Buffy rolled over, looked at the clock, and groaned. Way too early. And no way she was going back to sleep. She went over to the window seat and looked out into the early morning. Or was it late night? Wired, she felt as though see for miles, every silvery blade of grass, all the demons of Cleveland waiting for her. See all the way to New York City.
Well, maybe not that far. She didn't need to see Faith, anyway, to know she had been there in the dream and was awake now. Not to go all American Tale, but they were probably looking at the same bright star. Without all the singing. And just a little more baggage. But just a tote now, or maybe a makeup kit's worth of baggage. They were working on it. Which of course, was the helpful thing about distance.
And the less helpful thing about slayer dreams that go muddying the waters with dancing, and slaying, and beds, and growling.
God, she needed to slay something!
Throwing on some clothes and shoes, her stake secure in her waistband against the small of her back, she crept out of the house and ran.
In the Big Apple, Faith was looking at that same bright star as she sat up in her bed, though not thinking about any Disney movies. Instead, she thought about the blonde slayer who had been so close to only moments before. They'd been there before. Before another of Faith's fuck-ups.
Least I wasn't bleeding all over B's sheets this time. Finally stopped twisting that knife.
Not exactly hugs and kisses, though. They trusted her enough to send every smart-mouthed chick from a bad home her way, so she wasn't going to fuck it up. But the Chosen One could still get a stick up her butt. Exhibit A: rallying the troops for the battle with the First. So Faith knew she was smart to get outta Dodge, be that distant cousin slayer you see at family reunions. Being around B just made it a little too easy to fall into old habits.
Course maybe she's changed. Sportin' the leather, after all. Dead giveaway.
Won't say she didn't do it justice. Always been a nice perk of the gig...all that slaying gives a girl a nice ass, yours truly no exception.
She shook her head. Slayer dreams just weren't her thing. She didn't have a G-man to decode them for her, and had always been surprised the slayer in her wouldn't be a straight talker. From what she'd picked up from the Scoobs, slayer chick was less on the mysterious shit and more into the growling, like B's bed.
Which reminded her that she never did get to slay whatever was under there before she started awake. Poking her head in to check on Ang, and reassured by her heavy breathing, Faith slipped out to find a demon to kill.
Giles was surprised to see a familiar face downstairs that morning. As nocturnal fighters, slayers weren't usually early risers, meaning that, even in a houseful of young women, Giles could usually count on a quiet morning with a cup of hot tea and the paper. And he knew Buffy was no exception to the slayer rule, having more than once seen her come down, growling for coffee when he was already three hours into his books.
But this morning he found her up with the sun, awake and staring thoughtfully into the early morning light from her chair on the deck. He knew she must have heard him come down, and sure enough, she swung her head around to smile in at him as he puttered with his tea. He watched the girl—no, woman, he corrected himself—who was, for all intents and purposes, his daughter. The blonde out there, with her feet propped up, watching the sky, was a far cry from the girl he'd first met so many years before in the library, though Buffy's destiny had given her a certain gravitas even then.
Now, most afternoons, he could find her in the training room leading the new slayers in exercises meant to harness their raw power. While she still left most of the "Watchery stuff" to him and Dawn, she was a leader to those girls—the subject of their devotion and even a little crush here and there. A far cry from the authoritarian impulses that stress and depression had driven her to in her battle with the First. No doubt several still chafed under her maternal eye (and how could Giles but smile that she'd picked up a few of his meticulous tendencies after all those years of seemingly-ignoring him!). But so long as Willow made sure that Faith brought in the—how did Buffy once put it?—zestier slayers, things seemed to be working out just fine.
His tea ready, Giles tucked a tome under his arm and went out to share the morning with his former slayer. Buffy looked over at him, and he saw a little red around her eyes. Noticing now that she was wearing running shorts and a sports bra, he wondered how long she'd been up. But then Buffy smiled and, her natural volubility taking over, began chatting about the day, her planned outing with Dawn later (a little Xander present-shopping), the progress of the slayers, another one Will had discovered late in the day yesterday in Chile who would be brought in as soon as Kennedy could fly down and pick her up.
"So, Red, this one's only got, like, 3 pairs of leather pants in her wardrobe...are you sure you really needed to pull me in?"
"Ha, ha." Willow snarked back, mouthing "Faith" to her girlfriend as she came in from training to grab a shower.
"I'm just sayin', I think B's gettin' a little too Laura Ashley over there. But, if she wants to avoid the spice, I'm ok with that."
Faith and Willow both knew it wasn't exactly Buffy's doing. Once Willow had located Angie, she had sent Faith to find her before Buffy even met her, on the hunch that there are some things the dark slayer was just better at.
And, she wouldn't lie, Willow wanted the chance to keep tabs on Faith through these periodic updates. She had felt Faith's reformation, seen her troubled aura working to shake free of past mistakes. Ok, a lot of past mistakes. But Faith was working on it and Willow wanted to help. Especially since Willow knew Faith wasn't that different from Kennedy in some ways: a little stubborn, a little impulsive. Buffy and Kennedy had butted heads a time or two about training, so Willow thought it would be safest to keep Faith, who had more history with a capital "H" with Buffy, occupied elsewhere in a way that suited her talents.
Of course, Willow knew Faith knew this. And Faith knew she knew she knew this. And Buffy probably knew, too. But no one was complaining yet.
"How is Angie doing?"
"5 x 5. Had to regulate a little bit at first to keep her from chargin' in like a crazy person in every fight, but she's better now."
"Sounds like someone else I know."
"Yeah, yeah, but at least I always looked out for numero uno. First rule: don't die, remember?" Faith paused, remembering when Buffy told her that, trying to make the younger slayer feel good about running after Kakistos killed her Watcher. In retrospect, maybe there should have been more time for numero dos, too, but what can you do. "Ang was a little lacking in the self-preservation instincts. We're workin' on it, tho."
"When do you think she'll be ready to come to Cleveland?"
"I'd say the Golden Girl can have her in a few weeks." A pause. "So, we good?"
Willow smiled, knowing the other Chosen One wasn't much for phone conversations. At that moment Buffy called out Kennedy's name as she came down the hallway, wanting to talk to the other slayer about their patrol arrangements during Kennedy's trip.
"Oh, sorry, Will. Didn't know you were on the phone. Is Kennedy around?" The blonde looked like she'd just come from the training room: a little sweaty, muscles still tight from the workout she'd taken the girls through, bright-eyed in the way slayers get when they've had a good fight. Willow nodded towards the shower and Buffy turned to knock on the door.
"That B?" Faith could hear the familiar voice. Buffy turned back towards Willow, picking up the husky slayer's voice, and stared for a moment at the phone. Buffy wondered whether they should talk about the dream. Was it even a slayer dream? There hadn't been anything particularly clear in terms of prophecy, no impending doom that announced its plans to take over the world.
Turning her mind back to Willow and the phone, Buffy realized that Faith had said goodbye and was no longer on the line. She turned to find Kennedy.
