Chapter Twenty.
Buffy let her feet trudge wearily to the office; not quite dragging, but as close to dragging that she could get whilst still showing some level of enthusiasm for the task. Giles was just being so darn… enthusiastic! It was exhausting. Trying to keep her head nodding along as he imparted so many facts which to him seemed important, but which to Buffy, seemed only trivial.
Really. Who cared if the famous coven in Cornwall had invited them to stay in some outdated monastery for Halloween? Or if that old friend Roger Boswell… or Bosworth… whoever, had relayed the truly exciting news that three more surviving watchers had been found hiding out in deepest darkest Africa?
Buffy was all on board with the bringing order back into the mix and providing support for the slayers; but at what cost? Giles had even made her take notes yesterday. Notes! She was the clerical slayer, the secretarial slayer - she could staple a vampire from a hundred yards…
She peeked her head around the door to the office, and found that Giles was indeed on the telephone to one of his many important contacts on the other side of the pond. His officious tone making her stifle a giggle as she looked to park her ass on one of the chairs. Slipping her feet up onto the desk just to gain a cursory look - a sort of payback for the making of note taking.
“Yes, Angus, I very much look forward to Saturday too. Yes… really. That’s rather fascinating… yes…”
And there was no payback bad enough to compensate for the loss of brain cells she was having to cope with in the quest to re-establish what was lost. Heaving out a sigh of relief as Giles finally cut the call with the man named Angus.
“How’s Angus?”
“He’s actually rather tedious Buffy, but we have to make best use of all of the resources that are left to us.”
“And Angus doesn’t mind you ‘using’ him?”
“Oh do grow up. Not everybody here is looking to embrace their inner rainbows. Angus has simply volunteered to provide a pick up at the airport on Saturday, that is the only capacity in which I’ll be using him.”
Buffy felt her face colour appropriately at the rainbow comment. Having a sexuality on display that she hadn’t actually even considered completely herself, definitely fell into the realms of mortal embarrassment. Grabbing instead at the other emotion. The one where she remembered that Saturday was only five days away and she still hadn’t found the first foothold. Or footstep. Or anything else other than standing still. Immediately losing the colour from her face. Immediately back to business.
“So what’s up, Giles? Did ya want me to do some more filing? Maybe reorganise your paperclip collection?”
“Very funny. No, I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Ooh discussions. My favourite. So…?”
“You really are quite irritating at times. If you’d rather not know what Angel called me about this morning, then fine; go on - run along…”
“You what?” The mind spinning instantly. The possibilities all jostling to find first place. “Angel called? Is Faith - is she okay?”
“So now you’re interested?”
Now she was hanging onto the edges of the chair. Not interested; absolutely obsessed with the next words that would fall from his mouth. “Giles…”
A warning: A little lacy taste of undertone just to let him know that this was not something they were allowed to joke about. “…is she okay?”
“Yes, she appears to be fine. According to Angel, she’s exceeding every hope they had for her. Hence the phone call.”
“Hence the phone call? You mean… does she, is she ready to see me?”
And god. That more like made the room spin. Made every one of the possibilities re-jostle for more of the first places as she considered all of what that could mean.
“No.”
No?
“She doesn’t?”
“I don’t know, Buffy. Angel didn’t call to discuss Faith’s social arrangements, it seems that he is of the opinion that she is ready to slay again.”
Take the room spin - turn it upside down - shake vigorously - and then slam it to the ground. Hard.
That was the reaction that the real reason behind the phone call was looking to produce. Her eyes set on bulging, her hands already busy throwing shapes through the air.
“Is he crazy?!”
“Buffy…”
“No! What if something happens to her? What if she’s not ready? God - she was in a coma for four years, Giles! Is he trying to kill her?”
“Will you please calm down?”
Not likely. Buffy could feel the anger pulsating somewhere deep within, could feel the fury as it looked to make prickles across every inch of skin. “It’s too much of a risk. He’s got no right-”
“I voiced these very concerns, Buffy. In fact, I voiced a lot more concerns than I expect even you could come up with. Angel is adamant though, that he knows what he is talking about - he offered a rather colourful argument about the path to redemption. I don’t know, perhaps with the results he’s been having with Faith, we ought to trust more in his judgement?”
