Swings

by PrincessDushku

Complete with Epilogue, Finding the one person in the world who's your other half is never easy- especially when you happen to have good reason to hate them.

26. A Canapé Reception

October 2011

What the fuck are you doing? No really- what the fuck?! Sassy is right- you have a complete inability to follow through.

On anything.

You turned round the other day and suddenly realised that you love him. You're in love with him.

But- but you can't marry the guy you're in love with! That's- it's… ok, that's what people normally do…

It was just all too much, too large a concept to even consider; actually being happy. You're really that much of an idiot.

So you ran out. Of your own wedding reception.

Because it was beautiful, it was everything you'd ever dreamed of- centrepieces and all. You're even in love, just like you imagined… but it's not right. It's not right because it's not 'her'. It was almost the wedding you imagined when Faith 'almost-sort-of-proposed' before Rose was almost born.

You'd be a perfect family; Henry loves Rose, his family love Rose, Henry loves you, his family… tolerate you. The three of you look very, very pretty together. He completely understands you. He's your best friend.

It's perfect.

But even thinking that isn't right! Because if you can't have a half-life with Faith then you shouldn't be delighting in a perfect one with someone else.

You're a bad person.

You don't deserve Henry and Rose and the pretty wedding and the lovely marriage and the… house that's too big and kind of cold.

Stupid complicated life!

Everyone you know is here, inside the hotel… well, everyone you know personally… well, everyone but Leah, who's slaying, Angel who's disappeared and the many, many dead… well, Cordelia's ghost is still annoyingly hanging around…

There are a lot of people. A lot.

And you dragged your way out of bed this morning, fake smiled so hard your cheeks ache and (actually rather happily) accepted far too many presents, because it was what you'd planned to do. This wedding took you a whole year to organise and everything ran perfectly; the timing was slick, the guests were gorgeous, you look… you look bloody fantastic!

Your dress is custom-made; gold and fluffy and crushes when you sit. Despite the huge skirt it barely shields you from the cold and you makes you wish for your old buttoned-up look. When you were a teenager fashion was one of the most important things in your life (along with saving the world and scraping through school) and now you have the money to go designer it is again. Yet… it seems so frivolous now. And you look a little like Rose's doll, Mimi.

This stupid, expensive, gorgeous dress!

You could probably live off the proceeds from this dress for two years. With Rosy!

It's the best dress you could have asked for; marrying Henry is the best thing that could ever happen to you, this life is what's best for you. But it's not right. It's not what you want.

And you can't even pretend you're doing what you think is best for everyone else because it's not and because… because even though you've got one hell of a martyr syndrome this life could never be called bad, could never be seen as 'awful'!

You're doing this for yourself. You're tearing your daughter away from the only man she's ever known as 'father'. You've ruined your future security.

There's barely any money in your account- the last of it was spent on this stupid dress! The one thing you insisted you pay for. Stupid, stupid dress!

Fifty bridal magazines, nine, day-long shopping trips and enough fabric samples to create your next year's wardrobe, mean you now have a greater understanding of the many, many shades of white. You took Mimtal shopping because Italian, effeminate men who've lived forever have probably seen quite a few wedding dresses… and his fashion sense is very 'Queer Eye' (i.e. brilliant). It seemed too important a task to complete with Lexie or Tavi and utterly inappropriate to invite Sassy or Faith. Of course, you could have asked Dawn but it seemed more likely she'd just have made derogatory comments about your tan-less skin tone and I-no-longer-work-out-every-minute-of-every-day muscles. And your stretch marks. Which, while you don't mind (because, let's face it, you got something brilliant out of them), you don't exactly like showing people under harsh shop lighting.

He flew over from Italy especially for the occasion, smelling sweetly of wisteria and musky cologne, which on him works so well.

The other reason you lured him over was to hold Faith's hand at the wedding. She's always had a thing for strong males to look up to and since you blew up her favourite father-figure and Angel has mysteriously disappeared (again), you knew she'd need one here. They talk often and you know he watches out for her, giving her money when she has none and a place to stay wherever in the world she needs one.

A fortnight ago you spoke to Kennedy properly for the first time in years (aside from a dismissive argument in April and some snide voicemails). She called from a field hospital in Bosnia of all places and your first thought had been the age-old 'what is it with Lehanes and hospitals?'

"Kakistos." She'd said in place of 'hello', your heart shooting up to your throat and your stomach dropping to your feet. "He beat her half to death and she didn't even try to fight back!" The satellite phone had crackled in your ear, crinkling whatever else she'd said into a mess of noise.

It had taken over three minutes for the sound to come back to normal. You'd escaped upstairs while listening to the few chopped words that managed to make it through. Rosy had followed, ignoring your attempts to send her back to Satsu and her flash cards.

"You- Ten- Axe-" The connection had suddenly became clear, "-have to fight for her!"

"I'm retired." You'd sat on the top step next to Rose and brushed your fingers through her pretty hair.

"Retired from being Faith's lover or from being her friend?"

"Retired from slaying." You're turning freaking thirty soon!

Rosy had shaken her head condescendingly, green hair-ribbon bobbing, "Retired from saving the world. That's like ignoring racism."

Kennedy had laughed, despite the tension, "Your daughter has issues."

"So does her mother."

"Which is why I need you to be here. It's a Korvesh Demon- they fix on one person and then take the form of whomever they're most afraid of!"

"How very Harry Potter." You'd sighed and then had to attempt to explain to someone who has neither a child inside nor an actual one. "Look, never mind, it doesn't matter- I'll be there. But… why can't you do anything?"

"Because she freezes up and I thought that maybe… maybe you could use your 'Chosen Two' thing?"

Stupid Andrew! Stupid pamphlet!

Though, to be fair, it is kind of cool to see your name in print… and his illustrations aren't all that inaccurate even if they are a little completely wrong. It isn't actually possible to read each other's minds (unless Willow gets involved), you don't 'sense' where she is in the world and you can't make her do anything, even with a reasoned argument. Though it would, of course, be helpful if you could… generally food helps- who cares about reason when food will do just as well?

"We don't actually have a… I'll be there."

Kennedy battled on anyway; "But it's so important that you-!"

"I'll be there." You reiterated, only slightly strained. The thought that maybe it wasn't a good idea to take a trip this close to your wedding had barely crossed your mind. Besides, it was a distraction and that was precisely what you were wanting at that moment in time.

"Thank you. I'll tell her if she wakes up."

"'IF'? What do you mean-?" But the line had cut out before you'd had the chance to finish. "Faith had better be alive when I get there…"

Rose's bottom lip had trembled, "Mummy, is Aunty Faith going to be ok?"

"I hope so Sweet Pea." Which, of course, hadn't consoled her, "But, if she isn't, I promise you can beat her up, ok?"

"That won't make her any better."

"No, no, you're right, been there, done that… don't think I've ever baked her cookies though."

Your daughter had simply sighed and, not bothering with the 'biscuits, mother, biscuits' talk again, pulled you from the stairs and towards your room. "Go right now, Mummy, go save the world!"

Faith/The World. Your World. Oh hell, you're tragic.

The bag had been packed in five minutes flat- everything and anything shoved into your designer, leather luggage (with cute hidden wheels) and then into a canvas sack when you realised it wasn't quite appropriate for travelling. Satsu trailed you like a lost, but persistent, puppy; "I understand what you're trying to do Buffy but you're not making Rose's life any easier. What she needs is stability."

It was hard not to snort in amusement. Saving Faith's life is not an indication of wanting to get back with her. But Faith is one of your oldest friends- you couldn't just let her die! "What she needs is a father figure. And for her 'aunt' not to die!"

Sassy groaned out her frustration, "You're doing the same thing with Henry as you did with me!"

"Oddly, I don't think you'd make a great father figure." Though she'd be better than either of yours so maybe you shouldn't judge.

"You're trying to get someone to fit into that 'Faith hole' but it's not going to happen! And I know that what happened last month has left a bigger hole inside of-" She cut off at your murderous glare. "Look, I don't agree with that you're doing here- tacking someone into your lives does not mean the pain of loosing… her will go away… but… you've committed now, to loving Henry and so you shouldn't randomly latch on to anyone else! Even if it is Faith! I know you're upset but-"

You'd yelled that she was just jealous and still in love with you (which she was and is but it being the truth doesn't make saying it right) until finally she'd just shaken her head and pulled a bag from the shelf to pack along with yours.

"I'm going." Your heart had stopped- Sassy is above and beyond the only way you pass as a good parent. "Just for the week, to see my family and Akira," She amended, "Just for…" She'd smiled then, a cruel smile and it was so unlike her you'd stopped your frenzied rush to listen, "I'm going away for a week so Rose and Henry can have some good Father/Daughter bonding and when you get back I hope they're so very close that even the idea of separating them curdles your stomach! You made your bed, now lie in it."

"What? Wha… why are you suddenly taking Dawn's position? I thought you were on Faith's side?"

Satsu stopped at the bedroom door and it replays in your memory, over and over, the way her hand rested lightly on the doorknob- not gripping, just resting, as if she wasn't really angry. "No! No. It's not about 'sides'- it has nothing to do with your stupid, stupid Buffy Verses Faith Love/Hate War. I'm… I'm mad at you for… being so thick sculled, for having a wall around your heart that means you never listen to it! You spent so long trying to love Faith as best as you could- trying to love her because of her flaws, not in spite of them- regardless of the violence and the craziness a- and then you just…" She'd kissed you then. Dropped her bag on the floor and pulled you to her. You'd stood there, stunned. "Thank you for not kissing me back."

"What?"

"I was… I was trying to prove a point." She'd blushed, "Probably not the best way… I was trying to say that you always run when it gets serious and you get scared- that you jump on any excuse to avoid… well, I don't really get what it is you're trying to avoid."

Your lips had stung, and not just from that damn cinnamon chapstick Kennedy hates so much (though the reasons for that hatred are still a little foggy). "You were proving a point… by kissing me?"

"I wanted to see if you'd take the easy way out and offer we run off to a different country again." She smiled once more when you shook your head, but this was her real smile, a soft and gentle one.

"No, I… I have to go and help Faith because- because no matter what, she's still my friend and the mother of my child and… and I know she can't stop this vampire." A sudden desire to tell her everything, to lay out exactly why Faith couldn't kill 'Kissing-Toast', had rushed upon you. Yet you'd refrained- not out of respect for the secrets you'd buried inside and promised to hide but because Satsu didn't need to know to understand. "But then I'm going to come home and I'm going to get married. To a man I love and want to spend the rest of my life with."

