Most of the day had been taken up with the practical matters of addressing logistics. The arrangements for Robin's body and being put to rest, getting more supplies that had not been covered with the first shopping trip, and discussions among the older members of the group in the general plan and direction of their endeavor. All of the surviving Potentials had been spoken with as to their intentions, after Faith had pointed out that some of them may very well want and have the option to be returned to their families. Of course, there were girls all over the country now who were now called into Slayer powers, most who would not only have no idea what had happened to them but might be frightened enough to become dangerous to themselves or others. It would be important for some or all of them to determine a way to contact and reach out to those girls, whether to explain to them, make arrangements for their training, or to find some means to neutralize the threat they could potentially cause. With the Watcher's council now officially history, it was possible that they, as a team, could build a new one, more focused on education, training, and outreach, than on the "watching and criticizing from afar" methods that it seemed most of the Watcher's Council had decided on.
That, of course, would mean renting or otherwise finding some establishment of headquarters, determining who would be involved and what role they would play, and how to go about locating the Slayers. Angel's hotel had been raised by Willow as a potential resting point, even possible temporary headquarters, given its size and location. Faith had expected Buffy to bristle at this suggestion, given how her last encounter with him in LA had gone, but Buffy had hardly seemed to be listening, let alone responding to the discussion. In the end, Giles had contacted Angel, and he had agreed that this could be arranged. After the cremation of Robin's body, the group would begin the journey to the hotel and start organizing what was needed to start anew and make more definite plans for their future.
Faith, like Buffy, had mostly listened, giving her input only when directly asked. Her thoughts were still occupied by the earlier conversation between herself and Buffy. Besides, she was willing to go along with whatever was decided, to be pointed in a direction where she'd fit. It wasn't like she had anywhere to go or anything to do that was any more pressing than the options being thrown out there for her.
They all ended up back at the motel later than expected- the conversation had gone on for quite some time, and then there had been the need for food somewhere suitable to occupy a large group mostly made up of young Slayers and their newly increased appetites and energy levels. By the time everyone had parted for the night and made their way back to their assigned motel rooms, Faith was itching for some time apart, to have room to breathe and be within her own space. Sometimes all that energy and earnestness could be exhausting to be around for long.
She let Buffy have the shower first as she had the day before, noticing again that Buffy didn't abuse the length of time she remained in it. Freshly dressed in the short sleeved t shirt and cotton shorts that had been purchased for her in the way of pajamas, Buffy emerged from the bathroom with slightly damp hair, indicating with a nod and an almost indecipherable word or two that Faith could now use the shower. Faith saw that Buffy's hair was a light brown at the roots and smiled to herself; she had always been certain the girl was a bottle blonde. Obviously, Buffy had either been far too busy or had stopped caring enough to touch up her hair dye.
Faith kind of liked that. The imperfection made Buffy seem more human; it was sort of endearing. Then again, it also kind of heightened the concern she had been steadily feeling towards her. Maintaining a carefully groomed exterior had always been important to Buffy, and if she was letting that lapse, that had to say something about what was going on inside her.
The stress of the day seemed to slowly seep out from her with the shower's water, steady against her skin. Faith closed her eyes as she let its spray run over her, taking her time. When she finally emerged, dressing in a tank top and boxer shorts that she suspected had been meant for Xander or Andrew but had taken for herself all the same, she saw that Buffy had already settled herself in bed beneath the covers, eyes closed, curling up on her side.
Faith made some effort to be quiet as she toweled her hair dry and readied herself to join her, dimming the light and settling beside her after brushing teeth. Wriggling into a comfortable position, she closed her eyes and concentrated on trying to clear her thoughts enough to sleep.
It was pretty obvious to her from Buffy's breathing that although the girl had her eyes closed and remained very still in the bed, she was nowhere close to sleep. She could feel the tension in Buffy's body radiating off of her, almost enough for Faith's own muscles to flinch with sympathy, and her breathing was too quick to indicate rest. She seemed to at least want Faith to believe that she was sleeping, though, so Faith figured she didn't want to talk.
Buffy surprised her when she spoke suddenly, less than five minutes after Faith had come to lay beside her.
"Angel told me that you tried to kill yourself."
Any sleepiness that Faith had managed to conjure up vanished immediately at those words. She sat up, her gestures abrupt, and stared down at Buffy, tensing up even as she tried to keep her response to her light in its tone.
"Yeah? Which time was he talking about in particular?"
"Both times," Buffy clarified. She rolled over onto her back, her head turned ever so slightly in Faith's direction. "After you woke up from the coma, and left Sunnydale. Right before I came after you. And just last week. When you went to help his friends."
