one more time

By this point, Faith’s done almost everything she can think of to get it to stop. Which, honestly, is a short list: she redid the first day and held the dagger firm, instead of plunging it into Finch’s chest; she got Giles to research time loops to no avail; she tried staying up past midnight, as though that would magically solve the issue. Beyond dying, Faith can’t think of anything else that’d end it – and she’s not willing to risk that one.

Nothing worked. Six days, and Faith’s already climbing walls. She’s never been good at this type of shit. Staying still sucks, it’s never been in her nature. She’s been running for as long as she can remember, dodging pans, and shop attendants, then Kakistos, and everything that happened in Boston.

She ran after Post’s betrayal too. She’s still not sure why she came back. She’d been humiliated in front of Buffy and her little mismatch group of friends, left alone in her motel room biting back tears. She’d packed a bag that same night and caught a bus to LA. She spent two weeks hopping between guys in lieu of paying for lodging, and found, for maybe the first time in her life, these were feelings she couldn’t bury in sex.

So she’d gone back to Sunnydale and tried to look Buffy dead in the eye and show her she didn’t care that Buffy had seen through her façade. It worked, too. She’d found some level ground with Buffy, even if the girl was far too occupied with her ancient vamp-boyfriend. Faith had still manage to needle her way into Buffy’s life, satiating her boredom of Sunnydale with Buffy’s grins, and late night patrols.

Then this happened.

Well, the murder first. Then the time loop.

Both have the capacity to ruin Faith’s life.

The issue is, they’re intertwined. Faith can’t have one without the other. She’s either a murderer, or stuck. That’s her current theory, anyway.

The time loop felt like a blessing that first day, when she woke up with clean hands, and a way to shed that label. Turns out just because no one else remembers it doesn’t mean Faith can just forget it. She still looks in the mirror and sees a killer.

It takes five more days (eleven, then, in total) before Faith does it again.

It’s self preservation, she tells herself. She can’t stay stuck in one day forever. Maybe Finch was always supposed to die. Maybe she was always supposed to kill him.

Then Day 12 comes, and Faith wakes up in the same shitty motel room, to the same shouting from next door. Faith doesn’t make it to the sink before the bile rises to her throat and reminds her of who she is now. Just because no one’s death is on her hands, doesn’t mean she isn’t a murderer. That’s a label that never goes away, no matter how many times Faith starts the day anew.

Day 16

Faith poses the question to the table. She’s become an expert at distracting the Scoobies from their work. “What would you do if you were reliving the same day over and over?”

Xander perks up. He’s less enthusiastic when he registers it’s Faith who asked the question, but he can’t stop himself from saying, “Like Groundhog Day?”

Willow “Oohs”, placing down her book and pausing to consider Faith’s question. Buffy, whilst visibly less intrigued, takes the excuse to pause her studying. Xander quickly follows suit, throwing his books to the side.

“I would learn a skill.”

“Like a language?” Faith has no interest in learning Spanish or Chinese or something. She’s not keen on planes, so it’s not like there’s any use in languages.

“Yep! Or, learn coding. Or become super good at maths. Or,” Willow continues to list a dozen things that Faith has no real interest in.

She turns to Xander, who flushes bright red under her gaze. She didn’t realise having sex with him was such a big deal, but Xander’s eyes widen every time he looks at her as if he can’t comprehend that he’s seen her naked.

Faith ignores his fluster. “What about you?”

Xander’s answer is predictably limited, and Faith resents having to wait an extra two minutes for him to be able to verbalise it. “I’d watch movies. And steal sweets and stuff knowing no one would tell me off.”

“But you could do anything,” Willow says, half a reprimand.

“And I could steal sweets,” Xander retorts. “There’d be no consequences. I wouldn’t even get fat.”

Buffy goes quiet at that. She’s probably imagining having a free go at Angel without needing to worry about his soul. Faith scoffs at the thought. Buffy’s relationship with Angel sucks the fun out of her. Faith thinks it’s only inevitably until the big guy sucks something else too. He’s a vampire for fuck’s sake. How is that boyfriend material?

“What’d you do, Buffy?”

“Skip school,” Buffy says after a beat. Faith’s sure it’s the second answer that comes to her head. “Beach day.”

“Days,” Faith reminds her. It’s not one day repeated, it’s an endless repetition of the same day with no end in sight.

Buffy just shrugs. “Beach days.”

She’s still not giving Faith the real answer. Faith wonders if it’s because Willow and Xander are here – they’re still pretty adverse to Angel – but realistically, it’s more likely it’s Faith’s presence that’s zipping her lips shut.

Willow shakes her head. “No, you’re doing it all wrong. You go to school, and learn a whole bunch of stuff. Then when you escape the time loop, you’d be super ahead of everyone else. Everyone would think you’re a genius. You could get into any university, or job.”

Faith mulls over the idea, and quickly discards it. She can’t imagine ever getting bored enough that she’d study.

“What about you?”

Faith stiffens under the intensity of Buffy’s stare. She’s not sure what provokes it, but Buffy’s always had a way of knowing when Faith is blustering.

Faith wonders what Buffy’s reading from this situation. She doubts Buffy actually thinks she’s in a time loop. Probably just thinks Faith’s sad or lonely or something. Which… yeah, whatever.

“Dunno,” Faith replies honestly. “Fuck about, steal shit, eat good food for once. Fuck guys,” she adds, just to make Xander’s eyes pop out of his skull. “Stake some vamps.”

Buffy’s still staring at her. “You’d get bored quick.”

Faith grimaces. “Yeah.”

“If I was in a time loop, I’d ask Giles. I bet he’d know a way out of it.”

“What if there was no way out?” Willow postures. Faith startles a little at the reminder Buffy’s friends are still there. “There’s not much reading on time loops. But some people think it’s a purgatory of sorts.”

“Purgatory?” Faith went to a Catholic school when she was a kid. Of course she knows the term. Some waiting room before you get into heaven – or something like that. She just doesn’t understand the relevance.

“If you’ve done something bad,” Willow explains. “It’s a temporary punishment. You can only fix it by becoming better. Then you go to heaven.”

“So, what, you kill someone and then, boom, purgatory?”

They all recoil at Faith’s bluntness.

“No. Killing someone isn’t a minor sin. You’d go to hell for that,” Willow says. “It’s only for small sins.”

“Like stealing sweets,” Xander offers.

“Or pirating Dawson’s Creek,” Buffy says.

Faith doesn’t engage, too busy thinking over Willow’s words.

You’d go to hell for that.

Day 17

Faith’s not even sure why she tries it. The Scoobies’ talk of no consequences keep running through her mind, and all her signals are mixed from the time loop craziness – and Buffy’s there. Buffy’s always there.

Faith never realised that before. She’d seen every time Buffy chose her friends, or Angel, all the times there had been Scooby meetings without her, every time Buffy was absent.

But now all she knows is that Buffy’s always there. No matter what Faith does, no matter how much she tries to avoid Buffy, and change the steps, they still end up walking shoulder-to-shoulder.

Faith’s never had that before. She’s never had someone be there. She didn’t realise how much she wanted it – needed it.

Faith leans in without thinking, and Buffy pushes her away without thinking. They barely kiss. It’s the slightest brush of lips before Buffy’s got her hand on Faith’s chest, pushing her away.

“Faith,” Buffy says, almost a question. Her brows are knitted tight together. There’s a faint imprint of a darker shade of lipstick, like shadows around her lips.

Faith blinks. It takes a moment to catch up. Her mind’s sluggish, playing out the scene in front of her with some disconnect. Like watching a car crash in slow motion; it’s only when splinters from the wreckage hit her that she understands.

Fuck.

Faith jumps to her feet, tries to string together a sentence, some excuse, some joke, but in the end all she can do is stammer, then quickly turn and leave.

Day 18

The thing is, Faith doesn’t like Buffy. Not like that. Sure, she’s thought about kissing her before, but not out of something romantic. Kissing, sex – that stuff – it’s always been more about control than anything else. It’s the only thing Faith has in her arsenal – other than her slayer powers.

She can kiss people, and wrap them around her fingers. She’s never really tried it with girls before – boys are far easier – but there’s something about Buffy that Faith’s always wanted to dig into.

She’s never quite certain on how she wants to dig into Buffy. Just knows that she needs to get her nails under her skin in whatever way possible and scratch away until she finds the truth. Because she knows at least half of Buffy’s act is a façade. She acts prim and proper in front of her friends ‘course, but when they’re in the cemeteries, slaying complete, there’s a hunger in her eyes that no one could deny.

Faith understands hunger.

Hunger was what drove her to kissing Buffy, not control. Faith’s not sure what to do with that knowledge. All she knows is she can’t stand to look Buffy in the eye knowing Buffy pushed her away.

So, for the first time in the time loop, Faith doesn’t see Buffy. Normally she finds her at the school. Sunnydale offers very little for entertainment, and Buffy is the singular exception.

That’s really what drove her to temporary insanity last night, Faith thinks. Buffy’s been the only reprieve to this torture. It’s not like she’d have ever kissed Buffy without this stupid time loop.

