Life Serial
Giles called her the next day and asked her to meet at some coffee shop downtown. When Faith got there, she found Giles sitting awkwardly at a table, fidgeting with his glasses. She took a seat in front of him. He looked up at her.
“You’re not going to order?”
“Caffeine ain’t exactly a high I’m interested in chasing.”
“They have pastries, if you would like to get one of those.”
“G, no offense, but I’m not here to gossip over coffee and bear claws. You called me here. Why?”
“Right. Yes, well, I wanted to talk to you.”
“About B?”
“No. About you, actually.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“Well,” Giles laid his palms flat on the table, “Faith, you should know that me returning to Sunnydale--it’s only temporary. I came because Buffy came back, but I can’t stay forever. I have a life in England, and soon, I’m going to have to go back to it.”
“And?”
“I think you should come back to England with me.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Giles raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
“I did my time, G, and the only reason I fucking left was because I felt like it was time. That’s something I earned. I turned myself in, all good and proper just like you and B always wanted. I was out of your lives, and I’ll stay out of your lives, but if you think you’re going to turn me into those sniveling British cowards you’ve got another thing comin’.”
“Faith-”
“What?”
“I’m not trying to turn you in.”
Faith crossed her arms. “So why do you want me to come with you to England, then?”
“Well, I, uh, I have people there. Watchers, or former Watchers. Like me. They have their… issues with the Council, like I do. A few of them left after what happened with you, actually. They have enough resources to clear your name with the police here, and they could work with you, or I could work with you, whichever you prefer.”
“Work with me how?”
“As a Watcher. Or, a sort of Watcher. Many of them, myself included, still believe in the Slayer line. We still want to help in the fight against demons and vampires. We just don’t want to do it with the rest of the Council.”
“So you want me to be your guinea pig? It doesn’t matter if you fail with me, right?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Giles said slowly. Faith noticed he was being very deliberate with the words he chose.
“Faith, I--I’m asking you to do this because I think you could use the guidance. But I don’t want to fail with you. Not again.”
“So that’s it, then? I’m not patient zero, I’m a pity ask?”
“I don’t pity you, Faith.” Giles was beginning to sound a bit frustrated. “I am not asking this of you because I pity you. I’m asking this of you because it’s a chance for me to make up for mistakes I made when… well, when you first came to Sunnydale.”
Faith fell silent. Often, especially before she had turned herself in, she had blamed other people for everything that happened. She blamed Buffy and the group for pushing her away, and she blamed Giles for always taking Buffy’s side. She knew Giles was supposed to be Buffy’s Watcher--he had never been hers--but in a way, that only made her resent Buffy more.
She had long since stopped dwelling on the mistakes other people might have made. It just made her angry. Maybe they hadn’t been fair to her, maybe they should have treated her better, but at the end of the day, she was the one that took the leap. And in her mind, she couldn’t have it both ways.
“Don’t blame yourself for that, G.” said Faith, shifting uncomfortably. “I did what I did. You couldn’t have stopped me.”
Giles let out a long sigh. “You know, Faith, after Buffy died, I had a long time to think. And one thing I thought about quite often was you. You… you were a child in my care, a child that had seen too much violence and hardship in the world, and still, I let you go. If it had been Buffy in the situation you were in… well, I would have acted differently, and I know that now. I can’t apologize for feeling differently about Buffy than I do about you, but I can apologize for treating you differently. It wasn’t fair of me to keep you at an arm’s length. And yes, perhaps you did do the things you did. There’s no changing that. But let me ask you this. If, after Allan Finch’s… unfortunate passing… you had someone who refused to give up on you, as the others did with Buffy,” he shook his head, frowning in disapproval, “Do you think you would have still joined the Mayor? Do you think you would have ended up in that coma?”
Faith fell silent, because she wasn’t really sure what to say. She had asked herself that question so many times. What if Buffy had cared about her? What if Giles did? What if someone, anyone, had pushed a little harder? Would she have still pushed them away?
“There’s no point in asking ‘what if’, G.”
“No.” Giles agreed. “Although that doesn't mean I don't owe you an apology. And," he shifted uncomfortably, "I do still think you have potential, Faith. And now that you’re, well…”
“Not evil?”
“Well, those weren’t quite the words I was going to use, but yes. Now that you’re, erm, ‘not evil’, I was thinking that perhaps I could have a second chance.”
“And that second chance would be in England.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, G. I don’t think that kinda life is for me.”
