OCTOBER 22nd 

At first the thumping is easy to ignore. It’s soft and sporadic. Faith thinks, fucking old plumbing, and goes back to eating her gyro. On the opposite end of the couch, Buffy has her socked feet tucked under her legs and she’s using her lap as a table. She doesn’t seem bothered by the noise, so Faith turns up the volume on the TV slightly and puts it out of her mind. On screen, Cape Fear is reaching its conclusion. Just as Max Cady begins to sing about the stormy banks of the Jordan, Faith hears a distinctive thunk. Frowning, she sets her gyro on her plate and looks around. Buffy’s still engrossed in the movie, so Faith gets to her feet alone. 

As she pads out of the living room, Faith follows the quickening sounds of thumping that seems to be emanating from the bathroom. She keeps close to the wall as she moves toward the partially open door. Thump. The sound has a strange thickness to it, like it’s muffled somehow. With the door just ahead, Faith finds her skin prickling with sudden trepidation. She glances behind her, where the noise of the movie is still coming from the living room. Maybe she should go back and get Buffy. 

The next noise is so loud that the walls rattle. THUMP.

Squaring her shoulders, Faith pushes open the door. The bathroom floor tile feels frigid beneath her feet as she slowly enters the room. There’s nothing immediately out of place, but at the next thunk, the shower curtain trembles. The cold from the floor seems to seep up her legs as Faith reaches for the curtain. Gripping the fabric, she pulls it aside and looks inside. 

The bathtub is half filled with unsettled water. Small residual waves spread away from the center of the tub, where a large box rests underwater. Faith stares at in confusion for a moment, her eyes cataloging its strangeness. It’s metal, with flaking bits of rust littering the floor of the tub around it. She has no idea what it is or how it got here. As she watches, the box jumps slightly from the floor. Thump. The water around it reverberates, splashing against the sides of the tub. 

Before her eyes, the box begins to shake more rapidly. Thump thump THUMP. The water rises around it, climbing the walls of the tub until it reaches the lip and begins spilling over. 

Backing up, Faith gropes for the door frame and pulls herself back into the hallway. Under her feet, the floor feels oddly soft, and Faith looks down to see worn floorboards, rotted in places. The sound of water splashing on tile is louder now. 

“B?” Faith calls, turning away from the bathroom. She hurries back down the hall, avoiding the center of the floor where the rot seems worse. In the living room, the credits roll on the movie. Their plates are discarded on the coffee table. Buffy’s shoes are neatly arranged next to Faith’s beside the front door, but she’s nowhere to be seen. “Buffy?” Faith tries again, sudden fear making her throat feel thick.

thumpthumpthump

When there’s no response, Faith turns back to the hall. She’ll have to deal with the bathroom herself. Wet footprints create a stripe down the hallway, disappearing in the direction of the bathroom. Faith stares at them a moment, unnerved. They’re not hers, but there’s no way anyone else could have passed by her. 

From inside the bathroom, Faith hears a barely audible call. “Help!”

Her heart pounds harder. That isn’t Buffy’s voice, and they’re the only two in the apartment. 

The thumping from the bathroom is getting louder and louder, and Faith makes her way to the door. The walls are wet now as she hugs them, cold dampness soaking through her clothing and onto her skin. Water licks its way into the hallway, its movement deceptively gentle when compared to the aural assault of the persistent noise.

thumpthumpTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

She reaches for the door, her whole body cold now. The wood frame splinters under her fingers, rotted through and then—  

Faith’s eyes snap open, her hand snagging the blanket draped over her. The living room is bathed in the blue light of an infomercial for workout equipment. Looking around frantically, Faith finds nothing out of place. The rest of the apartment is silent. Her keys, switchblade, and stakes are piled on the table by the door where she left them. The crumbled remains of the gyro she snarfed down after patrol are waiting on the plate for clean up. Faith relaxes, letting out a deep breath. That was a weird dream. It’s not the first time Buffy’s appeared in her subconscious, but usually those dreams are a bit more… naked. 

Sitting up, Faith kicks the blanket off and fumbles for the remote. Flicking the TV off, she stands up, picking up her plate. No more gyros before bed, she thinks. Heading for the kitchen, she shakes off the remnants of her dream.

XXXXX

OCTOBER 23rd  

Faith always saves Dorchester North for her final sweep of the night. It’s close to home, and she likes the atmosphere there. The cemetery is old, older than almost any other she’s patrolled through. It’s changed some since she was newly called, with the city scrounging up funds to reset the fractured headstones and dig the old Wood mausoleum out from under the jungle that had been slowly overtaking it. Faith doesn’t have to worry about newbie vamps—no one new’s been buried here for decades now—but ground that’s seen more than 300 years of burials is fertile for all kinds of otherworldly mischief. 

It also happens to draw more than its fair share of teenagers up to no good, and Faith enjoys scaring the shit of out of them when the opportunity presents. 

Tonight, the place is deserted. There are no ghosts, goblins, ghouls, or local youths to tango with, and Faith slips out of the graveyard and onto Alvan Terrace with practiced ease. Walking through the neighborhood, carved pumpkins and assorted gourds decorate doorsteps. Orange and purple lights twinkle from a few porches, their doorways draped with faux cobwebs and hanging skeletons. Halloween is just around the corner, and the good people of Boston are apparently not content to let Salem have all the fun. Faith likes Halloween just fine, but the increase in ghost tours around this time of year does put a slight damper on her patrols. It’s a little harder to dust vamps with a busload of tourists gawking at her. 

She’s moved her patrols later to compensate for the increased traffic in most of the cemeteries, but that hasn’t been as easy for the other slayers, who have morning commitments.  There are three of them in Boston these days. To Faith’s surprise, Colleen had followed her here after surviving the Sunnydale crash course in Slaying 101. Faith’s not really sure why. The two of them didn’t exchange more than a handful of words while they were living in the same house, and it’s not like Faith really wowed anyone with her leadership skills while they were there. Here though, it’s different. Faith spent her first several months back patrolling with Colleen every night, making sure she had the skill set she needed to stay alive. Colleen was a quick learner, and these days she’s a strong fighter. She’s also incredibly laid back, which makes her a good counterpoint to the third of their little squad. 

Van is a newer slayer, called six months ago. She’s in her first year of college and far from home, so Faith tries to watch out for her. Unfortunately, she’s also headstrong, chafes against authority, and she’s resentful as hell at her newfound destiny. Faith finds herself sending silent apologies to Diana whenever Van says some smart ass comment that Faith can practically hear herself saying circa 1998. 

As she turns the corner onto her street, Faith slips her cell from her pocket and checks for messages. She’s usually the last one back to her apartment, and the other two send a text letting her know they’re safely home. Sure enough, she has two texts waiting for her. All is quiet in the city tonight. Faith lets herself into the building, forgoing the elevator in favor of the stairs. In her apartment, she polishes off a packet of Poptarts and gets a quick shower before she climbs into bed. 

The dream is not an unfamiliar one. Faith rests her back against the jet behind her seat, letting the hot tub soothe away some of the post patrol aches and pains. Across from her, Buffy’s doing the same, and Faith watches the bubbling water toy with the strands of hair escaping from her ponytail. There’s an angry red claw mark in Buffy’s shoulder, rapidly healing. Faith’s got a matching one, courtesy of the Grimslaw demon they came across earlier. In spite of that, it’s been a good night. They kicked a lot of ass and now it’s time to decompress. Nothing helps her do that better than looking up at a sky full of stars, a cold beer sitting within reach, and a hot soak relaxing her muscles. 

Well, almost nothing.

“You look a little chilly,” Buffy says softly, her eyes on Faith.

She’s not wrong. The air has cooled down a bit, and Faith’s sunk lower, letting the water cover her shoulders. “Little bit,” she says, knowing what that admission will lead to.

Pushing off the chair she’s settled in, Buffy glides toward her. She’s buoyant in the water, and Faith barely feels her weight when Buffy straddles her lap. “Want me to warm you up?” Buffy offers, her fingertips gliding up Faith’s arm to toy with the thin strap of her bikini top. 

In lieu of a response, Faith puts both hands on her ass and pulls her closer, bringing their mouths together. 

Buffy’s thighs squeeze her hips, and Faith slides forward in her seat, giving Buffy room to wrap her legs fully around her. There’s no one to see them out here, miles from civilization in their own private hideaway, so Faith doesn’t hesitate in releasing the ties of Buffy’s bikini top. 

The top meets the side of the jacuzzi with a wet thunk when Faith flings it away. Buffy’s perfect tits are in Faith’s hands. She gasps against Faith’s mouth when Faith rolls her nipple between two fingers. 

Suddenly, Buffy goes still. “Did you hear that?” She asks, frowning. 

Faith pauses, listening for a second. “What?” She asks. 

Buffy slides off her lap, moving to the edge of the hot tub and deactivating the bubbles. The night is silent other than the faint hint of electricity powering the Jacuzzi. “I don’t,” Faith begins, only to hear a distant scream.

Buffy reaches for her bathing suit. 

“I’ll check it out,” Faith offers. “You wait here. Don’t put that back on.”

Laughing, Buffy agrees. 

Faith climbs out, grabbing one of the towels folded and waiting for them. She wraps it around herself and slides her feet into her flip flops. 

There’s another shout, maybe slightly closer, but no more distinct. Faith tightens her towel and starts for the cabin, intending to get real shoes and a flashlight before she goes into the woods. She’s back outside, sneakers on her feet and her bathing suit soaking through her hastily pulled on shorts and t-shirt in just a few seconds. All the same, the hot tub stands empty. 

“B?” Faith calls, fiddling with the flashlight for a moment before she manages to get the beam on.

There’s no answer. 

Faith sweeps the light in a wide arc in either direction of the Jacuzzi. There’s no sign of Buffy. Frowning, she crosses the distance to the deck supporting the hot tub. The underwater lights glow faintly yellow in the empty pool. Buffy’s sandals are pushed under the bench, her towel dry and neatly folded on top. 

“Buffy!” Faith takes a few steps away and shines her light at the surrounding ground in hopes of seeing footprints. 

There’s nothing she can see except dirt and sparse grass. 

From behind her, Faith hears the glug glug glug of the Jacuzzi bubbles resuming. Slayer senses tingling, she turns around slowly to face the control panel. 

There’s no one there. There’s no one Faith can see between her and the cabin. No one between her and the tree line. There’s only Faith and the hot tub, bubbling fiercely. 

She makes herself walk back to the Jacuzzi, although her feet feel leaden and her stomach is tight with dread. 

The bubbles are too large and moving much faster than they should be able to, and Faith reaches for the control panel, flicking them off. She expects to feel better when they’re silent again, no longer interfering with her ability to hear the surrounding area, but instead, it’s worse. As the bubbles clear, Faith glances into the tub and sees dark water emerging from one of the floor drains. 

It’s slow moving, brownish green, and somehow thicker than the surrounding water. It doesn’t mix and dilute as it meets the chlorinated water, but slinks through it with purpose. 

Faith fumbles for the controls, keeping her eye on the tub as she tries the power button. Nothing happens. 