Faith just needs some time off from her. It’ll give her time to regain her sanity. Hence today’s avoidance. Of course, Buffy, being the incessant pain in Faith’s ass that she is, has no respect for Faith’s mission. She comes calling just after nightfall.

Faith leaves Buffy knocking for five minutes before swinging open the door. She doesn’t say anything to Buffy, just stares her down until Buffy, confused, and trying to hide her irritation, says meekly, “I thought we agreed to patrol together tonight.”

“Changed my mind.”

Buffy flinches at Faith’s flippancy. Faith hides a smirk.

“Oh.” Buffy looks entirely unsure of what to do with herself now. She tries to peer past Faith into her room. Faith inches the door closed. “Are you busy or…”

“No,” Faith says. “Just don’t wanna hang.”

The hurt on Buffy’s face doesn’t feel as satisfying as Faith expects it too. This was Faith’s retaliation, blow-for-blow. Buffy rejected her, so Faith now rejects Buffy.

“See you tomorrow,” Faith says sardonically. Fucking tomorrow.

“Hey!” Buffy reaches forwards and grabs Faith by the arm before she can close the door. Her grip’s tight, and hot. “What is going on with you?”

Faith grabs Buffy by the wrist, ripping her hand clean from her. “None of your business, blondie.”

Buffy frowns. There’s a moment of decision where Buffy wavers. Faith’s thinks she’s about to leave when Buffy juts her chin out and says, “Yes, it is.”

Faith hates her for that – staying when she should have already left. Faith would’ve gone. They both know it.

“God, you’re so superior. You think you can just go around fixing everyone but you don’t know–”

“I don’t care about everyone. I care about you,” Buffy interrupts. Later, Faith will replay these words a hundred different times. Place different inflections on different words and make it sound like a dozen different things. A confession, a plea. But now, all she hears is Buffy patronising her – again.

“Don’t bother.” Faith shakes her head. “We’re not friends. We’re not anything,” she spits.

Buffy recoils. “Fine,” Buffy says, voice pointedly cold and even. She turns and leaves without another word, probably off to bitch about Faith to Willow.

Faith waits until Buffy’s gone, then leaves her room. She walks off in the opposite direction, no particular destination in mind, just a desire to punch something. She’ll keep walking until she wakes up in her bed and, for as long as she can, Faith will let her guilt twist into resentment at how easily Buffy gave up on her.

Day 19

Faith steals a car, and drives until the last drops of petrol finish out. She’s left alone in some arid desert, no car, or person, or even road left in sight, just the sun burning down at her so viciously Faith’s sure it’s trying to tell her something. But Faith’s never been good at reading in between the lines, so she lets it burn into her skin instead, hoping it’ll eventually tell her what she’s doing wrong.

Instead, Day 20 rolls around, and Faith’s skin, which had been starting to redden and blister, goes back to a pale white, untouched by the sun, and the sand, and Allan Finch’s blood.

Day 24

It’s hard to spend time with Buffy and not think about the imprint of her lips. It was such a brief moment, it’s ridiculous that Faith’s spending so much time thinking about it. She’s kissed dozens of people. It never means anything. She gets up the next day and brushes it all off. Except she just can’t seem to brush this off.

She also can’t keep avoiding Buffy forever. Buffy inevitably finds her, and as much as Faith tries to push her away, it gets harder each time. Buffy’s face seems moulded to display hurt, and Faith can’t handle seeing her eyes drop in sadness each time Faith’s mean to her.

So, feet heavier than usual, Faith pulls herself to the high school, and waits outside for the final bell to ring. At least this way Buffy has to suffer through an entire day of school; it’s the only punishment Faith doesn’t feel too guilty about giving her.

Faith lets Buffy dictate what they do. Buffy pulls Faith away from Xander and Willow, claiming a need to slay some demons. Faith’s happy enough to do that. Slaying is the one thing she still enjoys – though, less and less each time.

It’s getting far too predictable. Faith knows where the vampires hang out each night, what routes they’ll take. She’s starting to learn their fighting styles too, which move they’ll make when. It’s all becoming far too choreographed. Faith’s always preferred a little chaos.

After, Faith walks Buffy home. There’s an awkward lingering on Buffy’s doorstop that Faith can’t put her finger on. She’s not sure it’s her – she wants to leave. She’s wanted to leave since the second she made contact; hanging with Buffy just makes her feel all itchy and guilty now. But Buffy’s eyes are fixed on Faith, and there’s something magnetic in them. Faith can’t pull away.

It’s the same magnetism that made Faith lean in during that fateful incident. Buffy has a way of pulling, and Faith’s always been pretty malleable when it comes to Buffy’s desires.

“You could sleep,” Buffy starts to say, but then Joyce whips open the door. She offers a grateful smile to Faith for returning her daughter safely, and quickly ushers Buffy inside citing it being a ‘school night’ and Buffy needing to get her rest.

Faith feels the sting just as harsh as the initial rejection, and she recognises it a little better now. She squashes it down before she can put a label on it, but it floats around anyway: Hope.

By the next morning, Faith talks herself out of it. That fleeting moment is forcibly forgotten.

Day 28

Faith really doesn’t know how she’s gotten to this point. She never thought her boredom would enter the realm of socialising with Buffy’s friends. But, she still struggles to look at Buffy and not think about that regrettable kiss, so she’s not really got any other options.

Buffy’s the only interesting part of Sunnydale, and Buffy’s best friend is Willow, so Faith figures she might as well try a taste of Red, see what the fuss is about.

Yeah. She’s that bored.

Faith explains the time loop as briefly as she can. Last time around Willow wouldn’t stop interrupting her to ask questions, all the while asserting how she didn’t believe Faith in the slightest, and ‘knew’ Faith was just trying to mess with her.

Despite Faith’s best efforts to get to the point, Willow’s curiosity hasn’t diminished – unsurprising, given this is the first time for her. She keeps interrupting Faith to ask questions. Faith’s been standing around the high school for almost ten minutes now trying to convince Willow to come with her.

Ten minutes is far too long for a drop out to be at school.

Finally, impatient, Faith gives up on explaining. “Just ditch your test, and come hang with me,” Faith tells her.

Willow turns to her, eyes wide and suspicious. She shakes her head, mouth parting to say something, but before she can, Faith adds, “Yeah, no, I get it. You don’t believe me. But you told me to tell you some story about – fuck. What was it? You and Xander used to get ice cream after school every Thursday, or something equally sickeningly cute, and one time something happened and…” Faith trails off. God, she should’ve paid more attention.

“So, you’re saying you’re in a time loop, and I gave you a secret code to prove to me that you were in a time loop, but you didn’t listen to me?” Willow crosses her arms.

Faith smiles sheepishly. “You wanna give me an easier code?”

Willow huffs. “Fine. This is not me saying I believe you. But say you are telling the truth, the password is ‘phlebotinum’.”

Faith quirks an eyebrow. “You have a password for a time loop?”

Willow’s cheeks pinken. “It was Xander’s idea.” Her voice is high and defensive. This is why Faith doesn’t hang out with Buffy’s friends. They’re all so sensitive and nerdy.

But it’s been four weeks now. Four weeks of just Buffy. Which was fine – more than fine, really – until Faith almost kissed her. Now every time she sees Buffy, the question lingers over her head: why? And like most tests, Faith doesn’t know the answer.

Faith’s not sure she wants to know the answer. It feels… destructive. Like it’ll change her entire understanding of world order. All Faith wants is a distraction, and she’s sure as hell not gonna get one sitting across from Buffy, staring at her lips and remembering how they felt pressed against her own.

“Yeah, okay – whatever. I’ll go talk to you tomorrow-today. The answer to number ten is ‘C’, by the way.” Faith salutes, and walks away. She has no idea what the answer to number ten is.

Day 29

“Phleghminem,” Faith says.

Willow frowns. “Are you having a seizure?”

“Phleghminem,” Faith repeats. Willow’s frown grows. “The password to your time loop thing that Xander made you have…”

“Phlebotinum,” Willow says, then slaps a hand over her mouth.

Faith claps her hands together. “Yeah. That one.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“Tomato-tomahto.”

“Phleghminem-phlebotinum.”

Faith shrugs. “Look, I know you have a password for a time loops. And I got the right vibe, so, the way I figure, you should just suck it up, ditch your test, and come hang.”

Willow’s eyes narrow. “Not that I believe you… but, hypothetically, if you are in a time loop, just how bored are you that you want to hang out with me?”

“I’m not bored.” Willow raises her eyebrows. “It’s been like, four weeks.”

“I’d have thought you’d have lasted way longer before resorting to little ol’ me,” Willow says. “Not that I believe you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m avoiding B, and Xander’s weird so–”

Willow leans forwards, a glint in her eyes. The prospect of gossip is enough to make temporarily forget her aversion to Faith. “Why are you avoiding Buffy?”

Faith tenses. “No reason.”

Willow edges even further forwards. “Did you two fight or something?”

“We always fight.”

Willow leans back, a contemplative expression on her face. “You do,” she says. “So what could have happened between you that’s led to you avoiding her…” she ruminates.

