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Faith remembers the first night she ever came to Buffy’s house.
She’d only been in Sunnydale for a couple of days. Hadn’t had a decent meal since getting off the coach. Or for a couple of weeks before getting on the coach, come to think of it. And, yeah, maybe Buffy’s invitation had seemed a little stiff, a little bit unenthusiastic - maybe she'd got the sense, even then, that Buffy didn't exactly want her around - but she’d still figured it was worth it. Where was the harm in checking out how the other Slayer lived, with a free meal along the way?
She’d already known Buffy had things easier than she did, but she hadn’t really been ready for just how much she had. For just how rich her life was. She remembers looking around the living room before they ate, thinking how big it was – how full of furniture and art and books and framed photos of Buffy and her family – how much smaller and emptier it made the shitty little motel she was sleeping in feel. She remembers sitting opposite Buffy at a huge table, trying to play it cool, while Buffy’s mom kept bringing in bowl after bowl of food from out of the kitchen. She remembers the way Joyce had asked Faith questions while she ate, had seemed interested in her answers in a way Faith doesn’t think most people ever were. In a way nobody had treated Faith before Diana. And she remembers the way Buffy’s kid sister had looked at her while they all ate: like she was the coolest person she’d ever met, maybe the coolest person alive. A superhero, or something.
(From what Faith’s been told, this part didn’t happen. Dawn wasn’t really there. Faith’s not too clear on exactly where she was. But that’s how she remembers it.)
The part with Buffy’s mom had been real though. She’s pretty sure of that. She remembers as well that, weeks later, Joyce had worried about Faith spending the holidays alone and gotten Buffy to invite her over for Christmas. Joyce had always looked out for her. Always cared about her. Now Joyce is dead, and practically the last memory of her Faith has is of holding a knife to her throat and promising to kill her. Just one more evil fucked-up thing she’s done that she’s never going to be able to make right.
Truth is that she’d been kind of awestruck back then, and not just by the house. Not just by Buffy’s family. By all of it. By Buffy’s whole life. She’d even let.herself think that maybe she had a place here. Somewhere safe. Somewhere she belonged, with someone who might … well, whatever. She always had been a little slow. Buffy had made it clear where they really stood soon enough. That there were parts of her life Faith would be tolerated in, if not exactly welcomed, and other parts that were pretty much permanently off limits.
Four years later, the place doesn’t seem quite so big.
These days the Summers’ house has to hold a lot more people than just three. Not just Buffy and her sister, but Willow, Xander and Anya too, plus an ever-growing small army of Potential Slayers. And Faith herself, of course. Somehow she’d made it here after all. It isn’t quite what she’d expected. And not just because it's an awful lot more crowded.
That’s why, when it happens, Faith’s not totally surprised to find Buffy waiting outside the room she’d managed to snag for herself when she first arrived here in the fall. The other Slayer looks at her a little nervously, like she’s about to break some bad news. Still, at least Faith knows it can’t be too terrible. She’s just got back from a late night patrol, and everyone who should be alive in here still is. For now.
“Willow and I have been talking, and … um,” Buffy hesitates. "Do you mind if I sleep in here tonight?"
What Buffy manages not to say – as if everyone in the house didn’t know – is that Red and Kennedy have been getting real serious lately, and not exactly shy about expressing their affections either. They weren't exactly keeping their hands to themselves. So unless Buffy had gotten a lot more relaxed about some things in the last three years – which Faith kind of doubts, whatever that Spike guy says – she could hardly keep sharing her old room with Willow the way she’s been doing since Faith arrived.
Faith rather likes Kennedy, all things considered. She’s got a bit of an attitude on her, sure, and she goes out of her way to get in Buffy’s face a lot more often than she should, but then, Faith would have to be awfully hypocritical to get mad at somebody else for doing any of that. Besides, you need an attitude if you’re going to make it as a Slayer. Need some sort of edge. You need a bit of backbone and self-confidence, just as much as you need the actual superpowers, if you’re planning to live for long. So Kennedy’s all right, as far as Faith’s concerned.