“Well,” Giles took a sip of what Faith now realized was tea, “I’m not leaving for England quite yet, so you have a bit of time to think about it. That’s all I’m asking you to do, anyway. Think about it.”
“Okay.” Faith felt shaky, uncertain. Why would he want this? Why would he want to work with her, of all people? Didn’t he know what she’d done? Shouldn’t he hate her? Why didn’t he hate her?
“Perhaps, in the meantime, you should consider what you want to do with your life.” Giles continued. “Buffy is doing something similar. She’s attempting to go back to university, though I know because of your… circumstances, that may not be an option for you. But you could study up, get your high school diploma… although Sunnydale High is rubble, so that might be a bit difficult…”
“It’s fine, G.” Faith didn’t particularly care about getting her GED. Some of the girls in the prison had been trying for it, and Jules had offered to introduce Faith to them, but she had never been interested in it. What did she need a high school diploma for? She was a Slayer. She didn’t need a degree, didn’t need to get a good job. Her destiny was laid out for her.
Giles nodded, though he looked concerned. It was a familiar expression on him, one that Faith recognized from her former days with Buffy and co. She looked at the table so she didn’t have to acknowledge it, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, a waitress finally came over.
“Is everything okay over here?” she asked, tilting her head in an adorable gesture.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Faith gave the waitress her most charming smile. “I’m just about to leave. Right, G?”
Giles looked mildly surprised, but nodded in assent.
“Hey, by the way,” Faith said to the waitress as she stood to leave, “What time do you get off?”
“Faith,” scolded Giles.
…
Faith wasn’t really a ‘future’ kind of gal. And while Giles’ offer to take her back to England was rolling around in her head for the next few days, the rest of what he’d said had been in one ear and out the other.
‘Future’ was hard for someone like Faith to plan. She had made a lot of progress on herself in prison, but she still wasn’t quite convinced that she had a future. And maybe she was right. She was a Slayer, even if it most considered her the alternate. Regardless, slaying was a dangerous living. It wasn’t likely she’d get to live a long, full life, and she didn’t have a group of eager loving friends willing to defy the laws of nature for her.
Faith needed to think, and she did her best thinking when she was either dancing or fucking. She figured her best prospect for either was to head to the Bronze. It kind of sucked that Sunnydale only had one human club and seemed to have an untold number of demon clubs, but maybe that’s how it was on the Hellmouth.
As was to be expected, the Bronze was empty, save for a couple of college boys who thought it was cool that they were skipping class to go hang out at a dead bar in town. Faith wasn’t particularly attracted to any of them, but at least college boys made for easy marks.
She befriended them quickly, and got a game of pool started. After spending a couple of hours wiping them clean and swearing the whole time that she barely knew how pool worked and she had never won this much before, they finally realized they were being hustled and left. Thankfully by that time, the Bronze had started to pick up.
Faith bailed for a couple hours to go patrol, killed a couple fresh vamps (there were so many more here than in Cleveland), and then headed back to the Bronze and danced until her body got heavy. It didn’t help clear her head.
The next day, she rolled out of her old motel bed around noon and opted to head back to the Bronze. There was no particular reason why, except that she was dead bored and had nothing better to do. She had decided to stay in town until Giles left, at least to give her more time to think about what he'd offered. She was already regretting that decision.
She’d just barely gotten there and was sipping a beer absently when he walked in. Any normal person’s first impression of him would be that he was an addict. He had a black backpack which he kept touching, as if to make sure it was still there. His pale blond hair was wild, his skin was pale, and his clear blue eyes were sunken into his head. Faith eyed him suspiciously. There weren't a lot of addicts in Sunnydale, but there was a surplus of something worse.
“Hey, buddy.” said Faith, getting up and taking a seat next to him. His watched her take a casual sip of her beer, but didn't reply.
“Something wrong?” Faith asked. “You’re lookin’ a little pale.”
Something like realization flashed in his pale eyes. He gave her a little grin and licked his lips. “Maybe we should take this outside?”
“Fine by me.” If he was a vampire, he was the most polite vampire she’d ever met. If not, well, this was gonna get nasty. Faith didn’t kill normal men anymore, but she had no problems taking their favorite little piece if they didn’t behave.
She slid off the barstool and followed him outside, her fingers twitching towards the stake at her hip. Not yet.
The man--if he could be called that--led her into the alley behind the Bronze. Faith’s fingers brushed against the wood of her stake.
