Seeing Buffy smoke was kind of like picturing your parents in bed. Unnatural and just plain weird. So weird.

Faith opened the door wider and stepped aside. Buffy took the invitation and headed immediately towards the bed, covering the snow-white sheets with dirt and dust.

"If you're going to make a mess in my bed I might ask you for a cheque, you know," she teased, only half serious. She had no idea how long she could last before she ran out of money.

Buffy didn't respond, only nodding slightly when her sister handed her an ashtray.

"How did it feel?"

She shook her head. "Kind of like riding a bike, only if you've never heard of bikes before?" Buffy grimaced. "I don't know if it makes sense. It's like my body knew what to do even though I didn't, as though it were some kind of machine."

Faith nodded.

"Did you call mom? She must be worried sick."

But Buffy was still coming down from her high, filled with numbness and indifference.

"What about you," she replied, "have you told her you were home?"

Faith smiled.

"No, and I don't think I will."

Buffy frowned, concern forcing her out of her daze.

"This is silly. Why should you be alone in some hotel room when you could –"

"Play home with mom, who I've seen maybe five times in four years?" Faith scoffed. "Besides, you don't want me there, so don't pretend otherwise. I'm already waltzing into your life with no warning. You're going to need all the space from me you can get if we're going to be hunting vampires all night, every night."

"Vampires," Buffy repeated.

Faith nodded, pulling two cigarettes out and handing one to Buffy.

"Yep." She sighed. "Vampires."

…

Being the new girl at Sunnydale High provided Faith with a new kind of attention. Back when she lived with her father, she had already been used to the attention that comes with being beautiful, smart and provocative. But this was as if she was some sort of celebrity. No one knew anything about her apart from the fact that she was Buffy's sister, and that they didn't talk to each other. Gossips were on everybody's lips. Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of the drama, Buffy Summers' dirty little secret. They all came to her like wolves barely disguised as dogs trying to sniff her up, hoping to find some tangible evidence that Queen B was not as perfect as she appeared.

Faith didn't really care what people thought of her anymore. The great thing that comes with being a slayer is the indifference toward anything associated with normal life. Death was her domain now. In fact, Faith didn't even bother covering the bruises that ran up and down her legs and arms when she dressed in the morning. It almost made her laugh when she remembered how hard she used to work to try to conceal the marks on her body before all this, how long it would take her to come up with logical explanations for the violence it betrayed, though no one had ever thought to ask. Now that she spent her nights being tossed against tombstones, she found it much easier to shrug it off. No shame, no excuses, no apologies. She responded to the insistent stares with an innocent smile. You don't need an explanation the smile said, you need a fucking life.

At lunch, Faith waved Buffy hello as she passed, accompanied as always by the average-looking dude and the pretty redhead. Buffy smiled back, a polite but sincere smile. Faith couldn't help but congratulate herself for how grown up she was being about this. For some absurd reason, a part of her had been more terrified about moving to her sister's territory than she had been about being a slayer. Slaying was in her veins, but socializing sure as hell wasn't.

Cordelia had been unexpected.

Although come to think of it, it was not surprising at all. The popular kids were often attracted to Faith's casual cool-girl act, if only on a superficial level. But Cordy had turned out to be the real thing. Far from the one-dimensional girl she appeared to be around other people. Indeed, at school, she and Faith barely interacted, only a few hellos and the casual how are yous. Faith didn't mind. She needed her own space anyway. But watching movies late into the night, smoking cigarettes in her hotel room, Cordy was another person. She smiled less, yet seemed happier.

"Do you hate my sister?" Faith asked her one day, while Cordelia's head rested on her lap.

"No, not really. I act like it is all."

Faith didn't bother asking why. Why does anybody act if not in self-defense?

"Don't you ever feel like –" Faith started, unsure how to ask.

Cordy tilted her head to look at her.

"I don't know. Like if you keep playing a role, trying to protect everything about you that's real –" She sighed, toying with Cordelia's hair.

"What? Does it make me feel invincible, like this part of me will never feel pain, or even die?"

Faith smiled. "But I mean, aren't you afraid that it will never live, either?"

Cordelia shook her head then pushed herself upwards to kiss Faith on the mouth. "It's alive now isn't it?"

Faith rolled her eyes.

"It looks like a lot of work," she said. "That's all."

Cordelia scoffed, and Faith bit her lip in anticipation, knowing she'd fucked up.

"Don't act like acting effortlessly casual doesn't actually require effort. Not giving a shit is hard work and you know it."

Faith didn't feel the slightest bit of shame. Cordelia could try and picture her as naked as she wanted to, she would never know her.

"Cordy," she smiled. "I'm not acting."

"You're a liar."

"Yes."

"So you do care?"

Faith shrugged.

"Less and less every day."

"About what people think about others, yourself?"

Faith lit a cigarette. "All of it."

Cordelia seemed unbothered by this. "What about me?"

Faith looked gently into her eyes. "What about you, darling?"

Cordy's jaw clenched. There was no cruelty in Faith's voice, which was somehow worse.

"Can we just watch something?" Cordy finally asked. "I don't think I want to make out tonight."

Faith turned on the TV and relaxed against the bed. Though men had their perks, this was what Faith liked most about girls. How they could just take it. Men always made a big deal of trying to help her, acting like fucking saviors and then resenting her when she didn't magically turn into a princess. And those were the nice ones, by the way. But women could tell when they were being used as distraction, sexual objects or emotional comfort. It was always consensual. None of these things were bad in themselves, she was simply always in it for herself. Whether boy or girl, intelligent or not, pretty or not, Faith took the qualities of her lovers as perks and didn't give a shit about the rest. After all, it wasn't about them.

"Wanna get high?" Cordy asked, wishing to get rid of that disappointment she could feel swelling in her chest.

Faith's smile widened as she answered, "Get out of my brain."