The dark water spills out faster, overtaking the clear wherever it touches. Through the murkiness, Faith sees something moving. It’s too dark to make out what exactly it is, but whatever it is, it sets off alarm bells in Faith’s head.

She stabs at the controls again, but only succeeds in turning the jets back on. Now the darkness overtakes the water completely, the jets creating such turbulence that some water spills over the sides and hits the deck. Faith backs away, her instincts telling her not to allow whatever this is to touch her. 

At the edge of the deck, Faith nearly trips off, keeping her eyes on the hot tub. When she rights herself, she sees something that gives her pause. In the center of the tub, something white moves through the bubbles. 

Against her better judgment, Faith leans closer, craning her neck for a look. It takes a moment for it to surface again, but Faith spots it. Pale white, with flashes of pink… Painted fingernails. A hand. Buffy’s hand. 

Fear makes her breath stutter in her lungs. Faith leaps back onto the deck, the flashlight falling at her feet as she leans over the edge of the Jacuzzi, desperately looking for a glimpse of Buffy inside. 

The water is frigid, and the chlorine scent is gone. Instead, it smells brackish when she leans in close, groping for Buffy’s hand beneath the surface. 

The dark water seeps into her shirt, leaching the warmth from her skin as Faith leans in further. Finally, she feels something solid and closes her fingers around it. Dragging it back to the surface, Faith can feel the shape of fingers, cold and limp in hers. 

She’s pulling, struggling to keep her footing on the deck with how far she’s had to lean, when the fingers tighten around hers. For a second she’s relieved. Then the hand yanks. 

Faith’s knee smashes into the side of the hot tub as she’s dragged forward, her free hand fighting for something to catch hold of. The night splits with the sounds of thrashing, the hollow thunk of her sneakers against the exterior of the Jacuzzi, the squeal of wet flesh desperately scrabbling against hard plastic. 

Faith pulls back with all her might, but it’s useless; the grip is too strong. The water seems to rise up to meet her as she’s dragged forward. She has enough time to begin a scream, then the water swallows her down, flooding her mouth and covering her eyes. 

The sheets are damp with sweat when Faith sits up with a gasp. Her hand claws at her throat, expecting to still be choking on that horrible, thick water. She sucks in air, only realizing she’s shaking when she hears the faint rustling of her sheets. “Fuck,” she says, shoving the bedding off. Fumbling for the lamp beside her bed, Faith flicks it on, needing to see her surroundings better. She’s in her own bedroom. When she picks up her cell phone, the time on the display lets her know it’s just after 4AM. 

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Faith gets up. There’s no way she’s going back to sleep now.

XXXXX

OCTOBER 27th

Three nights pass with no further dreams. Far from being relieved, Faith finds herself growing increasingly antsy. She can’t stop thinking about Buffy, and not in a fun, ‘wonder what she sounds like when she comes’ way like usual. She’s worried. Faith even goes so far as to text Xander. She doesn’t come right out and ask about Buffy, but she doesn’t really need to. The original Scooby gang is back to being as codependent as ever. Xander rarely gets more than two replies in before he mentions Willow, Buffy, or both. Sure enough, Faith’s noncommittal How’s it going? gets her the result she’s looking for.

Kicking ass, Xander writes back, with a photo of a bowling scoreboard. Alexander the Great is winning by quite a large margin, with Samantha Stevens and Buffmeister trailing. Beneath the scoreboard, the glint of blond hair is framed at the head of the lane. 

The tension in Faith’s chest eases slightly. Try not to gloat too much, she types back. 

The response comes a moment later. No promises.

Knowing that everything seems normal with Buffy, Faith resolves to put the strange dreams out of her mind. It’s the weekend, and she’s meeting the younger slayers for some training and a joint patrol. There’s nothing to worry about, she tells herself, locking her apartment door behind her.

Hours later, she jolts awake to hands on her shoulders. Colleen’s worried face stares into hers, her dark hair frazzled from sleep.

“You were screaming,” Colleen says, as Faith tries to get her bearings. Noticing Faith’s gaze jumping around, she adds, “You passed out on my couch after patrol, remember?”

Now, Faith does remember. The fear curdling her stomach recedes slightly, and she shrugs away from Colleen’s hold. 

“Bad dream?” Colleen probes, but she drops her hands. 

The dream isn’t fading like most dreams do. Faith can still picture it vividly: the two of them at the fountain outside of Sunnydale High, Buffy making a wish. Buffy tumbling into the fountain and sinking down much further than should be possible. Faith going after her and meeting only the hard cement bottom of the fountain, barely deep enough to submerge herself. 

She nods.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Faith says. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No big deal,” Colleen says amiably. 

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

A strong hand is back on her shoulder before Faith can even swing her leg off the couch. “Transit’s not even running this late,” Colleen says. “You’re staying here.”

Faith opens her mouth to protest, but she’s steamrolled.

“Watch TV if you don’t wanna go back to sleep,” Colleen says, gesturing at the TV remote. “We’re supposed to meet Van for breakfast, and you are not leaving me alone with her.”

That gets a laugh out of her. “Fine,” Faith agrees. 

Shoving her shoulder lightly, Colleen gets back to her feet. “See you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Faith says. As Colleen turns to go, she has another thought. “Hey, Coll?”

Colleen turns back.

“You’re good at all the research stuff,” Faith begins, only to be cut off by a snicker.

“You mean I actually stayed awake when Dawn was explaining how we could search the digitized collections?”

“Yeah, that,” Faith says with a grumpy wave of her hand. “Need you to check something out for me.” She gives Colleen a very brief overview of her dreams, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details. “Can you do a search, see if you come up with anything?”

“I’ll try,” Colleen says doubtfully. “Water and drowning aren’t much to go on. I’m guessing there’s gonna be like a million demons that get their kicks drowning people.” She must see the uneasiness still in Faith’s face, because she softens and says, “I’ll check in the morning though, see what I can find.”

“Thanks.”

A kind smile is her response.

When Colleen’s disappeared back down the hallway toward her bedroom, Faith picks up her cell phone and thumbs to the text chain with Xander. She re-reads their last few messages. Nothing to worry about, she tells herself. B’s fine. You’re maybe losing your mind, but nothing new there. Still, she picks up the TV remote and flicks the box on. Morning’ll be here soon enough.

XXXXX

The air is chilled and biting as Faith watches the setting sun dip behind the buildings west of hers. For not the first time, she regrets her recent decision to quit smoking. On the bright side, she no longer has to see the disapproving look on Colleen’s face when she lights up around her. On the less bright side, she has nothing to cut the anxiety she’s feeling at the prospect of calling Scooby HQ. Rather than the warm hit of dopamine she could be getting right now, Faith passes her cell phone hand to hand and lets the wind whip her hair around her face. Maybe she doesn’t need to call Giles. Colleen’s quick search this morning had revealed 862 different demons known to reside in bodies of water; what’s Giles going to be able to tell her that’s different? But if she doesn’t ask him and then something happens to Buffy…

Before she can talk herself out of it, Faith opens her phone and scrolls to Giles’s contact. She hits call and raises the phone to her ear, tapping her free hand against her thigh methodically.

It rings once, twice, then Giles’s voice answers, sounding distracted. “This is Giles.”

“Hey,” Faith says, then clears her throat before continuing. “Hey, G, it’s, uhh, Faith.”

That gets his full attention. “Faith,” Giles replies, “everything all right?”

“Uh,” Faith says, “I don’t know really. That’s why I’m calling.”

She hears the scrape of a chair moving from his end, and then Giles asks, “What’s going on?”

Faith tells him more than she told Colleen, mentioning Buffy this time. Still, she doesn’t tell him everything. She can’t see how her perving on Buffy would be pertinent info. Leaving that aside, she tries to cover every small detail she can remember, just in case they’re important. 

Giles listens intently, letting out a hmm noise as she finishes. “And you think these are prophetic dreams?” He deduces without her needing to suggest it.

“Maybe,” Faith hedges, although that’s exactly what she’s afraid of.

The other end of the line is quiet for a few moments, during which time Faith ducks back inside the stairwell and closes the door to the roof. 

“Have you ever had a prophetic dream before?” Giles asks.

Faith hesitates, thinking of standing with Buffy in her packed up apartment, a cat on the bed behind her. Is this your mind or mine? “I’m not sure,” she says truthfully. She dreamt while she was in a coma, but how’s she supposed to know if they were slayer dreams or traumatic brain injury induced?

“Prophetic dreaming isn’t something that was observed with every slayer,” Giles says in response. “None of the new slayers have reported experiencing it, and there haven’t been any instances with you in all this time. Buffy, on the other hand, has often had dreams that turned out to be premonitions.”

In spite of herself, Faith stiffens at his words. Of course if there’s some extra special slayer power that not all of them get, it’d skip right over her. 

“I have a bit of a theory about it,” Giles continues, his voice taking on a quality she recognizes from when he gets really jazzed up about major nerd stuff. “All the physical powers seem to be equal amongst the two of you and the younger slayers, but the mystical side, the dreaming, the connection with the First Slayer, that seems to have remained with Buffy—”

Faith cuts him off. “So these are just what, nightmares?” 

“That seems likely,” Giles says agreeably, not sounding put out at Faith cutting his explanation short. “Buffy’s dreams are usually more… well, mystical in nature. These seem fairly straightforward.”

“Okay,” Faith says shortly. Even Buffy’s dreams are better than hers, apparently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Giles says. “If you’d like, I can research a bit more, just to be safe. There are quite a few demons known to drown victims, but I’m—”

“That’s okay,” Faith says, feeling twitchy and wanting off the phone. “I gotta run, G. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Giles says. “Take care, Faith.”

She presses the end option on their call without further response and slides her phone in her jacket pocket. She should feel reassured—there’s no way these dreams mean anything if she doesn’t even have the gift of prophetic dreaming—but Giles’s words have done nothing to soothe her nerves. Faith can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. And it’s headed straight for Buffy. 

XXXXX

OCTOBER 29th 

Warm toes brush against her calf, rousing Faith from the light sleep she’s fallen into. She doesn’t immediately react, choosing to lie still and soak up the feeling of the sun beating down on her bare skin. When she doesn’t open her eyes, the toes butt a little harder into her leg. 

“Faith,” a voice whines from close by.

A small smile curls Faith’s lips.

“I know you’re awake.”

Faith cracks open one eye. Buffy sits beside her on the oversized beach towel, her long hair barely held back by sunglasses pushed onto her head. She’s wearing a neon green and black one-piece with a chunky zipper down the chest. A matching green scrunchie encircles her wrist, relieved of its hair wrangling duties. “What tipped you off?” Faith asks, yawning.

“Super senses,” Buffy says smugly. Then, “And I saw your eyelid twitch when I said your name.”

“Ah,” Faith says, closing her eyes again. 

“Faith!” A rather large quantity of sand is kicked onto her leg.

Making a disgruntled noise, Faith opens both eyes and glowers at her. “What?”

“Come in the water with me,” Buffy says, batting her eyes alluringly now that she has Faith’s full attention. 

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re gonna make me go alone?” Buffy asks.

“Yup.”

“Fine.”

