SIXTEEN: ANYWAY YOU LOOK AT IT
Buffy didn't think it was that obvious. And not because she wanted to be able to say, "Look! Not self-involved! I know what's going on in the lives of the people around me without being hit over the head with it!"
It just wasn't that obvious.
Just little glances and Faith's eyes following Willow out of the room (more recently, accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk, which was only to be expected, Buffy supposed) and Willow gradually getting more cozy with the other Slayer, a little more inclined to lean closer and talk in a low voice that no one else was invited to hear.
But, Buffy said nothing. It wasn't high school, after all, so it wasn't as if she could pass a hastily-scrawled What's going on? note to Willow in study hall.
She couldn't even make jokey little comments about holding hands under the table because this was Faith they were talking about and holding hands under the table just wasn't wicked-cool or super-hot or whatever, was it? Besides, they sat on opposite sides of the dining table anyway.
So, instead, Buffy simply gave Willow knowing little smiles – See? Not freaking! – and waited for her to spill.
Which she eventually did on Thursday morning – paperwork day – when Buffy went to the office.
Apparently unexpectedly.
Faith, of course, was totally unfazed by the interruption. She sat up a little and lazily removed her hand from where it had been, rolling her neck and stretching a little as if to loosen a tightened nerve, while Willow slid off her lap then squinted at the screen on Faith's computer and pretended to be checking for viruses or something, her face a surprisingly minor shade of pink.
"Hey, B – Will brought cookies."
And hid them under her sweater? Buffy just smiled. "Thanks, Willow."
So, they drank coffee and ate cookies then Faith went to check on some shrieking noises that were coming from the direction of the locker room.
Willow looked at Buffy, perhaps waiting for her to say something.
Maybe she was waiting for her to ask how, or why, or what was she thinking? Maybe it would give her a way out.
("Actually, those are really good points, Buffy. How could I have been so stupid? I'll just forget the whole thing ...")
Buffy chewed on her lip.
Is it 'cause you decided to go the whole anti-Tara way?
Which was a possibility, since Willow was now doing whatever she was doing with the person you'd get if you said, let's make someone who's the opposite of Tara. Who was only like Tara if Tara had been skanky and obnoxious and murdered people. But, now she thought about it, somehow Kennedy had been even more not-Tara. Kennedy had had not-being-Tara down to the point where Buffy suspected that she'd actively strived to be not-Tara. Faith, on the other hand, probably never gave a single thought to how much she was or wasn't like Tara. Buffy just couldn't decide if that was simply arrogance on the other Slayer's part (which wouldn't exactly be a stretch) or if Faith should be admired for not letting Tara's shadow loom over whatever the hell they were doing. Maybe both.
Is it just the sex?
Which Buffy would understand. Well, not the actual sex part itself, since she didn't really know what ... anyway, it was another possibility. The other Slayer was ... well, Buffy wasn't blind; plus, she had that whole 'look-at-me-I'm-so-tortured-yet-hot' thing going on. So, she could see why Willow might have decided that screwing Faith was a good idea. (And Buffy just bet that was the exact word Faith used – 'screwing'. Well, that or 'fucking'. Or 'boinking'. Or basically any one of a thousand euphemisms that didn't involve the L-word.) Then again, if Willow was so depressed or pissed off that she was sleeping with Faith, wouldn't she look more guilty or ashamed? Or maybe she was just doing it because she felt like it. Like a new hobby or something. Maybe Buffy could suggest handicrafts as an alternative.
Do you think maybe Faith's just going where the power is now?
Okay, that one could go wrong in so many ways. Best not go there.
Is it 'cause I haven't been a good enough friend?
But, she couldn't imagine Faith and Willow just hanging out over mochas or doing the supportive-best-friend thing or talking about the kinds of stuff that they might talk about if Faith didn't actually happen to be the subject of the type of stuff that friends sometimes talked about. All of which, of course, Buffy hadn't done for a long time with Willow until relatively recently again. So, maybe compared to Buffy, Faith was a veritable geyser of good friendshipness. When she wasn't too busy screwing her new friend, that is.
Willow gave Buffy a nervous smile, then looked at the floor, then picked up a paperclip from Faith's desk and studied it for a moment. Then, finally, she looked at Buffy and said that she should probably explain and she was sorry she didn't mention anything before, but, well, it was just one of those things and it was no big deal really, but she liked Faith and it was nice not to have to think about big relationshippy-stuff after all the intense Kennedy-stuff.
"But, isn't Faith, like … super-intense?" Buffy said carefully.
"Yeah, intense person, maybe. But, not in an intense-relationship sorta way. It's nice." Willow sort-of smiled. "And she doesn't treat me like all-knowing eighth-wonder-of-the-universe-girl either, which is nice too."
Buffy sat up and frowned. "But, she treats you okay, right?"
