from Faith’s mind, and they still need to know what the Mayor is up to.

Ugly rolls his yellow eyes. “Some guy deciding he wants to be a giant demon and eat up half the populace doesn’t sit well with us. I would have thought you’d agree.”

This is the first time she’s heard the ascension put in these terms, but it jives with what Faith told them at the mansion. The Mayor’s transforming, and apparently it won’t be pretty. “I do,” Buffy says neutrally. “I’m a little confused as to why you’re not on team ascension though.”

“This is our town,” Ugly says. “Our food supply. And we’re not gonna be run out by some Ward Cleaver wannabee with a god complex.”

“Your town?” Buffy echoes. “You guys don’t look familiar.”

“Hi,” calls a voice from the left. “Excuse me?”

Buffy looks that way to find a dark haired vampire waving at her.

“Hi, Buffy. Not sure if you remember me?” He retracts his game face and offers her a sheepish smile.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Faith thinks, and even her internal monologue is laced with irritation.

It takes Buffy a moment to place him. “Lance?” She asks, dredging up the name from the recesses of her memory. He was a year ahead of her in school and made it through last year’s graduation intact if memory serves.

Lance beams at her. “Yeah!”

Impatience rolls off Faith, but Buffy ignores that, mustering up an awkward smile in return. “How’ve you been?”

He points at his mouth. “Vampire! You?”

“Pretty much this,” Buffy says, gesturing to Ugly with a frown.

“Makes sense,” Lance says, nodding as if he understands the awkwardness. “Hey, Heidi’s here, too. Heidi Barrie.” He points toward the opposite end of the group where a blond vampire in a crop top gives her a bored looking wave.

Jesus fucking Christ, Faith thinks, her voice booming in Buffy’s brain. “Sorry to cut this reunion short,” she says, “but can we get to the part where we fight? The ascension’s happening. You don’t wanna be here for it? Leave town.”

“See, that’s where we disagree,” Ugly says, taking charge of the conversation again. “We’re gonna stop it.”

Faith laughs. “You can’t stop it,” she says. “You can’t even hurt the Mayor. He’s bulletproof.”

“But you’re not,” Ugly says. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t make any move closer to the two of them, but the atmosphere between their two groups changes nonetheless. The threat lingers in the air. For the first time, Buffy feels tendrils of worry snaking their way from Faith’s psyche to hers. “You’re his pet slayer,” Ugly says. “He needs you to help him pull it off.”

Fury is burning in Buffy’s stomach now, and she’d know it was from Faith even without seeing how Faith’s shoulders have tensed up at the word pet.

Ugly looks at Buffy. “We’re not here to fight you,” he says, sounding sincere. “I mean, eventually we will be.” He shrugs, as if saying what can ya do? “But not tonight. We’re here for her.”

Buff hears the words he doesn’t say. They’re offering her a chance to leave. All she has to do is walk away, maybe even with some allies, and the group of them is large enough to solve the problem Faith presents. She can focus on the Mayor exclusively, no more head games with Faith. No soul stealing or murder framing or finding herself shackled to walls. Another slayer will be called—maybe not of use to Buffy in this fight, but at least she won’t be actively working against her.

The other option is to stay and fight more vampires than two of them should realistically be taking on. There’s a good chance they’ll be overrun. If Buffy stays here, she may die with Faith, who Buffy very much doubts would do the same for her at this point. If they don’t die, Faith will keep working against her and she may end up costing them this fight. Strategically, removing herself from this situation makes the most sense. That’s a nice bloodless way of looking at it, but that’s never been Buffy’s forte. For better or worse, she follows her heart, and Buffy’s heart tells her she can’t leave Faith here.

There’s real fear now from Faith, layered over the anger. Was this her plan all along? Get me talking so her vamp buddies had time to roll up?

“And you think I’ll just walk away and let you kill her?” Buffy asks, trying to block out Faith’s feelings so she can think critically about the situation they’ve found themselves in.

Fuck. Faith’s thoughts are shriller now, reminding Buffy of the night they faced Kakistos. She’s gonna leave. Do I cut and run now? I can lose some of them at least.

Ugly shrugs. “If you’re smart.”

The panic Buffy’s feeling from Faith recedes, replaced by a flat kind of resignation that makes Buffy extremely nervous.

Maybe it’s better this way.

“I don’t think so,” Buffy says quickly, her voice a little louder than she means it to be.

Ugly’s surprised face looks genuine.

Buffy sees Faith’s eyes cut toward her sharply, her surprise clouding Buffy’s brain.  

“But I appreciate the offer,” Buffy says, forcing herself to look back at the vampire, “and I’d hate to kill old friends when we just got reacquainted.” She flashes a smile at Lance. “So why don’t we all just walk away?”

“That’s not gonna work for us,” Ugly says, sounding regretful. “We’re not leaving here with her still breathing.”

That at least gets Faith’s temper back up. Motherfucker. I’m gonna rip your head right off and stuff it—

“Okay,” Buffy says, squeezing her eyes shut for a second like that might cut off Faith’s thoughts. Of course it isn’t that easy, and the litany of curses coming from Faith threaten to take center stage in her brain. Buffy looks down the line of vampires. “Then you’re all gonna die tonight.” Taking a few steps to the left, Buffy moves to stand directly beside Faith, close enough that their elbows brush. “You want her? You gotta get past me too.”

At her words, Faith’s emotional rollercoaster takes a deep dive into that burning, bilious feeling Buffy recognizes from her front porch. Why would she do this? After what I did…

Shame. Buffy finally puts a name to it. It’s shame, deep in the marrow of Faith’s bones, rearing its ugly head from beneath everything else she’s feeling.

“You’re gonna risk your life for her?” Ugly asks, somewhere between disgusted and confused.

Buffy subtly frees her stake from her pocket. “Yup.”

Why?

“Why?” Ugly asks.

“She’s my friend,” Buffy says firmly and feels a rush of confusion from Faith.

“She’s trying to kill everyone in town,” Ugly says incredulously.

“Admittedly not a good move,” Buffy says, rolling her shoulders and flexing her fingers around her stake. “Still not gonna let you kill her.” She spares a quick glance at Faith, who’s staring at her with an unreadable expression. After a moment, Faith nods. Whatever happens later tonight, they’re in this together for now. Faith will have her back.

Looking back at the vampires, Buffy finds Ugly still standing there open mouthed and annoyed.

She starts jogging in place, making a show of warming her body up for the fight. “We gonna do this or not?”

“It’s your funeral,” Ugly says sourly.

Never heard that one before. How fucking original.  “You gonna talk us to death?” Faith asks. “Is that the plan?”

“You’re gonna die with my teeth in your throat,” Ugly says in a low, angry voice.

“You know, that’s the problem with guys,” Faith says conversationally. “Always overpromising and under delivering.”

Buffy half stifles her snort and feels a spark of pleasure from Faith in response.

Faith shoots a cocky grin her way, then Ugly cracks his knuckles, waves at the vamps behind him, and it’s on.

Buffy knows Faith, knows what she’ll do, how she’ll move, where her instincts will take her. She doesn’t need Faith’s voice in her head to guide her. So she doesn’t keep eyes on Faith, or even really listen to the stream of consciousness floating from her head to Buffy’s. She falls into her own rhythm, and they move in circles around each other, stabbing, kicking, jumping, slaying together like they were meant to. It feels good. It feels right, in a way that few things in Buffy’s life ever have. She finds herself grinning as she punches, the sounds of her fists connecting with cold, reanimated flesh like music to her ears.

When they’ve decimated half, they find themselves back to back. Buffy can hear Faith’s heartbeat in her ears, feel the hot rush of pride and satisfaction like a twin to her own. 

“Here,” Faith whispers from the side of her mouth, and Buffy fumbles behind herself until her fingertips brush Faith’s wrist. Some part of her recoils from it, remembering Faith’s hand holding a knife to her neck, but the greater part of her is momentarily consumed by a wave of heat coming from Faith. Buffy’s warm all over, her belly suddenly tight with anticipation. She can feel new tension between her legs. Faith wasn’t kidding about the hungry and horny thing.

It’s not that she’s never felt it herself—not that she’d ever admit that to anyone else—but it’s never been as intense as what she’s getting from Faith now. Buffy has to concentrate very hard to keep her attention on their surroundings.

The remaining vampires have put a little space between themselves and the slayers, obviously regrouping. Buffy spies Lance still among their ranks, but Heidi’s gone. Faith must have dusted her. The Ugly Pitt brother is still here, and he’s glowering at them over the heads of his remaining lackies.

Buffy gives him a sunny smile back in return, only sort of listening to the train of half formed battle plans now bubbling off Faith.

