Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I love you more.
– The Beatles, “In My Life”

Faith took the plate Buffy was handing her and wiped at it with her dish cloth. When the plate was dry, she stacked it in the cupboard with the others. Without really thinking about it, she took the next from Buffy. Soon, it too was stacked in the cupboard.

“I never thought you'd have this many dishes. You're not exactly the domestic type, you know.” Buffy said casually as she began washing another plate.

“I learned it from your Mom. I really was paying attention.”

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, well, you're going to need it.” Buffy grinned as the cat jumped up on the counter separating the small kitchen from the rest of the house. The animal began to purr as it rubbed its head against Faith's back. Buffy nodded toward the cat. “House guests have the strangest effect on people. You got a name for it, yet?”

“No, not yet. I haven't looked at its collar.” Faith turned her back to the cabinet and scanned the rest of the apartment. “Hey... wasn't all this stuff packed up?”

Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, but I don't need it anymore, so I'm giving it back to you. Don't worry, I'm sure someone will help you get moved in.”

Faith nodded and turned back to the dishes. As she put the last plate on the stack, she noticed that it hadn't got any taller. She turned to her companion, who was drying her hands. “Hey, B. Tell me something. Why are we always doing housework when we have these little talks?”

“Come on, Faith... this is a dream. It’s all symbolic. You know, Jungian this and Freudian that and cigars that really are cigars. You'll figure it out...”

Xander was still fumbling with the house keys when the door in front of him abruptly opened. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the older woman who'd unexpectedly opened the door.

You're staring like an idiot. Say something! The thought was automatic. “Uh... hi!” he finally managed to get out. “Um. I didn't think --”

The woman returned his stare. “May I help you?” She had a slight Spanish lilt to his voice, and was wearing a light blue uniform that Xander's mind finally identified as one of the common variations on the basic black maid's uniform, worn by domestics across the country.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” You already said that, Xander. “I'm, uh, Xander Harris.” He held up the keys. “I guess, uh, this is my house now. I inherited it from --”

“Oh yes! Mister Harris! Yes, the lawyer lady said you would be here today. Come in! Come in!” The woman stepped back and gestured him inside. A bit kindlier and a lot more sheepishly than she had answered the door, the maid continued. “The lawyer-lady said that until you make a decision about us still working here, we should just keep working. My name is Sofia, I am the maid. I was just dusting the library.” The woman smiled widely at Xander, and he noted it was a friendly smile, though there was something wrong with the woman's teeth.

“Ah. Okay, sure. Um.” No one had told him that the mayor had a domestic staff, but when he thought about it made sense. “Well, let me meet everybody, but I, uh, I guess that wouldn't be too bad. If none of you are evil, right?” He gave the woman a nervous chuckle.

“Oh no, Mister Harris. We're not evil here. No evil. Not anymore. I mean, yes, Mister Wilkins, he was evil, but he's gone now. Come on, I'll take you back to meet Valentina and Rosa. Valentina is the cook, though since Mister Wilkins died she's just been cooking for us. Oh, and Rosa is new. She is the nurse the lawyer-lady hired to take care of Miss Faith. So sad, what happened to Miss Faith.”

The maid had just started down the hallway, but suddenly stopped. “You are the boy who got Miss Faith in the family way, yes? You better be a good boy. Take care of your responsibilities. Miss Faith, she was good to us, before.” The woman gave him a semi-hostile look, and Xander suddenly realized that the statement about his responsibilities was a question.

“Uh, yeah. I'm here to look after faith, and to take care of our baby once its born.” He tried to put as much sincerity and determination into his words as possible.

Sofia stared at him a moment before smiling. “Good. I am glad to hear that there are still good, honorable men in this world.” Again, she smiled, and again it struck Xander as slightly strange-looking. As he followed the maid down the hallway toward the back of the house, he glanced to the side where a clean, desperately appointed living room sat empty. It was clear no one came into unnecessarily. Next to the living room was a set of stairs leading to a loft he could barely see.

