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"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity."
(william butler yeats)
*
The house is crowded. When it was just her and her mom, the house was often quiet. Though Joyce tried to be home, Buffy was always throwing her bag of stakes out her bedroom window and disappearing into the night. It wasn't like the house was ever empty empty. Willow, Xander, Angel, even Cordy showed up sometimes in the beginning. Buffy runs her hand along the banister as she heads downstairs and tries to sneak outside before Dawn can find her and foist breakfast on her. Oz, Tara, Spike, Giles, Riley, Amy, Dawn, Anya - the list goes on and on. People have lived and died in this house. Many of them. Demons have lived and died in this house. Many of them. Buffy doesn't forget anyone anymore, not even Ted.
There are sleeping bags in the hallways, and pillows in corners. The dining room looks like an ancient library and some computers exploded together. Books, notes in fifteen different handwriting - not to mention the ones in other languages entirely. It feels like home, and it's never been home. Home is where the heart is, she thinks. She heads outside in the sun to see how the Potentials are feeling today. To see how Faith is doing being a teacher, a role Buffy never thought she'd ever see.
To pretend everything is going according to plan.
*
Dawn brings everyone lunch from Subway and pointedly watches Buffy eat. Buffy sticks her tongue out and rolls her eyes, "Happy, Miss Dictator? I should get you a little mustache," and Dawn smiles hopefully. Buffy knows it's hopeful, because it reaches her eyes. Dawn rarely smiles like that anymore.
Faith turns the Potentials over to Giles, who starts in with the history of some demons and where to attack, blah blah blah. Even though Buffy's older now, wiser now, even though she knows the value of Giles, she can't help herself. Lectures bore her. She'd rather be fighting it out somewhere than sitting still. But letting the Potentials know that wouldn't be smart. Buffy has to be A-OK, on board, with the team, exclamation point! She has to let them believe they have a chance. Who knows, maybe they do.
Buffy lets out a harsh laugh and Giles quickly looks at her. She whispers, "sorry," and raises her hands in placation. He gives her a stern face and turns back to the lesson at hand. Buffy closes her eyes and leans back on the palm of her hands. She decides to tan. Screw death by skin cancer, she needs her vitamin D. Besides, she's always looked better with a tan, and if she's learned one thing about dying, you might as well look your best because you never know what'll happen.
Head tilted toward the sky, she breathes. Sunnydale smells a certain way. It's a smell she's learned to love, to associate with the people she loves. With being loved.
Someone plops down beside her. Buffy doesn't open her eyes. Faith's leather pants have their own smell, and yet it doesn't seem out of place.
"What a rag-tag bunch you've got here, B. How could we have possibly ever been this bad?" Buffy opens her eyes a slit and looks over. Faith looks more than comfortable in her black pants and white tank, head tilted upward like Buffy's own. As if they are flowers in a dark room. Buffy closes her eyes again.
"They have potential."
"Yeah, that's all they have. Hence the name, 'Potentials'. Still not paying attention in class, B?" Faith's voice is smokey and drawn out, oozing cockiness and leaking vulnerability. Buffy wonders what smell makes Faith feel like home, feel loved. She wonders if anything does.
"Anyway, I just came back to report that while no obvious progress has been made in the last, say, oh, thirty minutes, Willow is sure she's got the right book now and it's just a matter of time before everything gets clear. Oh, and Dawn wanted you to have this."
Buffy opens her eyes and catches the ice cold water bottle tossed at her. Faith nods approvingly. "Nice reflexes. Glad to see that hasn't changed either." And then she's walking into the house, Buffy's house, like it's her own, the screen door slamming behind her.
Catching a water bottle is child's play, even with closed eyes. That would never change for Buffy. Other things change though. Like Faith. She's half afraid Faith is going to crack one day in training and kill off half the potentials. She's more afraid of the calm Faith projects. Faith used to be lightning in a bottle, just waiting for Buffy to release her, hitting the first thing she found. Faith used to laugh more, break the rules more, smile more. She also used to be in jail, so Buffy supposes it's a trade-off.
