Chapter Text
August 1997
None of his time as a Watcher has prepared Giles for the moment when Willow practically yelled, “Could Faith be possessed?” For anybody to hear in the middle of the student lounge area.
Giles has no idea how he ended up in this position. He avoids the faculty lounge so as to not run into Faith’s new Watcher, and then he’s being ambushed by teenagers when he tries to get a soft drink from the vending machine.
Giles just blinks, listening to the rattle of his soda before it pops out of the machine. Then he looks at the children-- Willow and Xander-- staring up at him with faces mixed with concern and curiosity. “Possessed?”
“Maybe?” Willow wrings her hands together, her face pinched together in nerves. “I mean, it would certainly explain a lot.”
“Explain what?” He asks, genuinely confused, as he retrieves his drink. Sure, Faith seemed unusually motivated during practice yesterday, but he hadn’t noticed anything particularly wrong with her. And Buffy hasn’t said anything to him about it either, and she would definitely know if there was something to worry about.
Xander starts listing off, putting up one finger for every item, “The anger, the moodiness, the sarcasm--”
“You do realize that you are describing roughly the entire population of teenagers, right, Xander?” Giles asks drolly, giving the boy a tired look.
“And last night--” Willow cuts herself off, her cheeks going bright red, and Giles decides that he doesn’t need to know the details of whatever his surrogate niece is getting up to with her friends. “We just want to be cautious.”
Giles lets out a tired sigh as he looks at Willow. His skepticism aside, the girl has been quite helpful innumerable times in the past six months. If she believes that something may be wrong, it could be wise to look into it. “What do you suppose is the matter with Faith?”
“You're the expert,” Xander shrugs.
Giles shakes his head, popping the tab of his soda. “According to all of the Watcher Council’s records, it is exceedingly common for there to be growing pains when a new Slayer is Called. Especially in the… unorthodox way that it has occurred in this instance.” Hell, Giles still hasn’t fully recovered from Buffy’s death, and his life wasn’t fundamentally changed by it before she was resuscitated.
“Yeah, but what if she isn’t even the Slayer!” Xander theorizes, moving his hands as he speaks in a way that Giles thinks is incredibly dangerous to the general populace. “Maybe when the Master killed Miss Summers some... mystical bad guy transference thing happened.”
Giles opens his mouth to tell him all of the reasons that is, without question, wrong, when a figure standing behind the children catches his eye. “Er,” Giles clears his throat, trying to grab their attention.
“That's what it was!” Willow chimes in, “I mean, why else would she be acting like such a, um,” Willow hesitates suddenly, her gaze avoiding Giles’, before quickly finishing her sentence by spelling out, “B-i-t-c-h?”
“Willow,” Giles tries to interject. “I think--”
Xander asks, eyebrows furrowed, “A bitca?”
Giles is just about to facepalm at the boy’s folly, when a new voice enters the conversation. One that he’d been trying to warn the other two about. “I think what Willow’s trying, but lacks the stones to say is that I'm a bitch.”
Willow whirls around, eyes big and scared as she notices, “Faith--”
“Y’know, Wil, if you’re gonna shit talk me, at least give me the common courtesy to say it to my face.”
“We’re just worried about you,” Willow insists.
“Which is why you’re talking to Giles, and not me,” Faith says with a sardonic tilt of the head. “The person you claim to be worried about! With a friend like you, who needs enemies?”
“Okay, that's just about enough!” Xander interjects. Giles notices a few students watching them due to the raised voices. “Don’t take whatever’s going on with you out on Willow!”
“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that before you dragged her into this,” Faith sets her gaze on Xander, and, for a split second, Giles fears for the boy. “You think I don’t know why you’re suddenly so into thinking I’m, what was it you said? Going through a ‘mystical bad guy transference?’ if you think claiming that I’m possessed is gonna make us friends again, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Giles looks between the three kids. Faith and Xander, angry, and Willow sending a questioning look at Xander. He feels like he should, as the adult in this situation, and to a lesser extent technically being a member of faculty, step into the situation.
However, before he can, Faith sets her glare-- which looks scarily similar to her mother’s-- on him. “And you. You were just going along with them?” The look of betrayal in her eyes is so similar to that horrible day in the library when she’d overheard his conversation with Angel, that he feels his rationality curl up in a ball in the back of his mind and abandon him.
“Er,” Giles stutters, “They, uh- they ambushed me when I was getting a, uh,” He nervously holds up his soft drink, “Soda.”
“Way to hold strong, man,” Xander says sarcastically, giving Giles a non-gentle pat on the shoulder.
The bell, blessedly, rings at that moment. “This isn’t over.” Faith tells them all, before whirling on the heel of her black boots, and stalking off. Giles winces when he sees that she accidentally clips an approaching Snyder’s shoulder with her own.
“You finally see what we’re talking about?” Xander asks.
Before either Giles or Willow could say anything to that, Snyder approaches them. It might be the only time Giles has not dreaded seeing the man.
“I believe some of us have class?” Snyder pointedly looks at Willow and Xander, then turns his hateful gaze to Giles, “And some of us have jobs.”
“Y-yes, well, I'll, uh, I'll see the two of you, uh, in the library later,” Giles says to the children in farewell.
Willow nods, dragging Xander away with her. Giles hears Willow ask him as they walk away, “What did she mean about being ‘friends again?’ What did you guys talk about last night?”
That isn’t going to end well, Rupert thinks ruefully.
Snyder says, “There're some things I can just smell. It's like a sixth sense.”
“No, actually that would be one of the five.” Giles mutters as he takes a sip of his drink, but Snyder doesn’t seem to hear him.
“That Summers girl. I smell trouble, just like with her mother. I smell expulsion, and a strong scent of jail.”
“Well, before you throw away the key, you might consider giving her the benefit of the doubt,” Giles insists, perhaps a bit too heatedly. “Afterall, you were wrong about Buffy.”
“That remains to be seen,” Snyder sniffs, and then peers closely at Giles. “You really believe in those kids, don't you?”
“Yes, I do.” Giles nods.
Snyder wrinkles his nose at him, “Weird.”
She hears the bell ring, signalling the end of class, from all the way outside. However, Faith doesn’t move. She pulls out a new cigarette, takes one more puff of her last one, and then lights the new one with the ember of the old one.
“Don’t you want to get to class?” Amy asks, making sure to keep all of her clothing away from the dusty undersides of the sports stands. She’d gone looking for Faith at the last bell, after spending their entire math class with a belligerent Xander, and no Faith to act as a buffer.
“No, I’m still pretty pissed,” Faith answers. “But you can go if you want to.”