The entire house looked more like a museum than a place people lived. He couldn't remember his parents’ house being this clean ever. In fact, the state the house was in made him nervous. He just wasn't that organized and if he lived here in the – HOLY JESUS HER TEETH WERE POINTED LIKE A FREAKING PIRANHA'S!

Xander stopped in his tracks and stared at the back of Sofia's head.

Sofia must have heard him come to an abrupt halt. She turned around and smiled nervously. “Is there something wrong, Mister Harris?”

“Uh. Um.” He looked at her and really looked this time. The woman's eyes were a golden red in color, and her mouth was just a bit too wide. But otherwise, she looked like any random Hispanic maid you might find working anywhere in California. “You're – Oh God, please don't kill me – you're a demon, aren't you?”

The maid let out the breath she'd been holding and again smiled sheepishly. “Oh, that. Well, not totally. My grandfather, he was Respik, and you know mi madre she was a half, so I'm just a quarter Respik.” Sofia shrugged. “Was it my thumbs? Did my thumbs give it away?” The woman held up a hand and spread her fingers. It took Xander a moment to realize her thumbs were on the outside edge of her hand, away from her body, rather than on the inside edge like a human being's would be.

“Uh, no... it was your teeth.”

Sofia nodded. “Yes, that happens sometimes. People, they look at our teeth and think we are cannibals or something. Respiks are fish-eaters, so we have fish-eating teeth.” The maid playfully snapped said teeth together with an audible 'clack'. “Good for picking meat from small bones. Do not worry, Mister Xander. We're harmless. And all three of us, we think this is a good thing, what you do.”

“Three of you?”

“Yes, Mister Xander. All three of us are Respiks.” She smiled and nodded, then turned to the door. “So, let's go meet Valentina and Rosa.” She turned like nothing had happened and continued down the hall.

Xander shook his head, but he followed her.

The kitchen was bigger than he thought it was. Of course, he was basing it on the confined space that was his parents' kitchen. On the contrary, this room was wide-open, with lots of counter-space and wide windows that let in plenty of sunlight. It was decorated in cheerful yellows and tans, and seemed to have all the latest gizmos and tools might want. At one of the counters, a young lady in a white chef's coat was busily chopping carrots into circles on a white plastic cutting board. A large saucepan, in which something golden brown was simmering, was on the stove next to her.

When Xander walked in with Sofia, the chef stopped, waiting for someone to say something.

“Uh. Smells good!” Xander said, not sure where to begin. “So, uh, what are you making?” He leaned over the back of the stove to peer into the pot. It contained several different types of chopped vegetables that were seething in some sort of oil. “You making soup?”

“It’s a seafood chowder.” The chef, Valentina, turned to him as she finished and smiled. Like Sofia, she had the needle teeth and odd-sided thumbs of a Respik demon. “Nice to meet you.” The chef held out a plastic-gloved hand in a fist. Xander wondered for a moment, then got it. “So, uh, fist-bump instead of shaking. Keeps your gloves clean?”

“Every little bit helps, sir. Nice to meet you. We can talk later about any preferences for dinner you have. Also, I'm going to need to know if you have any food allergies. And should I call you Xander or Mister Harris?”

“Yeah. Beets. I'm allergic to beets.” Xander took another look at the soup, picturing it completed. “I mean, like, full-bore death allergy to beets. Even touching beets; it acts like I've touched poison ivy. And just call me Xander.”

“Okay,” the chef smiled. “Good. Xander it is. So – “ she pointed at the sauce pot. “It’s going to have salmon and shrimp and clams in it. Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah. That sounds really, really good.” Xander smiled at the girl. “Your name was Valentina?” At the chef's nod, Xander smiled again. “Great! I look forward to getting to know you better.” Xander nodded at the chef again as she resumed cooking. He followed the maid, Sofia, out of the kitchen and back into the hall.

“So, Mister Xander, are you going to be moving in today?” Sofia smiled as they walked. This time she kept her lips closed over her teeth. Xander appreciated the gesture.

“Uh, yeah. That's my plan. I've, uh, got my stuff in the car.” Xander shrugged. He followed it up with a sotto voce, “Otherwise I'd be stuck with my parents for another day, and no one wants that.” The maid smiled at him again, showing that she heard him despite not wanting to broadcast his thought.

