Dead and Gone
Faith woke to the sound of voices. It took her brain a minute to catch up with what had happened. She remembered Willow’s black eyes. The feeling of half a dozen magical lances in her body. And then… nothing.
She tried to sit up, and groaned as her body protested. Her chest bare except for bandages. How badly had she been hurt?
“Oh. You’re awake.” said a monotone voice she recognized. Anya was sitting at the end of the Summers couch, with Xander next to her, Buffy in a chair, and, if the faint sound of creaking wood was any indication, Dawn eavesdropping on the stairs.
“Yeah, I’m awake.” muttered Faith. “What the fuck happened?”
“Willow went crazy on magic and tried to kill you.”
“She didn’t go crazy,” said Xander, with a disapproving look at his girlfriend. “She just lost control. It was an accident.”
“How did I survive?” Faith asked. She looked at Buffy, who had said nothing. Buffy looked at her for one long, agonizing moment, then looked away.
“She tried to save you,” said Buffy, without looking at Faith. “But whatever magic she was on… it messed it up. She ended up cauterizing the wounds more than healing them. But it stopped the bleeding, at least. Your Slayer healing did the rest.”
“Great. So she almost killed me, then burned me, and then what? Came back here to sleep it off?”
The three of them exchanged looks that told Faith she wasn’t far off. “It was an accident.” faltered Buffy.
“Yeah, B, it was a fucking accident. In case you don’t remember, I know a thing or two about those. And I seem to recall that when I had an accident, no one cared nearly as much. So what would have happened if I had died, huh? Would you still have shrugged it off? Would she still be sleeping upstairs with all her pathetic little friends making excuses for her while she tears herself apart piece by piece?”
No one responded. Faith continued, “Or what would have happened if I hadn’t been there? If it had been Dawn who took that blast? Dawn doesn’t have Slayer healing, Buffy. Would you still make excuses for her if her little accident killed your sister?”
“Enough.” said Xander, because Buffy was white as a sheet now. She looked so fragile. Like she was about to break. It only made Faith angrier, because what right did she have to look so scared, so vulnerable?
“No, it’s not enough.” Faith snarled, getting to her feet with perhaps too much speed. Her body screamed, but she ignored it. “It’s not fucking enough, Xander. Your friend tried to kill me because she’s addicted to magic that she can’t understand, and all the three of you want to do is coddle her and pretend the problem doesn’t exist. When are you going to wake up? She’s dangerous. And I know you know that, and I know you all know, deep down, that something needs to be done. Because why else would you have a meeting about her without the three people she’s fucked over the most?”
“We’re not having a meeting about her,” said Xander as at the same time Buffy said, “Dawn is too young-”
“Too young to be brought to a fucking magical drug deal and wait in a room full of junkies alone, then almost be killed by someone who was supposed to protect her. Yeah, I agree.” snapped Faith. “But that happened to her, and so has a bunch of other fucked up shit. She’s sixteen, B. Old as you were when you were chosen. Old enough to have a hand in deciding what to do with the crazy witch that risked her life over and over again for a fix.”
“We’re not gonna do anything with her-” Xander started again, but Faith was already on her feet and halfway out the door. Her leather jacket was tossed on the floor. She picked it up and pulled it tightly around her bandaged chest. She had lost a lot of blood the night before, so her legs trembled and she moved slower than normal, but thankfully, still managed to achieve an effectively dramatic departure.
“Oh, and by the way,” Faith added as she reached the door, “Dawn isn’t the only one I was talking about. You don’t think maybe the woman Red loved has some insight into this situation? Or were you too busy patting yourselves on the back for enabling her?”
She left before they had time to think of a response. Frankly, she was too angry to hear it. It was so stupid that after all this, they were still the same. It was always going to be the three of them against the world. No one else ever had a chance of breaking in. And it wasn’t like Faith even wanted that anymore, but she had, once upon a time.