Faith weighs up her options. Hell, it’s not like Willow’s going to remember tomorrow. “You ditch school, grab lunch with me, and I’ll tell you.”

“I have a test–”

“You have a perfect GPA,” Faith cuts her off. “You can miss a test. The teachers like you so much they’ll probably let you retake tomorrow anyway – not that it’ll be a problem, because tomorrow will literally never come.”

Willow mulls it over. Eventually she agrees to Faith’s logic – though not before making a pitstop to the nurse’s office and feigning an illness. Faith, slightly bitter, thinks Buffy took far less convincing. But Buffy’s not really an option right now, so Faith will just have to suck it up.

Willow makes Faith pay, because – in her logic, that Faith really can’t argue with – if this really is a time loop, it doesn’t matter anyway.

Faith had already nabbed some guy’s wallet earlier in the day, so she splashes out on some of the nicer looking cakes, and carries everything over to the table Willow’s grabbed for them.

Willow’s taken the time to jot down questions on her notebook. She forces Faith to work through them all. She’s thoroughly disappointed at Faith for not journalling her experience – until Faith reminds her that ink is just as impermanent as everything else is.

Somehow, the thing that stumps Willow the most, beyond all the time loops and Faith’s evasiveness about how this started – there’s no way Faith’s going to tell Miss Morality about killing Finch – is this: “You haven’t spoken to Xander yet?”

“Why would I speak to Xander?” Faith can think of a hundred things she’d do before speaking to Xander. Especially in his current nonverbal, mouth gaping wide open, ‘I’ve seen Faith naked’ phase. Unfortunately, that phase is currently indefinite – so yeah, no way is Faith gonna talk to Xander.

“Because he’s way into those kind of movies,” Willow says. “And in those movies there’s always a guy who’s into those movies, and that guy always has the perfect piece of advice to help the protagonist.”

“So, Xander’s going to play the part of wise guru or whatever and save the day?” Faith snorts. Yeah right. “You saw how useful he was with the whole apocalypse last week, didn’t ya?”

Willow’s eyes narrow. “Xander’s very useful. He’s Mr Useful.” Faith levels her with a look. Willow deflates. “He tries. And he’s a good guy, so he’ll help you even though you’re…” Willow trails off, eyes widening slightly. She averts her gaze from Faith, suddenly extremely interested in her carrot cake.

Faith grins. “It’s alright. You can call me a bitch if you want. I’d probably like you more if you did,” Faith tells her.

Willow, sadly, doesn’t engage. Instead, in the least subtle attempt at deflection that Faith’s ever seen, Willow says, “So what’s the sitch with you and Buffy?”

Pathetically it – the least subtle attempt at deflection that Faith’s ever seen – actually works.

Faith freezes up. “Nothing.”

“We’ve already established things are not nothing-thingies. Oh, and before we start, full disclaimer, I’m on her side.”

Faith scowls at Willow. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure.” Willow doesn’t hide her scepticism.

“I did something,” Faith admits. “But nothing bad.”

Well, Faith murdered someone, so that’s not entirely true. But somehow that’s not the thing that’s preoccupying her the most right now. She calls this the ‘Buffy Summers’ effect. Everyone gets so fixated on her they forget about the actual significant stuff.

“So you’re being way avoidy because you did something not-bad to Buffy?”

“I did something embarrassing, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Willow frowns. “But, if you’re in a time loop, then she doesn’t remember, so why does it even matter?”

“Because I remember, okay? And every time I see her, I replay that moment, and it makes me want to scratch my skin off and claw my eyes out.”

Willow pulls a face. “Less imagery please.”

Faith rolls her eyes. “So you can fight against demons but not hear some poetry?”

This is why Faith prefers Buffy. She’s not scared to get her hands dirty. Willow lives more in some ideal world where she doesn’t really have to acknowledge the evil shit Faith and Buffy fight every day.

It’s weird, given her witchy-stuff. Willow’s getting more and more powerful. She is useful in a fight. She’s just not very useful when discussing a fight. Faith (and Buffy) like the gory debriefs.

“Yep,” Willow says. “Are you going to tell me what you did?”

“Nope.”

“Why not? I won’t remember…”

“Because…”

Faith doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why she can’t say it aloud – or even think about it too much in her head. Every time her mind starts to replay the incident (as she’s now decided to call it) she mentally runs away into some new topic.

Yesterday she voluntarily thought about her mom instead of having to deal with mentally working through the whole Buffy situation.

“I don’t even understand it,” Faith admits. She thought she did. She figured it was just the rejection that stung, but it’s not like Faith hasn’t been rejected before. If she can get over her mom disowning her, then she can get over Buffy Summers pushing her away.

Except, Faith’s making very little progress on that front. The incident is still the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up in the morning. It’s the only thing she can think about when she sees Buffy. And it’s not the pushing away that Faith keeps thinking about. It’s Buffy’s lips, soft, and warm; they’ve poisoned Faith.

“Well, why don’t you try talking about it? It might help,” Willow says, her voice more gentle than Faith’s ever heard directed at her.

“Because if I talk about it, it’s like it actually happened. And then I have to deal with it. And I can’t do that. So…” Faith forks a big enough slice of cake into her mouth that she won’t have to talk for a good thirty seconds.

Willow keeps pestering, and Faith – despite her earlier promise to spill – keeps deflecting. Denial and repression are two of Faith’s favourite pastimes. Willow, Faith realises, is far too thoughtful to ever enable Faith in that way. She’s too persistent. It makes for a terrible distraction, and Faith quickly decides to never do this again.

Day 38

Faith hunts him down. She’s never done that before. She’s not sure if she’s surprised it took her thirty eight days, or if she’s surprised she’s even doing it, or maybe, she’s not surprised at all.

This feels inevitable. There’s an eerie excitement to it all. Faith’s missed the chase.

Everything’s been so predictable. All the vampires wake up at the same time, and take the same routes. Faith’s bored of it all. She hasn’t been able to hunt in a full month, and really, what is a slayer if they aren’t hunting.

She knew he was the deputy mayor. She’d learned that in the first week. It wasn’t hard to look him up in the phone book, find his address, and stalk his house.

He comes home from work at lunchtime. Maybe he’s collecting data, or hiding out from the mayor. Faith doesn’t care. She walks in through the front door, no need for pretences.

His eyes widen when he sees her, recognition dawning in them. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, which quickly fades as his eyes track down her body to where her hand is wrapped around a knife. Her palm is clammy, and the grip keeps loosening, so Faith turns the knife over in her hand, again and again, as she walks up to him.

“Wait,” he pleads. Faith plunges the knife into his chest. She knows how to find the heart. It’s not hard to make it a deathblow.

Faith helps him collapse to the floor, and sits opposite him. He’s stammering around words that will never be fully formed.

“Don’t worry,” Faith says. “None of this counts. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Tomorrow doesn’t exist, Faith corrects. The message is the same.

Faith waits with Finch whilst he takes his last breath. The frown never leaves his face the entire time. There’s confusion, and pain, and a dozen more emotions flickering around the room, none of which Faith lets touch her. She sits a safe distance away, cleans the knife off on his pants, and never gets so close that his blood gets underneath her fingernails.

Faith stays in the room with his body until night falls, and the clock hands still.

Tomorrow is a new day, but tomorrow still won’t come.

Day 39

“Faith,” Buffy greets. Faith’s been waiting in the courtyard for the past hour. She stands up as Buffy approaches.

“Hey, B,” Faith says with forced easiness. “How was the test?”

Sometimes Faith steals her away before the test, other times she makes Buffy sit through it. It’s some silent punishment that Buffy will never know Faith is inflicting on her.

Buffy groans in lieu of response. Faith grins.

“Wanna grab some food?”

“I’m only halfway through the day,” Buffy says. “I can’t ditch.”

Faith raises her eyebrows. “Can’t you?”

Buffy pauses, scanning over her shoulder. Her eyes land on Willow and Xander, some distance away, engrossed in deep conversation. Xander looks to be going through various stages of grief as Willow tells him what the test answers actually were. “Yeah, whatever,” she says, turning back around to Faith.

Faith repeats that first day as best she can. She takes them to the nest, lets the adrenaline drive them to the Bronze, where they dance. There’s something wild and unhinged driving their movements that Faith can’t put her finger on. It’s unsettling.

Faith does something she rarely does – she waits until Angel arrives. She usually tries to get Buffy to leave before Angel can interrupt them. But today she has other plans. She distracts herself dancing with the other boys until Buffy inevitably grabs her hand and pulls her away from the dancefloor.

She repeats everything until they arrive in that alleyway. And then she changes it. She switches her and Buffy around, lets Buffy be on the side where Finch will enter the alleyway. Everything goes according to the plan, right up until Buffy goes to stab Finch.

Buffy stops. Stake inches away from Finch’s chest, Buffy pulls herself back, eyes widening in horror. Buffy stands up, stammering apologies. She grabs Faith’s hand and pulls them both out of there. The two of them keep running until Buffy pulls up, white as a sheet, and throws up on the sidewalk.