“Do not worry, Mister Xander. We will get you all set up. It is your house now, after all. “ She waved toward the sun room at the end of the hall. “Miss Faith, she is in there with Rosa, the nurse. I'm going to go and open your bedroom. Get some air flowing. Make sure it is not dusty.”

Xander entered a large room that seemed to take up the entire back end of the house. Large bay windows were evenly spaced, letting in enough natural light that the overheads weren't needed. Most of the room was taken up by the medical equipment. Faith, in her hospital bed, and surrounded by the various monitors and pumps and readouts and ventilators, was at center stage.

Xander couldn't get over how fragile she looked. How helpless she looked. He knew he should hate her for what she did to Buffy – to all of them, really – but he couldn't. Whatever possessing force that had turned Faith away from them, whatever had captured the girl's soul and led her to Mayor Wilkins was gone. It just wasn't there anymore. All that was here, now, was the sad, broken shell of a girl.

He also couldn't help but feel protective of her. It wasn't in his nature to attack the helpless. Long nights of soul-searching had convinced Xander that Angelus had been right, the time the vampire had sneeringly labeled Xander 'Buffy's White Knight'. It was true. If someone needed help, he'd help them. There was no alternative. The nurse, Rosa – who looked enough like Sofia the maid that the two of them might as well be twins – smiled and ducked her head once at him.

“Hello, Mister Xander, sir. We were expecting you. The lawyers called and said you would be here today. And here you are! I am Rosa. I am a registered nurse, and will be taking care of Miss Faith, under Doctor Welner's supervision. Doctor Welner, he's at Sunnydale General.” The nurse looked around, obviously trying to find something to talk about. Xander ended the awkward silence by approaching Faith's bed. He gently brushed a stray hair from her forehead, and his fingertip lingered on the skin next to her ear. “Do you have any questions?

“How.” He coughed once. “How is she?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Her pulse and blood pressure are good. She's lost some weight, but that is to be expected. I fed her about two hours ago. Her next feeding isn't for a while yet. And I, um... I changed her recently as well before giving her a bath.”

“Changed her?”

“She's – well – for her bodily functions, Mister Xander.”

“Oh. Right.”

The nurse stared at him for a silent moment. “Mister Xander, you should know this. It’s important you know this. Miss Faith, she is a sweet girl. She was a sweet girl before. Didn't deserve what happened to her. The Alcalde, he was not a righteous man. A very good boss, but not a good man. He twisted her up bad. With everything that happened to her, it wasn't her fault. Not really. She – she had problems.”

Xander nodded. He pulled the stool next to Faith's bed and held her hand. “I know.”

And time passed, as time always does.

Xander sat next to Faith's bed. The only light in the room was the lamp over his shoulder and the softer lights hanging over Faith's bed. The room was never completely in darkness, but there was enough shadow present so that, if he pretended at least, it looked like Faith was just sleeping. There was a book in his hands, and he was reading from it out loud.

"So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one, all waved me good-bye. They jumped into my cars and drove away under the smoke-smuggered stars. Now all that was left 'neath the bad-smelling sky was my big empty factory, the Lorax, and I. The Lorax said nothing. Just gave me a glance – just gave me a very sad, sad backward glance as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants. And I'll never forget the grim look on his face when he heisted himself and took leave of this place, through a hole in the smog, without leaving a trace. And all that the Lorax left here in this mess was a small pile of rocks, with one word..."

"Unless."

Xander shot to his feet and whirled, shocked by the intrusive voice that had come out of nowhere. His heart beat like a snare drum. Sofia had taken Valentina home hours ago; the maid had promised that they'd be back extra-early in the morning to help him with the party he was throwing for Willow the next day, and Rosa had just left. Other than the still-comatose Faith, he was supposed to be alone in the house.

