Chapter Seventeen: Breakfast in Bed

January 2005

The world is ending.

In a big fiery ball of never-ending evil!

You have a cold and you’re not taking it lightly.

“Slayers shouldn’t get sick!”

“But they do.” Faith leans over to grab the tissues from the other side of the bed, ruffling your hair along the way, “The pout’s cute though!”

You pout more when she wipes your face for you. “I can do it myself you know!”

“B,” She chuckles, “You can barely lift your head without passing out.”

While it’s totally sweet that Faith is playing nurse it’s also incredibly frustrating… because even though you’re sort of living in each other’s pockets (even when she’s travelling round the world) and talk for hours every day and occasionally even share showers when big evil demons decide to spill their blood on you… you’re not actually a couple.

You haven’t even kissed once in the six months since you stole her from Giles! A whole six months! And neither of you have kissed anyone else because it feels like cheating and makes your stomachs flip! Stupid flippy stomach…

So not helping.

Today is a Monday but fortunately not a school day. The slayers with families haven’t come back from their holidays yet and the ‘lone girls’ are gathered in a turret somewhere with their teachers, getting drunk on old mulled wine and listening to music so loud it’s making the stone foundations vibrate (which isn’t really helping your headache).

You and Faith are the only ones left in the east wing.

She fusses with your covers, making sure you’re tucked in and that the electric blanket you’re lying on is turned up enough. Despite her scruffy appearance you think she might look the most beautiful she ever has… though that could be the slight delirium talking.

“I don’t like the look of that cloud. And there’s no more pots left to go in your room…” More of her hair escapes from her messy bun as she shakes her head, frowning at the weather.

This is Faith’s sometimes room and Faith’s sometimes bed… though not exactly the circumstances you’ve been fantasising about for the past few months. The roof over your old room- hastily repaired after Willow fell through it- gave way again last night and drenched you and most of your worldly possessions in ice water. Hence the cold.

Your startled screams had woken the entire castle and bought both them and Faith’s huge hunting knife into your room. She’d blushed and looked a little bashful upon realising it was utterly unnecessary. Her electric blanket however was most useful.

This morning you’d woken curled around her; legs and arms cuddling her close. It made you smile despite the pounding in your head. To be cuddled in soft cotton sheets, a pocket of apple-scented warmth between a thick duvet and toasty mattress, with welcoming soft skin and silk pyjamas… Not exactly like anyone would kick her out either!

There was silence as you both came to consciousness, neither wanting to break the moment. Eventually she’d leaned down to kiss your forehead and pull you closer, “How are you feeling? Aside from cold and clammy.”

“Comfy.”

You’d been tempted to question why Faith has silk pyjamas when she sleeps in the nude… and also why a pair in your size… but that seemed a little too much like looking a gift horse in the mouth!

Before you’d even had time to snuggle closer a sneeze had burnt it’s way along your nose until you were convulsing and shooting spit everywhere in a completely unattractive and totally disgusting way. “Sorry.”

Like a true friend she’d just wiped her arms and shrugged. “S’ok. Y’know, you’re not looking too great…” She’d pressed a hand to your forehead, biting her lip in concern and giving you bad thoughts in the process. “Do you need me to look after you today?”

Confession time. The first thought that had run through your head when she’d asked that hadn’t actually been ‘yes please, hook me up to the morphine’ but started more along the lines of a nurse’s outfit, scantily clad you, a warm bed and… well, it’s pretty obvious where it ended up.

“I have some pills in the bathroom.”

You’d sobered up immediately, gulping audibly. “Pills?”

The frown she gave you was both affronted and guilty, neither settling but instead flashing across her face. “For the headache, duh.” She lifted herself up on an elbow so she might fully look you in the face, “I don’t do that stuff anymore. You know that.”

And you did- do. In the six months since you swallowed your pride, called Angel and performed an insane kidnapping plot in the middle of the night- the last part merely circumstantial, it’s not like Giles could have stopped you anyway- she’s sworn off all narcotics. Including cigarettes… for a short period before she realised going cold turkey was actually a lot easier when you were only quitting one thing at a time.

“Besides, if I was stocking up on the good stuff why would I offer you any?”

You’d scoffed in pretend offence and rolled her over to squish her with your ‘not huge but steadily increasing weight’. “Well if I had cookies I wouldn’t share them with you either!”