“I almost…” she repeats over and over again as Faith watches her curiously. Buffy almost killed Finch. But she didn’t.

Faith draws in a breath and walks over to Buffy, patting her back comfortingly, all the while plotting how to turn almost killed into killed.

Day 46

Faith spends a whole week trying to get Buffy to kill Finch. She switches the order they go into the alley, changes which vampires she attacks, positions Buffy right where she knows Finch will appear. She warns her, doesn’t warn her, pushes Buffy towards him, and pulls Finch towards her, but each time, without fail, Buffy catches herself.

She stands over Finch, stake in hand, and doesn’t go any further – no matter what Faith does. It’s like the universe is screaming at her: Buffy’s better than you. Buffy can’t be sullied by murder, she can’t get her hands dirty. She’s better than that.

Where Faith will trip and fall, Buffy will stand tall. Where Faith will make a blunder, Buffy will clean it up. Where Faith fails, Buffy always succeeds.

On a fundamental level, Buffy’s better. And everyone knows it.

Faith – now – included.

Day 50

Faith weaves through the classrooms trying to find Buffy. By this point in the day Faith’s usually already met up with her, or decided to not. She decides early whether the day is a Buffy day or not. The last few days have firmly been avoiding days. Today – halfway through shoplifting a new jacket and absentmindedly thinking how this would be more fun with company – she changed her mind.

There’s a familiar figure walking down the hallways. His eyes widen in recognition when he spots Faith.

“Oh, hey, Scott.”

Faith punches Scott square on the jaw, then keeps moving as if nothing happened. She smirks at the sound of gasps echoing down the hallway.

She finally finds Buffy in the common room area, trying to steal the chips Xander bought from the vending machine.

“I can offer you better than stale chips, you know?” Faith says in lieu of greeting.

Buffy brightens at Faith’s appearance. There’s something so genuine in her smile that Faith feels bad she’s avoided this the last few days.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

Faith hides a grin as Xander does a complete 360 in his confusion of how to act natural around her. Faith forgets sometimes how little time has passed for him since they had sex. Really, she tries to think of that night as little as possible.

“Rescuing you,” Faith replies.

Buffy looks up at her, eyes wide and innocent. She’s so corruptible, Faith can’t help but think. Except for in any significant way. Buffy will happily toe that line, but when all’s said and done, she will never step over it. Faith, on the other hand… Well, her hands are washed clean, but the label will always prevail: Murderer.

“You’ve already done that test right?” Faith checks. “Surely missing one class can’t hurt too much.”

Buffy – like usual – doesn’t require much convincing. She’s taking Faith’s outstretched hand and lets Faith pull her up from the couch. Xander’s too much tongue-tied to say anything to stop Buffy from leaving.

“So.” Faith stops them outside the school. “Bronze, or nest?”

Buffy’s eyes gleam. “You found a nest?”

It only takes twenty minutes for them to burst through the windows. The vampires start scampering off in each direction like they always do. The predictability bores Faith. She wants a real fight, not a pre-rehearsed staking that might as well be a training exercise at this point.

That’s why she holds her punches, lets vampires go where she’d normally have turned them to dust. She positions them further back in the room, where the sunlight doesn’t reach. It’s tactically stupid – and so much more fun.

Faith can feel the adrenaline flood her body at the new arena. She ducks one vampire’s attack, and stabs another, toying with them both. Faith lets them play for five minutes or so, vaguely aware of Buffy being surrounded by five vampires in the periphery of her vision. Faith, finally bored, stakes the two of them in two sharp moves. She smirks at the twin looks of horror on their faces.

A scream pierces through the air: Faith’s name on Buffy’s tongue. Faith whirls around, grin wiped from her face. Buffy’s in the clutches of two vampires, bleeding heavily from one arm. She’s only saved from being bitten as the two fight over who gets to eat the slayer.

Faith pauses. She has a knife in one hand, two more stakes hidden on her body. It’d be easy to kill them both and save Buffy.

But… Each day starts anew. Buffy dying won’t change a thing. Or maybe it will. Maybe that’s how Faith breaks out of this – by rebalancing the universe, returning it to the one slayer maximum. And it’s got to be Buffy, right? She’s the one who screwed up the lineage. Faith’s the true slayer. Buffy’s the one who just won’t let go.

Fifty fucking days. Maybe it’d all end if Faith lets Buffy die. It’s worth a try, right? No harm if it doesn’t end the time loop, and if it does… well, then at least Faith can get the fuck out of here. Being stuck like this is as good as being dead, and better Buffy than her. Right?

One of the vampires suddenly gets the best of the other. Buffy can’t move, she’s growing weaker by the second as the blood keeps draining out of her. The vampire holding her looks up at Faith warily, knowing that sinking his fangs into Buffy would likely mean his death at her hands.

Faith ignores Buffy’s pleas, and waves her hand around dismissively. “Go for it. Not like I care.”

Buffy looks like she’s been shot. Faith’s the one who feels the pain though. Her heart clenches as the vampire grins in victory, rearing his head ready to plunge.

Faith doesn’t even think. She just throws. The knife embeds in the vampire’s head. Buffy, using the last of her strength, grabs a stake from her boot and plunges it into his chest before he has the chance to look surprised.

Faith rushes forward and kicks the other vampire down, pushing him up against the wall and staking him through the chest.

She puts her arm under Buffy, heaving her up. “You good?” she asks.

Buffy groans in pain. “For a second there…” She looks up at Faith warily.

Faith shakes her head. “I had to play them. I didn’t think I could get there quick enough otherwise. Not before they got those fangs into you.”

Buffy nods slowly, taking Faith’s explanation for what it is. She has no real reason to doubt Faith.

“C’mon,” Faith says, “let’s get you to a hospital.”

Buffy complains a little, but blood’s still seeping from her arm. Faith does her best to wrap her jacket around it and stop the bleeding, but the vampire pierced a vein, and the blood keeps gushing.

It’s as Joyce hugs Faith in the hospital, quietly sharing her gratitude over Buffy’s sleeping body, that Faith realises: the one thing she will never be able to do is let Buffy die. No matter what. She’s pained enough just seeing Buffy passed out in a hospital bed as the doctors give her a blood transfusion. If Buffy died – actually died – Faith wouldn’t survive.

Day 72

“What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop? One day on repeat,” Faith says, aiming for casual. She’s never been a good actor. Buffy’s eyes narrow. Before she can respond, Faith adds quickly, “Ah, one day without consequences. You’d screw your boyfriend, wouldn’t you?”

Buffy flushes, eyes cast downwards, away from Faith. “You’re a little bit too obsessed with my sex life, Faith,” she retorts.

“Why do you think that is?” Faith returns without thinking. She doesn’t have to think about much these days. She can say whatever she want, and rewrite her conversations to suit herself the next day.

She’s spent the entire of today letting her first impulse lead her wherever she wanted. It resulted in Buffy, naturally, and a diner, with plates stacked full of food.

Buffy looks up at her, eyes narrowing in confusion. “I don’t know.”

Faith cocks her head to the side. “Figure it out, okay?”

“Now?”

“There’s no time like the present,” Faith says around a bite of her burger. She rolls the food around her mouth with her tongue. It tastes of nothing. Faith would spit it out, if she’d been raised in a household that could afford that sort of behaviour. Instead, she swallows it down, and pushes her plate in front of Buffy, shrugging in response to her questioning look.

“You think about sex a lot,” Buffy says. Her eyes refuse to meet Faith’s when she says it. Her lips curl around the word ‘sex’ as though she’s not sure she’s allowed to say it.

“So, you’re saying I’m obsessed with sex, and not with you and your pathetic sex life?”

Buffy scowls slightly, then nods.

“Beep,” Faith buzzes. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

“This is boring, Faith.”

“What would you prefer to talk about? How you put question B for one answer but Willow put C, so you’re pretty sure you’ve failed the test? Or, how you’re worried about Willow maybe going off to Oxford next year and finding a new best friend? Or, how your mom thinks you can just pass of being the slayer onto me? I’ve had those conversations with you, B, I’m bored of them now, so let’s talk about something more fun: sex.”

Faith flashes a wide grin that Buffy won’t meet. Her brow creases in confusion. “We’ve never talked about those things.”

“I’m stuck in a time loop, B. We have. You just don’t remember.”

Buffy laughs tentatively. It fades awkwardly as Faith stares her down. “You’re messing with me.”

Faith shakes her head.

“Faith,” Buffy starts.

“Look, B. I don’t want to talk about that. Either you believe me, or you don’t. Who cares – it won’t change anything. So, let’s just talk about us for a second–”

“Us?” Buffy’s face twists in confusion. “I thought you wanted to talk about sex.”

Faith shrugs lightly. “Same thing.”

Buffy laughs dryly. It doesn’t meet her eyes. “It really isn’t.”

“To you,” Faith says. “To you, it isn’t.”

There’s a pause. It seems to stretch on for an eternity. But Faith has time.

“Faith, what are you saying?” Buffy eventually says.

