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Everything Is Different Now	By : Declan Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Buffy/Faith Views: 7516 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer Television Series. Joss Whedon does. This is done for simple fun, I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Goodbye To What You Knew: Part 1 (Mommy Issues)

Faith smiled as she watched Joyce fall limply to the floor, the older woman’s face a mask of disbelief until it softened slowly into unconsciousness. Tranq darts will do that to a woman, especially when they’re designed to take out things a lot nastier than suburban mom-types.
Still, fast and quiet was best; a person never knew who was peeping through their window in a neighbourhood like this. Faith had been waiting across the street since dawn, unseen in the shadows as she squatted between two hedges. And as soon as she’d seen Joyce, Faith had stepped out and started walking. Crossing the street, casual as anything, Joycey never even looked up from her paper.
‘Guess in Sunnydale they worry more about night-time creeps instead of daylight home invasions.’
Feeling pretty pleased with herself, Faith stepped over Joyce’s body and glanced out of a couple of the windows, seeing if in fact there were any twitchy neighbourhood types. But nope, not many cars in driveways, a lot of people were getting an early start to work – which reminded Faith, Joyce had better call in sick soon, she was gonna be having a nice day off.
‘We’ll call it ‘Hostage Day’’.
Faith smiled at that before making her way over to the older woman, grabbing her by her arm and her dressing gown, and effortlessly picked her up. Carrying her limp form in her arms, Faith heaved the woman upstairs and into her bedroom, placing Joyce down on her still rumpled bed.
Faith left her there; the darts were powerful enough to leave somebody doped up for a good few hours. Even so, Faith took the time to disable the phone by the bed; she wouldn’t want Joyce to get any bright ideas about calling the cops.
Job done, Faith headed back downstairs to the kitchen, smiling at the small thrill she got from walking around somebody else’s place like she owned it, poking in their private things, going through their stuff.
The kitchen was rich with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, but Faith didn’t take any. The stuff always smelled way better than it tasted to her. Instead she opened the fridge and poked her head in; milk, orange juice, lots of diet soda. Maybe it had been bought for Buffy but it hadn’t been touched. Faith opened up the pack, grabbed a can and shut the door.
Casting her eyes over the kitchen, Faith saw that the sideboard next to the wall phone had an address book on it. She flicked through it, absently sipping on her coke as she did so. She saw numbers for relatives, pizza delivery, UC Sunnydale – she got to a number for the gallery and a name next it. Somebody named Irene. Bingo.
Faith cradled the phone and, dialling the number, put on her best ‘sick’ voice.
There was a click at the other end and a female voice. “Hello?”
Faith wheezed a little and then spoke up. “Hi, is that Irene? This is Buffy.”
The voice on the end was unsure. “Buffy? Oh, you must be Joyce’s daughter.”
Faith found herself smiling. “That’s me. Listen, sorry to drop this on you, but Mom and I have caught some kind of majorly grotty virus. We’re, like, totally sick” Faith said, trying capture Buffy’s natural Valley Girl essence, but it wasn’t easy.
“Oh, Joyce is poorly? That’s just terrible.” There was a moment of hesitation, “What should I do?”
And Faith was worried about fooling this woman. “Oh, Joyce thinks it’s just a twenty-four hour deal, so she’ll be in tomorrow, for sure.” Faith faked a harsh cough, “So why don’t you take the day y’know? Well, that’s what Mom says to do.”
Irene sounded surprised, but pleased. “Really? Joyce said that? Well, okay.” Another pause, “I don’t want to be getting into trouble though…”
“Don’t sweat it. You’re golden”, Faith replied smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to make soup for my Mom and then tuck her up in bed, ‘cause I’m the bestest daughter in the whole world.”
With that Faith hung up and sighed. That job done, she decided to kill the next hour or so making herself a mega snack for breakfast. Sleeping rough hadn’t been as easy as she’d remembered and she was starved.
‘Getting soft there Faith. Gotta watch that. Still, cash is gonna make things a hell of a lot easier after I finish up here.’
Rooting through the fridge she quickly found eggs, bacon and waffles, cheese and bread. Faith got out a pan and went about making the biggest damn omelette she could manage. She grilled some bacon, toasted the waffles, and then added some cheese to the omelette to make it all rich and gooey.
As she sat down to eat her cheesy concoction, she wondered when Buffy would turn up. College was college, but this was her house after all, and a ‘dutiful daughter’ would surely come by to check up on her flesh and blood, wouldn’t she?
Faith was banking on it, but she’d been a little surprised that Buffy wasn’t here already, waiting for a smack down-drag out fight with her sister-slayer.
Maybe Faith wasn’t the only one that had been forgotten.
After polishing off all her food, Faith grabbed the dart gun from the sideboard and walked back through the house. It was big, bright, clean and warm, safely nestled right in the heart of suburbia, and all the while Faith had been stuck in a crappy motel with a broken down shower and noisy neighbours screwing at all hours.
Some chosen ones get all the luck.
Faith shook the bitter thought away as she headed towards Buffy’s room. Digging into Buffy’s inner sanctum should be fun way to pass the time. The couple of times Faith had been in there all she could remember was pink and white everywhere, lotta stuffed toys, and loads of girlie hair, skin and nail products.
Faith predicted that on closer inspection she’d find more of the same, plus lots of virginal white underwear and a handbook on how to a be a tight-assed moralising bitch.
She checked in on Joyce first, jabbing her hard in the ribs just to check that she wasn’t playing possum. But she didn’t react, just kept snoozing away, so Faith left her alone.
And Buffy’s bedroom was all exactly how Faith remembered it; minus some wall posters and that googly eyed stuffed pig that had clearly joined Buffy on her college adventure.
She was wrong about the underwear though: the top of the chest of drawers was empty apart from a couple of pairs of pyjamas.
Most of the other drawers were filled with old clothes, some stuff Faith recognised from the various times they’d been patrolling together, plus some really girlie things that Buffy obviously didn’t like to wear anymore because she‘d finally realised that she wasn’t, like, twelve.
Nothing much else here though. Obviously Buffy didn’t do overnight stays that much, not with this selection. Faith closed the last drawer and went over to the closet, opened it up.
And found her stuff.
‘What the..?’
A big cardboard box lying on the floor of the closet, filled with Faith’s tops, shirts, jeans, leather pants. A lot of her stuff from last year was sitting here gathering dust. Faith squatted and pulled out the box and saw it wasn’t just filled with her clothes – B had even taken her spare boots and her crappy walkman.
And her bow.
Propped up against the back of the wall was her bow, the sweet one she’d made good use of last year, offing scum both human and vamp alike...well, almost. And Buffy had taken it all for herself, not to wear, obviously, but as what, mementoes maybe? Trophies? Things to sell off the next time she had a fucking yard sale?
‘Bitch.’
For all Faith knew Buffy had her friggin’ knife mounted up on a wall somewhere, with a little plaque telling people where she got; how she stepped over the body of a dying slayer to claim it.
Hell, maybe Joyce has it in pride of place somewhere in the house, bloodstained and everything. A gift from her darling daughter.
Faith had been wrong, Buffy hadn’t forgotten about her, not at all. She probably liked to remind herself of what she did to Faith. Got a real kick out it.
Faith thought back to the mansion, Buffy’s words of regret, her sorrowful tone, and her big, sad eyes that seemed to look right into Faith, like she knew what she was feeling.
Faith shook her head. Quite an act, everything considered.
“Bitch.” Faith muttered and tossed the box and all her other stuff up on the bed.
She’d happily take it all with her when she’d finished beating the tar out of B and leaving her trussed up for the Initiative mopes.
All Faith had to do now was wait a while and give Buffy the biggest reminder of all about what she was really capable of.

