Tara thought she saw her life flash before her eyes when Faith took her into a firm hold, rushed the narrow window and jumped straight through it. She might have even shrieked when the Slayer twisted sharply in the air so that she would be able to absorb the landing impact for both of them which mercifully happened upon the roof of a car parked just underneath the window.
"There!" Tara ushered the slightly stunned Faith as their own car roared into life across the parking lot.
Faith was limping and grimacing as she hobbled after Tara who was waving wildly at a car that was approaching them at breakneck speed. Her dive through the security class had been purely instinctive as were the swift but determined attacks with which she had disabled the guards in the visitors' centre. A part of her had wanted to really inflict damage on them, up to and including lethal, but seeing Tara stand there with wide open eyes and hands over her mouth had stopped her. With a muttered curse she had made her decision and then escaped with Tara firmly in a protective hold.
The approaching car stopped briefly to let Tara into the back seat and then sped up again bringing it past Faith with the door swinging wildly on its hinges. So it was into an accelerating car that Faith dived headfirst, bringing her partly on Tara's lap.
"Grab your seats!" a young, male voice shouted urgently from the driver's seat as the car drifted around a corner, almost making Faith slide right out of the still open door. Only Tara's firm grab of her jumpsuit kept her in place.
It wasn't until they had made their way out of the prison area and merged dangerously into the traffic on the highway that the car achieved any kind of real stability.
"Great job," Faith snorted as she scrambled to a sitting position and pulled the door close. "Every state trooper will have a description of this rust bucket and its license plate number before we're out of the County."
"No, they won't," Tara replied, and to Faith's surprise she was actually beaming. "What they think they saw isn't anywhere close to how things truly appear."
Faith rolled her eyes in resignation with a huff as she was finally able to settle down on her seat next to the Witch. Then she took a long, shuddering breath. Her first one outside the joint in almost two-and-a-half years.
They drove on in silence for a few minutes until Faith noticed the driver throwing quick looks at her in the rear-view mirror. From what she could see in three-quarter rear profile made him somewhat younger than herself, maybe 16, with a mop-top haircut – and with the "cut" she was being generous.
"Who's the punk?" she asked idly.
"The 'punk' has a name," they boy snapped without looking back.
"His name is Connor," Tara made the introduction. "He's Angel's son."
"Angel's...?" Faith gaped once again. Things had really passed her by while she was locked in. "How'd that came to be?"
"No one's really sure," Tara supplied. "His mother is Darla, another vampire, who gave him birth about a year ago. He was then whisked away to an alternate dimension and just recently came back as the charming teenager currently driving us."
"That's fucked up," Faith blurted out before her inner censor could moderate her delivery.
"Doesn't take a fucking Slayer to tell me that," Connor shot back angrily. "Look, Tara," he addressed the Witch. "I've done my part. I'll get you to the next bus station. Then you're on your own."
"We talked about this on our way here," Tara said somewhat exasperatedly. "We need your help."
"Fine," Connor snapped after a few moments of quiet seething. "It's not that I'm really wanted back in L.A. anyway," he muttered almost inaudibly, but Faith's Slayer hearing picked it up, nonetheless. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be even just peripherally nice to the kid. If he really was Angel's, perhaps she was even obliged to.
"Sorry, Kid," she addressed Connor without the usual sarcasm. "And don't take offense at the 'Kid', yeah? I use nicknames, that's just my thing. Blondie here doesn't seem to mind."
"Not at all," Tara brushed the comment off airily. "I know you only give them to those you like."
It wasn't very often that Faith was rendered totally speechless.
Tara had brought a set of civilian clothes with them. Faith had only been able to mumble a sort of thanks as the other girl handed her a fresh-smelling bundle of clean garments, consisting of panties, sport bra, top, black jeans and a grey hoodie.
She had thrown the rear-view mirror a murderous gaze before Connor somewhat reluctantly re-aligned it so that it didn't show the backseat in the reflection. She had also given Tara a very measured look before going for the zipper of her jumpsuit which made the Witch roll her eyes and very theatrically squeeze them shut.
Faith was perhaps the farthest thing from a prude, but for some yet unfathomable reason, she wanted Tara to like her, not just her assets and what she was capable of offering. The fact that Tara obviously liked and most likely preferred girls over guys had not yet taken a firm root in her mind in all the recent chaos.