What would her life have been like if they made excuses for her the way they were doing for Willow? If after she had killed a man, they had insisted it was an accident, insisted that she wasn’t a killer? Faith felt the phantom sensation of blood on her hands. She remembered how it felt to drive a stake into his heart. She wondered if Willow even cared. She would have if it was Dawn, sure, but it wasn’t. It was Faith. Faith, who she hated. Faith, who she probably wanted dead anyways. The three of them were probably only sorry that Faith had lived.
Let’s zoom out for a minute. Faith was too busy feeling sorry for herself to pay attention to her surroundings. Buffy and the gang were too busy worrying about their friend to remember that they had enemies. And the Trio? Well, they weren’t distracted at all. Which is why as Faith headed back to the motel, they were already there, device in hand. Ready to make all of this drama work for them.
The Trio wanted a nemesis. Buffy was perfect because she was like Superman, if Superman were a hot babe (Jonathan’s words, not mine). She was righteous and powerful in a way they recognized.
Faith was not like that. Faith was angry and dangerous. She was all jagged edges and broken promises. She wasn’t dangerous but approachable like Buffy. She wasn’t attainable. She was a nightmare, a hellcat let loose. They were scared of Buffy, but they knew she wouldn’t hurt them. She couldn’t. She was a hero, and heroes didn’t kill. But Faith didn’t go by the rules of their silly little comics. She had killed before, and she could kill again.
So the Trio decided they needed to get Faith out of the way first. Warren had suggested murder, but at the discomfort of the other two boys, had reluctantly downgraded to framing her. They asked around, and while the fine details were still a little fuzzy, they learned enough to know that Buffy and Faith had a rocky past. Rocky enough that if Faith, clearly angry and hot off an argument with Buffy, attacked the other Slayer, it wouldn’t seem out of character. Buffy would beat her, send her on her way, and then they would be free to continue their plans.
To up the stakes a little bit, since he didn’t understand why Andrew and Jonathan cared so much about whether Buffy lived, Warren had decided to use his cerebral dampener to give Faith an order they wouldn’t like. The three of them had agreed to tell Faith to fight Buffy. But the more Warren thought about it, wouldn’t it be so much easier if Faith just killed her? Faith would be ostracized, and no doubt leave. Buffy would be dead. And no one would be the wiser about the Trio’s involvement. It was the perfect plan.
None of the Trio were exactly master strategists. The hinge of their plan? Luck. They captured Faith, but the only reason it worked was because they happened to catch her when she was distracted and hurt. They didn’t engineer that. Any other day, any other time, and they all would have been bloodied and limping their way back to Warren’s basement. Instead, they strutted through town, a blank-faced and obedient Faith on their heels.
They took Faith to the lair to figure out what to do with her. There was a lot of excited chatter from Andrew and Jonathan about how cool it was that Faith was their slave, how cool it was that she could fight for them and be their girlfriend.
“Focus!” Warren reminded them. “She’s got to do her job first. Then we can play with her. Got it?”
Still, Warren thought it was a great waste not to at least try her out first, especially if Buffy ended up killing her, and they had to find a new girl. So he looked at Faith and said, “Kiss me.”
Faith did. Warren, with an intrigued raise of his eyebrow, pulled back and said, “Tell me you think I’m hot.”
“I think you’re hot, Master.”
He raised his eyebrow further.
“I think you’re hotter than any man I’ve ever been with. I can barely control myself around you.”
Warren smirked, and turned back to Andrew and Jonathan. “Let’s finish this fast. This is gonna be fun.”
Faith was instructed to make a phone call telling Buffy to meet her in a cemetery. (“She’s a Slayer. It’s probably, like, her favorite place to be.” said Andrew). Then she was sent to the cemetery with the instructions from Jonathan to fight her. After Andrew and Jonathan had loaded into their van, Warren took Faith by the arm.