—that tree, then flip back—the tall one’s gonna be a problem—B’s faster. She can—

Fuck, she always smells so good when she’s fighting.

Buffy blinks, her concentration shattered again. Faith’s smelling her?

Bet she tastes that good too.

Blood rushes to Buffy’s head. She’s so shocked that she actually manages to block out some of Faith’s thoughts, losing a few seconds before she tunes back in.

—fuck her right here if she’d—

The vampires may be ready to rip their throats out, or they may have left altogether; Buffy has no idea. Her mouth has fallen open. Her brain is sputtering through a loop of increasingly less coherent questions: Huh? Wha…? Faith wants…? Here??

—don’t know how he can stand not being able to touch her—

If she were mine—

Buffy feels when Faith cuts that thought off, like a door slamming in the back of her mind. For a moment she feels the echo of the thought in her chest, bottoming out in her stomach and leaving her with a weird hollow feeling. In its wake, a cloud seeps over her, a dark, heavy kind of hurt that Buffy doesn’t understand. It makes her lungs ache just the same.

When Faith’s arm nudges hers again, Buffy remembers she was trying to hand her something and she manages to close her gaping mouth and reach for whatever it is. The cold kiss of steel against her fingertips brings her back to her senses. There’re still plenty of vamps left to kill. She can’t get distracted just because she’s just found out that Faith wants to—no, nope, she can’t think about that right now.

Determinedly putting it out of her mind, Buffy looks down at the knife Faith’s handed her. She’s not surprised by the item—Faith’s always been a knife girl—but she’s a little surprised by Faith sharing weapons with her. Then again, they do say the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and Faith’s nothing if not resourceful. And maybe they’re not actually enemies because Faith’s standing next to her thinking about—

Buffy’s focusing now. Getting her head in the game. Slaying isn’t something you can multitask. It needs full focus. When the Ugly Pitt leads the charge back toward them, Buffy clears her mind and leaps into the fray. Most of these vamps are inexperienced, and they’re no match for two slayers. Obviously, Ugly Pitt was relying on the strength of numbers to take Faith out.

Buffy shatters a kneecap on one of them, delivers a crushing blow to Lance’s nose that sends him howling away from her, and stakes one bumbling idiot that Faith kicks in her direction.

Nice! Faith thinks, and flashes Buffy a grin as she clotheslines the Ugly Pitt. “That all you got? Thought you came here to kill me,” she taunts him, leaping onto a tombstone and out of his grasp. I’m so hungry. Wonder if Happy Burger’s still open.

Ugly Pitt’s fast, and he’s already reaching for her, but Faith flips through the air kicking him soundly in the face on her way back to earth. She glances quickly around on landing.  Three left. Piece of cake. Her ass looks so good in those pants.

Faith’s editorializing on her clothing aside, Buffy finds the delight radiating from Faith like a soundtrack to their battle to be kind of comforting. She’s getting a little tired. Slayer strength’s better suited to sprints than marathons, but there are only a few vamps left. She’s gotta keep going.

If Faith’s tired, Buffy’s not feeling it from her. She’s practically dancing past, fighting two of them at once. Faith’s thoughts are half formed, mostly insults toward the vamps, and they run through Buffy’s mind largely unnoticed, with the occasional phrase standing out more than others.

OW—my favorite shirt! I’m going to KILL this fuck—why was she looking for me—Burger’s gonna be closed, do I still have those leftovers? 

How is this dude sweaty? Vamps don’t even—

—could make her come so hard. She’s probably never had somebody eat her—

A hard blow to her head makes Buffy see stars and blocks off Faith’s voice for a second. That’s probably for the best. How’s a girl supposed to kill the evil undead when her slaying partner is broadcasting those kinds of thoughts into her head?

Shit. Is she—she’s okay. Aaaaaand she’s pissed. You’re dust now, asshole.

Gritting her teeth, Buffy tries to get her head back in the game. The one she’s fighting is relentless, taking every punch and kick she scores with ease, and doling them back almost as fast as she can put them out.

She’s finally getting the upper hand when the ever present chatter from Faith’s head abruptly cuts off. Alarm bells start ringing through Buffy, and she ducks a right cross, shoving her opponent away from her hard to give herself a breath of space. There are only three of them left, and the other two have maneuvered Faith further away from her while Buffy’s been fighting this one.

Pain, sharp and hot, echoes in her mind, and she sees Faith stumble to her knees, gripping her shoulder. Ugly Pitt is holding a large piece of broken tombstone, obviously having just slammed it into Faith.

He smiles wickedly, raising the heavy stone again. The fear Buffy feels now is all her own. Faith’s distracted by the throbbing in her shoulder. She doesn’t see Ugly’s motion behind her. She’s recovering quickly, but it won’t be quick enough.

Breaking into a run, Buffy plucks the borrowed knife from her waistband and draws her arm back. She lets it fly just as Ugly reaches maximum height.

The blade whips through the air, end over end, in a perfect arc. It hits his wrist, blade first, with every ounce of Buffy’s slayer strength propelling it.

Ugly squeals in horror and agony as he feels the blade cut clean through his wrist. The stone drops to the ground along with his detached hand.

The remaining vamp with him is Lance, and he takes one look at Buffy charging toward them and sprints away from Faith. From behind her, Buffy hears the footfalls of the vamp she’d been fighting falter, then recede.

That leaves Ugly, and Buffy dispatches him without much effort, given that he’s still howling and staring at his hand on the ground.

Faith watches the detached hand turn to dust beside her leg. Fucking sick, she thinks appreciatively.

Leaning through the floating ash, Buffy extends her hand to Faith.

Buffy feels the way Faith’s breath stutters in her chest when she looks up at her. A tangled stream of thoughts flows through her mind, there and then gone.

Was supposed to be mine why would she so beautiful should have let them have me my town my job my girl fuck gotta stop

Faith takes her hand. “Thanks.”

The connection grows stronger when their hands clasp, and Buffy can feel a muddled kind of warmth from her as she hauls Faith to her feet. When their eyes meet, Faith’s are soft. Her face is more unguarded than Buffy’s seen in weeks, and she chances a small smile and a light squeeze of Faith’s hand.

Maybe Buffy wouldn’t recognize the empty, achy feeling that she gets back if she weren’t living it herself most days. She’s too familiar with the way it feels to want something, someone, you aren’t ever allowed to have. To feel guilty for even wanting it. To have nothing more than stolen moments and fantasies living inside your head, but let yourself pretend because it’s all you can do. Buffy does this dance with Angel. And she keeps coming back for more, no matter how much it hurts. It’s never occurred to her that Faith might be feeling that for someone.

Not someone, she corrects herself. Me. I’m the one she’s thinking about.

She should let go of Faith’s hand. Part of her wants to. Part of her feels disgusted to even be this close to the person who was ready to torture her a few weeks ago. But the rest of her is reeling from everything she’s heard from Faith tonight.

Just this morning, hearing guys at school think about her the same way Faith apparently does made Buffy’s stomach turn. She couldn’t get away fast enough. For some reason, it feels different hearing it from Faith. Buffy kind of… likes it. It’s flattering, of course. She’s never thought of herself as the kind of person someone else might fantasize about. Angel definitely hasn’t given her the impression that he spends quality time thinking about doing that with his mouth, like Faith seems to be. And unlike the guys this morning, Faith isn’t thinking about shoving her into a locker and getting whatever it is she wants. Buffy’s not just some random girl shaped person walking by and becoming the object of Faith’s pleasure. Faith’s thinking about getting Buffy off. Faith has feelings for Buffy, even, which is the biggest revelation.

Now that Buffy’s had a tiny bit of time to process, it’s not a total shock that Faith might be interested in the two of them getting physical. She’s made enough innuendos in the time that they’ve known each other. Feelings though—that’s a surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t be. Not that Buffy would ever take relationship advice from Spike, of all people, but something he said has stuck in her head. Love isn’t brains; it’s blood. You don’t choose it; you just feel it. As crazy as it sounds, thinking that Faith might love her and still make the choices she’s made, Buffy almost thinks it makes sense. Maybe real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. Maybe that’s where the fire comes from.

She’s letting the moment go on too long. An antsy feeling is starting from Faith, but Buffy still doesn’t let go. Once she does, she knows she and Faith will be enemies again. Buffy will have to go back to trying to get Faith to reveal information. She just wants to hold onto this another moment—the two of them on the same side, Buffy behind Faith’s walls with her.

Why isn’t she letting go? Faith thinks, while not pulling her hand back. Her eyes flick to Buffy’s mouth.

There’s an inquisitive feeling from Faith and a flutter of excitement in Buffy’s stomach. She’s actually not sure if that’s from her or Faith at this point.