Yes. Even though Faith could be vampire fodder sometime soon, she should trust that Angel knew what he was talking about. Not that it wouldn’t matter at all about redemption if Faith ended up dead. She should smile. She should nod…
“There should be a slayer there. Angel can’t handle Faith if things go wrong… I want to be there.”
Not able to do either. Her face tight - her stomach tight.
“That’s a bad idea. Putting Faith into a slaying situation, and then facing her with the one thing that seems to spark her rage, isn’t quite what I think Angel has in mind.”
“So why are you telling me? If I’m still not allowed to be included, why are you telling me?”
She didn’t mean to be losing it - didn’t mean to be shrieking her words at Giles in the manner of a newborn hell-spawn - but she really couldn’t help it. Wanting to rip the glasses from his hand and smash them down upon the desk. Wanting answers.
“Did you just want to torment me some more? Is that it? You think I’m not hurting enough right now, I need a little extra agony just to finish me off? I’m sick of this, Giles. I want to see Faith. I need to see her.”
Finding imploring to cover the rage - uncovering her pain to smother the anger. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he see what this was doing to her?
“I’m sorry, Buffy.”
And maybe he did.
Leaving his glasses resting on top of the desk as he lifted himself up to find her. Kneeling at the side of the chair - her hand suddenly engulfed by his. “I hate to see you hurting, I’m sorry that this situation is so painful for you. I only wanted to speak of it, so that you would know, so you didn’t have to hear about it second hand.”
“That’s the problem though, isn’t it Giles? All I get is second hand, all I’m allowed is hearsay and health reports: yes Buffy, Faith looks great! Sure Buffy, she’s eating real well… we’re leaving here in five more days; what the hell am I supposed to do?”
She knew that he had no answer. Accepting the comfort of his sigh - the same old message in his words:
“Just give her time. I know that it’s hard Buffy, but there really is no other way. Just give her time.”
“Right.”
Shrugging away his hand. Settling the shoulders again, acting responsibly again. “So when is she slaying?”
“Buffy…”
“What? I just want to know where and when so that I don’t accidentally run into her. That’d sure mess up everyone’s plans, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s highly unlikely to happen. You know I can’t tell you. It really is for the best.”
Right again.
Wrong again.
“Is that everything?”
“That’s everything. Are you going to be okay?”
“Peachy, Giles. I’m gonna be just peachy.”
As soon as she had found Xander.
The same question about Faith’s ability to slay, was currently being argued in a different office, somewhere in the same town. The current CEO of Wolfram and Hart having a hard time convincing a former watcher from the Watcher’s Council that releasing a vaguely unstable slayer back into the general population was anything like a sane thing to do.
“Did you say, vaguely unstable? I’d suggest that’s a rather flattering assessment, wouldn’t you?”
“No Wes, but then I’ve actually been putting in the hours working with Faith. What’s your area of expertise again? Translating manuscripts - not very helpful here.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me. I was Faith’s watcher; I’m extremely qualified to offer judgement on all areas of her slaying-”
“Would you two pansies stop with the handbags already? She did alright in the test didn’t she? Way I heard it, she barely broke a sweat.”
It was one of the only times that Angel would be thankful of a Spike interruption. Closing his own mouth before he really let rip, before he took the time to re-examine exactly how well Wesley had done as Faith’s watcher…
And Spike made a very valid point. Two nights after he had first sparred with Faith, Angel had allowed her to slay within a controlled environment. The gym closed off to everyone else, two vampires brought into the room. And Faith; finally armed and dangerous. It had been risky, he knew that, but it had also been necessary. Once that spark had come alight again, there was no way that he could look to douse it - every fibre of Faith’s being screaming that she slay - that she reconnect with what she had lost. What she had given up.
