When I woke up, I had already made my decision. I had dreamt about Buffy. Nothing in depth, just me watching her through a glass wall that I couldn't break down, that I couldn't get through. I watched her live out her life in that glass bubble and I was never once allowed through.
I couldn't let that happen. I had to see her and have her see me back.
I took a deep breath and got out of bed and dressed for the day. I may not ever get to have Buffy the way I sometimes dreamed, but I could at least try to be in her life again. Oh, and dream I did about Buffy. She would pop up from time to time. In my coma she popped up a few times even, and I was barely even alive then.
"You wanna know the deal? Human weakness. Never goes away. Even his," I found myself saying to the dream Buffy. We were in my old apartment, the nice one, the one where she'd stabbed me shortly before I slipped into a never-ending sleep. I wondered why I was dreaming about giving Buffy advice instead of my typical less than appropriate dream sequences.
Human weakness… as much as I tried to eliminate mine, I still had it in boatloads. Specifically, she was my weakness. Buffy was everything that I wanted. Not for myself, though I had attempted to convince myself I just wanted her life at one point. I actually just plain wanted her.
"This your mind or mine?" Buffy asked in turn. I pondered that. Dream Buffy was suggesting that this was a shared dream between the two of us. Could that be true? Was this a slayer dream, not just the typical fantasy? It would certainly explain Buffy's clothes still being on.
"Beats me. Getting towards that time," I said. I wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed like it was getting time for me to go. For this dream to end. Who knows? Dreams rarely made complete sense, and slayer dreams were no exception.
"How are you going to fit all this stuff?" Buffy asked, gesturing to the stuff in my apartment. I guess she was trying to figure this all out, to find out what I was trying to say to her. What was I trying to say? Was I trying to tell her how to beat the mayor?
I had tried hard to please the mayor- I'd stolen for him, spied for him, and killed for him. All of this was just to spite Buffy and her friends, to show that I could be something on my own too. It was a twisted idea, but I've never been good at the whole planning thing. Now that I was obviously of no use to the mayor anymore, what was I to do? I would have to revert to my number one priority- keep Buffy safe. Yeah, I know I'd fought with her in ways that could be lethal before, but I don't think I'd ever actually be able to kill her. Scratch that. I know I wouldn't be able to.
"Not gonna. It's yours," I answered softly. It wasn't like I could use it anyway considering the fact that I was asleep. I wasn't quite sure in what way, but it seemed like a way that meant I wouldn't be waking any time soon.
"I can't use all of this," Buffy replied, face slightly upset. I sighed internally.
"Just take what you need. You ready?" I asked. It was time. I could feel her slipping away from me, and that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to keep her here in this dream with me. I'd fucked up so badly every time I saw her in real life recently, but maybe in this dream I could have a clean slate.
I stepped closer to touch her face, thinking that this was it. I would pull her closer and kiss her. Slayer dream or not, I wanted to touch her in my dreams regardless of the circumstances. Well, I wanted to touch her no matter if I was conscious or not, but I seemed to have a harder time reeling it in whilst in a dream of any kind.
As soon as my fingertips brushed her cheek, the dream dissolved.
That was one of the clearest dreams from my eight months in a coma. When I woke up, I immediately went to find her. But, of course, I messed up. I switched lives with her and learned that we truly were similar in ways that I'd never known before, but she was perhaps a better person than me in ways I'd never pondered. She just wanted to protect her family and friends. I just wanted to protect her, but I wasn't very good at that. I was too often the one on the other end of her hurt.
But all this thinking of dreams made me make my decision. She should still be at school since it was a Thursday, so I would go and wait near her dorm until she came back from classes so I could announce my presence.
If she was only going to invade my dreams, I may as well see her in real life too. I was already damaged, but that was synonymous with me saying I'm already in love with her.