That’s why she reminds herself not to be too mad at the Potential for costing her a comfortable bed at training tomorrow morning. Tells herself she won’t spend too much time thinking up more painful drills tonight. Or at least that she won’t actually make Kennedy do many of them.
"No problem, B," she says now with a casual shrug. "I guess I'll see if there's a spare cot in the basement."
Oddly, that doesn’t seem to be the answer Buffy was hoping for. She frowns, like Faith’s just said something wrong.
(That’s a look that Faith’s had plenty of time to get used to in her years in Sunnydale.)
"No," Buffy tries again. "I meant, maybe I could sleep with you.”
The other Slayer’s eyes widen slightly a second after she says that, which Faith figures means it takes her that long to properly hear what she actually said.
“In the same room, I mean!” the other Slayer clarifies quickly. “That we should share. But not … you know.”
Yeah, Faith knows. She might be slow, but Buffy’s been pretty clear about that. And it’s not like Faith’s ever been exactly subtle about making the offer..
(“What are friends for?” she remembers asking Buffy once, out on patrol, a few nights before everything went bad. On one of the last good nights, before Faith had managed to ruin things forever. And Buffy had just looked at her, the way she always did back then, prim and proper and faintly disapproving, and told her that she thought “that stuff” ruined friendships.
So they both knew where they stood, even back then. At least she’d never been desperate enough to beg.)
“Unless ... that's not weird, is it?” Buffy asks her. “ You wouldn’t mind? You can find somewhere else if you want, or I can, only I–"
Watching Buffy nervously babble, a faint blush still visible on her cheeks, Faith could almost kid herself that no time at all had passed since she first arrived in Sunnydale. That there’s going to be some big test at school that the older Slayer’s all stressed out about. That she doesn’t work there, that she isn’t suddenly old enough to own a house and have a job and be raising her kid sister all by herself. That as late as it is, they could still sneak out to the Bronze after this, just the two of them, and that this time, maybe …
“It’s your house,” Faith says with another shrug, not sure if she wants to think about how she feels about sharing a room with Buffy, even now. “As long as you don’t snore, we’re five by five.”
The familiar way Buffy reacts that – like she’s affronted, but not actually angry – makes Faith think she must’ve managed to hit the right tone this time.
“I don’t snore,” Buffy says firmly. “Anything Dawn says to suggest otherwise is a total lie.”
"That’s okay, B," Faith makes herself grin, trying to hang on to the familiar feeling while she can. "I've shared a cell with girls who do a lot worse than snore."
“Surprised you ain’t sharing a room with Dawn, actually,” she admits, a little bit later, once they’re both inside. “Or one of the Potentials.”
Somebody who isn’t her, she means. Somebody that Buffy might actually like. Somebody she can trust.
“Well, Dawn’s the one who snores,” Buffy says. “And she needs some space of her own. For homework, and for … I just don’t want to take that away from her.”
Faith’s not sure what to say to that. Even before she was Called, she never had the sort of childhood Buffy or her sister had. Never got to be just a girl, the way that they both did. To have the sort of easy life kids have in crappy teen dramas. Not that she’s the only one missing out; she guesses a lot of other girls don’t ever get the chance either. A fair few of the Potentials sleeping under this very roof didn't, for a start.
But watching the way Buffy fights to give Dawn the chance to have that sort of childhood – to protect her from the world, as long as she can – makes Faith feel … well, she isn’t sure. Proud, maybe, but sort of sad at the same time. Because nobody ever fought for that on her behalf. Because there's nobody left to fight for it for Buffy.
She doesn’t know how to explain any of that though. Guesses Buffy would think she would be being presumptive if she tried. So she doesn’t say a word.
“And the other girls … they don’t get it,” Buffy says. “They look at me like I’m something I’m not. Like I’m like Ri– some kind of army guy. A general. Like I’m trying to be special; to put myself above them. They don’t understand what it means to be like us.”
Truth is Faith isn’t sure what it means to be like them. If she knew how to be like Buffy, maybe things a few years ago could’ve worked out differently. She’d convinced herself, for a bit, back in prison, that that’s all she’d ever wanted. To have been like Buffy: so much like her that she didn’t have to think about being herself anymore. To have been so good at pretending to be her better half that she became her.