And she had barely broken a sweat. Her eyes surprised at first, not sure why he had armed her, not sure why there were two guys staring at her from the centre of the room…
“What’s this, Angel? You planning on me working off a little steam - can I do the one on the right first?”
Her words stunning him silent. The cocksure bravado she let enter her step. “You gonna watch?”
Fluttering the eyelashes.
And then the guys had gone to game face. Tempted by the sweet seduction that was everything Faith; wanting so bad to get themselves a taste. Their growls echoing loud, their steps advancing solid.
“Oh.”
Her realisation.
Angel had watched her understand, waited with a wasted breath to see what she would do. Pinning her eyes on the stake - looking up to catch sight of the vampires. Not even breaking a sweat. As if every move was so familiar, so easy, that to do it took no thought. Dust covering the ground before he’d had time to tell her to be careful… her sly smile turning before he’d found applause.
“Now I’ve really got some steam to work off.”
The stake tossed back. The punching bag attacked.
She had done well in the test.
“At the end of the day Wes, we won’t know what slaying is going to do to Faith, until we let her slay. She’s not gonna earn redemption by telling us she’s better - by saying that she’s sorry. Faith needs to get out there, she needs to start walking the path.”
“Utter codswallop! Releasing an unstable slayer back into the general population is tantamount to condoning the possibility of a massacre. It’s reckless Angel. You don’t even know for sure that Faith wants redemption!”
He caught the movement, the shadow that hovered by the door; the ears that caught the words. The girl that emerged to stride with confidence into the room.
“She does.”
And she couldn’t fool him. Maybe Wesley - but not him. He knew the nervousness that existed inside when she thought about going out again. Slaying for real. Taking that first big step up to the plate, learning how to hit again when the last time she’d only struck out. Faith could stand there now and look as though she owned the room; but Angel knew. He heard the pleading behind the words. He understood everything that it meant to her.
“Look Wes, I know that you’re worried, I’ve given you every reason to think I’m gonna screw this up - but I’m not, okay? I’m gonna get it right this time. I want to get it right.”
The nervous way that she bit into her bottom lip as she waited on a response; for Wesley to look at her in some way other than with the same distrustful glare. Nothing coming.
Angel beginning to think that he would have to break the silence himself, that no one else had anything to say…
“Bloody hell!”
He should have known.
“Why don’t we just let the slayer do her job? If it looks like she’s gonna flip her lid, you can have Angel tie her to a tree and give the geriatric vamps a feast. Can we talk about something else now - like when you buggering idiots are gonna work out how to make me whole?”
Another timely intervention. Spike commanding Wesley’s attention with all of his deep down despair at remaining incorporeal. Apparently it was hard being a ghost. Or not.
Angel just kept his eyes on Faith. Watching every reaction - every muscle move across her face, every nervous twitch that looked to go unnoticed. He watched it all. Keeping her calm. Holding onto her cover. Her final words:
“I’m going up for a shower… don’t talk about me too much while I’m gone.”
Spike’s laughter. Wesley’s stern tut.
And no matter what, Angel did believe that letting her slay again was the only thing to do. The first step - the next step. He would take her out late; a weekday so that it wasn’t so busy. A barely functional cemetery out by a barely functioning old folk’s home. An almost safe environment.
He believed that it was right. He still knew that it was a risk.
Buffy’s legs swung steadily back and forth against the counter in the lobby. Making an ever annoying thump. Encouraging her sister to finally lose patience with her.
“Buffy! We’re trying to play here! Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else?”
Nope. Thumping just a tiny bit louder, edging out just a little more of her irritation. All day long she had been waiting on Xander - and all day he hadn’t shown up. Probably off with Faith, probably holding her hand and talking about all the really groovy patrols that they were gonna go on…
“Buffy! Willow, can’t you get her to stop? Like, magic her legs off or something?”
“It’s okay, Dawn.”
“No it’s not! How am I supposed to concentrate, when she won’t stop with the banging? I’ve lost every game because of her!”
“It’s only Snap, Sweetie. I’ll let you win the next one, okay?”
