Buffy seemed to be moving in slow motion to get ready, but Faith felt no impatience towards her for this. She herself felt heavy-limbed, her movements made with effort and mental reminders to go through with them. Her thoughts were cloudy and slow, strangely detached from herself, as though she were observing another person's thoughts rather than experiencing them.
She shouldn't be so stunned by Robin's death. Yesterday, she had actually thought him dead already at one point. But after his "surprise resurrection," she had thought him recovered or at least recovering, strong and tough enough to make it through, in the end. She had thought the deaths were over, at least for now. Until the next apocalypse.
But it had been stupid, making that kind of assumption. People died every day, for much more mundane reasons than evil demonic killing things or end of the world catastrophes. Even Buffy had died once from simple drowning. None of them, powers or not, were immune to death and its ultimate power over them.
Few words exchanged between Faith and Buffy as they showered, dressed, and otherwise prepared themselves to join the others on the bus. It appeared that Giles had already informed the others of Robin's death, because Faith noticed that a few of the Potentials and Andrew were crying or looked as though they had been recently. A distant part of her suspected that it was not so much grief over Robin, whom most had really barely known, as much as it was delayed reaction to all the other losses and deaths of the past few months, catching up to them. The older group- Willow, Xander, Giles, and Buffy herself- showed little reaction, only a grim somberness to their expressions and body language to indicate their state of mind. As everyone seated themselves, Willow taking the wheel of the bus, Faith didn't fail to notice that Buffy sat alone, but directly across from Faith's chosen seat.
Faith didn't bother attempting to analyze any meaning behind this, if there was any. She had chosen a seat to herself, towards the back, and made no effort at conversation with anyone, even on surface level. She was not in the mood to speak. She felt numb, almost cold inside, and as she leaned her head against the window, staring towards the passing sites without really seeing them, she could feel Buffy watching her. She didn't turn her head to meet her eyes, nor did she ask her, as she usually might, if there was something she wanted to say. She simply sat, maintaining her silence, until the bus came to a stop in the hospital parking lot.
Although everyone went together into the hospital, only Giles and Willow went to claim Robin's body and speak with the hospital officials about the options available for its care. Willow seemed unofficially second in command now, with Buffy's unspoken but clear lack of caring towards this, although always in the past, it would have been Buffy, even over Giles, who was in charge. The others dispersed themselves among what entertainment the hospital had to offer, browsing the gift shop, going to get drinks or snacks in the café, and even checking out the small library, in some of the nerdier girls' and Andrew's cases. Without anyone asking anything of her or paying attention to her whereabouts, Faith quietly left the hospital, drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Being in anything resembling a medical facility made her skin crawl; after eight months in a hospital, whether or not she'd been awake and coherent, it was about the last place on earth she would choose to be.
There was a small gas station across the street, and Faith made her way over to it, purchasing an energy drink, a lighter, and a few one dollar packs of cigars. She had already downed half the can by the time she crossed back to the hospital. Wandering around its exterior until she found the designated smoking area outside, she paced as she lit the first cigar, her hands shaking with her first attempt. As she took in her first drag, breathing in deeply and then letting out the smoke in slow, uneven exhalation, she felt first one, then a second and third tear begin to slowly scald the skin of her cheeks.
She ignored them, hoping they were some kind of fluke and would disappear on their own, but more came in their place. Leaning against the hospital wall, she continued to smoke, crying as silently as she could manage, her chest tight and aching with the pressure of her efforts to hold back.
She didn't know what the fuck was the matter with her. It wasn't like she had loved Robin Wood. Hell, she had barely even liked him. They had had sex a couple of times, that was all. Sex had never meant anything to her before, and it hadn't with Robin either. She had always made sure of that. He might have wanted more, or been willing for more, but Faith herself, that had not been a true consideration or even a question on her horizon.
Robin wasn't any different from anyone else that Faith knew or had known. He wasn't any more special or close to her than any number of the girls that had just died in the very same battle.
So why the fuck was she crying? If he wasn't different…then was she? Had something changed in her?
"Faith."
Faith's head swiveled fast at the sound of her name spoken aloud, with enough harshness to the movement that she heard a popping noise accompany it. She ignored the flare of pain, narrowing her eyes and willing the tears still present on her cheeks to quickly dry up and evaporate out of sight, or at least to drop down into the skin of her shoulders or chest, where they would be less noticeable. And of course, not to fucking return.
Because it was Buffy who had called out to her softly, Buffy who was still approaching at a slow but steady pace. And even now, Faith absolutely was not comfortable with Buffy seeing her cry.
