Please see Chapter 1 for relevant disclaimers and explanations.
Faith turned up the volume, blasting the tinny headphones as loud as they could go. She sung along under her breath as she worked, pausing now and again to blow away shavings. She held up the stake for close examination, scrutinizing the surface for imperfections. B had complimented her once on her stakes. Not that she cared, but it was cool to have something that was nicer than Buffy's. The other Slayer tended to whittle stakes at random, often preferring to break nearby furniture rather than waste time getting slivers. Faith liked taking her time creating stakes, holding on to them after the kill so they wouldn't poof with the vamp. Just didn't want to waste anything, is all.
The weapon finally passed inspection and was set aside. Faith carefully selected another block of wood from her stash and started the process all over again. Time passed almost pleasantly until a familiar thumping started up on the other side of the bedroom wall. Faith rolled her eyes. She'd forgotten it was Monday afternoon. Doing her best to ignore the moaning, she continued in her tedious work, knowing from past experience that the rendezvous wouldn't last long. Suddenly, the entire bed lurched forward as a particularly impassioned thump landed on the other side of the wall. Faith's hand jerked away a second too late and she swore as she saw the gouge in the wood. Great. She turned to glare at the wall behind her.
A solitary string of Christmas lights glowed back at her. She scowled at them, picturing Buffy's perfect little house with her perfect mom and her perfect room that was never next to some middle-aged bastard screwing his secretary. She picked up the ruined stake intending to hurl it at the wall, but her eye caught on the flaw near the end. Almost looked like a 'C.' She smiled ironically. 'Chosen'. That was her. Chosen for a lifetime of sleazy motel rooms and a job with no pay. Thanks a lot. Almost subconsciously she reached for the knife and began carving the rest of the word into the stake.
Chosen, except for not, 'cause hey, it was all a mistake, we didn't actually mean to choose you. See, we already have a Slayer and she's way better than you. But you can stay and help her if you want. What, you thought you were friends? Get real. You're the hired help, everyone knows that. It's not like you're an ex-murderer vampire - then things would be different. Then everyone would hide things and lie to protect you and beat up people who tried to save their Watchers from you. No, you're just some second-choice slayer from Southie who should have learned her place in the world by now.
Faith finished cutting the word into the wood and viciously stabbed the knife in after it. Chosen. All the books were wrong, all those dusty books going on and on about the Chosen One. There wasn't a Chosen One anymore, there were two. Two. She existed, she wasn't just some mistake. She and Buffy were the Chosen Two. She yanked the knife out again and added the word 'Two'. There.
After the turbulent emotions died down, Faith felt almost foolish, sitting on her bed glaring at a piece of wood. Just a piece of wood, sharp on one end, good for thrusting into vampires. She ran a finger across the letters etched along the side. Chosen Two. She was in there, in that piece of wood, in that Chosen Two. She was a part of something, even if that something was only with one other person. Beat the hell out of sitting around alone.
Echoes of Buffy's stumbling invitation flashed through Faith's mind. Stupid to keep thinking about it. It was over, done, she wasn't going to go to the Summers' for Christmas just so Buffy could feel better about herself. It wasn't like she didn't have better things to do. Faith shifted in her seat and reminded herself to check and make sure the Bronze was even open on Christmas Eve. It probably was. Not everyone wanted to spend the night cuddling and singing carols and whatever just 'cause it was a stupid holiday.
Faith stared unseeing at the bedspread as she considered the situation. Nothing to consider. She was Bronzing it. If it was open, that is. Which it would be, 'cause why wouldn't it be? Maybe it wouldn't be, though. She chewed her lip, turning the engraved stake over and over in her hand. B might like this. Better than her crappy stakes, anyways. Faith could make a million, it's not like she'd miss this one. Buffy could have it if she wanted. Probably Faith should give it to her. For like, Christmas and stuff. Faith shrugged and immediately felt ridiculous in the empty room. At least she hadn't been talking out loud.
She tapped the stake against her leg. She should bring it to Buffy now. Maybe Buffy would want to use it on the night's patrol. Faith leapt off of the bed before her thoughts could go any further and convince her to stay home. She stuffed some cash in her pocket and headed out, slamming the door of the miserable motel room behind her.