Buffy was standing in the doorway, watching him. It took a moment for Xander's body to come down out of fight-or-flight mode. He didn't quite leave it completely. The last time Xander spoke to Buffy or Willow, there had been a blow-up over Faith. Willow, rather selfishly, thought Xander should dump her in a nursing home and then basically return to life as normal – barring a few changes, like getting out from under his parents. Buffy had been less adamant about it, but wasn't against the idea of Xander just abandoning his charge in a hospital. It was when Willow started making comments about how Faith was a whore and who really knew who fathered the kid on her that Xander lost it.

For the first time in his entire life, he'd yelled at Willow. Screamed at her, even. And tossed her out of his house and out of his life. He was still trying to figure out how to fix things without backing down from his decisions to care for Faith and his child. Buffy had followed Willow out. That had been four months ago. Since then, he'd seen Buffy and Willow here and there around town occasionally. Usually at this or that fast food joint, or at a book store, or out at the mall. But he'd never had the guts to approach them and talk. He'd been too scared of the possible fall-out if the fight continued. He'd kept a tenuous contact with Giles and Mrs. Summers, but even that had been strained.

“Hey, Buffster.” Xander forced himself to calm down. It was just Buffy. He could trust Buffy. He kept telling himself that as he watched her. He could trust Buffy.

"Sorry about that, Xan. The, uh, the nurse let me in. Said you be back here." Buffy said as she slowly approached. She was moving gingerly, as if she was afraid to scare him off. “I think the nurse is a Raspik demon. Is she a Raspik demon?”

Xander laughed, once. It was a nervous laugh. “Yeah. So's the maid and the cook. They're good people. They take good care of us.”

“I, uh, I've heard that. Raspik's I mean. Good, um, people.” Buffy nodded. She glanced at the book where Xander had dropped it, then quickly leaned over and picked it up and handed it back to him. "Doctor Seuss. One of his best, too. I memorized The Lorax when I was eight or nine. Love this book."

To his eyes, Buffy looked tired. She seemed to carry a burden about her that wasn't there the last time they'd spoken. Her eyes traveled to the other Slayer; Faith had the gaunt look all coma patients had, as well as the washed out look of someone who normally wore a lot of makeup but now was going without. Add in the visible baby bump, and... "She hardly looks like herself anymore. How is she doing?"

"According to Doctor Welner, she's doing fine other than, you know, being in a coma." He gestured with the book and smiled, sheepishly. "He tells me there's no way she can actually hear me, but I don't care. I like reading to her. And, uh, since I'm also reading to the baby, I figure why not start his education out right with the classics."

“Sounds great.” Buffy seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “Xander, me and Willow, we were talking, and a question sort of came up. I don't want you to take this the wrong way. We think it’s great what you're doing here, but what – “ She paused, and Xander could tell she was worrying over her next words. “What are your plans for when if wakes up?”

“When she wakes up,” Xander began, putting all emphasis on the word, “I'll be there to help her get back on her feet. Introduce her to her son, if she wakes up after he's born. Try and make her see that she's not going to be handed over to the cops or the Feds or the Watchers.” He looked down at Faith. He wasn't conscious of it, but his face changed when he did. He didn't see Buffy's look of surprise at his new expression, either. “I want her to know – know, Buffy, deep in her bones – that there's someone there sticking up for her. Someone who, you know, cares about her. Cares about what happens to her.”

Buffy just nodded, still staring at his face. After a moment of not hearing an audible reply, Xander looked up at her. Buffy smiled. “I understand, and that's great. But what if...” It was clear that she didn't want to continue.

“What if she's psycho-Faith?”

Buffy just nodded.

Xander sighed. “Well, I'm going to burn that bridge when I get to it. I don't really know yet. Who knows. I'm just going to try and be there for her and for our son.”

Buffy's forehead creased. “Do you love her?”

“No. I dunno. Maybe.” Xander rubbed at the back of his head. “I'm not, like, in love with her, if that's what you're asking. But yeah, maybe I love her. I care about her, that's the important part. She's having my kid, and despite everything she said, there was a connection. So...” He ended it with a shrug.

They were quiet again.

“And, uh, 'he?' You said he?” Buffy broke the silence.

