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The world’s about to end, and Faith’s not sure what to do now.
Because Buffy got kicked out of the house, and then she came back with a giant-ass scythe, and somewhere along the way Faith was put in charge of a bunch of poorly-trained teenagers. So, all in all, a productive pre-apocalypse.
And Faith can’t sleep. She doesn’t think anyone can, not tonight, (except for Anya, apparently), so she pulls out her iPod and heads out to the balcony. And then she stops abruptly because Buffy’s sitting out here all alone.
“Hey, B,” she says as she moves out of the door, and Buffy doesn’t look back at her. “You want some company?”
Buffy doesn’t respond for long enough that Faith considers heading back inside, but then she says, “Sure,” and moves over on the stairs.
Faith sits down next to her, and she’s not exactly sure what to say, so she takes out one of her earbuds and offers it to Buffy, who takes it wordlessly. They sit there for a few minutes, listening to Kurt Cobain croon and wail, and who else should they listen to at the end of the world but Nirvana?
Buffy speaks up suddenly. “I feel stupid and contagious.” Faith looks at her questioningly, and she continues, “Stupid because I know I’m leading these girls to their deaths. And contagious because death was supposed to be my gift, and now I’m about to spread the Slayer curse to everyone.”
Faith furrows her brow. “You don’t really think it’s a curse, do you?”
Buffy half-sighs, half-laughs. “No, not really. But it’s… not mine anymore.” She turns to Faith. “It’s yours.” Faith’s about to protest, but Buffy pulls the headphone out, standing up and walking to the other end of the balcony, so Faith follows suit. And Buffy has her determined face on, so arguing is already going to be pointless. “That means this is yours too,” Buffy says, and Faith’s eyebrows raise as she realizes what Buffy’s holding.
It’s the scythe. The one that Buffy had gone alone to get. The one that Faith hadn’t wanted to risk pursuing. And Buffy’s offering it to her.
“Buffy,” Faith starts, at a loss for words, “I can’t take this.”
“Yeah, you can,” Buffy says, pushing the scythe forward, and Faith’s hands wrap around the weapon before she’s even realized it. And it feels so painfully right that Faith knows that it’s not for her.
“No, I can’t,” she says, pushing it back towards Buffy. “I’m not you.”
“No, you’re not,” Buffy agrees. “And you’re a damn good Slayer.” Faith looks up at her in surprise, and she continues, “The Slayer line runs through you–or at least it will until tomorrow. This is yours.”
And Faith still thinks this is a bad choice, but who’s she to keep arguing with Buffy? She takes the scythe, feeling the rush of power run through her veins, and a small smile flickers across her lips. “Thank you.”
“Just… don’t die,” Buffy says, something in her expression that Faith can’t quite read.
“We won’t die,” Faith says, her eyes drinking in the scythe before she looks up at Buffy.
Buffy scoffs. “That’s optimistic.”
“I learned it from you.” Faith shrugs. “And y’know, I would say you gotta have faith, but you have me already.”
One. Two. Blink. Three. Blink. Four. Five.
Buffy bursts into laughter, and Faith quickly joins her, and they might die tomorrow and the world might cease to exist, but here they are, making terrible jokes and listening to Nirvana together on Buffy’s porch.
“That was so bad,” Buffy gasps, and Faith agrees wholeheartedly, but what can she say? She couldn’t help herself. It takes a while, but they settle down, and Buffy says, “Well, since we’re not gonna die…” She pauses, and Faith’s brow furrows as she wonders what’s coming next. “Can I take you out to dinner after all of this?”
Faith’s eyebrows raise again, and she was not expecting that but she’d be lying if she said that she hasn’t wanted this ever since she met Buffy. So the only thing that she can think of saying is “Yes.”
Buffy smiles, bright and wide, and Faith feels its warmth wash over her as she ends up smiling too. Buffy pecks her on the cheek, still beaming, and says, “It’s a date!” before disappearing inside.
And Faith’s sure she’s grinning like an idiot as she puts her headphones back in, but it doesn’t matter to her as she stares at the scythe in her hands.
“It’s a date.”