Chapter Fifty-Four

Keeping Faith

A/N ok, so this was supposed to be one chapter but then I wanted to do a load of Faith scenes so now it's two. I apologise for nothing. Gotta make this thing end up as 50 chapters, I got it all planned out. Don't you worry. The prison escape is a scene from Angel S4E13 btw.

*Flashback* Boston, Massachusetts, the world without shrimp 1990

Faith sat halfway up the stairs, her feet resting on the stair below as she peered through the banister-like bars that kept her from falling. She was supposed to be in bed, but then 'little firecracker' wasn't her nickname for nothing, she always had enough energy for two days packed into one. She was watching the scene play out in front of her, her father standing halfway through the cracked open door, a packed bag in one hand and a fag sticking out of his mouth as the bottle halfway between his hand and his lips snuck some dank liquid past the smoke. Her mother was standing opposite. They'd just finished arguing, they did that a lot, argue about things, about the milk they didn't have and that the bins needed taking out and who was going to do it. Faith often locked her bedroom door and slid down one of the walls when they started shouting. When she got older and managed to wedge open her window, that's how she'd escape the smoke and her mother's shouts at the television. But for now she wasn't tall enough to reach. Stuck inside the house with the arguing.

Then he left.

He'd packed an hour before they started arguing, Faith watched him through the hole in the door, her eyes sharpening at the sight of him going, he wouldn't even say goodbye. Just assuming she was asleep brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead, saying someday he'd make it up to her. But not saying the words, not admitting this was a goodbye. But she knew it was. She wanted to see it, to see him slamming the door, the bruise he might leave on her mother's cheek. So she'd slipped out of bed to the stairs. She had no doubt her mother knew she was there, it was a feeling she had at the back of her neck, all the hairs sticking out.

There was an eerie silence, normally they'd be shouting and he'd slam the door, take the car and come home late the next night pissed out of his mind. Sometimes passed out on the doorstep. But this time there was nothing, Faith knew this was a big fight. It was like they'd given up trying to work things out. Was this the end of her parents as a collective, as a team? Then her father took a long drag out of his cigarette, dropping the empty beer bottle on the floor. The thick glass base smashing loudly against the cemented front step. His foot was on the step, his other still in the hallway. And Faith watched on as her mother looked down at his boot slowly, then back up to his stubbly cheeks and said in a whisper - she knew Faith was listening but she didn't want him noticing.

"If you leave now, don't come back. I don't want to see your danger near our daughter anymore. You got so close in the past, so close to this bein' it, a death covered in smoke. And she comes first, always. Now get outta my house Pat." She accentuated this statement with a point at a the stairs, a tiny shot of fear ran through Faith's entire body, but neither of them looked round at her. Her mother's thick Boston accent coming through in her words as she quietly shut the door behind the man she was shutting out of her life. He didn't swear, he didn't shout, he knew she was right, he knew not to make a fuss. He'd had enough.

Faith heard the protection she was being given from her mother and for the first time in her life she felt like there might be something. Like she would look out for the both of them now. That her and her mom would be the team, would be the ones that held their own and protected the keep. But then her mother turned and grabbed the attention right out her eyes. "Go back to bed pipsqueak, he's not coming back. Now it's gonna be hard." Then she walked into the kitchen, ignoring the smashed green glass on the front step, she'd brush it aside with her foot tomorrow morning, it need not be done at this hour. Faith ran up the stairs, eager to get away from everything that'd just happened, hide away in her dreams where she was the star, in control of her life, instead of just following the rules. Now the rules would follow her. The tears stopped streaming down her cheeks when she realised she had to be tough. Her mom was right, it was only going to get harder. And there was to be no more crying.

Northern California Women's Facility, Stockton, the world without shrimp 2003

It'd been a day or two since she'd been attacked, of course there was no competition. Faith was a slayer, against your average woman she was a professional. But having nearly avoided confinement time, having Wesley visit wouldn't be a coincidence. He'd been a few times, Angel more. There was a part of her that thought they might still care; but she was getting pretty used to be being part of the system. Everything was controlled, monitored, every move made a note of, she had no freedom. But maybe it was for the best?

What little freedom there was, she didn't have to patrol, only work out. But she did miss the thrill of the hunt, the chase a vamp gave her made her blood run thick. Her pulse would strengthen, eyes blacken and the instinct would take over. Nothing left of the thinking mind, the cognitive brain is shut down for killer reflexes to take its place, making the decisions of the body. Until there's a woman lying on the ground with her nose bloody because she decided to attack a slayer. The bringers should've sent someone more qualified, Faith was no potential, she was a hardened criminal with slayer physique and training. A force to be reckoned with.