Faith shrugged, delaying her response. There had been so little time in between Angel coming back from his Angelus state, Faith getting a ride with Willow back to Sunnydale, and the entire shitstorm that had gone down since that she couldn't imagine when he had the time to share her business with Buffy. Actually, she had been under the impression that Angel and Buffy spoke as little as possible, if at all.
Besides, what Buffy said wasn't totally accurate. Not exactly. She hadn't "tried to kill herself" the second time around, so much as she had been willing to die in sacrifice to bring Angel back. It wasn't so much the wanting death, as feeling that living was pretty damn hard, and the world would be better off with Angel in it than Faith, if it came down to a choice.
The first time around, that hadn't been a suicide attempt either, not when it came down to the semantics. Definitely she had wanted to die, but her intentions had been to force Angel's hand in making it happen. Maybe Faith was just too much of a pussy to go through with it on her own, or maybe Angel was right, and a tiny piece of her had always fought to live no matter what, to bring herself onto the good side no matter how much the darkness fought to take over.
Whatever, she was no shrink or philosopher. Point was, Angel had ran his big mouth about business she had thought to be pretty damn personal, and to Buffy, at that. She wasn't so sure how she felt about that, or how Buffy did, for that matter.
"Angel talks too much," she said finally, turning slightly on one shoulder to face Buffy, but she focused her eyes on her shoulder rather than her face. "He got the gist of it, but missed some key details. More or less though, yeah, he's right. Mostly."
Buffy didn't ask her to further explain. Maybe Faith's confirmation of her statement, and of Angel's confiding the information that had apparently not been so confidential, was enough for her without more details.
"Why did you do it?" she asked. "What made you go through with deciding to die?"
Faith listened for judgment or accusation in her tone, but there was none, only an intensity that Faith could not quite label. Concern, maybe, or was it some sort of need, a desire to understand…or to find common ground?
The back of Faith's neck prickled at this thought, and cold dread gripped itself around her heart. This wasn't the first time that Buffy had hinted around at something she was feeling or seeking out, something dark enough to scare her in its familiarity with what she herself had once felt and sought out.
Faith didn't bother to try to keep her voice or expression calm. Sitting up, she stared down at Buffy directly now, hearing herself speaking more loudly than before but not giving a damn if it would start something or rub Buffy wrong. She wanted to rub Buffy wrong. At least a pissed off Buffy would be a Buffy who was fighting back, a Buffy who gave a damn about something in her life.
"Where the hell is this coming from, Buffy? What are you trying to ask here, or trying to say?"
Buffy sat up with her, much more slowly, and angled herself in a position to face her. There was no stiffness of anger or defensiveness in her posture, no proud angle of her chin, and that alone scared Faith.
"I want to hear about it, Faith. I want to know what you were going through. You don't have to tell me, but…I would like to know. Not from Angel. He isn't you, he might think he gets you, but he wasn't in your head or your body, so he can only understand so much. I want to hear from you."
Faith remained on guard, staring back at the other girl in an effort to read between the lines of her words, her near total lack of gestures. When Buffy remained still, meeting her gaze steadily, Faith exhaled. This seemed important to Buffy. She truly did seem to want to know. Whether for her own purposes, or to understand Faith, she couldn't be sure, but maybe it didn't matter. Maybe there had to be a point where Faith made the leap to trust, in the same way that Buffy had crossed some of her inner guards to trust her.
"Well, last time, I didn't really want to die," Faith said slowly, her first few words coming out along with an exhale out. "I just wanted to get Angel back, and if that meant I had to say sayanara, well, I had to do what I had to do. I'd rather me be the one to go than anyone else, if someone had to peace out on life to get the job done. I wasn't suicidal, if that's what he said. More like, if dying was going to happen, I was cool with it. Shit gets hard, you know? I guess I thought…it would be a good thing, if I went out knowing that I was doing something good in the process. Like…it would mean I really had gotten that redemption shit in the end."
She paused, checking Buffy's response. When the girl remained still, seeming to be listening, showing openness to hearing more, she went on.
"It seemed like the easy thing to do. Like it would make things better, and I'd make up for everything by going out saving someone else. Someone better."
"So…you were making a trade," Buffy paraphrased, tilting her head slightly, as though to toss the idea around in her thoughts. "Angel's life, for yours."
"Yeah, seemed like a good deal at the time," Faith nodded, her shoulders lifting up and down in a slight shrug. "Still does, to be honest. Can't say I wouldn't do it again if the decision was there. But you know Angel. He's not letting anyone go without a fight."