“Scratch Jonathan’s order,” he told her. “Don’t fight Buffy. Don’t make it look convincing. Be convincing. Kill her. And make it quick.”
“Yes, Master.”
…
Buffy found Faith standing in the cemetery. She should have known that something was off from the way Faith was standing. Faith didn’t stand so stiffly unless she was preparing for a fight.
“Faith?” said Buffy. “What are we doing here?”
Faith turned and hurled a knife at Buffy’s head. Buffy caught it inches before the tip embedded itself in her eye.
“What the-”
Faith was already moving, already pulling out a second blade that Buffy just barely managed to block with the knife.
“Faith, stop! What are you doing?”
Faith pulled back the blade and lunged again. Buffy dodged. “I thought we were-” but was cut off when Faith punched her in the face.
Buffy staggered back a few steps and wiped her mouth. “Okay,” she said, raising her head and glaring at Faith. “Now I’m pissed.”
She tried to punch Faith. Faith blocked her and used the distraction to hit her again. Buffy grit her teeth and swung again. When Faith blocked her, she grabbed Faith’s arm and broke it. Faith didn’t even flinch.
A Slayer against a vampire was a fair enough fight. Slayers were stronger, better, but there was always the odd vampire or two that was old or cunning enough to be a problem. But a Slayer against a Slayer? The strength, the skill, the power being expended for them to fight? It wasn’t like three years ago, when they had fought on a rooftop as children. Since then, Faith had gone to prison. Buffy had fought a god. They were older, more experienced. They were the Slayers that lived, and they were good at what they did.
Faith raised her knife to strike and Buffy took the chance. She grabbed Faith, held her arm aloft, and used her other hand to shove the other Slayer hard enough to pin her to a tree. “Faith,” she said, using her most dangerous voice, “Stop. Now.”
Faith thrashed. Buffy pressed the other Slayer's broken arm against the trunk of the tree.
Faith dropped the knife and drove a knee into Buffy’s stomach. Then, when Buffy was doubled over for a fraction of a second, she raised her foot and kicked her in the head. As Buffy went down, so did Faith, grabbing for the knife to slit Buffy’s throat.
Faith’s hand closed on the knife, and something cracked. She raised the knife and grabbed Buffy’s hair, pulling her head back so she could press the blade against her throat. Something splintered. She dug the edge of the blade into Buffy’s skin. And everything shattered.
Faith gasped as her thoughts suddenly returned to her, rushing at her like a river. She remembered… what did she remember? How did she get here? She remembered the dweeb squad accosting her in the street, wearing the stupidest sunglasses she had ever seen. She remembered a bright light. She remembered words, echoing into the emptiness, so honeyed and sweet that she couldn’t resist them. Kiss me. Kill her.
Faith dropped the knife again and let Buffy go. She staggered back, clutching at her head with one arm while the other one hung limp at her side. Everything hurt. It felt like a dream. But it couldn’t be, because she was standing in this cemetery, and Buffy was staring at her, bruised and bleeding. And furious.
“I’m gonna kill them.” Faith whispered. Oh, fuck, what had they done to her?
“What the hell is going on?” Buffy demanded. Faith looked up at her. She was still standing like she was expecting a fight, still holding a weapon, but she hadn’t made a move against Faith.
“B, I-”
“What happened?”
“I-I don’t know. One second I was walking down the street, the next I’m here with you.”
“This wasn’t you? It wasn’t you that was trying to kill me?”A part of Faith was indignant that after all she had done, Buffy still thought she would do this. But she had done it before: who’s to say she couldn’t do it again?
“I don’t--it wasn’t--”
“Faith.”
The knife on the ground had Buffy’s blood on it. Faith swallowed. How close had she come to killing Buffy just now?
“The-the nerdy guys.” said Faith, struggling to collect her thoughts. “They found me. They came out at me, and then there was this light, and then I--I don’t know. I lost control. It’s like I wasn’t even in there.” Kiss me.