“Okay,” he breathed once the two of them were comfortably situated at the end of the alley. He looked around to make sure they were alone. “I think we’re safe.”
Faith arched a brow, curious. “Safe from what?”
Instead of answering, she watched as he slung the backpack off his shoulders and placed it carefully on the ground. He looked up at her, eyes wide. “I’ve got the goods.”
“The goods?” Jesus, he was a druggie.
“Fuck’s sake,” said Faith, “I’m not a goddamn drug dealer.”
He straightened, looking at her with an earnest expression. “Who said anything about drugs?” he asked as he withdrew something small from his backpack.
It took Faith a moment to process what he was holding. At first, it looked like a white bundle. Again, Faith assumed it was drugs. But then she realized the bundle was fluffy. It had eyes. Bright blue eyes, just like whatever was holding it. It wriggled a little bit and managed to free a miniature white paw from its captor’s grip.
“So, what do you think?” He offered the kitten to a truly bewildered Faith. She stared at him.
“What the… what the fuck is this?”
He cradled the kitten against his chest. “This? This is a premium, purebred kitten!”
She stared at him. He threw up his hands, gripping the kitten in one hand by the scruff of its neck. It yowled and hissed, but the application of its tiny claws to his skin didn’t seem to phase him.
“What, you’re telling me these aren’t good enough for Teeth? C’mon! These kittens are top-notch! They should cover my debt for sure!”
Slowly, Faith began to realize that she hadn’t stumbled into a drug deal. No, this was much, much weirder than a drug deal. Why he was trading in kittens was beyond her, but if he wasn’t paying in money or drugs, good odds were he wasn’t human.
“Does the word ‘Slayer’ mean anything to you?” Faith asked him, hand twitching towards her stake. His eyes widened, but he looked her up and down appraisingly.
“Sure. But last I heard, the Slayer was blonde.”
With a smirk, Faith whipped out her stake and lunged for him. He dodged, dropping the kitten. Faith, who didn’t want to add ‘kitten death’ to her already heavy conscience, was forced to move to catch the cat. The move cost her, and the vampire knocked her to the ground. The cat, apparently thoroughly distressed, clawed its way out of her hand and it scampered to a corner of the alley, mewling in fear as the vampire got on top of her.
“So, what? There’re two of you now?”
“Have been for years.” Faith pulled her legs up as much as she could and kicked him. It wasn’t enough force to get him off of her, but it was enough to surprise him. Then she shoved him the rest of the way off, kicked him again, pinned him to the ground, and dusted him.
It was easy, as usual. She hadn’t gotten the vibe that he was a particularly powerful or old vampire. He was just some idiot that had gotten turned, because this was the Hellmouth, and most of the population was going to end either as a vampire snack or the vampire that wanted one.
The kittens were a little weirder. They were probably being used as currency, but why kittens? God, what the fuck was it with this town? Faith used to think that Hellmouths were just like this, but she’d been in Cleveland all summer and nothing bad or weird had happened. So it had to be Sunnydale.
She knelt down in the dust of the vampire and picked up the backpack. There was a cluster of four more kittens in there, all tightly packed and mewing pathetically. One of them, a little gray tabby with bright green eyes, hissed when she tried to reach in and lift one of them out.
“Fine.” Faith muttered. “I’ll let someone else deal with you, then.”
Carefully, she zipped the backpack back up--not fully, so the kittens could still breathe, and slung it over her shoulder. Of all the ways she had expected the day to go, this was not one of them.
As she headed back into the Bronze, she heard a sharp, plaintive mrrow. She stopped, initially thinking that something she had done hurt one of the kittens. But once it happened again, she realized it wasn’t coming from the backpack. She looked down, and saw the small white kitten at her feet.
“Shit. I forgot about you, didn’t I?” Faith bent down and scooped the cat up into her arms. The kitten mewed happily, and rubbed its face against her arms, closing its eyes. Its small white tail flicked happily.
Faith walked awkwardly back into the Bronze. The bartender raised an eyebrow when he saw her, now carrying the backpack of the other man who was nowhere in sight, and with a kitten in her arms.
“You have any idea where the nearest shelter is?” she asked him.
He eyed the cat in her arms. “You know, animals aren’t allowed in here.”
Faith glared at him. “Well, I’m trying to get it out of here, aren’t I? So just tell me where the hell the nearest shelter is and we can both be happy.”
“It’s downtown. Two doors down from that clothing place, if you know where that is.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Hey,” he called to the already-retreating Faith, “You gonna pay for your beer?”