Amy shakes her head, waving her off. “Nah, I’m good. American Lit is our next class, and I know it’s only the third day of school, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. Breakman feeds on our pain and suffering.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Faith sighs.
After several minutes, Amy lets out a deep breath. “Okay, on a scale from, ‘later today’ to ‘never,’ when do you think you’re gonna be able to forgive Xander?”
Faith’s back tenses, and she glares at the only one of her friends she didn’t currently want to strangle. “What makes you think I’d forgive him by the end of the day?”
“Experience,” Amy says shortly, with a little shrug. “As long as I’ve known the guy, Willow’s literally never been able to stay angry with him for long. You know she yelled at him the day before, well,” At this, she actually gets a little sheepish, an emotion Amy never really wears, “You know, because he asked her out after you rejected him.”
Faith scoffs. “Of course he did.”
“Yeah. Then, by the end of the night, it was like it never happened.”
“Well, right now, I’m on the higher end of your spectrum.” Faith shakes her head, “Maybe entering ‘never ever’ territory if he keeps telling people I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit.”
Amy rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe they actually said something. I tried to tell them not to say anything, but y’know--”
“Wait,” Faith holds up her hand with the cigarette in it, the smoke wafting towards Amy and causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. “You knew about this whole ‘she’s not the Slayer, she’s just evil’ thing, and you didn’t try to stop them?”
“Well, I actually didn’t hear about the not-being-a-Slayer part, but I did try to tell them it was a bad idea,” Amy shrugs, “But what can you do? Xander doesn’t listen, and neither does Willow, when Xander asks her something. For someone so smart, she can be really stupid.”
“That’s how my parents describe me,” A new voice that wasn’t there before chimes in.
Faith and Amy whirl around to see someone new walking under the bleachers. Someone that Faith actually recognizes.
It’s her usual bleacher companion-- Faith doesn’t actually know his name. He’s quiet and skinny, and it took her weeks last semester to realize he was the same person every time because he always had a different hair color. Today he’s platinum blond, and is holding an acoustic guitar in his arms.
“Uh, hi,” Amy greets warily, with a small little smile.
“Hey,” Faith offers with a small nod. “You’re late.”
“I needed to get my one class in this semester,” He replies, dropping into the dirt, uncaring of how it affects his clothes. “You’re here early.”
“That I am.”
“You two know each other?" Amy asks.
“Sort of,” He answers, leaning one arm on the body of the instrument in his lap.
When it looks like nobody’s going to say anything else, Amy continues, “Er, well, I’m Amy.”
The corners of the guy’s lips quirk for a microsecond-- the most expression Faith has ever seen him exhibit before-- and he responds, “Oz.”
“Oz, right,” Amy cocks her head to the side, “Aren’t you in that band?”
“Dingoes Ate My Baby.”
“Huh?” Faith questions, eyebrows furrowed as she looks between the two of them.
“Dingoes Ate My Baby,” Oz repeats. “That’s the name of our band.”
“Oh,” Faith mutters, then her eyes go wide in realization, “You mean like that Merryl Streep movie?”
Both Oz and Amy’s eyebrows shoot up to their hairlines.
“There’s a movie?” Amy asks.
“You’ve seen that movie?” Oz questions.
Faith’s cheeks heat up, “My mom really likes Merryl Streep, okay?” She clears her throat, and focuses on the little weirdo who-- due to process of elimination-- she currently considers one of her best friends, “So your name’s Oz?” She tilts her head at him, eyes narrowing, “Is that a real name, or a nickname?”
“Bit of both,” He replies, lightly tapping his hands against the body of his guitar. “What about you?”
She tugs one corner of her mouth up into a smile, the best and most genuine she’s been able to manufacture all day, “I’m Faith.”
“Real name or nickname?”
She shrugs, “Bit of both.”
“What?” Amy leans forward. “What the hell is Faith short for?”
Faith lets out a long, harsh bark of laughter. “That is a secret I’m taking to my grave.”
Buffy strides into the library a few minutes before the end of the last period of the day.
She’d been wanting to talk to Giles about something she’d seen on patrol the previous night, but the work load was so intense that she hadn’t even gotten a proper lunch. There’d been only one fifteen minute break she’d gotten all day, and that was only because Cordelia Chase had missed their appointment.
But, that was okay, because the issue wasn’t exactly life or death. The random hole in the cemetery is probably nothing, despite the little voice in the back of her mind screaming that it’s something, and something bad.
(But, then again, that same voice told her it was a good idea to go after the Master, and look how that turned out.)
“Giles!” Buffy calls out, her heels clicking against the tiles of the floor. “You here?”
“What?” Giles pokes his head out of his office, face twisted in annoyance. However, once he catches sight of her, his entire body relaxes. “Oh, Buffy, it’s you.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” She asks, looking around the chronically empty library. The kids and her were pretty much the only ones to ever keep him company.
“Several people I would rather not see at the moment, if I’m being quite honest,” Giles responds, pushing his glasses up so that he can rub at his eyes. “Er, uh, what are you-- what are you doing here?”
“Well, I saw something really weird--” Buffy cuts herself off, watching her friend rub his eyes so violently he’s sure to be seeing stars, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Hmm?” Giles hums absentmindedly, still not taking his hands away from his eyes.
“You’re jumpy, and anxious, and obviously not listening to me,” Buffy cocks her head to the side, crossing her arms over her chest, “So, what’s up?”
“Erm, well, I’m--” Giles takes his hands away from his eyes. “I’m afraid there is a problem with the-- the-- the children.”
“What kind of problem?” Buffy asks, all thoughts about the empty grave fleeing her mind as the possibility of a real, tangible threat is introduced. “Are they alright? Is someone coming after them?”
“No! Nothing like that. It-- it is more a- a- a personal type of problem between Faith, Willow, and, uh, Xander.”
“Oh,” Buffy breathes, letting her shoulders relax minutely, but she’s definitely still on alert. Only this time, her Slayer Brain is taking a break, and her Mom Brain is in the forefront. “Why? What happened?”
“Well, Willow and Xander came up to me today, with the theory that Faith may have been possessed by some kind of… evil entity.”
Buffy scoffs, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, quite,” Despite the fact that he’s agreeing with her, Buffy is suspicious by the fact that Rupert is refusing to make eye contact with her. “However, I don’t think they’re off base to think that Faith may be acting differently.”
The bell rings, but neither of them pay it any mind, too focused on their conversation.
“That’s normal! Lord knows I’m not the same person that I was before I became the Slayer.”
“Yes, yes, I know that,” Giles sighs. “However, I fear that Faith’s problems might be even more mundane than that,” He peers closely at her, “Have you talked to her about her experience in the cave?”