“So what was it, then? A spell?”
“I don’t know.”
Buffy crossed her arms. “And how am I supposed to believe all this?”
Faith shook her head. Kiss me. God, she was going to kill them so hard. “I don’t know.”
But luckily, it seemed like not every god had forsaken her, because Warren and Jonathan abruptly burst onto the scene, idiotic glasses and all.
“Faith,” said Warren, “Kill her.” Faith stared at him. Kiss me. Her hands trembled. The knife was still on the ground. She couldn’t kill another human. Kill her.
“What did you do to me?” asked Faith. It came out so low, so raw. She had never heard herself sound like that before. From the look Buffy gave her, she had never heard it, either.
“Jonathan, the thing.”
Jonathan produced a small silver ball. Faith turned to Buffy, about to tell her to cover her eyes, but he had already activated it. Except… it wasn’t the same flash of light as last time. It flickered and sputtered. It emitted a couple of perfect yellow sparks, and then died. Warren and Jonathan exchanged horrified looks.
Faith, who had now made the connection between that thing and what happened, took a step forward. Warren and Jonathan both took steps back.
“What the fuck is that thing?”
“Jonathan, do a spell.” Warren muttered. He thought it was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear him. She did.
“I don’t have a spell that can fight off a Slayer.” Jonathan said back.
“Then power up the thing.”
“Shut up.” They were backing away from her slowly, but Faith was done playing games. Her arm hurt, her chest hurt, everything hurt. Her whole day was gone, and all she could hear in her head was Warren’s voice, burrowing into her brain. She was beyond angry. She thought that she had known anger before when Buffy had betrayed her, when she had woken up from that coma, when she had wandered around Los Angeles lost in her own rage and grief. But that was a different beast. That anger was slow and toxic, sucking her down like a tar pit. This anger was like rage incarnate, fiery and all-consuming. She could barely see through it, barely think through it. “What the fuck is that thing? Tell me, or I cut the knowledge out of your fucking brain stems.”
“Faith!” cried Buffy. Faith hadn’t realized she was still here. She turned, so angry she could hardly breathe, but her anger faltered at the sight of Buffy’s battered face, the thin bloody line on her neck.
“B, they controlled me. They tried to make me kill you.”
“Kill her?” Jonathan looked over at Warren. “You were just supposed to fight her. Make her believe you betrayed her so you would leave. No one was supposed to die.”
All eyes went to Warren. He smirked, which Faith thought was a remarkably arrogant thing for him to do considering she was two seconds away from snapping his neck.
“Jonathan’s right. We only told you to fight her. I mean, I guess we should have specified that you shouldn’t kill her.” His eyes slid over to Buffy. “Not looking so bad now, are we, Slayer?”
“You told me to kill her.” Faith snarled. “I remember it.”
“You don’t know what you remember.” Warren sneered. “And unless you’re gonna kill us, we’re gonna leave.”
“No, you're not." Faith lunged for Warren. He grabbed Jonathan by the arm, grinned at her, and then they both disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Faith reeling and screaming their names into the ground.
"Warren! Jonathan! Get back here!"
"Faith-"
"I'm gonna kill them. I'm gonna fucking kill them. I-" she turned to Buffy, "I can't kill them, can I."
"Faith." Buffy repeated. She took a step forward, eyes locked on Faith's. Faith let out a long exhale. They were gone. Whether or not she was going to kill them for what they had done to her, she wasn't going to do it tonight.
“B, I didn’t want to kill you. I swear.”
“They really mind controlled you?” asked Buffy.
“Yeah.”
“Gross.”
Faith let out a ragged laugh. It almost sounded like a sob. “Yeah.”
“And they told you to kill me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shit. Well... I guess this means they’re officially a problem.”
“Good,” said Faith grimly. “Because the next time I see Warren’s smug little face, I’m gonna kill him.”
“They’re not that kind of problem.”