“I don’t know.” There’s a pounding in her chest that says otherwise. Anxiety scraping at the underside of her skin that tells her she’s far too close to a long-hidden truth. But Faith can’t string any of those feelings together into a thought, let alone a sentence.

All she knows is Buffy pushed her away, and she felt lost. That Buffy stood, dimly lit on her porch, and Faith hoped.

“It sounds like…” Buffy pauses, laughing awkwardly. “If I didn’t know better…”

“Pretend you don’t know better,” Faith says with sudden urgency.

“Faith,” Buffy says, voice barely a whisper. She’s shaking her head slightly.

“I kissed you,” Faith says, the secret suddenly unbearable. Faith’s not sure she even realised it was a secret until this moment. But now she says it, she knows; it’s been weighing her down ever since the day it happened, tinting everything in darker shades.

There’s a long pause. Faith can’t meet her eye; can’t bear to see the various excuses and rejections filter across Buffy’s face as she tries to find some perfect response.

“What–” Buffy inhales sharply as Faith turns to her. She swallows. “What did I do?” Buffy eventually asks.

Faith shakes her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“When you kissed me, what did…” Buffy shakes her head, a hollow laugh bursting out from her mouth. “This is so unfair. If you really are in a time loop or some science fiction thing then–”

“So you believe me?” Faith asks. “About the time loop.”

Buffy shrugs jerkily. “Demons, vampires. I’ve seen crazier things and Giles mentioned something about dimensions and time warping and…” Buffy shakes her head. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

Faith can’t help but smile. It escapes her without permission. She quickly smothers it.

“But if you’re really in a time loop, then… then, you know things about me.” Buffy’s voice climbs higher with every word. “You could know anything and I don’t know what you know, so how am I supposed to even–”

“Buffy, chill out,” Faith interrupts Buffy’s spiral. “Jeez. I didn’t realise you were hiding something so dark that you’d be this freaked about someone finding out.”

“I’m not – Faith, it’s not like that. It’s just…” Buffy runs her hands through her hair. “What did I do?” she repeats. “When you…” She lowers her voice. “When you kissed me, what did I do?”

Faith frowns. She’s not sure why this is even a question. “You stopped me.”

“I stopped you?” Buffy asks. There’s an uncertainty to her tone, as though she doesn’t quite believe Faith.

Faith laughs dryly. When she told Buffy she kissed her, this wasn’t the reaction she expected. She’d let the secret bury her for so long, only for Buffy to entirely ignore Faith’s role in it. As per usual, golden girl only cares about herself. “What else would you have done?”

It’s a rhetorical question; not something Faith expects an answer from. She’s sure she could try and kiss Buffy a hundred times, and the response would always be the same.

It’s a rhetorical question, but Buffy tenses up. And Faith can’t not track every little movement she makes; she can’t not watch Buffy. It’s all she knows how to do.

“What else would you have done?” Faith repeats. Buffy doesn’t answer. She’s frozen in place. Faith swallows nervously around her next question. She can’t take it off her tongue. She doesn’t want to. “What would you do now?”

Buffy looks around, scanning the room. She bites her lip, and shakes her head slightly. She refuses to meet Faith’s gaze. “There’s people here. I wouldn’t do anything.”

Faith’s breath hitches. “If… if there weren’t people here…”

“I’m not gay, Faith,” Buffy hisses.

“Neither am I,” Faith says with just as much vehemence. “But you – you just said…” Faith replays Buffy’s words in her head. “Buffy, if…” Faith stands up, grabs Buffy’s wrist and pulls her out of the booth. She drags her through the restaurant, surprised at how pliable Buffy is to her directions. Faith leads them outside, takes a sharp right down an alleyway. “There’s no one here, B.”

Buffy looks around. Left, right, left, right. There’s no one around. Her eyes dip, focussing in on where Faith’s still holding her wrist. Buffy exhales quietly, and tugs her arm. Faith releases her.

“Tell me I’m not crazy, B, tell me I’m not misreading this ‘cause I’m confused enough with everything else and–”

“You’re not crazy.” Buffy breathes out the words, eyes widening as she does so, like she can scarcely believe she’s saying them. Her hand slowly trails up Faith’s jacket, tentatively gripping around the lapel.

“Buffy,” Faith murmurs. Buffy still doesn’t look up at her. Faith reaches out and puts her hands on Buffy’s waist. It’s to steady herself, more than anything else. The ground under her feet can’t be trusted. Faith edges forwards. Buffy moves with her, until they brush up against the wall. “Buffy,” Faith says again. Faith pulls one of her hands away from Buffy’s body, lifting it to Buffy’s chin. She gently tilts it upwards, forcing Buffy to look up at her. “Tell me what to do,” Faith begs. “I don’t want to mess up, please tell me how to not mess up, please. Tell me what to do.”

“Faith,” Buffy whispers. “I can’t.” Faith’s heart drops. She wants to step back, but Buffy’s hand’s in a death grip around her jacket. “I want–” Buffy cuts herself off, and swallows down the thought. “Just take. Just – don’t make me say it. Just–”

Faith kisses her.

Buffy pulls at Faith’s jacket, tugging Faith closer as she kisses back. Buffy kisses like she fights, calmly aggressive and singularly focussed. Buffy kisses like she fights – she’s damn good at it.

Faith’s entire body is shaking. She’s never felt like this before. She’d always seen kissing as a performative precursor to the main event – sex. But this, this is everything. Faith’s entire body is on fire, every inch of her working in unison with the sole goal to stay as closely pressed against Buffy’s body as possible.

Faith thinks, of all the days, this is the day she would choose. This is the one she wants etched into permanence.

But the day fades like every other, and Buffy’s kiss is as forgotten as Allan Finch’s murder.

Day 86

Sometimes Buffy kisses Faith back, more often she pushes Faith away, frowning in a sad sort of confusion that makes Faith want to fight her. It’s patronising, more so now that Faith knows the truth: Buffy likes her.

Buffy kisses her, touches her, wants her. And Buffy still rejects her, holding this confusion over Faith as though she can’t comprehend why Faith even tried kissing her in the first place.

Faith’s not sure why she keeps trying when the rejection hurts so much. Part of it’s anger, she wants to prove Buffy wrong even if Buffy doesn’t remember her first infraction. Faith wants to win, she wants Buffy to admit it – that perfect Buffy Summers wants to kiss her.

Faith’s tried it a dozen times now. After they go slaying, in the alley outside the Bronze. She goes back to the diner and recreates that conversation, but somewhere along the line it slips out of her hands – Buffy slips out of her hands.

But sometimes she slips into them. It’s when Faith least expects it, when she’s half-given up on the idea. When that kiss starts to feel more like a dream than something that actually happened.

Faith’s near crying on the bed in her motel room the second time Buffy kisses her. They’re lying on the pillows, facing each other as Faith blurts out something terribly embarrassing about her childhood – something that she’d never have said if she knew Buffy wouldn’t forget.

Faith tries repeating the story the next day, some sad tale about her mom not loving her enough. It sticks in her throat in a similarly bitter way, though Faith holds back the tears better. That time, Buffy hears something different. Instead of leaning in, mumbling something about Faith being cared for, Buffy just reaches out and holds Faith’s hand.

This time, Faith’s blunter, something about the softness of Buffy’s palm encourages a certain directness. Or, rather, makes it impossible for Faith to remember restraint. She’s learnt which bartenders are most likely to look the other way at her obviously fake ID, and has bought her and Buffy half a dozen shots each. Buffy’s giggling by the time they run out of the backdoor at the Bronze, a giggle which fades when Faith lets slip some comment about how hot Buffy is. There’s something so honest in her tone that Buffy can’t ignore it this time.

Buffy stops, blinking. She steadies herself, inebriation still teasing some small smile at her lips. “Sometimes…” Buffy starts, then shakes her head thinking better of it.

Faith recalls an earlier conversation. “Sometimes?” she prompts.

Buffy laughs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting.”

“Maybe you don’t know better,” Faith replies bluntly, following her own script as best as she can remember.

Buffy’s expression shifts into something painfully impassive. She swallows something down. “You’re not flirting.”

There’s a certain command to her tone, almost like she’s telling Faith off. Faith bitterly swallows down a remark about a version of Buffy who definitely wanted Faith to flirt.

“What if I am?”

“You’re not.”

Faith laughs without any humour. “That’s not really up for you to decide, B.”

Buffy crosses her arms. “Well, stop then. I don’t want you to.”

Faith’s familiar with this feeling. That doesn’t stop the sting.

Faith grits her teeth. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not like that.”

Faith shakes her head. She’s seen Buffy’s cheeks flush red at things Faith’s said. She’s felt Buffy’s hand tight around her waist. She’s heard Buffy’s moan against her lips.

“I know you want this.”

Buffy juts out her chin, eyes blazing. “You’re wrong.”

Faith raises her eyebrows. “Am I? Because I’ve seen the way you look at me when we go slaying. You want me. I know it.”

Buffy shakes her head, scoffing. “You’re delusional.” She turns and starts walking down the alleyway, away from Faith.