*~~*

Buffy frowned in mild annoyance as Pepe Le Pew tried unsuccessfully to seduce a cat. Come to think of it, that didn’t really scream ‘suitable cartoon material’ in Buffy’s mind. More, ‘weird Internet fetish’.
She sighed as the scene played out on the television. “I’m pretty sure I met this guy in high school.”
Anya looked interested. “A talking French skunk? Was it demonic in some way? Did you have to slay it?”
“I think she’s referring to his seduction technique.” Willow clarified gently. She seemed pretty amused by the TV.
Anya turned her head to look thoughtfully at the television. “He does seem very forthright in his advances. But some people like that. Xander for example – “
Buffy interrupted another possible ‘TMI’ moment from Anya. “Uh, could we watch something else? I’m not really feeling the fun here.”
Willow stuck out her bottom lip. “It’s either this or Marvin the Martian.”
Anya’s forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “Does he ever manage to kill that sinister rabbit?”
Willow shook her head tiredly. “Nope.”
“Well then –”
Just then, Giles stepped blearily through the curtain of hung blankets that hung behind the television, and turned it off. “Must we have the noise? My head is splitting.” He sounded like he’d gotten less sleep than Buffy.
A small smile played across Willow’s mouth. “Well, look who’s a cranky bear in the morning”, she teased.
Giles reply was dryly sardonic. “Yes, I can’t imagine why I didn’t sleep well in my beachball.”
“Every time you moved it made squeaky noises,” Anya complained, adding, “it was irritating.”
“Really? I’m surprised you could hear it over your Wagnerian snoring.”
This wasn’t really the way Buffy wanted to start the morning. “Okay you guys, could we not, please? Everything’s screwed up enough without you two doing scenes from my parents’ marriage.”
Anya and Giles looked at each other sheepishly. “Sorry”, Anya muttered.
Giles ran a tired hand through his hair. “Yes, I’m sorry too.” He looked at Buffy, “How did everything go last night? You didn’t wake me so I assume...”
At least Buffy could bring up some good news. She nodded. “Curious the demon? Killed it dead. Well, deader anyway, it was pretty rank as demons go. But I managed to get it in the woods when it ran into a squad of Initiative guys.”
Giles frowned at the news. “So, ah, they saw you then. That was unfortunate.”
“Couldn’t be helped, goat-boy had already done some major damage by the time I got there, so I couldn’t wait for subtle.” Buffy shrugged unhappily, “Besides, Riley was there too.”
Giles frowned as he remembered something. “Did you, ah, burn the remains afterwards?”
Buffy smirked slightly. “Well, Riley and I didn’t have any smores so...Plus, forest fires; bad for all of us, and bad for America.”
Giles gave a small smile. “All I meant was... I’m sure I read somewhere that it was best way to dispose of the remnants of Kurenos.”
Buffy shrugged lightly. “He’s dead Giles. Believe me; I turned him into itty bitty demon chunks.” Buffy reviewed her last statement somewhat sadly, “I’ve been doing that way too much lately.”
Giles seemed to let it rest at that. “No matter. Still, now Riley must be relieved to know that you’re alive and well, that’s something.”
Buffy heaved a sigh. “A big something. We got into a long conversation, heavy on the awkward. Y’know how it is, comparing and contrasting murderers we know. Faith got points because she has actually killed before, but Walsh was way ahead on premeditation and deviousness.” Buffy put some fake pep in her voice. “It was all very exciting. And that was before Spike showed up.”
Giles nodded in understanding. “Yes. That must have been, on top of everything else...well, poorly timed certainly”, he finished awkwardly.
Willow looked over at Buffy. “It’ll be okay Buffy. Riley’s just confused that’s all.”
Buffy shifted under her blanket, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know. Seems like things could get heavier. I mean his whole world’s falling apart.” She sighed and propped her chin on her knee, thinking not just about Riley but about Faith, “It’s just one huge mess is what it is.”
Sensing that the conversation was moving away from slaying matters, Giles quietly excused himself and moved back behind the screen.
Anya looked at Buffy sympathetically. “And after all that stuff you went through with Angel...” Then she brightened, “You know you really should get yourself a boring boyfriend, like Xander.” She paused then added, “You can’t have Xander.”
Buffy sighed wistfully. “Well Riley was supposed to be Mr. Normal Joe guy. Somebody I could start to... move on with. That was his appeal. We were supposed to do dumb stuff like hold hands through the daisies going tra-la-la...”
Willow pouted in concern. “Poor Buffy, your life resists all things average.”
Buffy blew out a breath. “You’re telling me. This is the third, I-I mean second time of trying. It always ends up going wrong somehow.”
Anya tried to cheer her up. “So dump him already.” Then added seriously, “But you can’t have Xander.”
Buffy nodded solemnly. “I’ll try and remember that. Besides, I can’t just quit when the going gets tough. I have to make it work.”
Willow smiled encouragingly. “I bet you will.”
Buffy put some determination into her voice. “No. No bet. I will make it work.” She paused, “Okay that may have come out a tad more.... insane than I wanted it to.”
Any reply was interrupted by Xander hurrying down the stairs, a tray full of breakfast-y items in his hands. He gestured urgently. “Turn on the TV. Now.”
Willow leaned over and turned on the television as Xander put the tray down. Giles came back through the curtain, toothbrush in hand, drawn by the activity.
Buffy frowned in puzzlement as the screen sprang to life. It was the news.
“...the victim was a homeless man known by locals to frequent the area around the park. A source in the Coroner’s office tells us that the man was stabbed with looks like some kind of large skewer, and his body was then horribly mutilated. Police have not named a suspect, and the killer is still at large...”
Buffy had heard enough, with a sinking realisation she said. “The Polgara demon had a skewer on its arm. That was the one that Maggie specifically wanted us to bring back alive.”
The others looked grimly at each other. Giles spoke up. “Then she must have sent it after you.”
“And it got distracted.” Buffy shook her head, she’d been so close to that park last night, but she’d run off chasing a phantom woman, and now somebody else was dead. “God...”
Willow shook her head. “Buffy, it’s not your fault. How could you know?
Giles agreed, his voice tinged with concern. “She’s right, you mustn’t blame yourself.”
Buffy felt tired, she felt sore, but mainly she felt angry about reacting all the time to things, about not making any progress. That was gonna change.
She put some steel into her voice. “I’m not going to”, she said resolutely as she stood, tossing her blanket to one side. “I’m going to the crime scene to see what I can find out. You guys research the Polgara demon; I wanna know where it is. I’m going to stop it before it has a chance to hurt anybody else. Stop it in an inventively painful way.”
Buffy looked at each of them in turn, hoping to somehow transfer some of her own determination to them. Then she noticed how Willow and Anya’s faces faltered into smiles and Buffy looked down at herself in realisation.
“That probably would’ve sounded more commanding if I wasn’t still wearing my yummy sushi pyjamas”, she pouted.