“Uh… if you made them then please don’t.” She chuckled even as you bounced the air out of her.

“Cheek! That was one time! Well… one, specific time.”

Ok, so you totally burnt the kitchen down and the lumps of flour that were saved happened to be totally inedible even under all the layers of charcoal… In your defence the cookies had been baked in an attempt to rouse a reaction from a still unresponsive Faith (now sitting up and occasionally eating) last August and the chaos of a hundred teenage girls squealing had definitely achieved that.

She’d laughed.

The whole room had frozen, turned as one to stare. And she’d just sat there, chuckling into her cereal, shaking her head in amusement. That was ‘Step One’ on the road to recovery; reaction to surroundings.

‘Step Two; Speech’ took longer. A week. A week of talking to yourself while she occasionally grunted (you’d been pleased for even those at first) until eventually she’d answer your questions, turn her head towards you when you spoke and sometimes even disagree.

But still no eye contact and she’d never make the effort to speak herself, just respond.

It was Angel who cracked the next step. You’d like to believe it’s because he was so incredibly annoying that she just had to shut him up but the idea itself was pretty smart; ‘Step Three; Opinion’ (and yes, Andrew was ticking these off on the board) consisted of Angel and others arguing in her presence. ‘Others’ because you couldn’t promise not to crack his jaw at the slightest opportunity.

They started small; comic books, candy, sports- one person taking Faith’s known favoured opinion and the other opposing. When that didn’t work they moved onto world politics… Which was a stupid idea- she’s been busy being crazy, it’s not like she took the time out of her hectic schedule of flirting with death and killing things to read a newspaper!

Some people deserve a smack.

Fortunately, those same people (person) got that smack when you blurted out in front of her that you’d kissed Angel right before you killed Caleb during the war with the First.

The next few steps went smoothly, other that Angel moping around and holding his jaw like a little girl. Faith re-learnt to take care of herself, she remembered her cooking is fifty times better than everybody else’s and that she’s a strong, fiery person with way too many opinions and a natural optimism. And sure, she broke a couple of bones along the way… none of which were her own… but it’s not like she can be blamed and the girls only hold very mild grudges!

Mild-yet-huge grudges.

It was only after the second month that the… feelings started distracting you. And these are big ‘oh-my-god-I-just-walked-into-a-wall-because-Faith-smiled’ feelings- way huger and more gigantic than any little crush. Or bad feeling or- Oh screw it, Faith’s hot! You think Faith’s hot and you want to get in her pants… and get married and have babies… but currently it’s mainly just the pants thing…

Only one problem; how the hell do you seduce someone?!

Faith’s so dense she apparently hasn’t noticed any of your ‘signals’, even though you’re acting more like an old married couple than ever. You tried slinky lingerie but even though the cold was actually acting in your favour that time Faith wasn’t and merely complemented the colour before walking right on by… without even a glance at your boobs!

You’ve eaten ice pops in front of her, got drunk with her, even tried the old favourite of holding eye contact for a really long time… which pretty much just freaked her out. Until you bluffed your way into a staring contest and came away with really itchy eyes.

Four and a half months of flirting, dancing seductively and making a general fool of yourself (including getting knocked out by an SIT while trying to look cool during training) eventually took their toll. Christmas Eve, after slaving all day to look completely sexy in a tiny red dress and really cute new heels you then fell down the stairs, broke off one of the heels, accidentally threw your drink in Xander’s eye in the process and got made to shovel snow as punishment.

Apparently sexy doesn’t work for you unless it’s unintentional… which doesn’t really help when you’re actively trying to seduce someone!

Still… gave Dawn a good laugh.

By the time you all sat at the dinner table your torn dress was covered by one of Xander’s oversized fleeces and your feet swam in Giles’s Wellington Boots. The elegant up do you’d spent hours teasing into a beautiful shape with curled tendrils… pretty much all fell out into a rumpled, kinky mess.

So you gave in.

You stopped trying to make her look at you, talk to you, flirt with you. Instead you laughed as she teased Angel and chatted with your surprised friends (so you’ve been ignoring them a little recently…)

Which leaves you here; being tucked into bed by a girl who can’t stop picturing naked but who seems to have settled quite comfortably into the ‘friend zone’ with you.

