“So, Lehane, huh?”

The two girls stood in Buffy's kitchen as they watched the oven, waiting for its beep to signal the arrival of the hot, Italian food.

“Don't even start,” Faith said after taking one look at Buffy.

“What?” Buffy asked innocently, the coy smile forming on her face more a result of Faith's reaction than the name itself. “I like it.”

“Yeah, right. It's lame.”

“Oh please. Like Buffy is so much better.”

Faith smirked. “When did I say that?”

“Ouch,” Buffy said, feigning a hurt expression. She pushed the oven timer to reveal there were only a few minutes remaining before turning her attention back to Faith. “I've gotta say though, you were working the whole first-name-only thing pretty well there. Very mysterious.”

“Well now you know, I guess it's lucky I've still got all my wily charms to fall back on.”

“Wily charms you say? You really are good at keeping secrets.” That was enough to earn her a soft elbow in her ribs.

Faith began to pace as she looked about the room, though it didn't take long before she found something of interest. “What happened to your wall?” she asked. “Staking vamps not doing it for you anymore?”

Buffy watched as Faith poked at the edge of the depressingly obvious hole. “Oh,” she said, only then remembering she'd meant to find something to cover up the damage. “There was a small accident?” Buffy saw the grin that was forming on Faith's face, and she remembered the earlier accusation. “And if you want to eat, you'll choose your next words very carefully.”

“Wasn't going to say a thing.“

“Yeah, I bet.”

“But now that you mention it, we're not gonna be eating plasterboard are we?”

Buffy grabbed the tea towel hung by the oven and flung it at Faith. “You're lucky I'm such a gracious host, or I'd stick you with the washing up.”

The food was ready shortly later, and the two of them quietened as they sat down to eat. It didn't take long before Buffy's mind found its way back to the docks. She realized that for all the demons she'd killed she couldn't picture the eyes of a single one of them when they had died. Quentin was different though. His desperate look came to her easily, and the thought of what she could have done – had almost done – made her feel queasy. There was a certain amount of anger that came with the job – sometimes the fire was necessary to keep going – but she didn't know she was capable of such rage, and if she was honest, it scared her.

“I don't think it's gonna fight back now, B.”

Buffy looked at Faith questioningly, the words making little sense in her head. Faith nodded down, and Buffy looked at the lasagne on her plate. The bulk of it was still there, only now it was ridden with trios of small holes. Though more aware of what she was doing, she still brought her fork down through the top layer of cheese one more time before letting the utensil fall to rest on the plate. “I guess I'm not that hungry,” she said absently. “Want some more?”

Faith shook her head even though she was well on the way to devouring all of her food. “It's really good though. Your mom's like Barbara Lynch, only I can actually afford to eat here.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed half-heartedly. She had no idea who that was.

“Heated to perfection as well,” Faith added, and even though the sentiment was ridiculous, it still brought a small smile to Buffy's face. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Just stuff.” Stuff she was in no particular hurry to discuss. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

----------

“Oh come on, why would you even do that?” Buffy asked. “You're blatantly going to die if you go in there.”

Her and Faith sat in the dimly lit living room watching the start of some cable horror film they'd agreed upon. Or at least Faith had agreed upon and Buffy had merely relented to. However she'd take any distraction she could get over the worries of real life, and after initially forcing herself to pay attention she found herself getting into it. She was perched at the edge of the sofa as a severely under-clothed teenage girl let herself into a creepy looking house in the middle of the woods.

She looked over to the armchair when she didn't get a response. Faith was sunk down into the back of the seat as she stared at the TV. Or more accurately, as she stared through it, her glazed over eyes not reacting to the movements on the screen.

“Earth to Faith.” Faith looked over, confusion showing on her face. “You still with me over there?”

“I'm watching.” She looked back at the TV.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buffy asked after a few moments.

“Nothing's really happened yet. Looks like this chick is about to get it though.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” Buffy said softly as she watched for a reaction. There was none to be seen; Faith's fascination with the film seemed to have increased exponentially. “Faith. I get what you're going through because I've been there too.”

That was enough to get Faith's full attention. "What?" She shuffled about in the chair until she was sat facing Buffy. "How?"

Buffy paused for a moment as she deliberated whether it was really a story she wanted to share. It was something she'd sooner purge from her mind than think about, but it was also hard to overlook it given Faith's current predicament. Faith had also perked up from her near comatose state and was now watching her intently. Hoping that it might help Faith, Buffy decided to carry on. “The council. On my 18th birthday they – well, long story short, it turns out there's a test for any lucky Slayer who makes it that far. You have to fight a vampire one on one, the catch being you don't get to use your powers.” She let out a short, humourless laugh as the detailed memories came flooding back. “And so they just took them away.“

Just thinking about it stirred up anger in the pit of her stomach, She'd nearly killed Quentin earlier that night, but he'd nearly done the same to her. Not to mention her mother. She knew an eye for an eye may not have made it right, and that the Cruciamentum hadn't even crossed her mind at the docks, but it still helped her to feel a little less ill.