The water feels good on her lips, and she drinks the bottle without a thought. Realizing she's still thirsty and Giles is still droning on, this time about some old clan in Japan that dealt with a demon that was half-spider/half-samurai, or something like that, Buffy decides to go back into the house and thank Dawn. Making her sister happy is easy these days; she should try to do it more often.
Buffy catches the screen door before it slams, gently letting the latch settle into place.
"Dawnie?" There's no response, but she hears voices in the room that used to have the couch and the tv and is now the bedroom of five girls who speak five different languages. Buffy hears Willow's voice and assumes she's talking to Kennedy. She keeps walking but then stops. It's not Kennedy - Kennedy is outside, with the other Potentials. Willow never lets her skip out on Giles' lessons, though Buffy is always inclined to give her a pass. Besides, Kennedy sleeps in Willow's room. Joyce's old room. Everyone is in a room that used to be something else. Everyone, that is, except Buffy.
"Seriously? You want to know what it felt like to kill someone? No offense here, Willow, but didn't you kill someone yourself?"
Buffy freezes. It's Faith. Of course, it's Faith.
"No offense taken. It's just that, well, I used magic to kill Warren. And magic was kind of, no, is kind of like a drug for me, you know?"
Faith laughs. "So what you're saying is, you were totally stoned out of your mind and don't remember a thing."
Willow's answer is almost too quiet to hear. "No, I remember some things." Faith is quiet for a moment.
"Not something I talk about much, but I guess if anyone was to hear it, it makes sense that it's you. It was a mistake, you know. That guy in the alley. Buffy and I were running and there were vamps everywhere. I guess I was a little hyped too. If magic was your drug, adrenaline was mine. If you keep moving, they can't find you, right? Stay on your toes, strike first, kill or be killed. All things you use as a slayer. All meant to be used against the big badness. But you still have those skills, right? And you're running and it's dark and even with your slayer senses, you make mistakes."
Buffy doesn't breathe. Faith's voice hasn't risen, hasn't done anything super dramatic. She's stating facts, but there's something in her voice that makes Buffy wonder if Faith was broken before she was even a Slayer, and if it can ever be fixed.
"So I'm the adrenaline junkie and there's this guy that I swear pops out of nowhere - though B knew, because if I'm good, B's better, and besides, it's never been about the glory for her. It's all duty, the Chosen One, yadda yadda yadda. Sometimes I swore she was like Giles' little parrot following me around. 'Don't be reckless, Faith. Don't be stupid, Faith. Face your fears, Faith. Trust us, Faith.' And I wanted to, I really did. But I'm not B. Our wires are different, always have been. Not bad, just the truth. I saw something move quickly in front of me and I thought it was a vamp. I staked him, staked him good. Didn't even notice how much more pressure I had to exert. Adrenaline, remember? Tricky thing, that, especially when paired with slayer strength."
Faith takes a breath. "I guess what I mean is, I don't know. I know I didn't feel the way everyone expected me to after. I didn't call the police. I ran. If anyone really knew me, they would have expected that. But I was new and this whole things was new still to everyone and you were right to be wary of me. But I didn't mean to kill him. Later, it was different. Later, I knew what I was doing. And it wasn't because I didn't know. It wasn't a series of mistakes. Well, life mistakes, yeah. But I did it for love."
She laughs bitterly. "I mean, I sound entirely ridiculous -"
"No! I know I was just reacting because they killed Tara and the pain -"
"That's the difference." Faith's voice is different now, harder. There's an edge that could cut diamond. "You did it as revenge, because they stole your love from you. You wanted it back. I never had it. I did it because I wanted to be loved. Because I thought he would love me. Because I thought he knew who I was, who I really was, and he loved me anyway. I thought I was just being true to my nature. And yeah, I wanted him to keep loving me. So I did what he wanted. But that's the difference, Will. I never had love to lose in the first place.
"Don't. I know what you are going to say. It is what it is. But that doesn't drive me anymore. Do I still crave the adrenaline? Hell, yeah. Do I still want someone to love me? It's a stupid question. The difference is, I know now. I know what adrenaline does to me. I know what outside approval does. I know, so I can make choices. You were the bookworm. You had the plaid and glasses and everything. Wasn't this in one of your books? Didn't you read something trying to find the answer on how to fix Faith?"