“Start a tab. I’ll be back.”
…
Faith eventually found the animal shelter, and awkwardly explained to the cute, curly-haired redhead at the counter that she had found a backpack full of kittens just on the street, and wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“That’s kind of weird.” the girl giggled. She had the upbeat, cheery kind of voice that made everything she said sound like a giggle.
“Yeah.” Faith agreed. 'You have no idea', she thought to herself. She watched as the girl carefully detached the kittens from the backpack, then looked expectantly at Faith and the white kitten in her arms.
“Oh. Right.” Faith handed her the kitten she was holding, muttered an uncomfortable thanks for the help, and turned to leave.
“Wait! Don’t you want to take your backpack?”
“Right. Thanks.” Faith repeated. Nothing in the Slayer's code about turning down a free backpack.
Once she was out of the shelter and safely away from the prying eyes of the cheerful shelter girl, she knelt down and began digging through the backpack. It was mostly to see if the vampire had left anything actually valuable in there, but she found nothing except a whole lot of cat hair and a business card.
The card was for the very shelter she was standing in front of--but on the back was scrawled “Poker game. Don’t be late.” Underneath was written the day, time, and address. Damn, this vampire was helpful. And if it was a poker game, and the kittens were some kind of currency, good bet was there would be demons there. Faith figured, as the Slayer, it warranted some investigating. The fact that it probably took place in a seedy demon bar had nothing to do with her decision.
According to his graciously left notes, the poker game would be held two days from now. Gambling or demon slaying, Faith didn't care: either one was a good way to spend an evening. She grabbed the empty backpack and headed back to the motel. She had two days to kill, and then: a poker game to crash.
…
The worst part about Sunnydale was that as weird, violent, and supernatural as it was, it was also boring. Small towns in California were like that.
But eventually, the night of the poker game arrived. It was being held in the back room of a demon bar (Christ, how many did Sunnydale have?) The bartender let her right into the poker game. For once, Faith was glad she wasn’t the recognizable Slayer.
The poker game was well underway when she walked in. There were four figures sitting around a table, and they were certainly demons. But Faith didn’t pay any attention to the horned, the scabby, or the flabby. Instead, she looked right at the thin, pale figure with peroxide-blond hair sitting with his back to her.
“Spike? What the hell are you doing here?”
Spike turned around, regarding Faith with an expression of mild surprise. “Bugger.” He glanced over at someone in the corner. Faith followed his gaze. Jesus Christ. How many more fucking surprises did this bullshit town have in it?
“What are you doing here?” Buffy blurted out. Her eyes were wide, and there was a faint, resentful look on her face, like she was angry at Faith for coming.
“Well, gee, B, I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t invited.” Faith drawled. She chose not to question the fact that Buffy was here. New life, new B, apparently.
One of the other demons spoke up, one with hard ridges across his face that looked like scales, but weren’t quite reptilian enough to qualify. He was certainly the most intimidating of the bunch, though Faith figured it would probably only take a couple of minutes and a sharp weapon to take him out.
“You weren’t invited.”
Faith pulled out the business card. “Really? Coulda sworn this had my name on it.”
Another demon, this one with great flabs of skin that made him look half-melted and a pair of wilted, pointy ears, went, “Oh, crap. Vinnie.”
“Vinnie?” the third demon, this one with smooth green skin and several pairs of horns on the back of his head, demanded. “What about Vinnie?”
“That’s his handwriting!” the flabby demon cried, pointing to the card.
“How can you tell?” the first one asked.
“Who the hell is Vinnie?” Buffy demanded, looking seriously annoyed. Faith recognized the expression.
“He’s… well, he gets us the goods.” the flabby demon explained somewhat bashfully. He gestured to the kittens.
“Oh, great.” Faith hadn’t noticed the basket of kittens in the middle of the table until that point. “You guys are doing it, too.”
“Doing what?” Buffy asked.
“Trading kittens.”
“You knew about the kittens?”
“Ran into some vampire creep that was hawkin’ them a few days ago. Don’t worry, I staked him and left the kittens off at the shelter.”
“No kidding!” cried the flabby demon. “That’s where we got these! Vinnie didn’t show up for his usual delivery. Now I guess we know why.”
Faith suddenly noticed that one of the cats in the basket was familiar to her. It was the same white, blue-eyed kitten that she had rescued yesterday.
