Chapter 4

Faith woke, her cheek damp with the terror of nightmares. She'd turned on to her side in the night, but Roxelana's arm was still slung over her, keeping her close, and Faith could feel her body pressed lightly against her back.

Faith heard her mumble as Faith tried unsuccessfully to get up without waking her, then Roxelana's lips were on the back of her neck, planting a soft kiss.

Faith shivered.

"Don't get up yet. It's too early," Roxelana mumbled, "Please, baby."

There was no greater combination of words than 'baby' and 'please'. Faith was powerless. She lowered herself back into Roxelana's arms without a second thought.

"Alright, Roxy," she whispered.

'Baby' was bad enough on its own. Roxelana didn't overuse it, and she didn't say it like a mother to an infant, or like a boy to a girl whose name he can't remember. When Roxelana said 'baby', she could make it mean anything. Sometimes it meant 'I want you' and others 'person I can't live without'. The way Roxelana said it, made it the most sexy, romantic word Faith had ever heard.

And 'please, baby' made Faith think about the first time they had had sex. Without fail. And then she couldn't refuse Roxelana anything, because the memory still made her glow inside.

"I'm so glad it wasn't you last night," she said it without thinking. In a moment, last night was back with her. She closed her eyes, hurt by her own words. Roxelana hugged her gently.

"There's nothing you could have done," she said softly, reassuringly.

"I could've stopped them. I could've done anything." Faith said, "But I wanted to be sure. I wanted to know for sure that they were Slayers, and I didn't want them to know that I was too. God!" I'm so selfish!

"You did the right thing. You could have jeopardised the company, yourself – all of us – if they'd found out. You've said it yourself, Buffy Summers would never allow it if she knew. It was necessary."

"Damien, he played along right to the end. I thought he'd give us away. But he kept to the plan–"

"Because he knew it was the smart thing to do," Roxelana hushed her, "Stop beating yourself up about this. It happened the way it had to. Better Damien went out like that than on the end of your stake."

"What?" Faith couldn't quite contain her shock, "Roxy, I would never–"

"Never say never," Roxelana chided her gently. "He was young and impressed with you, but he would have got old faster than you think, and bored with you. And then he would have tried to kill you. I'm going to have to go do damage-control on his crew as it is: make sure they don't get any ideas about killing a Slayer to make their name."

"Roxy–" Faith didn't want to consider this truth, but it opened the door on another more unwelcome one. "You're – you're going to get bored of me too?"

She felt Roxelana grow still beside her. Then–

"Not for a decade at least," she said, and Faith could feel her smiling, "I'm older than Damien, I know how to savour the things I like," then she shrugged, "it'll be when you start to show signs of ageing. When you're thirty-five, thirty-seven?"

It was times like these that the demon in Roxelana was painfully noticeable.

"I know you don't want to hear this," said Roxelana, "but I want you to know the truth, so there's less chance of me killing you when the time comes. So you aren't so surprised."

"I don't want to think about it now," said Faith, steeling herself against this truth, against that future, wishing she were ever-young.

"I'm sorry, baby," said Roxelana, and Faith melted again.

–:::–

It had been difficult acting as though nothing had happened between them, as if nothing had changed.

I suppose for Faith nothing has changed. Buffy thought miserably. That was the deal.

She kept finding excuses that brought her, sometimes indirectly, sometimes directly, into contact with Faith. Because she couldn't stay away. It pained her to admit it, but she had no time to herself now, or maybe it was that there was too much time – because Faith filled every second. Every second that there wasn't something to be done, an emergency to attend to – and that was every second. Because this was the calm between storms, the convalescence between apocalypses. God, where's an apocalypse when you need one?

But she didn't want one, not really, not if she was honest. It was too easy to hide behind matters of life and death.

"Woman found stabbed to death."

Buffy jerked her head out of her hands and stared around her in shock. Faith had just walked into the lounge of the Hyperion, a newspaper open in her hands.

"Pinprick-sized stab wounds to the neck. You think maybe this is the kind of stabbing job we should look into?" Faith glanced over the paper at Buffy. Oh, those eyes… Buffy felt her lungs go into automatic emergency lock-down.

Oh, breathe. Said the unimpressed emergency voice in her mind. Get your head out of the gutter. You weren't the only one in her bed that night. Definitely some two-person action going on. You can't fake lust, right? That means she had to, has to, feel something.

Buffy realised she was still staring mindlessly at Faith. Realised that Faith had asked her a question.

"Uhh …" well, this could go one of two ways, said the cool, unflappable emergency voice in her head. "… No." Buffy guessed.

Faith glanced back at Buffy, eyebrow raised in mild surprise. And Buffy realised that she'd been silent for so long that Faith had given up waiting for an answer.

"What's with you today?" Faith asked, head tilting to one side. She paused. "It's the newspaper, am I right? Surprised I can read, B?"

"Hey! No!" The insult jolted her out of emergency mode. "Don't try and turn that on me–"

She saw the look on Faith's face, the gentle humour, and knew the words before they left Faith's mouth. "Messing, B."

Buffy found herself slack-jawed again. It was disconcerting how, for once when she hadn't been trying desperately to think up a reason to see her, Faith had walked into her life.

Faith slumped down on the couch opposite Buffy, somehow managing to take up the whole couch, dominating it with her presence. Dominating… Buffy's mind hummed. Then she was slamming the brakes. No, no! Out of the gutter! She's right here! Polite conversation!

