Disclaimers and story info located at Chapters 1 and 4.
"What?"
"You could-"
"No, I heard what you said, I just mean – What?" Buffy stood up, trying hard to comprehend the request that had been laid before her. "Faith, this is-"
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do. This is just… this is too much. I gotta get out of here."
"Wait…" Faith's words fell on deaf ears as Buffy opened the door and stepped into the hall. One foot in front of the other as she made her way down to the guard's office.
"I need to go."
"Already? You don't have to sign out until four."
"I'm ready to go now."
"All right. Follow me."
Blindly walking through the halls, guard's keys jingling, doors buzzing and clanking behind, same route in reverse, but it didn't register as such. The only thing she could focus on was getting the hell out of this place, away from a very pregnant Faith and her ungodly request, and there – walking through that door to the parking lot.
"Miss Summers?"
"Yes?"
"I need you to sign out and turn in your visitor's badge before you leave."
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." Baby steps to the desk, unclipping the little rectangle claiming "VISITOR" from her shirt. Very grounding, signing her name. Back to reality. Not getting wrapped up in the tearful confessions of a girl she'd tried to kill. Who'd tried to kill her. Whatever.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Just a little…" A little what?
"I understand." Doubtful. "So we'll see you tomorrow then?"
"What?"
"You're on the list for tomorrow, same time. Actually, you're on here every day at two for the next week."
"Of course I am." Made perfect, Buffy-world sense.
"So, tomorrow then? Miss Summers?" But she was already out the door.
Circled the parking lot twice before realizing Joyce's SUV was right in front. Still couldn't claim it as her own. Had driven it blind for a month before working up the nerve to adjust the mirrors. If she sat in it long enough, she could catch a whiff of her mother's perfume. Especially when opening the glove compartment. Still held her sunglasses, in a flowered case. Now Mom, she would know exactly what to do in this situation. Could say no without questioning herself because of all those years of adult experience. This was a life-altering decision, posed to a girl barely done being a child. One who wasn't even alive a year ago. She was barely raising Dawn, but if it got to be too much, they could let the dishes sit and eat Pringles and oranges for dinner.
"My life is completely fucked." Relationship with Faith was complicated at best, too much warped history to produce rational thought at this juncture. There's a reason no slayer has ever had a child. Expiration date on the package. Next hell-god comes along, two kids orphaned instead of one. And those kinds of thoughts were not allowed to slip in. Ones sounding like this was even a possibility. Responsibilities limited to raising one child, a teenager, who was too much of a handful by herself. Laundry and dishes and sweeping and vacuuming, coupled with nightly slaughter and grueling hours at the Doublemeat Shithole, all equaling no time for anything or anyone else. Just enough money for the basics; no more call- waiting or Quilted Northern. Single-ply at the Summers house. Only Dawn's tearful pleas and a promise to switch to generic brands had stopped the basic cable from being axed.
Keys in ignition. Start car, put in drive, get the fuck out of this parking lot, out of LA. Nothing good ever came from visiting this city. Miles to go, but the long drive home would provide ample opportunity to reason herself out of any nagging doubt. By the time this car pulled into Sixteen-thirty Rivelo, she would be herself again.
That mantra repeated over the next few hours. Music and traffic and miles of freeway attempted to provide distraction from images and memories pounding her brain. The many sides of Faith she had known over the years boiled down to a pregnant girl in a prison infirmary. First time around, she hadn't visited the hospital; not once. Her own handiwork too much to bear witness to, because in the end, she had become Faith, wielding the knife, watching in fascinated horror as it tore through tender flesh. And the big secret, what she had never even admitted to herself, was the rush at the moment of impact, thinking she had taken a life, until the moment was stolen as the brunette tossed herself from the roof.
Fearful symmetry, that was. Both slayers willfully falling to their respective deaths. But hadn't all of that withered away during her respite in heaven? So easy to claim innocence for those past indiscretions. To lay all the guilt on "that girl", the one who died, the one who atoned for her sins in self-sacrifice. This girl, shiny and new yet old beyond reckoning, was just trying to stay between the lines as the car lumbered past the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. Thoughts jumbling together incoherently yet making sense long enough to scream "no" in answer to the question of the day. This familiar driveway strengthening her resolve. Hadn't even turned the key in the ignition and Willow was already opening the driver's door.
"Buffy-"
"I've had a long, weird day, Will. I hope whatever you're about to say can be solved with a simple staking." Legs on solid ground, every step echoing her firm decision.
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Tiny Willow smile. "But no, it can't. Buffy, there's someone here to see you."
And there, standing on her porch, in front of the open door. "Miss Summers. As always, it's a pleasure to see you again."
"I should have known you'd stop by. Hello, Quinton."