Faith hears a rustling noise as the towel fights with the sand. Buffy’s voice comes from further away. “But if you don’t come in after me, I might die!”

A cold sensation prickles along Faith’s hairline, and she sits up abruptly, eyes opening. 

Buffy’s gone, her discarded flip flops half buried in the sand. Faith scans the beach quickly, expecting to find her nearby. There’s a family of four sitting several yards to her left. The father and two kids dig in the sand with plastic buckets; the mother lies face up, the straps of her geometric print suit pulled down to avoid tan lines. Faith ignores them, looking in the opposite direction. She spots Buffy to the right, already at the shoreline. The waves rush up against her ankles. 

“B!” Faith calls, eyes trained on Buffy’s back as she starts climbing to her feet. “Wait up!”

Maybe Buffy doesn’t hear her. Or maybe she’s just ignoring her because Faith refused to get up. Faith starts across the beach.

Her feet sink into the sand more deeply than she’s expecting. Every step feels twice as difficult as it should, and Faith has to raise her knees higher to pull her feet free. 

Ahead of her, Buffy wades into the water.

“Just wait a second!” Faith calls, an edge of panic in her voice. It seems to take an eternity to reach the water’s edge. By the time the waves are lapping at her feet, Buffy’s already well out into the water, swimming under each successive wave before her blond head emerges again. 

The water is frigid, but Faith rushes in anyway, diving down when she reaches waist depth. The cold threatens to steal the air from her lungs, but she persists, surfacing with a gasp and looking for Buffy’s bobbing form. She spots her, appearing momentarily between the swells. Buffy grins at her and waves. As Faith starts a quick stroke in her direction, she sees the smile fall from Buffy’s face. In the next moment, she disappears abruptly beneath the water, her hand reaching frantically for the surface. 

Faith’s still too far away, but she dives anyway, forcing her eyes open underwater. The salt stings and burns, but she swims harder, searching the murky space for any sign of Buffy. She swims harder than she’s ever swum in her life, her powerful body cutting through the water quickly. 

She thinks she glimpses Buffy ahead of her, just the pale expanse of her calf or a hint of blond hair sinking slowly down. She can’t reach her, and the water is cold. So cold.

Faith’s lungs begin to burn, her chest aching with every moment she stays under, until finally she has to swim up. She kicks toward the sunlight breaking through the water, muscles aching, lungs ready to burst. She needs to gulp air and then she’ll go back down, she tells herself. She’ll find Buffy. 

She’s nearly there. With a final push, Faith lunges toward the surface, her fingers emerging first. Just before her head rises above water, she hears it, deep and echoing from somewhere beneath her.

THUMP.

Faith’s tailbone meets the floor beside her bed with a resounding thud, and she opens her eyes to find bright sunlight flooding her small bedroom. Her blankets are tangled around her legs, half dragged to the floor with her. Goosebumps have broken out on both of her arms, and her mouth is dry. Managing to extract herself from the bedding, she draws her knees to her chest and takes several deep breaths, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow. As she waits, she looks at the digital clock beside her bed. It’s October 29th, 7:37AM. Faith does some mental gymnastics. It’s Saturday now, meaning Van and Colleen will have more flexibility with their patrol schedule at least for tonight. The drive to the new slayer central isn’t too bad, especially with the weekend traffic already out of the city. If she leaves after work, she can be there by early evening. 

For a second she hesitates. How’s she going to explain why she’s showing up out of the blue like this? But the thought of not going leaves her stomach tight with dread. Something’s happening, and she can’t ignore it any longer. She needs to talk to Giles again, make him understand that these aren’t just dreams. Taking her phone from the nightstand, Faith flips it open and starts tapping out a message to Colleen. Only after she’s sent it does she start to relax. It’s settled; in twelve hours, she’ll be in Rhode Island. 

XXXXX

Faith coasts across the bridge to Jamestown just after dark. To her right, the hulking remains of the Old Jamestown Bridge loom, more ominous for the lack of illumination. She keeps her eyes on the road ahead of her, well-lit but sparsely crowded at the moment, fingers drumming the wheel as she tries not to let herself get too worked up. She’s only been to the new digs a few times, but she remembers the way well enough. The island’s not that big. It’s also not the most active place, demonically speaking, but after Sunnydale fell into a crater, most of them were homeless and in no position to argue when Giles came up with a solution. The new Scooby central is a veritable estate, one of the assets that belonged to the Council before 95% of their membership was wiped out by the First’s agents. With no one left to really protest, and an accomplished hacker on payroll, the property now belongs to the Sunnydale Trust. Technically Faith’s a trustee, but no one made too big a fuss when she announced her intention to go back to Boston. 

Lights shine through the first floor windows of the house when she pulls up the driveway. Deeper into the recesses of the property, a soft glow shows in the groundskeeper’s cottage that now functions as Giles’s private residence. Faith parks alongside the house, noting a few other cars already there. Grabbing her duffel from the passenger seat, she steps out. It feels a little strange to find the house key on her key ring and let herself in. She’s never done that before, in spite of the fact that she’s been told this place is hers too, any time she wants to be here. The side door leads into a mudroom, and Faith kicks her shoes off before she proceeds into the house proper. Laughter and voices lead her toward the dining room, and Faith sets her bag down in the hall before she squares her shoulders and steps through the doorway. 

Xander spots her first, dropping his fork in surprise. He recovers quickly, his face splitting into a grin. “Faith!” He pushes his chair back and gets up.

Buffy’s seated closest to the door and she looks over, similarly surprised. “Hey,” she greets, as Xander is enveloping Faith in a bear hug. “I didn’t know you were coming down.”

“Yeah,” Faith says, her anxiety diminishing now that she’s set eyes on Buffy, “it was kind of spur of the moment.” She pats Xander’s back.

“Everything okay?” Kennedy asks.

“Yeah,” Faith says, trying to sound confident about that, “just felt like getting out of the city.”

“I’ll get you a plate!” Willow offers, getting up from the table.

“Thanks.”

Buffy pushes out the empty chair beside her and motions for Faith to join them. 

Making her way over, Faith glances around the assembled group, giving a nod and small smile to those she recognizes. Caridad has been with the group since Sunnydale, and Renee shortly after. There’s another younger slayer who looks vaguely familiar, and then a newbie to Buffy’s opposite side who Faith can’t place at all. 

“This is Satsu,” Buffy says when Faith is seated, gesturing toward the stranger. “She’s just joined us.”

“Hey,” Faith says politely.

Satsu inclines her head in acknowledgement, quickly looking away when Buffy turns her attention elsewhere.

“I think you’ve met Nisha?” Buffy asks.

The girl who Faith only sort of recognizes waves enthusiastically, so Faith nods agreeably. “Where’s Dawn?” Faith asks, as Willow returns with a plate piled high with lasagna and garlic bread. She accepts the food gratefully. She didn’t have time to eat before she jumped in the car after work.

Buffy launches into a long-suffering explanation of how Dawn’s mostly too cool to come home from school on the weekends and they never see her anymore. The other Scoobies chime in, the newcomers less often, and Faith lets it all wash over her, digging into her lasagna. She’s always found the Scooby chatter to be a little overwhelming, and now is no different. She zones out until she’s pleasantly stuffed full of food and catches Willow murmuring something about sleeping arrangements. 

“We could ask Maeve and Jen to bunk up,” Willow is saying softly. “I don’t know about moving Dani—she’s already struggling with—”

“I can crash on the couch,” Faith says quickly. “No need to move anybody on my account.”

Willow looks doubtful. “People are coming and going through the living room at all hours.”

“Faith can stay with me for now,” Buffy offers before Faith can protest further. She glances at Faith, her eyes a little wider than usual. “Dawn’s not using her room anyway.”

Over Buffy’s shoulder, Faith catches the expressions on the others’ faces. Xander and Kennedy appear surprised. The new girl—Satsu—looks particularly dour for some reason. “Stay with you?” Faith echoes.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “We fixed up the apartment over the garage. Dawn and I moved in a few months back.”

“Oh,” Faith says, getting it now. “You don’t have to do that, B.”

“I insist,” Buffy says, giving her an overly bright smile. 

There’s no way to refuse without making things weird. Plus, the closer she stays to Buffy, the easier it’ll be to make sure she’s still among the living. “Okay,” Faith agrees. “Thanks.”

As the night goes on, more of the junior slayers trickle in. The others introduce them all, but Faith’s definitely forgotten most of their names. By the time they walk across the darkened grounds together, Faith’s feeling people’d out and jittery as hell. Being alone with Buffy is both better and worse than being stuck in the house with everyone. On the one hand, there are no wide eyed newbies staring at her like she’s the newest attraction at the zoo, but on the other, without a buffer, the two of them usually devolve into awkward silence or worse, arguments. 

“So,” Buffy says, her voice soft in the quiet night, “everything good with you?”

“Yeah,” Faith says. “Can’t complain.”

“Savannah still giving you guys a hard time?”

“Eh, she’s not too bad,” Faith says generously, although she can’t say she’s gonna miss Van’s sour face and trademark lack of enthusiasm while she’s away. “Coll can handle her for a bit.”

“Just felt like a visit then?” Buffy prompts as they start up the exterior staircase attached to the garage. 

Faith’s hackles rise at that. “Look, if I’m putting you out, I—”

“No!” Buffy cuts in, turning to face Faith as she reaches the small landing outside the front door to her apartment. “You’re not! You’re really not. I just”—she gestures for Faith to crowd onto the landing next to her—“wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She fishes in her pocket for her keys, her eyes on Faith’s face. “If something’s going on, or you need back up, or whatever… we’re here for you. I’m here for you.” She turns to insert her key in the lock. In the close quarters, Buffy’s elbow brushes Faith’s stomach. 

Faith’s surprised to find her throat feeling full. She swallows quickly, her voice only a little thick when she says, “That’s mutual, you know?”

The lock turns over, but Buffy doesn’t open the door right away. She looks back at Faith, her eyes shining in the dark. “Thank you,” she says softly. She gives Faith a more searching look. “You didn’t really answer my question.”

They’re entirely too close together, and Faith loses the thread of their conversation for a moment. Buffy’s a knockout any time of the day or night, but Faith’s always liked her best like this: everything bright and beautiful about her peeking through the shadows. The line between dreams and reality seems to blur and Faith almost, almost reaches for her. She catches herself. “I’m okay,” she promises, her voice as soft as Buffy’s. “Just trying to work some things out, but nothing I need cavalry for.”

Buffy looks relieved at that. “You’d tell me if you did?” She probes.

Faith nods. 

“Okay,” Buffy says. She gives Faith a small smile then reaches for the doorknob. “Then welcome to the new casa Summers.”

XXXXX

OCTOBER 30th 

It’s not hard to keep track of Buffy. She spends most of the morning in her small apartment. She disappears into the bathroom and takes a bath that lasts approximately one and a half terrifying hours, during which time Faith is half convinced Buffy’s going to be murdered by some bathtub materializing demon. She finds multiple reasons to call to Buffy through the door, just to check. 

“Hey, B? Is it cool if I help myself to some cereal?”

“You’re gonna need a new box of Count Chocula!”