Buffy takes a deeper breath, her lips parting slightly.

Faith’s eyes widen. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she want me to…?

Yes, Buffy thinks back, then catches herself. She drops Faith’s hand faster than she means to and takes a step back. Her stomach tightens into a knot with Faith’s disappointment and resentment.

Back to pretending she doesn’t feel it.

Buffy wants to protest, but there’s no way to do that without letting Faith know she can hear her. She tries to soften the situation. “Your shoulder okay?” Buffy asks, although she can feel perfectly well that it’s still aching.

“Five by five,” Faith says. The loss of contact has dulled Faith’s feelings a little, but the melancholy still comes through, stewing with the rest of the upset in her stomach. Could’ve been like this all the time…

Using this power with Faith is nowhere near as easy as using it to make Ms. Murray think she did the homework. She can’t directly react to anything Faith’s thinking, and Faith’s already so squirrely that one wrong word could put them back on opposite sides. Buffy gropes for the right thing to say. Historically speaking, trying to speak from the heart with Faith usually results in her attempts being rebuffed. Then again, Faith’s suspicious by nature so trying to couch her words is likely to go poorly as well.

“Thanks for the assist,” Faith says, before Buffy can pull together what she wants to say. “Figured you’d probably leave me for dead.”

Buffy shakes her head. “I wouldn’t.”

Always the good little slayer.

“I mean,” Buffy says, before Faith can respond, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Here it comes, Faith thinks sarcastically. Another big speech about actions and consequences. “I can take care of myself.”

“I just meant—”

“We pretending to be friends now, Twinkie?” Faith interrupts roughly. “I kinda thought you got the memo with the whole trying to de-soul your boyfriend and take your teeth out with pliers thing.” Outwardly, Faith looks ticked off, even a little bored, but Buffy can feel it makes her sick to her stomach just thinking about it.

“I got it,” Buffy says. “Pretty fucked up; still having nightmares. Thanks for that.”

Faith raises an appreciative eyebrow at the expletive. A ‘fuck’ from Buffy Summers. I should play the lottery. “So why are you here?” She asks.

“You said I was just like you,” Buffy says. “Maybe you were right.”

Faith’s face is stony, but Buffy can feel her curiosity.

“I do like slaying,” Buffy says, “and when I’m done I’m always hungry.”

What a cop out—

“And horny,” Buffy says, continuing on although her face is burning now. “Ever since I was called, I’ve wanted to be normal. Go to college, get married, have kids and a dog and own a silk blouse without it being destroyed by demonic goo. But that’s not me—not anymore—and when you showed up, I pushed you away because I didn’t want to admit that.”

She looks down, away from Faith’s burning gaze. She doesn’t need to see her face to know what Faith’s thinking anyway.

Wonder where she lost that stick that’s always up her ass.

Why’s she telling me all this?

“So, you were right,” Buffy says softly, “but as much as I’m like you, I think you’re like me, too.”

Faith makes a scoffing noise, first in her head, then out loud.

“This fight with the Mayor… we need you, Faith.”

Buffy knows right away she’s said the wrong thing. Faith’s mouth is a hard line and her thoughts are practically laced with disdain.

Never needed me before. Her and her little clique with their secret meetings. What’d being on their side ever get me?

Hot, ugly anger sits on Buffy’s tongue and she has to swallow down Faith’s feelings before she can speak. “I need you,” Buffy reframes it, leaving out any mention of her friends. “Everybody else, they’ll help, but they’re not like us. I need you, because like you said, people need us to survive. I think you still care about that.”

It’s hard to interpret exactly how Faith feels about what she’s saying. The anger’s gone as quick as it came, but Faith’s emotions seesaw back and forth. The longing is there—Buffy can tell Faith wants to be needed—but she’s got divided loyalties now.

He’s been good to me.

Buffy doesn’t risk saying anything else, just looks at Faith, hoping she can see the sincerity in her face.

God, those fucking eyes.

I can’t… it’s too late.

Isn’t it?

“Think about it?” Buffy asks softly. “Please.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Faith nods.

“Okay,” Buffy says, nodding back. This feels like progress, and Buffy’s about 90% sure if she stays here any longer, they’ll manage to undo even this small bit of forward momentum. “I should go, but this was…”

“Fun?” Faith suggests. It should have been like this all the time, B. Just me and you kicking ass and taking names.

“I was going to go with exhausting and terrifying,” Buffy says lightly, “but yeah. It didn’t suck.” That earns her a small smile. “I could walk you home,” Buffy suggests. “In case they regroup or there’s more of them.”

She feels a short burst of panic and remembers that Faith isn’t aware that Buffy knows her new address. “My knight in shining armor,” Faith says dryly, not betraying her feelings at all. “I’m good.”

“Right,” Buffy says. “Then I guess I’ll see you later.”

Sooner or later, Faith thinks with resignation.

Buffy hopes it’s the former. “Watch your back,” she says, taking a step away.

Faith nods agreeably. Unbeknownst to her, her feelings are broadcasting loud and clear through the telepathic link. She doesn’t want Buffy to leave.

Buffy’s already offered to walk her home and been rebuffed. There doesn’t seem to be any other reason she can come up with to stay. With a last look at Faith, she turns and starts toward the exit.

XXXXX

Faith sits on a swing in the dark park, pushing herself half heartedly while she scans her surroundings for company. Admittedly, she’s kinda hoping she’ll run into Buffy again tonight, but something interesting to slay wouldn’t be bad either. At this point, she’s been out here for hours and has yet to find either.  It’s time to pack it in and head home. She doesn’t know what she’d say to Buffy if she did run into her anyway. She’s spent the whole day thinking about it, so distracted that even the Boss noticed and asked her if she’s been taking the multivitamins he bought her, and she’s no closer to an answer.

Faith’s pretty practical, all things considered. Life isn’t like the fairy tales, and the good guys don’t always win. The Boss’s gearing up to become some mega demon, and chances are good that Buffy and all her little buds end up littered across the school lawn in tiny pieces. Why should she join them? It’s not like they’d do the same if the roles were reversed. No matter what Buffy thinks, Faith’s not really like her, with her clean hands an indefatigable moral compass. The world is a much shittier place than someone like Buffy could ever imagine, and Faith’s spent years learning how to survive it. Survival isn’t always pretty. It’s not always righteous and upstanding. Sometimes you have to fight dirty. You have to cut out the pieces of yourself that are too soft to survive. You do what it takes, whatever it takes, to keep going. Even if that makes you sick. Even if it kills you inside. Because that beats the alternative.

Still, Buffy’s words keep rattling around her brain, as much as Faith doesn’t want them to. It was those stupid, earnest eyes of hers that did it, staring at Faith like she could see right through her. As much as Faith’s telling herself to just stay the course, back the winning team, she has to admit Buffy’s gotten to her a little bit. When Buffy looks at her like that, Faith can almost believe that she’s the person Buffy seems to think she can be. She can be the type who protects people, who makes the brave choice even if it gets her killed, just because it’s the right thing to do. Buffy sees the two of them standing side by side against the impossible and beating it down with sheer stubbornness and clever puns. She doesn’t seem to think Faith’s a lost cause even after everything she’s done. That’ll change soon. If she sticks with the Mayor and helps with the ascension, that’s the end of her and Buffy, one way or another. Faith’s not sure she wants that.

Sighing, she gets up from the swing, her feet firmly back on earth. Just as she starts to walk away, a pinkish white blur runs by her, a short tail flapping awkwardly behind it. Springing into action, Faith gives chase. Whatever this thing is, it’s fast, and she struggles to keep pace with it as it streaks through the park, heading for the neighborhood to the east. Up ahead, she sees a picnic table. Faith gives it her all as they run toward it, leaping easily onto the table top and using the extra height to launch herself into the air. She soars a few feet, colliding with the demon from behind and tackling it to the ground. She expects it to feel slimy given that its body looks like torn up flesh, but it’s smooth and dry, and she keeps her hold easily. 

“Thanks for the cardio,” Faith says, reaching in her jacket for her stake. “I needed that. I’d ask if it was good for you too, but, eesh.” She makes a show of looking at the empty space where its mouth should be. 

With a shrug, she raises the stake above her head. She’s in the process of swinging it down when a dark shape darts at her left flank, smashing into her and setting the demon free. 

It’s Angel. She can sense his particular brand of vampire bullshit even before she gets a good look at him. 

“What the fuck,” Faith demands, shoving Angel off of her. She flips back to her feet, kicking his knee out when he tries to get up. Angel grunts, falling and rolling out of her kicking range before getting to his feet.