Faith looked at her with a wide-eyed disbelief. “And you agreed to that?”

“I didn't exactly have a whole lot of say in the matter.”

“Then how? Magic?” Faith didn't wait for a response. “Those slimy, little bastards. Think they can do whatever the hell they want.” Buffy looked back at the TV, regaining her interest in the blonde girl who slowly made her way through a corridor in the poorly lit house. “What?”

Buffy licked her lips, trying to moisten them, and she suddenly wished she had a glass of water in reach. “Giles,” she said finally. She kept her gaze locked on the screen, but she could feel Faith's eyes on her. “He – he injected me with a drug. Some sort of muscle relaxant. The effects were only temporary, but I didn't know it at the time. It felt like...” Like a part of her had been cruelly torn from her body, thrust aside to leave nothing more than a scared, broken shell. She didn't have to say the words; she had no doubt that Faith was feeling the same way right then.

Faith's sudden movement drew her attention, and she looked over to find the girl sat up straight, her enraged eyes narrowed. “That son of a bitch.”

“No, Faith. It's not like that.”

There was a pause as Faith's brow furrowed. “God, don't tell me you're OK with it?”

“Of course not.”

“Really? Because last I saw him, he still looked in pretty good shape.”

“He made a mistake.” Faith's sudden outburst of anger had taken Buffy by surprise, and she wasn't sure how she'd ended up on the defensive.

Faith's laugh was an incredulous one, and chilling enough to make Buffy involuntarily tense up. “No, a mistake is sending you out after some demon with the wrong slay pack. What he did was betray you, and who's to say he won't try it again next time he needs his kicks?”

“He won't. I trust him.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Faith scoffed. Her arms had already become more and more animated as the conversation had progressed, and now she was up on her feet. “How can you trust someone who poisoned you?”

“It's not that simple,” Buffy managed, not knowing what else to say. Feeling intimidated from being down under Faith's accusatory gaze, she also rose to her feet. She was in far from the right frame of mind to handle the oncoming anger, and she could feel the tears beginning to form. She quickly ran her hand across her eyes, trying to mask the motion by following on to push her hair back from her face.

There were a few moments of silence as Faith watched her, and Buffy appreciated the respite, using it to try and wrestle her emotions back under control.

“It's exactly that simple. Either you can trust someone or you can't, B. There ain't no middle ground.” Faith's voice had softened, and that helped Buffy to relax a little. “If she'd have tried something like that on me, I swear...”

Initially caught in confusion, Buffy played the conversation back in her head until the the pieces fell into place. “Your watcher?” she said, more in confirmation to herself than as a question to Faith. “You've never talked about her.”

“What's to talk about? She's gone. Nothing's gonna change that now.”

Buffy regarded her softly. “That doesn't mean you don't miss her.”

“If she was going to pull that shit then I'm glad she's dead.”

“Faith!” Buffy couldn't keep the shock from raising her voice. “I know you don't mean that.”

Buffy heard the loud scream from the TV, but it wasn't enough to shift her attention. The steam had left Faith's sails with her last outburst, returning her to a more passive state. When it became obvious that no reply was forthcoming, Buffy risked pressing further. “There's no shame in missing someone. She was an important part of your life.” It was only a guess, but Buffy remembered how distressed Faith had been when Kakistos showed up, and it didn't seem like a stretch to assume her and her watcher were close. “And maybe she would have done the same thing to you, but you don't know, maybe she wouldn't.”

“Don't you get it? People are all the same. When it comes down to them or you, they'll turn on you in an instant.” There wasn't any obvious anger, the words spoken as if simply fact.

“Sometimes, maybe,” Buffy agreed. “But I've found that sometimes people can surprise you, if you give them the chance.”

“The Scoobies? Always got your back, right? Must be nice.”

“That's not who I meant.”

Faith shrugged. “Who then?”

“You could have taken the easy way out tonight. You could have sided with the mayor, and who knows, maybe right now you'd be living it up in a fancy apartment without a care in the world.” Buffy slowly shook her head. “But you didn't. You put yourself on the line. You took a chance on me, and I won't ever forget that.”

There was a slim smile on Faith’s face as she tilted her head down. “Careful. I'm sure there's an amnesia demon out there just dying to prove you wrong,” she joked.

“I'm serious, Faith. You've shown me that I can trust you, and that means a lot to me.”