Buffy flinches. She can’t help it. She’s never been good at failure, and the way she failed Faith-- in more ways than one-- is something she isn’t going to ever escape. “I’ve tried,” Her voice cracks, and she hates it. “She doesn’t want to talk about it.”
And there’ve been so many attempts at trying to get Faith to open up these last few months. Buffy knows from personal experience that finding your mother’s dead body isn’t something you just get over, but Faith just doesn’t want to talk. She evades questions and hides behind swagger until the conversation shifts to other topics— or, in the case of this morning, ignores Buffy altogether.
It is a harsh contrast to Dawn, who hasn’t been able to stop talking since she found out about vampires and Slayers.
One isn’t necessarily better or worse, and Buffy isn’t going to force her eldest to speak-- she’s been in that position before, and she never wants to do that to another human being, let alone her own daughter.
“She may not want to talk about it, but she needs to,” He is still talking. “You should make her--”
“Giles,” Buffy holds up her hand to halt him, “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not a parent. You don’t know anything about children…”
“Perhaps not,” Giles says, and she notices the way that his jaw tightens, bracing himself to say something she isn’t going to like, “But I have experience in acting out in my youth, and I don’t want that for Faith.”
“I think I have more of a handle on my daughter than your parents had on you.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Giles says, and Buffy’s hackles rise at the dubious tone in his voice.
She opens her mouth to speak-- she isn’t sure what she’s going to say, she’s just prepared to say it-- but before she can, the doors swing open, and Willow and Xander enter the library, neither looking very happy.
Buffy turns her back on Giles, effectively ending their previous conversation, and gives the newcomers a bright, forced smile. “Hi, kids.”
“Hi,” Willow squeaks, and Buffy sees the girl’s eyes fill with nerves.
And then Faith and Amy walk in. “Hey--” Faith greets, then stops in her tracks when she notices the other two teenagers. “Willow. Xander.”
All six of them stand in tense silence.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” Amy says sarcastically.
“How was your patrol last night?” Merrick asks Buffy as soon as he enters the library-- the last person to do so.
Buffy’d already said that this meeting had to be quick, since she has to pick Dawn up from school soon-- since, apparently, the twerp is allowed to be home alone at night, but still can’t walk herself home from school.
Faith wrinkles her nose at the mention of her mother going on patrol, but nobody seems to notice. Why should they notice her? She’s only a Slayer too, Merrick’s actual charge, and has just as much of a right to be out there as her mother does.
Of course, she’s the only person that this seems to occur to.
Buffy just answers with a small, stiff nod, “Uh, fine. I got about six vampires. Most of them were fledges. But then… At the end of my patrol last night, I was going down Main Street, and I found a huge, open… ditch in a cemetery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Giles asks Buffy, his brows drawn together, looking sore. Faith, unfortunately, understands how he’s feeling.
Buffy gives Giles a look that Faith can’t discern, and says, “I was trying to.” She has no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but Giles seems properly chastised.
“Okay, but,” Amy wrinkles her nose. “Vampires rising from their graves isn’t exactly a ‘strange occurence’ in Sunnydale.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a grave. There was no coffin. It was just a big hole at the base of some big tree in the cemetery, and it was very clearly dug into, not out of.”
Out of the corner of her eye, where Faith was very clearly trying not to look at her, she notices Willow stiffening. “Uh, did you… Did you say a tree?”
Faith thinks she might’ve been the only person to hear her, because Merrick just waves his hand, and says, “I’m sure it is just children pulling a prank.”
Amy cocks her head to the side, her face conveying puzzlement, “What is the end game supposed to be for that?”
“Uh,” Xander raises his hand, as if they were in class, and his face is pinched up in the way it usually is before he’s about to get a question wrong. “Uh, you said the hole was under a big tree? Was this empty hole, maybe,” He hesitates, “On the hill at Masonic Cemetery?”
Buffy blinks at him, and Faith feels some sort of bad, weird feeling in her stomach. Like her body is trying to tell her something that her mind has not quite caught up on.
“Yeah,” Buffy answers slowly, her eyes narrowing, “How do you know that?”
Giles, Willow, and Xander all share a look.
“Uh, Buffy,” Giles clears his throat, and looks very much like he wishes he wasn’t the person that has to speak, “The place that you are describing may be… Where we…” He gestures between himself and the terrible two, “Buried the Master’s bones.”
Faith’s lungs suddenly burn as if she’d inhaled too much-- Air. Too much air all at once.
“You… buried the Master’s bones,” Buffy says, her voice devoid of all emotion. It isn’t a question, but Faith still feels like it deserves an answer, and, clearly, so does Giles.
“Er, yes,” He pushes his glasses further up her nose, which distantly reminds Faith of that saying about hitting a man with glasses. “We did.”
Willow pipes up, even though nobody asked her to speak, “Giles buried the bones, and we poured holy water and we got to wear robes.” Her words fall all over each other in their rush to get out of her mouth.
Merrick gives Giles a withering look. “You took children to bury the bones of the Master?”
Giles fiddles with the stems of his glasses, guilt taking a backseat for a moment to turn into indignation, “They’re the same age as your charge.”
“Well, actually, we’re all younger than Faith is.” Amy points out, either oblivious or uncaring to the tension in the room.
“That’s not the point that we should be focusing on, right now,” Buffy barks, and everybody jumps at the change in tone. Afterall, she’d been all cool and calm a moment ago. Even Faith, who has experience with her mother’s mood swings from back when she was a child, isn’t expecting the jump in octave. “You buried the Master’s bones?”
“I told you I took care of them,” Giles reminds her, his voice balancing the edge of gentle and frustrated.
“Yeah, I figured you meant, ‘smashed them into dust, and then flushed them down a drain,’ or something! Not burying them fully intact in their former base of operations!” Faith watches the glassy hue in her mother’s eyes with some sort of horrified fascination.
The woman hasn’t so much as raised her voice since she first killed the Master.
“Well, you did say that they moved headquarters from the tunnels,” Willow offers in defense of Giles.
Once again, everyone ignores her.
“Buffy, we followed protocol exactly,” Giles insists, “I consecrated the ground so that they could not touch it, and poured holy water over the bones--”
Buffy raises an eyebrow at him, and when she speaks again, her voice has gone back to quiet and contained, though still edged with something hard, “Did the holy water dissolve the bones, Giles?”
“Er, no.”
“Then I don’t want to hear about the holy water.”
Giles shakes his head, either at Buffy’s words, or at himself. “I had no reason to think that our precautions would not be enough to deter them.”
Buffy’s right eye looks dangerously close to twitching. “Giles, they’re a cult! They’re a vampire cult! Pain doesn’t matter to them the same way! I once fought a vampire who thought getting staked was kinky!”