So yes, if someone had given you a choice, sat you down and said 'Faith or Henry; who do you want?' you'd have said 'Faith' but there would have been a hastily pinned 'as long as she's well' on the end.

"I'm going to Bosnia."

It took too long to get there- a shabby building pulled up in the middle of what had once been the front line against Yugoslavs but was now isolated above networks of caves burrowed by Korvesh demons.

Wind whipped in the empty spaces around the stocky, grey building and tore at your hair.

You've been lulled into a weird fast-forward idea of travel, thanks to Willow and her 'take you anywhere in the blink of an eye' ability- plus the Council's plane and endless monetary funds for when you 'just have to fly commercial (First Class of course)'- so it had seemed to take forever. The only airport you could fly in to was situated as far across the country as was possible- the rest of the journey had to be taken by train, car and, lastly, on horseback up a steep mountainside and rugged fields of frozen, clumped mud. Fortunately the weather held out for you and though the air was chilly it didn't once snow, or even rain.

Faith was barely conscious when you finally arrived- five days after Kennedy's call. She'd been beaten into yet another coma, making your heart ache with the guilt of reminiscence. Maybe… maybe if she hadn't been in that first coma her skull would be just that little bit thicker…?

Her first words on seeing you were her first words in a week; a croaky 'B?' followed by a whispered, and anguished, apology. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!"

"You don't have to be sorry, darling, you haven't done anything wrong. I'll fight Kakistos for you, just get better, ok?"

The tormented wail had surprised you, the subsequent rapid speech and wild gestures had not. She'd gripped your hands; grinding the bones together without noticing, and, near-screamed at you in hurried staccato that Kakistos would kill you too and she wouldn't let that happen. "Not you too, not you too! He killed them, B! He can't kill you too!" Her arms had wrapped tightly around you- a little too tightly, "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I tried to stop Rose! He got Rose! He killed my Rosebud! MY BABY!"

Even though you knew Rosy was wrapped up in bed at home, hearing the words had still shocked you. "It's alright," You'd tried to hold Faith steady, relax her back onto the bed as she sobbed, "He's not-" the 'real' died on your lips. How do you explain to someone they're living a delusion within an illusion? "He's not going to hurt me. He won't hurt me if you just stay here. Can you do that?"

"NO…! B!"

Her thrashing eventually sent a foot through the thin wall and Kennedy speeding into the room. "Help me hold her down for God sake! Don't just stand there!"

"Sorry," Kennedy shook herself out of her freeze and leapt to help, pinning Faith's legs to the bed, "Sorry!"

"How long has she been like this?!" Not that it would have mattered but it's always nice to know exactly which Faith you'll be dealing with at any particular time.

"About a month and a half- I followed her here, stupidly thinking it was actually Willow she'd been speaking to on the- ah!" She yelped as Faith kicked, "Phone!"

You'd held your hand over Faith's mouth while the two of you attempted to calm her down- which wasn't probably the smartest thing in the world, but you're horribly used to 'violent, scared Faith' and the only thing that can really be done is to contain her until she feels safe. And yes, recreating horrible childhood memories isn't exactly soothing but sometimes you have to look out for yourself too.

There was one bloodthirsty moment, after killing the Korvesh, that you considered chopping off it's head to take back to her, as if having something to hold- a physical representation that her fears were over- would make all the difference. But, two minutes after snapping Kakistos' spinal cord he shrivelled back into the creepy little demon he really was.

By the time you'd climbed out of the old sewer entrance, Kennedy was sporting a freshly bruised face and Faith was conversing sweetly with a small child who obviously spoke no English but was willing to nod along. "Faith?"

"Hey B, Rosy and I were wondering when you'd get here."

"Rosy?" The little boy shrugged, perfectly at ease with his new name.

"We didn't want to eat without you."

On reflection, the calm hallucinations are always the best. "What are we eating?"

"Salmon Puffs."

"Uh-huh… And where are we eating?"

Faith's look had been sympathetic, sorry you didn't know. Her eyes floated around the room, seeing beauty you never could in rusty bed heads and flaking walls. "Heaven, Dumbass. Now he's killed you we can all be together."

You'd nodded and settled down beside her, to a meal of love and air.

Kennedy sent you a pamphlet once, completely out of the blue, about… about what to do with Faith when she's… at the times when she's not herself. You'd glanced at it and then taken it to your room, carefully removed every item from your underwear drawer, laid it at the bottom and then replaced everything, piece by piece, on top. It had lain there, for months, until Faith had drifted back into your life with a sunny smile.

There had been a certain reluctance towards even thinking of opening that drawer at the time- why mention it when she's happy? Why ruin the few times you actually have with her?

It's been… months and months since you saw her last- that afternoon with Henry's parents, when she looked like she'd just come from watching her blue blood brother play polo. Now she's at your wedding, in a dress- no, a gown, with a full skirt and slashed neck. Horizontally slashed, not vertically; no cleavage, barely any collarbones. Her hair is set in vintage-y waves and rests perfectly, just below her shoulders. It's all very 'Hope'.

Even knowing that going months without seeing her is the norm you still try to keep her a part of Rosy's life- putting Faith's picture in her room, telling funny stories about her, making a big deal of every postcard and parcel that arrives from different corners of the globe.

You like that in Rosy's mind Faith is this amazing, glamorous, semi-fictitious figure who never announces herself before a visit. It means you don't have to explain when she's not there.

Drops of rain begin to plop sporadically on the street in front of you. How nice of whomever owns this shop to put a metal awning up for runaway brides to cower under.

If you lean forward, around the adjoined, closed shop front, the entrance to the party is still visible.

It took weeks to find the pretty hotel with a grand ballroom for the reception. Henry suggested a myriad of options- including his father's Gentlemen's Club- but their opulence turned your stomach; you wanted to pretend, if only unconsciously, that this was the wedding you'd planned for years, that the diamond necklace around your neck was special because your husband (wife) had saved for those tiny stones interspersed with little pearls. Instead it's a huge mass of sparkles- tasteful sparkles, but too much all the same. There's the slightest chance it used to belong to Henry's mother… either way, it's more expensive than your car and he barely batted an eyelid at the thought of letting you touch such a beautiful thing- let alone wear it!

And now you're sheltering by a stranger's front door, watching material more expensive than you could reasonably afford by yourself cascade down seven steps to the pavement… where water soaks into it like dark brown trees growing against a golden sky. As if it's not enough you're ruining three people's lives, you now have to ruin a perfectly good skirt too?

Great.

Brilliant.

This day just literally could not get any better.

There's a larger step right in front of the door but there's some kind of macabre pleasure in standing further forward on the platform and letting the water seep up your dress. Maybe it'll find its way through the layers and layers of petticoats and material to the girl inside.

You scrape your palm against the rough wall until it bleeds- let her come out that way. For a second you're tempted to drip the blood down onto the silk and study if it moves faster than the water… but then you realise you're acting like a crazy person and just watch as your skin heals over instead.

This is stupid.

The whole thing. Is stupid.

You can't go back in- even if you wanted to, you can't stand the looks that will be on their faces. All those people. All those people you didn't really know a year ago but have now become so close to… Lexie and Tavi are two of your best friends in the whole wide world but they have no clue what on earth would make you leave Henry, why you'd run out on your wedding day. You don't even know yourself if you're running towards something or just 'away'.

Are you willing to start a new life? Do you have to?

Yes, of course you do, of course. The house is Henry's, the friends are either his or from Rosy's expensive school- which he pays for so you'll probably have to drag her out of it. You still don't really know the rest of the city all that well. Except for Islington- where the old London house was, but you were only there for a few months when Rose was a baby and she doesn't even remember.

If you go back inside now, if you say you're sorry, if you act like it was all some kind of temporary laps of judgement… that you didn't really mean it when you froze in the middle of your first dance, said 'I can't do this' loud enough for it to carry over the music, gave him back his ring and then ran. If you pretend that didn't really happen then maybe Rose can keep her storybook life at the best prep school in the country (which is also surprisingly arty and fun), her deep, deep on-again-off-again frenemyship with Bliss Benn and that cute crush she's been working on for Hector Spencer-Bluethal in the year above.

You can pretend, you can lie, and you can act like seeing Faith cry silently as she watched what should have, by all rights, been your dance didn't tear you up inside.

In a perfect world this is the moment you get back together with Faith. In a perfect world it also wouldn't be raining and freezing cold. In a perfect world you would have really thought through the implications of getting married in October- namely that if you felt like running away you'd also have to think of grabbing a coat on the way out. Or at least a shawl. Something more than a silk bolero.

Hypothermia's chic now, don't you know?

Much more popular than being able to feel your feet.

Stupid Jimmy Choos. Stupid wedding. Stupid desperately trying to look as posh and fashionable as everyone else.

Besides, you're not the kind of girl who's supposed to live this life- you weren't made to have lunch every Friday with Alexia Huntington (born 'Merton-Booth'), who grew up with three nannies and a title, or Octavia Benn, who in her 'wild' period once blew over six hundred thousand pounds on a yacht, burnt it to a crisp in a rage and got nothing more than a slap on the wrist! You were made to kill things with your bare hands and eat raw meat. Though, for argument sake, Lexie and Tavi do have quite a thing for sushi and the three of you love to indulge.

You're meant to have movie nights crushed on one sofa- not in a home cinema- eating cheap snack food from crinkly packets- not calling down to your personal chef for wheat-free pizza with caviar and a range of healthy, mini versions of traditional junk-food (no matter how cute mini burgers are!)

Still, you love those girls, really- they've never held anything against you. Never once have they looked at you funny because you didn't know that the Earl of Shrewsbury's real surname is actually Chetwynd-Talbot (because, hello, why call him 'Shrewy' then?!) or you let slip that you actually have no damn idea which fork is used for fish. They helped you when you got stuck, smoothed over your public gaffes and showed you that though the British Upper Class come off as cold and unfeeling they're really all just trying to hold on to a way of life they love but can see crumbling. And never, not once, has anyone ever questioned Rosy's heritage, never whispered a quiet word in the nanny's ear about keeping little Prunella or Charles away from the tiny girl with the cheap American mother.

It probably helps that she's so disarmingly charming. And fiercely intelligent enough for them to assume she's probably adopted.