*~~*

Riley was still confused as he made his way through the dorm.
He’d been walking around campus all night, his mind running over what Professor Walsh had said, then what Buffy had said – what she’d claimed. Riley was still bleary about what he should do next, and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping things either. He needed to talk to the Professor, not about Buffy, but about 314; about the other slayer, about... all the questions he had.
Suddenly Forrest was by his side as they walked up the stairs. “Hey man, where the hell were you? Beta Team got into a scrape last night, took some hits, and they said that you were there at the scene? What went down?”
Riley wiped at his face tiredly. ”The hostile’s neutralised, Forrest. Buffy took care of it.”
“Buffy”, Forrest stated flatly, “I guess that explains where you been the rest of the night, huh? You two getting past the shy phase is one thing, but Gibson and Wolkowski got tanked last night brother, some of us were worried –”
Riley frowned, interrupting sharply: “I wasn’t with Buffy. I was alone, I needed to, I don’t know, think some things through.”
Forrest raised his eyebrows at that. “Yeah, what things?”
Riley considered his friend, Forrest wasn’t exactly a slayer fan, at least not lately, but Riley needed somebody to sound out some things on before he went to Walsh.
Riley looked up and down the hallway carefully and then, gesturing to his room, opened the door and closed it after Forrest followed him in.
Forrest made a ‘spooky’ gesture with his hands. “This is mighty ominous. What’s up man?”
Riley turned away, absently scratching at his hand, thinking about how to phrase his question. “Did Walsh tell anybody about what happened to Buffy? Anything about sending her out on a mission?”
Forrest though for a moment. “Nope. Nothing. Why?”
Riley rubbed his chin. “Anything about two HSTs breaking out of the pens, night before last?”
“No... Wait a sec, yeah there was. A team was redeployed for some cleanup assignment the other day. I would’ve been leading but, well, we’re all still pretty much benched because of that other slayer, y’know. Plus the Professor’s been busy putting her through her paces.”
This was the first Riley had heard of this. “What?”
Forrest’s tone was sour. “Word is, ‘Faith’ got the full Initiative tour, just like Buffy did. Supposed to be working with her now, too, I guess.”
Riley wrinkled his forehead. Buffy had been so sure that Faith was in danger from Walsh; maybe she was wrong about the other things too. “Buffy said that Faith was in danger from the Professor, and she said that the Professor set her up, tried to kill her.”
Forrest looked incredulous. “She said what?” He paused, his scepticism evident. “Does Buffy have any proof?”
Riley shook his head. “Not that she showed me, but I’m not sure why she’d lie about it.”
Forrest shrugged. “I don’t know, man. There’s always been something off about her, always asking her questions.”
Riley had heard this before and ignored his rising irritation. “Buffy thinks that she was getting close to something, that the Professor has some kind of secret –”
Forrest smirked bitterly. “Is that right? Buffy’s got a theory.” Forrest pointed at him, “And now she’s using you to get answers for her. And you’re falling for it.” He shook his head sadly.
Riley felt a flush of anger. “I’m not falling for anything here. I’m just figuring things out, that’s all.”
Forrest snorted derisively. “What’s to figure out? Buffy’s trying to spin your head; she’s got some freak agenda –”
Riley started forward, jabbing a finger at Forrest’s chest. “That’s enough!”
The door opened and Graham entered, he looked visibly shaken. “Guys...”
Riley’s jaw clenched but he reigned in the urge to get into things any further. “What is it, Graham?”
The other man swallowed, like he was trying to sum up the will to speak up. He shook his head. “Professor Walsh is dead.”