Is that fucked up or what? I can't get her out of my head, but I bet she's tried her hardest to never think of me ever again. How much worse would it have been if I had managed to kiss her in that dream, one of the dreams we shared? She'd wish to unremember me even more than before. She'd view it to be sick; I'm her worst nightmare in some ways, and to have that person in love with her…
I shook my head from those thoughts. I'd made up my mind, and it wasn't the time to go changing it.
On my way to UC Sunnydale, I thought about what her reaction would be. She'd probably go into fighting mode since the last time she saw me was when I'd needed to be restrained and thrown in prison. I'd hijacked her body and taken it for a joyride, thoroughly messing things up by having sex with her boyfriend, flirting with her arch nemesis, and insulting her best friend's new girlfriend. Smooth, right?
I always had the right moves until Buffy came along.
So I'd have to be prepared to fight her, but only defensively. I couldn't risk hurting her. Maybe I should just let her get in a few punches and then pin her or something so I could explain myself. It seemed as good a plan as any. There was no precedent here for me on how to restore a friendship that had never really existed. Actually, there was no precedent for me trying to salvage any sort of relationship at all. Usually I just didn't care enough to try.
When I arrived to campus, I found a place under a couple trees next to Stevenson where I could chill for a little while. I had no idea how long she'd be in class for, so I broke off a few tree limbs and started carving them into stakes using the knife I had with me. Might as well be productive.
That started to get boring pretty quick, so I tried people watching. Usually the only people watching I do is to tell who's a demon and who's human. That or who will be willing to sleep with me. Neither of those was particularly applicable today, unfortunately.
I saw a couple walking the sidewalk- a girl with blonde hair and a guy with darker hair. Their hands swung between them and I wondered how long they'd been together. A week? A month? A year? It was impossible to tell. They were smiling and laughing. Maybe he'd just told her a joke. Maybe she'd just made fun of his old teacher. The possibilities were endless. I wondered if I could ever be that at ease with someone.
I'd done the nasty with many people, but I skipped right over the usual first when it came to romance- holding hands and the like. In fact, the only person's hand I can remember holding since my mom's would be Buffy. She'd grabbed it on more than one occasion to drag me away or lead me somewhere to slay. I supposed it was something she did with her friends, but I'd never seen her do that with anyone else. Maybe she just liked to keep track of where I was. Maybe hand-holding was like putting a leash on someone.
I abandoned the couple I'd been watching and went back to carving another stake while focusing my eyes on a girl walking by herself with her head down toward the ground. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Before I could start to make up a story for her, I was brought back to the real world.
"Planning on using that to kill her?" Buffy asked, standing a few feet away from me.
To most of the world her posture would probably look relaxed, but I noticed that she was ready to jump into battle because of a few things. Her legs were slightly spread and knees bent, ready to spring at me if needed. Her one hand was on jacket pocket, which might look inconspicuous if I didn't know she had a knife in there. And her arm muscles went tensed up for a fight.
She was so damn pretty. I tried not to think about that part though.
I put my stake down on the grass slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves. That would only set her on me. On second thought, maybe it was best that I had chosen to meet her in the middle of the day on her campus. There were people all around that would witness if she tried to murder me.
"Not a chance," I said seriously. There would be a time for joking, but I knew this wasn't it. If I wanted anything resembling a chance to talk to her, I would need to take every word seriously.
Buffy did not relax a bit. "Sure? I know you wouldn't have any guilt if you did kill her. Last I heard, you were supposed to be in a women's prison for exactly that crime. I was finally able to sleep at night knowing you weren't free," she said, venom laced in her words.
It stung, I won't lie, but I could totally see where she was coming from. If I were her, I'd hate me too. Actually, if I were her, I'd probably already have a knife against my throat, crowds of other students be damned.
"Prison wouldn't do me any good. The only good I have left is to kill evil. Sitting in a cell won't help me make up for the innocent lives I've ruined," I replied evenly. It wasn't even a start on my path to redemption, but I had to say something. Buffy only reached further into her jacket pocket, securing her hand on the handle of her knife. I wondered idly what kind of knife it was.