Part of Faith wants to reach forwards and grab Buffy. She knows if she kisses her, it would prove she was right. She knows how to make Buffy melt, knows she loves it when Faith’s rougher with her (wonders if it’s because Angel’s always far too concerned about Buffy being more delicate than she really is). Buffy wouldn’t be able to deny her attraction to Faith.

But Faith can’t do that – won’t. It doesn’t count if Buffy doesn’t want it.

So instead, Faith just yells after her, “You’re a coward.”

Buffy pauses, briefly turning her head over her shoulder. “You don’t know anything about me,” she says, then walks off.

Faith watches her go, her flashes of anger quickly subsiding into something far more bitter, and far more sad.

Day 88

Sometimes the day repeats itself in the cruellest of ways:

“Why not?” Faith asks, throat painfully hoarse.

Today, Buffy’s the one who kissed her, and Buffy’s the one who pushed her away. Faith’s trapped in a day where Buffy can’t evolve, can’t accept herself. As trapped as Faith is, Buffy is too.

“I’m not like that – I can’t be like that.”

Faith knows Buffy better than she did at the start of this. She wonders how much of Joyce’s voice is in Buffy’s head right now. Joyce, not as abusive as some of the people Faith grew up around, but certainly not accepting. Not yet, anyway.

“You’re a coward,” Faith says, tongue wet with salty tears.

“I know,” Buffy says. It sounds like an apology.

Day 102

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Faith asks. They’re in a bed. Buffy’s still barely looking at her, but she’s too polite to run away. Or, too in shock.

It’s a shock Faith shares. It’s why the question slipped out from her. She has no idea how they two of them landed here, in Faith’s motel room, naked under the sheets. There was a small amount of liquor involved, but certainly not enough for either of them to blame having sex on it.

This Buffy doesn’t know about the time loop, but it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s Faith’s first time too. In all the loops, she hadn’t ever really considered having sex with Buffy. Kissing, sure, but sex? It always felt like something so distant, until Faith fell into it.

“No,” Buffy says.

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t – if you were a bad person I wouldn’t feel…” Buffy trails off. Her eyes dart over to Faith’s, briefly catching them, and letting them go.

Faith tries to hold onto it – Buffy’s faith in her – but she can’t. It’s not hers to keep.

Day 103

Faith sleeps with Xander again. She’s not sure why she chooses Xander, only knows that she finds him outside the school and can see he still wants it – wants her. He’s had a taste (regrettably), now he inevitably wants another.

She fucks him because it’s easy. She fucks him because he’s Buffy’s best friend, and Faith can’t think of any other person she could be with who could make Buffy feel a fraction of the pain Faith feels when Buffy goes off with Angel.

Faith wants Xander to fuck Buffy out of her, to remove all traces of everything that happened between them, but the universe has already done that for her. All it does is leave her with a pit in her stomach, unfounded guilt, and Xander, of all people, in her bedroom.

Day 115

“I think I love you,” Faith says. “And I think I’m a bad person.”

Faith times it carefully, with one minute until midnight. She leans on her pillow, counting down the seconds, watching Buffy try to process it all.

Then she wakes, confessions unwritten. The blank slate doesn’t feel as relieving as it should.

Day 119

Faith finds a new habit of confessing things to Buffy. It’s a small bravery permitted by the promise of a clean slate.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” Faith draws in a long breath. “But I also think I’d die without you.”

“Faith…”

In the wake of finding out about Faith’s torturous time loop situation, this version of Buffy is gentle, sympathetic. She doesn’t know that they’ve slept together, just that Faith’s kissed her. Other than the version of Buffy who Faith actually had sex with, no other Buffy knows they’ve had sex. Faith’s never found the courage to broach that topic of conversation with any version of Buffy.

“Or, not die. But lose myself. My soul or – whatever. I’m not – I don’t believe in that Catholic shit. Not anymore. But it happens, right? People just… snap. I don’t want to… I don’t want to be changed like that. And you… You’re like my compass. Or that star in the night. The brightest one.”

Faith’s not sure when it happened – when she started to need Buffy. She thinks, in a way, it was the second she became a slayer. That’s when Buffy became her compass.

When Diana died, Faith had ran to Buffy without thinking, as though some invisible string was drawn between the two of them, and Faith – lost and alone – knew nothing more than that string, and the safety and warmth that following it would ensure.

Then Faith had met her. And sure, Buffy had been a pain. Buffy still is a pain. But she’s also that star in the night sky, shining brighter every day that Faith’s known her. Every day, Faith needs her more and more.

Faith hates it. She hates needing someone. Depending on someone. It’s dangerous. Her childhood taught her that much. But she needs Buffy, and she can’t deny it.

Day 148

“You’re going to hate me,” Faith says. They’ve slept together for the fourth time now, the air’s still thick with it. Faith keeps digging herself a deeper hole, but she just can’t find it in herself to stop. Not when being with Buffy is the only reprieve to her endless torture. “When all of this is… If. If this ever ends, you’re going to hate me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know too much, and you don’t know anything.”

Faith would hate Buffy for that if the situations were resolved. It’s far too easy to put herself in Buffy’s shoes and feel the anxiety tightening her chest. She can’t imagine anything worse than Buffy knowing all her secrets, and Faith not knowing anything.

“So tell me.”

“It’s not the same. It’s different versions of you every time and I still don’t know what words send you left and what sends you right. I’ll screw up. You know I’ll screw up.”

“I’m the same person each time, Faith. You’re the one who’s changing.” Buffy sighs. “You won’t screw up. There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you–”

“I killed someone,” Faith says. “It’s how this started.”

Buffy stiffens. Faith doesn’t say anything more, just watches as the clock ticks over towards midnight, trying to not notice Buffy quietly shifting away from her.

Day 165

A hundred and sixty-five days, and Faith finally does the last thing she ever thought she’d do.

Day 170

Five days have solidified Faith’s hatred of education. Studying sucks.

She doesn’t hate reading, but being evaluated on it? Fuck that. The rest of it sucks too. Math? Science? What’s the point? Faith’s never going to be the type to sit down and fill out a problem sheet, or do reading comprehension. It bores her. Schoolwork always has.

In one loop, she pretended she wanted to be a better slayer, and learn about demons. She figured it’d at least be more interesting than Sunnydale’s curriculum. Giles had enthusiastically accommodated her, plucking a dozen books from the shelves and stacking them in front of her. Faith didn’t hate that so much. It was practical – she might face these demons. It was easy to sit, parsing through the books and imagining how she would best fight these demons.

She got Giles to stand in as a dummy-of-sorts, and practiced throwing punches. She’d have felt guiltier about the bruises he developed if she didn’t know they’d all be gone the next day.

It’s halfway through throwing punches that Giles says something that Faith can’t stop considering. Faith’s always hated theoretical stuff. It’s all just bullshit that people pretend is useful. But doing shit? Yeah, she can get behind that.

Hence, Faith walking over to the garages and flirting with one of the mechanics until he agrees to teach her some things. Two hours later, grease on her forehead and sweat dripping down her back, Faith thinks, yeah, this might work. Two weeks later and she’s the best beginner they’ve ever had. By the end of this, Faith will be walking into a job with her skillset – or at least, that’s the plan. Anything to get her out of the shitty motel she’s been forced to call home for almost a year now.

She’s sick of waking up to paint peeling off walls, and dripping of a broken tap, and the damn smell which seems to have seeped into every corner of the room. It’s unchanging each day, and yet, Faith would swear the smell’s getting stronger – and more unbearable. The very air is turning to poison.

Faith wants out. Which means she has to get a job. Mechanic seems like the best option so far – at least for a few years, until Faith inevitably gets bored. It’s pretty versatile too – it doesn’t stick her down in Sunnydale, unable to move. She can travel the country, picking up work when she needs it.

After being stuck here for a year, Faith’s pretty eager to make her exit. It’ll be nice driving away and not being spun back round to the motel in the morning like a yo-yo. Faith longs for the day. If it ever comes…

Day 222

“I killed someone.”

Faith doesn’t watch Buffy stiffen; she knows the reaction too well. She tests out this conversation a dozen times, and inevitably runs away from every one.

But not today.

“It was an accident,” Faith says before Buffy can reply. “I promise.”

Buffy sits up, turning to Faith with an off-putting intensity. Faith shakes under Buffy’s gaze, tucking her arms around her legs to try and keep herself together. This is the part of the conversation she doesn't know: the ‘after’.

Confessing is easy. Waiting for Buffy’s reaction is far harder. Faith can see practically her mind still whirring, trying to reassess Faith in this new light.

“I know,” Buffy says, with more conviction than Faith expected.

Faith blinks back confusion. “You know?”

“You’re not a bad person, Faith. You wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

Faith looks away. She’s killed Finch four times. There’s no excuse for the other times – except, perhaps the knowledge that new (well, new-ish) sunrise would wash it away.

“I think I am though.” Faith’s voice is barely a whisper. She thinks it wouldn’t be heard through the thin walls of confessional. But she’s not in a church. She’s in Buffy’s bedroom. “Bad,” she adds.

Buffy wraps her hands around Faith’s forearms. “Well, I don’t.”

“You don’t know me though. Not really,” Faith says.