“Alright, this is stupid.” interjected Buffy. She brushed past Faith, getting close enough that Faith got a sudden whiff of booze, something that emanated from the whole place but was distinctly stronger around Buffy.
Buffy walked up to the basket and dumped it out, spilling the kittens onto the poker table. “Scamper! Be free, kittens!” The white one bounded off the table and ran to Faith’s feet. Great. It liked her.
“B, are you drunk?”
Buffy turned to Faith and glared. “What do you care? It’s not like you’re Miss Sobriety yourself.”
“Back off.” said Spike, suddenly getting between Faith and Buffy. “The Slayer wanted a night of fun, so that’s what I gave her.”
“No,” argued Buffy, grabbing Spike by his leather shoulder and shoving him aside, “What you gave me was a night of lameness. Lame-ity. Whatever. This was stupid, this whole thing. You gamble with kittens? I mean, how pathetic is that? Tonight sucked. And look at me! Look at stupid Buffy! Too dumb for college and-and freak Buffy. Too strong for construction work. And my job at the magic shop? I was bored to tears even before the hour that wouldn’t end. And the only person that I can even stand to be around is a neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker!”
“You were cheating! I knew it!” cried the green demon. The other three demons, who had thus far been entertained trying to grab the kittens, all turned on the three of them. Faith felt pretty confident that even with Buffy being drunk, they could take the demons. But Buffy let out a huff of frustration and turned on her heel, storming out of the room in classic dramatic Buffy fashion. Faith, who expected this behavior from Buffy and was therefore unbothered by it, turned to Spike and remarked, “She’s meaner than I remember.” In response, Spike gave her an annoyed look, then ran after Buffy. Faith, seeing as there was nothing better to do, and seeing as she really wanted to know more about whatever Buffy and Spike’s relationship was, went after him.
Faith and Spike chased Buffy back through the demon bar and into the street. Spike nearly ran into her, standing stock-still staring off at a nondescript black van parked down the street. Spike looked distinctly annoyed. Faith stopped a few paces behind him and tried to hide her amusement.
“That van,” said Buffy, suddenly thoughtful.
“You wanna steal a van, I’m with you, love, but we have got the motorcycle.” Spike gestured vaguely to what someone more generous than Faith would call a parking lot.
Again, Faith wondered what their relationship was. It seemed distinctly darker and more destructive than what Buffy had with Angel, which was saying something. It didn’t seem inherently romantic, either. Buffy and Angel had always had a moony, yearning, star-crossed lovers thing going on, something that Faith had always thought was gross and annoying. But Buffy and Spike seemed to barely be able to stand each other. They reminded Faith more of her mom and her parade of deadbeat boyfriends than a sickly-sweet romance novel come to life.
Buffy shook her head at Spike’s suggestion. Well, at least she hadn’t gone entirely crazy.
“I’ve seen it before, at the construction site.” She insisted. Then, slowly, as if in a trance, Buffy began to approach the van. Spike looked over at Faith, puzzled, before seemingly remembering that he didn’t like her. Faith smirked. If nothing else, at least this night was entertaining.
Faith didn't expect the van to really be anything. It wasn't particularly distinct, and there were probably dozens like it in Sunnydale. Besides, Buffy was drunk off her ass. Faith couldn't even remember all the times she'd been convinced of something stupid because she was drunk off her ass.
When Buffy drew close to the van, however, a massive demon emerged from behind it. It was a very anticlimactic entrance, Faith thought, and the demon was probably the stupidest one she'd ever seen. He didn’t look like any demon Faith had seen before, either. He looked more like a child’s idea of a demon, or what idiotic Christians thought Satan would look like if he was real (was the Devil real? Faith wasn’t wholly sure).
“You have discovered me!” the demon announced in a gravelly but not particularly intimidating voice. Faith saw Spike shift his stance a little bit, like he was going to fight it.
“Do not try to defeat me.” the demon warned Buffy, “For I have been testing you, and I know your weaknesses!” The van behind him tore off fast enough to leave skid marks on the road.
“Yeah?” Faith called from her spot behind Spike. “What about me? You know my weaknesses?”
The demon looked over at her, and his eyes widened. “You? I mean, who,” he cleared his throat, aiming for a deeper register, “Who are you?”
“The Slayer.”
The demon looked from Buffy to Faith, visibly confused. “But I--I thought she was the Slayer.” He pointed a long, claw-tipped finger at Buffy.
“‘Fraid there are two of them.” Spike told the demon commiserably. The demon looked at him and frowned.