“B? I was gonna make some coffee. You want a cup for when you get out?”

“You know, your fridge is making this weird whining sound. I could probably—”

“Faith,” Buffy finally interrupts with a hint of annoyance, “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Faith says, relieved. She retreats to the kitchen to pour Buffy the promised cup of coffee. 

At Buffy’s insistence, Faith had stayed in Buffy’s room while Buffy moved into Dawn’s. Buffy disappears now into her sister’s room, wrapped in an oversized towel. She reappears shortly after, wearing yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She raises an eyebrow at the mug Faith holds out for her. 

“Were you lonely out here by yourself?” Buffy teases as she sets her mug down and adds a little milk. 

Faith’s face colors. She’s trying to save Buffy from a watery grave, but she can’t exactly admit that. “Maybe I was,” she says instead. “Couldn’t find the TV remote and I’ve already read the entire Sweet Valley High series.” She smirks, gesturing toward the bookshelf, which does in fact contain at least 40 pastel paperbacks adorned with blond girls.

“Those are Dawn’s,” Buffy says a little too quickly. 

“Uh huh.”

“The remote should be right on the coffee table,” Buffy says, changing the subject and heading for the small living room with her coffee in hand.

Buffy’s not incorrect. The remote was on the coffee table until Faith stuffed it between the couch cushions so she’d have another plausible question to call through the bathroom door. 

“That’s weird,” Buffy says, frowning as she takes a seat on the couch. “It’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

Faith waves her off. “It’s cool.” She takes a sip of her own coffee and then casually asks, “You got a lot going on today?”

“I’m gonna spar with Satsu after lunch,” Buffy says, setting her mug aside and starting to pick up magazines from the table, in search of the remote. “That’s about it. We’ll probably all watch a scary movie later.”

“Gotta get in the Halloween spirit,” Faith agrees. 

Buffy half smiles. “Eh, I’d rather get in the rom-com spirit, but ‘tis the season, I guess.”

“Come on, B,” Faith says, pretending to help her search for the remote, “you can handle a scary movie, can’t you? You face scarier stuff every day.” She lifts one of the couch cushions and shakes it slightly.

“Exactly why I deserve to lose myself in a beautiful love story.”

Faith lifts another cushion, then says, “There we go.”

“Ah, the classic remote lost in the couch scenario. I should have checked there.” Reaching over, Buffy picks up the TV remote. “Thanks.”

Faith shrugs, setting the cushion back in its place. “All in a day’s work,” she says with a grin. 

XXXXX

With Buffy safely occupied with training, Faith heads for greener pastures. The armory at Scooby central makes the collection she remembers from the Sunnydale High library look like child’s play. There are the requisite hand to hand combat weapons, blades of all sorts, and longer range weapons like spears, crossbows, and a flamethrower. There’s even a small section that could technically be classed as firearms, containing three tranquilizer guns and what she’s pretty sure is a bazooka. Faith’s been meandering through the blades and is happily inspecting a kukri when she hears a light knock on the open door behind her. She glances over her shoulder to find Giles, looking comfortable in a crew neck sweater and dark chinos. “I thought I heard some of the girls whispering that the mysterious Faith was somewhere around here,” he says with some amusement in his voice.

Faith rolls her eyes and sets the kukri down carefully, sharp edges facing away from herself. “Mysterious?” She repeats, walking toward him.

“To them anyway,” Giles acknowledges, smiling at her in greeting. “Hello, Faith. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to be seen,” Faith says, flashing him an awkward grin in return. “The weapons collection’s really expanded.”

“Oh yes,” Giles says, straightening up like a docent who’s finally been asked an interesting question. “With so many new girls coming to us for training, we wanted to have options. There are quite a few demons who can only be killed with blessed weapons of a certain caliber so we try to…” He trails off, perhaps noticing the slight glaze to her eyes, and clears his throat. “I’m guessing you didn’t stop by to discuss the armory.”

Faith hesitates. Giles dismissed her concerns when she called him; what would be different now? 

“More dreams?” Giles prompts lightly.

This time, Faith nods. 

“Was Buffy there again?” Giles asks, his forehead creasing in concern.

Crossing her arms under her breasts and leaning against the wall opposite him, Faith nods again. “She was there. She went in the water. I couldn’t catch up.” She’s a little relieved to see him frown. It gives her the courage to add, “I think there’s something to this, Giles. It doesn’t feel right.”

To his credit, Giles seems to take this seriously. “No, it doesn’t,” he says thoughtfully. “I took some notes from our conversation the other day. Was there anything else significant this time? Anything strange or out of place that you think may be useful?”

Faith thinks about that for a moment. “There was a family,” she says, realizing how unusual that was as she says it. “All my other dreams, it was just the two of us.”

“Tell me what you remember about them.”

“Mom, Dad, two kids,” Faith says, racking her brain for more detail. “Regular looking family, I guess.”

“All right,” Giles says, still looking concerned.

“The mom’s bathing suit was kind of old,” Faith remembers. “Like maybe 80s? Definitely not current. B was wearing something like that too. Does that help?”

“It may,” Giles says, pulling a hanky free of his pocket and reaching for his glasses. “If this was a slayer dream, the time period could mean something. Was there anything that felt out of place in your earlier dreams? Anything that reminded you of the past?”

Faith thinks about that for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she says, not feeling 100% sure about it. 

Giles nods. “It’s hard to know what’s meaningful in dreams, and what’s just”—he gestures in the air beside his temple—“our brains processing.” Polishing his glasses now, Giles says, “If there’s a danger to Buffy—”

“I’m keeping an eye on her,” Faith cuts in. “That’s why I’m here.”

He’s silent as he puts glasses back in their rightful place. Tucking his hanky away, Giles asks in a very careful voice, “You’d rather she not know in case these dreams are of a more personal nature?”

Her face flushes hot, and Faith drops her arms to her sides, standing up straight. “They’re not—I mean, it’s nothing… I don’t want to worry her is all.”

Giles nods sagely, his face a mask of professionalism as he meets her eyes again. “I’ll research. Give me a day or two. I see no reason to worry Buffy when we don’t know what we’re up against, if anything.”

Shoulders sagging slightly in relief, Faith nods. “Thank you.”

XXXXX

As promised, they cap off the night by watching two scary movies. The living room floor is covered in a tangled mass of pillows, brimming bowls of popcorn, and slayers in pajamas. Xander and Renee are curled on the loveseat, their own bowl of popcorn between them. Faith manages to score a recliner that’s offset from the other furniture. It doesn’t take much effort to keep one eye on Buffy as they watch the movie. After Buffy gamely sits through The Amityville Horror, wincing several times, Faith decides to throw her a bone. The crowd accepts her suggestion of Bride of Chucky. It’s almost like a rom-com, if you squint. Buffy perks up some anyway, laughing more often than she’s hiding her face behind her hands.

When the credits roll, they walk back to the garage together. Buffy lets them in, and they linger a few minutes in between the two bedrooms. Leaning against the door frame to her own room, essentially blocking Faith’s path, Buffy gives her an assessing look. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Faith says immediately. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, still looking at her. “You’ve just been really… present since you got here.”

Faith frowns.

“Not that that’s a bad thing!” Buffy adds quickly. “You’re just usually more into, like, space.”

“I can give you some space if you want,” Faith offers, taking a step back toward the living room. “Didn’t mean to crowd you.” Nice going, Lehane. Now she’ll get eaten by some aquatic demon because you—

“You’re not.” Buffy snags her hand before Faith can complete her movement. “You’re not,” she repeats when Faith looks at her. “It’s good. I mean, it’s nice. You being here.” Her smile is nervous. “Slayer bonding time, you know?”

Faith gingerly steps forward again. “Yeah.”

Buffy holds her hand another second before she releases it and lets her own drop back to her side. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, moving away from the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

What she needs is to get a good night’s sleep without any more dreams. For a brief, insane moment, Faith wonders if there’s a way to suggest the two of them have a slumber party, or at least keep both doors open overnight. At least that way, if she wakes up panicked, she’ll know that Buffy’s okay. But there’s no way to suggest it without weirding Buffy out, so instead she smiles. “I will. Goodnight, B.”

“Goodnight, Faith.”

Faith knows it’s a dream as soon as she sees Buffy in the bathing suit. The ocean is gone, replaced by a small lake of calm, dark water. She tries to do everything right this time. She goes with Buffy, sticking close to her, hands and arms wrapped around her. They stand together, submerged up to their shoulders, Buffy’s folded against her chest, and Faith starts to think maybe this dream will be different. She’s figured it out. She just needs to hold on.

Then her arms are empty.

She looks down and sees Buffy sinking. Her hands frantically reach for Faith, sporadic bubbles escaping her lips.

Faith dives, pushing with all of her might, reaching, reaching…

But Buffy’s face slackens. Her hands go limp and sink to her sides. Her body shudders once, then again, and she’s still.

In the middle of the night, shivering with a cold sweat, Faith tiptoes across the hallway between the sisters’ bedrooms and cracks open the door to Dawn’s room. She sees the shape of Buffy’s hip under the blanket, listens to the steady in-out of her breath for a minute, and resists the urge to go in. Once she’s got her shivering under control, Faith closes the door again. She slides down the wall beside it until she’s sitting on the wood floor, her arms around her knees. She stays there past sunrise, and when she hears sounds of stirring from behind the door, she gets up, quietly ducking back into Buffy’s room.

XXXXX

OCTOBER 31st  

Apparently, Sunday mornings involve a big community breakfast. Faith dutifully follows Buffy over to the main house, finding the kitchen and dining room brimming with people. She and Buffy each load their plates with several pancakes, before weaving their way out of the kitchen and into the breakfast nook. Nook though it may be, it still has seating for eight, although it’s a tight fit. Seeing them coming, Xander and Renee pick up their plates and move further around the table, until Renee is next to Kennedy.

“Morning!” Willow says cheerfully, spearing a large chunk of pineapple from the bowl in front of her and biting into it.

“Morning!” Buffy chirps, setting her plate down at the spot next to Willow.

“Is there room for one more?” Satsu materializes by Faith’s elbow, peering around the table.

When Faith waves her in, Satsu slides into the chair next to Buffy’s.

Faith takes a seat, focusing on cutting her pancakes and getting the carby goodness in her mouth as soon as possible. Around her, the conversation ebbs and flows, covering everything from the recent infestation of Sluks found on the island to the party some of the baby slayers are attending tonight. Faith’s always had the gift of selective hearing. She honed it while in prison, tuning out most of the noise around her, but picking up on any changes in tone or pitch that might mean trouble. She’s doing that now, wondering if Giles has found anything in his search, when she hears Willow’s voice drop slightly and take on a suggestive tone. “I guess you’ll find out tonight,” she’s saying when Faith starts listening again.

“What’s tonight?” Faith asks in between bites.

“Buffy’s got a date,” Willow says with a grin.

A piece of cutlery clatters to the floor, and everyone looks over to see Satsu, red faced and bending to pick up a dropped spoon. “Sorry,” she mutters under her breath.

“A date?” Faith asks, trying to sound casual and not at all like she’s panicking at the idea of Buffy leaving the house. “On Halloween? Where’re you guys gonna go, trick-or-treating?”