“Ew,” Amy mutters. “How does that even come up?”
Buffy continues, “The Order has tons of followers and disposable minions to send onto consecrated grounds, and they would do it happily. Neither death, nor holy water is going to be enough to stop them!”
“I’m really lost here,” Willow stands up, raising her voice-- probably to make sure that nobody can ignore her this time. “Why are you so angry, and what would somebody even want with Master bones?”
Faith watches a bone in Buffy’s jaw twitch, “They're gonna bring him back,” She says, and Faith wishes that she was yelling again, because that’s the tone that this sort of proclamation should have. Not each new word becoming more and more detached. “They're gonna bring the Master back to life.”
Giles holds up his hands, as if he wants to grab her by the shoulders, but stops himself before he can make contact. “Buffy, I- I- I know that I've messed up, but I’ve never heard of a- a revivification ritual being successful.”
Buffy scoffs, “Yeah, well I’ve never heard of a vampire leaving behind bones before, and the council has never heard of two Slayers existing at the same time, so odds aren’t exactly in our favor here.”
She doesn’t so much as yell, but Giles recoils as if she’d slapped him. His breathing is slightly ragged, and when he speaks, it comes out harsh and loud, “I would like to remind you that you put me in charge of taking care of the bones!”
“Yeah, well, clearly that was a mistake,” Buffy shakes her head, looking down at her watch, then lets out a small curse. Without another word, she starts stalking towards the library doors.
Giles blinks owlishly at her, tracking her movement with his eyes. He asks in a slightly hoarse voice, “Where are you going?”
“I have to go pick Dawn up from school,” Buffy calls over her shoulder. “You start researching. Try to find whichever ritual they’re most likely to be doing.”
When she leaves, the silence that follows is as if she took all of the noise in the world with her.
“Mom, you’re not planning on killing me, are you?” Dawn asks hesitantly, as the two of them carefully walk through Restfield cemetery.
The ground is uneven, and Dawn refuses to hold her mother’s hand to stabilize herself-- after all, she’s less than two years away from being a teenager. She doesn’t need to hold her mom’s hand whenever they go anywhere.
Even if she did just come dangerously close to twisting her ankle on a hard clump of grass sticking up from the ground.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Buffy answers, not even looking at Dawn as she strides confidently through the cemetery, even in her heeled boots.
Dawn hopes that she’ll be able to be like that one day.
“Then why are we here?”
Buffy hadn’t said much of anything after she got Dawn off the bus. She’d simply herded the younger girl into the car, and driven them to the cemetery.
“There’s some… problems that have come up. So I need you to stay with a friend of mine while I deal with it.”
Dawn perks up, “Monster problems?”
Buffy hesitates for a long moment, and just when Dawn thinks she’s not going to get a real answer, her mother finally gives a single nod, and a slightly stilted, “Yes. Monster problems.”
“I can help,” Dawn says immediately.
Buffy gives her a sidelong look, her face set in a deeply unamused expression. “You are helping.”
“By not being there,” Dawn grumbles, pouting-- and, yes, she knows that’s what she’s doing, but she can’t help it. It’s just so unfair. Her mom and her sister get to be cool monster hunters, and Dawn has to sit back and do her homework.
Buffy doesn’t answer her, but Dawn knows what she wants to say. It’s better if Dawn just stays out of her way.
Then, Dawn finally catches onto what else her mother had said.
“Wait, a friend?” Dawn hadn’t realized her mother had any friends in Sunnydale other than Giles. “If you’re taking me to a friend, then why are we in a--”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because just then, her mother stops in her tracks. While Dawn had been distracted, the two of them walked straight up to a large, grey, stone crypt overridden on the outside with vines and moss.
To Dawn’s bewilderment, her mom raps her knuckles against the thick, stone door that separated the graves from the outside world.
“Mom,” Dawn inquires, her heart rate picking up for reasons she doesn’t know. “What are we--”
Suddenly, the door opens, revealing a man. A man that Dawn stares at, mouth agape, and eyes wide.
When the man sees her mother, he exclaims, “Buffy? Girl, it’s so good to see you!”
Dawn cannot believe what she is seeing.
Because this is a clearly non-human man. His skin is on the pinker side of peachy, his eyes a bright red. His skin falls in long, deep valleys of wrinkles, and his ears are long and floppy-- sort of like a basset hound.
And her mom is… smiling at him-- a small smile, but a smile nonetheless-- and when the man comes towards her with his arms outstretched, she gives him a one armed hug back. “Hey, Clem.”
“What are you doing here?” The man asks, all smiles, revealing his fangs.
“I’m sorry this is so last minute, but I was hoping you could do me a favor?”
“Anything for you.”
“This,” Buffy puts an arm around Dawn’s shoulders, and gently nudges her forward much to Dawn’s bewilderment. “Is my youngest daughter, Dawn.”
“Oh, my gosh! Hi,” Clem greets her, seeming genuinely happy to see her. It makes Dawn’s brain short circuit in confusion.
“I was hoping you’d let her stay with you for a few hours. Just until I take care of some things that’ve come up.” Buffy doesn’t expand on what those ‘things’ are, and Clem doesn’t ask.
He just keeps smiling, and it’s so weird, because it seems like a genuine, happy smile. Not a creepy, evil smile like the villains in her cartoons wear. But none of those villains look like Clem.
“Oh, of course! The more the merrier. I have Bugles and some movies on tape…” He leans forward, hands on his knees as he looks directly into Dawn’s face. She’s able to make out all of the wrinkles in his forehead from this angle. “Does that sound like fun?”
“Uh, sure,” She replies, her voice a bit too squeaky for her liking.
“Dawnie, this is Clem,” Buffy introduces, her voice soft. “He’s an old friend of mine, and he’ll be your babysitter tonight.”
When Buffy reenters the library, several old tomes are open and most of the people in the room are engrossed in the words.
Giles looks up at her, and asks, “Where’s Dawn?” She notices that his words are tentative, almost scared, and a pang of guilt tries to hit her in the chest.
“I left her with a friend.” Buffy answers shortly, her heels clicking on the linoleum as she crosses the room.
“You have friends other than Giles?” Faith asks absentmindedly, from where she’s very clearly not actually reading a book over Amy’s shoulder.
Buffy doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just asks the room at large, “Has anyone found anything yet?”
“I believe that I- I- I've got something,” Giles mutters, barely looking up from his book as he translates the words, “It's Latin, so bear with me. Uh, to revive the vampire they need his bones, uh... w- which they have,” He anxiously fiddles with the stems of his glasses, and though he’s still looking at the book, Buffy knows it’s more to avoid her eyes than anything. “And, um, the blood... this is very unclear, of the closest person... uh, someone connected to the vampire.”