“Two Slayers? Is that possible?”
“You tell me.” said Buffy, and she kicked him in the stomach. Or, tried to kick him in the stomach. She missed, whirled around a bit, then staggered to the ground. Spike rushed to her aid while Faith stepped up to the demon.
He wasn’t particularly intimidating, and if he hadn’t been vaguely threatening Buffy, Faith thought she wouldn’t have bothered. When he saw her coming towards her, he backed away a couple of steps. Faith went for the same move as Buffy. She didn’t miss.
The demon crumpled, clutching his stomach and slowly easing himself to the ground. Faith heard Buffy protesting Spike’s help as the demon said in a serious and dramatic voice, “I am well struck.”
“Not yet.” said Faith, not one to let a talkative demon get to from her. She slammed her fist into the demon’s face. He staggered back a couple of steps, clutching his nose.
“Damn,” said Faith, tossing some of her hair out of her face, “You go down easy.”
She took another shot at him, this time knocking the demon fully to the ground. She pulled a knife out, and as she went for him the demon’s hands flew up in a gesture of surrender.
“Wait!” Faith didn’t wait.
“Wait, you can’t kill me! I’m a human! You're a good guy! You don't kill!"
Faith stopped. It wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t. She knew it couldn’t be, because she was looking at him right now, and he was a demon. He was red. He had horns, and fangs, and big leathery wings. He was a demon. But the feeling of real human blood coating her hands, the feeling of a stake going through flesh and blood, crept over her body.
“Haha!” he cried, getting awkwardly to his feet. He pointed at her, grinning. “You’ve fallen for my trick! I call on the portal to my misty demon dimension, where I’ll plot my revenge against you!” Revenge for what, Faith wasn’t sure. But the demon threw what looked like a smoke bomb down, and in a small explosion of smoke and sparks, he disappeared.
“He exploded.” said Buffy stupidly, just as Faith was about to ask if this was some kind of joke. “Did you see that?”
“Yeah, I saw.” Spike replied, with all the gravity of one who had actually seen a demon explode. “He’s gone.”
Faith, thoroughly confused and still unconvinced that this hadn’t been an elaborate prank, sheathed her knife. God, she hated Sunnydale. And she hated Buffy for being too drunk off her ass to realize what a pathetic demon fight that was. Whatever kind of demon she had just fought, he crumpled like a wet piece of paper. She could have taken him blind with her hands tied behind her back, and that was not something that could be said of most demons.
Buffy turned to Faith, as if she’d just remembered she was there. “When he said he was human,” she began slowly.
“I know. It was stupid. Shouldn’t have let him get to me like that.”
“No. It was good. That you didn’t want to kill him, because he might have been a human. It’s good to… good to have that instinct.” Buffy pulled a face, then turned to Spike. “Oh, God. I’m gonna be sick.” Spike’s face, which Faith noticed held something like affection when she talked, switched to concern.
Buffy doubled over and vomited in the street. Spike held her by the shoulder the whole time, but she shrugged him off as soon as she finished puking up her dinner. Then she turned to Faith, wiped her mouth with the corner of her hand, and said, “You should, uh, probably start coming to our meetings.”
“Meetings?” Faith still hadn't recovered from how weird everything was today. She wondered if she was gonna wake up in her bed at the motel with this whole day having been a drunken dream.
“Yeah.” Buffy, despite her protests any time Spike tried to help her, reached out and pressed a hand against his arm to steady herself. “Y’know, since you’re a Slayer and all. They’re at the Magic Box. That’s where Giles keeps all his fancy books.”
She gave herself a proud little nod, the one she did when she had done something good. What good, exactly, she had done was a mystery to Faith, because from her point of view, all Buffy had done was invite a wolf into the hen house. Sure, she was trying to be better. But that didn't mean she trusted herself to be a part of Buffy's gang again, and Buffy shouldn't, either.
The other Slayer walked off, and Spike followed, rather like a lost puppy blindly following its master. Seeing that, Faith thought she finally understood at least part of Buffy and Spike's relationship. And later, she realized that she had a little stalker of her own. She was halfway to the motel at that point, and picked up the adorable white kitten begrudgingly. She just ignore it. She could barely take care of herself these days, much less a helpless animal. But Sunnydale was a dangerous place at night, and she should at least keep it until she could bring it back to the animal shelter in the morning. She had to go downtown anyway. Apparently, she had an appointment at the Magic Box she needed to keep.