Disclaimer: All BTVS characters, settings, and whatnot are Joss', not mine, thanks for asking.
Setting: Season Four. This is sort of my alternative universe version of things - it branches off after The Initiative, and goes it's own way from there.
Notes: Any deviations from the canonical 'way things work' are mine; let's pretend they're intentional and innovative. Thanks to Erica for her great beta and essential moral support!
Feedback Please? But try not to make me cry.
Wherever she was, it was dark. Damn dark, in fact; the kind of dark that makes you touch your face to make sure your eyes are open. She did that now, feeling her lashes brush against her fingers as she blinked. It was smothering her - as if right there, out of reach, there were walls, cutting off the light. The air. She reached out with awkward hands, probing for the walls; gently at first, then with more abandon. She couldn't move - or maybe she could, and she just couldn't tell. Either way, she felt nothing, heard nothing. She tucked her hands into her hair, joining them at the back of her head and wrapping herself in the warm surety of her own arms. Enough, she thought. Okay, whatever's going on, I've had enough of it. Fury boiled up inside of her, and she bit down on her lower lip, welcoming the pain. "Enough," she said, quietly, and then again, louder: "Enough!" It made her feel better, a lot better, and she drew in a mighty breath.
"Enough!" she yelled, stamping her foot hard. Something cracked beneath her, began to give way. Dropping both arms to her sides, she balled her hands into fists and leapt into the air, trying to come down as hard as she could with both feet. When her feet reached the floor, there was nothing there; she was falling hard and fast. But at least she was moving - at last!
Faith wrapped her arms around her head and prepared for landing.
***
** "I'm sorry, did you say it was a Kittycat demon? Quick, fetch the giant ball of yarn!"
Giles squinted at Buffy over the tops of his glasses. "Maybe if you weren't so occupied with your fashion magazine, you'd have heard me the first time."
Buffy gave Giles a look, lifting the hefty magazine and shaking it at him. "Hello? Vogue Spring Preview here; it's not just any fashion rag. It's five hundred pages! And only four hundred are ads." Her attention was recaptured by an unfolding pullout display. "Oooh! Acid wash is coming back."
"Spring? It's November," Giles responded, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I think it can wait. And no, I did not say kittycat, I said K'lickitat; it's the rather unpleasant sewer-dwelling demon which you will be tracking tonight. And finally," he said, replacing his glasses firmly, "Acid wash is never coming back. Not if there's a god."
Buffy murmured in response, unable to tear herself away from the magazine. Giles considered dancing around the room with a lampshade on his head, just to see if Buffy would notice. Deciding it would only make him feel foolish, he rose to make himself a cup of tea instead. The phone rang as he stepped away from his desk.
"Hello?" Giles listened for a few moments, then nodded to himself. "Yes, I see. Thank you." He placed the receiver gently in its cradle, and turned to face Buffy. Absorbed as she was in her reading, it was only a few moments before she registered the change in Giles' demeanor. Her head snapped up from the two-page spread of the hottest shoes for spring, and she fixed her gaze on him.
"What now?" she asked cautiously.
"She's awake."
Buffy took a moment to ponder that news. Despite the dire prognosis given to Faith by the doctors, Buffy had always known this day would come. The prodigal healing power of a Slayer, combined with unlimited time connected to a feeding tube, almost guaranteed that Faith would eventually heal enough to awaken. What would happen next, Buffy had not considered. Now, though, she was suddenly grateful. I'll get a chance to undo it, she thought, as she idly riffled the edges of the pages. This time, everything will go right.
"Buffy?" Giles prompted. He was surprised when she slapped the magazine shut and tossed it casually on the floor as she stood up. She pulled her pink jacket off the back of the chair and shrugged it on. "Where are you going?"
"The hospital," she answered, not looking Giles in the eye. "You want to drive?"
He shook his head slowly as he watched her cross to the door. "I don't think that's a good idea. In fact, I'm quite sure it isn't. Or do you not remember the last time you and Faith saw one another?"
Buffy glared at him. "Yes, I do; do you remember that I'm the one who put her in the coma? Besides," she added, "we can't just leave her there alone. She doesn't have anyone else, Giles. We may not be her friends, but we're something. And we can't expect her to get better if we just ignore her." She stood by the door, her hand on the knob. "So, you coming?"
"Get better?" Giles was looking at her as if she had started speaking in Swahili. "By that, do you mean, 'become a good person'? Buffy, Faith is far down the path to irretrievable evil; she's certainly well beyond any simple help you could offer her. Sit down, and I'll call the Council. She's their problem - maybe they can help her. At least they should be able to keep her from hurting anyone else." He reached out a hand to her, but she shied away from his touch.