“No,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes. “We’re going to go for drinks. No costumes. No scary stuff. Just drinks.”

“The guy from OkCupid?” Kennedy asks around a mouthful of eggs. “You’re finally going out?”

Buffy nods, looking a little uncomfortable now that they’re all staring at her.

“But,” Satsu says, drawing everyone’s attention to her again, “isn’t Halloween a big night for evil? The walls between the worlds are thin… or something.”

“Nah,” Xander says with a cheerful wave of his fork, “it’s usually pretty quiet on Halloween. Other than the year we all got turned into our costumes.”

Faith’s not sure she remembers that one.

“Well,” Willow adds, “there was also that time we got trapped in a frat house with all our worst fears.”

Satsu frowns deeply. Faith feels her mouth doing likewise.

“And then a couple years ago, Dawn went parking with a vamp and we had to go save her,” Buffy says, “but that was totally not Halloween’s fault.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sets her mug down before beaming at them. “Ergo, Halloween is a safe night for dating. Unlike my birthday.”

“What happens on your birthday?” Satsu asks, but Faith’s already leaning past her.

“Are you really gonna go out and meet some probably lame guy on Halloween, when you could be hanging out with us, you know, watching movies, gorging on candy… the good stuff?” Faith manages to sound light and teasing, although she sees Willow looking at her curiously.

“We’re actually going out,” Xander says, gesturing between himself and Renee.

Ignoring that, Buffy cuts in defensively. “He’s not lame! He’s really nice.”

“And you haven’t been out on a date in forever!” Renee agrees enthusiastically. “You should go!”

Wincing, Buffy says, “Thanks, Renee.”

“But you could reschedule,” Faith says. This time, Willow’s definitely looking at her. Faith catches her exchanging some kind of silent communication with Kennedy.

Caught off guard, Buffy looks at Willow, who shrugs. “We were just gonna hang out here. Nothing too special.”

Desperate now, Faith says something she never envisioned herself saying, “B, come on, we should hang out. You know, like slayer bonding time? It’s been a while.” It’s been literal years since they’ve tried anything remotely resembling slayer bonding but Faith would propose just about anything right now, and Buffy did say it first.

Buffy’s expression is morphing into one of confusion, but Faith persists. “I’ve been thinking that we should, uhh, we should do that. Me and you. Been wanting to, umm, talk and stuff.” If this doesn’t work, Faith’s gonna find herself crouched in the bushes outside whatever bar Buffy ends up in, wearing a fake nose and mustache.

Unexpectedly, Willow pipes in. “You could reschedule, Buffy. Don’t you wanna hang out with Faith?”

There’s a weird emphasis to her words that Faith doesn’t totally get, but Buffy seems to. She frowns at Willow, her face a little pink, before looking at Faith.

Faith gives her her most sincere look. “What’d ya say, B?”

“Okay,” Buffy says after a second. “I can reschedule, yeah. That’d be… good.”

“Sweet,” Faith says, relief flooding her body immediately.

“If it’s gonna be a slayer thing,” Satsu offers, “I could stay home.”

“No,” Buffy says quickly, “you should go to that party! Have fun! You haven’t done anything fun since you got here.” She pats Satsu’s arm.

“I have fun,” Satsu disagrees softly.

“You train all the time,” Kennedy points out.

“Training is fun.”

It’s taken a few minutes to click, but Faith’s beginning to sense there’s a reason Satsu seems to find training so fun. A short, blond reason. She smiles toothily in Satsu’s direction. “You should go out,” she says sweetly. “We can keep ourselves occupied for one night. Right, B?”

“Uh, right,” Buffy agrees.

Satsu doesn’t quite manage to hide the flash of disappointment on her face.

After breakfast, Faith reasons Buffy can keep herself alive long enough for her to check in with Giles. She finds him in his office, reclining in a comfy chair with a book in his lap. 

“Hey, Giles,” Faith greets, closing the door behind her. “Anything?”

“Good morning,” Giles says, maneuvering his feet off the hassock. He closes the book carefully and sets it aside. “I have a few leads, but nothing concrete. There are a number of demons that hunt in water. The fact that it might be fresh water or salt water isn’t narrowing things down much.”

Faith slumps into the chair across from his and scrubs a hand down her face. “What about that family—they might be a clue, right?”

“Might be,” Giles agrees. “Unfortunately, it seems that families frequently disappeared without a trace in America in the 1980s.” He frowns. “Pretty disturbing, actually. Even limiting the search to the New England area, there are several possibilities.” 

“So we’ve got nothing to go on,” Faith says, her heart sinking. “No way to tell for sure that this is anything.”

“Not yet,” Giles says, “but I’ve got Maeve searching the web for me. She’s interested in research, so she thinks I’ve given her an academic exercise. We’ve got two good possibilities so far. A family vacationing from Hartford that were last seen heading toward Patience, and a young woman from Nashua who drowned mysteriously while seaside with her family.”

That gets Faith’s attention. 

Giles nods encouragingly. “See? We’re getting somewhere. Give me the day. We’ll sort this out, if there’s something to sort.”

Faith nods. “Okay. Thanks, Giles.”

XXXXX

Giving Giles the day ends up being much more challenging than Faith expects. For starters, Buffy takes a shower. Totally normal, totally fine, unless you’re in danger of being murdered by a water dwelling demon. Faith stands outside the bathroom door, perfectly still, and listens to every movement inside for evidence of a struggle. Fortunately, she has perfect hearing. Unfortunately, she also has an active imagination. The pop of shampoo opening, the squeeze of body wash leaving the bottle, the patter of water hitting the shower floor differently when Buffy moves—it all paints a vivid picture in Faith’s mind. She spends 15 minutes with her heart racing—half at the prospect of Buffy being dragged down the drain by some demon’s tentacle, and half at the mental picture of Buffy soaping up and scrubbing down—until the shower turns off. Then she slinks away before Buffy catches her listening to her shower like some kind of peeping Tom (eavesdropping Tom? Whatever). 

Things are a little better when Faith accompanies her to the mall. This isn’t a planned activity, but when she finds Buffy lacing up her sneakers with a shopping bag at her feet, she’s forced to improvise. 

(“I’ll go with,” Faith said.

Buffy looked surprised. “To the mall?” 

“Yeah,” Faith said, trying to sound casual. “Don’t wanna stay here all day with the newbies. They’re always staring at me.”

The corner of Buffy’s mouth curled up. “I know what you mean.”)

Faith’s not big on the mall, but at least she’ll be able to keep an eye on Buffy, and it’ll be safe. There are no pools, no Jacuzzis, and definitely no oceans there. All the same, she disappears into Dawn’s room to stash a few of her more discreet weapons on herself before they head out. ‘Always be prepared’ isn’t only for Boy Scouts.

Accompanying Buffy as she returns a pair of jeans, Faith manages to relax a little bit, although she keeps a sharp eye out for any bursting pipes or surprise sinkholes that may lead to pools of water. Faith almost thinks they’re going to get out of this unscathed. Then she sees it. 

Located at the absolute center of the mall, large enough that its spray is taller than the railings lining the second floor corridors, the sight of the fountain fills Faith with absolute terror. Buffy continues walking, obliviously scanning the storefronts for anything that catches her eye. Faith sees no other way around it; she moves quickly, walking close to Buffy’s left side and putting herself between Buffy and the fountain. 

Buffy glances at her, confused. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Faith says quickly. “I just, uh, why don’t you let me carry those for you?” She plucks the shopping bags from Buffy’s hand, transferring them to her left. “Are you hungry?” She asks, seizing Buffy’s now empty hand. “I’m starving. Let’s get a pretzel.” Without waiting for a response, she begins towing Buffy away from the fountain and in the general direction of Auntie Anne’s. 

Faith’s expecting that at any moment, Buffy will ask her what the fuck she’s doing, but instead she laughs. “We just ate!” Buffy protests half-heartedly, but she lets herself be pulled along, distance growing between them and the fountain. 

Buffy doesn’t seem in a hurry to release her hand, which is fine by Faith. Keeping one hand on Buffy at all times might actually give her heart a break from racing with anxiety. She stays glued to Buffy’s side through the line and on the bench where they sit to eat their pretzels. Faith takes them a different way back, giving the fountain a wide berth. 

She doesn’t fully relax again until they’re back at HQ, takeout boxes on the counter in Buffy’s little kitchen, Buffy padding around her in socked feet as they gather plates and flatware.

They take up opposite sides of the small dining table wedged into the corner of the kitchen, containers open between them. Buffy nudges over a box of golden brown fried cakes. “You have to try these.”

Faith takes one. “What are they?”

“Clam cakes,” Buffy says. “So good. Here.” She hands over a smaller container with lemon wedges and tartar sauce. 

Shrugging, Faith squeezes a bit of lemon over the cake and forks off a bite. She’s expecting something like a crab cake, but this is different. More a fritter, less meaty. “Pretty good,” she says, in between bites.

“I know,” Buffy says. “They’re going to close over winter, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive.”

They split the rest of the clam cakes, and Faith feels her body resetting as she eats. Energy in, anxiety out.

Buffy starts in on her entrée, salmon and rice, taking a few bites before she stands up. “You want some wine?”

She’d prefer an IPA, but seeing as Buffy’s never been much of a beer drinker, Faith doubts that’s a possibility. She nods. 

Buffy moves around the kitchen behind her, and Faith resists the urge to turn around and watch her. After a moment, a glass of chilled white wine is set down beside her. 

Taking her glass back to her own seat, Buffy sits down. “Cheers?” She offers, holding her glass out. 

Faith lifts hers, tapping Buffy’s glass lightly. “Cheers.”

The wine is decent, not too sweet, and Faith takes another sip before she goes back to her food.

“So,” Buffy says at length, “you aren’t seeing anyone?”

Surprised, Faith looks up from her plate. “No,” she says, giving Buffy a questioning look.

“Right,” Buffy says, “yeah that makes”—she cuts herself off, shaking her head—"Last I heard you were dating someone. Cassidy?”

“Casey,” Faith corrects. “That was a while back. Surprised you heard about that.” 

Buffy shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Colleen and Kennedy email, I guess.”

“About my love life?” Faith snorts. She was only seeing Casey for a few months. She wouldn’t have figured that would make it onto the list of interesting tidbits to report.

“I guess,” Buffy says. “Will told me about it.”

“The Scooby information train’s alive and well,” Faith says, with an eye roll. “Coll hasn’t been sharing anything juicy about you guys with me.”

“Nothing juicy to share really,” Buffy says, gathering some rice onto her fork. She chews, a thoughtful look on her face. “You ever miss what it was like when we were younger? Before all this?”

“You mean before or during prison?” Faith asks dryly.

Buffy’s face flushes red. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

Feeling bad, Faith says, “Hey, no. I’m just kidding. I think I know what you mean. It was easier in some ways.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, nodding. “I mean, I’m glad we don’t have to stop every apocalypse with just two of us, but at the same time—”

“Slaying wasn’t meant to be a team sport?”

“That, and ‘teacher’ was definitely not my result on the career aptitude test.”

