Chapter 13: I'll Never Tell

With worn-down GameCube controllers in their hands, Andrew and Illyria sit on a utilitarian sofa in the Cleveland branch's common area. The hobbit-like man and omnipotent God couldn't be more contrary; not just in their histories, identities, appearances, and abilities, but in the simple yet distinct ways they each carry themselves. Andrew slouches against the brutally orange cushions, desperately trying to satisfy an itch on his elbow that refuses to cease. He constantly readjusts for comfort and runs a hand absentmindedly through his messy curls every few minutes. Illyria, however, remains utterly stationary. She doesn't move a muscle, doesn't breath, doesn't blink. She sits erect on the couch, staring straight ahead with her ethereal blue eyes. They are polar opposites, in every way, shape and form, united only by an interest in video games.

As the menu screen appears on the TV in front of them, Andrew shifts his head toward Illyria to give her instructions.

"So, you have to collect the fruit -"

"I know," Illyria interrupts in her stoic voice. "I have completed this mission before."

"You've played Super Monkey Ball?"

"Yes. I adapt quickly," she tells him, holding the controller upside down. Andrew carefully flips it over in her hands and laughs nervously as Illyria watches with pointed eyes.

"Works better if you … yeah. Okay. So, if I happen to beat you, you're not going to like … kill me, right?" he asks with a hopeful smile.

"I assure you, I am not easily bested."

"Y-You didn't … answer … the question …" Andrew's voice trails off.

"Let us begin."

The sound of video game chaos fills the room as Buffy storms into the nearby kitchen with Faith's spirited voice following behind.

"So, here's what I'm thinking," Faith begins. Buffy can tell she's gonna try to convince her to do something. "The girls could use a night off-"

"Faith -"

"They've been working so hard -"

"There's no way." Buffy grabs a strange-looking muffin from the tile countertop and sniffs it. "Is this blueberry or chocolate?" she asks herself before turning to the almost-empty common room next door and raising her voice. "Is it so hard to leave a sign?!"

"Come on, B," Faith says, trying to regain her attention. "We know better than anyone that this job isn't possible without a healthy self-care routine."

"I don't see how bar-hopping is a healthy form of self-care," Buffy responds with a mouthful of muffin. "Ha! Chocolate!"

"I never said bar-hopping," Faith notes with a shrug. "Those are your words, not mine. But I will say, a lot of the Slayers are 21 -"

"And a lot of them aren't. I'm sure some of the girls are perfectly content coping with slayage by staying in and curling up with a good book or -" Buffy is interrupted by Faith's cynical laughter, which makes something inside of her flinch. "What the hell is so funny?"

"Curling up with a good book? What happened to you, B?" Buffy groans at her and walks toward the library section of the common area. Faith speeds after and continues. "What happened to the girl who used to study at the Bronze just as an excuse to dance her ass off and flirt with cute boys?"

"She grew up," Buffy says with a smudge of chocolate on the corner of her lip.

"I beg to differ," Faith says, blocking Buffy from storming away again. "That girl's still in there. And she's itching for a good time."

"Am not," she lies. Detecting the smallest smile on Buffy's face, Faith points to her.

"Are too!"

The former enemies are on the cusp of being playful with each other - the way they were before their relationship took a turn for the worst. Realizing this at the same time and feeling moderately uncomfortable by it, the girls clear their throats.

"I suppose we could all use a night out to unwind," the blonde concludes with an exhausted sigh. It's far too early for Buffy to argue with Faith, who never lets up.

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about!" Faith cheers, smacking the library table's surface victoriously after winning over Buffy. "I'll let the squad know," she adds, wearing a mischievous grin that makes Buffy twinge again.

What the hell has Faith in such a good mood today?

Faith turns around and finds that Willow has stumbled into the room holding a stack of books that partially cover her face. They share an ambiguous look while Buffy gets distracted by her muffin.

"Oh, hi. I-I was just returning some books. Here. A-At the library. Where the books live," Willow stammers.

Faith, who is a lot more skilled at 'playing it cool', gives her a simple shrug.