*~~*

Giles traced his finger absently along the page as he muttered through the rest of the passage. No mention of the Polgara sub-type, although in general the species of demon seemed to be rather dim-witted. Buffy should have no problem picking up its trail before any further damage was done.
That was something of a relief to Giles, since Buffy didn’t seem to be at her best. He had seen the weariness that rested on her shoulders before she’d left. She was still brave, still determined, but also tired and heartsick. He could only imagine how much all the events of the last few days, since Faith’s return, must be weighing on her.
And now that the true colours of the Initiative had been revealed by Walsh’s actions, Giles couldn’t see an end in sight. Except via the rather daunting prospect of infiltrating the Initiative base in hopes of getting to the truth and perhaps rescuing the other slayer.
And then there was the sinister figure that Buffy had run into last night. Some meddling sorcerer who seemed to aware of a lot of what was going on in Sunnydale nowadays, and was taunting Buffy with that knowledge.
‘Marley’, a somewhat innocuous name for a dark sorcerer... sorceress, and yet one who seemed to have the power to conjure up fiends from the underworld.
Very ominous. But there was something about Buffy’s description, about her recounting the meeting with this person and what they...she had said, that had resonated with Giles. It had stirred something in his memory, rumours and idle gossip from his academy days; cautionary tales about the price of dabbling in darker things. Nonsense myths. Or so Giles had thought of at the time.
Still, most of his research materials about such things, mysterious magical beings and the like, were back at his apartment, as well as the wealth of knowledge contained in the diaries of previous Watchers that could be of some use. They could help bring the half-shaded memories of his school days into focus.
“Muffin?” Giles became aware of Xander standing over him. “Not as in ‘this is my new pet name for you, but as in –” He waved a rather sad, stale looking muffin in front of Giles face. “Brain food?”
And suddenly, Giles thought the idea of getting the bloody hell out of here to do some proper research was a splendid idea. Tea, toast and wading through some of the Watcher’s diaries seemed just the ticket.
He stood up. “Ah, Xander. Yes, thank you but no. These books just aren’t going to be enough to get to the root of our particular problem. I’m afraid it’s vital that I return home immediately to gather more, um, material.”
Xander looked around at the books strewn over his basement floor. “Really? Are y’sure? Most of these books seem... really thick. We could probably barricade the door with them, I mean if we had to.”
Giles nodded sagely. “I’m positive about this. We must, ah, widen our parameters.”
Willow looked up from her demon compendium. “You shouldn’t go alone, Giles. We don’t know how dangerous it is out there. Or even what the Initiative’s up to.” She set her book carefully to one side and stood up, “I’ll go with you, give you some backup in the form of the voodoo that me-do.” She frowned at that before covering and giving Giles a confident smile.
“I think that’s an excellent idea”, Anya enthused loudly from the couch, “You should both go away for a while, so Xander and I can –”
“Research!” Xander finished loudly, giving everybody a too-wide awkward smile, “We’ll keep right on with all that researching while you’re gone. Grab that knowledge with both hands.”
Giles thought for a moment before nodding. “Very well. See that you do that. Keep it up.” Giles sighed at his ill-considered phrasing before motioning to Willow to leave, “We should be a couple of hours at most, Xander. We’ll bring back more in the way of research material.”
With that Giles followed Willow out into the back yard.
Xander watched them both go. “And donuts. Bring back donuts”, he hastily called after them.

*~~*

Side by side Riley and Forrest stared into the room where the Professor lay dead in a pool of her own blood.
Riley felt at that moment like his world was coming apart piece by piece, relentlessly crumbling under some unseen force or pressure of circumstance that would not stop. And yet it was also an abstract feeling, shot through by an almost dizzying numbness at seeing the woman who had been his mentor lying dead in front of him; by thinking about her being brutally stabbed through the heart and then left undiscovered for hours.
Riley blinked, tried to think and take this in. What did this mean? Who could’ve done this?
Forrest spoke up, his voice full of cold rage. “Look at that wound. Staked.”
And then it was clear.
“Faith.” Riley said flatly. He’d read her file, she’d done this before. Exactly this. And when Walsh had let down her guard, Faith had done it again. “Where is she?”
Graham cleared his throat behind them as he answered. “She’s gone, nobody knows where. But, maybe it was the Polgara – ”
Scratching at his hand, Riley shook his head. “No way. We let that murderous freak out of confinement to wander around, and this is what happens.” He blinked away some sweat. He turned to Forrest, “We suit up. Now.”
Forrest was grimly determined. “No argument here.”
Angleman approached them, obviously having heard. “You’ll do no such thing, Agent Finn”, he said firmly. “Listen, everybody’s upset but now is not the time to go charging off without knowing all the facts. That’s not what the Professor would want, and you know it.”
Riley flinched at Angleman’s rebuke. He didn’t say anything. His mind was full of images of the dark-haired girl, her flashing eyes and dangerous smile as she ran towards him in that corridor. Her fluid movements as she beat men bloody trying to escape. He remembered her and Buffy at the mansion, silhouetted by firelight, leaning close, hushed voices.
Intimate.
Buffy gently touching her hair like...
“Agent Finn, are you listening?”
Riley blinked and snapped his head towards Angleman. The scientist leaned closer and looked him in the eye. “No movements. As of now we’re under complete lockdown until Washington gets here for an internal investigation. Is that understood?”
‘Like hell.’ Riley thought, but nodded shakily. “Yes, Sir.”
Angleman looked at Riley, then at Forrest, Graham and the rest of the assembled men. “I’m sorry. I know we’ve all been hit hard lately, what with last night and now this. Which is all the more reason for calm heads. Now, all of you return to your quarters, there’s nothing you can do here.”
With that Angleman moved away to supervise the removal of Professor Walsh... of the body.
Riley watched him turn his back and then gestured to the others to get their attention. “Listen, Angleman can talk all he wants but I’m still in charge until the brass gets here and tells me otherwise.” He looked around at his men, his voice firm even as he felt something cold writhing in his gut. He’d never felt this angry before. “And I say that there’s a supernatural killer out there who needs to be brought down.”
Most of the men nodded, a few were unsure, including Graham. But Riley pressed on, “Go and suit up for armed patrol, and I mean loaded guns men. We’re not fooling around on this one, she’s too dangerous. Let’s move out.”
Riley watched as they all left without hesitation, some eager to suit up and dole out a little punishment for the hurt they were put through the previous night, others trusting in Riley and obeying orders out of habit.
Riley felt a little better; actually doing something instead of endless internal debating was something of a relief. Walsh was dead and somebody was going to pay.
And Buffy better not get in the way.

