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Decaf peppermint mochas at The Daily Grind were a crime against humanity. The whipped cream and chocolate sauce were cloyingly sweet, the peppermint overwhelmed the bitterness of the coffee, and there was no jolt from the caffeine. Under normal circumstances, Faith wouldn’t be caught dead ordering one.
But the magic-specialist Watcher for their office had up and quit after that last mind-controlled Slayer incident. He had called the incident “a terrifying look into the abyss that harrowed my soul”; Faith and Willow had called it a slightly hectic Thursday. Willow was stuck dealing with the backlog of his paperwork, and on top of that, had to interview some other stuffed shirt Watcher to be his replacement.
Willow liked those stupid mochas so much that Faith had bought her one on her way home, so she'd have something to smile about after a long, boring workday.
Willow was sitting on one of stools at the kitchen bar, frowning at something on her computer screen. At the sight of Faith, she closed the laptop and grinned.
“How’d the interview with the Watcher wannabe go?” Faith asked, handing her the mocha.
The smile lost some of its wattage. “Oh, he’s very, um, enthusiastic about the job, and he certainly knows his way around 15th century spells,” Willow said, in a bright voice. But Faith could hear an undercurrent of sadness and frustration beneath the kittens-and-rainbows positivity. Something about the interview had upset Willow, but she was still trying to be fair to the guy.
Back when they’d first met, a lifetime ago at a high school that was now a giant crater, Faith had been struck by how transparent Willow was. It had evoked a weird combination of second-hand embarrassment and rage in Faith back then. Never give people a road map to hurt you. You can’t hold your heart out for everyone to see, she wanted to scream at that tiny girl. They will rip your heart out right in front of you. Build up some armor.
Faith’s attempts to build up her armor hadn’t exactly turned out well, but live and learn.
“Will, I don’t give a shit about his credentials. Something about him has got you wigged,” Faith said. “Go ahead. Spill.”
There was a trickle of chocolate sauce sliding down the cup. Willow grabbed a paper towel and cleaned the cup and her hand more vigorously than seemed necessary. “He kept talking about how he thinks everything happens for a reason.” Her voice grew shaky. “He’d heard my story from the coven, and he kept saying that the power I have, it was my destiny, because my power helped save the world. And that I should be grateful for everything that happened to me, because everything in the world right now is exactly as it should be. Like Tara being murdered made the world a better place.”
“Fuck that guy.” Faith said that sort of thing a lot, but it needed saying a lot, and Willow was far too strait-laced to say it. Faith hadn’t really known Tara, but from what she’d heard, Tara was the kindest member of the Scooby Gang. If the best possible reality demanded that a good woman be murdered by a creepy nerd having a tantrum, Faith didn’t want to hear about it.
Willow twisted her hands in her scarf. “I felt like screaming or crying, but I just kinda froze. And I told him we’d get back to him.”
“Why?” Faith asked. “There’s gotta be tons of other people who want the job and won’t make you feel like shit.”
“I don’t--I’m trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. Because a lot of people did that for me. I can’t--I just can’t believe that Tara had to die to save the world. And what about the good she could have done if she’d lived? How can anyone possibly be sure that this is the best possible outcome? And maybe I should try to work with people I disagree with--”
“Lemme stop you right there. How many fights have you had with Buffy and Xander in the last ten years? Or Giles? You’re already up to your eyeballs with people who will argue with you. You’re living with one now. You’re not gonna create an echo chamber if you decide you don’t wanna work with Mr. Positivity all day.”
“When you put it that way--” but there was still some hesitation there, and Faith could practically see some hidden should turning in her mind.
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t wanna work with him either. We should feel guilty about the stuff we've done. But we’re helping people now. Why the hell do you also need to be grateful for every shitty thing that happened along the way? It’s not enough that life keeps pouring acid down our throats, this guy wants us to smile sweetly and call it a delicious milkshake? Fuck that noise. It’s a good thing I wasn’t there, I’d be tempted to kick him in the nuts, and then tell him to stop whining, because clearly it must have happened for a reason.”
That got a grin out of Willow, at least. “I love you when you work yourself up into a righteous fury,” and then the grin faded as soon as she registered exactly what she’d said.
They had kind of fallen in bed together, a mutual rebound situation that led to Faith moving in with Willow without ever defining anything. Faith had thought Willow was happy, thought they were heading in a particular direction, but maybe Willow was better at keeping her feelings hidden than Faith had thought. She braced herself for a long speech from Willow with a lot of hemming and hawing. And then Willow would finally admit that playing house had been fun, but that no one else could live up to her one true love. Certainly not Faith, though Willow would probably be too polite to say that out loud. Something sharp and cold twisted in Faith’s gut as she waited for Willow to say something, anything at all.
“Oh, crud, that came out all wrong! I didn’t mean that I only love you when you’re furious. I love you when you sing Metallica songs in the shower, and I love you when you dunk Oreos in your beer, and I love you when you tell that cheesy story about the alligator for the millionth time--”
“It’s not cheesy. It’s a classic of the genre,” Faith said, a reflexive response as she struggled to get a handle on the ups and downs of this conversation. She’d been filled with dread, which transformed into relief as Willow kept talking.
“--and every other time. And I had it all planned out, I was gonna tell you after dinner at Matta’s, I had a much better speech planned out. You deserve better than me babbling it out like that.”
“It’s ok,” Faith said. "I —I mean, I also--” There were feelings, but she had no coherent explanation about when they’d started and why. Or she could just spit out three small words, which sounded a lot easier than it was. “Shit. I don’t know why it’s so hard to say it.” And that left things open for Willow to assume the worst.
Willow took a step closer to Faith. There was no distress or disappointment in her eyes, just warm affection. “It’s weird how scary it is to say it. That’s why I needed a plan. You don’t need to say it out loud. You’ve been showing it in other ways for a while now. I’ve been the one who needed to catch up.”
She brought Faith’s hand up to her warm lips and kissed her knuckles gently. The painful twisting in Faith's gut unraveled.
She suddenly realized that Willow wasn’t the only one who was transparent. And that it could be oddly comforting to be seen and understood so clearly.