“That's what the doctor tells me.” Xander wasn't looking at Buffy, but rather was staring at Faith. Buffy began to think that her friend had forgotten she was there.

“Got any names picked out?”

“Not yet. I've been – not really. Maybe a couple. I, um, I've got a list of possibilities somewhere around here. Just, you know, playing with it.”

“Right.” Buffy crossed to him and took him into her arms for a deep, long hug. The hug between people who were siblings in all but name. “I think he could do worse than be Alex Jr.”

“Yeah, well, I dunno. Seems sort of – I always thought that people who named their kid after themselves were sort of self-centered or conceited or something.” Xander shrugged. “What do you think of Jared?”

“It’s a good name. A strong name. Good name for a boy.” Buffy pulled the other stool over and sat, and Xander returned to his own seat. “And you could definitely do worse. I mean, imagine naming him Rupert or Wesley.”

Xander chuckled. “Nah. Those are way to tea-and-crumpets for me.”

“Well, you could always go Irish, and name him Patrick.” Buffy grinned. “Faith's Irish, right? I think she said once that she was 'Southie from Bah-stun.'” Xander smiled when Buffy nailed Faith's accent perfectly. “It'd only be natural to give him a good traditional Bahstun Irish name.”

“Patrick might work, too.”

Everything fell quiet again. They both kept glancing around the room, trying to not talk about the elephant in the room. “Other than doing some Seuss therapy, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Um. Taking care of the house. I'm having a back deck put in with a pool. Going to have a chair swing put in it and a ramp, just in case she needs to relearn how to walk. It'll be good therapy for her when she – um, yeah.” Xander shrugged. “I, uh, talked to some investment people. Get the money working for me, you know. And, uh, I've had them set up some funds. You know, um, college money. For the baby. And for --” he broke off, swinging a hand in Faith's general direction.

“You're really sure she's going to wake up some day.” Buffy's smile was tight, and her eyes were shiny. It took Xander a moment to realize she had tears in her eyes.

“Yeah.” He shrugged again. “I sort of have to.”

They were quiet again. Both watched Faith's ventilator keep her breathing. Up and down, in and out. The rest of the machinery made quiet beeps. Regular beeps.

“I miss – we, Willow and me – we miss you, Xander.” Buffy wiped at the tears on her face. “It has been so hard without you there. I don't know if I can do it anymore, and Willow is on the verge of melting down.”

“What happened?” Xander asked, shocked.

“There was this vampire who – Sunday, her name was Sunday, and she nearly beat me. She made me feel like the lowest of the low. Like I wasn't good enough for anything. And she nearly beat me.” Buffy took a long shuddering breath. “I don't know how – I was an inch away from being staked with my own stake when Giles rushed in at the last minute and saved me.”

“But you got her. You're here and she's not, right?” Xander moved next to Buffy and drew her into a hug. He pulled the Slayer onto his lap. At first, she resisted, but not hard enough to stop him. She allowed him to cuddle her to him.

“Yeah. But that's not all. It turned out that my roommate, Cathy, was evil. She was so, so sweet and wholesome with her Celine Dion music and her anal-retentive personal hygiene habits and her labeling everything in the snack fridge. She complained about me. Got me tossed out of the freshman dorm. I had to move back in with Mom.”

“Wow. That's harsh.”

“Yeah. Harsh is a good word for it, Xander.” Xander felt Buffy take a long, deep breath. “And then there was...” Buffy trailed off. And then the gates opened and the sobbing started. By the time Buffy caught her breath again, Xander was rubbing her back, gently.

“What was that about?”

“Huh?” Buffy looked up at him. He smiled down at her as she wiped her face off on his shirt. That was perfectly fine, as it was already soaked through from her crying anyway. “What?”

“What else is wrong? One vampire – even one vampire that almost beat you. That's not enough to have you feeling like this. What else happened?”

Buffy's face closed down. “I can't – I don't want. Xander, no, it’s nothing. I just trusted the wrong person, that's all. They made me trust them, then turned out to be untrustworthy. I should have been smarter than I was and paid for it.”