A little crease appeared on Willow's own brow. "Of course she does. I mean, I'm not totally oblivious. She's still Faith. I know that. But, she's been really nice. You know, to me."
Buffy nodded, wondering how many more times Willow could get away with using the word 'nice' when it came to talking about the woman she'd once thought was the most skanky, evil person in the western world. Maybe the eastern world too.
"Well, as long as you're happy," Buffy said. Supportive, yet noncommittal. A sensible degree of yay for the Willow and Faith thing. It was probably too late to sound more enthusiastic now anyway.
Willow gave her another nervous smile and looked at the paper clip again.
Faith came back into the office. Her hair was damp and she'd changed into a different tee-shirt. "We gotta get stronger shower fittings. That's another one fucked."
"We're supposed to be teaching them to be more gentle," Buffy said. "With the not-slaying stuff, I mean. You know, how to not hurt ... things."
The other Slayer shrugged and sat down again. "Fine, whatever."
When Willow left the room a few minutes later, Faith leaned back in her chair, swiveling idly from side-to-side, her eyes still on the door. "Tellin' ya, B, now I get why the brat looked so friggin' happy all the time. I mean, the things that girl can do with ..."
Buffy clenched her teeth. "Faith, I swear ..."
"... cookie dough." The other Slayer looked at her, an innocent little smile on her face as she reached across her desk for the not-yet-empty plate.
Buffy forced herself to smile back.
Yeah, very nice.
Willow once told Buffy that Kennedy always knew about 'you know, stuff like that'.
"You mean, like, the 'gaydar' thing?"
Willow shrugged. "Gaydar, heterodar ..."
"Heterodar?"
"Do I question your radio-wave puns? Anyway, I kinda mean the intimacy thing. As in, who's, you know ..."
"Getting some?" Buffy grinned.
Willow's shocked expression lasted about half a second before she shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, that."
Buffy was more inclined to suspect that Kennedy just assumed everyone was having sex until proven otherwise (not to be confused with Faith's assumption that everyone wanted to have sex with, well, Faith). But, when Kennedy returned from her latest trip and, within about three minutes, figured out that Faith and Willow were now in the habit of 'getting some' with each other, Buffy had to admit she may have underestimated the younger Slayer's sexdar abilities.
She'd seen Kennedy watch the two of them interact when Faith got back from patrol – which, as far as Buffy could see, had basically amounted to Faith taking a plate of leftover pizza from the fridge and saying, "Is this still good?" and Willow saying, "I think so."
Then, when Willow went to show one of the newbies how to improve the mega-something on her processing-whatever and Faith went to watch TV, leaving Buffy and Kennedy alone in the kitchen, Kennedy turned to the older Slayer and said:
"So, how long's she been sleeping with my ex-girlfriend?"
Once she'd finished being surprised and then impressed, Buffy shrugged. She could maybe hazard a fairly specific guess, based on when Faith's Willow-watching expressions had taken a turn from 'interested' to 'smirky' and Willow had begun to look more cheerfully flustered if Faith so much as breathed in her direction during their group library conferences, but that would be based on her own observations only and, since it really hadn't been that obvious, she wasn't sure if she could be accurate enough. She decided on less-specific:
"Not long."
The younger Slayer leaned on the breakfast counter with her elbows, chewing her lip. After a moment, she cocked her head to the side and looked at Buffy.
"Do you think I should punch her?"
"Who?"
"Faith."
Buffy frowned. "Why would you do that?"
With a shrug, Kennedy straightened up again. "I don't know. I just thought maybe I should do something."
Buffy acknowledged the gesture with a sympathetic smile. Kennedy the protector. Even if Willow's happiness was no longer her responsibility, chivalry dictated that she defend the other woman from rogues and scoundrels who dared to take advantage. Or maybe she thought her own honor was at stake, that Faith had betrayed her.
"Nothing was going on before you and Willow broke up." Buffy was certain of that. Besides, judging from what she'd just witnessed, she was pretty sure Kennedy would have known.
The younger Slayer nodded. "Yeah, I know. I mean, she wouldn't do that."
"Who?"
"Uh, Willow." Kennedy gave her one of those little 'Earth-to-Buffy' looks that mostly served to remind Buffy why she and the younger Slayer could probably never be real friends.
Buffy offered a curious look in return, wondered what had happened to isn't-Faith-just-the-coolest-bestest-baddest-badas s-in-the-whole-wide-world? But, that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? Even if Kennedy knew there was nothing going on before the break-up, it didn't mean a betrayal of some kind hadn't occurred: Willow had ditched the student and moved on to the teacher and the teacher hadn't returned the student's loyalty. Buffy should probably have been giving the other woman 'Earth-to-Kennedy' looks for the past five months.
"I think she was gonna talk to you later tonight," Buffy said.