Buffy hums contemplatively. “I… I don’t think being good or bad is permanent. I think people can change, for better or for worse.” Her eyes are so sharp, yet so kind, and Faith’s not sure how to handle that contradiction. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t know you. Maybe you don’t let me know you,” Buffy adds, an afterthought that Faith grimaces away. “But you know you. So, if you really think you’re bad, then change.”

“Just like that?”

Buffy sighs. “I don’t know. No,” she then adds. “No, not ‘just like that’. It’s not easy, but if you make that choice – if you keep making that choice. I might not know you inside out, but I know you well enough to know that you are capable of being good if you want to be.”

Faith rests her head against the tops of her knees, mulling over Buffy’s words.

Maybe Buffy’s right. Maybe she doesn’t have to be good – maybe she can just try and be good. Eventually, it’ll have to stick, right?

Day 270

It takes Faith eight loops to figure out how to rob a bank. Far too many of those loops were spent in libraries. The first one got off to a bad start when Giles saw her try and use the computer to search ‘how to rob a bank’. After that, Faith started going to the public library in Sunnydale – which still sucked, but at least Giles wasn’t there to give speeches on how robbing banks was “immoral” and “unbefitting of a slayer”.

In the end, Faith didn’t rob a bank. Just learnt who the richest guy in Sunnydale was and figured out how to steal his credit card information. She’d have saved a lot more time if she’d researched credit card fraud and banking scams first.

Sunnydale’s small airport didn’t fly direct to Boston, instead stopping over in LAX, which absorbed even more of Faith’s day, leaving the sky a dusky red by the time she landed in Boston. Three more days of flying between Sunnydale and Boston – in which Faith remained terrified of flying despite the knowledge that this plane definitely wouldn’t crash – finally led her to her father.

The first time she saw him, Faith kicked him in the balls and slugged him in the eye. Then she found a bar, downed a beer, and went on a hunt. Boston’s vampire scene is substantially less active than Sunnydale’s, but at this point in the time loop, Faith’s grateful for any variety of slayage. Even getting her ass kicked by one of the quickest moving demons Faith's ever dealt with brings a smile to her face. The smile wains after a day of research in the library (though she's grateful for the distraction from her spiralling thoughts about her father), and wains some more when the research doesn't yield her any easy ways to kill the demon, but it returns in full force with a slightly manic edge when she kills the demon after a few nights. It's the most exhilaration Faith's felt in months, and the adrenaline is enough to drive her back into that bar and sit across from her father again.

The second time she sees Pat Lehane, Faith slid over a beer. Two minutes into the conversation, adrenaline still at a high, she picked up the beer and threw it at his head. Which, now she thinks about it, probably doesn’t fit into Buffy’s whole ‘choose to be good’ philosophy, but hey, Pat definitely fucking deserves it.

The third time Faith meets him – two weeks since she started getting on planes between Boston and Sunnydale – she tells him who she is. He doesn’t believe her at first. It’s hard to connect a toddler to a seventeen-year-old, but then Faith swears a little and his eyes widen in recognition of a Lehane’s foul mouth.

Faith doesn’t let him say much, doesn’t want to hear his fake apologies which quickly lead into unsubtle attempts at ascertaining Faith’s economic situation and whether he can benefit from it. Faith just rants at him until the clock strikes midnight, and wakes up in a motel room in Sunnydale feeling lighter than she has in years.

Day 326

“What would you want me to do when this ends?”

Faith’s never asked before. Not really. She’s skirted around the topic then quickly deflected. But she’s never directly asked Buffy. She doesn’t know why. Maybe she just never cared about the answer. It doesn’t really matter what Buffy wants, Faith knows what she’ll do.

Except… that’s not true. Because for Faith, perhaps the only thing that matters to her is what Buffy wants. It defines her entire existence.

“Would you want me to pretend it never happened? Let you live on, with Angel, and just pretend I don’t know any of this?”

“No–”

“Yeah, you would. Deep down. Best case scenario for you, I forget all of this, right? Forget that you like me, forget how right kissing you feels. But I can’t forget, so all I can do is pretend to forget. That’s what you’d want, right?”

“No.”

Buffy sounds angry that Faith would even suggest that, even though Faith’s sure it’s the truth.

“Then what? Because you don’t want this. I know you don’t want this. Because you want him more,” Faith says bitterly. “And I’m not going to hang myself up to dry just ‘cause that’s fair. You can’t just have me on the wings until something goes wrong between you two. I ain’t doing that. I ain’t like that.”

Buffy sits up. “It’s not fair if you don’t tell me!”

“None of this is fair!” Faith spits. “I’m stuck here. It’s been months, Buffy. I’m stuck, and it’s killing me. None of this is fucking fair. If I get out of this, I don’t want to stay stuck. I’m not just gonna be hanging around in limbo waiting for you to work out your shit – because we both know, odds are, you won’t choose me.”

“Then why are you asking me what I want?”

“Because I care about what you want!”

“But you won’t do what I want–”

“You want me to go up to you, and confess everything. Tell you I love you. Tell you that we’ve kissed, and had sex, and spent days talking about our shitty lives, and shitty pasts. If you actually have to live with it, instead of writing it off at the end of the day, that would scare the shit out of you.”

Faith thinks about all the times Buffy rejected her. There was always some element of confusion in each rejection, as though Buffy couldn’t quite comprehend why Faith was doing it. It incensed Faith, because Buffy felt the same – Faith knew it.

Then Faith had realised: Buffy wasn’t confused about Faith liking her, she was confused about Faith putting it out in the open, because Buffy would never do that. She was too afraid of what it’d all mean.

“What you want and what you think you want are two different things.” Faith can see that Buffy doesn’t understand her. She’s not going to spell it out for Buffy. There’s no point – she’ll forget it all at midnight. “If I find you tomorrow and tell you all of this, you’d never look at me again.” Buffy opens her mouth to make a retort, but Faith’s won’t let her. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t. I know – it’s happened before. You’ve ran off in the opposite direction a hundred times.”

Buffy looks at Faith. There’s a sharpness in her eyes. If Faith wasn’t so angry herself, she’d step back at the sight of it, knowing the danger it spells. Buffy’s not like Faith, not really. She doesn’t explode, she’s measured. Calm. Unless someone hurts her. For whatever reason, Faith seems to be able to draw Buffy’s anger more than anyone else.

Maybe because it’s more than just anger Faith draws. It’s guilt. And that, more than anything else, Buffy has no idea how to handle.

“Move on, Faith,” Buffy says with sudden resolve. “That’s what you should do if you ever get out of this. Move on.”

“And just let you pretend that you don’t feel anything for me?”

Buffy juts her chin out. “Yes.”

It’s the closest Faith’s come to getting a confession out of Buffy. It’s more painful than she could have ever imagined.

Day 358

Faith’s not sure why she asks again. Maybe she’s just a masochist. Why else would she have spent more than half her loops with Buffy?

Maybe it’s because Faith’s learnt she’s better at life the second time around. The first go of it, she tends to piss people off. She reckons it’s ‘cause she comes in all hot, her tongue flicking flames and burning everyone in reach. Second time around, she’s thought about it more. Her questions are more clinical, tamed by time.

“I don’t know,” Buffy replies, her brows creased together in confusion. Faith’s about to make some comment about frown lines, before she remembers nothing here is permanent anyway. Not killing Finch. Not kissing Buffy. Not even frown lines.

“You don’t know?”

“Sorry.” Buffy sounds genuine.

“That’s alright.” The words slip from Faith’s mouth before she can stop them.

It’s easier this time around. Faith’s gentler, and so Buffy is too. Buffy tends to match Faith for tone. Or, Faith riles her up. Buffy when hit tends to hit back. But she’d never start it – that’s Faith’s job. She’s the negative influence.

“I think,” Buffy starts softly. Her fingers knead into Faith’s sheets. Faith can’t help but think about Buffy pulling at her sheets in a very different circumstance. Right now though, Buffy’s chastely sitting atop Faith’s made bed, with zero awareness that she’s ever been under the sheets. “I think I’d want to know.”

Faith tries to match her tone. “I don’t think you would.”

Buffy tilts her head to the side. “No?”

“In the past, you haven’t always reacted well. You must feel it now,” Faith says. “Uncomfortable, confused. You’re the same every day, and every day you hate yourself a little bit for liking me this way.”

Buffy looks away from Faith. “See, I hate this. You know more about me than I do. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” Faith says. What else can she say? This all sucks. None of it is fair – for either of them. “I just… I don’t know if I can give you that.”

Buffy has a way of stripping Faith bare, even when Faith doesn’t tell her she’s in love with her. It’s as though Buffy’s gaze pierces through her skin, reading every line of her body until she has Faith’s entire story.

“The truth?”

“Yeah.” Faith’s already given her everything else. How could she give her that? “I don’t have to tell you I’m in love with you,” Faith says, slightly more defensively than she should. She draws in a breath and tries to calm herself. The entire point of a redo is to not get emotional and ruin it again.

“No, but everything else? You should tell me that. It’s what’s fair.”