“Okay.” Xander rubbed her back. “What happened?”

“Xander, I – “

“How'd they let you down?”

Buffy was quiet for a long time. “Xander, is there something wrong with me?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would you think that?”

“There was – there was this guy. Named Parker. I let him – he – there was...” She stopped clearly not able to finish. Xander understood immediately.

“You slept with him?”

“Yeah.” Buffy smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “At first, he was all nice, and then when he never called back I thought something was up, but I found him with another girl. And he was saying the same things to her as he said to me.” Buffy sobbed again. “I feel so dirty.”

“Oh, Buffy, no.” Xander shook his head and hugged her to him harder. “Let me guess. He acted like Mr. Sensitive and was all reluctant and pretended to be everything you wanted.” He felt Buffy nod. “And then he let you think you were seducing him, right?” Another nod. “And you're wondering what you did wrong for him to treat you that way.” A third nod. Xander sighed. He'd watched Devon Parish work that same con on Aura White, one of Cordelia's brood of loyal followers.

“Is this what happens? Am I cursed? Is the guy going to go all evil every time I sleep with someone?”

Xander couldn't help it. He laughed. He stopped it as quickly as he could, but he laughed nevertheless.

“It’s not funny, Xander.” That just caused him to laugh again. “It's not!”

“You're absolutely right.” Xander said, forcing his face into some resemblance of solemnity. “The situation isn't funny at all. I'm not laughing at you, Buffy. I just thought what you said was – you know what? Never mind.” He gave her another hug. “I promise you, it won't always be like that. You've just had a run of really bad luck, is all.”

She shook her head a little and cuddled closer into his chest. “I don't know, Xan. Bad luck just happens. This – I made this happen.”

“Yeah, but that was your choice. I mean, if it’s what you want, and if you're safe about it, why shouldn't you sleep with whoever you want to sleep with, right?” He smiled down at her again and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. A sudden thought had him concerned. “It was safe, right, Buff?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, it was safe. That's not it.”

“Okay, so what is it?”

“It’s just – “ Buffy took a deep breath and sighed. “I thought, I mean, I thought I was breaking away, you know? From Angel. There I was, not being hung up about Angel anymore. Finding someone new. But I was stupid.”

“No, you were inexperienced. There's a difference.” Xander sighed. “Next time you'll know better. That's all you can do. It’s okay to make mistakes, Buffy. Just learn from them.”

“Parker said that.” Buffy closed her eyes and leaned into him.

“What?” Xander asked. She didn't answer. “Buffy? What did Parker say?”

“He said it was okay to make mistakes.” Buffy sighed again. “It was kind of sweet.”

“It was kind of manipulative, is what it was.” Xander shook his head. “He said it because he's shallow and only after one thing.” Buffy's breathing was growing more and more regular and shallow, and he realized she was falling asleep on him. He wondered for a moment whether he should wake her.

“Xander, why didn't he want me?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You'd tell me if there was something repulsive about me, right? You'd tell me?”

“Yeah, Buffy, I'd tell you.” Very carefully, he stood. Just as carefully, he adjusted her weight in his arms. She was asleep, and asleep he could see just how exhausted she must have been. He gave Faith a lingering glance, then looked back down at Buffy.

“Let's get you settled, Buff.” He shuffled her in his arms long enough to turn off the reading light, then carried her toward one of the guest rooms.

Faith sat, watching the television. It was some Masterpiece Theater thing. A story of some knight in a slightly tarnished but nevertheless still-shiny suit of armor coming to the rescue of a fair maiden. It had the entire ladies in waiting, riding on horseback, Holy Grail thing going for it. Earlier it had been a cartoon. Faith thought she recognized it as one of the Doctor Seuss stories. Or maybe Peanuts. It had a little orange guy in it, anyway. Talking about dancing trees and singing fish and dancing bears.

Idly, Faith stroked the fur of the cat on her lap. It had jumped up onto her as soon as she sat down and settled into her lap, like it belonged there. She didn't have the heart to move it, and it was purring, so her petting it was a foregone conclusion.