She still doesn't look anything like you. Not even with the new hair.

If you had a Pound for every time someone told Henry his 'daughter' looks like him you could buy three more wedding dresses… and then sell them, obviously, for money to live on now you're going to be homeless, jobless and probably unable to pay Sassy (thus leading to a lot of takeout food).

Faith likes takeout.

You should-

No, you shouldn't.

Maybe-

No.

Ok, so perhaps it isn't the loss of Faith that makes this wrong and maybe having her back won't make it right- but it'll hurt less. She might often make things worse but just being around her, just knowing she's close, makes you feel a whole lot better.

Just sitting opposite her, watching her inhale food in a gross-and-yet-somehow-attractive manner… well, it makes you feel good. Feels like home.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

Henry's smart shoes tap against the stone steps. You're not exactly far from the hotel but you're still impressed he found you.

He stands close, backlit by the streetlight and frowns at the goosebumps covering your arms.

For one dreadful second you think he might take off his jacket and put it round your shaking shoulders.

You don't deserve to be warm.

Yes. "No." Everything.

"I'm not stupid Bethy-"

"Buffy! My name is Buffy for fuck sake! You can't marry me and not use the right goddamn name!" You snap without meaning to.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry."

He sighs, in a calm and measured way- as if in front of a dangerous wild animal. It occurs to you that he's seen you break a vampire's neck before.

"Just tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing."

"Is it…? Is it too soon? God," He shakes his head in agitation, "my mother was right- we should have postponed… it's just that you put so much work into today and I thought it might help. I know… two months is probably-"

You put both hands up; 'stop'. "Nothing was 'wrong'. It just wasn't what I… it wasn't… perfect."

"You ran out because the reception wasn't 'perfect'?" Henry chuckles and it seems so much easier to lie and smile back, "You've spent the last year planning for today, what on earth have you forgotten? Wait, let me guess; you've finally come around to Rosy's way of thinking- your dress should have been purple after all? The cake really should have been nothing but chocolate and the other bridesmaids had no right to look so pretty?"

There weren't two aisles and two wedding dresses and two brides. And Rosy, in her purple dress (because any other colour would be sacrilege!), smiling so hugely to see her 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' getting married so she could be like every other little girl in her class… Everything was just so slightly off; Tavi and Lexie are never going to be Willow and Dawn- or Tara, in the original dream- and as much as you love Sassy… you just wish she hadn't spent the entire walk down the aisle watching you like a hawk in case the doctors were wrong and you shouldn't have been moving this soon.

You had a party. An actual party. It's only been two months since- since… her. And you had a party.

"Does that make me a bad person?"

He misses your train of thought and thinks you're just carrying on the conversation. "No, of course not. A finicky one perhaps but not a bad person."

"No, I… I just couldn't stop-" 'trying not to think about her'

"It's about Faith isn't it?"

You affect an innocent air, "Faith…?"

Henry doesn't buy it, "Faith; 'Hope'. She's not who she says she is, or- or you're not who you say you are. I've come to understand you, to understand you and the people in your life but there is still one mystery to me; Faith. Is she…" He trails off and attempts to measure the look in your eyes, "Is there… I can't help thinking that perhaps…" Finally he coughs and puts aside his near guesses, getting straight to the point; "Who- who is she Buffy?"

"My wife."

"Pardon?"

Your surprised face must match his because you really hadn't meant to say that- not consciously anyway, "This day- this dress, this… everything! She should be here, and not just here but she should be the one I'm marrying."

"Ah." He nods, "You're a lesbian? That certainly explains…" There's no end to that sentence, even when you wait for a few seconds.

"What? Explains what? And I'm not a lesbian- we have sex!"

The look is one of both amusement and reproach, "'Had'- I somehow doubt it'll be happening again." You share a self-conscious smile, "Do you even love me?"

"I…" Why lie now? "How can I love another person when I miss her every day? Sometimes it feels like my whole heart is being torn out. I do love you but I love her. And even though I know it'll never work with her… I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here." You wave between the two of you, "I… I'm an idiot."

He nods again, weighing things up in his mind (and agreeing). "I should have guessed. I saw you at the hospital with her that… and I knew. I just thought it was an over-active male imagination… And then at Rosy's fifth birthday, when Rose… but Dawn called her a 'sister' and I just assumed…"

"Dawn thinks of her as a sister. She's known Faith since she was twelve. They're close. Sometimes."

There's another embarrassed moment. He twists his wedding band around his ring finger. "So, is this a… forever type of love or a 'thirteen-years-but-hopefully-over-next-month' one?"

How can you get over someone when they're your every waking thought? You'd give your life for her. "Unfortunately no. It's more of a 'made-for-each-other' type of love. Believe me if I could trade soul mates I… I…" Suddenly, being glib doesn't seem quite so funny, "I wouldn't. She's just misunderstood really- she's smart and pretty and sexy and intense and passionate and… wow, this is an… inappropriate… turn in conversation."

You smile and he doesn't return it.

"I tried to get over her but- it's a bummer too because I really did try and I even had the good sense to thank the world for my good sense that I didn't have her name tattooed anywhere on me so I could either have it painfully removed or secretly treasure it in a very, very creepy way." His withering 'is now really the time to be cute?' look makes your toes curl. "Sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He says through his teeth, because of course he isn't, and of course it isn't ok to ask. "So this is it? You and Sweet Pea are… you're leaving me? You love Faith." Said as a fact you wish you weren't just as sure of.

"It's not about love- God, sometimes I don't even like Faith as a person!- I just want to do the right thing for Rose and… and lying to her isn't it."

He snorts but not, you're quite sure, out of amusement. "You're leaving me for a girl you don't like?"

"It's not that I want to get back together with her, it's just that I can't lie to myself forever and be with you."

"Ouch."

You tug on the tulle of your skirt, "Sorry. Again. If it makes you feel any better… that girl in there; 'Hope'- there isn't anything between us. Not anymore. The two of us don't have anything… there isn't- there's no relationship so don't worry."

"Oddly, I think I'd feel a little better if you were leaving me for her rather than just leaving me to… pine over her."

"Me too. Would make everything a little simpler, wouldn't it? If I could be with her."

He frowns, "Why can't you? I apologise for not fully understanding but I… I really don't see what's stopping you." His eyes widen, "She's not some kind of a con woman is she? This whole 'Hope' thing- it isn't her way of… scamming my mother, is it?"

Uh… the jury is still out on that one. "Faith has this… thing, this… part of her… that she can't control. One day she's fine but the next… sometimes she thinks she's… I've seen her… it's not her fault."

"I didn't say it was." Henry's hands have always fit perfectly around your elbows, he likes to cup them and pull you forward to wrap your arms around his neck and share a kiss. This time he just leaves you there, on the other side of the circle. A gap in between and rain in the middle. "Tell me. Explain."

"I can't." You hide the tears behind loose fists but leave your physical connection. "I've never wanted to know. Not really. I tried to take her to a doctor but I didn't really want to know."

"Bethy,- No, don't correct me. You're my wife, my Bethy. Whether or not you're Faith's 'Buffy' is a little immaterial. Apparently." There's a hint of a smile. "Just take a breath and try to explain."

So you do. You tell him that you once made fast friends with a fifteen-year-old who turned out to be both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to you. You list the worst things about her; murder, kidnapping, drug taking, hallucinations, violence, lies, betrayal, life-stealing, seduction and just generally being a crap parent.

"Parent?"

"Uh… you know how some children are planned and others are accidents?"

He frowns, not entirely sure where this is going, "Yes…?"

"Well, Rose was a split-second decision after a quick perusal of a magic book. Faith and I didn't have sex to create her, hell, Faith didn't even know she existed until I was eight months gone!"

"Faith is…?"

Half of you thinks it's the shock of finding out who Rosy's other parent is that makes his face go white- until the other half slaps it with the reminder that normal people believe in normal biology. "Oh! Uh, yeah. Magic doesn't really discriminate."

"Let me get this right; you saw a baby-making spell, thought 'hey, I'd love swollen ankles!' and just muttered the words?"

"I had to look up the Latin version of 'Faith' but yes, pretty much. I didn't even tell Giles."

And you list the best things about her; Her light- her energy, the way she pulls people in as she speaks- how thoughtful she can be, how serious but silly, the way she puts all of her effort into whatever she believes in, her loud laugh and her genuine concern, her love of language and the way her hair smells like apples in summer.

"Forget the last thing." You blush.

"You're not really explaining how the bad behaviour isn't her fault Bethy, or why you'd choose to be with her over me. To be honest you're making her sound abusive, unpredictable and psychopathic, if… redolent."

"Look, that- that girl in there- I don't love her like I love you." You try to explain- faultingly and without lengthy examples- that sometimes… something comes over Faith, making her not herself, and it isn't mystical or magical or her fault… and she can't stop it. And you can't live with it. "I can't love her because she isn't my Faith anymore. She isn't herself."

Henry mulls that over, "Okay. And what happens if she is? If she gets medical help; pills, therapy… whatever they do for- you are aware she has a recognised medical condition, aren't you?" Oh, is it still raining? How pretty… "Buffy?"

"Yes."

"Will you still love her when one day she comes back to herself?"

"You make it sound like you want that to happen." You scoff and avoid the question.

He steps back away from you, looks you over in your soggy dress and frizzy hair. Then smiles as you wipe ineffectively at your panda eyes. Stupid non-waterproof mascara! "I just want you to be happy."

Oh sweet heaven… "Please stop being such a good person, it's really making me rethink the whole 'running out on you' thing."

"Fine!" He bursts, throwing his hands up excitedly, "Good! Don't! Come back with me and we can smooth over everything, pretend it never happened, go on to be married for the next sixty years and never once mention it!" You raise a brow, "alright, perhaps not then."

"Sorry."

The two of you share a small smile at the awkwardness of it all. Which just sort of reminds you how good this might have been.

Although it seems easier to use the excuse that this is all- that you're doing this, that you've left him- because of Faith… it isn't exactly true.

Not that it's a lie!

You might just-

It's just that-

There might be…

"Emily."

Your eyes itch.

"I can always tell when you're thinking of her."

"Because I look like I'm going to cry?"

"Because you smile."

Oh.

It's funny whom you call in a crisis. How the people you depend on aren't the ones you would have expected.

You're not supposed to tell family and friends of a pregnancy before three months.