Is it sad you’re actually pleased this is the biggest problem in your life currently?

Hey, it’s the holidays and nothing has tried to kill you over the entire Christmas period! That should be some kind of a record!

“It’s ok B, your cooking’s not that bad. Well,” She paused, “It is. But you tried and that’s what counts.” Faith didn’t bother hiding her smirk.

You had tried hard to keep your eyes away from those tempting lips but it turned out to be too hard. Instead you’d turned in her arms to press your back to her and search the room. “How come your room is so much nicer than mine when you only stay here a couple of weekends a month?”

It is a beautiful room; Faith has painted the stonewalls about twenty different shades of mint green- mainly because the paint keeps peeling from the damp. Anyone who doesn’t know her probably thinks it’s a very un-Faithlike room; creamy cotton bed sheets and curtains, a velvety chaise long opposite the foot of the bed and the walls covered in those funny old adverts she loves so much.

“Warmer too.”

Faith chuckled, crossing her wrists over your stomach, “Got a roof so that might have something to do with it. ‘Sides, I like ya room, it’s… Spartan. And… refreshing.”

“You mean cold?”

“That too.” You had settled back down in comfortable silence, content not to move while Faith went off to hoard boxes of tissues.

She pulls another out of the cardboard to add to the pile already accumulating on the floor. Yeah, it’s a pretty room but Faith’s still Faith and that means gross.

“You ever think about the other Buffys?”

What? She standing above you, leaning over slightly and it’s hard to keep your eyes firmly on her and not down her top. “Well…” You snuffle as she wipes your nose again, “The dead one sometimes.”

But what about the other girl? The one you sent back to Italy in your place- the one who now shares The Immortal’s bed rather than just his house…

You think of her often. You wonder what she’s doing, which parties she’s been to, if she knows the significance of that mint green room… if it’s even still there. You’d like to believe she does- that, even though she’s just a girl from Connecticut with hair dyed to match yours and a trust fund she’ll never need to use, she can look at Faith and just… know.

Is that stupidly sentimental? You’re not sure whether or not you believe in fate or soul mates or… but that’s stupid, isn’t it? You believe in magic, you know it exists. You know heaven exists; you’ve been there. You believe in destiny to some extent, Faith’s still here. But when it comes to the abstract concepts… Is that girl still you? She’s just pretending but… but Dawn’s a part of you and sometimes, the way she looks, the way she laughs before you’re even halfway through the joke, the things she says that you’re sure you’ve never told her- details even you missed.

“Not the other one.”

Faith frowns “Never? I think about Italy a lot.”

You blink rapidly- she actually thinks about this stuff? To be honest you were starting to think she’d completely forgotten you ever were together. “Sure, Italy. Not her.”

“Jealous?” She laughs.

“No! God no! Well… I miss the sun. I’m jealous of her sun- not the… the… sex… with…”

“The… Immortal…!” She booms like a sports announcer.

You shoot up to slap a hand over her mouth, “Shush! Are you crazy?! Don’t let them know we’re-” ‘awake’. The room suddenly spins, the bed slipping to the side. “Oh… My head…”

“Hey, hey.” Faith lowers you back down slowly, “Ya not gonna puke or nothin’ are ya?”

You check, “I don’t think so.” Your stomach disagrees. “Maybe if I just… lie down…” The room starts to look hazy so you close your eyes and nestle into her fluffy pillows. “Ugh…”, all your limbs feel like lead.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok.” She leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Just lie there quietly, ok?”

So you do. You lie and watch her wander round the room, collecting up the tissues, straightening your wet pyjamas on the radiator and staring out the window again.

She likes the rain, likes the way it pounds against the castle walls, how the sound echoes through the building. When you ask she says it’s because the sound reminds her where she is, here, in Scotland, with you. It must help because she hardly ever freaks out nowadays; no violent rages, no deep depressions, no manic urges to jump off the castle walls and see if slayers really can fly (they can’t. Thank you Glory for that tip…)- oh sure, she’s still a little up and down, reassuringly unpredictable and kind of childish… but that’s sort of what you love about her.

It’s hard to pin point the difference to last time, whether it was being in LA that freaked her out or your friend’s general evilness. They are, of course, on strict orders not to upset Faith. No one has dared defy you yet so you haven’t really thought up a punishment.