*~~*
Michelson and Reyes entered the crypt slowly, sweeping the shadows with their rifles. Reyes was conscious of the fact they weren’t hunting a demon, but some psycho bitch with superpowers. Power enough to do god knows what to a human being. He tightened his fingers around his weapon instinctively as he stepped to one side, shining his scope behind one of the larger tombs.
Michelson ducked past a couple of pillars and scanned the shadows. “Any sign of our wayward girl?” He didn’t seem to be that nervous as the other man.
Reyes wiped some sweat from the back of his neck. “You could take this a little more seriously, y’know.”
Reyes heard a light chuckle from the shadows as Michelson stooped down behind an ornate stone slab. “Oh please. Man, this chick has vamoosed already. She ain’t a creepy, slimy thing. She’s probably hitching her way to Reno as we speak.”
Reyes sighed. He saw the point. “Still, orders are orders.”
There was no reply, just silence.
“Michelson?” No answer. Reyes scowled and straightened his stance, “Hey, J-dog quit messing around over there.”
Then there was a quiet wet, rattling sound, almost like a choking, half-cough and then a swift, sickening crunch, like somebody twisting a cooked chicken leg.
Reyes froze; sweat now gliding across his cold, clammy skin. He noticed how stale the air was, how much this place was a place of death, of dead things.
Reyes hastily shouldered his gun, readied his aim, and crossed himself.
‘Jesus, she’s here, she’s right here, inside with us.’
A lone guy up against a supernatural chica capable of taking out an entire squads of men herself? Not gonna happen.
He should just run for it. Back up slowly, get outside and use his radio to call for support. Contain her in the crypt until–
He saw Michelson reappear out of the shadows, feet shuffling across the floor as he rounded the tomb, his gun pointed at the floor, his head cocked to one side like he was staring at the floor to his left.
Reyes felt relief flood his system, the adrenaline seemed to deflate him slightly as he relaxed.
He chuckled. “Hell man, you had me worried. Would’ve shot your ass off if you’d jerked me around any longer.”
Michelson turned to him, his head lolling sideways like a scarecrow’s. He gazed at him with cold, dead, unseeing eyes filmed with white. They seemed to be lit from behind by a faint bluish hue. It was almost mesmerising. Reyes hesitated for a moment before trying to raise his gun.
Michelson swiftly raised his other hand, the one holding the knife, and buried the blade in Reyes’ chest in one swift motion.
Reyes took a single, shocked step back and then was hit by that deflating feeling again. Not pain exactly, but the release of tension all through his body. His legs dropped out from under him as he fell to the ground, as if in slow motion. He fell limply onto his side as he saw as figure – something – round the corner of the slab.
His only clear thought was that he wished that it had been the Slayer standing there, and not some twisted mockery of life. Its hideous form seemed painful to the eye, a... the only word Reyes could think of was blasphemous, thing, looked as if it had been mashed together using various forest animals, and goat, and man.
The thing stepped forward. Even as Reyes’ lifeblood pooled across the dusty stone floor and he knew that he was dying, he shivered in fear as the things hoof-like foot splashed in his blood.
Reyes tilted his head slightly, feeling colder than he’d ever felt as he gazed up at the putrid blue orbs that looked down at him with alien curiosity. Then slowly, so very slowly, the demon reached down and seized his head with one warped talon.
Reyes trembled as he felt pain seize him, like a cold, black knife was raking at his insides. He choked as his last thoughts tumbled through his head. At least his life was ending; he wouldn’t get to see what horrible thing would happen next.
But he was wrong.

*~~*

Shading her eyes against the glare of the morning sun, Buffy watched from a distance as the medical examiners rolled away a stretcher with the remains of the victim underneath. From what she could see Buffy could tell that the homeless man had been somehow bound to the nearby climbing frame and then... whatever happened, had happened.
Buffy grimaced at the imagery that sprung to mind, but then hardened herself.
‘Skirt the cordon; find the things trail- because these things always leave a trail, and then reward it for its ‘inventiveness’ with a good being killed.’
Satisfied with her plan, and the prospect of violence that came with it, Buffy was startled as Riley approached her from the side. He was dressed in full Initiative gear and looked tired and worn down. And grim.
Buffy took a deep breath and turned to meet him. She wanted to try and makes things right, she needed his help...not just his help; she wanted to show her support. Things must be tough for him as well right now, Buffy wanted to show him that he could at least trust her. And that meant explaining the Spike thing. Great.
“Buffy”, Riley said coolly. He scratched at his hand as he turned his head, surveying the distant crime scene for himself.
“Hey”, she replied gently, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was cold, hard. He didn’t look at her.
She gave a hesitant smile. “Listen, about last night. I know I must’ve thrown you... with what I said, I could’ve phrased things better, and I’m sorry for that. And the Spike thing isn’t nearly as tweaked as it looked.” She paused and glanced at the ground, “Okay, maybe it is, but there’s an explanation that almost makes sense...”
She trailed off as she saw that her words weren’t having the desired reaction. Or any reaction beyond a clenched jaw.
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Listen Riley, I’m trying to apologise here okay? Which is pretty big of me considering I was almost made death on toast by your boss. You wanna give me something besides, y’know, stony silence?”
Riley looked at her, eyes narrow with anger, his face now flushed. “Maggie’s dead”, he spat.
Buffy blinked in shock. Walsh was dead?
She tried to digest the news. “What happened? Who killed her?”
Riley looked disbelieving. “What do you think happened, Buffy? Faith killed her. Y’know, the girl you’re so concerned about. Stabbed her to death.”
Buffy shook her head at the news, stunned not just by what Riley was saying, but also his cold anger, the rigid certainty in the way he said it. She’d been positive that it was the Polgara, that’s what it had to be. “No. That’s...” she stammered, “You’re making a mistake. She wouldn’t do that. Faith...”
“What? Doesn’t kill?” Riley’s voice was harsher now, a tremor of contained fury running through it. “That’s a laugh. She’s a killer, Buffy, it’s what she does.” He paused as he took her measure, “It’s what you both do.”
Buffy felt like she’d been punched in the stomach; for a moment she couldn’t draw her breath or hold a thought. “How can you even say that to me? After everything...” She looked at him searchingly and he glanced away, seemingly regretting what he’d just said. “Forget it. I’m going to go, find the Polgara – ”
“The Polgara’s dead.” Riley’s voice was like granite – the tremor had gone. “We both know who did this, Buffy.”
“No, we don’t. You’re wrong. Whatever did this, it wasn’t Faith, and I’m going to go and find it, then I’ll kill it, as us killers are want to do.” She glared at him, “And you can go to hell for all I care.” She made her words as cold as she could to match his own and then stormed off, shaken.
She couldn’t believe Riley had spoken to her like that: like he didn’t care for her, like it was a choice between her or the Initiative. He had shrugged his shoulders and made a choice.
Buffy tried to clear her mind; she’d worry about him... all that later. She had to find Faith, and find whatever had done this.
To even think that Faith could have done that to some random... Buffy shuddered. They didn’t know Faith, not really. They’d just read a file, all of her mistakes gathered up on paper in one place; they hadn’t known her before, or since. They hadn’t seen her kindness, how tender she could...
Buffy shook her head. That wasn’t the Faith of this world, not yet. But Buffy had seen hurt and regret and guilt when they had last spoken, and those weren’t the feelings of a cold-blooded killer. She could reach Faith, talk to her again, maybe protect her and figure things out while the Initiative was out on the hunt.
So Faith had escaped, and Riley and the Initiative were now looking for her? Where would Faith go? Where would she hold up? Buffy was certain that she wouldn’t leave town, not yet, too much stuff left unfinished.
And all Buffy’s friends were holed up at Xander’s, safe from the Initiative and Faith. Which left where? Graveyards? Warehouses? Maybe Angel’s mansion?
Buffy sighed, that was as good a place to start as any, but she should make one stop along the way.