("I can't just tell her straight away. She'll be tired from her trip and, well, it wouldn't seem right. You know, welcome home and, oh, by the way ...")
"Maybe she shouldn't have to." Kennedy shrugged again. It was a gesture that always looked slightly awkward on the girl. Maybe Faith had forgotten to cover 'effortless nonchalance' in her lesson-plan.
As it was, Willow didn't talk to her. Not first anyway. Instead, Faith took Kennedy out to patrol a nearby cemetery and, by the time they got back, any possible issues appeared to have been dealt with without recourse to crossbows-at-dawn. Buffy never asked, so she was never sure which approach Borderline-Bi-Polar-Girl had taken, but she had it narrowed down to the two most likely to have required the fewest words: either Zen-Faith, since the long, meaningful silences would have come in useful; or Don't-Give-a-Crap-Faith, who would have just shrugged and said something like, "Too bad, deal with it."
But, things were different. Over the next few weeks and beyond, Kennedy still sparred with Faith when she was home, still nodded intently in agreement whenever Faith was discussing techniques or tactical maneuvers with the newbies, still listened to her dumb stories and laughed on cue, but at the same time, Buffy noticed that the younger Slayer no longer regarded Faith with quite the same reverence as before, no longer hung on every word and gesture like she was the Second Coming. Because when your heroes betrayed you, maybe they couldn't be your heroes anymore.
Faith didn't seem to notice. Or else she just didn't care. But, she did stop calling Kennedy 'The Brat'.
For a respectful couple of months anyway.
It turned out Dawn knew already. Or she'd at least figured something was going on.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Buffy asked.
"Denial maybe? Come on, we're talking about the two most potentially evil women in the world making with the smoochies?"
Buffy bit her lip. She hadn't thought of that. She shook her head. "No, that's not gonna ... I mean, I'm pretty sure it's not a —"
Dawn looked at her and laughed. "Jeez, Buffy ... I'm kidding."
Buffy laughed too, ignoring how shaky and quiet it sounded.
Her sister grinned. "You know, we could sneak into Faith's room and check for a letterman jacket in her closet."
"You think it's that bad?"
Dawn shrugged, the amused expression fading. "Not bad. Just ... I'm not sure. Things should've been ..." She looked down for a moment, then shook her head and smiled again. "There's wig, but I guess as long as they're happy."
Buffy nodded understandingly, with a surge of pride (and a bit of guilt) for the extra generosity Dawn had extended to Faith.
Her sister's smile turned just a shade evil. "But, hey, I'll bet it's a leather one."
"The jacket?" Buffy smiled back. "Isn't it supposed to put the whammy on all of us?"
This time, Dawn smirked. "I think this one works in stages. Maybe it's still not my turn yet."
Buffy started to laugh again, then stopped abruptly. "Huh?"
They'd been noticeably careful around Xander and, at first, Buffy wasn't sure if she should be pissed off at Willow for not talking to him about it. On the one hand, only one person had been deliberately extended that courtesy and so it wasn't as if he was being singled out; on the other, it just seemed sort of wrong that Willow hadn't taken him aside and discussed whatever needed to be discussed. On the (freakish) third hand, Buffy sort of understood: Kennedy was The Ex, one they still had to see on a semi-regular basis, and so was automatically entitled to some kind of explanation; Xander came with a messy history of crushes, imagined 'connections', humiliations, and near-murderous encounters; the things that probably warranted him special consideration and prevented it at the same time.
But, 'being careful' most likely also contributed to him looking like he'd been punched in the gut with a wrecking ball when the penny finally dropped. Or when the penny had been thrown at him – not with great force, but enough to stir him out of the necessary haze of oblivion he sometimes seemed to have surrounded himself with since Anya ... since the reality of the situation had hit him. Besides, Willow had always been his blind spot (God, those accidental puns were annoying); he was too close sometimes to see the more subtle displays of hurt or happiness – or want to see them. Not too different from Buffy herself who, more than once in the past, had most likely used her ready-made isolation as an excuse not to notice.
Buffy was kind of glad she hadn't been the penny-thrower, but Dawn said later that he would have found out anyway ("How could he not? Hello! We all live in the same house!") and it was probably better it came from a third party than from suddenly just realizing or stumbling across in-your-face evidence that Willow and Faith weren't simply bonding in a colleagues-come-housemates-frequently-thrown-toget her-by-work-type-circumstances sort of way.
Instead, Dawn had accidentally made a comment on Saturday night when Willow and Faith were 'hanging out' at the movies:
"Yeah, 'cause, you know, it's 'not a date'. I mean, jeez ..." Dawn started to roll her eyes, then froze and looked at Xander, turning on a huge 'I so didn't just say that' smile, as if it might cover up what she'd let slip. For a moment, Buffy thought the technique might actually be working, but she quickly remembered that the slightly dazed, less pathologically smiley expression Xander was directing back at her sister usually just meant that comprehension hadn't set in yet.