But it would be a bad one. With pain. And possible eternal torment.

“I like your hair like that.”

“What?” She spins round, brushing yet more falling hair out of her eyes.

“I like your hair.”

“Really?” Faith chuckles, checking herself in the mirror. “Looks like a rats nest!”

“No! It’s pretty… having your hair up really shows your face.”

She winces. Whispering so low you almost miss it; “Heard that before.” As if she hasn’t said anything she turns with a smile. “That delirium really settin’ in, huh?”

Maybe. Slightly. Feels nice. “At least it looks better than mine did on Christmas Eve.”

Her eyes slide left slowly, the way they do when she’s thinking really hard. “Oh. Was it not meant to look like that?”

She’s kidding, right? Right? Because you’ve had cute hair and that was definitely not in any way cute. She gets that, doesn’t she? She- she liked your other hair? The hair when you-

Oh. No. She’s laughing. Bitch.

“You big meany! Don’t freak me out like that!”

Instead of being scared by your totally steely glare she just keeps giggling like an evil little girl. “Your face! Your face!”

And she keeps right on laughing… “I hate you.”

Finally she sobers up, thumping her chest to try and get over the hiccups. “Seriously though, you don’t have to dress up for me- I like you all natural and messy.”

Is that even a compliment? Does she not know how much time you spent in front of a mirror wondering if she’d like the way you look? “So much time wasted.”

“So much of Giles’ money wasted.”

Hold on, backtrack- “You knew I was dressing up for you?”

She shrugs, “Well I knew it wasn’t gonna be for Xander. Did notice you checkin’ out Ken’s ass at Christmas though… Still, figured it was for me as ya been doin’ it a while.” Before you have time to respond or even process what the hell is going on she grins and flops down onto the bed next to you, “So did Sushi like you ‘all dolled up’ or ‘au naturel’?”

“Oh you did not just go there…”

“What?” Faith shrugs though she blatantly knows what, “I’m not allowed to ask about her?”

“Well you’re not allowed to pretend to be all cool but really be jealous- you’re the one who started a little club with your creepy British girlfriend!”

The bed shakes as she rolls over making your head hurt, “You’re the one who actually went and got a girlfriend!” It sounds like she’s just joking but you know her well enough to hear the slight hesitancy, the question behind it.

“She’s not really my girlfriend.”

“Well duh.” She scoffs, “You’re here and she’s in China.”

“Japan.”

“Point being? ‘She’s in a country that is not here’, ok?”

It’s hard to tell what she expects you to say- whether you’re meant to deny both Satsu and your feelings for her or prove your consistency in love and defend her. The confusion proves too much for your fuzzy brain and so you just shrug it off, smiling across at her instead. “What happened to breakfast?”

“Uh… I didn’t want you to puke all over my bed?”

“Well I’m feeling better.” You’re not. “I want a Prima Colazione Famosa Di Fede.”

She snickers, remembering her brilliance and the dish named after her. “Y’know, if slaying ever gets dull I could totally be a chef.”

“Because cooking is so fun?” Her eyes do the odd left thing again. “Please stop thinking about food and go get me some.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been quite so demanding- the breakfast she comes back with is probably enough for three slayers; sausages, bacon, mushrooms, scrambled egg, fried egg, waffles, pancakes, potato wedges, smoked salmon, bagels, cereal, yogurt, juice, milk, fruit…

“Is there any foot left in the kitchen?”

She blushes slightly and grabs the scrambled eggs (mixed with chanterelles) from the tray. “It’s cool, Red can always magic some, right?”

“Right.”

A little glowy bubble forms in your chest as she cuddles up next to you, kissing your forehead again and putting down her plate to help you struggle upright. You rest your aching head against her shoulder and pick at the food in front of you.

“So?” She pulls the fork from your limp wrist and feeds you a little pancake.

Mm… yummy. “A solid five.”

“Five?” You giggle as she jostles you, “Just five? Baby I’m five by five.”

You mull that over around another mouthful of, admittedly delicious, pancake. “Twenty-five? I don’t think you can get twenty-five on a scale that goes up to ten.”

“You do when they’re made from scratch and flipped expertly by my own talented hands.” Ok, impressed.