Her prey has taken this opportunity to jump to its feet and escape. Brandishing her stake with serious intent, Faith turns her attention back to Angel. The soul-stripping thing didn’t work out. Maybe it’s time to get rid of him the old fashioned way. 

To Faith’s astonishment, Angel takes off after the demon without so much as a word.

Brood Boy thinks he’s gonna steal her demon and leave her standing here with her dick in her hand? Nah. He has longer strides, but she’s got better speed, and she’s behind him in seconds. “That demon’s mine,” she says through gritted teeth, running full out to get enough speed to pass him. 

“Over my dead body,” Angel puffs back, pushing himself harder. 

“Ashes are pretty easy to get over,” Faith says and she only detects a slight wheeze in her voice, so all in all she’s doing great. 

They’re entering a residential street now, and Faith realizes she’s lost sight of the damn demon, too caught up in trying to outrun Angel. She flips the switch back to slayer mode and slows her gait to a walk, scanning the darkened yards and parked cars ahead of her. 

Angel slows too, remaining annoyingly close to her. “Faith,” he says in a serious tone. 

God, she hates the sound of his voice. How does Buffy stand it? “What?” She demands, not looking at him. This is her kill, and she’s gonna get it first. If he gets in the way… well, she’s a vampire slayer.

“You can’t kill the Slaglich.”

“That what it is?” She asks disinterestedly, slipping onto the grass where she can walk silently. 

“I need its heart,” Angel says to her back. 

Faith snorts. “You can have it once I put a stake through it.”

Angel makes a frustrated noise. 

Faith tenses as he moves around her so he’s blocking her path. Resituating her stake, she thinks about jamming the wood into his chest or maybe his stupid face. That brings a hard smile to her lips. “You get in my way, you’re gonna regret it.”

Angel looks like he’s having an internal debate with himself, all furrowed brows and squinty eyes. “It’s for Buffy,” he says finally. 

Faith can think of very few reasons Buffy would need a demon heart, and none of them seem good. In spite of herself, she feels a little bit concerned. Keeping her face composed, Faith makes a so what? expression. 

“There were two of them. Buffy killed one and she was infected by its blood. I need the heart to cure her.”

“Infected how?” Faith asks, not lowering her stake. 

He looks like he doesn’t want to tell her even this much, but Angel says, “Telepathy. It’s too much for a human to stand, and if she doesn’t get the heart, she’ll go insane.”

So, out of my way, Faith thinks, then his words sink all the way in. Buffy has telepathy. Fucking bitch, Faith thinks, the hot flush of anger creeping up her neck. She played me again. She really should have realized Buffy would have an ulterior motive in seeking her out. But she saved me. That couldn’t have been part of her plan.

“I know the last time you saw each other, things were,” Angel pauses, looking for the right word, and finishes with, “tense, but I think there’s a part of you that cares about Buffy.”

Faith stares at him, outwardly unmoved. She won’t give him the response he’s hoping for. He’s right, or at least not completely wrong, but she’ll never give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Angel and his whole ‘I know who you are deep down’ schtick have more than worn out their welcome as far as Faith’s concerned. Besides, something else he said has caught her interest. The mansion wasn’t the last time we saw each other, she thinks, feeling a little smug. Angel doesn’t know that B came to find her last night. Looks like the golden couple doesn’t share everything.

With a face of disappointment, Angel sighs. “If you won’t help me, at least stay out of my way.”

Buffy out of commission would be a big win for the Boss. Angel wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else, and Giles and the rest of them don’t have the power to present much of a challenge. All she has to do is stop Angel from getting the Slaglich. And who’s to say she couldn’t go find one when all the dust settles? Bring its heart to B then, and she’ll be cured. It’s not like she’s sentencing Buffy to death, just… prolonging her suffering for a while.

Something about that doesn’t sit exactly well though. The whole Buffy being the queen bee of Sunnydale thing aside, Faith doesn’t like the idea of some random demon managing to take Buffy out. Buffy’s a slayer. She’s saved the world at least once, and half the people in this rinky dink little town would probably be dead if it weren’t for her. There’s only one person as strong as Buffy around here, and that’s Faith. They’re the same, the only two people chosen to do this, and if Buffy’s gonna be taken out, then it’s gonna be at Faith’s hand.

Quickly scanning the darkened street in either direction, Faith finds no sign that anyone else is around to witness her decision. Satisfied, she lowers her stake and waves in the direction the demon was running.

With a curt nod, Angel takes off after it.

Faith pockets her stake, turns on her heel, and tells herself it’s time to head home. Without really understanding why, she ignores her own decision to call it a night. Instead, she trails Angel, keeping her distance and watching as he catches up to the demon and gets the upper hand. She tells herself she’s just curious about whether he manages to pull this off, but in reality, Faith finds herself watching the shadows for any signs that someone wants to interfere with Angel’s rescue mission. The majority of vamps in Sunnydale give Angel a wide berth, uninterested in messing with him even though his soul puts him at odds with them, but there are always some who feel differently. Faith’s met a few in her time with the Mayor.

There’s also the small possibility that the Boss himself was behind getting these telepathy demons here, to distract Buffy from the bigger prize. He didn’t tell her anything about it if so, but she hasn’t survived as long as she has by blindly trusting everyone she meets. She likes the Mayor. He treats her well and appreciates her work, which is more than she can say for anyone else, but that doesn’t discount the possibility of him keeping secrets from her.

The streets are quiet tonight though, and Angel makes it in the doors of Sunnydale High without incident. Faith lingers outside long enough to know he’s not coming right back out before she makes her way through town. The houses on Revello Drive are dark and sleepy, and the Summers’ house is no different. The only light is a dim glow in the window belonging to Buffy’s room. Faith stands across the street, tucked under a neighbor’s jacaranda tree, eyes on the window. She’s not sure how close Buffy has to be to her for the telepathy thing to work, but so far, there’s no sign of stirring from inside.

Faith chances a closer look, crossing the silent street and cutting across the front lawn. She lingers near the side of the porch, concentrating her senses upward. She hears two heartbeats, one a little closer than the other, but nothing else. Grasping the porch rail, she hauls herself up high enough to catch a glimpse through the living room window. Joyce is asleep on the couch, her head rolled to the side and an afghan across her legs. Even in sleep she looks worried.

Faith’s hand is on the porch post before she gets a hold of herself. What is she even doing here? Buffy can definitely still hear thoughts, and the last thing Faith needs is Buffy listening in to her brain. She doesn’t know what she might already have thought about without realizing. And she’s already done her good deed for the night by letting Angel get the demon. She shouldn’t be here. If the Boss found out… it wouldn’t look good.

Yet here she goes, easily scaling the side of the porch and hauling herself onto its roof. She keeps low, peering in Buffy’s window before she approaches it fully. Buffy’s on her back in bed, wearing pajamas so ridiculous that Faith can’t help but roll her eyes. It doesn’t look like an easy rest. Her forehead is wrinkled in dismay, and she twitches. It looks like she wants to escape something.

At least with her out of it, she won’t be trying to read Faith’s mind tonight. Faith sits down on the roof, her back to the wall, and stretches her legs out. Typically speaking, sleeping at home is relatively safe for slayers. Vamps can’t get in, and demons aren’t usually organized enough to proactively attack you. All the same, Faith has a bad feeling about this. What better time to take out a slayer than when she’s incapacitated by the demonic power that’s infected her? It’s a little unsporting, sure, but fairness is for children’s games. In the real world, your opponent’s weakness is your advantage, and sometimes you gotta play that. If word’s gotten out, it’s not out of the question for someone to make a move on Buffy tonight.

She owes Buffy one after last night, even if she did show up to gather intel. She’ll just stick around until Angel gets here and Buffy’s got what she needs. After a few minutes, she gets paranoid that someone might see her out here. She leans left, glancing in the window again. There’s no change in Buffy’s status.

The window’s cracked open already, and it makes no noise as Faith pulls the sash up. She slips over the sill and closes it part way behind her. She’s as silent as a mouse but she would still have expected Buffy to sense her and wake up. The fact that she hasn’t tells Faith all she needs to know about how severe this is.

Buffy whimpers in her sleep, and Faith finds herself moving to the side of the bed. She sits down on the edge, her hip close to Buffy’s thigh. She tells herself that it’s because there’s nothing to say Buffy won’t wake up at some point. Faith doesn’t want to look like she’s looming over her bed to kill her, at least not this time. Buffy’s hand is curled into a loose fist, periodically pressing harder into the blankets. After a moment’s hesitation, Faith lifts Buffy’s hand, holding it lightly between both of hers.

She feels ridiculous doing it, but just in case Buffy can hear her, Faith tries to think something positive in her direction. Hey, B. I’m here with you.