At the time it had seemed so annoying of Henry to enforce that. With Rose the only other person who'd known you were pregnant was Satsu and you wanted to show this baby off. You wanted your friends to coo over your baby-bump and buy you those cute, matching outfits.

But you ended wishing he'd kept it up longer. For the full six months.

You'd spent half your pregnancy dieing to tell the world and the other half doing just that. So, when you came home after the scan that had changed everything- the one where the doctors tried three different ways to find a heartbeat- to your friends' expectant faces… you'd wanted to eat your words, crush them down between your teeth and take it all back.

Henry had been left to explain after you'd run from the room. And he'd been left to pack your overnight bag while you cried in the bathroom. He'd been left to make all the calls; cancel the decorator, the pre-natal classes and the crib arriving in the morning. You'd even begged him- once your breath stopped tearing at your chest- to please make everyone go away.

Even seeing Rose was hard for a while- which was stupid because loosing one child shouldn't make you want to push the other away!

You didn't want her scribbled drawings and 'get well soon kisses', you didn't want Satsu's herbal tea or soothing tones, you didn't want the simple friendship from Willow and Xander and Tavi and Lexie and every other damn person who tried.

Emily.

Why did you have to give her a name?

You didn't want Henry. You wanted Giles. You wanted your daddy- actual or not. You wanted him to be the adult; to remind you that Leprechauns might still exist- that coincidences do happen, that people with cancer catch colds and you'd have lost this baby whether you were a slayer or not.

But he did the kind thing and didn't lie.

There was crying, yelling and the promise of a full medical work up by a Council doctor. It had seemed so perverse that everything with Rose had been fine after Faith's super strength punch to your stomach and yet this little girl, who you'd gone to such great lengths to protect, hadn't made it.

"I had a child." He'd said, surprising you, "I was young. Too young. It lived for three hours and I was never even allowed to know what sex it was."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"Will you come for the wedding?"

For future reference- because, hey, you just thoughtlessly walked out of one marriage, what's to say you won't idiotically try again?- you really can't invite someone to a wedding two months away and pretend you haven't been studiously avoiding it being mentioned around them. And in this case 'studiously avoiding' really means threatening to rescind invites from the baby slayers.

But, very graciously and with a lot of British charm, he didn't mention the date and accepted. He didn't even mind when you suddenly had an attack of conscience and phoned him three weeks ago to ask for him to walk you down the aisle. Mimtal (also very graciously) was happy to step down, just as he was happy to spend four days searching for a new 'shitty slayer stomach has snapped back into pre-baby flatness within a day' wedding dress.

"So?" You snap out of your depressing thoughts (or should that just be 'thoughts' at this point?) "What do you think? If Faith manages to get herself together." He asks you, as if this is a somehow normal experience, as if your heart isn't breaking in two. "Will you… will the three of you…?"

You shrug, "I always find a way to mess these things up; I ruined my parents' relationship, I'm destroying ours- Dawn barely speaks to me anymore, my friends all think I'm insane-"

"Rose loves you," He smiles, "more than anything."

"Rose is an idiot. Child! I meant 'she's a child'! Faith is the idiot." To the n-th degree.

Regarding you with an affectionate smile he guides you further away from the stairs as it starts to drizzle harder. "For loving you? Well then I'm an idiot too. Satsu's an idiot. Xander's an idiot. My brother is certainly an idiot. That tall, dark haired chap with the nancy hair… actually, he might not be an idiot for you…"

"No," You chuckle, "Angel and I… he's straight. Ignore the hair. And the clothes. And the occasional sex with Spike. Come to think of it, they are pretty gay."

'As apparently are you' says his raised eyebrow. "Who is 'Spike'?

"Another idiot." Who you didn't actually invite to the wedding so he must be here as a 'plus one'… the plus one of someone you know. The plus one of an otherwise dateless person. Leaving only Xander, Angel and… Giles. Which is just disturbing on so many levels.

"I see." Really? "A lot of people love you, Buffy and you make… well, you make at least my world a little better for being in it."

"You're sweet but blinded by idiocy. I'm a pretty big failure in the love department- people tend to… leave." You pat his hand companionably.

He frowns, "Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't you the one who hightailed it out of our wedding reception? And then I followed you. I'd say that's a rather large indication of my not leaving."

"Believe me, you'll want to by the time you get back in there. Possibly coupled with the strong desire to hit me. You can totally go ahead and do that now, by the way- try not to hit a bone though, I don't want you to break your wrist."

"I'm not going to hit you, you sweet fool. Come here." He opens his arms for you and you settle against his chest, your head fitting snugly under his chin.

"Have you always been this tall?"

"Only for as long as you've been this short."

Your wet mascara stains his cream shirt but his hands don't pause in their soothing motions along your back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… It's just that… everything's such a mess. In my head. I don't know what I'm doing. I… I thought… I wanted… it was supposed to be perfect. We were going to have the perfect wedding and the perfect children and grow old together, except- except, you're-" You stop and start a few more times but the tears clog you up and he gets the gist anyway; he isn't part of that 'we'. "And now- now- now everything with… with Emily, it's just… God! We were so stupid! We decorated that- that gorgeous nursery and bought her all those beautiful clothes and- and- and I spent so much time trying to teach Rosy to not be jealous of- of her- her little- little sister that- that- we…"

He makes shushing noises and warms your trembling shoulders with his big, manly arms. Sort-of like Riley. Who you actually haven't thought of in years. "You're laughing, is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

A question silently asked of Faith a thousand times.

Which just makes you laugh harder.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I- I think- think I'm a- a bit hys- hysterical! You- you can s- slap me if- if you want!"

The eyebrows raise again.

He has beautiful eyebrows.

Expressive.

"It's just that… I'm ruining everybody's lives; your life and my life and Faith's life and… and, worst of all, Rosy's and that's- that's just not right! I'm her mother and I'm meant to make her life easier! I just… I've messed everything up!"

"Breathe, Bethy, deep breaths."

You'll never love Henry as much as you love Faith, you'll probably never love him as much as you did Angel (as juvenile and melodramatic as that might have been) but maybe you should have tried?! Perhaps-?! Maybe-?! You should have-?! It's-?!

"Bethy, calm down."

Why is it always so annoying when people say that? It's like when you're trying to paint a picture and someone walks up to say 'that's wrong' but won't tell you what to do to make it right!

It needs to be right. You just don't- don't have any idea what the hell it is you're doing!

"Henry, you- you make me want to be a better person; all the college courses and cleaning up my grammar and being on the PTA and dying my hair back to brown and- and trying so hard to be a perfect parent an- and I just realised that I said my English has improved but I totally keep saying 'and'! And-"

"I believe I understand." He seems half-amused at your raging stupidity.

"Faith eats my cooking and says thank you. She doesn't care that it's shit."

Henry frowns in vague confusion, "I… don't think you've ever cooked a meal for me."

"Well, I didn't want you to leave me. Obviously. It really is shit."

"So you said."

"But that's the point. Around her I… I can have baby sick in my hair and wear tattered clothes and not dye my hair for weeks on end and still know that I'm the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. I can be useless and messy and forget the capital city of Iran because to her I'm still brilliant."

It takes a few seconds for him to digest that before he turns away. You watch his broad shoulders sag slightly, "Bethy, I might not say it often but you really are my perfect wife. I've never liked those stiff, society girls my mother was always trying to fix me up with. I like that you still have a lot to learn. I'm interested in your heart and your mind a-" He stops.

His face turns towards the door of the shop, Romanesque profile clearly defined by the streetlights behind him.

"I'm arguing against a decision you've already settled upon."

You say 'yes' even though you haven't and 'I'm sorry' because you are,

He nods. Once. Twice. Then turns to leave.

"Henry!" Your small hand looks almost comical against his broad shoulders, "Henry, I… I really do love you. You'll make a wonderful husband one day. And…" The ache starts again, "And you would have been… you'll be a brilliant father."

He walks away. There is no long goodbye, no attempt to win back your heart. He knows he has at least a part of it. You both know that had things been different- if you'd never met Faith, if perhaps the wedding had just been pushed back- you would have been a wonderful couple and you would have been in love. Forever.

You can love two people. But you can't be in love with them both.

If you're ever going to move on from Faith, if you're ever going to be happy, you have to let her go.

You can't race around the world trying to save her and you can't hold her in so much of your heart that you sometimes fear the only reason you love Rosy so much is that she's a mini-Faith.

"Hey." Her head pops round the intricate railings.

You chuckle softly and bitterly, your left wrist throbs. "Get out of here Faith."

"Ok. Shit, blame Willow- she sent me with some food for you," She chucks a paper carton of canapés down at your feet and turns to leave, "I was just trying to do a good deed, check you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The sarcasm makes her stop and snigger, "Aside from the shortest marriage ever?"

"Aside from that…"

"Ya sittin' in the cold in a dress that…" She leans forward, "annoyingly doesn't show it off?"

"Wha-?" You look down then roll your eyes, "Why would I be upset my nipples aren't pointing out?"

"Yo, you tell me- ya the one in the street not wearin' much…"

She winks and you chuckle. "You're a hideous person."

"Dude, that is so not what you were saying la-"

"Don't!" You kick her calf, "Stop with the smut, young lady, I'm a married woman now." Her eyebrow raises, "Yeah, until the whole annulment thing… goes… through… how long can I feasibly use that?"

Faith considers, head on one side, then sits at your feet, pulling open the carton and throwing veal pate on French bread, a smoked salmon bilini and a sweet cream puff in her mouth at once. "I'd say…" She starts, way, way, way before it's appropriate to start talking. Ugh, veal and cream even looks gross! "Two weeks for being checked out, three for innuendo and five for all out flirting."

"That's a comfo- Faith! Do not add a prawn mousse to that! Ewgh, you're so-"

"Attractive?"

"Disgusting! And please, stop talking." Though you have missed her real accent.

She shrugs, tosses in something that looks suspiciously like caviar d'aubergine then grins. It's hard to resist searching her eyes- her smile throws you off; is she abnormally happy, excited, high...? Until you realise she just saw the woman she loves running out of her wedding to another person.

That smile suddenly seems a lot brighter.

"So… whatcha gonna do now?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do. Or how I feel. I… should probably be on some kind of daytime soap."

"You slept with his brother?"

"No!"

She giggles, "His mother?"

"Faith!"