A ghost of a smile curved Buffy's lips, but Faith was somewhat relieved to see that it seemed to be genuine. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Buffy smile without forcing it, at least in the past few days.
"Nope, has to be the hero. One of these days, he should get a cape and a mask."
"Oh, I bet he has the entire Batman costume in is closet somewhere," Faith snickered, letting a grin break forth. "Spandex and all. But since he's Angel, he probably attaches wings somewhere on the back."
Buffy's smile widened, just enough that Faith saw a brief glimpse of teeth. It was far too short a period before her mouth straightened out again.
"What about the other time? The first time?"
Faith eyed her, not failing to notice that Buffy was leaning towards her slightly, shifting herself in such a way that the bony ball of her knee cap nearly touched Faith's. Buffy didn't just feel idle curiosity or even concern, Faith was suddenly certain. She didn't just want an answer to her questions…. Faith was certain now that Buffy was asking because she needed her answers.
"I was in a different place then," she said finally, watchful of any small shift in Buffy's eyes. "A dark place. I had killed people, and that…it takes chunks out of you, and then it adds things that stick like…some sort of grime, or filth. Something you can't get off you, no matter what you do to try. I'd…I'd done a lot of things, really shitty things, and I knew it. I…I knew what I'd become, what I was then, and I hated it. Hated me. I guess it just seemed hopeless. I didn't want to be who I was, or where I was with life, and there didn't seem any point in trying to be better, or like there was even a possibility I could do it."
She paused, noting Buffy's breath seeming to quicken, and softened her voice, her eyes bearing hard into the other girls as she concluded. "I felt like everything would be better if I just wasn't there to make it worse. Like I needed to pay, and that was the only payment option out there for me. That was why I did what I did."
She narrowed her eyes, shifting back a little so she was sitting atop her heels.
"Now…look, Buffy, you've asked a hell of a lot of questions and they're pretty damn personal. They're not shit I'd say to just anybody…but you're not just anybody, okay? So I answered, because you asked. And I guess I owe you that much, to answer things you want to know. But now I'm gonna need you to answer something for me, and answer it straight. Why are you asking me these things? Really. Because what you've giving off right now, it's not vibes I'm liking."
Ten seconds felt like more than enough time for Buffy to come up with some sort of answer. When Faith didn't get one, her heart lurched, her fears magnified. She took hold of Buffy's shoulders abruptly, feeling the fragile angles of prominent bones beneath, and gripped her, forcing her to look her straight on.
"No, you don't get to push this away. I'm asking you a question and I need an answer, Buffy. Yesterday, you were talking about being dead. Before that, you were talking about being able to "stop." Today, you're talking suicide. I might be slow, but I can draw a straight fucking line. Are you thinking about killing yourself?"
Buffy's lips thinned, and Faith saw the slight pulse of her throat as she swallowed. She didn't trying to move out from under her hands, though. If anything, Faith thought that she was leaning, almost curving herself into her touch.
"I'm not going to kill myself, Faith," she said finally, her voice dry, lacking life or force. It wasn't near enough to serve to lower Faith's anxiety. "Not without there being a purpose for it, something that would serve a higher cause. I'm not that selfish."
She wasn't finished, though. Faith could tell there was more she was holding back, could feel it in the tension of her shoulders and see it in the bruised look of her eyes. She waited, gentling her touch, until Buffy continued.
"It just seems…it's so hard, and so pointless, sometimes. To keep fighting so hard for a battle that never ends. To always be on guard, and for every victory, there are so many more fights left to come. So many people who are lost along the way. And it's…it seems like such a struggle just to stay alive, and I start to wonder, why? Why do I keep on, why do I survive, when so many don't? I'm no better than any of them. I was just given more. I didn't fight for my abilities. I didn't even want them. But now they're me. I don't know what I'd do without them, and I don't know if I could even be in a situation where I needed them without using them, because that's me now. That's what I do."
She swallowed again, a slight choked noise escaping her throat, and Faith saw tears rise up and then disappear out of sight from her eyes. Buffy looked back at her, seeming to try to see Faith in the same way that Faith was trying to see into her- or maybe just trying to give Faith the answers of herself that Faith was seeking.
"I can't even die without coming back again. Is it so hard to believe that I want to be able to have peace? I just want to rest, Faith. I want to be able to take a breath and have it all stop. I want…I want…"
Her words trailed away, and she uttered a suppressed sobbing noise that Faith heard, despite her efforts to push it down. Clearly Buffy was struggling, her skin growing mottled and taut with her efforts of forcing back strong emotion. Seeing her fighting so hard for control, just as Buffy herself had described how she fought for everything else in her life, Faith felt a surge of empathy flood through her.