An immediate answer hits Buffy straight in the eyes. Me.
The two of them had killed each other, after all. It was a mutual connection. One that most people couldn’t replicate.
Then she forces her first reaction down to think logically. There could be others. Everyone that the Master sired shares his blood. Darla was with him for centuries. Even the Anointed One, though young, was probably pretty close to the old vampire before his death.
“Does it say how they were close?” Buffy asks, straining to keep her voice free of inflection. She doesn’t want to break down again like she’d done earlier. “Mentally, physically, childe, sire--”
Giles shakes his head, “It- it- it’s very unclear. I’m sorr--”
Buffy looks over at Merrick. If Giles is having trouble with the translation, he could use the other Watcher’s help. Time is, after all, of the essence. “What about you? How’s your Latin?”
“Quite good,” Merrick replies.
Buffy nods. “Alright, then the two of you should start trying to clear this thing up, so we know exactly what we need to stop.”
Giles looks like he wants to protest, but he closes his mouth, and reluctantly gestures for Merrick to come to him.
“Alright, well as long as that’s taken care of--”
The window over Xander’s shoulder smashes as a rock soars into the room. Buffy’s hand whips out, and catches the rock in her hands as it comes hurtling towards her.
“Whoa!” Xander exclaims, ducking down as glass rains down on him.
Buffy inspects the rock. It has a small, white piece of paper attached to it by a silver, studded bracelet.
“I know this bracelet,” Buffy murmurs, trying to place where she last saw the piece of jewelry.
Faith comes over her shoulder, and peers at it. “Yeah, it’s Cordelia’s. I saw her wearing it yesterday.”
Buffy quickly slides the note off of the rock, and reads it aloud as everyone gathers around her, “'Come to the Bronze before it opens, or we make her a meal.'”
“They're gonna cook her dinner?” Everyone looks at Xander blankly. “I'll pretend I didn't say that.”
“Please do.” Amy tells him.
“What do we do?”
Buffy lets out a long stream of air through her nose. “I should go to the Bronze,” She says, suddenly very glad that she’d thought to change into Slaying-friendly clothing before Dawn’s bus got to the house.
“Excuse me?” Giles asks, looking at her as if she were an insane person. Which, you know, she very may well be, but can you blame her?
“If there’s even a small chance to save Cordelia, then I should take it,” Buffy explains, getting to her feet. “It’s not like I get the option to save people very often.”
“Well, yeah, but what about the rest of the note?” Willow asks, her eyebrows furrowed.
Buffy looks down at the note with the simple message scrawled on it. “What rest of the note?”
“The part that says, 'P.S. This is a trap?’”
“You'll be playing straight into their hands.” Giles agrees, taking off his glasses as he looks at her beseechingly.
“I don’t like her either, but you guys aren’t actually saying we should just let Cordelia die, right?” Faith asks the room, her eyebrow inching up her forehead.
Giles lets out an annoyed huff. “Of course not.”
“But Cordelia may be dead already,” Xander chimes in. “It just doesn’t make sense--”
Buffy shakes her head, cutting him off. “I’m not giving up on her until I know for certain. That’s why I have to go.”
Faith nods, picking up her jean jacket from the back of her chair. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Buffy stops her by putting a hand on her shoulder. “No. You stay here,”
“What?” Faith’s voice goes loud and indignant. “You can’t just stop me from coming. I’m the Slayer too--”
“Which is why you need to stay here,” Buffy replies. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to walk into what is probably a trap, and I can handle whatever is thrown my way. I’ll be back soon.”
Of course, Faith follows Buffy.
Oh, the others had been very against it. They kept telling her to follow orders and listen to her mother, but Faith reminded them that she had just as much of a right to fight vampires as Buffy did.
So, she left. Unfortunately, Merrick insisted on following her.
At least he’s quiet on their walk, keeping both of his hands in his pockets. If he’s smart, he’s probably holding onto weapons she can’t see. So, he’s already better company than Xander.
When they finally get to the Bronze, Faith is much less surprised than Merrick is to see the figure step out of the shadows and into their path.
“Oh, look!” Faith exclaims with mock pep. “It’s my favorite stalker!”
Angel says in his usual melodramatic tone, “You need help. Someone to watch your back.”
“Okay, well, first of all, I’m here to watch someone else’s back, and second of all, I clearly have backup.” She finishes this by gesturing to Merrick.
Merrick, who is looking between the two of them with weariness in his eyes. “Faith, who is this man? And why is he here?”
Angel glares at Merrick, wrinkling his nose. “Who are you?”
“Merrick, this is Angel, he thinks he’s my boyfriend. Angel, this is Merrick, he thinks he’s my Watcher. Any questions?”
When neither man does anything more than regard each other with glares, Faith gives two thumbs up.
“Great, well, in that case, why don’t the three of us go into the Bronze before either Cordelia dies, or my mom does again!” As if to punctuate her words, a high-pitched, feminine scream is heard from inside the club. “Damnit.”
The three of them rush into the club. Faith, at least, is expecting the absolute worst. Her heart rate is elevating, and panic is starting to cloud her mind.
Except, as soon as they come into the main room of the club, they find Buffy pinning one, lone vampire to the ground with her foot.
She looks up at them, her eyebrows furrowing. “Faith?” She doesn’t mention Merrick or Angel, but the mutinous glares she sends to the men speak more for her than any words can. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, we came to be backup because of the trap, but--” Faith stops, looking around. “Where is the trap?”
The vampire on the ground inclines her head back so that she could see Faith, and lets out a giggle, which just seems disrespectful, and also stupid considering there’re now two Slayers standing over her.
Buffy looks down at the vampire, and then her eyes widen. Not by a lot, but enough for Faith to notice. “Shit,” Buffy curses.
She takes her foot off the vampire, and roughly lifts her, so that her feet lift off the ground.
“Angel,” Buffy grinds out, “Come here.”
To his credit, Angel does as asked, and when he’s close enough, Buffy throws the vampire into his arms. “Merrick, you stay with Angel. Watch her. Don't kill her unless you have to.” Buffy makes eye contact with her daughter over Angel’s shoulder, and orders, “We have to go.”
“What’s going on?” Faith asks, even as she follows her mom out of the Bronze.
“We have to get to the library. Now.” She looks over her shoulder one last time at the two men still standing in the club, clearly confused, but following their orders like good little boys. “We’ll be back.”
Dawn points at a familiar array of multi-colored books on a nearby shelf with the name Joan Randalls printed on the spines. “Oh, you read those books too?”
“‘Too?’” Clem repeats, his eyes wide with shock.