Arranging her features into a mask of indifference, though aware that the look was probably strained and not quite as practiced as she would like, Faith raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Buffy to say whatever it was she had come to say. She expected her to wrinkle her nose at the smell of the cigars or at least to comment on them, but Buffy seemed unbothered by them, continuing to draw closer. Maybe Spike had gotten her used to the smell; still, it seemed something that the other girl would have been judgmental and princess-like about. At least, back in one point in time.
"What's up, B?" Faith asked, her voice as calm and casual as she could make it, but she cursed herself when, raising her cigar back to her lips, she saw her hand tremble, yet again. "They leaving already? Made all the big plans?"
"No," Buffy said simply, her eyes on Faith's face. Her expression was difficult to read, but Faith thought there was something more…present…in her eyes than she'd seen in the last day. Buffy seemed actually with her in the moment, instead of checked out in some place inside herself.
And that probably meant that she'd noticed the tears, however fast Faith had sucked them back. Fuck.
"Well, here I am, safe, sound, and unmolested by demons, if someone was wondering," Faith shrugged, taking another deep drag of the cigar, hoping the hit of nicotine would bring with it the calm she sometimes got from it. At the very least it gave her something to focus on, a way to occupy her hands. "And don't worry, before you comment, I'm not handing these things out to the baby Slayers," she added, nodding towards her hand. "Keeping these things all to myself, unless you want a hit. If you do, knock yourself out."
She held the cigar out to Buffy, hoping to distract her into some kind of disgusted rant or lecture against the evils of tobacco against health, stains on teeth, skin, and clothing, and whatever else the girl could come up with in her declination. But Buffy ignored the offer, instead meeting Faith's eyes with a steady, watchful gaze of her own.
"You don't have to pretend you're okay, Faith."
Faith's chest compressed, and she pressed her lips together hard, her features tightening with the increasing difficult effort of keeping still threatening tears back behind her eyes, back where she felt they very much belonged. She stubbed out her cigar against the hospital wall, not wanting Buffy's attention drawn to her hands and the worsening of their trembling state. Crossing her arms over her chest in unconscious defense, she jerked up her chin in the other girl's direction, her words coming out through grinding back teeth.
"You're one to talk, B. Isn't that how you go through every day? Do you think it's actually working, because anyone with fucking eyes can see through it."
"But they don't," Buffy said quietly, a note in her voice that made Faith lower her chin slightly, looking at her more directly. "No one has. Except for you."
Faith breathed in through her nose, then swallowed, her eyes flitting to the side. Of all times, Buffy had to pick now, right fucking now, to have some kind of heart to heart? To lift out of her zombie-like state and indicate a level of observance that for once, Faith didn't want her to possess?
"I'll stop pretending with you," Buffy said after several moments of silence between them, her voice still quiet, but rational, even measured in its tone. "That I'm okay, I mean. I'll stop with you, if you'll stop with me."
Faith's eyes swerved back to take in the girl's face, and seeing no hint of mocking or trickery there, she stared, not quite sure what to think. In spite of the shift in dynamics between them in the battle and its aftermath, in spite of the strangeness of their conversation the night before, it seemed so utterly surreal for Buffy to lay herself open in this way, to her. And to make the offer for Faith to do the same, some sort of balance of shared vulnerability…
Mentally reeling, Faith deflected, attempting apathy or even irritation with her tone. Instead, her words came out soft, confused. She even heard a fucking catch in the middle of her sentence.
"Buffy…why are you here?"
Buffy paused, seeming to be considering the question, or maybe what words she would use in her answer. She spoke simply, but her reply sounded sincere.
"Because I think you get it. And no one else can. Even if they wanted to, or even if they saw. No one else can experience it, or feel it in the same way."
"Get what?" Faith asked, as much to continue the stalling and deflection as anything.
But she didn't need an explanation from Buffy to know. It was the nature, the very being of a Slayer and living out its lifestyle and the girl that it formed as a result, that Buffy was referring to. It was the depth of loneliness, no matter how many people surrounded you, the feeling of emptiness, of certainty that no one in the world could relate or understand. It was the sense of not being good enough, of needing to do more and do better, to prove something to the world and fight against every aspect of it that seemed unjust or wrong- and of knowing all along you could never, no matter how hard you tried, be enough to really fix its problems or save the most damaged of its people. It was the pain of failure and loss, knowing that it would always, forever be a part of your life, that your existence would be short and brutal and so full of hardship that it sometimes seemed pointless to continue. It was the paradox of always fighting for your life and simultaneously wishing for your death. It was the need for connection and comfort even as you pushed away everyone who ever tried to help or draw near, because you knew that any relationship with you was bound to be a death sentence.