It took a moment before Faith's gaze flicked back to her. “Well you made it an easy choice.”

Buffy didn't believe that it had been all that easy, but as far as she was concerned that made the decision all the more meaningful. "Come on," she said, smiling as she sat back down and patted the free space next to her. "I'm sure there'll be a bus chock full of teens showing up to be slaughtered any minute now." Faith obliged, slouching down beside her. "Ooh," Buffy said excitedly as she glanced over to the TV, "in fact here they are now."

“You're kinda scary, B,” Faith said, her single raised eyebrow questioning Buffy's sanity. “Guess I'm lucky you're on my side.”

----------

Buffy ruffled around in her drawers to find spare towels and pyjamas, and she dropped the bundle of materials into Faith's arms along with a spare toothbrush. Faith took one look before wrinkling her nose. “They're pink.”

“So?”

“So don't you have anything a little less Princess Peach?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “There's nobody here to see you, so it'll be tough, but I think you might just make it through the night alive.”

“Fine,” Faith grumbled. “But if you tell anyone...”

"Your secret's safe with me," Buffy assured her, trying her best to keep a grin from her face. She knew full well that she had more neutral pyjamas somewhere, but she couldn't resist getting Faith back for the earlier jibes. "I'll be back up in a bit. I just need to sort something out." Faith nodded, and Buffy headed toward the hallway.

"Hey, Buffy."

The words stopped her before she'd made it out, and she turned, lingering in the doorway. "Yeah?"

“Thanks.”

“Just remember, they're strictly loan only. Don't get any ideas about taking off with them.”

“No. I mean...” A flicker of emotion flashed across her face, barely giving Buffy enough time to even register it before it was gone. “For not giving up on me.”

Buffy smiled at the other girl. “Good night, Faith.”

Despite what she had told Faith, Buffy had no intention of going to bed any time soon, and instead she headed to the dining room. There she grabbed her bag from the floor, unzipped it, and shook the contents out on to the dining table. After spreading the stack of books she'd taken from the library out across the surface, she sighed as she took in just how much reading material there was.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,” she said out loud, settling on a dark grey book with an etching of a tri-horned demon on the slightly beaten-up front cover. She took a seat and then flipped the book open straight to the back few pages, frowning in disapproval when she didn't find what she was looking for. “Right,” she complained, “because who'd want an index when reading the whole thing could be such a barrel of laughs.”

Going back to the beginning, she set to work though, skimming each page as she looked for a reference to the Shards of Ursula or something else that might help Faith. She figured a front to back scan probably wasn't the quickest way to find what she was looking for, but she wasn't exactly sure what else to do. She seldom joined in on the group research sessions, and the beginning seemed as good a place to start as any.

Two hours had passed before she'd come to the end of the book, and all Buffy had gleamed was that she never wanted to come face to face with a Shnerdll demon – not that she'd really call that thing it had a face. Her eyes were reaching the stage that followed shortly after tired, and it was starting to become difficult to keep her more frequently fluttering lids from closing completely, but she shoved the book away in disappointment and pulled another one in to take its place. “Morek's Codex of Mysticism and the Arcane. God, Giles, don't you ever just shop at Walmart?”

----------

“Mom?” Buffy asked through bleary eyes, trying to blink herself awake. “What are you doing here?”

“Very funny, dear. I know I've been gone for a few days, but this is still my house.” Joyce bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

Buffy looked around, taking in her surroundings. She quickly realized she wasn't at the school library. “Oh, right. Sorry. Still in the not-quite-there-yet phase of the waking up.”

“Are you feeling OK?” The palm of her mom's hand rested on her forehead for a few seconds. “Well you don't have a temperature. What are you doing sleeping at the table?” Joyce closed the book Buffy had used as a makeshift pillow. “The Memoirs of Litvus?”

Buffy firmly pulled the book away from her mom and bundled it into a pile with the others before leaning her elbows on them. “Psychology books. For college. You can never be too keen, right?” She smiled enthusiastically.

“I guess not.”

“So how was your trip?” Buffy asked, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, the usual. There was art.” Joyce started sifting through the pile of mail that had amassed over the past few days. “Actually, there was this one really nice painting. 19th century. Pre-Raphaelite. I almost bought it myself, but the asking price was ridiculous.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Buffy said, getting a sideways look but no reply from her mother. She ran her hands over her face, and then up to push the dangling hair back, before letting out a tired groan. “I think it's time for bed.”

“It's nine in the morning, Buffy. How about some pancakes though? I bet they'll wake you right up.”