"Return away," she says before turning back to Buffy. "Gotta jet. Later, B."

On her way out the door, Faith brushes against Willow's side sneakily and whispers, "Broom closet in ten."

Willow's olive eyes go wide in response to the slithering beauty's words. She chews on the inside of her lip and forgets what she came to the room to do in the first place.

"Hey, Wil, got a second?" Buffy asks Willow, snapping her back into reality.

"What? Huh? What?" she says, looking up to find her friend's earnest gaze. Her eyes are already hot with passion thinking about the night before. "Oh, sure, Buff. What's up?"

Buffy follows Willow's rapid steps towards the stacks and begins talking before they get there.

"We captured a werewolf on patrol last night. He woke up this morning scared to death, had no idea what happened to him. Must've just turned," Buffy informs her friend, who looks awfully distracted with making sure the books are put away in alphabetical order (but also in a timely fashion). "I um … I called Oz."

Willow's head turns sharply towards Buffy, who continues.

"It's just, he's been helping other werewolves come to terms with the change and I thought -"

"No, no, it makes sense," says Willow, storing one last book on the shelf. "So he'll be coming here then?"

"Yeah. I mean, I still have a few more days until I'm Scotland-bound. I figured one more awkward reunion couldn't hurt. He'll be here tomorrow."

Buffy carries on eating away at her chocolate dessert. Without words, they both make the decision to walk towards the exit through the kitchen. Willow takes a deep breath and finds Buffy's chestnut eyes, a hesitant smile dawning on her face.

"It'll be good to see him," she says and almost means it. In that moment, Willow finally notices the smeared chocolate on Buffy's face as they enter the kitchen. "Hey, Buff, you got a little some -"

The two girls stop abruptly at the sight of Spike sleepily standing in front of the microwave, heating up a mug of blood.

"Oh, hi," Spike greets them both, though his eyes linger on Buffy, who stands there looking more perplexed than ever.

"Spike … it's daylight. What are you doing awake?"

Willow raises an eyebrow at Buffy's question, taken aback by the level of girlfriend-like concern in her voice.

"A little B+ never hurt anyone," Spike replies. "I mean, I suppose it would if I took it from the vein." The joke doesn't sit well with the women in front of him. "W-Which I wouldn't." Wow, tough room, he thinks. "Anyways, a warm cup of blood helps a fella sleep. It's a thing." The microwave beeps. Saved by the bell. Buffy and Willow watch him pop open the oven and retrieve his blood before refocusing his gaze on the Slayer. He clocks the smudge of chocolate on Buffy's mouth.

"Uh, you got a little something on your …" he says, gesturing to her lips.

"What? I - what?" Buffy blushes brightly and starts frantically rubbing at her face with little accuracy. Spike reaches out with his thumb and casually swipes away the chocolate splotch on the corner of her lips, while Willow eyes the two of them.

"There you are." Spike smiles warmly at Buffy and is suddenly weirded out by his own boldness with her in public. "Right then," he finally chokes out, leaving the room and taking the putrid scent of blood with him. Buffy waits until he's far enough away to start ranting.

"God, I had food on my face the whole time?" she says, looking at her reflection on the stainless steel fridge to be sure it's gone. "Of course Faith would let me walk around like that," she mumbles to herself before redirecting her attention to Willow. "At least you tried to -" Buffy stops herself, noticing a bewildered look on her best friend's face. "What is it?"

"Nothing, you guys just seemed … awfully cuddly-wuddly just now."

"Who?" Buffy asks with squinting eyes. Willow glances at the door that Spike just exited through and then looks back to Buffy, who gets the message.

"What? No. We just … we have a … we're not … we …" she splutters.

"Hm. Sounds boring and not at all complicated," Willow responds cheekily as she links her arm through Buffy's. The witch decides not to pry further, as she herself is engaging in a mysterious and morally questionable relationship - one she has to attend to in five minutes. "So warm blood helps vampires sleep?" Willow asks on their way out the door. "Is it like … the vampire equivalent of humans drinking warm milk before bed?"