*~~*

Faith had gotten bored with going through Buffy’s things so now she went through Joyce’s.
“Ruby Sunset.” Faith wrinkled her nose and tossed in back, “Burgundy Skyline.” She smirked and shook her head, tossed in back in the drawer. “Harlot.” Faith smiled, “Hmn, way to go Joyce.”
She looked at Joyce reflected in the mirror, now fully awake and huddled up on the bed. She looked like she was concentrating on not trying to look scared. Doing a pretty good job too.
Faith had to admit, she did enjoy the fear, just a little bit.
“Y’know, normally I wouldn’t be going with a colour this dark, but I read in some magazine that seven months in a coma can damage a girl’s natural skin tone.”
Faith uncapped the tube, twisted the bottom and slowly applying some of the colour luxuriantly over her lips. “Good thing pale is in this year.”
She smiled at her reflection, as she capped the lipstick again. “Or was it last year?”
Faith shrugged the thought off and smacked her lips together, leaning into the glass to plant a big glossy lip print on it. “Anyway, for real now; I wanna ask ya something, and you gotta promise to be honest and not spare my feelings just because I could kill you.” Faith paused to pull on her jacket; she noticed that Joyce eyed both the sheath knife at her waist and the dart gun on the dresser, “You promise?”
Joyce looked at her knees, composing herself. “I promise.”
“Okay,” Faith flicked her hair back from her jacket and adjusted herself. She turned around, lips pursed, knowing how good she looked, feeling even better. The day had been working out pretty great so far, but it was nice to have somebody to talk to again, even a hostage. “How do I look?”
Joyce stared at her for a long moment before deciding on a word. “Psychotic.”
Faith scratched the back of her head as she pouted. “Hmn, I was shooting for sultry, but hey.” She smiled a relaxed smile. Faith had always liked Joyce, and the woman wasn’t disappointing so far.
“Bet I know what you’re thinking.”
Joyce’s tone was derisive. “Really.”
“You’re thinking...” Faith closed her eyes and waved a hand like a mind reader, “‘You’ll never get a way with this!’” She smiled knowingly, “Warm?”
Joyce shook her head as her tone took on a pitying quality. “Actually I was wondering how you got so damaged and unhappy.”
Faith scoffed at that. “Me? I’m five-by-five here Joyce, having a blast actually. As for the damage... not so much anymore, even with Buffy trying t’kill me an’ all.”
Joyce‘s face fell and she looked at her clasped hands. “So I saw.”
Faith’s grin widened, she knew it. “Aw, so Buffy filled you in on the whole deal? Thought so, kinda takes the superhero shine off your little girl though doesn’t it? Tryin’ to feed me to her ex.”
Joyce looked up sharply. “You don’t know a thing about my daughter.”
“Oh, don’t I? See, while you having a little nap I’ve been checking this place out. Not much sign of B these days. Bet it feels real lonely poking ‘round this house all by your lonesome. But Buffy’s too into her own deal to remember dear old Mom.”
Joyce shook her head firmly. “You’re wrong.”
Faith stepped closer to the bed and leaned forward. “Really? Tell me Joycey; are y’surprised to see me up and about at all? I’ve been awake and walking around for a while now, and y’know, there being a crazy chick on the loose an’ all – a crazy chick with a wicked grudge against her no less – maybe B might’ve called on dear ol’ Mom to give you a head’s up.” She glanced pointedly at the phone, “Little late now though doncha think?”
Joyce raised her chin defiantly. “Maybe my daughter thought better of you than this, going after somebody who treated you decently.”
Faith gave Joyce a cold stare, her smile fading. “Her mistake. She’s the one who took everything from me, Joyce. She tried to finish it and failed. Now you’re just”, Faith thought about it for a moment then shrugged unhappily, “damage. Happens all the time, to people who don’t even deserve it. Way of the world.” Faith’s smile returned as she squashed down those other, more unpleasant feelings. Confusing feelings. “Besides, I don’t think Buffy thought better of me at all.”
Joyce let out a soft laugh and actually smiled sadly. “Oh, boy, do you have it wrong, young lady. For all your cynical talk Faith, you don’t know everything; you’re still just a child. So either slit my throat or listen up, you want truth well here’s some.”
Faith wrinkled her nose and smiled indulgently “Check the attitude on Mommy Dearest. You got a pair on ya Joyce. I like seeing that on a woman your age.” Faith took a step back, and folded her arms. “Sure, go ahead. Got plenty o’ time. We can get to all that other stuff later.”
A vague threat would remind Joyce not to try anything.
Joyce looked down at her hands, wringing them as she collected her thoughts. “Last summer, after all that horribleness that you put Buffy through, she was different somehow. She tried to hide it of course, but she was in pain.” She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip. “She was very unhappy.”
“At first I actually thought that it was my fault. I was the one who persuaded Angel to end things, to give Buffy a better chance at a normal life.”
Faith raised her eyebrows in interest, this was new. “Did ya ever tell Buffy that?”
Joyce nodded. “Eventually. I could see how much she was hurting: she wasn’t sleeping, she would just wander around the house at night, end up on the couch instead of in her room. She ate very little; she was distracted all the time, like her mind was elsewhere and imaging goodness knows what. And she would always be going out places during the day, like she couldn’t stand to be around the house. She said that she was checking in with Giles or patrolling in the evenings but... she was lying, covering.”