"Yeah, that's a great idea, the Council did such a good job with her last time. And since when do you work for them? I thought they didn't let you play in their reindeer games." Before Giles could answer, Buffy opened the door onto the cool night air. "Look, you can do what you like, but I'm going to go check on her. It's the least I can do." With that, she slipped out and shut the door quickly behind her.
Giles sat back down in his chair, considering the books and papers spread across his desk. He, too, had known this would eventually happen; that Faith would wake up and have to be dealt with. Though he was not a Watcher, he had promised that he would notify the Council when Faith awoke - it certainly suited his purposes to have her off his hands. He had hoped that Buffy would see the rightness of that decision, but she clearly did not. Stubborn as always; he sighed. "My own fault," he said to himself. "Should have been more strict with her." He smiled at that, remembering his early efforts to bring order to Buffy's life. She was headstrong, but it suited her well.
Still, she was mistaken if she thought she could do anything to help Faith. Giles reached for the phone, fumbling in his desk drawer for his address book with the other hand. It was appalling that he had allowed himself to forget the Council's number, no matter how long he had been off the job.
*****
At least I got a private room, Faith thought to herself as she glanced around the tiny space. Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, she swung her feet slowly back and forth, reveling in their motion. At first, moving had made her feel awful, like she was sea-sick, and she had stayed still while the doctors had fussed over her. They had been surprised when she had first come to, and they were absolutely shocked at her coherence and apparent full recovery. After they had checked her over more times than she cared to remember, asking foolish questions and poking her in awkward places, they had scattered, probably to each claim credit for her miraculous recovery, she thought. Fine; they were welcome to say whatever the hell they wanted. She just didn't want to get stuck when the next wave of doctors came to confirm the observations of the first. Carefully, she set her feet on the cold linoleum floor.
"Gotta get some clothes," she muttered, looking down at her wrinkled paper dress. Slowly, she crept towards the door and poked her head out. Medical personnel of all types crossed and recrossed the hall; there was no way she was getting out the front. Moving more confidently, she went to the window. Second story, no bars - perfect. She flicked the lock and shoved the window open, leaning out into the breeze. She inhaled deeply, a smile crossing her face. "Free at last."
"You're pretty lively, all things considered." Faith's smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. She turned slowly, trying to appear casual as she leaned against the windowframe for support.
"Well, I'll be. Oh, wait; you're B." Faith looked the other Slayer up and down. Pink jacket, pink cheeks from the wind; the very picture of health. That figured. Bitch. Faith smiled slowly. "You're the last thing I saw before I went to sleep, and you're almost the first when I wake up. People will say we're in love."
Buffy took a few cautious steps into the room. "I just wanted to see if you were okay," she said, stopping a few feet away from Faith. Recovered Slayer or not, Faith looked like hell. Her hair hung in clumps around her face, and dark circles ringed her eyes. She had lost weight; this thin girl was only a distant cousin to the muscular woman Buffy had fought six months before. I could snap her in two without breaking a sweat, Buffy thought, and then wondered if that had shown on her face.
Faith crossed her arms in front of her and gave a snort of laughter. "You think I might not be okay? Goodness, B, I wonder why you might think that? Could it be because the last time I saw you, you put a knife in my gut?" She stepped away from the window and approached Buffy, until the two were only inches apart. At this distance, Faith could smell Buffy's clean-scrubbed scent, and hoped that her own hospital-bed odor would shame the other woman. "I need to thank you, Buffy; without you, I wouldn't have had this lovely six-month nap. It's really done wonders for my complexion."
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "It hasn't done much for your memory. You seem to have forgotten that you brought this on yourself. Nobody made your choices for you, Faith. You could have done the right thing at any time. Maybe you still can."
Amazing, thought Faith. How stupid can one woman be? Quickly, she cut her eyes away from Buffy, looked down at the ground, and tried not to smile. She took a breath and glanced back up, allowing her exhaustion to drag the corners of her mouth down, and slumping her shoulders slightly.
"Look, B, I know," she paused for a moment, then continued. "I know we're not friends, and we never will be. But no matter what, we're both still Slayers. I can't stay in here. The doctors are having orgasms over my recovery, and any minute they're going to come swarming back in here with all their little doctor friends. Who knows what they'll do to me to figure out how I work?" She turned and walked back to the bed, resting gently on the edge. "I need to get out of here. I need your help." Faith looked at Buffy, brown eyes into blue. "Hell, I'm way too tired to be trouble." She gave Buffy a small smile. "Please? I think I've been here long enough."