"You killed someone and he was the only witness so you beat him until he had amnesia and then planned to marry him so he couldn't testify against you in court only he then hit his head again and remem-"

"Faith!" You reach down to smack her arm, "Stop it. Geez, you have such an overactive imagination!"

"Says the woman who's already picked the centrepieces for her six-year-old daughter's wedding!"

"Centrepieces are important! Why does nobody get that? Plus, they were meant to match our dresses."

There's yet another uncomfortable silence- something you've apparently become very good at creating. But oddly, despite the fact she pretty much is the problem, everything seems so much better, just by her presence.

She's in jeans- not designer or posh or anything, just jeans- with a man's polo shirt, tied in a knot at her waist so not to drown her, and her hair scruffled up from the quick change. You rethink them being boyfriend-cut jeans and consider her mugging some poor chap instead. "Oh, God, 'chap'!"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Stupid Englishness. "You're just not… in a dress anymore."

"Dude, that thing's a gown- and not great for chasing after fugitive brides in. Trust me," She smirks, "I'm pretty hot on correctional types."

"Well it's good to know you weren't bored in prison."

You shake your head at the offer of a devilled egg- caviar is tasty but you have a thing against eating food with the word 'evil' in. Wind change pushes the rain further under the rattling metal roof and she slides gracefully up to sit on the step beside you.

"And I was worried all you had to do was get fat and watch Glitter."

"Ouch!" She chuckles, patting her not-so-delicate heart, "You wound me!"

The English accent is back and your lips get thinner. "Mm… you'll live."

"No, oh," Faith sighs exaggeratedly, wiping at her face, "Tear! Wounded by a Bridezilla!"

You flip her a rude hand gesture, "I am not a Bridezilla- I took all my bridesmaids on holiday before the wedding!"

"Only so you could make them sunbathe topless and have your last look at girlie-flesh while making sure they didn't have the 'wrong' tan lines."

"Dawn told you!?" Traitor!

"No. Was that actually true?"

Her grin only broadens when you nudge her off the step, "I hate you. I had to make sure they didn't have those awful white lines coming out the top. And yes, I know the dresses aren't strapless- and 'ew', by the way, it's a church. You cover your shoulders in churches- but I wanted to make doubly sure no one wore a halter-neck because it took me three weeks to decide on the design for the tops and that beautiful scoop with the fold-over is there to look good."

"You know that, aside from that caplet-thing, your dress is actually strapless, right?"

You look up at her and stick out your tongue, "I didn't say it had to make sense. And it's a bolero."

Faith laughs sweetly and without a hint of awareness. There is nothing in her eyes to say this is even the slightest bit awkward for her.

It's not as if the two of you don't have an awful and complicated history with strings and baggage and all those other things people complain about… but when it's just the two of you, sharing jibes and tiny bits of soggy pastry… well, it just seems… it just seems better. No matter what part of you she breaks, no matter how many men you attempt to marry, no matter what anyone else thinks, when you're with each other it's the easiest thing in the world. At least, when it's the 'real' Faith. Maybe you should marry Faith?

Kennedy's words ring out in your mind again; 'just stop messing everyone the fuck around!'.

It's a fair point.

"Henry must think I hate him." You raise a brow. "Kinda just glared at him today. And mighta stuck my tongue out at one point." The dried tear tracks on her cheeks crinkle as she smiles to pretend they're not there. That makeup must be pretty expensive, it's barely budged.

"You sent him your 'best wishes' in that 'Happy Engagement' card- he appreciated it."

"Oh, no, no, no," She tuts in her Best British Accent, "You congratulate the groom- you give the bride your best wishes. Besides, Mimtal sent the card, I merely signed my name."

Ugh! "Please stop doing that accent."

"What accent?" Faith holds the seriousness for a few moments and then snorts in laughter.

"Seriously, do you wake up every morning and think of fun ways to ruin my life?" Because, if so, well done on a remarkably good job.

"Oh, you mean 'antagonise' you?"

"Stop it!"

She frowns ironically- as if such a thing were possible. "Stop antagonising you or stop using long words that you're supposed to understand now you're brunette?"

Ah, Bridal Hair. At the back of your head there's enough backcombing and hairspray to possibly loose a pencil. "It's for Henry- the brown- he loves natural hair." Which is a stupid thing to say apparently- joking about Henry is fine but mentioning things he loves seems to make her… well, she just stops. And looks at you.

"Oh."

"I should probably dye it red or something!" You blather to cover her silence but instead make it more obvious. "Red! Not 'Buffy Blonde' or 'Bethy Brown' but- but… ok, I can't think of a way to say 'Red' that begins with a 'B' or… or a way to say my name that- 'Bea'! I'll be 'Bea'! And my hair will be… B-… B… ok, I can't-" She snorts, "Can't think of… uh… never mind, I'd probably look dumb anyway. Single and Ginger."

You expect her to sit too close next to you, tell you you're pretty and that she's never stopped loving you- that, even when you stood at that alter and let him hold your hand in his, you were still hers.

Instead she leans against the railing, lights a cigarette and blows smoke-rings away from you.

"I thought you'd given up?"

"Gave up for Rose. Not much point if I never see her."

It's said without bitterness or the weary tone of someone so resigned. It's alright, this moment, it's ok. No need to fight.

No need to talk about your reluctance to allow her prolonged contact with Rose.

No need to mention you've given her daughter a new father.

"I don't blame you." She reaches over to smooth away your frown with the tips of her fingers- the way she used to. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't mine, that she belonged to the both of you- all I want is for her to be happy. And for your life to be perfect. Kinda ruined that little fantasy by running out of your wedding though."

You wince as she chuckles. You're so going to hell.

Faith apologises gruffly when she sees it and moves across the tiny space to sit on the doorstep. "I didn't mean it that way." The cigarette is offered over as a consolation prize- since when have you smoked in Faith's mind?

"No, no, you're right- I've ruined my daughter's life…" She pats the space next to her and you settle back down into it, "Wait, what do you mean 'fantasy'?" You ask in confusion, never before it having crossed your mind that Faith might have dreams as you do. "As in- 'happy home life' or 'weirdly Faith is imagining me naked with another person'?"

"I have lots of 'imagining you naked with other people's." She leers.

"Did you not hear me say 'weirdly'?"

"It's natural! Besides, I meant the other one- the 'happy family' one… 'cept normally it's not another person in that one." You gaze at her in mild confusion as she tries to explain, "I want the two of you to be happy. To have this great life where getting to school on time is your biggest problem and I know that's not going to be with me so I at least want it to be with him. With someone who you love."

It takes a minute for you to realise she's not waiting for you to protest that- to say you don't love him. She genuinely just wants both you and Rosy to be happy. And suddenly you can't see why having her in your life would hinder that. "Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"It's over. I really left him."

"Bummer." She sighs, "For him!" Correcting once you glare. "Obviously it's bad that his poor, American wife, who has no real job or money of her own and never fitted in with his family has left him."

"Thank you so much for parroting back the fears I told you while thinking you were unconscious- that doesn't make me feel weird at all!"

Faith chuckles and shoves your shoulder, "You're welcome, Fatty. Besides, you should know that people can actually hear when they're in a hypnagogic state- not in a deep coma but…" A blush spreads across her cheeks as you stare at her, "I spent some time working with a team of doctors."

"While you were in the coma?"

"Ok, fine, I Wikipedia-d."

Her eyes light up when you laugh, "You're as bad as Rose! Always desperate to know things."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, you're right, there isn't."

She smiles softly and you nod back. "You should eat something."

The vol-au-vont sneer up at you. "I think the food is trying to mock me."

Faith agrees with gravity, "It's the shellfish, it likes to deride anything with its bones on the inside."

"Who knew crustaceans had so much in common with Charlotte Darling?" You laugh a little unkindly. "Well, aside from being 'crusty'."

The Dowager's Darling rolls her eyes but otherwise doesn't deign to contradict. Another cigarette is pulled from the pack- which, you're assuming, actually belongs to the poor guy she stole the clothes from. Or Faith has found the time to graduate from Durham and pick up a commemorative silver lighter. "Hey," She pauses, once her hand is again swallowed by a huge pocket. "Want to see something stupidly corny?"

You nod, a little unsure- Faith's definition of things aren't always everyone else's. 'Decency' is a little contentious apparently. "You're not going to show me a disturbingly situated tattoo are you because I'm a married woman now and… it's just wrong?"

A beat. "You're so weird." Takes one to know one. "No, look." She pulls out of the pocket a necklace; chipped silver-plating and dull glass beads.

Are you supposed to be gracious with her or are exceptions made for people you've spent many hours documenting appropriate presents with? "You know, most people give toasters, espresso-makers, entire sets of Wedgwood china…" Thank you Henry's snooty parents, "A 'dozen double-damask dinner napkins'. You don't think I have to give those back now, do you?"

"Nah, it's cool… should probably point out that your wedding gift from me was a bunch of rotten bananas…"

Just when you think she can't get any stranger, "Uh, why? I hate bananas. And pretty much everyone hates rotten fruit."

"I know. I just figured you'd probably kill me if I ruined your 'special day' in an obvious way so I was sneaky and now all your gifts will smell like the thing you hate. Forever. I'm sneaky like that."

"I'm impressed. I didn't think you had it in you to be subtly evil."

"Well I do!" She passes the necklace over, pressing it into your palm. "Do you really not recognise it?"

Tiny silver links that catch the light, small clear beads with what looks like many faces on the inside, making the light catch and then bounce out like a delicate disco ball… and a small 'B' in the centre- about the only thing untouched by age. The exact place you picked it up escapes you but it quite possibly had something to do with your father's guilt and a trip to Florida. "I gave it to you for Christmas, in Sunnydale, 199…8. But then I worried it wasn't good enough so I gave you t-"

"Don't!" She glares, half laughing, half genuine fear. "I thought we agreed to never talk about… that again?"

"And we wouldn't if you didn't stop going on about your 'scarred' hand." She studies the three faint lines between her thumb and forefinger then sucks them like it'll help. "You've carried that necklace around all these years?"

She shrugs as if thirteen years isn't a long time. "It reminded me of good stuff."

"I get that. God, you have no idea how often I wish everything to go back to the way it was… the way it was before, when you weren't…" Crazy. "Real." Because she was always a little crazy.

Faith screws up her face, "Uh, B, you're not that much older than me and as nice as it is that you want to regress I doubt you'd have that much fun doing it- you remember how much Rosy hated diapers, right?"