"Alrighty, you can open them," she announced once she had the zipper of the pants pulled up. "You wouldn't happen to have any chow with you, would you? I'm kinda starved, and you sorta whisked me away before dinner time. And to tell the truth, prison meals aren't really sufficient to satisfy Slayer metabolism."
"I seem to recall someone else doing most of the whisking," Tara winked at her. "But yeah, we do." She handed Faith a large paper back from Subway. "Two foot-long Supreme Meats, two bags of Doritos and two Cokes. Everything a growing Slayer needs."
"Wow," Faith breathed in awe. "Thanks, Blondie. Really. You just made a new friend."
"Then it was worth it," Tara responded in all seriousness as Faith ravenously attacked the first sub. "While you eat, I might just as well bring you up to date."
"Go," Faith mumbled with a nod, her mouth full of the delicious food. "Gotta admit I'm kinda curious."
Tara started her explanation with a brief summary of the events leading up to Buffy's death... Riley's addiction and subsequent departure, Glory, Dawn as the mystical Key, the illness and sudden death of Joyce.
"Mrs S is dead?" Faith blurted out in shock at the news of Joyce's demise. "How?"
"It was a brain tumour," Tara explained. "She had undergone a surgery, and they managed to completely remove it, but a burst aneurysm while she was recovering killed her."
"Damn," Faith muttered, trying to absorb this info. Despite everything that happened, she had always liked Buffy's mom. One of the very few people who had always treated her decently, she had managed to earn Faith's respect before everything turned to shit. Besides the way things had gone south with Buffy, the episode when she had punched and threatened Joyce was perhaps the one she regretted the most. And now there was no way she could ever make things right with her again.
Now, out of the three Summers women there was only one left – Dawn. Faith now remembered all to clearly the hurt and confusion in the little girl's eyes when she had tied her up in her bed before the body switch incident. Even though she had constantly whispered to Dawn that she wouldn't hurt her no matter what, the look of betrayal of trust in Dawn's teary eyes had cut deep.
And now she was on her way back to the scene of all her major crimes – those she had been punished for and those still pending. But whatever else would happen in Sunnydale after her return, one thing was absolutely clear to her. She would protect Dawn with her practically worthless life if it came to that.
"Thinking of Dawnie?" Tara asked softly, shaking Faith back to the here and now.
"Reading my mind now, Blondie?" Faith asked back with thinly veiled anger. "'Cos if you..."
"I wasn't, Faith. I swear that by the Goddess," Tara interrupted her sharply. "But your face might have just as well been an open book, so let me take an educated guess. You remembered the times you visited Revello Drive and how Mrs Summers always made you feel welcome. Then you thought of the body switch episode which naturally brought Dawn into the picture. She had always looked up to you, even through your 'evil' period, and then her idol shattered that image with one blow. Finally, you just made some kind of inner vow to try to mend things. Close?"
"Stop the fucking car, Kid!" Faith shouted, her anger no longer veiled. "I'm getting the fuck off."
"Faith...," Tara started.
"If you're going to say you're sorry, I'm going to leave you with a fucking black eye," Faith growled with her hands balled into fists. She had taken mandatory counselling sessions in prison and most of the time just parroted the expected responses. The shrink had gotten nowhere close to where the Witch beside her had short-cut with just a few sentences.
"I'm not going to say I'm sorry," Tara shot back, loudly but calmly. "And you can drop the tough girl attitude right there, Faith. You've already admitted to having regrets, so denying them now is just self-deception. You're allowed to have emotions – neither I nor Connor are going to think any less of you if you decide to show them when it's appropriate." Tara gave a long, shuddering sigh, and without really thinking laid a gentle hand on Faith's knee. "We need you, Faith, but I'm not going to coddle you just to save you from hurt feelings. You'll understand once you've heard the rest of the story and seen the situation for yourself. I'd also like to consider you as a friend, and friends should feel free to speak their mind to each other without a fear of repercussions. You're allowed to get angry or annoyed, but that doesn't mean we'll automatically just abandon you."