“Yeah,” Dawn nods, not understanding that reaction. “My mom reads them.” Dawn recognizes the books because she grabbed one from the bookshelf in her mom’s room, and her if she could read it for her summer log, but her mom’s face had turned bright red, and she’d snatched the book out of her hands without further conversation.
Clem lets out a long, slightly relieved laugh. “Okay, yeah, that makes more sense.”
“Why?” Dawn tilts her head to the side as she considers him, “What’re they about?”
“Uh…” Clem flounders, not making eye contact. “Grown up stuff.”
“That just means it’s something you don’t want to tell me about.” Dawn grumbles.
“Yeah,” Clem says, and he at least looks apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Whatever, I’m used to it. So, how long have you known my mom?” Dawn asks, taking a Bugle out of the open bag, and sticking it on the tip of her finger to make it look like she had a claw as long as Clem’s.
“Uh, almost… twenty years? Wow, crazy how time flies, right?” Dawn nods, even though she isn’t totally sure she understands what Clem means by that. “A friend of mine used to take her to our poker games, and we got to know each other.”
Dawn’s eyebrows inch up her forehead. “My mom used to play poker?” She doesn’t know much about poker, other than it’s a card game, and her mom hates card games. She thinks that Uno is too slow.
Clem shakes his head, making his ears flop around a bit. “No, no. She would usually just sit and d-- watch.”
They sit in silence for a while-- okay, it’s really only about five minutes, but that feels like a long time for Dawn. She looks around the cozy crypt with the soft if worn looking chairs adorned with throw pillows, and the light of the TV falling on assorted knick-knacks. “Your house looks really nice.”
“Oh, thanks,” Clem grins at her. “But, it’s not really mine. I sublet from my friend, Spike. He’s out of town a lot, and it’s not wise to leave a fine piece of real estate like this empty.” He says it carelessly, obviously not realizing the importance that that one name would have to the young girl.
Dawn stares at him “Hold up! You know Spike?”
Honestly, in the intervening months since she met him, Dawn was starting to believe that the cool, blond man with the blue eyes had been a mirage along with the monster he’d slayed. She’d pored over her mother’s high school yearbooks trying to find a glimpse of his face. But even in the one from her freshman year-- before she moved to Sunnydale-- there was no sight of the mysterious man whose real name Dawn still doesn’t know.
“You know Spike?” Clem seems genuinely surprised by this, the space where his eyebrows would be growing even wrinklier.
“Uh, yeah,” Dawn shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “We’ve met before. He said he was a friend of my moms.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Clem was blinking a lot, just like Giles does when he’s forced to look at a computer screen. “They… they were friends.”
“‘Were,’” Dawn repeats. “So they aren’t friends anymore?”
“Uh, I, uh,” Clem stutters. “I don’t really know. ”
“Why not? If you’re friends with both of them, why don’t you know?” Dawn raises both of her eyebrows meaningfully. “What happened with Spike and my mom?”
Clem doesn’t answer. He points one long claw at the TV. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”
As soon as Faith enters the library, coming in from behind Buffy, she stops dead in her tracks.
“Shit,” Faith whispers under her breath, staring at the mess.
The place is ransacked. Papers strewn across the room, a computer thrown on the ground, a few weapons lay discarded. And pulling himself up from the turned over research table is a disoriented and bloody Xander.
“Xander!” Buffy calls, running up to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he violently retracts from her touch.
“What happened?”
“Vampires,” Xander grumbles. “The ones you were gonna handle.”
Faith doesn’t like the way he says that, but if it bothers her mother, she doesn’t let it show. She simply scans the library, and asks, “Where are the others?”
“I don't know,” Xander grits out, and sets his sights on Faith, who is still standing frozen near the entrance. He takes a step toward her, his shoulders broadened, as if to make sure she knows he’s bigger than her. “You. I don't know what your problem is, what your issues are. But as of now, I officially don't care. If you'd actually been here, if you hadn’t dragged Merrick with you, and not thrown a hissy fit, you coulda stopped this.”
Buffy steps between the two of them. “Pointing fingers isn’t going to help. We- we just have to think. Where would they have taken them?”
Ignoring her, Xander growls at Faith, “If they hurt Willow, I'll kill you.”
“Xander,” Buffy admonishes, warning in her tone, even though neither he nor Faith listens to it.
Faith grits her teeth together, but forces a dangerous smirk onto her face. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Both of you, cut it out!” Buffy hisses, putting a hand on both of their shoulders, and lightly shoving them back. She takes a deep breath, then looks at Xander, “Why did they take them and not you?”
Xander shrugs, “Giles said the ritual was, um... They needed people who were close to the Master. Physically close. When he, uh…” Xander trails off, his confidence from earlier obviously evaporated.
“The ones who were in the same room as the Master when he died.” Buffy concludes, bringing one hand up to rub at her temples.
Xander lists off, “Giles, Willow, Amy, Cordelia…”
“Jenny,” Buffy’s eyes widen, and her whole body lurches, as she looks at Faith, “Dawn!”
“No, no,” Faith shakes her head, and rushes to assure Buffy, “She wasn’t even in the room. Giles sent her into his office.”
“Yeah, well, in any case,” Xander huffs, “Odds are they've got a complete set by now.”
Buffy nods, turning on her heel, and starting towards the library doors. “Alright, then, we need to go. We need to find out where they’re keeping them.”
“How?” Xander asks, sending one last mutinous glare at Faith before they both follow the older Slayer.
“What happened?” Merrick asks Buffy as soon as the three of them enter the Bronze, his eyes caught on Xander, whose blood is still staining his white sweater.
“Turns out this was a trap, just not for me,” She says succinctly, then juts her chin towards the vampire sitting in the corner. When Buffy was gone, Angel and Merrick obviously found a way to restrain her hands, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. She has a proud little smile on her face, and it makes Buffy’s stomach clench. “Has she said anything?”
“Other than that the world is doomed, and we will all die?” Merrick asks. “No.”
“She’s clearly not going to talk,” Angel says, sounding very much like the end of the world is already here, and there’s nothing they can do about it.
Screw. That.
Gritting her teeth, Buffy knows that she has only one option to save Giles, Jenny, and the kids. “Oh, I’ll make her talk.”
“How?” Faith asks. She’s been unusually quiet since the library, and there’s a look forming in her eyes that Buffy wants to take out of her and crush with her bare hands. She is all too familiar with that look from the mirror.
Clutching the bottle of holy water in her pocket with one fist, Buffy fiddles with the cross necklace she’s wearing-- the one Faith gave her for her last birthday-- with the other hand. “It doesn’t matter. Just go in the back, and wait for me by the door. This won’t take long.”