"Shut up. I meant… you used to be this… this dream-girl." With chocolate eyes and swishing hair and a spirit that sparked against yours. "And yes, you were a little… insane and liked to beat people up for fun; both vamps and beefy guys in bars- but you just didn't seem real somehow." Like water she always flowed through your fingers- the pretty girl always just out of reach. But, you suppose, she still is a 'girl'- it's not just your 'constant desire to infantilise her' (thank you Giles). It seems silly to think it and stupid to voice it. "I guess I was just foolish and teenage. Never mind."

"Nah." She nods, "I kinda put you on a pedestal too. Makes it harder to fall."

"'Further'. You mean 'it's further to fall'."

"No, I mean it hurts harder when you hit the bottom."

You roll your eyes, "But you said 'harder to fall'- 'to', like you can't be knocked off."

"Well, obviously you can and when you are it hurts more when you hit the bottom." The box of canapés is snatched and a piece of choux pastry flies through the air to smack you in the face.

"Ew!" A small prawn trips down the side of your face. "And I'm not arguing with that!"

"So why are you yelling?!"

Prawn gunk sinks quickly into make up. You pause from attempting to rub it off to give her an 'are you kidding me?!' look. Which, of course, goes undetected. "Because you said the wrong thing!" 'And threw yet more food at me!'

She sucks her teeth because you hate it. "You're really annoying."

"You're kinda dumb."

"You're kinda a bitch."

"You're a little bit gay."

"Dude, you just left your amazing husband- you're a lot gay."

"Mm."

But how gay exactly?

Faith wrings her fingers together, "You know, I… I just… some how I think I could understand it better, accept it more, if it was Satsu you were marrying."

"Oh come on, I've slept with Satsu twice." Faith barely lowers herself to raise an eyebrow. "Ok, fine, three times and one I'm repressing but that doesn't mean anything!"

"You've been living with her for six years and raising our daughter together."

"I has not been…" Who does Rose call for when she's hurt? "like…" How many times have you come home to find a cooked meal and bubble bath waiting? "that. Wow, no wonder Rose is confused. I'm confused."

"Of that we are painfully aware." She smirks, in her perfect English accent.

"I'm really not above hitting you."

"But are you low enough to hit on me?"

You gape and turn from her faster than could be gracious.

Stupid love!

Stupid life!

Stupid mess!

Stupid always leading Faith on! "No- wait- I… Faith… this isn't… I'm not… I… I'm not trying to… I don't want…"

"Me."

"That's…" A thump begins behind your eyes to match the one in your wrist. "That's not what I'm saying."

"I just want to be happy, I just want…" You don't want her back as a lover. You want her back as a parent. "Everything seems so dark right now. Everything seems so…" Yet she won't understand, she has no idea about Emily.

She hasn't exactly been around to notice your growing stomach and, despite being proficient in a freakishly large amount of languages, Faith can't write for shit- thus ruling out being pen pals.

Not that you'd have any idea where to even send the damn letter.

The rain begins to batter down against the metal porch roof. It's the only sound and the dull thup, thup, thup reverberates between you. Faith frowns, obviously thinking deep thoughts.

"Hello awkward silence, how I have missed you in the last five minutes." You smirk and expect her to do the same. She doesn't.

"So… what happened? Are you… are you… I mean, it's not like he had a good reason to break it off. You are going back to him? Right?"

You study the jagged scar on the inside of your wrist, where the bone broke through the skin. Above it sits Henry's ring. "I told him I'd never love anyone as much as you."

"Oh. That probably is a good reason." The shell-shocked smile spreads across her face. "Wow." You smile back, "You know, technically, you're actually married to me."

"Explain. Please."

"Well," 'don't laugh' her eyes ask, "I once lived in your skin. And you lived in mine. So we're the same person. Technically."

Trust Faith to take two and two and make butter! "No, we were the same person. Then we got put back in our right bodies and divorced!"

She shakes her head, "Yeah, see, I didn't sign any papers- I'm not sure that divorce was fully legal."

"You didn't sign any to get married either! And I have no recollection of ever saying 'I do' to you- EVER."

"Hey, you're the one who held my hand- your funny blue soul touched my funny red soul." A soft shrug. "Married."

"You remember the colours of our souls?"

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, "Uh… or you might have been the red one and I'm the blue one. You do look good in red."

"And you look amazing in blue," She really, really does- especially soft, powder blue. It makes her skin look creamy when she has a tan and delicately porcelain when she doesn't. "But it's a struggle getting you into anything that nice."

"You ruined my favourite blue bikini- now every time I look at other blue clothing it just feels like I'm cheating."

"You were cheating- that's why I ruined your bikini!" Ah, the months after Italy… such… excruciatingly unbearable memories… almost makes you want to…

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah."

She flicks away her cigarette- out into the wet and murky blackness- and stands too quickly, moving as far away from you as possible.

"Look, Faith, I can't… I can't promise that in a month's time this is all going to be sorted and there'll be some kind of quick annulment and I'll stop loving him and you can just slot back into our lives, but-"

"I get it." She ducks her head and watches the rain drip down onto the pavement from the awning above you.

"No. You don't." The dress makes another horrific crunching noise as you slide inelegantly off the step and over to her. "I want you Faith, I want you more than anything. But I don't… I don't want it like this. I don't want it to be like this. Does that make sense?"

You want the teenage dream, you want the illusion of perfection created in the hospital while giving birth- you want to feel safe and secure and loved. What you don't want it is a broken wrist and this constant back-and-forth; having to lie to Rose to the point where the poor kid truly believes that Henry is her father.

Faith is hovering slightly on a precipice right now, which is to be expected- normally these big traumatic events send her spiralling either up or down. Her self-restraint today is admirable. You can't stand to be around her when she's 'like that' because the things spewing from her mouth are so not her that it near-literally tears your heart in two to hear it from someone usually so strong. You know you love someone when you'll stick by them through anything, you know you're in love with someone when you can't bear to see them destroyed. 'Don't.' You want to tell her; 'don't get lost.'

You try to catch her eye but she looks away, frowning angrily at a lamppost as if she wants to burn a hole through it with her super powered glare. "You know, I do actually have a life. I'm not just the moon to your planet- I don't just 'slot' into your life. How do you know I don't have someone? How do you know I'm not busy? How do you know I still want to be a part of your little soap opera?"

"Excuse me?!"

"It's not always about you! What if I just want Rosy? What if I never want anything to do with you again?"

You try to think back, try to remember, every look, every word, every touch over the last four and a half years. The ones that lingered and suggested, the passionate ones that wanted so much to just do, just say, just be. She loves you. "But you do."

"You don't know that! You can't just assume!" She stands up and tries to pace, except the space is so small it's pretty much just one step there, one step back and she soon realises how stupid she looks.

There was a time when you did that, a time when you moved not just to move but with the hope that by walking out your aggression you could divert your anger away from punching in her face. Actually, there've been a lot of those times.

Faith went missing on your eighteenth birthday, coincidentally just as you'd had your powers taken away by your fucking-! So not the time.

So, your powers had been taken away and all you'd wanted was for Faith to be there; not just because another slayer would have been incredibly useful at that point but also because you really, really, needed a hug. It was late February by the time you finally got around to actually kissing so in mid-January a hug still seemed like the ultimate in naughty treats. They were the long kind (where you hold on for just a little too much time but it doesn't matter because she totally just sniffed your hair) and the two of you were taking practically any excuse to sneak them in.

Stupidly, you'd become so addicted to the damn things that you hadn't waited, like Giles told you to, for you powers to come back before you slipped out to find her. On the trip between her empty motel room and The Bronze you'd been jumped by a vamp- although in your semi-weakened condition it felt like three- who'd torn your cute top and messed up the hair you spent two hours teasing into huggable perfection. Once you'd tumbled into the club (after flirting excessively with the bouncer so he'd actually let you in looking like garbage) your eyes had shot to the middle of the dance floor, where she normally was, holding everyone's attention, but even though Stag, the Creepy But Hopefully Gay Bartender, assured you she was 'in tonight' there was no sign of her.

If you could go back in time you're not sure what you'd tell your younger self; would making her wait by the bar have changed anything? Would the Sliding Doors-ness of it all have meant you'd have calmed down enough to continue building the friendship regained at Christmas or would not seeing Faith coming out of the guy's bathroom zipping up her pants, closely followed by some random college boy doing the same, have made no difference? Stupid hindsight.

You'd already been so angry about the disappearing, the betrayal, the vampire-jumping and The Council being their usual shitty selves that seeing her… like that, had boiled your blood until you could do nothing but scream at her like the powerless, soppy teenage girl you suddenly found yourself to be. There was even a clichéd storm-off.

She followed you out the back door and stood calling after you in the dark alley- tellingly not apologising or even attempting to explain but instead warning to be careful in the dark night.

"Don't go on your own! Let me walk you back!"

"No!" You'd stopped though and turned (if only, you told yourself, to tell her off), "No! You can't play the concerned friend now and then disappear whenever something really big is happening!"

Faith gave you her patented 'you're a crazy girl' look, "How can I know something big is happening if you never tell me anything?!"

"I never tell you things?! I never tell you?! You tell me nothing about anything! I don't even-" The truth was, there were just too many things you didn't know about her to make a list. "Even…" Her red top had had a dark stain- blood, alcohol, something you didn't want to think about- in the exact place yours had been torn. "You don't even have an excuse, do you?"

She didn't.

It was only hours later, through the hazy memories of dried tears that you realized- you hadn't formalised your 'thing'- she didn't owe you one.

"I'm not yours ok? I don't belong to you- I do not have 'Property of Buffy Summers' tattooed on my forehead!" Faith hits the metal bars, making them clang awfully.

But unlike that time, she doesn't pull you close, apologise and swear to never so much as accidentally knock against another human being- she promised the next person she'd kiss would be you.

But it wasn't. It very publicly wasn't. Goddamn it. She made the promise again after Xander but it still wasn't…

"Yes you do!"

A murderous light ignites in her eyes, "Excuse me?"

"For fuck sake Faith! We keep going round and round when really… when really we're so obviously… I… We're…"

She smiles, waiting, "Say it. You know there's no reason why we're not together. Except your soon-to-be-annulled marriage."

You shake your head but let her rest her hands on your shoulders, "You're not stable enough for Rose, yet."

