Longer chapter here. Direct reference to BTVS. Kudos to those who figure it out. Hope this satisfies those enquiring minds. ;-)
Alternate Fork
by justagrump
Chapter 3
The sound of hard-soled boots coming down the wooden steps echoes through the basement. Brown eyes take in the too-bright fluorescent lighting bouncing off gray concrete walls, the gleam of reinforced steel bars, and the lone occupant sitting on the metal bunk with her head in her hands. An empty meal tray sits on the floor just outside the cell, the remains of that mornings breakfast still in evidence. Faith's eyes take in the sparse contents of the living space and notes that a privacy curtain has recently been added, obviously due to the status of the cell's occupant. The brunette studies the other woman as she shakes out a cigarette and lights it up.
The sound of Buffy's flat voice echoes off the walls. "You know those things are going to kill you." The little blonde continues staring at the floor as if it held the secrets of the universe itself if she could only puzzle out the message.
Faith lets loose a laughing snort. "Hope I live long enough to prove you right, B."
The Chosen Two sit there, the blonde staring at the floor, the brunette staring at the blonde, each searching for answers to questions both find too difficult to put into words. Faith finishes her smoke and grinds it out on the heel of her boot, pocketing the butt before standing and moving closer to the occupied cell.
"I was gonna make a joke about how you look good in orange, B but..."
"... nobody looks good in orange, F. And in case you've suddenly gone blind, I'm not wearing orange."
"Exactly! So..." Faith leans against the bars of Buffy's cell, sticks one hand in a pocket of her jeans and runs the other through her thick brown hair.
"I thought this would be a dream come true for you, Faith. Me, behind bars like you were for what, two years? Must have all kinds of nasty 'Girl in Prison' fantasies running through your head right now. So go ahead and gloat, Faith. We both know that's what you came down here for." Green eyes remain fixed on the floor. Even so, Buffy can easily make out Faith's feet and legs crossed at the ankles.
"Aw, c'mon B, it ain't like that... welllll, maybe it's a little bit like that. And as for fantasies, I lived the real deal, B. I know how things are in the bighouse." The brunette twirls a finger in the air to indicate the confines of the basement, "This ain't no prison. Try cramming three hundred horny and angry bitches into a cell block built for half that many and then treat them like they're lower than whale shit on the bottom of the ocean. I gotta admit though, it feels... I don't know... kinda wrong, somehow, looking at you from this side of the bars."
Buffy abandons her search for universal knowledge and shifts her position on the bed, bracing her back against the cold steel bars behind her. She sits with her feet on the thin mattress, knees in the air, arms at her sides and picks with nervous fingers at the blanket someone had brought down from her own bed. The brunette knew well that, all good intentions aside, most often it was the little things that made life the most difficult when you were stuck behind bars. Faith studies the red-rimmed eyes and puffiness of the face and wonders if the older woman had stopped crying at all since she first woke up and realized were she was and how she ended up here two days ago.
Fatigue and defeat weigh heavily on the shoulders of the older woman. "Well, if you're not down here to gloat, then why are you here? Too much of a coward to stand up to me without bars seperating us?"
Faith chooses to ignore the barbed remark, partly because it was true, at least on the surface and partly because that wasn't what she was down here for. She had heard the whispers of the other girls after she arrived in Cleveland, the ones that said she had gone soft, that she was afraid of the older Slayer, that she had turned 'Coward' and ran with her tail tucked between her legs whenever Buffy was around. Hell, even her only real friend had begun questioning why she didn't stand up to the smaller woman. Only Giles had figured out the truth, and she had made him promise never to reveal it to anyone, no matter what anybody said about her. There would be time to address that issue later. Right now, there were more important things to do.
"Maybe you can imagine my surprise, B, when I get back from a couple days of R and R and Red is outside waiting. Says she needs to speak with me and no it can't wait til I can take a whiz and grab some chow. Gotta tell ya, B, that girl has a lot more backbone than most people give her credit for. I can see why you two are such good friends. Anyways, good ol' Red gives me the "gotta save an outta control Slayer" speech. You know the one, I'm sure. So, like always I tell her to get me the info on the kid and I'll get right on it. That's S.O.P., right? Only it's not quite so simple is it, B? Not when it's the fearless leader herself who lost it, nearly beat my best friend to death for reasons unknown and now needs to be saved."
Faith stands upright and pulls a heavy key from her pocket. She slips it into the lock, gives a twist and opens the door.
"I'm thinking we could both use a little fresh air right about now, B. You go get a shower and some fresh clothes. I'll be out back at the cherry tree. And FYI, I told Red to find someplace else for the wannabes to play today, so we got the whole place to ourselves for as long as we need it."
(One hour Later)
Buffy catches the stink of the cigarette smoke carried on the breeze as she makes her way across the field. She comes up behind Faith sitting on the swing bench and watches the younger woman take another drag.