Buffy grumbled her disapproval. She wasn't sure what time she'd finally lost consciousness, but she knew she'd made her way on to book three before she'd found something that looked relevant. By that time she didn't have the energy to make her way upstairs – or even to the sofa. She couldn't deny that pancakes sounded like they had potential though.

“Well isn't that sweet,” Joyce said. Buffy looked over to find her mother's eyes on an unfolded A4 letter.

“Isn't what sweet?”

“The mayor. He's throwing a party to celebrate the towns anniversary, and we're both invited.”

“What?” Buffy practically shouted, shooting to her feet, the remnants of her drowsiness quickly cast aside. She grabbed the letter straight out of her mom's hand.

“Buffy!”

She quickly scanned over the words, an uneasy feeling rising up from her stomach. It was scheduled for the following night and personally addressed the Summers' household. “No. Mom, you cannot go to this.” She shook her head emphatically.

Joyce gave her a questioning look. “Why ever not?”

“It'll be boring, for one thing. All those politicians talking about... politiciany things. And - and hedge fund workers. Nobody likes those.”

“Don't be silly. I'm sure it'll be good fun. Besides, I never get out of the house for anything other than work.”

“Mom, please,” Buffy begged.

Joyce watched her carefully for a moment. “Buffy, what's going on?” Buffy didn't respond, only continuing to stare, and Joyce let out a sigh. “This is a vampire thing, isn't it?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh Buffy.”

Buffy had heard her mother use the same tone before. Whenever slaying came up in their conversations it was bound to surface soon after. She always wondered if it was disappointment, and that hurt more than she was ever willing to let on. “Just promise me you'll stay at home.”

Joyce stared at her for a moment before letting out another sigh. “OK, OK,” she reluctantly agreed. “But what's going to happen to everyone else who gets invited?”

Buffy swallowed hard. She knew exactly what would happen to them. “I don't know,” she lied, her voice a low whisper.

“Maybe I should warn people,” Joyce declared, turning and heading for the hallway.

“What?” Buffy said, quickly following her mother out. “No. You can't. What would you even say to them?”

“I'll just tell them it could be dangerous and – and that they should stay away.”

“Oh sure, because that won't raise any questions. Hey, why don't you tell them to check the yard for vampires as well?”

“There's no need for that attitude, young lady.” Joyce picked up the phone, but Buffy grabbed it from her hand before she could dial a single number. “Buffy--”

“I'll handle this, OK?” Her mother looked like she was ready to argue further, “I promise, I won't let anyone get hurt, but you have to let me take care of it.”

Eventually a short nod signalled her mom's resigned acceptance, and Buffy returned the phone to its stand. “Thank you.”

“Faith.” There was a hint of surprise in her mom's voice.

“Faith?” Buffy repeated before turning to find the girl in question stood halfway down the stairs, dressed in her clothes from the previous day. “Oh. Faith. Err, she slept over. Is that OK?”

“Of course, honey.” She looked over to Faith. “You're welcome here any time.”

“Thanks, Mrs Summers,” Faith said.

“I was just about to whip up some pancakes. Would you like some?”

“Sure thing.”

Buffy waited until Joyce moved through into the kitchen before she made her way to the dining room with Faith in tow. “I see you survived then,” Buffy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, echoing her matter of fact manner. “In the end I just slept naked.”

“You did what?” Buffy said, turning to face the girl as her eyebrows shot up. “In my bed?”

“Relax. I'm just teasing.”

Buffy shook her head at Faith's Cheshire grin. “You are so not house trained.”

Faith shrugged. “Like you've never done the same.”

“First of all, we're not talking about this. But if we were, I'd tell you that me naked in my bed and you naked in my bed are two completely different things.” She felt her face start to redden and rushed onward. “I mean not that I have, or that I would, a-and didn't I just tell you we weren't talking about this?”

Faith laughed as she moved over to the dining table. She opened the book on top of the stack and flipped backward through the pages, much too fast to pay particular attention to any of them. “I thought your mom wasn't back until tonight?”

“So did I,” Buffy replied, relieved that the conversation had moved on.

“Well what'd she have to say about your interior destruction? She seemed cheerful enough then.”

A knowing frown materialised on Buffy's face, and she tentatively looked around toward the direction of the kitchen.

“What in the world,” came her mother's shocked voice.

“Uh-oh.” Buffy's eyes widened in fear. She shoved the stack of books from the table into her bag and then grabbed Faith's arm. “Time to go.”

“Buffy!” her mother shouted, sounding none too impressed.

“Gotta go, mom. Bye,” she called back as she dragged Faith through the hallway and out of the house.

“But pancakes, B,” Faith protested, looking back over her shoulder toward the front door.

“I'll buy you some on the way,” Buffy said as she hurried them both down the driveway and away to temporary safety.