Title: Crash and Burn
Summary: Direct follow up to Dinner Date.
Warning: Major angst straight ahead!
"So shall we go back to yours?" B asks as our taxi crawls slowly through the traffic. "It's nearer, and you have a better video collection than me."
"I dunno." I reply, resting my forehead on the cool window. It's not the alcohol that's making me feel like this, although my body could be pickled with the amount I've consumed.
"You don't know?" She questions, taking my hand. "Faith, what's wrong?"
"I'm ok."
"No, something's been… I dunno, slightly off with you all night. What's up?"
I turn to look at her, how can I tell her that it's her making me feel 'off'? "Yeah, come to mine. We'll watch Tarzan or something." That's mine and B's movie. Disney rules. Anytime one of us feels down we put it on and feel better. I doubt it will work tonight.
She smiles slightly, but the look in her eyes tells me this conversation isn't over.
We get in and B immediately goes to the kitchen to start making hot chocolate, while I grab a duvet from my bed for us to snuggle under. Then I start wiggling the cable in the back of the VCR. B and I broke it during a pillow fight – don't ask – and now you have to jiggle it to get a clear picture.
I shove Tarzan in, and notice that – yet again – B and I forgot to rewind it. Better add that to by New Year's resolutions. I must rewind videos after watching.
She comes in, wearing a long T-shirt and carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows.
"I couldn't wear that dress any longer. It was too constrictive." She grins and hands me a mug.
"Yeah, I'm gonna get changed too." I reply. A tux just isn't lounging around the house garb. I put down my mug. "Don't start the film without me."
I go into my bedroom and get changed, wondering when it became mine and B's room. Her dress is hanging on the door of my wardrobe. Two of the drawers in my chest of drawers are hers. Her perfume is standing on the top of it. There's a book, half read on the nightstand next to 'her' side of the bed.
There's a million pictures of us. Some framed, some just taped to the wall, some in a collage that B made me.
There's a picture of us at Pride in a frame next to my side of the bed. There's one of us at Disney World, when we went there with her Mom and Dawn. There's a picture of us with the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland, because I didn't want a clichéd picture of us with Mickey.
A picture of us at Buffy's Graduation. The invite is in a frame next to it.
A picture of us in the park.
Curled up in her living room.
In fancy dress at Halloween.
The tears start to fall. We act like a couple. We look like a couple. But we're not a couple. I cry so hard I have to sit down.
"Faith? Faith, what's wrong?"
I'm dimly aware of B holding me as I cry. She rocks me and whispers soothing words. I know it's stupid to cry over something like this, but I just can't seem to stop.
"Faith, talk to me, what's wrong? I'll make it better, I promise."
"You can't." I reply.
"Why not?"
"Because you're straight." There. I finally said it out loud. Not that she didn't know already.
"I'm sorry." She whispers. And she really is sorry, because there's tears forming in her eyes too.
"Sorry, B." I wipe my eyes. "I shouldn't have said that." I sniff and try to pull myself together.
"Don't be sorry, Faith. I do love you, you know that, right?" She doesn't need to spell it out. We both know what she means. There's a difference between love and in love.
"I know." I say, biting my lip, wondering if I should continue. "But it's not enough. For either of us."
"What do you mean?"
"B, when was the last time you went on a date?"
"A couple of weeks ago, why?"
"And what was the outcome?"
"He thought I was a dyke because I talked about you a lot. You know this, we had a good laugh about it."
"B, we're dragging each other down." I say sadly.
"We're not!" She protests quickly. "We're good for each other, everyone says that –"
"That we make a great couple." I interrupt.
"Well, yeah, but so what?"
"We're not a couple, B. And we've been acting like one for years. I just…" I tail off. This is getting hard. I light a cigarette, mainly to play for time. "It's not right for us." I say finally.
"Don't tell me that Rob turned you into a homophobe." She says lightly, trying to joke her way out of this conversation. Neither of us want to talk about it, but since we've started I'm gonna make sure nothing goes unsaid.
"We're not a couple." I repeat. "And we shouldn't act like one. We need to get on with our lives. Dawn's in a more stable relationship than you've ever had, and me, I haven't even had a relationship."
"Faith, you've had plenty of –"
"One night stands." I finish for her. "I want to fall in love with someone – someone who can love me back. And you should too."
"We've got plenty of time for that." She says.
"If we were normal, yeah. Buffy, we're Slayers. You're the oldest living Slayer. Don't you want to fall in love?"
"Yes." She says in a small voice.
I touch her face. "That's why I'm leaving." I hadn't even thought about it before I said it, but really, it's the only thing I can do. If I stay here, B and I will just cling to each other and I'm not sure I can do this anymore.
"You're what?" She asks.
"Leaving Sunnydale."
"You can't! You're a Slayer, you can't just quit." Her voice has lost the softness, and there's anger in it now.
I stand up. "Don't give me that Slayer crap, B. There's nasties all over the world. And besides, you took care of the Hellmouth long before I got here."
"Yeah, and I died! Don't you care about me?"
"Damn it, B! I'm going because I care!" I snap. "Aren't you listening?"
"Yeah, I heard. You're going because you have a little angst!"
"I'm going because it will be easier for us." The tears are beginning to flow again. I never cry, and here I am. Twice in one night. "Please, B. Don't make this hard for me."
"Then don't go." She moves over to me and puts her hand on my arm. Her voice softens again. "Please, Faith. Don't leave me."
"I want to have someone, B. Someone who's in love with me." I spell it out for her loud and clear.
What she does shocks the hell out of me. She cups my face in her hands and kisses me. Not just a peck on the lips. I'm talking about a full on kiss, with her hands in my hair.