She winces slightly. If Buffy heard that, she’s likely to freak out even further. Hearing that the chick who wanted to torture you is sitting in your bedroom while you’re helpless probably doesn’t do a lot to soothe someone’s nerves. She tries to add something more reassuring. It’s okay, Faith thinks, watching Buffy’s face. You’re gonna be okay. I’m watching out for you until your friends get here with something to help.

To her surprise, Buffy’s hand relaxes slightly, enough that Faith can tuck her own fingers under Buffy’s and hold her hand properly. She squeezes lightly, unsure if Buffy actually heard her or not.

The telepathy thing is a new one, and Faith still can’t believe Buffy was hearing everything she was thinking last night. She should’ve known the only reason Buffy would come looking for her was if she was working some angle. Buffy’s always the dutiful little slayer.  She’ll spend time with Faith if she has to for patrol, but otherwise, Faith might as well not even exist. Even on Christmas, the one time she’d gone out of her way to invite Faith over, Buffy bailed with another Angel problem. Maybe Faith’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe she should have taken out Angel instead…

Buffy’s hand twitches in her grip, and Faith frowns. Fucking mind reading thing, she thinks, taking a deep breath and willing herself to not feel so ticked off. Looking at the obvious discomfort on Buffy’s face, Faith thinks, I’m not going to do anything to your boy. Not tonight anyway. Don’t worry. There. That pained her a little bit, but she was telling the truth. She’s not gonna mess with Angel when Buffy’s out of commission. Where’s the fun in that?

Her traitorous mind conjures up images of some other fun she’d rather be having with Buffy, and for half a second, Faith forgets the circumstances and goes with it. Then reality slams into her. Fuck. Shit! She panics, desperately trying to think of something, anything, else she can to keep herself, and by extension, Buffy, from thinking about that. Music! She thinks, mentally patting herself on the back. Yeah, she’ll just sing something in her head until she distracts herself. 

God, her skin is so soft... Fucking fuck. Music, now.

She means to think of something cool. Babes in Toyland or Mudhoney or Converge, but what enters her mind are the melancholy notes of a penny whistle. Faith goggles in horror at her own brain as the whistle is joined by words.

Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you.

Please let Buffy be too out of it to hear this, Faith thinks, as Céline Dion continues her soft crooning. Near, far, wherever you are. I believe that the heart does go on. Otherwise she’ll never live this down.

XXXXX

Buffy’s in pure darkness, being slowly crushed on all sides by an invisible force. Some part of her realizes that she’s dreaming and these are the thoughts of everyone in the vicinity invading her brain from all sides, but her survival instincts have activated. She kicks and punches and shoves, trying to make space for herself as the voices cluster and push and yell.

Come on, Ump! This guy is a freaking Is he having an affair? Does he still love me? Love them but sometimes I wish we never had I knew that sleazebag was lying! ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman’ my ass did I remember to pick up detergent Miss her so much, I don’t know if I where’s my other shoe? We’re gonna be late again Really about Dave Coulier? Somebody went down on that guy in a theater and I can’t get a date to Please be negative! How am I gonna tell my Solve for X? I’m gonna fail Maybe we should wait… but I’ll still technically be a virgin Drop Jess off for practice, swing by the grocery store, pizza for dinner, let Jay deal with the kids and I’ll be in the bath by 9 Stage IV, oh God I can’t do this

You're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on

The darkness rolls back like fog, leaving Buffy’s feet firm on a long, open-air deck. She sucks in the sea air greedily, feeling like she can finally catch a moment’s respite.

Can’t believe I went to see that damn movie twice and now this stupid song is stuck in my head. Three hours long, you already know how it’s gonna end, but everybody and their mother went to see it. The drawing scene though—almost worth it. Dude was slick, getting her naked so he could draw her. Wonder if Buffy would—god damn it.

Neeeeeeeear, farrrrrrrr, wherever you are!

Faith’s voice is so clear that Buffy glances around automatically, expecting to find her singing somewhere nearby. The deck is filled with people rushing back and forth, going in and out of doors. They’re all dressed in early 1900s garb, their faces devoid of features. It’s silent right now other than Faith’s voice, but she’s nowhere in sight. Unnerved, Buffy turns, looking between the walking figures. She has to be here.

Hey. Hey, it’s okay, B. It’s okay. Try to relax.

That’s definitely Faith. Her words are meant to be soothing, but they’re accompanied by a jittery, nervous feeling that does nothing to calm Buffy down. Worry gnaws at her stomach, hers or Faith’s, she’s not sure. The music, at least, is soft and slow, and seems to be forming some kind of barrier around her. No one comes within a few feet of her, although some of them try and are bumped in opposing directions as if walking into an invisible shield.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Buffy presses her back to the cold metal railing along the deck. She feels the ghost of a caress on the back of her hand and concentrates on that, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

That’s good. Just relax. It’ll be over soon, promise. Wes and Giles are—well, Giles is definitely working on it. Don’t know what Wesley’s contributing, to be honest. Probably supervising and having a really stiff upper lip about you being out of commission. He’s so fucking uptight. You think he’s gotten laid, like even once? My money’s on no. Looks like he irons his underwear.

Buffy feels her mouth curling into a smile.

I’ve been meaning to ask you, where do you get your pajamas? Is there a store you go to that just has the most ridiculous pajama sets in the world? Do you wear these in the summer? What is this, flannel? If you can hear me, I’m serious. I wanna know when you wake up where you find this stuff.

Her voice in Buffy’s head is teasing and light.

Nah, for real, not sure I can pull off the head to toe cow print, but they’re cute on you.

The worry in her stomach eases a bit, making room for something warm and soft.

Everything’s cute on her. Never seen anything so beau—fuck. You’re heeeeeeeeere, there’s nooooooooothing I fear!

Jesus fuck, this is humiliating.

…Wonder if B likes Titanic.

B, weigh in on this. Would Jack have lived if Rose shoved over a little and he was on the door with her? Do you think we would’ve survived the Titanic? Does it take longer for a slayer to get hypothermia?

Do you huddle naked together for body heat even if you’re on a raft in the ocean? Would you have—

We’d have survived, I think. You’d be a first class girl, and I’d be down in steerage, but I can see you running through the ship ripping the gates down for everyone trapped behind them. You wouldn’t leave anyone behind, not even me. Even if you went down with the ship. Even if some people deserve to go down with the ship.

You should’ve left me last night, Buffy. Why didn’t you just go?

XXXXX

Faith spends hours repeating that cycle. When Buffy shudders or cries out, Faith squeezes her hand and tries to think something reassuring at her. She’s not sure how good she is at it, with their history, but she tries. She can only sit there looking at Buffy’s face for so long before her thoughts eventually drift in ways she doesn’t want Buffy to witness. Faith runs through a host of truly humiliating pop ballads before she finally moves on to Cypress Hill, which isn’t cool per se, but is at least slightly less embarrassing. Plus, “Insane in the Brain?” Apt. Buffy doesn’t seem to appreciate the humor, if the way she winces and twitches is any indication. Figures she isn’t into that. Faith digs deep for something a little softer and comes up with some older Hole. Not the bullshit they’re putting out now for the masses, but something with a little more edge. Buffy seems to like it okay. She’s quiet again, her hand more relaxed in Faith’s.

By the time the sky’s turning a bruised purple, warning of the oncoming sun, there’s still been no sign of Angel. Faith’s sitting on the floor of Buffy’s room, her back against the side of the bed. Buffy’s curled into a ball behind her, the rustling of bedding accompanying her frequent tossing and turning. She has yet to wake up.  

The sound of a car pulling up outside catches her attention. Three doors open and slam closed. Standing, Faith carefully peers from behind the curtains. The cavalry has finally arrived.

She goes back to Buffy’s side. They’re here, she thinks. You’re gonna be okay now. Swallowing a sudden reluctance to go, Faith leans down and lightly presses her lips to Buffy’s forehead.

Downstairs, the front door opens. Faith strides to Buffy’s bedroom window and slips through, jumping soundlessly off the porch roof and onto the soft ground.

XXXXX

Buffy’s standing in the middle of the mall, people surrounding her on all sides, talking, always talking.