“Have you thought of a name for it?” Buffy shoved a mouthful of popcorn into her mouth, her eyes never leaving the television screen.

“What?” Had Buffy just been sitting there next to her all along? Faith couldn't tell.

“Your passenger there.” Buffy's eyes cut over to the cat, then back to the screen. “Have you named him yet?”

“Not yet.” Faith continued to pet the cat, who was pressing into her hand with every stroke. “But now that you mention it, what do you think of Jared?”

“It’s a good name. A strong name. Good name for a boy.” Buffy nodded. “And you could definitely do worse. I mean, imagine naming him Rupert or Wesley.”

“Nah. Those are way to tea-and-crumpets for me.”

“Well, you could always go Irish, and name him Patrick.” Buffy grinned. “You're Irish, right? A Southie from Bah-stun? It'd only be natural to give him a good traditional Bahstun Irish name.” Faith rolled her eyes as Buffy just smirked. She gave Buffy a friendly shove on the shoulder, then returned her attention to the television. The cat got up from Faith's lap and moved to Buffy's. Faith watched Buffy stroke the cat, doing it just as unconsciously and automatically as she had.

“This is a really good movie. It’s a good thing when the good guys are good guys.” Buffy grabbed another mouthful of popcorn.

Faith nodded. “He really is a White Knight, isn't he?”

“He's got a big heart.” Buffy held the bowl out to Faith.

“Big enough for all three of us.” Faith reached up and stroked Buffy's hair. “I've been worrying about that, you know.”

“Worrying about what?”

“Sometimes we miss the things that were in front of us all time.” Faith sighed. She looked around the apartment. “We were always at sixes and sevens with each other. And I'm afraid there's no White Knight for me.” Faith turned to Buffy and looked deep into the blonde girl's eyes. “Will you come back and see about me?”

“Don't worry, Faith. Think of all the things we were working out.” Buffy leaned over, careful to not spill the popcorn, nor drop the cat, and kissed Faith gently on the lips. “We won't forget about you.”

“I have a feeling – in the end, I mean.” Faith turned to Buffy and smiled. For the first time, Faith addressed the other girl by name. “Buffy?”

“Yeah, Faith?”

“Did you know that Xander keeps an aluminum baseball bat under the front seat of his car?“

Buffy woke abruptly. She was unsure where she was at first. The room was clean but bare. It was painted a uniform beige. The only color was the mint green comforter she had been tucked under. Buffy lifted the comforter's edge. She was still dressed, excepting her shoes and socks. The room faced south, and the morning sun wasn't direct, but the window still did a good job at lighting up the room. And the bed was sinfully comfortable. She sat up and immediately spotted her pumps next to the bed. She could see her ankle-socks stuffed into the heels for easy access.

“Xander's house. Oh yeah.” Buffy nodded to herself. The previous evening's discussion came to her in a rush. She hadn't been sure why she came to Mayor Wilkins – no, Xander's – house, but it seemed a good idea at the time. And now she was sure of it. She felt surprisingly lighter than she had last night. It felt good, finally getting it off her chest, and the things he'd told her, they just felt right.

She pulled her socks on and picked up her shoes. A quick, sloppy bed-making, and she was quietly out the door. Buffy looked around, and finally figured out which way was the front door. No one else seemed to be around.

This proved to be untrue. Buffy stepped out onto the upper landing of the staircase, only to be spotted by the maid, who was dusting in the room below. The maid gave her a nervous smile and bowed, slightly.

“Miss Buffy? I am Sofia. I am Mister Xander's housekeeper. He said you stayed for the night.” She smiled wider, but it was a closed-mouthed smile. She was still clearly nervous. “Mister Xander, he had some business to take care of, but asked if you could stay until he got back. He told Valentina to make you whatever you want for breakfast. Will you follow me, please?”

“Sure! Breakfast sounds good.” She came down the stairs, nodding to the maid. “It’s nice to meet you. I guess you know who I am.”

“Oh yes. You are El Elegido. Everyone in my family know who you are.” The maid smiled again. “We no hurt no one, and are good people.”