“Those are some gifted hands you’ve got there.”

It takes a few moments for the penny to drop.

“Oh God! I didn’t mean like that! Though- though, obviously they are talented in that sense! I should know. Not that I remember that! Uh… well, I do remember I just- just-! I don’t think about it! Ever. At all. Not even a little- oh snap, I freaked you out didn’t I? You’re freaking! You probably think I’m stupid! I am stupid! This is… this is… kind of rambly, isn’t it?”

She gapes at you, looking straight into your eyes as you fumble on, trying to make it better and desperately yet impossibly locked in a staring contest.

“Y- you… I’ll just be quiet now.” She nods, as if agreeing.

“Okay…”

Hello again uncomfortable silence, so not your friend.

“Ya want some coffee?” The way she says it makes you giggle (though it’s half in relief that the subject has changed); ‘caw-fee’. God, her accent is so sexy! And oddly fits in with the British. She even says ‘Leicester’ like they do; ‘LEH-stuh’ so it sounds like Lester. “What you laughin’ at?”

“You! Say ‘guard’.”

She wrinkles her nose, totally lost in where this is going. “Guard?”

“He he, ‘gaaad’! Funny.” You snuggle further into the duvet, peeking at her over the top.

“Hey! Don’t wipe ya nose on my blanket and don’t make fun of my accent!” The bed bounces as she twists towards you, poking your sides to make you squirm and laugh. “You big meany!”

You hoot and guffaw under her tickling hands, crappy cold momentarily forgotten, “Ha! Say ‘paaak’!”

“No…!” She growls playfully, directly into your ear, fingers still mercilessly tickling even through the duvet.

“Say ‘draaama’!”

“No!”

“Sa-” You can barely speak she’s stealing your breath, making you writhe and pressing noisy kisses to your neck.

“Hush!” She rumbles. The wide grin on her face freezing upon the realisation that you’re sharing breath you’re so close.

Her lips hover above yours for a moment, close enough it almost feels like sparks shoot between them. “Oh God…” The ‘o’ brings your lips up to not-so-accidentally brush against hers. Was that a kiss? Does it count? Could you possibly just have ruined six months of hard earned friendship? Is your head going to spin off your body and explode into a thousand-billion pieces?!

The spring of tension toughens in your chest. Please, please God, don’t let this be it, don’t let this- “I’d better get you that…” Faith leaps up from the bed and points vaguely in the direction of the door she rapidly disappears behind.

“GAH!” You scream in frustration and flop down onto the bed- about to curse her name before you suddenly realise she probably didn’t want to kiss you right now as you’re somewhat resembling a snot fountain.

Faith pops her head back in the room, a wary yet teasing smile on her face, “Hey, you want that ‘CAW-fee’ or not?”

“Wow, awkward.” Willow sympathises later when you tell her. She’s snuggled up, sitting Indian style in the nest of covers that is Faith’s bed, tucking into the remains of your breakfast.

“It’s not awkward!” You rebuff, scoffing half-heartedly.

“It’s kind of awkward!” Glides through the bathroom door.

You roll your eyes, “FAITH! Shut up!” What happened to the days of a good old-fashioned private best friend chat? “You’re not supposed to be listening to this!”

The water in the bath sloshes, probably at an affronted gesticulation “But it’s about me!”

“That’s why you’re not supposed to be listening!”

Willow stares at you strangely for some reason you can’t possibly fathom. “It’s nice that you’re so close.” Was that sarcasm? “Anyway, how’s she taking care of you?” Willow offers you a sausage and you wrinkle your nose as your stomach turns.

“I think my tummy might be about to burst open.”

Your friend scrunches her nose up in revulsion, “Well that’s good- feed a cold, starve a fever, right?”

“Something like that. Course I’m also working on the ‘stay in bed forever and feel better’ principle.”

Willow laughs and moves to huddle under the covers with you. “Great plan. Except this is Faith’s bed.”

Well duh, it’s not like you don’t know it’s Faith’s bed. What does it matter if it anyway? Its not like Faith’s going to chuck you out… oh God, Faith’s going to chuck you out!

She can’t do that though, right? You’re ill! No one should foist an ill girl out of their warm bed! Especially when said girl’s bed is all mushy and by now probably covered in snow! You’re going to have to lie in snow and then you’ll get sicker!