That toupee looks like an animal died up there. I can’t tell him Can’t believe she asked me for my brownie recipe! She knows it was I love you, Mittens, you’re the only good thing in my life What is that, her fifth bottle this week? Call in sick tomorrow if I don’t Gotta talk to Doc about this insomnia

Please don’t let us be too late Hang on, honey If this kid doesn’t start getting himself up for school I swear to God It would be most inconvenient for the slayer to die so close to the My baby I hate this, I hate it so much Buffy, can you hear me? We need you to

She has her hands over her ears, elbows out and sharp as if she can stop the barrage of thoughts. People walk through her elbows, smashing against her sides as they pace the mall in long strides. Suddenly, there’s a weird space of absolute silence. She watches in concern as the crowd parts for the shape to pass through. Taking a tentative step backward, Buffy shakes her head. No, no, that’s not good. But the crowd won’t move for her, and she’s blocked on all sides by shouting, whispering, laughing, crying people.

“Buffy!” The silence touches her, a cold grip on each of her arms.

Her senses frantically try to make sense of this, but all she can come up with is fear. Not human, her slayer senses report in flashing neon lights. NOT HUMAN.

“Buffy!”

“No!” She strikes out, blinking at the feeling of her fist hitting something malleable. The mall fades and she’s in her bedroom, but she can’t focus. The voices overlap until they’re gibberish. The silence approaches her again, and Buffy is moving. In the teeming throng of thoughts in her head, one of her own rises: Escape.

XXXXX

Faith’s two houses away when she hears yelling from behind her. Stopping, she glances over her shoulder in time to see Buffy burst through her bedroom window, still clad in her cow pajamas, run down the roof, and leap off the side. She catches a branch and jumps to the ground unhurt, immediately breaking into a run.

On the roof, Angel starts to climb out after her. By now, the first morning rays have begun to touch the porch, and he immediately hisses, ducking back inside with a cloud of smoke behind him.

Faith looks back in the direction she was going, toward home, and thinks about it for a moment. It’s daytime; Buffy will be fine, most likely, other than the being driven insane thing, but that definitely seems like it could keep until Giles tracks her down. This isn’t Faith’s problem. She’s done more than she needed to already.

She’s already turned back to look at Buffy’s house. By the time Giles throws open the front door, glowing blue liquid in a bottle clutched in his hand, she’s half way across the front lawn.

When he spots her, Giles’s expression goes from dismay to alarm. He quickly schools his features into a look of calm, tucking the bottle behind his body.

“Morning,” Faith says with false cheer, reaching the bottom step of the porch.

From the recesses of the front hallway, Angel glowers out at her.

“What are you doing here?” Giles asks, his voice flat and unhappy.

“Can’t a girl drop by to see old friends?” Faith asks, setting her hand on the pillar lining the stairs.

“You’ve made it clear you’re not interested in friendship,” Wesley sniffs from just inside the door.

Faith’s eyes cut to Giles, who’s watching her closely. “Give me the bottle,” she says, ignoring Wesley.

“No,” Giles says, drawing his shoulders back. She’s gotta hand it to the guy, they both know she can overpower him easily, but he’s still out here facing her. “This has nothing to do with your new master’s plans, so there’s no reason for you to get involved.”

Faith chafes at his words, but she doesn’t allow him to see it. “I know what it is,” she says, glancing at Angel. “The heart you need to cure Buffy’s pesky telepathy problem, right?”

Wesley’s mouth falls open, and he shoots a betrayed look at Angel. “You told her?”

Gritting his teeth, Angel says, “Would you rather I let her slay the thing? We needed the heart torn out still beating.”

“Wicked gross,” Faith says, wrinkling her nose. “Now that we’re all caught up, do you want my help or not?”

“Like we’d fall for—”

“Why would you help us?” Giles asks, cutting Wesley off without so much as a backward glance.

“Not really feeling the need to explain myself to you, G,” Faith says, crossing her arms and leaning casually against the pillar. “Ain’t like you’re my watcher or anything.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Joyce Summers comes storming through the front door, stopping at Giles’s side. “Buffy’s out there, confused, in pain, who knows what else and you’re—you’re just standing here having a pissing contest!”

Giles looks as chagrined as Faith immediately feels.

“If Faith wants to help Buffy, give her the heart,” Joyce orders Giles, before turning to Faith with a look that’s half fury and half fear. “And if you’re just here to play games, then get the hell out of my way. I’ll take the heart to her myself.”

Faith stands up straight, dropping the smirk she’s pasted on for the watchers and Angel. “I want to help.”

Giles stares at her intently for another second, then he presses his lips into a thin line and holds out the bottle.

“We’re just going to assume she’s sincere?” Wesley demands, as Faith steps forward and takes the bottle gingerly in her hands.

“We don’t have a lot of options right now,” Giles says, his eyes still boring into Faith’s.

Faith nods at him, then Joyce, and turns on her heel, bounding down the walkway.

“Faith!” Giles calls again.

She’s reluctant to pause even a moment to look back, but she does.

“She’ll want to be as far away from people as she can be,” he says.

Faith nods. Then she takes off in the same direction Buffy disappeared.

XXXXX

Buffy fled North, so Faith starts in that direction, keeping Giles’s words in mind. She has little else to go on within the town limits. Buffy’s barefoot; there’s plenty of paved ground; it doesn’t make for the best tracking situation. But if she wants to be away from people, there are two major wooded areas to choose from. She’s going away from Miller’s Woods, so that leaves Breaker’s Woods. Unless she’s gone west toward the ocean, but the woods probably provide more space from other people. Faith follows her instincts and keeps moving North.

The forest up here is pretty expansive, but it rained a few days before, and even an inexperienced tracker like her can pick up faint impressions of human feet in the softened ground. Still, it takes the better part of the morning to catch up to Buffy. By then, Faith’s seriously regretting wearing boots instead of sneakers on patrol last night. Buffy made it all this way in bare feet; maybe Faith should’ve tried the same.

Buffy’s trail leads her to the mouth of a cave, and Faith hesitates at the entrance. There’s no telling how large this system is, and she doesn’t have a flashlight. Even enhanced sight will be no match if she goes too far in. And people die wandering around caves. Maybe not, like, a lot of them, but some. Glancing down at the bottle in her hand, she steels her nerves. It’s not like there’s another option right now; Buffy needs to be found. Faith’s the only one who can do it, so she steps inside the cave.

The temperature is already a few degrees cooler, and she’s barely a few feet in. Once her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Faith sees that she was worried for nothing. Buffy is huddled along the back wall, partially hidden behind a jutting rock formation. Her knees are tucked into her chest, her hands on either side of her head to cover her ears.

“Hey,” Faith says softly. When that gets no reaction, she walks a little further in and tries to think really loudly. Buffy.

She sees Buffy’s head jerk and takes that as acknowledgement.

I brought that medicine for you. Everything’s gonna be okay. You just need to drink it.

Buffy whimpers, pressing her hands harder against her ears.

Cautiously, Faith approaches the rest of the way. She sets the bottle down on the opposite side of the rock, where it won’t be knocked over if this gets physical. It’s okay. Just let me help you.

She puts her hands over Buffy’s, gently grasping them and trying to pull them away from her head. To her surprise, Buffy not only allows her hands to be moved but opens her eyes. She seems to focus on Faith for a second, then she all but launches herself forward.

Faith’s adrenaline spikes, expecting an attack. She’s too close to Buffy to fully evade her, but maybe she can—

Buffy wraps her arms around Faith’s neck, plastering herself against her.

“Oh,” Faith says stupidly, her body pivoting from attack mode to something no more relaxed. She doesn’t mean to notice the way Buffy’s boobs are crushed against hers, but she’s half on top of Faith, and she can’t help it. Buffy’s hand is under her hair, fingertips against the back of her neck. Her face is tucked against Faith’s shoulder, hot, uneven breath against Faith’s throat. It sets off a domino effect, her body flooding with want, hot and fast, and her brain lapsing into occasional sparks of yes and mine and want you want you want you.

With Herculean effort, she gets control of herself. Obviously Buffy is looking for comfort or something, but it’s too much like what Faith really wants, Buffy holding on like she can’t get enough. She needs to move away. She can’t think about this right now. Her hands find Buffy’s waist gingerly, intending to push her back, but Buffy makes a noise of protest and shakes her head against Faith’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” she rasps in a pained voice, the first word Faith’s heard her speak in all this time. “Please… if we’re touching, you’re louder and everything else is quieter.”

Resentment douses the embers of heat in Faith’s stomach immediately. She only ever wants me close when she needs something. Thinks she’s entitled to my fucking mind if it helps her?

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says again, the words slow like she can barely work her tongue around the letters.

Faith thinks about pushing her off anyway. Maybe even leaving the cave. She brought the fucking cure. Buffy can take it or not. Her debt is repaid. With Buffy still clinging to her though, Faith can’t quite make herself do it. She needs me. Instead, she puts her arms around Buffy’s back, and when Buffy relaxes against her with a sound of relief, Faith sternly tells herself that she isn’t enjoying this.

Better?