And wow. Good to see that everyone else had worries too.
She did stop the banging though. Buffy didn’t want Willow defending her, not under any circumstances. It was all still a little bit completely unfriendly… not feeling able to accept any of the apologetic looks from Willow, when she was still struggling to comprehend the feelings that Xander said she had for her…
More hearsay and second hand.
Not like she could just confront her either though…
‘Hey Will, just wondered if you’ve ever wanted to do the low down bump and grind with me’ - or there was always - ‘I heard you might have a crush on me Will… wanna discuss?’
It was all just a nightmare scenario. Telling herself that she could only possibly be expected to concentrate on one nightmare at a time; and at this precise moment, that nightmare was Faith. Or Xander. And where the hell was Xander?!
Ready to actually out-loud scream that question to the heavens, by the time he finally walked through the doors. So unconcerned with anything that looked like worries, his step bouncing him down the stairs with his ever present smile in place.
“Hey, my three favourite ladies! How’s things? Not slaying tonight, Buff?”
“No, Kennedy’s got it. Where have you been?”
Her eyes actually narrowing on him as if she could peer at the answers. Hopping down off the counter, moving to invade his space.
“Out and about. I stopped by and saw you know who.” His gaze routing round her. “What ya playing there, Dawn? Looks pretty intense.”
“It’s Snap, and it is intense. I’m four to nothing down. I think Willow might be cheating though… I haven’t ruled out the unfair use of magic…”
“Hey! I am not cheating! I don’t need to cheat against you - you have about as much hand-eye co-ordination as a visually impaired slug…”
“Slugs don’t have hands.”
“Exactly!”
“Do they have eyes…?”
Buffy could see herself losing him; the way that his feet looked to walk around her to find them… wanting to know about slugs, wanting to find something that sounded like fun…
And she couldn’t allow that. She needed him.
“Xander, can we talk?”
“Sure Buff, what’s up?”
Seeing the way that they all turned to look at her; forgetting about the card game. Waiting to see why her voice had suddenly dropped to ominous.
“In private?”
And it wasn’t for them to know.
As they walked up the stairs to her room, Buffy tried to dispel that distinctly foreboding tone from her voice. She didn’t mean to sound quite so end of the worldy - but it did seem like the end of the world. Everything was changing and she had no control anymore over anything that happened. Not that she’d ever had control - but it had seemed like it at the time. Back home when she always known what was around each corner. When she always knew exactly where Faith would be.
Buffy certainly didn’t miss the beep, beep, beep of the machine that had sat at Faith’s bedside for the entire four years in the hospital; but so much so she missed the reassuring sound of her heartbeat. She missed her own heartbeat.
And it was hard to keep her tone bright and airy.
Shuffling Xander through the door, offering him a seat on the bed.
“Did you know that Angel’s taking Faith out slaying?”
No time for small talk.
“Slow down there, Buff - where’s the crisis?”
“Did you know?”
“Are you gonna beat it out of me if I say no?”
She saw that he was trying to smile, trying to lift the scowl that was currently crossing her face. And it wasn’t that easy. Settling for sighing, for rolling her shoulders and praying that someone, please, had a cure for her tension.
“No, I’m not gonna beat it out of you. I’m guessing you know though, right?”
“Yeah. I’m a little surprised that you know; I didn’t think that Angel wanted-”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why am I not supposed to know? God Xander, what does everyone think I’m gonna do to her?”
He tried to offer her comfort, and she threw his arm from her shoulders. Standing to give herself distance, to be able to iterate her point in ways that showed how it was breaking her heart. “I only want to help her.”
The point that no one seemed to be getting.
“You are helping her - no Buffy, you are.”
His frame also looking to stand. Crossing the room and taking his place at her side. “I know it seems like you’re not being included, like everyone’s trying to keep you away, but it’s not like that. Well, it is - but not for the reasons you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that no one’s worried about what you’d do to Faith, we’re a little more worried about what Faith does when she sees you.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Of course you can, you’re my number one slay gal. What if Faith can’t handle herself though? She’s still hanging onto the edge Buffy… what if seeing you pushes her over that edge? Do you really want to take that risk?”