Then she was sat opposite 'Wesley the Watcher', prison glass between them as they spoke quietly. Wesley told her how they'd raised Angelus and how they couldn't think of anyone else to get him back to the hotel. No mention of why she might've been attacked, but then again, it felt like a Buffy thing. Faith and Buffy - how can one describe two sides of the same coin. One blacked and bruised, pushed aside, a rebellious dark beauty, the tail side. The other side head, the blonde tinker, so thoughtful that she had friends, family at her side. The beauty had nothing. It was a weighted coin, forced down by destiny. Faith and Buffy were woven together like opposing cloths in a quilt. But opposites attract remember?

Buffy intrigued Faith, she thought too much, didn't just react to everything. And she had an obsession with consequences, everything had its consequences, there wasn't an easy choice in Buffy's life. Perhaps that's why Faith had strayed, she didn't want the responsibility. The weight on her shoulders, the force of the world relying on her. They could've worked together. Both girls knew that to be true, it was something that lived in Buffy's mind and haunted Faith's. The potential in the pair of them, if they had just stuck together, worked as a team they could've been formidable, shared the burden of slaying, shared secrets. But there'd been a fork in the road. They'd been destined to walk the slow path of friendship.

"Angelus is back." Wesley had said. It was the name that struck a little fear but mostly annoyance into Faith's heart, she cared for Angel. He was almost the only one who'd at least tried to understand the loneliness. The need to do everything alone, not losing those close but being able to fight the battle for survival. He'd been there and they'd shared their loneliness. His evil alter ego was not exactly her favourite face.

"Step away from the glass." Faith replied, she'd hesitated at first, thinking with her mind not her body. Then the instinct took over, her eyes scoured the glass and she knew what she had to do. Wesley got up and dropped his chair, his well thought out plans for her escape going amiss in the back of his brain as he assumed Faith was about to take the quick route. She stood a foot from the glass, guards glaring in their direction as she jumped through the barrier. Her head being the weapon to shatter the pane, shards of it shooting out in all directions.

As she met the ground in a roll, suddenly landing on her feet there was a fight to be had. Guards flinging themselves at her as her fists worked their way through the forming crowd of brown shirts and walkie-talkies. Chairs amiss all over the floor, Faith ran at Wesley and smashed through the outside window. Broken wooden cross beams and yet more glass falling at their feet and off their clothing as they landed two storeys down on top of a car. The whole thing rather like a James Bond movie, Faith, a Charlie's angel, perfect hair running around fighting crime - or creating it. The alarm went off as the blue pickup smashed into a city dump state and the slayer-watcher pair rolled off the bad paint job and headed for Wesley's truck.

"You okay?" Faith asked as they grappled for breath, she was checking there wasn't any glass damage, he wouldn't be able to run around much longer if there was.

"Five-by-five." He replied, picking up her infamous catchphrase was easy code for 'I'm fine, let's get out of here.'

A road between Los Angeles and Sunnydale, California, the world without shrimp 2003

Crisis with Angelus averted when Fred had decided to call Willow and have her fix everything, which seemed like the most logical move anyway because she was the one with the spells. Dark Willow and all. They were on the drive back from Los Angeles, Willow and Faith, talking like they weren't old enemies. Which Willow supposed they weren't seeing as Faith had helped Angel and seemed long changed by prison. Maybe the time inside and all the rule following had done her some good.

Willow had learnt to drive over the summer in England, her and Tara had worked it out so they learned together. After she'd magicked a car into crashing the year before she was reluctant to get behind the wheel again, but when push came to shove it would be useful if she learnt. The car belonged to Xander, he knew he wouldn't be needing it anytime soon, they stuck so near the house lately that the money they saved on fuel was mounting up into a big jar. He was back to sleeping in his own apartment though - him and Anya thought it would be easier to keep their relationship a secret if they had their own space to occupy. He'd offered it up as some more weapon storage and space for the potentials to sleep on the couch to make it look less suspicious.

The road was smooth out and they were going to get back to Sunnydale in good time, somehow Willow and Faith were talking about prison food. The thought of sludgy veg and bread like rock was enough to put Willow off committing any crimes any time soon. "Yeah, it's pretty bad red, you don't even know the half of it." Faith was saying, looking back at Willow for a second before she spied the body lying in the middle of the road. "WILLOW! Stop it, stop the car." Faith said grabbing her arm and making sure the car stopped in time. The tyres screeching to a holt as Willow ran from the driver's seat, rushing towards the helpless girl lying beaten on the tarmac.

The girl was bloody and bruised, streaks of pain etched across her face. "She must be a potential." Willow said to Faith as they scooped her up, slayer strength coming in handy. Gently laying the girl in the back seat, Willow checked all the vitals she could, Tara had been teaching her first aid - apparently it was something she'd learnt in healing magic from her mother when she was younger. The best times of Tara's life, well, ok maybe apart from some things. Last week was pretty good. When she did that thing with her tongue, wrapping around my- Willow focus, girl dying in front of you. Get your mind outta the gutter, outta Tara. I'm not funny, is she breathing? Willow thought, her mind going out of control, Tara always distracted her, but this was actually important - the sooner they got this girl to the hospital the better.