Without further thought on what she was doing or saying, acting on instinct alone, Faith reached up and cupped Buffy's face in her hand. She stroked the line of her cheekbone with her thumb, seeing Buffy's eyes close in response, her eyelids creased in the center. She didn't pull back or protest Faith's touch, so Faith didn't pull away. Her other hand slid from Buffy's shoulder to the space in between her shoulder blades, and she rested her palm flat, in unconscious effort to monitor the speed of Buffy's breaths and the beating of her heart.
"People are alive today because of you," she said to her, quietly but with feeling, her gaze unwavering on Buffy's face, even as Buffy's eyes remained closed. "People have hope for their future, people believe in good in the world and that they stand a chance at winning out against it, because of you. People feel like the world is worth fighting for, because of you. Buffy, the world is literally still in existence, multiple times over, because of you. And you're telling me…what are you telling me, Buffy? That you wish you weren't in the world you just saved? Because if you felt that way, you could have saved us all a lot of time and effort and just let the apocalypse run its course."
Buffy exhaled, her breath ragged under Faith's hands, and shook her head faintly, but her eyes still did not open.
"Faith," she said, no real strength to the word, and Faith shook her head with vehemence, overpowering her in gesture and tone.
"No! No, Buffy! Are you saying that it's easier to just let everyone down, people who need you, who depend on you? Are you saying you would let the people who love you suffer, that you could be okay with knowing how much we wanted and missed you? You could live knowing how much we hurt, how much we were suffering? You would just go and leave us when we fucking love you, when we would kill or die for you without a second thought?"
Buffy's eyes snapped open, wide with startled confusion, and for a few seconds Faith couldn't understand what it was that she had said to cause her reaction. Then it hit her. How many times in her impulsive little rant had she said the words we, us, including herself in the people she was talking about? And how obvious had it been, with her passion of her words, that this hadn't been misspoken, that she had included herself because she was describing her own feelings?
"Them," she said hastily, far too late, far too unconvincingly. "Hurting them. You know how much they hurt the last time, and you, you would still hurt them again."
But Buffy was clearly ignoring her effort to cover up her words. She stared at Faith, seeming to be seeing her now in a different light than before, as if Faith had suddenly changed form before her eyes.
"You're shaking, Faith," Buffy said softly.
She inclined her head towards Faith's hand, still gripping her shoulder, and Faith saw when she followed her gaze that she was right. Her arm was visibly trembling, her fingers loosened by this against Buffy. Probably Buffy had felt the unsteadiness of her hands long before she voiced it.
Mortified, Faith snatched both hands back to herself abruptly, deliberately shifting herself to put extra space between herself and Buffy. She clinched her fists at her sides, willing herself to go still, forcing her body to obey her resolve to shut down.
"Yeah, well, I might be, but I'm not fucking dying," she said roughly, trying to force the focus back to Buffy. "And I'm not fantasizing about it like some kind of sick daydream. So let's get back on topic here. Spotlights back to you, B."
But Buffy ignored the gruffness of her words and tone, just as she had ignored her attempts at backpedaling in her use of pronouns. She continued to regard her, her features shifting into an expression that was softer and far less flat in its affect. After several moments that for Faith, felt uncomfortably long and uneasy, Buffy reached out to her, slowly covering the back of Faith's hand with her own.
"I heard what you said before, Faith."
Faith held herself motionless, her chest tight with anxiety at Buffy's unexpected initiating of touch. Her mind fumbled for some kind of reply, but came up with nothing as she felt Buffy's slim fingers carefully entwine into her own. As Faith's stiff hand eased into the position that Buffy manipulated it into, Faith's heart beat a rapid, sickening staccato against her ribcage, and she felt naked, far too transparent in her thoughts and emotions against the continued steadiness of Buffy's eyes on hers.
What was Buffy doing right now? What was she thinking, what was she expecting or wanting out of Faith? What was it that Faith herself wanted? What was happening between them in this very moment, and what did it mean?
None of this came out her mouth or even came close to forming words on her tongue. She stayed still as Buffy's free hand lifted up, her fingertips tracing the outline of Faith's cheek in what could only be described as a caress. Faith's breathing stopped, holding tight in her throat as Buffy leaned in, kissing her cheek in a gesture as brief and soft as a breath of its own. Faith was only able to exhale when Buffy lay back in bed, lightly tugging at Faith's hand in unspoken request for her to follow. She hesitated, then slowly lay back beside her, her fingers still tangled in Buffy's grasp.