Did she?
Absolutely.
“And what if it does the opposite? You don’t know what seeing me will do to Faith, none of you do. You keep telling me she’s getting better, she’s doing really great - you even said ‘terrific’ the other day. So what’s the what - how does everyone else know what would happen, when I haven’t got the first clue myself?”
“Do I need to state the risk part again?”
“No, you need to give me the details. When’s the scheduled slay-fest set to occur?”
Seeing that his gaze wasn’t weakening. Trying to soften the order. “Should I wear black tie?”
“Don’t make me do this Buffy.”
His words making her want to soften everything. Buffy could see in an instant that he didn’t want to tell her, she knew how loyal his heart was, she knew that he wouldn’t want to betray anyone. And that made her feel bad because she knew that she would make him commit the betrayal. She knew that she would look to rely on every year that had passed between them, every memory of friendship; whatever it took to have her getting what she needed.
Anything to at least gain back some sort of control.
“I’m sorry Xander. I wouldn’t ask you though, if it wasn’t important to me. You know how much Faith means to me. You know what I feel for her…”
“No I don’t.”
Shocked into standing still. Struck by dumbness.
“I know you care about her, but so what? I think it’s safe to say that I care about her too. I love you Buffy - you know that, and you know I’d do anything you asked of me; but I can’t do this. If it all goes wrong, if something happens to Faith because of-”
“I love her.”
“You what?”
She what?
“You heard me…” Having to find the bed again because she knew only how to collapse under the shock of everything that her words had just revealed. To herself. To Xander. The weight unbearable. “…don’t make me say it again.”
“I didn’t… are you sure? Maybe you’re just feeling down, everything is getting on top of you…”
“No. I mean yes, I’m sure. I can’t breathe for thinking about her… I can’t eat for worrying about her. All I want is to make her better, Xander - to see her smiling again. Whether I like it or not, I can’t keep telling myself that this is just some crazy kind of crush.”
And she really couldn’t.
Buffy had pondered obsession, would have gladly taken obsession over what she was sure she was feeling now. But it wasn’t that. It was this. The reason that her chest only held a dead beat. The reason that she had never been able to let Faith go…
“Wow.”
Bringing her eyes back to Xander. Stunned himself into sitting back down; peering at her now as if maybe he would see the truth. And she tried to show him. Felt the tears gathering and swallowed them down - just held herself steady as she thought of all that Faith meant to her. As she offered it all to Xander.
“You really…? The big L, with Faith?”
Just the strength to nod.
“Wow.” Relieved as she saw him smile. “And this isn’t just some ploy to get me to tell you the secret slay location?”
“No Xander, it’s the reason. What else am I supposed to do - bury the feelings again? Pretend that I’m somehow living, when all I can think about is Faith? I need to see her.”
“Buffy…”
“And you don’t know - you don’t know what she feels for me. You told me she won’t talk about it to anyone, so maybe she’s burying them too, right? And with Will warning her off like she did, it’s no wonder that she doesn’t want to see-”
“Shhh.”
She leant her head against his shoulder as he pulled her in close. Stopping her frantic babble, allowing real words to break free. To vocalise the pain…
“I won’t hurt her Xander, I promise. This is my last chance… this is all that I have left.”
His sigh breaking her flow.
“Please?”
His words seeking to mend her heart.
“Okay. But if something happens…”
“Nothing will happen. Please, Xander…”
“Right. Thursday night. After midnight. There’s some old folk’s place up on Ocean Drive… that’s all I know.”
His monotone making her feel like shit. The way that his shoulders had slumped as he had told her, the way that he was looking at her now.
“Thank you.”
Offering the only thing that she could.
Buffy knew that this a gigantic risk, but what was the risk compared to the loss? How could she possibly get on a plane in five days time without taking one last chance to reach Faith? To find that space to place a foothold. To begin to set things right?
It was no risk compared to love.