"Cop a squat, B. Promise I won't bite... much."
As the blonde maneuvers herself onto the bench she notices a rather large picnic basket on the ground. She silently asks the question by the looking at Faith with an upraised eyebrow.
"Thought we could both use some grub. Got some sodas in there too. Probably too early for booze. Wasn't sure what you liked so I grabbed a little of everything. Help yourself."
Buffy considers her options while studying the face of her one time friend/slaying partner/nemesis. Heaving a sigh, Buffy decides that hunger overrides animosity and reaches into the basket, pulling out a sandwich and Diet Coke. She pops the top and settles the cold can between blue jean covered thighs and takes a bite from the sandwich: Bologna, ketchup, mustard and lettuce, a slice of tomato, mayonnaise. The thought occurs to her before she can flip it aside that maybe Faith knows her better than she thought. Or maybe they just had similar taste in certain things, like sandwiches.
They eat and drink in silence. The warm sunshine and light breeze belie the events of the past few days. Faith finishes her meal and leans back on the bench, Pepsi in one hand, fresh smoke in the other. Nobody knew that when she was out on the road, Faith never felt the need to smoke. In fact, the only time she ever really needed one was when she felt nervous or bored. Today she could probably chain her way through a whole pack in under five minutes. And she sure as shit weren't bored.
The brunette watches the blonde and realizes that Buffy is nibbling her way through the last of her sandwich. A wicked obvious stalling tactic if there ever was one.
"Wanna talk about it, B?"
Faith watches Buffy's eyes shift back and forth nervously as they try to find a neutral place to land. Stalling for time, Buffy concentrates on chewing and swallowing the tiniest piece of sandwich that she can manage to nibble off and follows with a very long, drawn out sip of her soda. Green eyes flick unseeing over the top of the can.
"Not really."
Faith maintains an outwardly calm appearance as she takes another from her smoke. Pursing her lips, she exhales, making sure the breeze carries the white haze away from her new charge.
"You nearly killed her, B. Surely there's something on your mind. Something had to set you off."
Buffy finally lowers the remains of the sandwich and holds it in her lap, picking at a wayward piece of lettuce sticking out from between the bread. Faith catches the glint of a tear as it slides its way down Buffy's still slightly reddened cheek. The smaller woman lets out a ragged sigh.
"She... K-Kennedy, you know how she is Faith. She doesn't know when to back off. She just keeps pushing and pushing... a-a-and... I lost it, Faith. She went too far this time and I finally lost it."
Both women are taken by surprise at the sudden flood of tears. Faith takes another drag before reaching into the bottom of the basket, coming up with a wad of paper towels and handing them to the crying woman. Buffy buries her face in them and lets the anguish flow unabated. Faith, for her part, can do no more than slide over, reach an arm across those heaving shoulders and pull the smaller woman in tight, cradling Buffy's head into her chest and gently rocks back and forth. Hard earned experience has taught her that all she can do is wait this out. A small piece of her still marvels that she is even capable of this small act of compassion. And yet, she has used it to great effect in her travels, although this is the first time she's needed it with someone she knows.
Gradually, the gut wrenching sobs begin to ebb, replaced more and more with shuddering breaths of much needed air. And lots and lots of sniffling. For the first time since she had been 'Called', Buffy Summers has allowed someone else to be the strong one. Not even after she had been thrown out of her own home, first by her mother, then years later by her sister and surrogate family did she truly give up and let herself feel the depths of her despair. True, she had asked Spike to stay with her that one night as she lay in a strange bed inside the home of a stranger. But that was for the protection that only Spike was able or willing to offer through the long and lonely night. Buffy had known that he would watch her back and if the price for that safety was letting him hold her while she slept, well it was better than waking up dead, or worse. And as bad as it had been then, she still hadn't allowed herself to break down completely and let it all out. Not like this.
Buffy spends several more minutes regaining her shattered composure before weakly extricating herself from Faith's comforting embrace. After a quick glance at the sodden, snot covered ball of paper in her hand, she gives it a heave and watches it arc into the field several hundred feet away before searching the basket for fresh ones. She pointedly turns her back on the brunette as she tries to clean her face and clear her dripping nose as quietly as possible. Faith, for her part, reaches into the basket and fishes out another Pepsi, pops the top and takes a healthy swig before reaching for yet another cigarette. Buffy risks a glance back at her sister-Slayer as she hears the lighter flare to life.
The blonde woman finally finishes cleaning up as best she can without a mirror and a truck load of makeup and turns back to face the brunette. She vaguely remembers the words to a poem she had to read for a high school English class assignment. Actually, she doesn't remember any of the words, just the title but she can see before her a fork in the road that she has been traveling on. One path is worn smooth and strikingly similar to the one she's been following. The other is overgrown, barely visible and leads off into the unknown. Buffy realizes that she has to make a choice now as to which path to take. She can take comfort in the familiar and remain miserable and alone, or risk the unknown and discover what lies at the other end of the road less traveled.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy plunges.