Faith and Xander do as she says, though with plenty of backward glances. Angel and Merrick comply too, but they both have this knowing gleam in their eyes. Like they know exactly what she’s going to do, and they, too, know it’s her only way.
God, she hates what she’s about to do.
Buffy rushes into the warehouse that the vampiress had directed her to-- before being mercifully staked-- with Faith, Xander, Angel, and Merrick on her heels, all armed with stakes.
“Witnesses to our Master's wretched demise,” A vampire’s voice drones through the warehouse. “They will breathe their last this night. The blood that pours from their throats will bring new life to the old one! We gather for his resurrection. For the dawn of this new hell.”
Buffy stops as she notices the table laid out with the Master’s bones, and-- Dear, lord, her stomach revolts at the sight. Dangling above it, all upside down and unconscious, are Giles, Willow, Amy, Cordelia, and Jenny.
“Miss S,” Xander’s voice, while hushed, seems to reverberate through her skull as he catches her attention. “We gotta do something now.”
Buffy nods. “Right,” She points at the three men, “You guys get the others out of here,” She looks at Faith, “Clear a path for them,” She juts with her chin towards the vampires surrounding the table in front of them.
Faith nods gamely, clutching her stake. “Got it, but what are you gonna do?”
Buffy gives her a grim smile, “I’m going to kill the rest of them.”
“Where is he?” Dawn asks about an hour into their movie, wiping her cheese dusty fingers. Her mom’ll probably be upset that she ruined her dinner with so many snacks, but, then again, it’s almost eight. How can Dawn expect to not snack in all that time?
“Uh,” Clem hesitates, his face wrinkling more as he thinks over her question. “I’m not sure. I mean, obviously his body is still in the study, but if he was as bad a person as they say he was--”
“No,” Dawn shakes her head, cutting the man off. “I’m not talking about Mr. Body. I’m talking about Spike.”
“Oh,” Clem’s shoulders sink. He lifts the remote up and pauses the film so that Tim Curry’s face remains frozen on the screen. “You still wanna talk about that?”
“It’s just…” She sighs. “Is he still in town? Probably not, since you’re living in his house. But if he isn’t, then where is he?”
“Honestly, I don’t know where he is,” Clem says apologetically. “He visited a few months ago. He usually comes by once a year in between his… uh,” Clem’s hand flutters as he searches for the right word, “Work?”
“Work? What does he do?”
“Oh, well,” Dawn feels a little bad for asking Clem so many questions, just by the agitated way he speaks, and how his ears flutter with every head shake. “It’s complicated. I mean, he makes money by, uh… Well, that’s complicated too. But in his free time, he usually goes around the world, looking for… well, looking for bad things to fight.”
Dawn asks, “Like my mom?”
“Sort of,” Clem shrugs helplessly. “The last time I talked to Spike he was heading to Rhode Island because he heard that something bad was happening there.”
“What do you mean ‘something bad?’” Dawn asks, practically on the edge of her seat. “Is it super dangerous? When will he be back?”
“I don’t know,” He gives her a little, contrite smile, which manages to look endearing, even with the way his fangs are peeking through his lips. “I didn’t ask. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you more.”
“Well,” Dawn’s eyes light up as if she’d just thought of something, and hasn’t been ruminating on the possibility for the entire first half an hour of Clue. “You could actually help me with something else I wanted to know.”
Clem immediately looks nervous. Which… yeah, she gets that. “It depends. What is it?”
“What’s Spike’s real name? I asked him, and he wouldn’t tell me,” She gives him her most angelic smile, which Faith often said still made her look like a shifty eyed devil. “Would you tell me?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like it’s a big secret,” He concedes, “Unless you’re talking about his last name, because I’ve known the guy for decades and he still won’t give me a clear answer on that.”
“No,” Dawn assures him quickly, feeling like something momentous is about to happen. “No, just the first name is enough.”
That's all I have.
“His name’s William,” Clem smiles at her as if the two of them are into some inside joke, but Dawn doesn’t even notice due to the ringing in her ears. “He just goes by Spike because it fits his image more.”
“Right,” Dawn nods, her chest feeling just a bit light, like someone had just filled her with helium. “Of course. I thought it was something like that.”
It’s almost anticlimactic how quickly they managed to get rid of every vampire. Or, at least, every vampire that tried to fight back.
Faith had noticed the Anointed One and a few of his disciples escaping during the fight, but she’s been too busy helping save stupid Angel’s life to follow them.
The others are safe. Giles and Miss Calendar are standing on the upper levels of the warehouse, clutching at one another, Willow and Xander doing the same. Amy and Cordelia are on their feet too, but they don’t have anyone to lean on.
Faith is standing on the main floor, Angel somewhere behind her-- she wouldn’t even realize he was still there if it wasn’t for her preternatural vampire sense. Her mother is only a few feet from her, glaring intently at the metal table sitting underneath a skylight, bathing the bones in moonlight as if under a spotlight.
Faith wants to say something. Either something genuine or sarcastic, she isn’t sure. But, either way, her voice fails her.
Buffy picks up the sledgehammer-- dropped by a now charred pile of dust-- and stalks towards the bones. The first smash happens so quickly, and with so little warning, that Faith flinches backwards. She’s only a little more prepared for the second one.
Again and again, the sledgehammer comes down on the bones. They fragment and break into smaller portions, and then into dust when Buffy continues to bring it down.
Faith isn’t staring at what used to remain of the Master, though. She’s staring at her mother’s face, which remains impassive, devoid of any emotion.
When every fragment has been smashed to powder, Buffy kicks the table over, and the bone powder spills over the concrete floor, the dust exploding into dimly lit air.
The world is oddly quiet. Nobody speaks up. None of the others dare to get too close to where the eldest Slayer stands, with her younger counterpart close by.
Faith steps closer to her mother, putting a tentative hand out to grab her shoulder. She expects… She doesn’t even really know what she expects, but it isn’t what she gets.
Buffy stares steadily at the mess, before fully turning her back to it. She looks at Faith, but Faith has the unsettling feeling that her mom isn’t really seeing her, when she says, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Dawn’s a little annoyed that Faith barely reacts when she sees Clem. She just blinks several times at the demon, but once Buffy pulls him into a hug, her sister’s face turns flat.
“Thank you so much, Clem,” Buffy says, patting him on the back.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Clem waves her off. “She was a delight.”
“You sure you’re talking about Dawn?” Faith asks with a smirk, though it doesn’t look as mean as it usually does. Dawn wonders if her sister is feeling well.
“Oh, my gosh!” Clem’s mouth drops open when he finally notices the older girl. “Faith?” He looks at Buffy, and she confirms with a nod. “Look at you! I haven’t seen you since you were a baby,” He looks at their mother. “She’s gotten so big!”