I respond for a moment, then realise what she's doing. I pull away. "Don't fuck me around, B!" I yell. "It's not fair. You're not playing by the rules."
"What?" She looks shocked.
"You heard. Don't kiss me again. You're straight, I've never thought any different. Don't kiss me to get me to stay."
"Is that what you thought?"
"Well, what else was it? I get it B. You kiss me, adlib through a couple of weeks worth of relationship, then dump me. All my feelings go away and we're back to being best friends again. It's not fair." I yell. I don't think I've ever been so pissed off. I couldn't imagine Buffy being so devious.
"If that's what you think, you should leave." B slams out of my room, I follow her, as she grabs her coat and bag.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"Home." She responds coldly.
"B, it's the middle of the night, and you're barely dressed." I point out reasonably.
"I'm the Slayer."
She slams the front door as she leaves.
I walk slowly back to my room and curl up on the bed. Again I'm crying.
I was right. One kiss from Buffy has just broken my heart.
*~*~*~*~*
I slowly pack my things up into boxes and bags. My hangover sucks. And crying myself to sleep last night didn't help either. I gotta find a way to kick this headache out of my skull, it's been in there so long it's entitled to squatters rights.
And damned if I'm not crying again. What happened last night? I mean, I was there, so I know. But how… I mean, B kissed me. And I'm not stupid enough to believe that was the start of something beautiful. It was manipulative and nasty.
B's always known how I feel about her. It was… damn it! I'm not having these thoughts. I'm gonna pack up my stuff and get the hell out of this town.
I light a cigarette and continue packing. I called the Watcher's Council when I woke up, they're arranging a motel room for me until I can get a steady job. Which is gonna be harder than usual, since I'm walking out of a job without giving notice.
And it's Christmas in four days. Damn it!
At least I gave B her present, I'll mail Dawn's present or something, she won't mind it being late. It'll be like a surprise for her.
I look down at the ring B gave me. I'm tempted to take it off and fling it across the room, but I don't. I know I'd only hunt for it when my temper wears off. She may be a bitch, but I still love her.
Two hours later and I'm all packed up. The essentials are in my car, the rest can stay here. I've paid up 'til the end of the month, so I can come back to pick it up, or someone can forward it to me.
Someone being B. If she's talking to me. I laugh at that one. Yeah, if she's talking to me. That's really gonna happen if I leave town.
Screw it. I'm going. I was right last night, it was B that crossed the line. Funny, I always thought it would be me. I always thought that if we ever kissed, I would instigate it while we were drunk or something.
I always thought that she'd be feeling as betrayed as I am right now.
Life on the Hellmouth.
It bites.
I get as far as the "You are now leaving Sunnydale" sign before my common sense beats the living shit out of my pride and demands I go back and see B one last time.
I pull a U-turn almost as spectacular as the ones in movies. I steal Spike's trick and clatter over the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. I don't share Spike's glee. All I can think is Oh Christ, my fenders!
Well, that and B-thoughts.
I arrive at B's in the shortest time imaginable. I need to do this now before I wimp out.
I knock on the door and Dawn answers.
"Hey, D. Big sis home?"
"She's in her room crying. What happened? She comes home at two am and locks herself in her room for a crying fit. I want details."
"Nothing." I reply distractedly. I'm two seconds from running like hell. "I'm gonna go see her." I say, more to myself then Dawn.
I don't bother knocking before entering B's room. She's collapsed on her bed and by the looks of her red eyes she's sharing the same headache as me.
"Hey." I say. Lame-ass thing to say, but my mind went blank.
"Not left yet?" She says in an icy tone.
"Apparently not." I reply. How can she be so cold? She stepped over the line, not me. And here I am trying to make up. "Just about to though."
"Ok."
I wince at the lack of emotion in B's voice. She's not even meeting my eyes. "Why do I even bother?" I mutter.
"Good question."
"Cos I don't want to part on bad terms with you, B." I snap. "But if you do, that's fine, just don't say I didn't try." I start to leave.
"Faith!"
One word from her and I stop dead. I turn towards her.
"How could you think I'd kiss you just to get you to stay? How could you? I couldn't do that to you. I'd never screw around with your feelings like that. Best friends?" She laughs humourlessly. "Yeah, right. You should know me better."
"Then why?" I ask. "Why would you kiss me? You're straight."
"I had to know for certain." She smiles slightly at me.
"Huh?" I'm feeling way too stupid right now.
"You think I'd let the best thing that ever happened to me walk out of my life without making damn sure that we couldn't have something?"
I'm speechless. I sit down heavily, miss the chair and end up on the floor, but it barely registers. I fumble for my cigarettes, then remember we don't smoke in B's room. I begin to put them away again.
B takes them out of my hands and lights one, she hands it to me, then lights one for herself.
I finally look at her. "I'm sorry, B. I really am."
"Me too." She reaches out and touches my arm. "Turns out I'm completely straight."
I grin sadly at her. "I never thought otherwise."
"Are you still leaving?"
"Yeah. I guess I am. Nothing's changed."
"Can you stick around 'til Christmas? It would be easier. You could work your notice at your job, and find yourself a new job before you move."
She makes a valid point. And it's not like I want to leave. I just feel like I have to.
I smile at B. "Okay. I wouldn't wanna miss Christmas here."
She smiles softly at me.
"I don't want to leave." I say.
"I know you don't. But you're right. And you can visit, and call and stuff."
"Yeah, and I could write, we could be like, pen-pals or something." I yawn mid-sentence.
"Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Not much." I admit.
"Me neither."
We collapse on her bed.
Mr Gordo sleeps between us.
The next chapter is an alternative ending to Dinner Date because people started threatening my life over the amount of angst in it. It's happy fic.