"It might not do you any good, but it would do the rest of the world a service," Buffy responded through gritted teeth. Okay, that was fair. I still had to keep from showing the slightest sheen of tears that threatened to come to my eyes. She was Buffy. Her words stuck with me, good or bad.
"B…" I started, but her eyes just narrowed into a glare. Nothing I could say would be enough for her to relax even a little bit. It was time to improvise.
"Look, I'm going to stand up, okay?" I began again. Okay, so she actually pulled out the knife a bit at that. I squinted at the gleam of metal, trying to discern what kind of knife it was, but then I refocused. "I'm going to stand up, and you're going to come over right behind me and put that knife to my back so no one around here will see it. Then you're going to direct me to someplace we can talk without witnesses."
Buffy stared at me long and hard. I squirmed under her stare, feeling her eyes all over me. I know it wasn't her checking me out, but having her eyes on me at all still gave me that feeling, especially after all this time.
"Okay," she replied softly. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and moved as slowly as possible into a crouching position. "You make any sudden moves and I throw this knife at your knee caps… if you're lucky."
Threats. Okay. I could deal with threats.
I continued my slow and steady ascension to a standing position. I winced at my internal use of the word ascension. When I was finally standing, Buffy moved swiftly toward me and behind me. I felt the tip of a knife graze my back and I let out the smallest gasp. It pierced my skin, just barely, but the feeling was still awful. Buffy was driving a knife into me again, and that was something I could barely withstand.
"Walk. We're going up to my room. Lucky for you, Willow's out with Tara for the rest of the day," Buffy whispered in my ear. I got chills from the feel of her breath on my ear. I did as I was told, following her quiet instructions to go into the building and then up to her room, opening the door for us.
As soon as we were inside, Buffy quickly shut the door and pushed me away from her, knife now out in the open. My eyes widened as I recognized it. It was my knife, the one I'd gotten from the mayor. The one that she had almost killed me with before.
I wanted badly to make a comment about how she kept a piece of me to remember me by, but I restrained myself. She could tell I noticed the knife she carried with her as daily protection. My words were unnecessary.
"So, care to tell me why the hell you're not locked up far away from here?" Buffy spat out. She should be terrifying- I knew she was incredibly strong and pissed off at me and carrying a knife whilst I was unarmed. But all I could focus on was the fact that Buffy ready to fight is a very attractive sight.
I cleared my throat. "I already told you that. I know it's not a good enough answer, but it's the only one I got. Why don't you ask the questions that you're really wanting to know the answers to?" I knew it was risky to be that bold with her, to assume I knew somewhat what was in her mind, but that's just who I am. Even in the face of danger I maintain confidence. Sure, I might be adjusting the teasing I do and such in this special situation. But my confidence? Nope, can't let that slip.
She glared at me and advanced closer, putting the knife to my neck. My breath caught in my throat because I knew she wouldn't hesitate to use it. I'd already felt the sting of that blade in my stomach before. In fact, some nights I woke up from my nightmares swearing I could still feel blood seeping from the healed wound she'd graced me with that night in my old apartment.
Her eyes were locked with mine and it made my heart beat faster from both the adrenaline of the danger presented and the fact that she was so close to me. The knife to my throat like that reminded me of another time she held a knife there, when I'd been holding a knife to hers as well. We'd both frozen, unwilling to actually kill the other. I'd told her she wasn't ready to kill me, which was true enough for a while, and then I'd kissed her forehead. I'd wanted to kiss her outright, but I chickened out.
Pulling myself out of the past, I took in a shaky breath to say something, anything, but she stole the moment.
"I should kill you, you know. If Xander or Willow were here…" she trailed off. "Or if you were carrying a weapon," she added begrudgingly. So I had made the right decision in leaving the knives and crossbow at home. Good to know.
She was talking to me. Actually talking- opening her mouth, using words, directing them at me. It had been months since that had happened, and I was in awe of it. Now, of course, that wasn't exactly something that I would usually be happy about, but even with the threats she'd given me, all things considered, I was getting off pretty easy so far. She hadn't even punched me.