When the expression on his face did change, Buffy watched with a combination of dread and undeserved impatience as his mouth opened and closed again, like he wanted to say something, but didn't know exactly what or how to get it out.
"It's kinda complicated," she said. A non-explanation for all occasions that she winced at herself for using. For one thing, she wasn't even sure if it was complicated and she had nothing to back up the claim if he asked the 'how?' question. Willow was sleeping with Faith – simplicity itself. Like a Slayer who slept with vampires, or a demon-fighter who almost married an ex-demon, or a former ball of energy who'd probably end up taking a vow of celibacy (which, off-topic, Buffy couldn't say she would be too upset about). She could see his face pale, almost see the intense throbbing in his head that was making it difficult to get his thoughts in order, if he even knew what kind of order he wanted in the first place. Buffy suddenly envied Faith's (possible/probable) 'get over it' philosophy.
Dawn, thousand-watt grimace now replaced with a concerned squint, offered her own Blunt Instrument of Would-be Comfort: "But, it's just, you know, a 'thing', anyway. Whatever that means." She punctuated the effort with a nervous laugh.
Xander looked down at the dining room table, nudging the colored chips in front of him with his finger. When he looked up again, a smile, roughly speaking, was back in place. He shrugged with one shoulder. "Yeah, I get it – a thing." He picked up his beer and nodded at the cards Dawn was holding. "So, what'cha got there, Dawnster?"
Buffy had already folded.
Xander was good at poker.
Buffy rubbed her arms as she crossed the yard; October had brought a little less outdoor warmth, but the outlook was clear and Saturday's off-season barbeque was a go-ahead.
("It was a bargain," said Xander.
"Is it really a bargain if you didn't plan on buying it in the first place?"
"Says the woman who can smell a shoe sale at two-hundred paces."
"I stand corrected. But, hey, thanks for the disturbing shoe-smelling imagery.")
She went inside, hesitated for about two seconds, then crossed the hallway to the living room.
Faith was sprawled on the recliner, watching TV, beer in hand, a box of popcorn in her lap. The room was empty otherwise. Xander and Dawn were out having pizza with the newbies, Willow was in her office video-conferencing with the Coven, Kennedy was in Greece.
Buffy approached the other Slayer. "Can I talk to you?"
Faith didn't look up, but she hit the mute button.
"Um, I don't know if you know ... I didn't even know myself. I mean, I knew, but I kinda forgot. Dawn reminded me ..."
Faith tilted her head up. "This about next Thursday?"
"Oh. So, you do know?"
The other Slayer nodded. "Will said something."
"Oh."
Faith was clutching a fistful of popcorn, her gaze steady, with maybe just a hint that something funny was happening. "So, this a warning or just a friendly heads-up?"
"I just thought you should know," Buffy said. Queen of the Non-Answer – her recently-bestowed title was safe for now.
With a shrug, Faith stuffed the popcorn in her mouth and turned her attention back to the TV. The sound of gunfire came out tinny from the set's speakers.
When Buffy got to the doorway, she heard Faith clear her throat.
"Thanks, B."
Buffy paused, her sarcasm detector coming up empty. Not enough time to process that before she saw the door to Willow's office open. She caught a glimpse of the photograph on the desk just before Willow closed the door behind her, locked it, and entered the living room through the doorway near the back.
Faith sat up and the TV once again fell silent.
"How'd your big meeting go?"
Willow smiled. "Good." She took Faith's beer from her hand, lifted the box of popcorn and, with what could only be described as hippo-like grace, plunked herself down on the other Slayer's lap.
"Hey, you break it, you bought it. And watch the fuckin' leather."
"Oh, shut up."
Buffy went through to the kitchen and started to make some tea, wondered what Tara would think, her mind still half-focused on the image of the tangled figures on the recliner, like a living sculpture from Bizarro-world.
While the water boiled, she looked through the window, across the backyard. Her eyes settled on the small garden for a moment before she turned her gaze upward and observed the sky above still clear, still peaceful.
"Oh, crap."
"Jesus, Will, if you're into the wet tee-shirt thing, you just gotta say."
"It's not gonna stain, is it? Sorry. Damn … it's this stupid chair."
"Tell ya what, lemme go change and we'll go out for a couple hours. Maybe find you a bar where the chicks don't mind gettin' beer thrown over them."
"Funny."
Not a replacement, but not a stop-gap either. Neither one of them was thinking that far ahead. Buffy turned away from the window.
She knew exactly what Tara would think.
Re: this chapter's title: Not a typo on my part, but poor grammar from Mick and Keith (or some kind of weird pun that doesn't make sense). I decided to go with it in any case/nonetheless/regardless.