"I've been so out of it lately," she said meekly. "It's different, you know, to not be –" she searched for words. Found them on Faith's mouth. Oh, her mouth

"Freaking out that we might die any second?" Faith offered, lips quirking in a crooked half-circle. "S'cool, B. It's different for me too. Nice different. Like maybe there's time to go shopping for once in our lives."

Buffy choked on a laugh. Shopping. How far from her own ideas. "God. The last time I bought myself a dress …" I can't even remember. Her eyes returned inexorably to Faith's face. God, this is so hard.

"Tell me about it." Faith agreed. She flashed another smile. "You had it easy, you didn't get to sit in the cells for three years. Having all the time in the world, and having to watch it go to waste, that's a lesson, for real." She caught Buffy's eye. "I ain't done learning it either."

And the flashing smile was gone, and with it all her humour. Buffy felt the change in mood like a lightning bolt, killing all her lust. Leaving her raw – or was that Faith? And for an instant, all the emotional superfice was stripped away and she saw how deep in she was, how she was drowning and tortured by thirst. How did this all get so big?

And Buffy had to save her, save herself. Had to. Because Faith was crumbling, and Buffy was crumbling with her, and go back to gaol? Go back to gaol? Everything in Buffy rebelled against the idea. Not now, not when I've just started to know you, not now, when I've never been so desperate just to be around you – not now, you can't leave me, never leave me, no! and Buffy knew she had to speak, speak like it was her last breath.

"Faith, I just want you to know – I forgive you, OK? For everything. I don't care about any of that any more."

Faith stared at her intently. Taking the wind from her sails. Rejecting the life-line. "You're kidding." And more firmly, "You are kidding." And then almost desperately, "Don't you forgive me, B. Don't. You can't. I can't. The things I've done – don't forget them, don't forgive them. Don't try. There's some things are unforgivable. I'm sorry for what I've done, but that don't make them less. All I can do is atone, B."

"I'm sorry–" why is it I always do a double-take when I apologise to her? Why can't I just say it to her? Why do I always find it so hard to tell her the simplest things? Why is it so hard to put feelings into words when I'm talking to you? You, and no one else. "I wasn't trying to – I wasn't trying to say the wrong thing." Buffy cringed. "I mean, what I meant was – please don't go back to gaol." Buffy blurted out. It was the closest she could manage to 'please stay with me'.

"Why?" Faith asked quietly, and Buffy knew from her guarded tone that she should have been more subtle.

"Because I don't want you to." she said miserably.

"It isn't about wanting." Faith replied. "It's about redemption and doing what's right. I'm not above the law, B."

It was too late to backtrack. Buffy already felt like she'd gone in far too deep – always too deep – but she couldn't not argue: it wasn't in her to give up.

"But you've learnt your lesson. I mean, you put your life on the line to save the world – you've saved countless lives, you've repaid the debt. You won't gain anything by locking yourself up for any longer."

"B. That isn't how the American system of justice works." Faith said patiently. "One moment of altruism doesn't cancel out murder." And then, "This isn't up for discussion. It's my choice, end of."

The topic was so firmly closed that for a second Buffy didn't say anything – didn't know what to say.

"I – I'm sorry," she said finally, abashed, and cursing the routine double-take. "I was outta line."

"B, it's cool," Faith laughed. "God, doesn't it make you sick, being so nice all the time?"

Faith wasn't even trying to piss her off, Buffy realised. The question was genuine.

"I feel like I haven't always been fair to you." Buffy said. "I feel like I wrote you off, and you changed when I wasn't watching. I won't write you off again." She paused. "Hey, do you – do you wanna go shopping?"

–:::–

They were in Aéropostale when Faith's phone rang.

"Yeah?" she answered. And then, "Yeah, that's me. Uh huh. OK. Be there as soon as I can. Thanks."

Buffy watched in silence as she hung up.

"I gotta go." Faith said apologetically. "It's Robin."

"Is he OK?"

"He just woke up," Faith said. "Is it cool if I go to the hospital to see him?"

"Sure," Buffy managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You really care about him, huh?" Because she needed to ask, even if she dreaded the answer.

Faith's pause told Buffy everything she needed to know. Since when does Faith think before she speaks?

"Of course I care about him. He's–" Faith shrugged, fell silent, chewing on her lip.

At a loss for words? She's at a loss for words. My God. Buffy's mind screamed.

Maybe something about the way Buffy was eyeing her filtered through into Faith's consciousness, because she raised her hands, almost placatory.

"Nothing romantic," she said in mild amusement, "not anymore. Nah. He's just a real good guy, you know."

"Sounds like an understatement," Buffy muttered suspiciously, before clamping down on that rebellious part of her mind that had made the decision to speak her thoughts without her conscious approval.

Faith shrugged again. "The guy's there when I need him. Even when I don't think I do. Least I can do is be there for him."

It was the lack of intensity in her voice and face that scared Buffy the most, because it was this that told her that whatever tied Faith to Wood, it transcended passion, transcended emotion, and had become cold hard fact, real and stable as stone. Where passions were fleeting, passing things, this was without end.

"I gotta jet. Pick up where we left off sometime, yeah?"

"Sure. See you."

And she did see. Clear as day, Buffy saw Robin Wood. And he stood between her and Faith, immoveable. Goddamn!

She realised her jaw was clenched, and aching from it.

I'm getting to hate that man.