Willow laughs. "You have no idea how many books I tried to check out of UC-Sunnydale's library before I just gave up and hit the net."
Faith gives a little laugh. "Please spare me the details of your diagnostic conclusions. I've had enough of the shrinking to last me a lifetime." She pauses. "Maybe more."
"Well, apparently when my heart gets broken, watch out. Black Willow comes out and doesn't want to play nice," Willow says. "What do you think that says about what's inside me? The real me? Definitely shrink-worthy, I would think."
"I wouldn't know," Faith replies. "I never thought I had a heart to be broken." Buffy hears the sound of leather on leather, and Willow starts saying something when Buffy jumps, spins around, startled by a poke on her shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?" Dawn munches on an apple. "One a day keeps the doctor away!"
Buffy forces a smile. "I was looking for you," and it isn't a lie, and Buffy's relieved because she's tired of lying. "You want to bust out of here for a bit? I thought maybe I could take my favorite sister to -"
"Oh no you don't. I am your only sister and this means you are trying to keep me from doing something or figuring something out. Well too bad, Buffy. I'm in this, whether you like it or not. I was the one that found Amanda after all. So what if I'm not a potential Slayer? I have potential. I have lots of potential. Potential you don't even know yet! And-"
Buffy smiles, for real this time. "Can we just go somewhere and eat apples and braid each other's hair and pretend we're just two sisters instead of two sisters fighting off the impending apocalypse?"
Dawn looks at her. "Fine. But I'm still suspicious. I know more than you think. And while we're out, how about ice cream instead of apples? I mean, I have eaten one already."
"Let's go, Dawnie." Buffy pushes her gently toward the side door. No need to go out the front. No need to see Faith and Willow. None at all.
*
"It might not work," she says, staring wide at the ceiling fan in the dark. It's off; there is no movement. Faith doesn't move beside her. "Everyone will probably die. And who's to say it'll be worth it? Caleb is so . . . so creepy and freaky and even if we stop him there will be more because there are always more and it's not just vamps and demons anymore, you know? So let's say this all works out for the best, which Dawn is repeating over and over under her breath, probably even now as I'm talking and she's supposed to be sleeping, and then what? We've finished one big bad. There will be more. And now there are all these little girls, I mean, I know we were young, but it's only supposed to be one in every generation, yadda yadda, you know the slayer mojo myth stuff, and this so isn't going to work so they're all going to die and it's all -"
"We've already broken all the rules, B. I mean, you did with that Kendra chick. You've died how many times now? And who knows if another slayer would have been called up if, god forbid, I died, because isn't that why I became the Chosen One too? The Chosen Two, you've always known that didn't work." Buffy feels Faith shrug beside her. "I want to go out fighting, you know? I know what I'm up against this time. No illusions of Caleb liking me or anything. Nope, it's kill or be killed. I know where I'm at. I know where those girls are at. And have you seen them lately? Even Vi's getting pretty kick-ass, and I never thought I would say that. So yeah, the odds aren't in our favor. Who gives a fuck about odds?"
Buffy thinks about turning on the fan.
"The odds say you and I can't be here together. There are no odds for this, B." Faith shifts and her hand is on Buffy's shoulder, and it should feel awkward, or wrong, but it doesn't. It's just there, like Faith is there and the Badness is there and the First is there and the ceiling fan is there. "And as I recall, we were pretty much unstoppable together. Plus, I found a higher power in prison! I'm more sane, that has to reassure you, right?" Faith forces a laugh and squeezes Buffy's shoulder.
"No," she says softly. "You were always crazy. Teetering on edges."
"Still am, B. Why do you think I'm here?"
And Buffy hears the attempt at a smile. Faith's hand is warm on her shoulder and Faith is the first thing that's felt real besides the fact that she might be sending everyone she loves in the entire world to their death. Oh, and the world might end on top of it all.
Buffy leans forward and finds Faith's lips with her own. They push back, and it begins. It begins, and Buffy finds it comfortable, strangely familiar. This is the dance they have performed so many times, all the more dangerous because they know each other's weaknesses, strengths. How to play off each other. Different only in its form.
