" Ya know, B. Sittin' in a cemetery, all weepy and sad, never was such a good idea. Got me?" The voice was one she'd never forget. Smoky and deep, raspy just in the right places from cigarettes. The brunette perched on the gravestone in front of the blonde. Her half curled hand hanging limply between her knees, forearms resting on her thighs. Buffy looked at her with something like a frown, as if wondering why the brunette was bothering her now, while she was mourning. Faith smirked, as she always did, and made some casual motion with her hand, indicating towards the tear streaked blonde Slayer. Buffy swallowed her choked sob, while the dark Slayer talked. "Com'n. S'not worth getting' killed over. Lem'me walk ya home, ya will feel better in the mornin'."
"Faith, just leave me alone.— Please." Buffy almost pleaded, as she choked back another sob, hand whipped angrily at the tears flowing down her cheeks. She didn't want to cry in front of the brunette, she didn't understand why Faith was here. Hazel eyes raised, and pinned darker hues in a gaze. Pleading.
"No can do, B. Someone's got'a make sure ya don't get ya self killed." The brunette replied, with a sideways smirk, no longer looking at the blonde, but over her shoulder. At the rows upon rows of grave. Finally, Faith asked, "Why're ya cryin' B?"
"That's what you do when someone you love died, Faith" The answer sounded as if it was so very obvious, Buffy ran fingers over the name on the tombstone. This wasn't her first visit here, but for some reason, today made it seem much more real. "You mourn for them, because you love them."
"That seems twisted to me, B." Quipped the brunette, "I don't wan'cha to cry. Can't ya just say goodbye, and move on."
It sounded like a request that had been spoken many times before. But each time it had fallen on deaf ears; every night, for a year now. Buffy would come to this very spot, and break down; every night, she would trace the name on the tombstone, and whisper her mourning. Every night, Faith would find her, and watch over her, until the blonde would shuffle home.
"I don't want to say goodbye, Its— its, too soon." The blonde whimpered, as a new round of tears. "I never said I was sorry, I couldn't save—…" She began to cry harder, as the brunette awkwardly sat in front of her. This was one of the worse nights. Buffy seemed deaf to her pleas.
"B."
She didn't get a reaction.
"Buffy."
Hazel eyes look upward, and towards the smiling brunette.
"I forgive you, B. I have for months." The brunette smiled, a genuine expression, as her dimples showed. Standing up, she tilted her head to the side, running her hand across her stomach, and the horizontal slash in the fabric that was there. She turned around, and walked into the cemetery, leaving the blonde behind with her forgiveness and her mourning. Buffy sniffled, and stood up; a small smile, across her lips. Hardly radiant, hardly joyous. But it was a start. One last look, before she turned around, and headed in the opposite direction as the brunette.
Behind her, the tombstone stood erect and polished. The message was simple;
Faith Lehane; 1983 -1999; Half of the Chosen Two