"Ouch."

"Faith, I-"

"Stop it! Don't act like you're the- the ultimate in perfect mothers when you're not! You're not in any sense of the word! You lie to our daughter and spoil her until my sweet girl, takes pleasure in- in belittling other people and making everyone around her feel inadequate!"

"Faith…"

"She asked me if I was a 'retard'!"

"What?" Again? Did she not get the point from the last talk you had with her about that!

"I told her she shouldn't eat too many grapes or her stomach would get acidy- the way it does- except I said she should eat 'less' grapes and not 'fewer' which was apparently cause to ridicule me in front of her friends."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so… oh God…" She chuckles as you drop your head down onto her shoulder. "My daughter's a bitch…"

"Yeah. I guess so. I think she gets it from your sister."

"Undoubtedly."

"Or just you."

You punch her shoulder and then wince as you unintentionally prove her point. "Damnit. You're good at this."

"Coning you into things? Yeah, it's a skill…" A red flush blooms across her face. "Not a great skill but… hey, I could probably make a career out of it!"

"Good for you." Snarky sarcasm is the best kind. "You go be a millionaire, globetrotting con woman and I'll stay unemployed, poor and homeless- don't you just love karma?"

"So stay a kept woman- marry Henry! We could sneak you back in! They'll never even notice you're gone!" You try not to look too hopeful "It's not like you're me- a blind/deaf person with anosmia would notice when I left the room."

"And yet I'm the one being blamed for Rose's arrogance?"

She mock gasps, "I thought you said she never sees me?"

"Apparently some things are genetic."

"Like your silky hair?"

And dear lord is it shiny! "I know, right? Summers women are just naturally-" She smiles, you stop.

"How do you keep making me walk into your traps?"

"I'm a black widow, try not to mate with me."

"Don't worry, never going to happen again."

"Never." It's not a question but there is surprise in it. "So the two of us…?"

You curse yourself for being glib without thinking. It was just a saying. Right? Right? Damnit. "I don't mean… just…" Maybe you should just shut up? Forever. "Time."

"Time?"

You stand at the same time and move apart, her back to the railings and you to the stone wall, to count the tiny notches in the painted sandstone. "The thing is…" There's a throat clearing and some shuffling but you don't turn. "I think there's a point at which, a time when someone… when a person's actions might… might cause you to fall out of… loving them. Not- not completely, I… I- you would still 'love' them of course! But… There comes a point at which a person's actions make you fall out of love."

"You don't love me."

"I love you. I just… I…" Have completely lost the ability to explain yourself. "I need time to-" No. No, because you really don't. You're not the one who needs time.

This is too confusing. And stupid. Big stupid. Everything is stupid.

How about you just leave them all? You can leave Rose to be raised by Henry and Sassy, let Faith kill herself unmonitored, put the fate of the world in other people's hands (which, to be honest, you've sort of already done) and just live on a deserted island in the middle of-

Actually, sand is kind of icky.

"I think it's more that I need you to be a little… to be… I need you to…"

"To not be myself? You said you don't want our relationship to be 'like this' and I get that, I do, I'm sorry for the mess that's been 'us' in the last few years but if you want me to be someone different then that's just not… what I want."

"Faith-"

"No!" The two of you stand there. Two planets. At opposite ends of the solar system. "Just let me- Just… what about what I want? And please, stop acting like this is my fault or like I'm the only one who messed this up because I didn't just marry some random guy who I may possibly love but probably don't and lied to my kid and everyone around me just because I think in some fucked up alternate universe that it's the right thing to do!"

She takes a deep breath and her cheeks pink from the lack of oxygen. "I-"

Your words are brushed away as Faith hurriedly lights another cigarette, pausing once turned, "Look, I know I'm not exactly parent material-"

"Right now. You're not parent material right now." You itch to take her hand or touch her bare arm but instead just fidget, knowing it's not what she wants. "I think you can be. You said earlier that you dream about Rosy being happy no matter who plays her 'dad'- being selfless is pretty much what parenting's all about."

Her past accusations hang in the air. If you're so selfish how could you ever be called a good mother? "I still think you're a good person." She answers, without being asked, "I think what you've done here is amazing- this life that you've built out of… nothing really. You're not the same girl I fell in love with; yeah, she was innocent and funny and sweet but she was naïve, stupid and… kind of a bitch as well- you're not that any more."

"You think I'm not funny?"

She laughs- not her usual one, more of a distracted titter, amused that the only thing you'd pick up on would be the insult. "You have your moments."

"Want to know new me? She has funny bits too." You smile winningly, that cute little half-smile you keep just for her. "Oh! Like the other day! When Henry was picking out my wedding dress for me and the dress assistant asked for my measurements and I turned to Henry and said 'yes darling, what size are you?' and it was totally funny because I'm the gay one! Which…" You trail off, "You'd kinda know… but they didn't! And they laughed anyway! So it was ironic and funny!"

Faith laughs out loud at your gaping smile and huge eyes, like a neurotic puppy, desperate for her approval.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise- I think it's cute."

"My babbling?"

"No, just your general weirdness." She grins and dodges as you swat her, accidentally stepping out into the freezing rain. "Gah!"

You pull her back in and then down to the step with you. Half a ruined petticoat goes around her shoulders and the other half around yours. Weirdly, despite having just pulled up your dress you still can't actually see your legs, too much taffeta, and silk and lace and… "God, this is a stupid dress. It took me a full hour to put on this morning- with the help of professionals, who knows what the hell we were planning to do for the wedding night!" It occurs to you that you're talking about sex with a man you're probably never going to have sex with again to a girl you just might. "Pretend I didn't say that."

"Why? I like imagining him not having sex with you." You nudge her shoulder companionably and she smiles. "I really do want you back, you know."

"I know. But like you said- you don't know me anymore. And I don't know you. Everyone keeps telling me what a great person you are now and I guess I've been missing out while I was busy…" She raises an eyebrow "Avoiding you. Ok, so I'm a bad person."

"Nah," You watch as she eyes the corpse of her last cigarette, dropped when she stumbled into the rain, with a hungry look. Deep conversation always brings out the chain smoker in her. "We talked about this- you're not a bad person you're a…?"

"Self-centred one? Thanks."

She shrugs with the classic 'what you gonna do?' face.

"I'd like to get to know you. I'd like for you and Rosy to get to know each other as well- it'll probably help with the being ripped away from Henry bit too."

"Just 'cos you're not gonna marry the guy doesn't mean he's just gonna desert her. He seems like a pretty stand up guy, doubt he'd do that."

"I ran out on him on our very-expensive wedding day because I lied to him and am in love with a woman- I think not killing me is 'pretty stand-up' at this point." Which brings you to an even bigger issue; "Plus we're kinda homeless now- it's Henry's house."

"I figured."

"And it's Henry's money, but it's…" She waits as you try to think of anything in that house that actually belongs to you- other than the stuff in boxes in the attic, "It's my dress." You finish lamely.

"A dress? Your entire worldly possessions come down to a dress? That's so like you!" The petticoat slips off her shoulders as she laughs until she's clutching her sides.

"It's a very expensive dress! And it's custom made! And I'm pretty sure I'm sitting in a puddle!"

You pout until she takes pity upon you, "Aw, poor Bumble Bee, need a hug?"

"Please."

Faith throws one oddly warm arm over your chilly shoulders and pulls you in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "When did you get so obsessed with money anyway?" She asks after a few minutes, when you're comfortably settled in the protective heat of her chest. "We got by just fine on Giles' meagre offerings."

"Well… this is actually the second dress, Henry bought me the first one but that was way too big for me now. Obviously."

"Oh?" She looks you up and down, "Have you lost weight?"

A quick glance down and your hand is unconsciously rubbing the flat path between your hipbones. Stupid non-rounded stomach. Stupid-

Calm. Down.

"No. It was… just too big."

"Oh. You know, we could always head on up to Sherwood Forest and get some help from that 'robbin' from the rich' dude."

"That 'Robin from The Rich Dude' is actually more commonly known as 'Robin Hood'."

"Dude! I screwed Robin Hood!"

Shudder. "'Wood', Faith, 'Robin Wood'."

"Give me a break- I haven't slept in a week!"

There's a companionable silence for once, the type where it actually feels nice to not be talking.

Her voice when she breaks it is much softer and it's all said with a calm smile, "So. You really think I could be a good parent?"

Hey, like she said, she isn't the one who's been lying to Rose. She doesn't mess up fifty times a day. She didn't walk out on a possible family just because she can't take the uncertainty anymore. She doesn't then walk out on yet another family because she is such a good liar that having to do it all day every day wouldn't even phase her!

Oh God, you've become your father. Except, you're not walking away from responsibility you're trying too hard to find the perfect life. You want so badly for Rose to be happy- for her childhood to be the kind that people call 'idyllic', not the kind where you look back and realise the smiles are all faked, that they were lying to you all along. Rosy's favourite saying is 'did you know…?'- said always with the same brightening of the eyes and quivering hands of an educational high. She is too precious to destroy.

"You're not all selfish and stupid like me so how could you not be?"

She slips a hand around your elbow to smooth out your clenched fist, "You're the best mother I've ever seen."

Out of yours, hers and… well, your Mom was nice at least. "You're sweet to say that."

"It's the truth." Faith's thin fingers- how are they daintier than yours?- gently guide your face back away from watching the brick wall. "Any other mom who's told her daughter's gonna be tiny would be all 'why me?!'. But you said 'why her?'- that's the difference."

You did? "I did?"

"Yeah, you held my hand and tried to figure out what the hell the damn Scottish doctor was saying and you asked what you could do for her." April 2008. Worst night of your life.

"I'm… amazed you remember that."

She shrugs like it's natural, "I remember everything about you. And my baby. Even if I'm not… here, I'm still… watching. I promise."

"You're always in there?"

"I… I guess I'm wherever you are."

There's something about that- the image of pure 'Faith' floating above you while her body walks around, crazy and loud and angry- that makes you smile. "Aw, that's sweet… and corny. Will you hate me if I admit I like that corny much better than the cheap, chipped necklace which is, to be honest, making my hands smell really bad?"

It's slipped from your hands and put back in her pocket. "I'd be offended but the other day I wrapped it round my finger for about an hour and it turned green. Still kinda love it though."

"I'm sorry for the general crumminess of my gifting."

"I gave you rotten bananas. We're even."