Faith parries back, her tongue and breath hot against Buffy's ear. It's been so long and tensions have been so high that Buffy almost comes right then, but Faith doesn't let her. As soon as the heat's there, as soon as it registers, it's gone, and then as Buffy sits up to take off her shirt, Faith's tongue is tracing the t-shirt's trail up her body. Buffy bites her lip. The house is crowded. There are people around. There are people everywhere in this house. And they are the Slayers. The Chosen. They are the examples.
Faith sucks at one of Buffy's nipples, her hands pinning Buffy's above her head. Buffy lets her, arching into Faith's mouth, all resolve gone. Buffy breaks her wrists free, reaching for Faith's shoulders to pull her close. She lets herself moan in Faith's ear, wrapping her legs around Faith's hips. Faith doesn't break rhythm, her fingers twisting in and out, a thumb rubbing hard circles. Buffy bites Faith's shoulder, breaking skin, and Faith presses harder until Buffy is shuddering silently against her, breathing uneven and thoughts ragged.
She isn't ready for it to be over yet, isn't ready to go back to certainty of the reality they face. She traces Faith's hipbones, her ribs. She is gentle where Faith was rough, she kisses where Faith left bruises. Faith tracks her movements with her dark eyes, twisting her fingers in Buffy's hair. Buffy's hands are strong and sure, Slayer hands, capable hands, killing hands. She has Faith beneath her and her hands roam freely, everywhere, nowhere, all at once. Faith can't stay still, can't keep from writhing on the sheets in Buffy's high school bedroom underneath Buffy's hands. A light breath between Faith's legs, and Faith is quivering, shivering on the edges she so loves. A flick of the tongue and Faith is motionless, breathless, spent.
They lie breathing in the dark. Buffy rolls on her side, away from Faith.
Faith lightly touches her hair. Buffy thinks it's a lie that blondes have more fun. She definitely didn't win the fun jackpot. Then again, neither did the brunette or the redhead. She sighs.
"It's going to be bad, B," Faith whispers. "I know." It sounds like she's looking away from Buffy, and she has a sudden urge to turn and tell Faith everything will be all right. That they have each other's back. That they've been through worse. That they are slayers, they were born for this. But the words get stuck in her throat.
"People are going to die. I'm going to feel responsible. You're going to feel responsible." Faith's touch is suddenly gone, and Buffy feels the loss like an ache. "But we don't make decisions for everyone. We don't. We didn't decide to become slayers. Those girls didn't decide. But we are deciding to fight. And so is Willow, Xander, that crazy demon girl Anya - I swear, B, rabbits? - Dawn, Giles, freakazoid Andrew, even Spike. Agency, Buff. It's what make a hero a hero."
The room is tomb-silent. Buffy gives in and turns to Faith, trying to find her eyes in the darkness.
"I'm not a hero, Faith. I'm just . . . me. They all look up to me, and less than a year ago I hated my friends and family for bringing me back to life! I'm not a cat. I was supposed to die. That's why you are here, you said it yourself. We aren't supposed to exist, Faith. This is wrong. But there's nothing I can do." She doesn't want to cry, really, that's so ninth grade, but her eyes are watering and see? How can she be a hero if she can't even control her tears?
Faith pulls Buffy close to her, her strong arms wrapping Buffy tightly. Buffy closes her eyes.
"You choose, B. We all choose. That's what makes us heroes."
Buffy lets the tears fall. The room is quiet again, the only sound the snuffling of her nose, and the rhythm of Faith's heartbeat. She keeps her eyes closed, and lets Faith hold her like this. Lets Faith pretend for a minute that everything is okay. Morning will come soon enough, and they will both have to face the harsh reality of teenagers, growth spurts, ancient weapons and the impending apocalypse currently consuming their lives.
But right now, they are two girls that shouldn't be alive, shouldn't exist, not really. They are two girls who were once very young. They thought they had the world in the palm of their hand, leather pants and platform sandals, sugar and spice, naughty and nice. They thought together, they were invincible.
Right now, they are older. They know better, know things no one should ever have to know. Right now, they are together again, sugar and spice, naughty and nice, blond and brunette. Buffy doesn't say she doesn't believe in heroes. Faith doesn't say she's looking for the type of redemption that only comes with a six figure payment or a trip to the cemetery.
Right now, they are two girls, against the world.