Faith leans back in her chair, pleasantly full, wine glass in hand. “Well, sure, teachers have to actually attend all their classes and not cut out.”

A crumpled napkin flies directly at her face. “Excuse me?” Buffy says, faux outraged. “Several of the times I cut were your fault.”

“Several?” Faith scoffs. “I don’t think so. I didn’t even meet you until your senior year. Didn’t you get expelled before that?”

It looks like she’s trying to come up with a way to refute this, but Buffy’s got nothing. Finally, she huffs. “Fine, I was doing pretty good on my own, but you did not help my reputation at all. You remember Scott Hope?”

It takes a second before Faith can place the name. “Short dude, ditched you for Homecoming.” She grins. “I told the chick he brought that he had VD.” When Buffy looks shocked, Faith asks, “You didn’t know about that?”

“No!”

“The dude dumped you right before the dance! He needed to learn a lesson.”

Buffy smiles into her glass before she takes a sip. “It’s starting to make a lot more sense why he told everyone I was gay.”

It’s Faith’s turn to be surprised. “He did? Why?”

“Well,” Buffy says, “I thought maybe it was because you showed up around the same time, and I kept flaking on him to do slaying stuff. But now I know you also humiliated him. Maybe he thought we were dating.” 

“Hey now, I defended your honor purely out of friendship.”

Buffy raises one eyebrow.

“I did!” Faith protests. Mostly. 

“Well, then thank you,” Buffy says. Her face is pink, probably from the wine. It looks very cute on her. 

“You’re welcome,” Faith says, getting to her feet. “Anybody else been mean to you lately? Want me to beat ‘em up?” She starts to gather their plates and utensils.

Buffy’s grinning as she hands Faith her plate. “I’ve got a list,” she says. “Starting with Dawn.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of your weird sister drama,” Faith says over her shoulder as she heads for the sink. “Plus, she’s a biter. Who else you got?”

“Kennedy.”

“What’d she do?”

“She’s Kennedy.”

“Point taken,” Faith says. “Okay, I’ll do it, but you have to avenge me when Red sets me on fire or something.”

“This is becoming a vicious cycle,” Buffy says, sidling up to her elbow with a stray spoon that didn’t make it into Faith’s collection. 

“Guess violence really isn’t the answer,” Faith says. “Who’d have thunk?”

“Damn,” Buffy says. “It’s like my whole life’s been a lie.” She hip checks Faith gently. “I’ll do the dishes.”

The idea of Buffy interacting with water long enough to do the dishes immediately douses Faith’s good mood. “I got it,” she says quickly. 

Buffy doesn’t put up a protest, just nods and disappears to clear up the boxes on the table. Faith begins washing the dishes efficiently, keeping a careful eye on the water coming from the faucet. There’s nothing weird about it—yet. She’s concentrating hard, and Buffy suddenly reappearing at her side takes her by surprise. 

She reaches up, gathering Faith’s hair and tucking it down her back. Then she drapes a dish towel across her shoulder. Her hand skims down Faith’s back when she’s done, too obvious to be unintentional. 

Faith blinks. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” Buffy says, her mouth curving into a little smile. 

Now she has two things to concentrate on. At any moment this faucet could begin spewing blood or talking to them like something out of a goddamned King novel, but Buffy—was she—is she flirting with me?

Faith manages to finish washing their (thankfully few) dishes and setting them in the drying rack. She washes her hands, drying them on the provided towel, before she turns around to see Buffy pouring them each a generous refill. 

Holding the end of the dishtowel, Faith flicks it at Buffy, hitting her lightly across one thigh. “You trying to get me drunk?” She asks, leaning her hip against the counter. 

Buffy pours a little extra in one of the glasses, then gives her a mischievous look. “Of course not,” she says, lifting the glass and holding it out to Faith. 

She is. She’s flirting with me, holy shit. Faith takes the glass, their fingertips brushing. Before she can say anything else, a jaunty little tune begins emitting from somewhere in the apartment. 

“I should get that,” Buffy says, sounding disappointed.

“Okay.”

As Buffy goes to hunt down her cell phone, Faith takes a large sip of wine. Buffy—Buffy—the frequent subject of Faith’s wet dreams and her nightmares—is flirting with her. What the hell is going on?

When Buffy returns, her smile is gone, a frown in its place. “That was Dani,” she says. At Faith’s blank look, she clarifies, “She’s new. Kind of having trouble adjusting, so I was happy she was going out with the others tonight, but now apparently she’s drunk and she wants to come home right now. I have to go get her.”

“The girls won’t bring her back?”

Buffy sighs. “They all got a ride from one of the kids they hang out with, and there’s only one boat, so—"

“Wait,” Faith says, feeling like the ground’s just dropped out from under her, “boat?”

Buffy waves her hand, tucking her cell phone in her pocket and starting toward the front door. “Yeah, there’s an old house on one of the islands. The local kids all—”

“Island?” Faith repeats, hot on her heels. “They’re on a fucking island?”

“Well, yeah,” Buffy says distractedly, “so are we, technically.” She’s bending down, sliding her feet into her sneakers.

Faith immediately starts doing the same. There’s no way in hell Buffy’s getting in a boat without her. “How are we getting there? Do you guys have a boat?”

“No, but I know someone who does,” Buffy says. She straightens up, reaching for the jackets hanging beside the door. “You don’t mind coming with?”

“No,” Faith says, trying to sound normal in spite of the fact that she’s beginning to freak out. “We’re supposed to be hanging out, right? So we’ll hang out on the boat.”

“Great,” Buffy says happily, holding out her jacket.

XXXXX

“Thanks so much for doing this,” Buffy tells the tall man leading them through his darkened back yard. 

Introduced to Faith as Tom, the man owns the property adjacent to the slayer headquarters. Unlike HQ, Tom’s property apparently directly borders the bay and has its own dock. “It’s no problem,” Tom says in a gruff voice. “All the work you’re doing for those girls… you let me know if there’s anything you need. I’m glad to help.”

Faith glances at Buffy questioningly. Buffy winces and mouths, ‘Orphanage?’ before shrugging.  

The idea that the neighbors think Buffy and co are running a group home for disadvantaged girls is almost enough to make Faith laugh. Or it would be, if she didn’t feel like she was staring down the barrel of Buffy’s watery demise. 

They follow Tom down onto the metal dock where his boat waits. It looks nice—not that Faith knows anything about boats—and she’d probably be really into this if it were 1) daytime and 2) not potentially leading them into a demonic trap. As it is though, the sight of the boat makes her feel vaguely nauseous.

“Thanks, Tom,” Buffy says, climbing into the boat when Tom opens the little gate for her.

Personally, Faith would like to clobber Tom for the crime of having a watercraft he’s willing to let Buffy onto, but she manages to flash him a tight smile as she clambers in. As soon as Buffy’s seated on a bench facing the rear of the boat, Faith’s right beside her. 

As Tom begins untying the boat from the dock, Faith takes a deep breath and tries to count to ten. She makes it to six before panic overtakes her again. They’re in a floating tin can, about to leave solid land with miles of dark water between them and the baby slayers. She’s imagining everything from a Kraken style attack to Buffy being jostled over the side due to high speed reckless driving courtesy of neighbor Tom. The man’s wearing khakis and boat shoes without socks, so he doesn’t exactly scream danger, but you never know.

Beside her, Buffy reaches over and puts a hand on her arm. “You okay?” 

Faith nods automatically. “Five by five.”  

Buffy doesn’t look particularly convinced. “Do you get seasick or something?”

Seasick—that’s another way it could happen. She could lean over the side to puke and just slip in and—

Buffy’s hand closes over hers. “You wanna stay here?” She offers. “You don’t have to come.”

“No,” Faith says immediately. “No, I’m good. Really.” She grips Buffy’s hand, somewhat belying her statement. 

“Okay,” Buffy says doubtfully. 

Oblivious to Faith’s internal screaming, Tom makes his way to the helm and starts the boat, the engine rumbling to life. They begin to slowly move away from the dock, and Faith turns her hand, locking her fingers with Buffy’s tightly. Shit shit shit.

Tom guides them into open water and starts north. Behind them, the lights of the Jamestown Bridge reflect on the surface of the bay. The rusted remains of a lighthouse sit in the bridge’s shadow, a vestigial messenger from before even the old bridge was built. Faith watches as the lights grow smaller, the lighthouse quickly swallowed by the dark. Buffy and Tom make stilted small talk while Faith spirals out, wondering how cold the water is, and why she didn’t remember to get all of her weapons before they left. She’s only got her ever present ankle blade and the stake that lives in the inner pocket of her jacket. “Are you a strong swimmer?” She asks Buffy suddenly. “I mean—do you go boating a lot?”

“I’m not bad,” Buffy says, not seeming to find the question odd. “What about you?”

“I can swim,” Faith says. “Don’t do it a lot, but I can.”

“We’re not going to sink,” Buffy says lightly, nudging her shoulder into Faith’s, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I wouldn’t be so sure. “Right,” Faith says. 

Buffy gives her a sympathetic look. “You doing okay?” 

Faith nods.

“You look chilly.”

“Little bit,” Faith agrees. There is a chill in the air now that they’re gliding along a little faster, but mostly she’s cold from the dread that’s growing inside her. 

Buffy slides across the seat until her hip is pressed to Faith’s. “We can huddle for warmth.”

“Thanks,” Faith says, managing to give her a small smile. This presents a pretty good excuse for keeping ahold of Buffy, so Faith releases her hand for long enough to snake her arm under Buffy’s and then take it again. There, that’s a little more secure. 

Buffy’s thumb gently rubs across her knuckles. “Sorry we had to go on a rescue mission,” she says. “I was having fun with you.”

Faith glances over. Buffy’s eyes are big and luminous in the dark, meeting Faith’s gaze squarely. The band of panic around Faith’s chest loosens for a moment as they look at each other, replaced by a familiar flutter in her stomach. For a minute, she could be 17 again, looking at Buffy through floating vamp dust, their eyes locked, Faith’s hands itching to touch her. “Me too,” she says, her voice soft.

“I know you’re kind of freaking out now,” Buffy says, equally quiet.

“I’m not freaking out.”

Buffy squeezes the hand that’s clutching hers and gives her a pointed look. Okay, so maybe she’s not really keeping her cool. 

“Let me take your mind off it?” Buffy suggests.

“How are you—” 

Buffy’s mouth covers hers, soft and warm. 

Faith’s brain grinds to a complete halt, and she’s frozen a moment, long enough that by the time she catches up, Buffy’s sitting back, a shy, pleased look on her face. 

Blinking, Faith says, “Uh, I—”

“Almost there!” Tom calls from the front of the boat.

“Prudence, Patience, Hope, and Despair,” Buffy mutters, turning so she can peer through the darkness ahead.

“What?” Faith asks, still trying to catch up from Buffy kissing her and now startled by the cryptic talk.

“It’s a nursery rhyme about the islands in the bay,” Buffy says. “Prudence, Patience, Hope, and Despair, and little Hog Island, over there.” She points right. “Or maybe it’s over there,” she says, looking left now.

“Patience?” Faith repeats, massive alarm bells going off in her head.