"I'd rather you not, if my opinion counts for anything," I replied honestly with a hint of snark. I couldn't help it. She was so damn teaseable. She shot me another glare, but this one lacked the heat of the previous one. That was improvement.
"It doesn't. Ever," she responded. It was said so matter-of-factly that my heart sank more in my chest. She was implying that nothing I ever said or felt meant anything to her, and that cut me more than the knife in her hand ever had.
"Regardless, you are right about one thing- I have questions. I want to know how long ago you escaped. I want to know how you escaped too, but that can wait. Even more, I want to know why you're here instead of halfway to Canada or something." So she didn't actually ask any questions, but I bit my tongue on calling her out on that fact.
"I escaped pretty much as soon as they caught me. For a while I just wandered around, but for the past month or so I've been in town. And I'm here instead of Canada because of you, to be honest." It was much more honest than I'd been planning on being, in fact. I hurried to add on a snarky comment to balance out that little glimpse of my soul I'd just given her. "By the way, if I had to get out of the country, I'd pick Mexico. Weather's much better."
She snorted. "I thought you were from Boston. Wouldn't Canada's weather be more like that?" she asked.
I raised a eyebrow at her. "Really? Out of everything I've said, that's what you're focusing on?" I questioned. She gave me half a shrug and I felt the knife slipping away from my neck. "Yeah, I guess you're right, but now that I've been to Cali, I can say I like it a hell of a lot better in the warm."
She kept looking at me with this conflicted look in her eyes that I've seen so many times before. Like when I suggested we steal weapons. Like before just about every time she hit me first. I wondered what she was debating on now. I hoped it was to remove the knife from my neck.
It seemed I was right. She did remove the blade from my neck, but she kept it gripped firmly in her hand. "Faith… I never stopped thinking about everything that happened between us. I tortured myself over it, trying to see if there was anything I could have done better to keep you from…" Buffy trailed off. I knew where she was heading with that one.
I tried not to read into what she was saying. She was just talking about keeping me from going to the dark side, I knew that, but it was so easy to listen selectively, to hear the words "I never stopped thinking about us." To hear "Trying to see if there was anything I could have done better to keep you."
"I know. You didn't do anything wrong, B. I fucked up, like usual. But I don't wanna always be a screw-up, you know? It's time for some change," I admitted. This whole conversation was going from discomfort to discomfort- knives when I was unarmed, seeing Buffy look at me with pure anger, admitting things I'd much rather keep private.
She let out a sigh and paced a little across the floor, never letting her eyes leave me in case I made some sort of move. "And you needed me to help you change?" she challenged.
Ah, there we go. That was the question that scared me the most, and of course she'd found it. I had admitted to coming back to Sunnydale for her and that I wanted to change for the better. Buffy had always been smart, so it was no wonder she managed to put two and two together. I just wondered if she already knew the answer behind my answers.
"Yeah, I do. You're the only one who…" I cut myself off, not even knowing how to end that sentence. There were so many true ways of doing it- "understands what our lives are like" or "I trust enough." Or, of course, "I've ever loved."
She picked none of the above. "The only one who could?" she guessed. Well, that just about summed it up. I nodded stiffly and felt my body starting to betray me. I hadn't eaten in much too long and I'd been slaying, so my body was pretty drained. I hadn't had a good night's sleep in a week either. Oh, and I was experiencing a shit-ton of emotions that I usually tried my hardest to avoid.
My knees trembled and I could feel my hands shaking. My eyes stung with the threat of tears. My legs started to give out completely, but Buffy was there to stop me from hitting the ground in less than a second.
I clung onto her because I was afraid that I would fall. Whether I meant literally or emotionally, I can't really be sure. I looked over Buffy's shoulder as she held me to see that she'd dropped the knife on the ground so she could catch me instead.
That sight brought the tears to my eyes. Buffy only held me tighter as I cried.