“Skin,” Buffy whispers against Faith’s collar.

Jesus, Faith thinks, resolutely not thinking about peeling Buffy’s clothes off. “Yeah. Okay.” She releases Buffy for a second, ignoring the ensuing whimper, and manages to maneuver her jacket down with considerable effort, given that Buffy’s still hanging onto her.

After shaking the jacket off, she tugs Buffy’s arm from around her neck and guides her hand to the bare skin of Faith’s arm. That sorted, she moves one hand down, finding the bottom of Buffy’s pajama top. When Buffy doesn’t make a peep, she slides her hand underneath to rest on the small of Buffy’s back.

It’s strange, touching Buffy like this, when the most contact they’ve had outside of sparring or fighting has been high fives. Her heart is pounding harder than it should be, and her stomach is in knots. Tentatively, she tilts her head toward Buffy’s, letting her cheek brush the crown of Buffy’s head.

“Good?” Faith asks.

Buffy nods.

Faith endures this for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a few minutes, trying to keep her thoughts on something neutral. They gallop off wildly in all directions, but keep wanting to center in on the obvious, that Buffy’s touching her, she’s touching Buffy, they’re holding each other. It’s so easy to love Buffy when she’s like this, helpless and soft, needing Faith like she never has before. It’s so hard to not let herself feel that, but she has to try.

Best names for a dog: Charlie, Jasper, Murphy. Are people still going to party like it’s 1999 after this year? Are we getting a new party song? I gotta get this potion shit into her, I can’t keep—Really wanna see Idle Hands. I should check if it’s still out.

She’s so soft. Wish we were doing this for some other reason. Would she do this for me, if I just walked up and said I needed her? Hope the boss hasn’t been looking for me. Where am I gonna say I—think about something else. Think about anything else.

You know we’re not making a habit of this, right? Rescuing each other? You don’t get to just ignore me and pick me up when you feel like it.

But I can’t let you—I won’t let—

Buffy squeezes her shoulder. Whether that’s an acknowledgement, an apology, or something else, Faith doesn’t know. She changes the subject.

My kindergarten teacher was Miss Sykes. First grade was Mrs. Salem. A real bitch. Not a heart for children, as they say. Second grade was cool. Ms. Parisi always brought extra snacks and gave them to me. That was about the time dear old mom fell off the wagon for good. Third grade Mrs. MacMillan. Fourth Ms. Hopper.

Can’t remember the last time anybody touched me this long when we weren’t doing the deed. Not that I’d complain if she wanted—Fifth grade! Mr. Jensen. Weird dude. Very into geography. Not a passion I picked up.

B, you need to drink this shit.

Against her collarbone, Faith feels Buffy nod minutely.

“You gotta let go so I can grab it,” Faith says out loud. The bottle is a few feet away.

Buffy nods again but doesn’t loosen her grip.

“Here,” Faith says, retracting her hand from Buffy’s back. She touches her arm, offering her hand to grab.

XXXXX

Buffy clings to Faith’s hand. Just minimizing their contact to hands is enough to increase the fervor of the other voices in her head. It feels like everyone in Sunnydale is in her brain, and she can barely distinguish their voices as they all think over each other.

We’re going to St. Barts for Christmas this year, I’m not who the fuck cares about Alfred J. Prufrock? So boring Another 10 minutes until She doesn’t even know I’m alive killing me with this orange juice with one sip left back in the

Then Faith is back, her other arm snaking around Buffy’s waist, rucking her pajama top up so her forearm can touch Buffy’s hip. Buffy grabs for her, getting her free hand on Faith’s shoulder and tucking her face into Faith’s neck.

Immediately she feels a flicker of excitement from Faith. Some small logical part of Buffy’s brain knows that being all over Faith like this isn’t the best idea. Faith has feelings for her, and this isn’t doing anything to dissuade her of those. But it’s the only thing that helps right now. 

Like before, Faith’s feelings take center stage in her brain. She likes being close to Buffy, her breath immediately quickening, but she’s embarrassed by that too. Worry sits like a stone in Faith’s belly, and Buffy feels it in hers too. She’s worried about Buffy, but also worried about what she might allow Buffy to overhear in her mind.

Faith sets the bottle down for a second, letting her empty hand settle under the back of Buffy’s shirt again. Her touch is hesitant, slow to come, as though she’s afraid Buffy might shove her away.

Far from shoving her away, Buffy wishes there was a way to get closer. The other voices have faded with proximity to Faith, but not quite as much as before. It’s getting worse. Her palm flattens on the curve of Faith’s shoulder, fingers worming under the straps of her bra and tank top to be flush with the skin of her back. 

There’s heat, low in her belly, an unmistakable feeling of arousal. Just as quickly, the feeling turns to guilt. She’s in pain. I shouldn’t be thinking about—

“You can hear that many people all the way out here?” Faith asks, sounding concerned.

Buffy nods.

This is gonna help. Looks wicked gross but uh, just pretend it’s Gatorade or something. The blue kind.

Faith awkwardly uncorks the bottle, using one hand and keeping her arm against Buffy’s side as much as possible.

It physically hurts her head to release Faith’s hand and grasp the bottle. Faith puts her hand around Buffy’s, helping her lift it to her lips. Buffy’s not sure what she expected demon heart to taste like, but it’s more horrible than she could have imagined: coppery and slimy, with a faint saltiness to it. She gags, but Faith doesn’t let her lower the bottle.

Gotta do the whole thing. Come on, B. You got this. Just try not to inhale.

Buffy tries that, and it makes it only marginally better. She chugs the last three sips, making a disgusted noise as she finally lowers the empty bottle.

Faith sets it aside and puts both arms around Buffy, one under her collar, the other back under her shirt. That’s good, she thinks, massaging the back of Buffy’s neck gently. You’re gonna feel better now.

G better be right about this. I don’t know what else to do for her.

Faith’s voice is still the strongest thing she hears, but a few others are threatening to crowd her out. There seems to be a group nearby hiking, and their running mental commentary on the flora in Breaker’s Woods is growing louder. Squeezing her eyes closed, Buffy presses closer to Faith, laying her palm on her chest, above her tank.

Faith twitches, her surprise coming through loud and clear. Buffy has to swallow around the sudden fullness in Faith’s throat. wantyousomuch—I got you. You’re okay. Her voice in Buffy’s head sounds strained. How much will power am I supposed to have? Jesus.

Buffy doesn’t realize she’s started shaking violently. She does hear Faith’s voice, out loud this time, calling her name, but when she tries to respond, she finds she’s pleasantly numb and can’t get her mouth to move.

Buffy? Buffy! Faith echoes desperately in her mind, then everything goes black.

XXXXX

She’s floating in a hazy gray space, passing through words and thoughts like they’re clouds. They’re no longer pushing up against her, bruising and squeezing her, but formless… harmless. The din grows a little softer as she passes through each one. Buffy has the thought that this might be related to the demon heart she consumed, but before she can really focus on it, the thought slips away. She keeps floating, gradually being able to distinguish some specific thoughts from the masses.

Is that a matilija poppy? Oh! So pretty! Everyone loves the California poppy but I think Are we going to stop for lunch soon? I’m starving If I have to look at one more native plant I’m gonna snap Never knew these trails were here, we need to get

The relaxed detachment she’s feeling eventually gives way to a gnawing sensation of concern. It’s in her stomach and her lungs, making her fingertips cold and her shoulders tight. Something’s very wrong and someone’s very worried about it. One voice comes to the forefront as all the others peel away.

Giles picked a fucking great first time to get something wrong. This is killing her. Is this killing her? She’s so pale. Her heart’s still beating. If she dies, they’ll all think I did it. If she dies, I’ll… She can’t. Not without knowing that I—

I waited too long to give it to her. Took too long to find her. If she dies, it’s on me.

Her stomach churns with borrowed self loathing.

My fault my fault again just like last time. It doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing goes right. I’m just sinking more and more every day and no one—no. No. Not thinking about that. Not thinking about it. Think about Buffy. She needs me.

Don’t die, B. Buffy. If you can hear me, don’t die. You were right. About me, about everything. I wanted you to need me. I wanted us to be—I don’t know, close, I guess. But when you tried, I pushed you away. I know I did. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry for everything.

Just please don’t die. 

Her eyes flutter open slowly, and Buffy is surprised to find herself in a dimly lit cave. How did she get here? The mouth of the cave provides a glimpse of the world outside, densely packed with trees. Sun filters between them, bright and strong. It’s early afternoon, she thinks. Her butt is half asleep where it’s resting on the hard ground. Her head is being cushioned from the ground by a strong thigh, and there’s a slim arm across her torso. She remembers now. Faith followed her here, fed her that whatever it was. Faith was in her room last night, too.