Buffy didn't say anything else, and Faith still felt unable to summon any words herself. They lay together, close enough for their hips and shoulders to touch, hands clasped, and Faith was very much aware of the rhythm of Buffy's breaths, beginning to fall in time with her own as their breathing and heart rates gradually slowed into more normal rhythms. Buffy fell asleep before Faith; she could feel it in the loosening of her grasp, the increased warmth and relaxation of Buffy's skin against hers. Nevertheless, in the morning, when Faith stirred awake, she found that their hands had not lost contact through the entirety of the night.
They didn't talk about the night before. But there was a noticeably looser stance to the way that Buffy held herself, and when she sat up, she didn't immediately pull her hand away. Instead, she looked over at Faith and smiled, the gesture small and brief, but genuine, her hazel eyes soft. And when she pulled away, turning to prepare herself for the day, Faith watched her and saw that her shoulders were straighter, her head held up, and even her footsteps seemed lighter and quicker in stride.
There was little verbally exchanged between them, but the difference in mood between them was clear. Faith felt a crackle of unspoken connection, thick and near electric with energy pulsing in the air, and it was difficult to keep herself from instinctively drawing forward, keeping her body close to Buffy's.
When they boarded the bus with the others, setting out for their next destination, Buffy kept just behind Faith and slid into the seat she chose without saying anything about her second decision to do so in two days' time. Buffy shifted herself close enough that their legs touched, and when Faith tried to move herself closer to the window, to give Buffy the opportunity to claim her own space if the other woman desired it, Buffy spread her legs open just enough that her leg brushed Faith's again, a warm, solid pressure against her. The gesture was obviously deliberate, just as Buffy had reached out to her, the night before.
The muscle in Faith's thigh twitched, and she took a breath in and let it out, trying to calm the surge of anxious, desperate emotion rising up her throat and flooding her face with heat. She clinched a fist unconsciously against her knee, nails biting into the palm of her hand, but a small, cool hand covered over her taut fingers, wrapping with light but firm pressure against them.
Faith held her breath, intent, watchful, as Buffy slowly worked her fist free and laced her fingers through hers. The other woman held on, resting their joined hands in the slight dip of space between their lightly touching thighs, and looked straight ahead, her breathing slow, deliberate, if not quite relaxed.
Faith could not be sure what was going on between them, or what Buffy was thinking or feeling. She had no idea why now, of all times, Buffy had started to let down her solid inner walls, to begin for the first time to let Faith, and maybe only Faith, peek behind them.
All she could truly know was the strangely comforting, soothing feeling of Buffy's fingers in hers, the uncertainty of where Buffy's skin and hers were separate and belonging only to themselves. She could feel the calm beginning to sweep over the energy between them, the slow relaxation of Buffy's body near hers, and the way her body began to unconsciously mirror the other woman's easing of tension, something close to a fragile peace settling in her mind and heart.
When Buffy's head gradually drifted over to rest against Faith's shoulder, Faith took in the weight of her head, the scent of Buffy's hair close to her nose, and breathed in, her free hand drifting up cautiously to brush back a strand of the girl's hair. After several seconds, she dared to press her lips lightly against the top of Buffy's head- a returning gesture of the night before. Although Buffy's eyes were closed, Faith could tell she was not asleep. She seemed to be soaking up the calm shared between them, perhaps finding as much comfort in their physical closeness as Faith herself was beginning to experience.
Faith held herself still for the first several minutes of Buffy's shift closer, fearful of disrupting the energy they carried together in the moment. She fought against the old inner voice urging her to pull back, to put up all the shields and protective defenses she had put around her emotions, around her heart, for so long, to let herself finally truly risk the damage that could be done by easing vigilance and giving trust. They were slow in peeling back, but gradually she relaxed, mentally as well as physically.
She still wanted to know what Buffy was doing, what she intended, what thoughts, if any, were running through the girl's mind. She wanted to know when or if this would stop, if Buffy would change her mind or come to realize that none of this was worth her effort or time- that she, Faith, was not worth the effort or time to trust or turn to, for anything or anyone, especially Buffy Summers.
She wanted to tell Buffy to pull back, to go back to the normal and familiar, the expected. She wanted to freeze this moment forever, to beg her not to move, not to hurt her, not to leave, even as she tried to force herself to prepare for the inevitable.
But Buffy stayed. She stayed, hand in Faith's, body warm and soft against her side, and slowly, slowly, Faith let herself begin to feel what had always crushed her in her past, what had always brought disappointment, what had never lead to an ending she could count on and find peace in.
Faith Lehane, for the first time in years, allowed herself to hope.
End