Faith didn’t say anything; she was too busy listening to the soft trace of heartache she heard in Joyce’s voice, how she cared for her daughter. Faith guessed that was what a parent was supposed to sound like.
Joyce looked at Faith again, her gaze strong, unafraid. “I didn’t know what to do, she wouldn’t talk to me. She just waved away my concerns, saying that she was just tired from slaying. And then finally she caved and told me that it was because of Angel, that she missed him.”
Faith shrugged her shoulders. “Shine a light on that revelation. True love or whatever”, she muttered. That’s at least that was how Buffy had always seen it.
Joyce shook her head. “But she was still lying. I knew because that’s when I confessed to her, how I had told Angel to end things with her. And Buffy, she was... okay with it. She understood that Angel leaving was what she needed, what had to happen. But she was still hiding something.”
Faith frowned in confusion and despite everything she found herself asking. “What?”
“It was only when I ran into a friend at the store I found out. She said she’d seen Buffy visiting somebody at the hospital a lot lately, several days a week.” Joyce looked Faith squarely in the face, “So one afternoon, I went there and found her by your bedside.”
Faith glanced away from Joyce, casting her eyes about and not resting them for anywhere for more than a moment. She felt... like before at the mansion, like there was a tide of noise and feeling and sensation rushing around inside her. Like part of her was bottled up, prevented from escaping, apart from the occasional whispered question that she batted aside.
Faith sneered at Joyce. “So, B felt bad, huh? She told me the same sob story already. Just means that she coached you on it too.”
Joyce shook her head gently, sympathetically, which for some reason really pissed Faith off. She was the one in control, she had the power and now Joyce pitied her?
“You said it yourself Faith, Buffy didn’t think that you would come here after me. She never even told me that you were awake. She told me everything else though, what you did to her and what she did in return, and how the guilt of what she did was eating her up. How she wanted you to wake up so badly –”
“Bullshit!” Faith shouted, jabbing a finger at Joyce, “You’re just the same as her. You act all sorry when there’s no fucking way that you would care. She wouldn’t... not after I... Not after what happened.”
Faith felt her voice crack; she felt a rushing noise in her ears, a torrent of pressure pressing at her from all sides. Suddenly Faith found it difficult to catch her breath, like she wasn’t getting enough air.
Joyce had leaned forward on the bed, “Faith.” She voice was soft. She didn’t look afraid anymore.
‘Big mistake, she should be afraid, she doesn’t know what I’m gonna do. I’m a killer...I could kill just like that...’
Instead Faith grabbed the dart gun from the dresser and pointed it at Joyce. “Just shut up!”
“There’s proof.” Joyce continued quietly, “Buffy doesn’t know I have them, she wanted to get rid of them, because of all the disappointment. But I kept them anyway, I thought it was a decent thing that she and Mr. Giles were doing.”
Faith shook her head in confusion. “What are you...?”
Hesitantly taking her eyes off the gun that Faith still had pointed at her, Joyce gestured with her hand. “The bottom drawer of the dresser, on the right.”
Faith glowered at Joyce as she half turned and knelt; using one hand to pull open the drawer and move some clothes out of the way she saw a small stack of papers. Letters.
Faith grabbed a handful and pulled them out, dumping them on top of the dresser as she stood up. She shot a quick look at Joyce but the older woman hadn’t moved from the bed. She looked oddly expectant and just gave a small nod of encouragement to Faith.
Tearing at the envelopes, still only with one hand, Faith scanned across the letter, a reply by some Institute of Neuroscience based in California, saying that judging by the scans that Buffy had sent there was little hope of any return to consciousness.
Part of the letter read ...‘it is evident from your correspondence that this woman means a great deal to you. All I can suggest is that you do not give up hope. Science makes great advances each and every day, and one day soon your friend, who in many other ways remains strong and healthy, will be able to make a full recovery under the right treatment...’
There was another letter, either unsent or returned without reply, written by Buffy: ‘...if you could please look at the medical information contained within. You will see that my friend is making lots of progress in terms of recovery; she is in every way a fighter. She is actually one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and I care for her very much. I urge you to see the same strength here that I see and that you recommend any treatment that you think may work in this situation...’
Faith blinked uncomprehendingly at the letter, running the words over in her mind and trying to put them in any other way that would make sense.
‘Friend.’
‘I care for her very much.’
‘One of the strongest people I have ever met.’
Faith felt pressure build behind her eyes, saw the words on the letter blur. She blinked rapidly and dropped the letter to the floor.
This didn’t make any sense, after all the damage they’d done to each other why would Buffy even care?
Except she did care. Now Faith knew that everything Buffy had told her had been true; she had meant every word, even after everything that Faith had done.
Faith felt her gun hand waver; she’d almost forgotten that she was holding it. She pressed her palm against her eyes until the pressure eased a little.
And then Faith heard two things almost simultaneously.
She heard Joyce gasp softly in surprise and she heard the creak of floorboards out in the hallway. Faith raised her head and turned just in time to see the blurred form of Buffy punch her in the face.