I knew she hadn't forgiven me yet, that she was so far away from trusting me, but when it came down to it, she would drop her weapons if I only dropped my defenses. That was a price I would be willing to pay.
Apparently Willow was going to be out for a while still, so Buffy half-carried me over to a bed. I was assuming it was her side of the room judging by the décor. It just screamed Buffy.
She pulled the sheets over my trembling body and sat down next to me, a hand in my hair. It was an intimate gesture, one I wasn't particularly used to unless the person in my bed was there for another purpose altogether. She'd always been a fairly touchy person- I knew that- but it still felt odd. She used to grab my hand or arm frequently, but those were just things she did without even thinking. They didn't mean anything.
This though… this meant something. She was willingly touching me to comfort me or calm me down or whatever even after everything wrong I've done. So it didn't mean she had any sort of feelings for me, but it did mean she wasn't ready to ostracize me and kick me out of her life. That's a fucking miracle considering.
I was so embarrassed to be crying in front of her, but I couldn't exactly stop it. She didn't speak, and I had no words either. So we stayed there in silence, me just wishing I could say something to break the dead air.
Finally my tears slowed and my body started trembling less. I could feel myself slipping toward sleep slowly and I was thankful. Sleep would probably be the best remedy at this point.
Buffy must have noticed my change because she spoke. "I don't want to do this, but I have to do something," she said in a hushed tone. I wasn't sure what she was talking about until she took hold of my left hand and snapped one side of a handcuff around it before attaching the other end to the bed post. She then covered my extended arm with a blanket.
I looked up at her in shock. "Kinky," I said through a smirk. She rolled her eyes at me and I held back a laugh. "Didn't know you were into that," I pushed further.
"I'm not," she sighed. It reminded me of a time before. "Bondage looks good on you, B. The outfit's all wrong, but hey..." And now the situation was reversed. Except…
"Then why do you have handcuffs in your bedroom?" I pointed out with a challenging eyebrow raised. Her face turned a certain shade of pink that gave me my answer. "Damn, B. I never would have thought you'd be up for it."
"Shut up," she growled. I just laughed. I was tired and feeling a ridiculous feeling of elation that I was lying in Buffy's bed (think innocent thoughts!) while she sat next to me joking. Yes, it wasn't exactly the ideal situation, but I was so unbelievably thrilled to be back in her life.
"I can't have you running off and being a psycho on campus, especially not in the middle of the day," Buffy told me. I gave a sort of shrug and scrunched up a little on the bed to accommodate for my now locked-up arm.
"Whatever," I muttered. Calling me a psycho would have been light in nature maybe two years ago, but these days? Not so much. It put a small damper on my good mood, but I was slowly drifting toward dreamland anyway, so I let it slide.
I looked up at Buffy, just holding her stare for a few seconds. She had those green eyes that could stare right through me when she wanted to. It shocked me sometimes that she never saw right through my heart to see its true intentions. To see that I love her. Maybe she never turned those x-ray eyes toward my heart. If she never looked, she wouldn't know.
Her hair was longer than it had been the last time we'd actually been face to face. The last time had been when I had stolen her body, and what a ride that was. I almost blushed as I remembered taking a bath in that body, running my hands all over smooth skin that didn't belong to me and feeling my stolen body's reaction.
"Go to sleep, Faith," she murmured, running hair hand through my hair one last time. I guess the comforting was done. Maybe she'd only comforted me to keep me calm before handcuffing me to her bed in a way that was decidedly not like any of my dreams.
"Okay," I muttered in response. It was stupid. I didn't have to say anything, but I did anyway. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if she would be there when I woke up. I wondered what she would say to me and what stupid things would fall out of my mouth in response.
As much as I play the perfect alpha female, I've so rarely been in control.
A/N: Italics were stuff from the past, but that was pretty obvious I think. The tension between the two is far from over. Next chapter has the two talk some more and Willow enters the picture as well as possibly some others.