“Yeah.” Buffy looks at her curiously. “That’s where the party is.”

Faith’s heart feels like it’s in her throat. “We can’t go to Patience,” she says, repeating it louder when Buffy doesn’t seem to hear her. “B, we need to turn around! We can’t go to Patience!”

Now she has Buffy’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been having these dreams,” Faith says, talking faster as the island begins to take shape in front of them. “You’re there, and there’s water, and you drown. Sometimes we both do, and—”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asks. “Like slayer dreams?”

“I don’t know,” Faith says, gripping Buffy’s arm for dear life. “I think so. And it’s here. It’s gotta be here. You can’t get off this boat, Buffy, we have to turn around.”

Buffy frowns, glancing toward the water as Tom pulls back on the throttle. She leans in closer, lowering her voice so they won’t be overheard. “But the dream could be about Dani or one of the girls then.”

Faith shakes her head. “It’s only ever us.”

“It’s not like slayer dreams are an exact science,” Buffy says. “We can’t just leave them here. They might be in danger.”

“I don’t think they are,” Faith says. Everything in her gut tells her she’s right about this. “I think it’s about you.”

A rickety dock emerges in the glow of the masthead light. Faith’s heartbeat pounds in her ears. 

“Is this why you came down this weekend?” Buffy asks. Her eyebrows are drawn together in concern. 

Faith nods. 

“And that’s why you wanted to spend today with me?” 

“Yeah,” Faith says. “I told Giles about it and he’s looking into it, but I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

There’s a gentle bumping sensation as the boat coasts slowly beside the dock. “We’re here!” Tom calls back to them.

Buffy’s beginning to look upset. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” Faith says. “I didn’t want to freak you out if it was nothing.”

Nodding, Buffy says, “I get it.” Then she gets to her feet.

“B, you can’t—”

“I have to get the girls,” Buffy says, her voice hard and determined. Faith is well acquainted with Buffy’s Head Slayer voice, and it grates on her even more this time than usual. 

“Fine,” Faith says, standing beside her, “but we stay together the whole time. I’m serious. We get the girls; we stick together; and we leave.” Her annoyance at Buffy’s whole ‘my way or the highway’ schtick helps block out the otherwise paralyzing fear. 

“We stick together,” Buffy agrees, and together, they climb out onto the dock. 

XXXXX

“Buffy!” Faith screams, trekking through the overgrown brush covering Patience Island. Behind her, Dani struggles to keep up with Faith’s iron grip on her wrist. “Where the fuck is she,” Faith hisses, mostly to herself. “Buffy!”

Apparently, ‘sticking together’ was too complicated of a plan. They’d walked to the house together. Maeve and Jen were easily located, both tipsy and snuggled in the house’s formerly grand living room with pimply faced boys that were apparently well known to Buffy, who just sighed and told the girls to head for the boat. Heading up the decrepit stairs to search for Dani and Satsu, Buffy insisted on taking the second floor while Faith searched the third, promising to meet her on the stairs immediately after. It took Faith less than two minutes to search the entirety of the third floor, and she hasn’t seen Buffy since. At this point she’s as furious as she is scared.

“Buffy!”

“Faith!” 

Faith stops abruptly, shining the flashlight she swiped off Tom’s boat in the general direction of the voice.

Satsu appears through the trees, out of breath and flushed. “Faith!” She calls again, looking relieved. “Buffy told me to find you!”

“Where is she?” Faith asks, already moving again.

Satsu points back the way she came. “She went to get Dani. We heard her calling for help.”

Faith’s eyes close in dismay. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“But I’m right here!” Dani peeks over Faith’s shoulder.

“But,” Satsu says, confused, “we heard you calling.” 

“Show me where she went,” Faith says. 

Nodding immediately, Satsu turns and heads back into the trees. Faith looks back at Dani. “Keep up,” she says.

Dani nods, her eyes large and afraid. 

Faith releases her arm and follows Satsu into the trees. As the three of them jog along, Faith has to hope that Satsu has a better sense of direction than she does. There are no easy landmarks she can identify, just dense trees and high, thorny brush that tears at their clothes. She can hear Dani behind her, her feet clumsily following Faith’s, as Faith herself tries to keep up with Satsu. 

She’s beginning to think they might be lost when the trees suddenly break, and they spill into an open area well-lit by moonlight. 

“She came this way,” Satsu says anxiously, swiveling her head for any sign of Buffy. “Where did she go?”

“Buffy!” Dani calls, sounding half hysterical at this point.

They aren’t just in a clearing. They’re on a beach. Ahead of them, a small, dark lake stretches out, ominously licking at the muddy shore. Faith’s flashlight beam lands on something white. 

Sneakers. 

Faith drops the flashlight at her feet, unzipping her jacket. 

“What are you doing?” Satsu asks, as Faith strips the sleeves off and lets the jacket fall. 

Without answering, Faith yanks her boots off. She seizes the flashlight again and runs toward the water. 

“Faith! Wait!” 

She doesn’t have time to explain. Faith reaches the water’s edge and charges in. It’s icy cold, taking her breath away immediately. Her feet sink into the muddy lakebed, slowing her down. Faith gives up on walking, diving into the frigid water, letting it cover her head, and starting to swim. It’s not a large lake, but the cold makes her limbs slower. The flashlight beam swings wildly underwater, illuminating nothing but spindly seaweed as Faith forces her body to swim harder. 

There’s no way of knowing where Buffy might be, so Faith just goes on instinct, taking a deep breath when she’s a reasonable distance from shore and submerging. Forcing her eyes open, she ignores the sting of the water. She points the flashlight straight ahead and kicks. 

She stays under until her lungs are burning, moving further and further toward the center of the lake. When she can’t take it anymore, she propels herself upward, breaking through the surface with a gasp. 

Sucking in greedy breaths, Faith spins in a circle, looking for any disturbance in the quiet water. She sees nothing. “Buffy!” She yells again, hoarse now. 

There’s no response. 

On the shore, Satsu and Dani stand in the mud, shouting for her to come back. 

Ignoring them, Faith sucks in another breath and sinks down. Almost immediately, she hears it. 

thump

The sound pierces through her panic. She knows what it means. Something is waiting, deep in this lake. It wants Buffy. Wants Faith too probably. 

thump

Faith grits her teeth. Not today, motherfucker. She plunges downward, teeth clenched so they won’t chatter, powerful limbs slicing through the murky darkness. 

Down, down, and her heart races, fear and cold and adrenaline mixing as she fights her own buoyancy. 

There’s an end in sight, her flashlight beam picking up disturbed silt floating in the water like fog. She spins now as she swims, her lungs starting to ache in her chest, looking for a flash of blonde hair or the thick shape of a waterlogged coat. 

Every way she turns, she sees nothing, until finally, she spots a glint of metal on the lakebed. 

thump thump 

Faith stops swimming, looking up. It’s black overhead, the moonlight not strong enough to filter down through the water. She takes a last desperate look around, but there’s no hint of Buffy. 

I’ll dive again, she thinks, starting to kick for the surface. I’ll find her.

From below her, a wave of cold reaches her feet. 

Thumpthumpthump

Faith swims harder.

Something grasps her legs, hard and tight, yanking her downward fast enough that she loses her grip on the flashlight. 

Faith kicks out, flailing, trying to shake herself free. Her feet pass uselessly through the water, the grip of her unseen assailant only strengthening. It’s like the water itself is pulling her down. 

The flashlight bounces soundlessly against the silt before Faith is dragged down to meet it. Her chest burns, pressure building in her head as she fights. 

thumpTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

The light illuminates the metal fully, and Faith can see it now: the box from her dreams, larger than she remembers, rust flaking free and floating in the water around it. Each resounding THUMP hits her like a blow, and the box cracks open, more darkness spilling out and spreading through the water. 

The darkness covers the box, then the flashlight, then Faith, until all she can see is black. All she can feel is cold, in her ears and her eyes. Then it’s in her nose, rushing down her throat, spreading through her chest. 

It’s excruciating, and she can’t help but gasp, more dark water filling her mouth. She kicks once more, feebly now, sluggish, her panic receding.

Faith’s head rolls back, looking again at the surface. It’s brighter now, warm and soft and reaching for her. 

Oh, she thinks, there you are.

Faith closes her eyes.

XXXXX

Pain: pounding in her head, pushing down on her chest, holding her limbs hostage. It’s all encompassing. 

She gags, and hands tug at her. Liquid rushes up her throat, and she’s retching it out, warm and salty, from her nose and her mouth. Her body’s wracked by heaving, involuntarily twisting in on itself. 

“You’re okay,” someone says firmly. “Take it slow. You’re okay.” There’s a gentle hand on her neck, pressing into her pulse. It moves to her back, rubbing in circles. 

“I’ve got her. Satsu, you have the light?”

“Yes.” 

“Let’s go.” 

She’s being lifted, and Faith groans, the motion hurting everywhere. 

“I know,” the same voice says. “I know it hurts, but I have to get you out of here.”

Her head lolls against a firm shoulder, cold wet fabric under her cheek. “B?”

“I’m here,” Buffy says from above her. 

“Oh,” Faith says, exhausted. “Okay.” 

The pain in her body wins, and she’s out again.

XXXXX

NOVEMBER 1st

All in all, her trip to Jamestown hasn’t gone as badly as it could have. Sure, she drowned. And sure, she got CPR from three slayers, two of whom were too panicked to be mindful of their strength. Sure, she feels like she went over Niagara Falls sans barrel. Twice. But she’s alive. And Buffy’s alive. 

Apparently non-fatal drowning can have many unpleasant after effects. Her attempts at insisting she’s fine are met with a stony look from Willow’s healer friend who’s been put in charge of her care. Introduced to her as Amélie, the woman is half magical healer, half nurse practitioner, and all business. Faith has been hooked up to an IV, with bag after bag of things she can’t pronounce trickling into her veins. She grumbled about that but she’s not entirely sure if Amélie’s threat of magically restraining her was a joke or not, so she leaves it alone. 

Giles comes by to let her know what he’s learned. “It sounds like it was a Nepyolin. They’re relatively rare demons—very intelligent. They can mimic human voices, so that’s probably how it’s been claiming its victims.”

Faith nods tiredly.

“Buffy was able to wound it just enough to get you free. We’re going to need to go back with Willow’s help—”

“—weren’t the first victims. There have been quite a few disappearances around that island dating back to—”

“—if you hadn’t warned her, she probably would have gone in. You might both have died.”

“G,” Faith interrupts, when it’s clear she’s only getting half of what he’s saying. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Of course.” Giles comes closer and pats her shoulder gently. “I’ll explain everything when you’re feeling up for it.”

Faith’s pretty sure she already has the gist: demon in the lake enjoys drowning humans for sport. Still she says, “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” he says lightly. “You kept our girl safe.”

Faith has some thoughts about his phrasing, but she’ll reserve those for later too. She sleeps through most of Tuesday, waking again in the afternoon to find Kennedy sprawled in a chair beside her bed. 

“What time’s’it?” Faith asks, her mouth oddly dry for someone so recently drowned.