*~~*

Buffy had entered through the back door, planning on surprising her mom and maybe easing her own sense of guilt.
But immediately, she’d sensed something was wrong in the house. The downstairs lights were off; there was an open but discarded can of soda on the side, dirty dishes tossed in the sink; an untouched coffee pot.
And then Buffy’d heard voices from upstairs.
Faith and her Mom. There was shouting, Faith’s voice.
Buffy’s heart had stopped for a moment, seemingly paralysed in her chest. She felt her face flush in anger. Faith had escaped the Initiative and come straight here, to her home, after her mother.
She’d killed Walsh. Riley had been right. He was many things but he wasn’t a liar, and maybe she’d even killed that homeless guy too.
A sick monster on a rampage.
Buffy had no articulate thoughts as she climbed the stairs; her mind was filled with an almost static-like buzz of fury that blocked out everything else. A last fleeting thought was that maybe Faith had come here to hide, to escape the Initiative and had gone to Buffy’s mom for refuge.
Then she saw through the open doorway that Faith pointing a gun at her mom.
And that was the last coherent thought she had for a while.
Buffy threw herself into the room. She met Faith’s surprised gaze with her fist, using her momentum to punch her as hard as she could. At the same time Buffy snapped her leg out and struck the gun from Faith’s hand, sending it tumbling across the carpet.
“Buffy!” Her Mom’s voice was loud as she cried out a warning but Buffy already had Faith on the back foot. She grabbed the dark haired girl’s jacket, pulled her forward and swinging her around towards the doorway.
Surprised, Faith didn’t put up much resistance as she was let go and flung out into the corridor.
Buffy snapped a look at her mom. “Call the cops. Now!”
Her Mom looked like she wanted to say something but Buffy was already moved out the door.
Press the advantage, don’t give Faith an inch.
Buffy knew from experience how dangerous the other slayer could be and she couldn’t afford to think about... to hesitate.
She swung another punch at Faith, but the other girl ducked, grabbed Buffy’s shoulder and slammed her against the far wall. Buffy retaliated by jabbing an elbow back to connect with the side of Faith’s head, she then pushed off the corner of the corridor with her foot and spun around to deck the other girl with a roundhouse.
But Buffy must’ve telegraphed because Faith was ready and blocked the leg with her own knee, following up by launching a powerful fist and Buffy’s face. Buffy blocked it barely, but countered faster, punching Faith hard in the stomach and then a sharp jab to her face. Faith’s head flew to the side as she stumbled slightly, giving Buffy the opening to slam a foot into her side and another punch against her lower back, gouging against the hard muscle there and the more tender nerves underneath. Faith grunted in pain, the first noise she’d made so far, and turned to lash out again. Buffy managed to duck the clumsy blow in the cramp confines of the corridor but moved directly into Faith’s actual attack, a knee to the face.
Buffy’s head snapped back as she found her footing again, but Faith was on her, slamming them both against a nearby door and then dragging Buffy, and herself, towards the top of the stairs.
As if enjoined in an inelegant dance, they both went over, tumbling head first down the staircase, hard wooden steps hammering at arms, shoulders and ribs. Buffy gritted her teeth against the pain, seeing Faith’s face twisted in a grimace as they both tumbled to the bottom in an ungainly heap.
Acting on instinct Buffy pushed herself away from the other girl and rolled to her feet: ignoring the tired feeling in her limbs, ignoring the pain, she assumed an aggressive combat stance, lashing out with a solid side kick that Faith easily deflected with a back sweep of her arm.
Faith – all smiles now, the bitch – backed off for a moment, smirking. She gave Buffy a mock wounded look. “I thought you weren’t gonna fight me, B?”
Buffy glowered at the other girl. “I’m not going to fight you, Faith. I’m going to beat you to death.”
Then Buffy saw a flicker of something on the other girl’s face. Fear? Sorrow maybe? Buffy stepped forward and slammed a fist into Faith’s jaw before the other girl could even react, she felt the satisfaction of Faith grunting in pain before returning a fist in kind, driving it into Buffy’s ribcage.
Buffy turned with the piledriver punch, pivoting and ramming an elbow into the centre of Faith’s back, then ducking under a backhand before coming up and landing two hard lightning punches across the other girl’s face. Faith knocked another fist to one side, grabbing Buffy by the throat and slamming her back against the wall. Buffy grimaced as her head bounced painfully off the surface.
Faith gritted her teeth, she seemed angrier more than playful now. “C’mon, B. You really didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, by locking me up forever? I’m like a bad penny that way.”
Buffy squirmed against hard clasping fingers. “And what about Walsh?”
Faith shrugged even as she tightened her grip. “Had to get outta there somehow, playing her seemed my best bet. This is me we’re talkin’ about B; I’m just full of surprises. Whaddya think was gonna happen?”
Buffy braced herself against the wall and prepared to break the hold. “I should’ve finished the job while you were sleeping.”
With that she simultaneously kicked Faith hard in the gut and twisted against her arm. Locked it at the elbow and twirling and slamming Faith face-first into the wall. She followed up with another kick to her lower back even as Faith kicked back herself, sending her heavy boot crashing into Buffy’s stomach, winding her.
Faith spun and kicked out again, Buffy managed to block as she backed up. Faith followed aggressively; seemingly not as tired as Buffy was, she threw a couple of powerful punches that Buffy batted aside. Another strike, another elbow flew out of nowhere and caught Buffy in the side of the head. She staggered and barely managed to duck another aggressive cross.
Buffy manoeuvred around so she was between Faith and the stairs, she deflected a few blows that were obvious feints before getting surprised by a strong knee that cracked painfully against her ribs. Buffy felt something give a little. She’d feel that one later.
Buffy responded with her own flurry of punches, a cross then jab, then two body blows followed by a surprise hook that snapped Faith’s head up and back. Buffy gave a half cry of triumph as she hurt the other slayer.
Faith took a step back and licked the blood from her lip; she smiled that intimate, flirty smile of hers. “There’s my girl.”
That was the moment Buffy lost it: she launched herself against the dark-haired girl, taking her by surprise as the both crashed to the floor in the centre of the living room. Buffy was on top, straddling her, deaf except to the roaring sound in her ears as she rained blow after blow down on Faith.
“I will. Never. Be. Your girl. Ever!” she cried out, her voice cracking as she snarled. Buffy drove her fists into Faith’s face, smacking her face to one side and then the other, dazing the other girl with her fury. Buffy’s vision blurred with tears as she threw punches down on the girl she had loved, the girl that she could’ve loved if she...they had done things differently. But that was over now, gone. It was a cruel, tantalising dream of what could’ve been.
“I loved you.” Buffy choked out, “I was going to save you.”Her hands grabbed Faith by the hair and slammed the dark haired girl bodily against the floor again and again. Faith barely managed to knock Buffy’s hands away as she struggled to right herself.
Buffy’s hand flared in pain as Faith managed to move her head to one side, and Buffy pounded the floor with her fist. But she just threw Faith back into place, hammering blows against Faith’s arm that she’d risen to block her face.
Before the other one came up and jabbed something deep into Buffy’s side. Buffy cried out as pain flashed through her, making her spine go rigid with white-hot agony. She slumped to the side as Faith shifted her hips and threw her off.
Buffy cried out again as Faith drove the metal tines of the taser against her stomach and squeezed the trigger. Buffy saw another flash of blue as she jerked from the pain, flopping in agony. Faith rolled away and got to her feet. Buffy tried to do the same, but only managed to get to her knees before she was kicked in the side so hard that she flew up in the air and landed with a soft thud against the couch.
Buffy looked up blearily, hands clutching her stomach, nerves jangling with random pulses of electric pain. She saw Faith standing over her; her face badly battered, taser in hand. Saw her smile grimly and spit blood onto the floor. “Almost had me B.” She chuckled wetly, “Now gotta turn your unstable ass over to Walsh. For your own good o’ course.” Faith paused to wipe her face with her sleeve jacket.
Buffy shook her head. “You killed Walsh...” She coughed weakly and tried to get her muscles to work right; they clenched and trembled weakly but otherwise wouldn’t cooperate. “You killed her... and you escaped.”
Faith paused and stared hard at Buffy. “What?”
“You’re a murderer...The Initiative is out looking for you, Faith... Riley is,” Buffy grimaced as a particularly painful tremor ran through her. “Riley knows what you did.”
Buffy blinked through the pain in time to see Faith drop the taser to the floor and take a step back, almost like she was in a daze. Or maybe all those blows to the head were catching up with her.
Buffy focused on Faith, on the confusion on her face. The dawning horror. “Faith?”
“I didn’t....” Faith glanced sharply at Buffy and then shook her head in a sort of confused desperation. “Screw this. I’m outta here.”
And then she was running to the door, opening it and disappearing out into the day.
Buffy watched the other slayer go in a kind of abstract manner, her emotions and all her inner turmoil subsumed beneath brief powerful flares of pain that wracked her body. But even they were giving way to a leaden tiredness that settled in her limbs, in her torso, in her head, a sort of deadening sensation.
The last thing Buffy remembered quietly murmuring before she passed out was, “This means I won right?”
- 9
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Everything Is Different Now