"I'm sorry, Faith."
Faith takes another, deeper drag before releasing the calming smoke from her lungs. "Ain't me you need to apologize to, B."
"I know, Faith. And I will, to everybody. But, I owe you an apology, too. Lots of them."
Now it was Faith's eyes that flicked nervously from place to place. "A'ight. If you think it'll help, go for it, B."
Buffy stands, and positions herself directly in front of Faith who remains sitting on the bench. Nervous and shamed, she starts and stops a few times before steeling herself. And Buffy plunges.
"Faith, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being nothing but a raging bitch on steroids since you came here. I'm sorry I couldn't get my head out of my ass long enough to thank you for spending the last two years out there all by yourself finding and saving all of those new Slayers. I'm sorry we didn't have the time to become friends and that you didn't feel that you could call me if you needed help or maybe even just a friendly voice to hear if you felt as lost and afraid as I do sometimes."
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you fight your demons, Faith. I was so wrapped up in my own drama that I couldn't see how frightened and alone you were in Sunnydale. I couldn't see how much you needed someone to just take the time and see you. Well, I see you now Faith, and you're one hell of a person."
"I'm sorry I never took the time to thank you. Thank you, Faith. For being here now, for helping us with Caleb and the First. Thank you for breaking out of prison and saving Angel. Thank you for coming into my life, Faith. I know I have a lot to make up for. I hope you'll let me start by replacing that blouse I just ruined."
The embarrassed brunette looks down and lets a low chuckle. "It's cool. Don't worry about it, B. I'll just expense it back to Giles."
The small blonde makes a half mock shocked look. "Giles gave you an expense account? I thought I was supposed to be his favorite. All I get is a measly allowance and a house full of teenaged estrogen! That is so not fair."
Faith laughs as she picks up the basket and stands. "Guess you should have been a private like me out in the trenches instead of playing General Buffy."
"Oh don't you even get started on calling me that, Faith. It's bad enough when Kennedy says it and it's worse when she's got an audience. Faith?"
"Yeah, B."
"Why do you keep walking away? Why don't you stand up for yourself whenever I take a cheap shot at you?"
Faith flashes her patented dimples. "Anger management classes, B."
"Anger whatty what what?"
Faith chuckles. "Not a lot to do in the joint, ya know. So my shrink suggested I take some anger management classes. She said it might help curb some of my more... violent tendencies. At first, walking away seemed an awful like being a coward, ya know? But the more I did it, the fewer fights I ended up in and eventually I realized that it takes a stronger person to choose not to fight. It didn't matter that other people saw me as a coward, Buffy, 'cause I always knew better."
Buffy isn't sure she can look at her counterpart the same as she used. Scratch that. She knows she will never see Faith ever again as that frightened girl who blew into and blew up her life so long ago.
"So you went to prison, had your head examined and came out a better person for it. Guess we're not so different as I thought."
The Chosen Two slowly make their way back towards the house. In the distance they see vehicles pulling into the driveway before stopping and discharging a horde laughing and joking girls into the yard. A lone figure walks to the front of the parked autos and waits, arms crossed.
"Willow?"
"Yep, she's waiting for me to give the all clear signal." Faith stops walking, lays an open palm on Buffy's wrist and turns the smaller woman towards her. "So, you gonna tell me what she said, B?"
Nervous again, Buffy shifts her gaze to a very interesting blade of grass at her feet. "Do I have to?"
"You know how this works, B. You helped write the manual. Hell, you single-handedly rewrote the Slayer's Handbook. Full Disclosure and then we go from there."
The small blonde shifts from one foot to another. If Faith didn't know how nervous the other woman was, she could have sworn she either had ants crawling up her legs or really needed to take a leak. She watched as Buffy chewed on her lower lip and let the older woman gather whatever resources she needed for this next step.
Buffy takes a deep, steadying breath. "Faith, first you have to know the details."
"A'ight. Lay it on me, B."
"It was dark out and we had been arguing earlier about... a-about you. And you know how much she kinda looks like you sometimes? And how she likes to imitate your voice. And well..."
Faith takes Buffy in her arms and just holds her. She knows the fight or flight response is kicking in and doesn't want to risk losing her most important charge. Not when she's so close to this break through. Buffy needs this as much as the Slayer army needs its general. Almost as much as the Chosen Two needed each other.
Buffy stiffens slightly before accepting the embrace. She gathers the remains of her courage and whispers into the taller woman's ear.
"Okay then. Give us a kiss."
Yup, Graduation Day, Part One. The next installment may take a few days to get posted. I know what I want to do with it, but have to work out the details and get it typed out. So, TBC...