Author's Note: So yeah...this has been a long time in coming. It isn't nearly as long as the first chapter, but I don't think making it longer will help any. After this chapter, it's going to switch between Faith's and Buffy's POVs. Thanks for reading and enjoy.

Faith POV

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I wake up with light dancing on the inside of my eyelids – and what feels like needles sticking in my wrist where I broke it.

Or bone shards sticking out.

Opening my eyes, I see the window's open, curtains pulled aside to let in a cool breeze and sunlight. Turning back to look at my arm, I realize what Ms. Calendar meant when she was talking about a power center for Red. Huh…is this what shock feels like? the question floats to the front of my mind for a second, a vague realization that shock is probably responsible for the dulled pain in my wrist going almost unnoticed.

She's sitting on the coffee table, Between Xander's legs. The realization is enough to be surprising…why I'm surprised, though, I don't understand, not at first. …they aren't awkward about it, another corner of my mind whispers, naughty and suggestive, but also as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Red, her elbows leaning wearily on her knees, holds her hands in front of her, my wrist floating in a cloud of buzzing air concentrated between her splayed fingers, lips moving silently.

My arm gradually grows warmer, bones glowing white-hot through skin turned orange from the light. That is one helluva flashlight, I think idly, staring at my arm in fascination.

The glow fades slowly as Red's eyes slip shut. She sways slightly and Xander slips an arm around her waist, easily lifting her up into her arms.

I'm about to say something – anything, even (especially) a lameass "thank you" when I see the look on his face – "royally fuckin' pissed" doesn't even begin to cover it – and the words come to an abrupt halt in the back of my throat, and all I can do is watch him carry Red upstairs.

It's only now that I realize, as the feeling returns to my arm, that I hadn't been in any pain during the spell. It felt like something was sticking through my skin…but it didn't hurt…just another reason to thank her…

"He's mad," a voice says from above my head. "But he'll calm down," Buffy sighs tiredly, taking Red's seat on the coffee table.

Oh. I did not know you were sitting...That close. How did I miss the fact that she was sitting right there? Keeping the surprise off my face isn't even...argh. Fuck it. "How can you be sure?" I ask her, the first time I've actually said what was actually on my mind about something other than guys or slaying. My stomach flips, the glittering amusement in her eyes at my question, the simple excitement hidden in her eyes…shit. She's talking, when did she start talking???

And how the fuck do I get her to look at me like that again?

That look in her eyes fades and she no longer looks like a kid in a candy store. She smiles slightly, "Willow talked to Ms. Calendar about the spell earlier, and Ms. Calendar said she'd like doing the spell because she'd be able to see the bones healing. It's supposed to be very scientific or something. Once she wakes up and starts babbling about how neat and cool it was," she shrugs, that same little smirk on her lips. "He'll be a goner. Won't be able to stay mad 'cause she's so excited about it," she explains, acting like nothing's wrong – again.

"Right." My voice catches, the word more sob than anything else. Will she ever talk about me like that? Like we're good friends?

Turning away from B to avoid meeting her gaze, I struggle to regain control over my breathing without her noticing.

She notices - of course.

"Hey." I can hear the frown in her voice even as an impatient hand tugs lightly on my arm. The rustle of fabric and click of metal-on-wood is all I need to tell me she's slid off the table to kneel in the scant space between polished wood and the couch. Her arm slips across my chest to grip my shoulder. Her other hand slips under my neck to cup the back of my head so she can force me to look at her. "What's the matter?" She shifts off the floor to sit next to me on the couch. "Faith?" She leans over me and it's suddenly too much - the concern in her eyes and voice, the weight of her arm on my chest, the hand on the back of my neck...wonder what it would be like to ki-no! Shit. I can't do that! I can't think like that! Fuck.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I mutter, shoving her away to scramble off the couch…as well as anyone can with a busted knee – when did that happen, anyway? - that is. I don't know how I make it to the bathroom without help, slamming the door behind me as fast as possible and collapsing against it.

I don't feel sick in the "fuck I'm gonna Ralph" sense, though…the shitty feeling sits up in my chest, a bit off center; just to the left a ways.

That damn song…Giles thought she was getting sloppy with her jump kicks. Blamed it on the too-fast techno-whatever she always brought to work out to. G-man told her to go through the motions slower; she argued about it, pouting some. Said she couldn't work out to techno and not go full-throttle. That comment alone almost…fuck. My foot jerks out of frustration at the memory, bad knee slamming into the cabinet. "Fuck…" grasping my leg in pain, all I can do is wait for the ache to subside. Ache…right. The cabinet door dented on impact, but I'm too busy to notice, wrapped up in the memories playing out in my head. Giles didn't even miss a beat; told her to bring in some slower music, so she did.

I don't really care for techno; not as workout music, anyway. I prefer something harder. Metal; alt-rock, maybe. Techno gets my blood going in a way I never want to think about when I'm not in a dance club, when getting hot and sweaty with somebody…when it's bad. "Inappropriate", as Giles'd say. "Fuck," I mutter. "Great…guess I really am crazy…shit." Why's life gotta be so hard? I can't think about that…God knows B'd beat me shitless, if she knew…

Joseph Arthur…didn't know anything about the guy except his name and the title of one song then, don't know much more now, aside from what he looks like. The other one thing I did – do – know was that his music put a sexy little sway in B's hips unlike any techno shit on the face of the planet. It took her three tries to get the roundhouse kick right going in slow-motion. I don't know why, but it did…she got a bit frustrated, I guess.… That was back when things were good with us. When we'd go to the Bronze together and she was oblivious to how shitty she was to Red and Xand. I noticed…too greedy to do anything about it, though. Managed to convince myself things would fix themselves…B, Red, Xand…and me. We'd be the four fucking musketeers.

Shit. Yeah, right.

Joseph Arthur and B doing all her workouts in slow motion – that was the day I fell in love with her.

And B wouldn't do so much as give me a pitying glance before shoving a boot down my throat. Life's grand, ain't it?

Ugh. Fuck this. Pushing away from the door to slide across the tile, I stop in front of the toilet and lay down; far enough from the door that it won't smack me in the head if someone comes barging in.

Propping my legs up on the toilet lid, I try and relax, pulling my hair up and away from my neck to fan behind my head. A few minutes pass before that gets old; sitting up with only some difficulty – certainly not what I would've expected – I strip my shirt off before laying back down. The tile is cool against my skin, just what I need to calm the frayed nerves over the near…something with B.

The last thing I remember thinking is…

I could've avoided all of this; if only I'd…