“They controlled me.”
“They’re human.”
Faith let out an irritated sigh and sat down on the ground with her head in her hands. “I fucking hate being good.”
Buffy nodded wearily and sat down next to her. “Look, I didn’t just come here because you called. I also came here to apologize.”
That got Faith’s attention. “About what?”
“You were right about Willow. Partially. I still don’t think being a good friend is ‘coddling’ her, but you made some good points. I talked to Tara. She said this has been going on a lot longer than we thought. We’re gonna try to help Willow quit the stuff. Magic, I mean.”
Faith nodded. That argument felt like so long ago. She wasn’t even mad at Willow anymore. Not that she ever really had been. When it came down to it, losing control was the one thing she understood more than anything else. She had really been angry about how everyone had acted afterwards. The injustice of it all. She remembered how she had blamed Buffy for Allan Finch’s death, because she knew Giles would go easier on Buffy. Nothing bad would happen to perfect little Buffy. She was starting to understand that feeling again.
“I should have done this three years ago." said Buffy quietly. Faith turned, sure she couldn't have heard Buffy right. "What?"
“After Allan Finch. After everything. I was scared. We both were. I withdrew. I tried to get Angel to take care of you instead. And I think… I think he could have gotten through to you, I really do. But I was there. And now that I’m doing this all over again, for Willow… but it’s even worse this time, because if you were human, you would have died. If you were Dawn… Allan Finch’s death was a tragedy, but I didn’t know him. I was upset because I felt guilty. But if Willow killed you or Dawn or someone else I loved, I don’t think I ever would have forgiven her. Even now, I don’t know if I can. And I'm still there for her.” She paused, and looked at Faith. "If I had been there for you like I am for her, do you think things would be different?"
It was a question Faith had asked herself a dozen times over. She was never sure about the answer. It was a hypothetical battle of wills, really. Who's stubbornness would win out in the situation, hers or Buffy's? But she couldn't focus on any of that right now. Not when Buffy had said-“‘Someone else you loved’?” Faith echoed. It was a stupid thing to get hung up on. It was so stupid. She was talking about Dawn, not Faith. She had never loved Faith. Of course not. That’s why she was looking at Faith with those big eyes, practically pleading with her not to make her say it.
“You’re my friend, Faith. Of course I care about you.”
They were sitting so close to each other, Faith realized. Buffy’s face was inches from hers. Of course I care about you.
“Still?” Faith whispered. “After everything?”
“It’s not like it was. But you get me. And I…” her eyelids fluttered, just like Dawn’s did when she was about to cry. “You just get me. You always have.”
Faith thought that was true. But apparently not, because people who 'get' someone else can usually tell when that someone is about to kiss them. But she had been looking Buffy straight in the eye, reading every emotion that crossed her face, and there was no part of her that knew Buffy was going to lean in and kiss her until it happened.
Faith thought that she must be dreaming at first, but she’d never had a dream about Buffy this realistic. She could taste the sweat and blood on her lips. She could feel Buffy against her, sturdy but supple. It was a gentler kiss than she’d ever had before, softer than she usually liked. But somehow, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
For that moment, there was nothing else. It was just her and Buffy, sitting in the cemetery, exchanging sweet kisses like they had never gotten to do when they were younger, when their relationship wasn’t so tangled and messed up. Then Buffy pulled away, and for the second time that night, everything came rushing back.
Faith remembered how she felt about Buffy. She remembered the love and the hate, the yearning and the jealousy. It was all intermingled around that kiss. She wanted more. She wanted to run away. Buffy was staring at her with a mortified expression, like she wasn’t sure what she had just done. Faith could see that she was about to run away, and thought that if Buffy did that to her after they kissed, it would kill her. So she did it first. She scrambled to her feet, stammered out a hasty, “I--I can’t do this right now,” and then ran back to her motel room and prayed that when she woke up, she would find out this whole day was a dream.