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know what you expect me to do. None of the others are going to want to have anything to do with you, and even if Giles...well, I can't take you there either. And I can't exactly put you in my pocket for safekeeping. Just stick it out here - you need the rest, and they won't do anything really horrible to you, I'm sure. At least, nothing permanent." Faith grabbed the thin hospital pillow and pulled it to her chest, digging her chin into it hard, but she said nothing. For a few long moments, the two Slayers were quiet.
Finally, Buffy sighed. "All right already; God, you're pathetic! I've got a little money; we can stick you in a motel until I figure out what to do next." Faith's smile was brilliant as she hopped off the bed.
"Excellent, B, I knew you'd come through for me. I mean, you sort of owe me, right?" Buffy frowned at that, and Faith put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Okay, okay. I'll pay you back, I promise. I'd better go out the window, and I'll meet you outside." She moved with assurance towards the window, throwing one leg easily over the sill. "And we'll have to get me something to wear. Something not pink," she called back to Buffy as she disappeared out the window.
The blonde Slayer glanced down at her jacket as she left the hospital room. "Just because some people can't wear pink, they have to be snide." She tucked her hands into her pockets as she headed for the stairs. Buffy hadn't actually thought that Faith would be quite ready to leave the hospital, let alone be eager to take help from her old enemy, but once again, Faith had surprised her.
"I hate surprises," she said to herself as she pushed the exit doors open.
*****
The steam from the shower had fogged up the cheap mirror over the bed, and was collecting in the corners of the dingy room when Buffy returned with some clean clothes for Faith. She set them down on a chair and perched gingerly on the edge of the double bed. The shower stopped running, and in a few minutes, a clean and happy Faith popped out of the bathroom, one ratty motel towel stretched around her body, and another in one hand.
"I don't think they took very good care of me in there, and I don't think they gave me many sponge baths. I mean, look at me - I'm three shades paler now that I washed the dirt off. You should get your money back." Faith scrubbed her hair energetically with her towel as she picked through the clothes on the chair.
"I didn't pay for it. I suppose the Council did." Buffy watched the other girl wrinkle her nose at the selection of clothes, and finally settle on a dark halter top and pair of jeans.
"Nice of them. Remind me to send them a card," Faith replied, dropping both towels and tugging the top over her head.
"You can thank them in person," said Buffy, and Faith froze, having just pulled up her jeans. She looked completely surprised for a moment, then the expression on her face shifted to anger.
"You turned me in to the Council? God, what were you thinking? That's the worst thing you could have done to me; well, other than kill me. Which you already tried, and failed at." Faith grabbed the wet towels off the ground and walked back towards the bathroom. "The Council - brilliant, B. They're going to stick me in a dungeon somewhere and 're-educate' me until I'm some pathetic little tea-drinking wimp, some pet Slayer that they can wrap around their finger. Well, they can go to hell - and so can you." Faith wheeled around and slung the towels at Buffy, who blocked them with a quick hand.
"Look, Faith, I didn't call the Council, Giles did. And maybe that was the right thing to do. What else are you going to do? You can't stick around here, the police are after you. I may look helpful, but I'm the only one - nobody else wants to have anything to do with you. And frankly, you really don't deserve to be walking around free, after what you did."
Faith laughed. "After what I did, Pollyanna? What about you? You're the one who tried to kill me! You're the Slayer who made nice with the vampire, that's got to be number one on the Slayer list of sins. But you get to prance around Sunnydale with all your little pals, and nobody bothers you!" Faith pointed at Buffy, her slender arm shaking with anger. "Don't you tell me what I deserve, Miss Perfect. You don't know anything about me."
Buffy stood. "Oh, don't I? Well, I know you're a murderous, traitorous lunatic who pissed away every good thing that ever happened to her. I tried, we all tried to help you; oh, but Faith was too cool for us. Faith could take care of herself. You did such a great job at it, too. You buddied up with a demon and tried to take over the world - and you sucked at it, by the way! How much more of a loser could you be?" She picked up the leftover outfits from the chair and held them protectively to her chest.
Faith leaned against the bathroom door frame. "Thanks. No, really, I feel a lot better now." Buffy lowered her arms a bit, but did not move. "Look, B, I just needed a hand, and then I planned on leaving town. You're right, I don't have anything here now. Why stick around? Just turn your back, and I'll be gone."
Buffy gave an exasperated sigh and walked to the door. "It's not that easy, Faith. You can't just run away from your past. It sticks with you, trust me. Besides, I think the Council might consider you a priority, now that you're awake and all. They'd make it a point to find you." With one hand on the doorknob, she turned back to the other woman. "Sorry there's no shoes, but you're not my size."