Then Red had helped bust her out of prison, she’d found herself back in Sunnydale – because Buffy needed her, so what kind of choice did she have? – and she’d had to admit to herself that that wasn’t all she’d wanted. It never had been.
They’re both in bed – on opposite sides of the room, so far apart they couldn’t touch even if they’d wanted to – before the other Slayer speaks again. Buffy had grabbed the bed closest to the window, so to a Slayer’s eyes she’s easy enough to see with the moonlight shining through the curtains. Faith though … well, she's in the dark, isn’t she? That part feels familiar too.
“Is it weird?” Buffy asks her. “Being back here?”
Faith’s glad, suddenly, that Buffy can’t see her in the darkness. Can’t see the sudden guilty look on her face; that she doesn’t have to pretend not to be surprised that her thoughts were so obvious.
“Beats prison, I guess,” she says.
There’s a short silence from the other side of the room.
“Right. I meant to ask. Was it …” Buffy doesn’t finish the question. That’s good. It means Faith doesn’t have to lie to her.
Prison had sucked. Of course it had. Probably would have been a lot worse if Faith hadn’t had her strength and her healing and all the other side-benefits of being a Slayer. Or maybe not. Maybe if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had that same itch, every night. The need to fight, to hunt down demons and monsters, the conviction that she belonged out there, fighting vampires. The false conviction that the world needed her out there, fighting the good fight.
Because it was false. The world had been just fine without her. Because there was only ever supposed to be one of them, and it was never meant to be her. She didn’t have anything good left to offer anyone anyway. She’d belonged in prison. Buffy had said as much. And if Buffy said it, it had to be true, no matter how much it hurt. That was pretty much the one thing Faith had learned since she got here. That Buffy was the good Slayer, and that she was … the other one.
“The other week,” Buffy says slowly, “Anya told me that …”
Faith feels herself tensing up a little. She doesn’t really get Anya. She’s a little odd, even for Sunnydale. She doesn’t remember her from back in the day either. Some of the things she says don’t really make any sense, but she figures that’s none of her business. Hell, apparently the girl was all set to marry Xander Harris. Why should anything she say make any kind of sense? But if she's been bitching about Faith behind her back, if she said something that upset Buffy, then maybe–
“Nevermind,” Buffy says, cutting that thought off. “It’s not important.”
Faith feels herself relaxing slightly, a bit of tension draining out of her. Neither of them speaks for a few more minutes.
"I'm glad you're back, anyway," Buffy says sleepily, just as Faith’s about to nod off herself. "You being here again … it's good. You make me feel safe."
Even at her most pathetic moments behind bars, Faith doesn't think she'd ever let herself imagine Buffy saying that to her.
"Uh, B," she says slowly. “You might wanna rethink that idea. Last I checked, most people in this house are a lot safer to be around than I am. I mean, there’s a reason Dawn leaves the room whenever I come in, and it’s not just because I keep helping myself to that cereal she likes.”
She’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt a little, the whole cold shoulder treatment. Especially since, the way Willow explained it, Dawn’s the one person Faith remembers from her visit to Sunnydale who she didn’t really do anything to. Sure, she remembers saying things to her, waving a knife in her face, but that wasn’t her. It didn’t really happen.
But she gets it. Of course she does. It might not be real, but it may as well be. They both remember it all the same. And it’s nothing she wouldn’t have done, given the chance. She’d done a lot worse, hadn’t she? To people Dawn cared about. To her mom. To Buffy.
“Dawn really liked you,” Buffy says quietly. “She was really hurt when .. you know. But she’ll get over it eventually. She'll forgive you.”
Faith frowns at that. Swallows in the dark.
“Maybe she shouldn’t,” she says. “Maybe I don’t deserve that. The things I did … to Joyce, to you … maybe nobody should forgive me. Maybe there’s some things you just can’t ever make right.”
(She remembers the last meeting with Buffy, years earlier. Back in LA. In Angel’s place. Remembers the look on her face. The tremble of barely suppressed fury in her voice. “Apologize to me,” Buffy had warned her then, “And I will beat you to death.” Maybe it would’ve been easier for them both that way.)