“I know,” Buffy gives him a wan smile. “It’s crazy isn’t it?”
Clem nods emphatically, his ears and small flaps of his skin jiggling with every movement.
Stepping closer to him, Buffy asks in an undertone that Dawn has to strain her ears in order to hear, “How was she?”
For a split second, Dawn is worried that Clem is about to spill the beans of the Spike of it all. Afterall, she hadn’t sworn him to secrecy or anything. Especially not to her mother, who he’s known for much longer than her.
Clem just smiles. “Like I said, delightful. We watched movies, played cards, ate Bugles. I had fun. If you ever need a babysitter, don’t hesitate to come by again.”
“I may take you up on that,” Buffy promises. She looks at her daughters. “Alright. I’ve gotta get you two home, fed, and then straight to bed.”
“Ooh, what’s for dinner?” Dawn asks, perking up.
Buffy grins at her. “Leftovers.”
“Oh,” Dawn deflates, remembering last night’s dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Which was fine, but, like, not twice in a row.
When Dawn follows the other two out of the door, she turns back to look at Clem once more. He greets her with a wink, and mimes zipping his lips with his clawed thumb and index finger.
Dawn grins at him, before closing the door to the crypt behind her.
Buffy sits on the edge of her bed, Mr. Gordo clutched in her arms. The softness of her pajamas envelops her in a way that is comforting. The sort of grounding that can allow her to think about things she usually forces from her mind.
The Master is officially gone. Only three months after he’d killed her.
He’d. Killed. Her.
And it had been so… disappointing.
Maybe it’s morbid, but she’d imagined what it was that would one day take her out. Perhaps stopping an apocalypse with flashing lights and mystical beings she couldn’t have even dreamed of. At the very least, a fight worthy of all twenty years she’s spent avoiding death.
But she hadn’t gotten any of that.
She hadn’t died in any fantastic way. She’d died with a plop. A literal plop into a pool of water where she’d drowned, because the Master hadn’t seen her as important enough to kill himself.
An oddly anticlimactic ending for someone with her longevity and track record.
But then she got brought back.
And tonight, she got to do the same thing to him.
The thought is enough to pull a small smirk onto her face.
“Knock, knock,” A muffled voice says through the door, and that’s all of the warning Buffy has before her bedroom door opens and swings inward.
Faith stands at the doorway, clearly just out of the shower with her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail and her face scrubbed clean. Buffy won’t ever stop looking at her as her baby, but she seems somehow even younger like this. Not that her teenager would appreciate that thought.
“Oh, good,” Faith hums. “You’re still here.”
Buffy tilts her head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gets the feeling that she’s said the exact wrong thing-- Buffy has been getting that feeling a lot lately where it concerns her daughters.
Faith purses her lips into a thin line, before giving a little shake of her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
She steps back from the doorway, already starting to pull the door shut behind her, when Buffy suddenly exclaims, “Hey, wait!” Faith pauses, looking down at the carpeted floors. “Sit down,” Buffy pats the spot on the bed beside her. “I want to talk.”
The surprised look on her daughter’s face causes Buffy’s heart to sink. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Buffy pats the empty space again. “Come on.”
Slowly, Faith walks into the room, and sits down next to Buffy. She doesn’t say anything, so Buffy takes it on herself to start the conversation.
“I just wanted to--” Buffy shakes her head, giving Faith a soft, sympathetic look,“Giles said you were having some trouble with your friends--”
Faith rolls her eyes, “Of course Giles did. Did he also happen to mention that I’m not actually a Slayer, but possessed by an evil spirit?”
Buffy winces, trying hard to not get angry at the kids. “He mentioned some of that. But then, later tonight, with Xander--”
Faith shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop her, “Can we not? I don’t need you to tell me that Xander was just in a crappy situation, and I shouldn’t blame him for that--”
“I wasn’t gonna say that,” Buffy interrupts. “Yes, it was a stressful situation, and yes, I understand that he was worried about Willow. But he had no right to-- to threaten you.”
Faith’s lips twist into a tiny grimace. “But it was my fault for leaving.”
“Maybe,” Buffy shrugs. “We don’t know that you being there would’ve stopped the others from being captured. Especially being unprepared. Not even Giles found out the translation until it was too late, and--” Buffy takes a deep breath, “I know why you came after me, Faith,” Buffy says softly.
Her daughter stiffens. “Oh, really?” Her voice is harsh, and Buffy knows she deserves it.
“This is way too late, but I’m sorry for going after the Master when I promised you wouldn’t. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for what that’s done to you.” Faith’s big, brown eyes stare up at her, and she slowly leans towards her until their shoulders bump.
A part of Buffy had actually been upset when she’d been pulled back from the darkness. A very small part, but one that still inspired guilt in her after all these months.
She didn’t want to be dead. She wanted to be there for her daughters, watch them grow up. But the thought of getting a break had been so tempting. Giving up, and letting another girl take over for her after twenty years of service.
Then she found out that the next girl was Faith.
“But, I can’t apologize for doing things on my own sometimes,” Buffy insists, “It’s part of the job. Sometimes I have to go off on my own--”
“And sometimes I do?” Faith’s question is soft, but also pointed.
“Eventually,” And it pains Buffy to admit this, but she has to be realistic. If Faith were any other Slayer, it wouldn’t have taken her three months to have her first apocalyptic level event. Buffy can’t protect her from that forever-- no matter how much she wishes she could. “Once you’ve learned more.”
“I shouldn’t have left the library,” Faith admits. “I made a mistake,”
“We all do,” Buffy replies, “But everybody made it out alive. And you’ve learned.”
Faith snorts, “To listen to you?”
Buffy shrugs, and pulls Faith into a side hug, “Well, I’ve been trying to teach you that for sixteen years. It’s sure to stick eventually.”
“The Anointed One’s still out there.” Faith murmurs, her face pressed against Buffy’s shoulder.
“He is,” Buffy nods. “But he won’t be for long.”
“We’ll stop him.”
“Yeah,” Buffy mutters, pressing her cheek to the top of Faith’s head, and enjoying the warmth that emanates from it. “We will.”
Faith walks into Algebra on Monday morning, Amy right behind her.
Xander is already sitting at a desk situated at the end of a middle column. They haven’t spoken since before the Warehouse. Since the library.
Their eyes meet for a moment, and he gives her a small smile. As if everything is okay.
Hiking her backpack up, Faith grabs a seat in the very back room, on the opposite side of where Xander sits.
Amy takes a seat beside her, steadfastly ignoring Xander’s pleading gaze.
It won’t work this time.