"Who needs shoes? Besides, I bet the Watchers will come with a nice little schoolgirl wardrobe all picked out for me, the sick bastards." Faith plunked herself down on the bed and looked up at Buffy. "I guess they're on their way?"
Buffy nodded. "To Sunnydale, at least. I talked to Giles while I was getting you clothes, and he had already called them, but he didn't know you had left the hospital. He's probably updated them by now. Are you going to stick around?"
Faith lay back on the musty bed, moving her arms back and forth against the spread like she was making a snow angel. "For now, I guess. I don't really feel up to getting hunted down by rabid Watchers. Anyway - when was the last time I tried to do something that actually worked? Ooh, unless..." She sat upright again. "Is Angel dead?"
The door to the room slammed hard behind the blonde Slayer, and Faith grinned. "Something I said?" She bounced to her feet and regarded herself in the now-clear mirror. "Not bad, baby, despite the poor nutrition. Dammit, forgot to ask her for food money. Oh, well," she sighed, heading for the door. "There's got to be someone out in this big, bad town who'll take care of poor Faith." Energy surged through her, and she stretched luxuriously before she opened the door.
"Hello, world. Miss me?"
*****
Clouds had started to gather as Buffy trudged back to Giles' apartment. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the breeze was picking up, blowing leaves down the dark streets. Ahead of her, a man hurried across the street, collar turned up against the cold. Buffy scooped up a stone from the curb and shied it at the man, hitting him squarely in the back.
"Ow! What the hell..." Spike turned to see Buffy coming up behind him. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"I didn't feel like yelling. What are you doing out?" The two fell into step as they continued down the street.
"Getting a bite to eat." Buffy grabbed Spike's arm and spun him to face her. "Relax, would you? I broke into a butcher's shop. Degrading, I know, but a man has to feed." He yanked his arm out of her grasp and walked on. "What about you? Off slaying poor innocent demons in their beds?"
"Just dealing with an old problem," she replied, catching up to the vampire. Though he had been 'fixed' by the mystery lab, rendering him unable to do harm to others, Spike was still a worry to Buffy. She did believe that he was physically harmless, but he could easily become a danger in other ways. Now, however, he had struck an uneasy truce with the Slayer and her companions: one of enlightened self-interest on his part, and a certain amount of squeamishness on theirs. Killing Spike in a fight was one thing, but staking him when he couldn't fight back was just...sad.
Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and offered it to the Slayer, then shook one out for himself. "Anything I can help with?"
"Help? Did you just offer me help? This has been the weirdest night,"
Spike grinned as he lit his cigarette. "Don't take it personally. It's just that I'm so damn bored. Can't go out much because the commandos are hunting me, can't get my own place because I might get caught during the day. Hell, I can't even go into a bar and pick a fight anymore. It's tragic."
"I could put you out of your misery," Buffy offered.
"Would it make you feel better?" he asked sympathetically. She nodded enthusiastically. "Then, no." Together, they turned into the courtyard of Giles' building. Rain was beginning to fall as Buffy opened Giles' door and was followed by Spike into the apartment.
"You just left her there?" asked Giles, peering up from his book.
"Fine, thanks, and you?" Buffy flopped down on the couch, earning a glare from Spike, who shook his wet coat onto the floor and tossed it over the back of a chair before sprawling in it himself. Giles opened his mouth to respond, but Buffy cut him off. "Yes, I just left her; you expected a sleepover? She's not going anywhere tonight."
"And she gave you her very solemn promise on that?" he asked, getting to his feet and coming around the couch. "Because if she did, then I guess we have nothing to worry about."
"Who's 'she'?" Spike asked, idly kicking at the leg of the coffee table. Buffy put her head in her hands.
"Nobody you need to know about. Giles, if you had seen her...I mean, she's a mess. She doesn't have any money, anyone to run to; she doesn't even have any shoes! She's just..." Buffy trailed off, looking up at Giles.
"Nicer? Safer? Saner?"
Buffy shook her head at those.
"No, just different. Still angry, still needing the attitude adjustment, but not the same." Buffy rested her chin in her hands and stared across the room. "I can't help thinking, what if it were me? What if I was the Slayer-come-lately? Second best. I know, I know," she said, as Giles shook his head slowly. "It would have been different for me. But still...anyway, I don't think she's going anywhere tonight."
"Well, that should be enough. The Council is sending someone right away to deal with the situation." Buffy grimaced at his choice of words. "I assume you told her that the Council had been contacted?"
She nodded. "She was angry, no surprise there. But I told her they'd hunt her down if she ran, and that seemed to make an impact. The longer she has to think about it, though, the more likely she'll take off. When should someone be coming for her?"
Giles glanced at his watch. "I'd say...right around now."
*****