Sunnydale, the world without shrimp 2003

She saw his figure before she recognised his cold body, adorned in leather fighting a defenceless girl through a cemetery. Classic Spike. Faith thought as she threw him a punch from behind. Up to his old tricks again. He ducked and weaved between them, throwing his own punch in retaliation before stepping back, trying to identify her. "Let me guess, leather pants, nice right cross, doe eyes, holier-than-thou glower- you must be Faith. Im-"

"Spike. I know, we've met." She knew who he was, filthy crawly vampire, another kick to his stomach and he'd be down.

A little while later...

"So you're telling me, he's a good vamp now. A vampire with a soul, hey he's Angel mark two." It'd been a while of Buffy and Spike standing side by side - arms crossed and glaring sarcastically at Faith who was fighting a freshly risen vampire. They were supposed to be on patrol after all. Buffy in the midst of Faith and Spike's sparring had turned up looking rather unimpressed and punched Faith in the face. no that she recoiled all too much.

"Hey, watch it, I'm nothing like Angel." Spike almost spat at the mention of the guy's name. It'd been years but Angel was still better, still won, he always won. He was older, badder, tad more evil in his soulless form. Not that Spike would ever admit to any of that. Faith was still fighting with the vamp, but fumbling around her body, quickly realised she didn't have her own stake. She reached out to Buffy, gesturing for her stake but when the blonde didn't move she grabbed the wood from it's sheath in her boots.

Dusting the vamp quickly she dropped the stake back in Buffy's hands and gave the two of them a hard stare. "Thanks B, just like old times." And it really did feel like it was, Buffy and Faith on patrol together in the cemetery - well one of them. It even mimicked their first meeting; outside the Bronze, they were still in high school. And yet still Faith was giving them an odd look, it was the way they were standing, and the looks they were giving each other, there was something there. something that hadn't been the last time she saw either of them. Was it chemistry?

"You two had sex didn't you?" It was like Faith to be blunt, but alike Anya, most of them time she got the information she was looking for. She was now unfolding her arms and pointing at the two of them. The two that were now not looking at each other and not quite at Faith. Buffy looked down, playing with her feet, she couldn't exactly lie, and it wasn't exactly a secret, but she knew the kind of grief she would get from Faith if she answered honestly. Spike ever proud of the fact he'd gotten Buffy into bed on several occasions, stayed quiet to let Buffy handle it how she wanted.

"Well, not exactly no, but not exactly yes. It only happened once." Spike looked round at the blonde slayer in slight shock at the whopping great lie that'd just fallen out of her mouth. When Faith caught this her eyebrows raised and her stare only strengthened. "Ok, maybe more than once, twice. Just twice, three times. Fourteen. We had sex twenty-four times." That's when Spike started nodding, there was a pride in his eyes that Buffy had said it out loud. Then he realised he'd had no idea how many times it was before now.

"You counted?" He said, standing a little closer to Buffy now. Faith left them to talk, edging out through the headstones to wait by the wall. Best give them some privacy. Buffy didn't want to look at him, she'd been working on being so tough, she felt like crumbling into his arms because it was easier, but she couldn't, she had to be strong because it was her job.

"We had a good time didn't we? While it lasted. So yes, I counted. I never got to do that with Angel. I wanted to get something right." Spike scoffed at his name again, she always brought him into it, it was like it was Buffy and Spike and Angel. Never just Buffy and Spike. No he was always there, sneaking in somewhere. Then Buffy's face broke the anger. She looked sad, but almost longingly at him, it was pitiful. He couldn't have her be that. Reaching towards her, his hands wrapped around her arms and brought her into him. Buffy didn't respond just leant into Spike's body, his leather a little comforting and he had a very distinctly Spike smell that Buffy always liked. Somehow she was drawn to him, whether it was love or hate.

"Thanks Spike." She mumbled into his chest, "I needed that." Lifting her head slowly she pecked his chiseled cheek and walked away towards Faith. Somehow acting like she was an innocent teenager crushing over her first vampire all over again made her feel a little better spirited. It made her feel safe. If around Spike - when they were alone - she could pretend, pretend she didn't have to save the world. Pretend she wasn't humanity's last hope and defending the Earth from yet another evil apocalypse.

"You good blondie?" Faith asked as she followed her friend out of the cemetery back to the house. Spike following behind slowly.

"Five-by-five." Buffy replied, smiling childishly, somehow it felt like Faith had suffered enough of her seriousness for one lifetime. Maybe when she wasn't addressing the potentials, she could be Buffy Buffy again, the Buffy that was just her, the non-slayer part that still needed to exist inside of her, that still did. Even though she'd been sure it was left in heaven when she was dragged back.

"Why does everybody keep saying that?" And Buffy laughed, the first laugh she'd had in a good long while. And Faith laughed too, at the ridiculousness of their lives. Spike smiled, he liked seeing the old Buffy sometimes, even if it was rare, it showed him she wasn't gone, she was still there. Still the Buffy he loved.