“You’re not planning to do anything like that again though, right?” Buffy says, fighting back a yawn, comfortable now in a way Faith doesn’t remember her sounding for years. For forever, maybe. “I mean, the First isn’t about to talk you into teaming up to take over the world or anything, right?”
"No," Faith says immediately, awake in a way she wasn’t a minute ago. "God no, Buffy. Of course I'd never--"
"So I'm right," Buffy says smugly, and without even turning to look Faith can imagine the satisfied look on her face perfectly. “This is the safest place I can be right now.”
Faith breathes out, slowly.
“Yeah, I guess,” she says.
Some things haven’t changed, Faith figures. However little she likes the thought of being a leader, Buffy sure does love being in control. Faith can’t say she minds too much though. Not really. Deep down, she’s always kind of liked it.
Later, when the other Slayer's fallen asleep, Faith just lays in bed, thinking. Trying to get used to the quiet sounds Buffy makes, lying on the other side of the room. (She doesn't snore, exactly. They're not bad sounds.)
That first year in Sunnydale ... looking back, she'd been so angry, pretty much all the time. At least, as soon as she’d figured out that Buffy wasn’t ever going to accept her into her life the way she wanted. She’d wanted so badly to be seen, the way that she could see Buffy. For the other Slayer to recognize something of herself in Faith, something Faith wasn’t sure she had. Because they were the Chosen Two, the only people in the world like each other, but maybe that wasn’t quite enough.
Because Buffy’s wrong. She is special. Not because she’s the Slayer, not because she's some kind of General, not because she saved the world a whole bunch of times – although that helps, sure – but because of everything else. Because of the things about her that Faith’s never been able to understand, never been able to imitate: the things that make her different from the person Faith is. The things that make her better than Faith is, better than she could ever be. Because she’s Buffy; and because Faith’s not.
Sometimes it feels as though, ever since she arrived in Sunnydale, maybe even before that, Faith’s been nothing but a pale reflection of the older Slayer. A bad imitation; a cheap and nasty knock-off. Sometimes it feels like the only thing Faith’s ever really wanted is for the other Slayer to look at her the way she looks at Buffy. Like she’s the fulcrum on which the whole world rests; the only bright light in a dark and clouded sky.
Thing is, she's never going to be that for Buffy. She gets that now. She's not ever going to be Angel, or Spike, or even that farmhand boytoy Buffy had hooked up with in college. No amount of wishing or anger or dreaming is ever going to change that. It’s just not the way the world will ever work. But maybe that's okay. With everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve any of that anyway. If there was any justice in the world – if Willow hadn’t come to LA last fall, told her that Buffy needed her – she’d still be rotting in a prison cell. When all this is over, maybe that’s exactly where she’ll end up.
Maybe. For now, at least, she gets to be needed. She gets to help. She gets to be part of Buffy’s life after all, even if it’s not in the way she would’ve wanted. She gets to be with Buffy -- on patrol, training the Potentials, and sometimes, when she's lucky, in quiet moments alone like this -- without anybody fighting her or calling the cops on her or trying to drag her back to prison. She gets to listen to her now, breathing quietly as she sleeps. And that's enough. Of course it is. That has to be enough. It's more than she deserves.
This First Evil demon thing wants to go after the Slayer line? It wants to hurt Buffy? Well, let it try. It'll have to come through her first. Plenty of chicks in prison had figured out the hard way that Faith was tougher than she looked. And she's got something to fight for now. She's found somewhere that she belongs. If Buffy wants her to play watchdog again, then that’s something she can do.
Faith falls asleep watching Buffy, committing the sight of her face bathed in moonlight to memory. Because she knows that, however things go from here, this was one of the good nights. This is a moment she isn’t going to want to forget.
And when Faith sleeps, she dreams. She dreams of coming around to Buffy’s house again, the way she had that first night, and doing things all over. She dreams of Homecoming, and Christmas dinners, and dancing side by side at the Bronze. She dreams of being brave enough to say how she feels instead of muttering an awkward “nothing” to an already closing door. Faith dreams of Buffy Summers and second chances, with a smile on her face that she can’t know mirrors the smile of the Slayer sleeping across from her.
For now, in this moment, maybe that’s enough.