Glancing upward, she sees Faith resting with her head against the cave wall, her eyes closed and face tense. Dried tear tracks are obvious on her cheeks. The telepathy is gone, but it doesn’t take demonic powers to know how Faith must be feeling. She looks wrung out and exhausted. She watches Faith for another moment, mentally sifting through all the information she’s gathered over the past few days. The fear Faith was feeling was definitely real. And she spent the whole night and this morning with Buffy, looking after her. The same person who a few weeks ago seemed like she’d gladly introduce Buffy’s internal organs to some fresh air let Buffy cling to her like a life raft in a shipwreck. Going from mortal enemies to cuddle buddies is starting to become an uncomfortable pattern in Buffy’s life.

She doesn’t know what to make of all this or how to feel about it. Buffy’s only certain of one thing: they can’t go back. She can’t let Faith walk out of here and back to the Mayor’s side. They can’t be enemies again, not after Buffy’s felt Faith’s shame and fear. Not now that she knows Faith kind of loves her. This is a chance for them to start over. Buffy’s in a different place now than she was when Faith first came to Sunnydale. She can’t give her everything Faith obviously wants, but she can give her the connection and friendship she was looking for. Maybe that’s enough.

Buffy brings her hand to rest atop Faith’s arm, and Faith’s eyes snap open in surprise. “You’re awake,” she says, sitting up straighter.  She wipes her free hand quickly across her face. “Are you okay? Did it work?”

“It worked,” Buffy says. “No one in my head except for me.”

Faith looks relieved, and Buffy’s not surprised. It can’t have been easy for Faith to stay with her knowing Buffy could hear everything she was thinking. Buffy tries to come up with the right words to acknowledge how much Faith gave her last night, but her brain still feels a little like it ran through the blender. Neither of them has moved, and she’s still lying with her head in Faith’s lap. Without the intrusion of telepathy, there’s no reason for her to be this close to Faith, but something still keeps her in place. Maybe it’s the fact that Faith hasn’t made any move to push her off. Buffy’s back in her right mind, but Faith’s still got an arm draped around her. “Thanks for taking care of me,” Buffy finally says, looking up at her. It’s not enough, but it’s all she’s come up with, and it’s starting to feel weird that she isn’t talking.

Faith shrugs. “I owed you one.”

“You babysat me all night and followed me into a cave in… wherever we are. I think I owe you again now.”

“Call it even,” Faith says. Her eyes skip away from Buffy’s, and she asks, “You remember much?”

“It’s kind of a blur,” Buffy says, honestly. Her brain feels a bit like mush. She remembers enough to know why Faith’s asking though. Of everything she heard, Faith’s voice was the strongest, and hers were the only emotions that Buffy could feel as if they were her own. It would be hard to forget hearing Faith think about sleeping with her, and harder still to forget the longing she felt coming from Faith when they were together.

Another critical piece of information comes back: the voice at school yesterday. This time tomorrow, I'll kill you all.

Damn it.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy pulls herself into a sitting position. Faith’s hand finds her back, steadying her as she sits up. Wincing, Buffy rolls her shoulders out and turns to face Faith. She’s still holding on to her arm, keeping it half wrapped around her. “I remember you were there for me,” she says softly, waiting for Faith to look at her.

When she finally does, Faith’s face is carefully composed. They’re still too close together, Buffy’s hip against Faith’s thigh, Faith’s arm across Buffy’s legs.

“I remember you told me not to die,” Buffy adds, “and you said you were sorry.”

The corner of Faith’s mouth turns down a little, and she nods.

“I have to go,” Buffy says, and Faith nods again, her face showing no sign of surprise. “I don’t want to, but someone’s planning to murder the student body, so I kind of have to.”

“Right,” Faith says, her voice deliberately unbothered, “yeah.”

“Can we talk later?” Buffy tentatively lets her hand rest on Faith’s, squeezing. “Tonight?”

Faith’s gaze sharpens for a second, and she stares at Buffy a moment too long before she nods.

Satisfied, Buffy shakily climbs to her feet with Faith’s help. She holds onto Faith’s hand as long as she justifiably can, finally letting go when she’s standing on her own two feet. It feels almost strange to not be touching Faith now, after everything they’ve been through today.

Faith stoops down and snags her jacket from the ground, holding it out to Buffy.

Giving her a confused look, Buffy takes it.

“If you’re going to school, you might want to try to blend in a little better,” Faith says, gesturing at Buffy’s cow print pajamas.

“Right,” Buffy says. “Good point.” She slides her arms into the denim and shrugs it on. She’s still barefoot and likely to cause an obvious spectacle as she crosses town, but it’s unavoidable. At least she has some training clothes stashed in the library.

Beside her, Faith has shoved her hands awkwardly in her jeans pockets.

Knowing she can’t afford to waste any more time, Buffy quickly steps closer and hugs her. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “I’ll see you tonight.” She releases Faith before she even gets her hands free. Giving her a final look, Buffy walks out into the sunshine, setting her sights on the work she has to do.

XXXXX

It’s been one hell of a day. She’s consumed the heart of a demon, talked Jonathan down from committing suicide, and stopped Doris the lunch lady from poisoning the entire student body. Xander’s been walking on air about how right he was about Doris, and not even Giles’s muttered ‘unseemly’ has been able to bring his mood down. It takes hours for the police to talk to everyone in the cafeteria, and then they’re dismissed one by one. Rather than displaying any kind of normal human emotion about the fact that one of his employees tried to commit mass murder, Principal Snyder watches each student menacingly to make sure they actually leave the building.

When it’s her turn, Buffy fills the cops in on how she stopped Doris (“Jiu-Jitsu classes!”), then makes her escape, circling the school and climbing back in through one of the library windows. For once, Wesley is nowhere to be found, and Buffy and Giles sit in his office, a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them. Buffy still hasn’t developed a taste for tea, but she doesn’t mention it.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Giles asks, concerned. “Faith said she wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe her.” His gaze is questioning, obviously expecting some kind of explanation from Buffy for Faith’s about-face.

The long answer is one Buffy has no intention of sharing. She says, “I think she cares more than she lets on. She was worried about me. I could feel it.”

“Do you mean that literally?” Giles asks.

Buffy nods. “It only happened with her, but yeah. I could feel what she was feeling.” She cradles the mug in her hands and takes a small sip. “She’s sorry, Giles.”

Giles frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m worried about her.”

“You mean her being in league with the Mayor?”

Buffy shakes her head. “That, sure, but she’s in a dark place. I don’t think she cares if she lives or dies.”

He looks troubled by that. “Do you think she’ll let us help her?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admits. “I’m going to see her tonight. She said we could talk.”

“You’ll let me know what you think?”

“I will,” Buffy says, getting to her feet. “I need to check in on Angel. He’s probably worried about me.”

XXXXX

Buffy eats dinner at home, her shoulder pressed to her mother’s on the couch as they eat Chinese takeout. She doesn’t need telepathy to know Joyce hasn’t been able to move past the fear she felt watching Buffy so helpless and sick. They watch a few reruns together, folding clean laundry and laughing at Lucy and Ethel’s schemes. Buffy brings the clean basket upstairs with her when she goes to get dressed for patrol.

The energy in her room feels strange when Buffy opens the door. There’s a charged feeling in the air, like the absence of something that was just there. She pauses in the doorway, scanning her room for any signs of disturbance. She catches sight of it on her second sweep: a folded piece of paper on her pillow, white against the rumpled white sheets of her unmade bed.

Buffy crosses the room slowly, dread already filling her chest. It’s been more than a year since Angelus left drawings in hers and her friends’ beds, but the memory is still fresh. She knows this won’t be that, but at the same time, she senses it won’t be good. Sitting lightly on the edge of her bed, she reaches for the paper. It’s lined paper, torn from a notebook, with just a few words written in an inelegant, stilted hand.

Talk to Lester Worth

I’m sorry

When she gets to Faith’s apartment, the lights are off and the door is unlocked. Buffy goes in, standing in the darkened living room for a moment before she moves to the alcove with the bed. The bed is neatly made; the dresser drawers empty. The few magazines stacked on the side table are the only things in this entire place that feel like Faith. Buffy knew it already, but she hoped it wasn’t true; Faith is gone.

Faith is gone, and the disappointment and hurt are so deep that Buffy has to take a moment to steady herself against the bed. She lets herself feel it, for just a few seconds, before she stands up straight again and squares her shoulders. Faith’s made her decision, and Buffy doesn’t have time to fall apart about it, at least not right now. She closes the door softly when she goes, off to find a pay phone and fill Giles in on the clue Faith left behind.