“I'm sure. Xander wouldn't let you work you otherwise. Don't worry. I'm not slaying anybody today.” Sofia seemed to relax audibly at that.

She followed the maid into the kitchen. The chef was busy at a cutting board, slicing potatoes thin. When she saw Buffy, the chef smiled, then scraped the potatoes into a large bowl of water. “Good morning, Miss Summers. I'm a big fan. My name's Valentina.” She washed her hands, then grabbed a kitchen towel. “So, how's an omelet sound?”

“Sounds perfect. Can you do a western?”

“Pshaw! Can I do a western.” Buffy returned the woman's grin as she went to work. “Watch and learn, grasshopper!”

The maid came back into the room, carrying a folded sheet of paper. “Miss Buffy, Mister Xander, he left this for you.”

Buffy took the note and unfolded it.

Buffy,

Feel free to make yourself at home. There's a PlayStation in the den, along with a video player and a bunch of movies. Or you can watch TV or do anything really. I'll be back soon. I want to talk to you some more when I get back, so don't leave yet. We didn't cover everything last night, and I think there are still some things we need to discuss. Hey, if you want you can always read Faith the next book. I was thinking of starting on Charlotte's Web. I'll be back with some ice cream therapy and a couple of spoons.

I'll be back before you miss me.

It wasn't signed.

“Well, he says he'll be back soon. Had some business to take care of or something.” Buffy shrugged. “Where does Xander keep Faith's books? He asked me to start reading her the new one.”

“I'll show you after you eat your breakfast.” Sofia smiled in return. The maid nodded toward the cook, who had just turned to place the omelet in front of her. It was huge and beautiful, and the smell of it made Buffy's mouth water.

Xander smiled as he entered Kresge Hall, still amazed at how easy it had been. A quick application of just enough Benjamin Franklins printed on rectangular pieces of green paper, and the clerk at UC Sunnydale's housing office was all too eager to tell Xander just where Parker Abrams was dorming. Another small stack of Benjamins at the campus ID office got him a picture of the guy.

Xander took the stairs two at a time, and it took him just a couple of minutes to reach the third floor. “Okay, 309. 309. Where are you 309?” He scanned the door numbers as he walked, ignoring anyone walking past him who wasn't his target. “305, 307 – ah, here we are. Parker Abrams' room. We have a winner. And what has he won, Johnny?” Xander stepped back to let another kid walk past. The kid looked at Xander, and at the aluminum baseball bat Xander was carrying, but apparently decided Xander wasn't any of his business.

Xander brought his fist up. He pounded on the door loud enough to wake the drowsiest drunken college student. After a couple of minutes, the door cracked open, revealing a tall, dark-haired young man who'd obviously been shaken from sleep. “What the fuck do you want, dude?”

It wasn't Parker. Must be the roommate. “I need to talk to Parker, like yesterday.” Xander pushed past the roommate. “And you need to take a walk.”

“What? What the fuck do you –?”

Xander raised the bat, letting the business end of it come to rest against the kid's chest. “I said take a walk.” Xander didn't even look as the kid un-assed the room in a hurry. All he had eyes for was Parker Abrams. The young man in question was still asleep, half-wrapped around a girl who was clearly naked under the covers.

“Get up!” Xander called at the top of his lungs. “Out of bed, Abrams! Now!”

The girl shot up from sleep so quickly she nearly fell out of bed. Xander caught one of her arms and helped her stand. While Parker stared at him owlishly, Xander grabbed the girl's clothes and handed them to her, then pushed her into the room's closet as gently as he could.

“Get dressed, then get out.” Parker started forward to object, but stopped when Xander planted the bat in his gut and pushed Parker back onto the bed. “Don't feel bad. He was never going to call you, now that you gave him what he was after.” Xander's eyes never left Parker's. “He's slick like that. Aren't you, Parker?”

“What do you want? Who are you?”

“We're just going to talk about how you treat women. Especially how you treated one of my best friends. A nice private talk. Just you, me, and my bat.” Xander smiled at him. It wasn't a pleasant smile. “You listening, Parker?”