She is turned more towards the street and you're facing the front door (which, you're pretty sure, is 'British Racing Green'), so when she frowns over your shoulder you make the conscious decision not to turn.

"Uh… B?" She motions behind you.

Henry stands in the rain, his arms crossed and a strange calm upon him. "I've changed my mind."

"What?" You ask as one.

"I've changed my mind, you can't have her."

Faith snorts, "Not really your decision."

"I don't belong to you." But Faith's hand is still in yours so you let it go and hope she doesn't notice.

"Actually, as of-" he checks his watch, "Five hours ago, you do."

Wow. "I…" The deceptive diamond sparkles on your finger, "Didn't realise you were such a chauvinist. It's unattractive."

He shakes his head, "No, I'm just looking after you. You're my wife and that's what I'm meant to do."

"You can't stop me loving her!"

Faith beams out a huge smile and fails to cover it with a cough when you glare at her. "What? Hearing that never gets old. Makes me feel all gooey inside."

You try to ignore how every time Belle kisses The Beast it also makes Faith feel 'gooey inside'. "You big girl."

"I'm not going to even try stopping your love for her- as apparently that's the real foundation my marriage is based upon- but I am going to refuse the termination of our marriage until she can prove she deserves you."

Faith shoots out to attack him but you grab the back of her top and haul her down to the step. "Don't you dare talk about her like-!"

"Satsu told me everything!" He roars at you and it's so very unlike him you shrink back to the step yourself. Finally, he steps out of the rain and glares at you both like a strict head teacher. "She spent the last half hour…"

His eyes sear into your wrist, even as you cover it with your right hand. "Oh."

"I didn't mean…" Faith whispers, almost to herself, "I'd never… not if I could…"

Your first instinct is to wrap your arms around her and tell her it's alright. So you do. She seems just as surprised as you. Henry only nods. "You told me she was 'difficult'- you didn't say she was 'dangerous'! Everything you said… you left out the important parts. Well, Satsu filled them in for me." You hide your face away from them both. "She told me how you've known each other for thirteen years now and how, despite life seeming destined to keep you apart, you always find your way back to each other."

"Yeah." Faith chuckles, a sweetly self-deprecating sound. "Even when we don't really want to."

"I want to." You run your fingers over the old scars on her wrists- the ones from prison, the steel rope that held her down as she screamed for you.

Her eyes study yours, as if she can't tell just from your voice what you mean. Though she knows you so well by now she can probably predict your thoughts before you have them. "Mm, me too."

Henry coughs, "Faith? I think… that is, I'm willing to let you have the girls back," You sigh out your displeasure- so not a commodity, "On one condition."

He passes her a card. A business card. A card for your private doctors' surgery.

"Oh." You try not to get your hopes up. "Oh?"

"I won't give my girls back until you can prove you deserve them." You should feel affronted but she doesn't seem to mind, "You don't have to take medication or shock therapy or- to be honest, I don't really know what they do for this kind of… You just have to prove you're trying."

"Right." Faith studies the card almost absently.

He waits for her to snap out of it and either punch him or (possibly) you. It's hard not to smirk as he widens his stance- like a better footing is actually going to protect him from a slayer's power!

"Um… I…" She frowns and half-smiles in an 'oh so ironic' kind of way, "Don't really know what to say."

"How about 'thank you'?" The mother in you automatically responds. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"S'ok, B."

She's still staring intensely through the card so you shrug at Henry and try to tell him your appreciation through your look. "Is there a time frame?"

"Oh." He blushes, seeming suddenly guilty- as if a plan thought up on the spot shouldn't really be vocalised until all the points have been worked out. "Uh, no. Sorry. I guess this isn't the type of thing that has a… time frame."

"That's alright."

Faith scratches away at her left arm compulsively and then looks sickeningly guilty as soon as Henry notices. "I'm not- I don't- I'm not always…"

You take her hand. "He knows." And at least you got her to stop biting her nails when upset.

"Just show me you're willing." Henry speaks to her profile while you hold her eyes and try to beg her to make you fall in love with her again.

"Faith?"

"Ok."

"What?" She seems so open to this, so utterly unconcerned, you frown. "I've been trying to get you to see a doctor for three years. Kennedy's been trying for longer."

"Yeah, but, I didn't have a proper reason before." 'How about not hitting me?'

"Really? It's that simple? All it took was Henry asking you?" Why not? It's not as if she doesn't have a pattern; when something goes wrong Faith looks for help with the closest available strong male and turns you into the Wicked Witch of the West.

"He has something I want. And…" She pauses to smile, "I can't promise that tomorrow I'm going to remember this- or if I do remember it, that I won't hate either of you for it… but I'll try."

The corners of Henry's mouth pull up slightly, "That's all I ask. I don't suppose you could take Be- Buffy, back to the house, could you? I… I think I have a lot of explaining to do. My mother is probably going to be quite pleased she was right."

"No," Faith shakes her head stubbornly, "She was secretly hoping the two of you would make it work."

You snort, "Good to know. A little late but still…" Henry gives you a look only a best friend would understand and the two of you giggle like children. Charlotte is so going to be pissed. "What about after your dismembering?"

He shrugs nobly, "A Hotel. My father probably has enough of them in the city to house me and my… 'members', separately."

Ha ha; 'member'!

"Dude, even I didn't laugh at that one."

Henry coughs politely and pretends to look away as you both prod and jostle each other. "I'll give you the keys to one of the cars, Faith. Just show the Car Chap your European Driving Licence and-"

"I don't have a driver's licence, Henry, I'm an escaped convict."

He laughs. Then realises she isn't. "Oh. Bugger. Well… well done, I suppose, on the… the breaking…" He casts a marginally desperate look your way, "out?"

"Thanks. Kinda easy. Prison security is for shit."

She smirks as he tries to work out that sentence. "I'm never going to truly understand American, am I?"

You stand to lay a soothing hand on his arm.

"It's alright darling, I don't understand you most of the time."

"It would have been a good marriage." He grins.

"The best."

There's a sigh, a smile and a shrug. In the manliest of ways. "Alright, I'll go… book you a taxi."

"Sure." That's- hey! "Wait, hold on! I do have a driving licence!"

"But I don't own the car. My father does and I've already had to face him to explain the three you've-"

"Lost." You prompt. Just because they ended up wrapped around lampposts doesn't mean they're still with you. And the car guys in the big truck took them away each time so really, 'lost' is a rather accurate description.

"Sure." He parrots back, sounding suspiciously like the aforementioned 'car guys'- in the bits they weren't laughing their asses off anyway.

"I hate you."

Henry winks at Faith, as if to be polite, as if to say; 'shucks, your wife is crazy'. Except, he wouldn't say 'shucks'. Aside from that it's quite accurate. "You love me."

"Like a fat kid loves cake."

"Ugh." Faith groans, "Please don't tell me you guys bond over 50cent songs, it really screws up my world view."

His eyes twinkle at her but in a slightly restrained way. "We wouldn't want that."

You stand, to say goodbye as he turns to leave, but the whole process becomes a little strange- kiss, hug, awkward handshake? In the end Faith settles it, with an obnoxiously loud; "Dude, you're not divorced yet- make the fuck out while you still can!"

You settle for a chaste peck on the cheek. He nods, looking a little like a Roman god who just realised he's naked, and makes a hasty retreat. "So handsome…" Your captive (but slightly more concerned with scraping out the inside of a mille feuille with a mini chocolate tart than listening to you) audience snorts. "On the plus side; I now don't have to get on the stupid plane to go on my honeymoon!"

"Still not over the plane thing?"

"I got over my fear of submarines! Give me a little credit here!" Though that was mainly because you've survived drowning- you've never lived through a huge metal box you're contained in falling from the sky into the side of a mountain!

She chuckles naughtily and, shoving the mix of pastry, cream and chocolate and strawberry jam into her mouth, pulls you down to sit on her lap, huge skirts spilling over either side.

"Faith!"

"What? I was cold."

Her unnaturally warm arms wrap around your corseted waist, hands sneaking under your silk bolero top to cover your chilly shoulder blades. "And the touching?"

A shrug, "I was cold."

Against your better judgement you ignore the drizzling rain, the dark night and the flickering streetlight above you. To the back of your mind are sent the 'why's the 'how's and the 'what the hell do you think you're doing's. You let her rest her forehead against yours.

Wind whips down the street, passers-by chatter and Faith's breath plays against your sensitive skin.

"H!" A random kid calls in the distance.

You lean in closer, so near to those lovely lips… "Yeah?!" Faith replies out to the night. Which is weird. How would you get 'H' out of 'Faith Leh-' oh, you just got it; 'Hope'.

"I'm on curfew!"

Ew. "Please don't tell me you brought a teenager as your date to my wedding?"

"Uh, actually, I'm the one setting that curfew."

Say what? "Because you're parenting someone else's children now?"

"Allegra is my Apprentice Slayer," You snort (because really where does she get this stuff from?), "Did you not get the memo? Well, Willow-length memo- someone really has to talk to her about the appropriate length for official documents…"

"Is it weird that out of the two of us you're the one who always reads the handbook?" And has a proper adult job?

"Dude, I bought you like… three new copies of the damn handbook- you're just a lazy ass."

You ignore that along with the hands tracing patterns on your back. "I know a girl called Allegra. She's six, red hair, picks her nose."

"Different girl; fifteen, black hair, hates the world."

"Aw, déjà vu."

"Fuck you."

The smile becomes infectious until you're grinning along with her.

"I almost forgot how sexy that little grin is… you should let it out more."

She leans in to complete the kiss but rationality unfortunately overcomes you. "Faith, no. No kissing." Her eyes flick pointedly down to where your hands are refamiliarising themselves with her chest. "What? I'm cold."

"Right…"

"I just… I need to be single, I need to… I need…" Faith. Your Faith. "It doesn't matter. I just need to be alone for a while."

She nods and, for once, understands. "So I'm still 'aunt'?"

"For the time being."

"I'm a hot aunt."

You chuckle and lay your head down against her shoulder, your breath being the tease this time. "Hottest ever."

The tiny hairs on her neck raise and you giggle as she shivers. "This feels like a moment where we should make out."

"Still legally married."

"Still legally hot."

"Shut up Faith."

You sit in a companionable hug for a few moments before she turns to look at you. "B?"

"Yeah?"

"Who the fuck gets married in the middle of a monsoon?"