Kennedy sits up straight, glancing over. “Almost four. Took you long enough to wake up. I’ve been bored out of my mind.”

Not dignifying that with a response, Faith waves her hand at the pitcher of water on the table next to the bed.

Kennedy gets the hint, pouring her a glass and dropping a bendy straw into it. She holds the glass steady for Faith as she takes several long swallows.

Faith sighs, lying back against the pillows again before she glances at Kennedy. “You’ve been waiting for me to wake up?”

Shrugging, Kennedy says, “It’s Samhain. Willow’s busy with her Wicca stuff. Plus, I’ve been waiting to hear all the deets.”

“Not much to tell,” Faith says. “Demon held me under. I tried to breathe water. It didn’t work.”

“Not about that,” Kennedy says, sounding exasperated. “Who cares about that?”

Faith, whose heart feels like it hasn’t quite figured out how to beat correctly again yet, very much cares about that, but she rolls her eyes. “What deets then?”  

“Lehane,” Kennedy sighs dramatically. 

How does Kennedy even know her last name? She doesn’t think Buffy and the super friends do. “What?” Faith grumbles.

“The date!” Kennedy exclaims. “How was the date? Other than the almost drowning thing?”

“Uhh,” Faith says, confused, “what?”

With an incredulous look, Kennedy says, “You and Buffy?”

Faith’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. Was she unconscious for longer than she thought?

“It took you long enough to ask her out,” Kennedy says, oblivious. “I mean, it was so obvious how bad you guys had it for each other—”

“Wait,” Faith tries.

“All that passion!” Kennedy continues, gesticulating freely now. “The ‘enemies to lovers’ vibe... watching you guys interact—”

“Wha—”

“—like, get a fucking room already but—”

“What?!” Faith practically yells now, finally stopping Kennedy in her tracks.

The volume makes Faith’s chest hurt. And her throat. And her head. She closes her eyes, pressing her unencumbered hand to her chest for a moment. 

Kennedy kindly waits until Faith feels less on the verge of death. Then she leans forward and asks, “You didn’t know you guys were on a date?”

“We were not on a date.”

“Well, she thought you were.”

“We didn’t even go out.”

“Yeah,” Kennedy says slowly, as if talking to a child, “but you said you wanted to stay here and talk, just the two of you.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Then, you told Satsu she couldn’t stay home and that you’d keep Buffy occupied for the night.” Kennedy snickers. “You basically took a fire hydrant to that little torch she’s carrying for Buffy.”

Okay, well, when she puts it that way…

“You also told her to cancel her date for you.”

Well, shit. “I asked Buffy out,” Faith says, slightly dumbfounded. And that was before the potential brain damage.

“Sure did.”

“And she said yes.”

“Sure did,” Kennedy agrees again.

Fuck.

Fuck. This was not the plan. She came here to keep Buffy alive and figure out what these damn dreams meant, not hook up with her. 

But… It does explain some things. Like that little kiss on the boat, which is just now working its way to the forefront of her mind again. 

“Fuck.”

“Hey,” Kennedy says, reaching over and patting her arm gently, “you can fix this. Just work the sympathy angle. You did almost die trying to save her.” Kennedy pauses, considering. “I mean, she wasn’t actually in the water, but I think it still counts—”

“Ken,” Faith cuts in, very calmly and very quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to go find Buffy for me.”

Kennedy hops to her feet. “On it. What should I say?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

Eyes gleaming, Kennedy says, “Faith’s lapsed into a coma. Again.”

Faith sighs.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it for real.”

“Thank you.”

While she waits, Faith tries to stay awake. She’s moderately successful, or at least she thinks she is, until she suddenly blinks back to awareness and realizes the sun’s gone down. “God damn it, Kennedy,” she mutters to herself, trying to throw back the covers. She succeeds only in partially uncovering one leg. 

She’s pretty sure that one of the medications making its way through her body is a pain reliever, which at least aids in her ability to wriggle from under the blankets, but by the time she’s gotten all the way out, she’s shakier than ever. Faith sets her bare feet on the floor and reaches for the rolling IV pole, using it to steady herself. 

Her head swims as she stands. Amélie had specifically warned her about having trouble regulating her blood pressure, so it’s not exactly a surprise that the change in position would make her dizzy. Faith gives herself a moment, closing her eyes and willing herself not to fall over.

“Faith?” 

Buffy’s at the door, frowning at the scene before her: Faith out of bed, holding herself up using the IV pole, pale as a ghost and shaking to boot. “What are you doing?” Buffy rushes across the room, carefully wedging a shoulder under Faith’s arm to hold her up. “Why are you out of bed?”

“Needed to see you,” Faith manages, although she’s starting to see black spots in her vision.

“Get back in bed!” Buffy says, gently manhandling her backward. “I didn’t fight a lake monster so you could crack your head open at home and bleed out!”

“I fought it first,” Faith says, her voice only a little breathless. “Thought it had you.”

Buffy softens slightly. “I know,” she says. She succeeds only as far as getting Faith seated on the bed again. “I would have jumped in if you hadn’t warned me. I really thought it was Dani yelling for me.”

“At least one of us was smart enough to avoid the trap,” Faith says dryly.

“Shut up,” Buffy says, giving her the world’s tiniest shove. “You thought I was drowning. I’m kind of glad you didn’t stop to ponder it.” She sits down beside Faith. “Are you okay? Kennedy was weirdly vague about why you needed me to come right away.” 

“I’m okay,” Faith says, in spite of the near death experience, “but I, uh, remembered something.”

“About the demon?” Buffy asks.

Shaking her head, Faith says, “About before. When we were on the boat.”

“Oh.” Color rises in Buffy’s cheeks. “The boat was—you were really nervous, and I just wanted to—” 

“You kissed me,” Faith cuts in, giving her a searching look. Why did you kiss me?

Buffy’s eyes widen, then she squares her shoulders and raises her chin. “Yeah, I did. I thought we were having a moment—the whole night I mean. I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

Faith’s mouth curls in amusement. “B,” she says, shaking her head. Buffy seriously thinks she made things weird? 

“What?” Buffy asks, her bravery wilting a little. 

Faith reaches for her hand, pulling it gently into her lap. Buffy looks down at their hands before giving Faith a confused look.

“Do it again?” Faith asks.

She can hear the slight hitch of surprise in Buffy’s breath, then a wide smile spreads across Buffy’s face. “You’re recovering.”

“So?” Faith asks. “My lips work.” She says it lightly, like she’s not still waiting for Buffy to laugh and tell her this was all a big misunderstanding. 

Buffy hesitates. “But you said you only wanted to hang out yesterday because you were worried about the demon.”

“I was worried about the demon.” 

Big hazel eyes search her face. Buffy looks like she’s still waiting for something. Faith thinks about last night in the kitchen, Buffy’s hand sliding down her back; Buffy being brave and taking small steps toward her. Sliding her free hand up Buffy’s arm, Faith settles it against the side of her neck. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” Buffy says. She leans into Faith’s touch.

“Kinda been wanting that since the day we met,” Faith says, and there, it’s out. Her longest held secret that was never much of a secret to anyone except Buffy.  

Buffy shakes her head a little, like she finds that hard to believe. “With a break around the time we were mortal enemies?”

“No,” Faith says, because she’s already come this far. “I wanted you then, too.” She leans in closer. “I always wanted you.”

Buffy kisses her then, carefully, just a brush of her lips over Faith’s. Faith barely gets a chance to respond before Buffy sucks in a shaky breath and says, “You’re not dosed out of your mind on painkillers right now, are you? Because—”

Faith cuts her off with a kiss, ignoring the twinge in her ribs as she leans closer. She curls her fingers into Buffy’s hair and chases the softness of her mouth. Buffy makes a little sound, high and surprised, and so fucking cute that Faith’s heart gives a little lurch that has nothing to do with dysrhythmia. 

Recovery be damned, Faith reaches for her, clutching her hip, trying to pull Buffy closer, trying to get more of those noises and her mouth. Buffy gives it, turning toward her, her hand hot on Faith’s thigh through the shorts she’s wearing. 

Her breath is quick against Faith’s cheek, her lips eager. Faith forgets about the soreness she still feels and the persistent ache in her lungs. None of that stacks up to kissing Buffy, being kissed by Buffy. 

Faith’s hand is in her hair, the heat of Buffy’s neck against her palm. She doesn’t want it to end.  

Buffy seems to feel the same. She tries to slip an arm around her and accidentally hits the IV line. Faith hisses in pain.

“Shit!” Buffy says, pulling away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Faith says, although her arm is smarting pretty badly. “I’m good, come back.”

Buffy gives her a stern look. “No, no more kissage until you get the all clear.”

The sound that leaves Faith’s mouth can only be described as whining, but she isn’t even embarrassed about it. Getting to kiss Buffy and then having to stop kissing Buffy—that’s cruel and unusual punishment.

“Stop being so cute,” Buffy scolds, standing up again. “I’m not going to get busted by Amélie, no matter how adorable you are.” She holds up the corner of the blankets. 

Sighing dramatically, Faith slides all the way under. “Will you at least keep me company?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “Scoot over.”

Faith does, and Buffy sits on the narrow bed with her, shoulder to shoulder. Faith waits until Buffy’s comfortable, then she gives her a curious look. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but uh, you wanting to kiss me—that’s kind of a new development.”

Buffy flushes. “Not that new.”

“Meaning…?”

“It’s been a little while,” Buffy says evasively. 

“Come on, B, I showed you mine.”

Looking dismayed already, Buffy says, “Remember before we moved here, when we were still figuring out where we would go?”

Faith raises an eyebrow. 

“You stayed with us those first few months, and we were training a lot, and I just… yeah.”

Faith kind of gets what she’s saying. Spending all that time together definitely didn’t help Faith deal with her Buffy crush. It was one of the reasons she decided to go back to Boston. Still, she wants to hear Buffy say it.  “You just…?”

Buffy takes a deep breath. “I started thinking that maybe all the stuff you used to say when we were kids wasn’t just you messing around,” she says. “Like maybe you and me—that wasn’t such a crazy idea.” She gives Faith a small smile. “And when you asked me to hang out this weekend, I thought maybe we were finally on the same page, you know?”

“Yeah,” Faith says softly, “I know.” She leans into Buffy’s shoulder. 

They’re quiet for a moment and then Faith asks, “When we were kids? You mean when I was flirting with you, like, every day?”

Buffy nods.

“Of course I meant that,” Faith says plainly. “I did everything but rent a sky writer to write, ‘Buffy, do you like Faith? Circle Yes or No.’”

“Okay, well,” Buffy starts, defensively, “I was young and naïve and you—you know what, go to sleep! You’re supposed to be resting!”

Snickering, Faith closes her eyes. “Remind me to tell you about some of my dreams when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“You were naked in a lot of them.”

Buffy sighs, but it sounds fond somehow. Faith grins to herself. 

She’s just drifting off, lulled by the warmth of Buffy’s body next to hers, when she hears Buffy whisper, “Faith?”

“Mhmm?”

“I’d circle Yes.”

Faith smiles without opening her eyes. “About time.” 

When she falls asleep, she doesn’t dream.