"Gross," Buffy replies, wrapping an arm around Willow's lower back. "But probably."

With a sinuous movement in her walk, Faith makes her way to the nearest broom closet and is stopped by the sensation of being watched. She instinctively whips around with a raised fist and preps to fight the culprit before looking up at cold, brown eyes that she knows and loves.

"Angel," she murmurs to the tall man hovering over her shoulder. "Sorry. Force of habit," Faith adds while bringing her right hook down to her side. "But shit, use your words next time … instead of lurking in the shadows."

"Sorry. Force of habit," Angel responds in his signature shy-guy voice.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of being stalked this morning?"

"Do you have a minute?"

"I have about five if you want 'em," Faith says, glancing at the closet door from afar. Angel pulls her aside gently, away from prying eyes and possible eavesdroppers. "By the way, isn't it usually 'lights out' for the undead right now?" she asks, growing more and more confused by his mysterious behavior. Angel's silence starts to worry her. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"Do you know … if Buffy is seeing anyone?"

Faith's narrow eyebrows curve downward as she looks at the mess of a man in front of her. She slumps forward and lets out an annoyed huff.

Are you kidding me? He got all cryptic for that?

"Angel, I'm gonna stop ya right there. I am not the person to talk to about this," Faith declares gruffly. "There are like, 200 other girls in this building who would love to play 'high-school romance' with you. Knock yourself out," she finishes, giving him a bro-like slap on the shoulder before continuing her strut down the hall.

"Is it Spike?" he asks earnestly, frozen in place. "It's Spike, right?"

"I don't exactly have insider knowledge on B's personal life," Faith grumbles, turning back around. "We just work together. Barely even that." Angel notes the hint of hurt in her voice.

To one that's paying attention, it's evident that Faith wishes that wasn't true; that they could go back in time and have a fresh start with each other. The few months of gal-pal slayage, dancing at the Bronze without a care in the world and late-night hangs with Buffy were some of the best months of her life. She was a friend to her - a real friend; the first one she ever had. But the small slice of bliss that came with being Buffy Summers' bud died when Faith took her first human life, along with any hope for reconciliation.

Faith pulls herself together and finds the vampire's curious stare.

"If anything, we work separately, next to each other," she adds cynically, reminding Angel of a certain bleached-haired someone.

"Yeah … I get that."

The clock is ticking and Faith knows she has about one minute left before her afternoon rendezvous with Willow. Nonetheless, she can't stop herself from saying what everyone in the building seems to know besides Angel.

"Listen, big guy, I know what this is and it is not about Buffy. If it was, it would be easier, wouldn't it? You know how that story ends and it doesn't end happy," Faith cruelly points out, causing Angel to avoid eye contact. "This is about you. Moping around since you got here, acting like you don't have a place in the world anymore. You're afraid to move on."

His face is suddenly ridden with confusion - and offense. Afraid to move on?

"What? That's not - "

"Not from Buffy," she clarifies for him. "From L.A."

Angel is shaken by her words. He had made great efforts in the last few years to not get too attached - to anything. He let go of Buffy so she could have a normal relationship with a normal guy. That worked out great. He let go of saving Fred to save the world. That worked out even better. He even let go of his own son so Connor could have a demon-less future. That one ... remains to be seen. But Angel underestimated how attached he'd get to L.A. - the place that showed him he could be more.

"You lost everything. Everyone," Faith utters with minimal effort to not hurt his feelings. "Sorry, but … it's true, man. They're gone and now you don't even know who you are. So, what? You're gonna run back to a doomed relationship to retain some kind of normalcy? Instead of facing your real problems?"

Angel's eyes say "Wow, harsh', but Faith doesn't dial back her tough love. She knows she's getting somewhere with him.

"Okay, fine. You're not the CEO of some fancy-shmancy law firm anymore. Big deal, you look kinda weird in suits and that place was evil," she says sardonically. "And yes, you lost friends. But who here hasn't?"

The Mayor's face pops into Faith's head and she quickly pushes away the image before continuing.