She and Buffy were Slayers, and so no matter the surface differences, they had always been the same, deep into the core of their hearts. A part of Faith had always known this, even as she simultaneously believed with sincerity that Buffy was different, better than her, better than Faith could ever hope or wish to be.
But maybe Buffy had been through enough, or caused enough badness now for this to no longer quite be true. And maybe Buffy knew, now, that the differences between them had at least gone somewhat close to evening out.
"You get it," Buffy repeated, with slight more emphasis to the words. "You backed me up, that night that everyone went against me. When they put aside everything I had tried to do to teach them, all because of one terrible night, one mistake in judgment, and kicked me out of my own house. The house I owned. The house I had welcomed them all into, whether or not I had the space for it. My own friends, the people who had backed me up for years, pushed me out in a single night."
She took a breath in, released it slowly, still meeting Faith's eyes with hers.
"You challenged me, but you didn't attack me. Even after I had attacked you. You didn't ask to get elected leader, and you didn't ask me to step down or leave. You didn't want that, did you?"
Faith shook her head faintly, unsure if Buffy actually meant for her to respond. The question seemed as much for Buffy herself as it was towards Faith.
But it was true. She had never wanted Buffy to leave. Not that night, not ever. She had wanted, strove for years, to be equal to her, to be accepted as she believed Buffy always would be. But she had never wanted to be above her.
"You followed me outside, that night, when no one else did," Buffy continued steadily. "You wanted to know that I would be okay, even when I didn't show that kind of concern towards you, when you came back to help me. You didn't want me to leave, and you didn't want to take over, even when you thought I was wrong. You didn't want to lead…and you don't now, do you?"
Faith shook her head again, answering softly her this time.
"No, Buffy. I don't. I just want…I want to be useful. Part of the team, or if not that, wherever you need me most."
She didn't expect to stand shoulder to shoulder with Buffy, even if she wanted to. She didn't think she ever really could, even if she had earned the beginnings of respect and forgiveness. Even at seventeen, even before the craziness that had gone down on her side, she hadn't truly felt worthy, no matter her bravado to indicate otherwise, no matter how much she wanted it, of standing equal at her side.
Part of the team would have been enough, if they had truly made her feel that this were so. Part of the team would be enough now.
"You don't want to lead," Buffy repeated, as though to take in her own realizations, to drive them more fully into her understanding. "But you don't want to go your own way, either." She paused, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes shifted aside, before she released a small sigh, looking back at Faith.
"Maybe I don't either. Want to lead. But I've never liked to be alone."
Buffy wasn't alone, Faith felt an urge to point out to her. She never had been. As long as Faith had known her, she had had the love and support of countless friends, a father figure in Giles, boyfriends, a sister, and once upon a time, a devoted mother too. In comparison, Faith had had only Angel, with the sporadic visits and long distance support that, though providing her the strength to press on, had never been anything like a true family, and could not be counted on as a continuous fallback.
Still, she understood what Buffy was saying and could not deny that by Buffy's meaning, she was right. It was the very nature of their lives as Slayers to be alone, and to feel it with intensity in their heart.
Faith nodded jerkily, sudden tears, inexplicable to herself but urgent in their pressure building again behind her eyes. She fumbled for a second cigar, needing the act of smoking as a fast distraction, but when she opened her eyes again to be able to light it, the tears fell free.
Gritting her teeth, Faith attempted to ignore and therefore deny them as she raised her smoke to her lips, closing her eyes again and inhaling deeply. Buffy made no comments, apparently finished with yet another of her infamous speeches. But this one, for Buffy, had been fairly short, and noticeably lacking in the rousing calls to action that Faith had heard from her before.
Buffy was just standing with her, perhaps waiting, or perhaps simply being present with her, accepting of Faith in this particular moment in time. In fact, although Faith hadn't noticed how or when it had happened, she seemed to have moved closer to her, nearly shoulder to shoulder as Buffy too leaned back against the wall.
Maybe it was this unspoken but sensed feeling of acceptance, or maybe it was Buffy's proximity and the choice she had made to arrange it, but whatever it was seemed to give Faith permission, even if she couldn't give it to herself, to let tears continue to come. Buffy stayed beside her, not speaking, and little by little, Faith felt the faint pressure of the other woman's shoulder coming to lean, ever so slightly, into her own.
It was enough for her to compose herself, to feel that she would truly be able to face the others somewhat closer to "okay" than before. Buffy continued to wait as Faith finished her cigar, and then, with a final steadying breath, the two began to walk, still side by side, back to the hospital. Some hours later, when everyone had boarded the bus again, it did not escape Faith's notice that Buffy chose to sit beside her, nor that every so often, the other girl's shoulder lightly touched her own, lingering for several moments before she would pull back into her own space.