“How am I supposed to tell you everything else without telling you that, B? It’s all intertwined. This time loop has been entirely defined by me falling in love with you. I can’t separate them.”

Buffy frowns, shifting her weight under her. “But you can’t just not tell me what I’ve done. All the things I must have told you. My secrets that you know. I mean,” Buffy lowers her voice, “we’ve kissed, Faith. I’d want to know that.”

This Buffy doesn’t know they’ve done more than just kissed. Sometimes telling her that just distracts her from whatever conversation Faith wants to have. She gets all squirrelly, and inevitably leaves within five minutes, her cheeks flaming red by the time she’s out the door.

“And what would you even do with that information? Who knows if you’d even believe me.” Except Faith does, because the one thing Buffy never fails to do is believe her. “I have no idea how you’d react.”

“I’d be fine. I’m fine right now, aren’t I?”

“Because you know you don’t have to deal with this tomorrow,” Faith counters. And, because you don’t know that we’ve slept together. That’s definitely a factor. It’s the sex component of their dynamic that seems to wig Buffy out the most.

“No, it’s not that. It’s… Faith, I’ve thought about kissing you before today,” Buffy says. She grits her teeth immediately after. “And that’s another secret you can hold over me.”

Faith doesn’t tell Buffy she already knew that one. But, hell, Faith could’ve guessed that before this time loop. She’d thought about kissing Buffy, and with Faith’s lips, ‘course Buffy would’ve thought the same. Faith just never attached any meaning behind it pre-loop. A kiss is just a kiss. It doesn’t mean feelings, or romance, or anything.

It was only when Faith tried to kiss Buffy that first time, that Faith realised it meant more. Way more. Faith hadn’t been able to say anything after Buffy pushed her away. The rejection had hurt too much – hurt in a way it shouldn’t. Faith had never been ashamed of rejection before. It had never crippled her. Because it had never hurt. Not like that.

You can only be hurt by something you care about.

Well, Faith thinks, that’s not entirely true. You can be hurt by guns, and knives, and the like. But emotionally hurt – yeah, that’s all about caring too much.

“Point is,” Buffy continues, “I won’t freak. Or, I won’t freak much. I’ll get over it,” she concludes.

“Yeah. ‘Cause for you, it’s just something to get over,” Faith replies bitterly. “It’s just a kiss. A mistake. It doesn’t mean anything, not really.”

Buffy sighs quietly. It’s a sad little thing. “Of course it means something, Faith. I don’t just go around kissing people I don’t like.”

Faith stills. It’s stupid, really, that the confession hits her like this. It’s nothing she didn’t know. But it’s not something she’s heard before, not from Buffy’s lips.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Buffy likes Faith, sure. But she loves him.

Faith tells Buffy as much, and just like always, her defences come up at the mention of Angel’s name. Faith always tries her best to avoid Angel in the time loops. Buffy gets swept up in it all, kissing Faith, fucking her – but never if Faith reminds her of Angel.

The moment she remembers Angel, Faith’s second best. Faith doesn’t like being reminded of that. Buffy, apparently, doesn’t enjoy it either.

“You don’t understand how confusing this all is,” Buffy says, more bitter than sad now. “I mean, I love him, Faith. You know that. But, you and me, sometimes it’s just…” Sometimes it just clicks. There’s only two of them in the entire world. They’re made for each other, puzzle pieces clicking into place. “But I do love him.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Faith knows nothing more than Buffy’s love for Angel. It haunts her. Without Angel, Faith would have a free run at this, and she thinks – despite all of Buffy’s obvious hang ups – they’d work. Sure, they’d fight, and hurt each other, and Faith would do stupid shit and Buffy would hate her a little. But they’d work. Faith’s sure of it. There’s too much between them for it to not mean something.

“That’s why I won’t tell you,” Faith says, decision made. She leaves Buffy no room for debate.

Faith wonders if she could ever really get this conversation right. Maybe there is no right. Sometimes, things just suck, right? Sometimes there is no right answer. So, maybe Faith’s just got to choose the option that she can survive. And she’s sure as hell not going to survive telling Buffy she’s in love with her, and watching her be with Angel anyway.

“You love him. You’ll choose him. And you can’t make me give you everything when I know you won’t give me anything back. You give it all to him. You always will.”

Buffy shakes her head. “It’s not fair,” she says, anger unhidden. “You can’t do that.”

Faith smiles wryly. “You can’t exactly stop me though, can you?”

Buffy’s jaw clenches. For a second, Faith thinks she might fight her. She can tell Buffy wants too – at least a little bit. Maybe not a fight, maybe just a slap. Something.

But Buffy’s better than that. Better than Faith. She stands up and leaves, she doesn’t turn back.

Day 365

One fucking year. Faith would shoot herself, if she was that way inclined. Instead, she rolls out of bed and spends her spare change on a donut. She lifts a pack of candles and a lighter from the nearby convenience store, and lights it in her room. It’s pathetic, really.

Faith quickly establishes a better way to celebrate: Buffy.

She’s got the whole day planned out, like a seven year old who meticulously organises their birthday down to the minute.

Hence, Faith’s perfectly timed entrance into the courtyard in Sunnydale High.

“How was the test?”

“Ugh,” Buffy replies. It’s explanation enough.

Faith already knows anyway, Buffy hates this test. She does alright in it though – when Faith doesn’t interrupt her. Faith snuck in one night before the loop reset and checked the tests out of curiosity – and, more so, boredom. She didn’t have a mark scheme or anything, so she just compared Buffy’s test to Willow’s, and their answers aligned enough that Faith figures Buffy did OK.

“Well, I have something that might make your day better,” Faith says. Buffy leans forward, hooked. “Nest.”

Buffy’s grin stretches wide over her face, and stays that way until they’re in the Bronze. Their dancing is as provocative as the first time around, though Faith’s far less hesitant to put her hands on Buffy’s waist, and shove some of the guys away. She keeps dancing for as long as she can, knowing Buffy’s too caught up in it all to stop.

Faith leads them out off the dancefloor before Angel arrives, snagging two drinks on the way from the bartender who prefers tits to IDs. She hands one over to Buffy who, predictably, hesitates for a minute, then starts drinking.

They’re in a corner upstairs, somewhere without line of sight to the dancefloor. It means Angel won’t see Buffy, and Buffy won’t see Angel. It means Faith gets to keep Buffy to herself for longer. Angel, as meticulous as he thinks he is in his search for Buffy, never thinks to go upstairs.

They stay there until it’s dark out. Buffy, slightly tipsy, vents about her mom for a little bit. Faith’s oddly content to listen. She’s heard all of this a dozen times, but there’s something about Buffy trusting her enough to talk about her mom with her that always warms her heart a little. Especially ‘cause she knows Buffy’s never told Willow or Xander any of this stuff.

When night falls, Buffy dutifully insists they go out on patrol. Faith obliges, leading them to the spots where various vampires are tonight, before leading them down that fateful alleyway.

This is the worst part, but it’s worth it. There’s a certain pleasure in seeing Allan Finch, and controlling herself. She can look at him, and feel the guilt, and watch him leave – alive. That’s what matters. Finch leaves the alleyway alive.

But it’s not really about Finch. Or at least, he’s not why Faith led Buffy here today of all days. It’s because Buffy always gets so excited when Finch hands over information on the mayor. She’s almost giggly as she comprehends them finally getting some upper hand in the fight.

She insists they go over to Giles’ house so they can give him the files. At this point in the day, with the clock ticking down, Faith’s fine to just follow Buffy around, letting her infectiously happy energy spread over onto her.

Giles – after his initial embarrassment at being caught by Faith in his pyjamas – quickly gets to work rifling through the files. Faith sits to the side as him and Buffy work, already well aware of the contents of them. Faith lets herself doze a little as she zones out, her eyes finding Buffy without thinking. She’s only really aware she was asleep when Giles’ loud yawn startles her awake.

He glances at his watch, and his eyes widen. His chair scratches painfully against the floor as he stands up. “Oh my, it’s gotten late. Buffy, your mother will be worried sick.”

Faith’s frozen as Giles starts ushering the two of them out the house. She can’t remember the last time she woke somewhere other than her motel room.

She only jolts back to when Buffy grips her hand and starts pulling.

“It’s barely 2 am,” Buffy complains when they leave the house. “Mom will just think slaying overrun. It’s just ‘cause Giles is tired and didn’t want to admit it.”

Buffy tugs at her hand again, but Faith’s feet won’t move. Her legs have extended roots into the ground. No amount of pressure will upend her.

Faith opens her mouth to ask the question, only to find her voice failing her. She tries again, and finds some scratchy, hoarse victory. “What time did you say it was?”

“Not even two am.”

Buffy pulls her hand, muttering something about Faith acting weird, before saying that her house is closer than the motel, and Faith might as well stay over. This time, Faith moves.

The roots retreat back into her legs, the clocks keep ticking over, the glue is washed off.

Faith is unstuck.

Notes:

sequel is floating around on my account somewhere ('it's all in good faith')

the most unrealistic part of this fic is Faith keeping track of how many days have passed

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