"All of us are running from something." There's a shift in her voice, her body language, the look in her eyes. The woman in front of Angel is screaming for him to get the message. "But that's why we fight. The mission hasn't changed, Angel. You have. And you gotta roll with it." Faith considers putting a friendly hand on his arm or patting his back but decides it isn't their style. "Plus, I care about you too much to watch you become a total loser."

Angel takes a moment to think over Faith's speech; to look for anything faulty in it. But he knows it's useless. Everything she told him, while heartless, was right; he doesn't know who he is with the Scoobies because he didn't find himself in Sunnydale; he found himself in L.A. - with his own team.

"When did you become so insightful?" asks Angel.

"Probably sometime during my life-sentence."

"Maybe I shouldn't be taking advice from a wanted criminal."

"Touché," she responds with a charming smile.

"But thank you."

"Hey, I figured you could use a friend," Faith shrugs.

"Yeah, I seem to be lacking in that department. Which you so kindly pointed out to me. Several times in the last few minutes."

Willow sits in a dark and dank broom closet, quietly rehearsing how she's going to greet Faith when she shows up for their morning hanky-panky.

"Oh, well, hello there, Ms. Lehane. Come here often?" she mumbles to herself before indulging in a series of giggles. Her joy is suddenly disrupted when she hears Faith and Angel walking down the hall together past the broom closet. She presses the side of her face against the wooden door, listening to their voices trail off and away. Willow glances at her watch and realizes how much time has passed since Faith was supposed to make an appearance.

Is she … blowing me off? Th-This was her idea.

Willow sighs, disappointed and grumpy; she takes a moment to really think about Faith - what she actually knows about her.

Rough childhood, rocky history with Buffy, reformed homicidal-maniac, hot, really hot, like too hot to be real ...

And then what everyone else says about Faith that Willow doesn't want to believe.

She's non-committal.

Willow is not aiming for a serious relationship. The only thing she's aiming for is something different from what she's experienced - and that's Faith. Faith, who is walking away from their date with Angel, a guy who she's definitely expressed interest in in the past.

I'm not jealous, I'm not jealous, I am not jealous.

Willow slowly and silently opens the closet door, peeking her head out to view Angel and Faith as two little dots in the distance.

She's actually blowing me off …

Willow squints at the distant figures and hears the faint sound of her lover's venomous laughter at something Angel said. The witch's heart falls into her stomach, filled with a feeling she can't convince herself isn't jealousy.

I can't do this.

Willow swallows hard and feels a sharp pain against her throat as she closes the door behind her. Her fingers curl into fists that she buries in her cardigan pockets before traipsing away back to her room, leaving behind her seven minutes in heaven. Willow's phone vibrates against her trembling hand and she stops dead in her tracks. She lifts the small screen in front of her face to find a text from Faith.

10:32 AM

Faith: Yo, I got held up talking strategy with Giles. Raincheck?

Willow scowls at her phone and mumbles to herself.

"Really? You're gonna include Giles in your lie? Truly diabolical," she huffs, rolling her eyes. Willow stands in the middle of the corridor, considering Faith's proposal of a raincheck.

Her and Angel are probably just friends. But why lie to me?

I mean, she's not exactly his type.

Then again, she's not exactly my type either.

God, maybe none of this was a good idea.

It felt right. It did. Last night. This morning. Right up until this moment.

Willow paces back and forth in the narrow hallway, massaging her temples all the while.

We're not exclusive. We're not. But that doesn't mean I agreed to being lied to. And manipulated. And played for a fool.

Her eyes heat up again but not with desire. With hot tears that bubble over her lenses.

Maybe I rushed into this. This is too early. After Kennedy. After ... what happened.

Xander comes strolling down the hallway, obnoxiously humming the tune to "Accidentally in Love" by Counting Crows when he sees Willow leaned up against the wall.

"Hey, Will." His lackadaisical demeanor disappears completely when he sees the look on her face. "Will? Will, are you okay?"

"Yeah." She runs her thumb across the keyboard of her phone and deletes Faith's message before returning to Xander's worried eyes. "I'm fine."