TBC
"What?"
"You could-"
"No, I heard what you said, I just mean – What?" Buffy stood up, trying hard to comprehend the request that had been laid before her. "Faith, this is-"
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do. This is just… this is too much. I gotta get out of here."
"Wait…" Faith's words fell on deaf ears as Buffy opened the door and stepped into the hall. One foot in front of the other as she made her way down to the guard's office.
"I need to go."
"Already? You don't have to sign out until four."
"I'm ready to go now."
"All right. Follow me."
Blindly walking through the halls, guard's keys jingling, doors buzzing and clanking behind, same route in reverse, but it didn't register as such. The only thing she could focus on was getting the hell out of this place, away from a very pregnant Faith and her ungodly request, and there – walking through that door to the parking lot.
"Miss Summers?"
"Yes?"
"I need you to sign out and turn in your visitor's badge before you leave."
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." Baby steps to the desk, unclipping the little rectangle claiming "VISITOR" from her shirt. Very grounding, signing her name. Back to reality. Not getting wrapped up in the tearful confessions of a girl she'd tried to kill. Who'd tried to kill her. Whatever.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Just a little…" A little what?
"I understand." Doubtful. "So we'll see you tomorrow then?"
"What?"
"You're on the list for tomorrow, same time. Actually, you're on here every day at two for the next week."
"Of course I am." Made perfect, Buffy-world sense.
"So, tomorrow then? Miss Summers?" But she was already out the door.
Circled the parking lot twice before realizing Joyce's SUV was right in front. Still couldn't claim it as her own. Had driven it blind for a month before working up the nerve to adjust the mirrors. If she sat in it long enough, she could catch a whiff of her mother's perfume. Especially when opening the glove compartment. Still held her sunglasses, in a flowered case. Now Mom, she would know exactly what to do in this situation. Could say no without questioning herself because of all those years of adult experience. This was a life-altering decision, posed to a girl barely done being a child. One who wasn't even alive a year ago. She was barely raising Dawn, but if it got to be too much, they could let the dishes sit and eat Pringles and oranges for dinner.
"My life is completely fucked." Relationship with Faith was complicated at best, too much warped history to produce rational thought at this juncture. There's a reason no slayer has ever had a child. Expiration date on the package. Next hell-god comes along, two kids orphaned instead of one. And those kinds of thoughts were not allowed to slip in. Ones sounding like this was even a possibility. Responsibilities limited to raising one child, a teenager, who was too much of a handful by herself. Laundry and dishes and sweeping and vacuuming, coupled with nightly slaughter and grueling hours at the Doublemeat Shithole, all equaling no time for anything or anyone else. Just enough money for the basics; no more call- waiting or Quilted Northern. Single-ply at the Summers house. Only Dawn's tearful pleas and a promise to switch to generic brands had stopped the basic cable from being axed.
Keys in ignition. Start car, put in drive, get the fuck out of this parking lot, out of LA. Nothing good ever came from visiting this city. Miles to go, but the long drive home would provide ample opportunity to reason herself out of any nagging doubt. By the time this car pulled into Sixteen-thirty Rivelo, she would be herself again.
That mantra repeated over the next few hours. Music and traffic and miles of freeway attempted to provide distraction from images and memories pounding her brain. The many sides of Faith she had known over the years boiled down to a pregnant girl in a prison infirmary. First time around, she hadn't visited the hospital; not once. Her own handiwork too much to bear witness to, because in the end, she had become Faith, wielding the knife, watching in fascinated horror as it tore through tender flesh. And the big secret, what she had never even admitted to herself, was the rush at the moment of impact, thinking she had taken a life, until the moment was stolen as the brunette tossed herself from the roof.
Fearful symmetry, that was. Both slayers willfully falling to their respective deaths. But hadn't all of that withered away during her respite in heaven? So easy to claim innocence for those past indiscretions. To lay all the guilt on "that girl", the one who died, the one who atoned for her sins in self-sacrifice. This girl, shiny and new yet old beyond reckoning, was just trying to stay between the lines as the car lumbered past the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. Thoughts jumbling together incoherently yet making sense long enough to scream "no" in answer to the question of the day. This familiar driveway strengthening her resolve. Hadn't even turned the key in the ignition and Willow was already opening the driver's door.
"Buffy-"
"I've had a long, weird day, Will. I hope whatever you're about to say can be solved with a simple staking." Legs on solid ground, every step echoing her firm decision.
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Tiny Willow smile. "But no, it can't. Buffy, there's someone here to see you."
And there, standing on her porch, in front of the open door. "Miss Summers. As always, it's a pleasure to see you again."
"I should have known you'd stop by. Hello, Quinton."
TBC