The car hadn't even slowed down throughout this altercation, and Faith decided not to press the issue further. But just to make her point, she crossed her arms over her chest and started sulking. She knew it was petty, but she still had to make the effort. She was also very much aware of the warm hand on her knee which, while staying completely still, managed to convey a feeling of trust and care.
Faith stayed still like a statue, stubbornly keeping her eyes straight ahead and her face stern. Her stoic façade slipped when the hand on her knee started suddenly shaking and she threw an immediate look to her travelling companion.
To her complete surprise Tara was doing her best to keep herself from bursting out in laughter.
"What?" she asked in all innocence.
That broke the dam and Tara almost collapsed in all-encompassing mirth.
"Oh, Goddess, that felt good," Tara managed to get out, still chuckling, after a minute of uncontrollable laughter. "Thank you, Faith. I haven't had a chance to really let myself go for a long time."
The hand on her knee slid briefly up her thigh and then squeezed lightly before withdrawing completely. To her surprise Faith missed the contact instantly.
"Hey, anytime you need help letting yourself go, just let me know," Faith quipped lightly but with a semi-serious undertone. That was her way to let Tara know she was still in.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Tara grinned slyly, still wiping her eyes and once again surprising Faith. Maybe going back to Sunnydale wasn't such a bad idea after all.
After the brief disagreement the rest of the drive to Sunnydale went more or less smoothly. Faith kept on silently munching on her meal while Tara briefed her in on the events post Buffy's death. They stopped once for a restroom break at a gas station but otherwise made the almost four-hour journey without stops.
To Faith Tara's recollection of the recent events in Sunnydale was nothing short of mind-boggling. She had a million questions which she filed for later, not wanting to interrupt the Witch's train of thought. There were numerous occasions where she just wanted to burst out with, "how the fuck could you let something like that happen?" but she was insightful enough to realise that bringing out her 20/20 hindsight wouldn't do them any good.
The final half-an-hour of the drive was spent in absolute silence by all participants. Connor kept his eyes firmly on the road as the almost palpable tension in the back seat gradually filled the whole interior. His earlier threat to leave Tara and Faith by the roadside had really been an empty one, and Tara had called him on it immediately.
The truth was that he was more than eager to get to Sunnydale, a place he had heard all those stories about. He wanted to make a name for himself fighting the dark creatures, and in L.A. it had proven to be almost impossible. He felt suffocated by his father's presence, and the fact that the rest of the A.I. crew had known him as an infant and then teenager within just a few days. More than often it was obvious they couldn't separate the two Connors on the sentimental level and get over the fact that he was perhaps the best fighter out of the whole bunch – excepting maybe Angel.
His father had told him in no uncertain terms to haul his ass back to L.A. immediately after his services were no longer needed. Well... you can't always get what you want.
He had all his earthly possessions safely stored in the trunk, and no-one would be missing the car any time soon.
The traffic slowed gradually down the closer they got to Sunnydale. After the last junction, no cars were seen either ahead of or following them. The opposite lane was also completely empty.
"We're here," Connor announced as the large welcome sign appeared into view after the final curve in the road. He slowed the car down and finally parked it on the shoulder twenty yards away from the sign.
Faith remembered all too well the excitement of seeing the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign through the bus window almost four years – a lifetime – ago. Then she had been on the run from Kakistos, having lost her first watcher – Diana – to the ancient vampire who had then vowed to avenge the loss of his eye in a way that would make Diana's gruesome demise look and feel pleasant. She had barely escaped that time and then sought the only help that she could think of. Buffy Summers, a Slayer like her. Back then just seeing the sign had given her the first feeling of relief since her narrow escape from Boston. Buffy, the greatest Slayer ever, as Dr Dormer had often described her. With her she had just known she would be safe.
That nostalgic sign was no longer there. In mute shock Faith stepped out of the car and approached the new and absolutely massive sign. Tara had told her everything, except this little detail. She was fairly sure the witch had wanted her to experience it first-hand, so that the reality would really sink in. She couldn't help feeling like Charlton Heston in the final scene of The Planet of the Apes.
It wasn't just the text that proudly proclaimed, "WELCOME TO HELLMOUTHLAND!" It was the accompanying image of two sultry, young women holding stakes in their hands and looking straight at her.
Buffy and herself.