“But if I get pneumonia I’ll go blue!”

“Or die.” Willow answers automatically, her eyes widening comically when she realises what she’s said, “Uh… Not that you’re going to die! Or… get pneumonia! I- I- uh… how’s Faith?”

“Warm!” The girl in question yells back from her bubble bath (stolen from you- expensive and therefore distinctive smelling)

You sigh dramatically and lower your voice to whisper to Willow, “She’s having a huge bubble bath and didn’t even ask me to join her! She’s having a bath with my designer smelly stuff and she didn’t even make one comment- not a single innuendo. And the other day I said ‘innuendo’ and she just let it go! Didn’t even make a tiny joke, not a one…”

She pats your shoulder comfortingly. Recently the two of you have been bonding over your seemingly unrequited lesbian love (though you haven’t mentioned your other crush because it’s just too weird- and what right does Kennedy have to suddenly get that hot anyway?!). It’s nice having your best friend back, especially after all the… unpleasantness of the last year with the time-travelling and bank robbing and… Faith.

How is it fair that so much happens in your life and yet the only thing you can concentrate on is Faith? There was an evil band of slayers running round for Christ sake and the only one you wanted back was Faith.

“Progress report?” Willow whispers, her hand covering part of her mouth in what she hopes is a ‘covert’ manner.

“Nothing.” You sigh, “Nada. Zero. Zilch. Zip.”

The cogs in your friend’s brain start to turn almost audibly. “You could always buy her a puppy.”

That’s the best she can come up with? “I’m not going to buy her a puppy!” You say a little too loudly.

“I like puppies!” The excited, disembodied voice chirps in from the bathroom along with yet more splashing water… if that goes through to the ceiling below you are so not going to be the one to explain it to Giles.

“Stop listening!” You yell back and then go back to whispering, “I swear, she’s just being difficult, or she’s got an odd incredibly selective memory problem. We actually had a talk about it earlier- about how I’ve been trying to seduce her and she’s been…”

“Rejecting you?”

“No! Yes.” Exactly. “Don’t put it like that!”

Willow blushes, “Sorry, ‘rebuffing’?

“Ok. Good. We talked about it and then five seconds later it was almost like we hadn’t. Just like she’d completely forgotten!”

Actually, she’s been doing that a lot recently- normally when Giles starts talking. Though you’re not exactly innocent of the old ‘ignoring Giles’ trick… many a Faith Fantasy born from his boring lectures- the odd thing is when the stuff he’s talking about sort of forces it’s way into your daydreams.

The other day you were having a particularly nice one featuring a Jacuzzi and lack of swimsuits when Faith suddenly morphed into a Krakilof demon… which was sort of problematic as they’re allergic to water and your imagination is apparently incredibly realistic now you’re older.

“Uh… Buffy,” Willow’s eyes slide over to the heavy wooden door (not quite thick enough to block the sounds of various Clash songs being sung at top volume however) “Maybe she’s just ignoring it because she doesn’t want to talk about it?”

You frown, “Why would she not want to talk about it?

“B- because she’s quite happy being your friend and now knows you wouldn’t work as a couple…?”

That is so not true!

Granted, you weren’t the best couple when around your friends but alone… well, it just clicked. Of course you’re meant to be a couple! What does Willow know anyway? She hates Faith!

“Who’s projecting now?”

“Guilty as charged.” She concedes, “But maybe she really just doesn’t want anything to happen?”

“She doesn’t get to decide that!” You’re a ‘couple’- ie, two. There are two of you. She can’t just make you fall in love with her for years and years and then suddenly change her mind!

“Pretty sure she does.”

“No!” You growl. It’s been too long now; you’re too hooked to just give up! Plan Seduce Faith isn’t going to just become a lot of scribbled tactics on the backs of envelopes and a pile of ruined clothes! The damn thing is going to work!

Sure, if you had a choice to start over and choose your ‘one and only’ it wouldn’t actually be any of your past lovers (except possibly Satsu) and Faith would pretty low on the scale because… let’s be honest, she’s not exactly the type you saw yourself with. She’s not the ‘take home to mother’ type and she’s sort of gross and teenage… which isn’t really that surprising as she only became legal to drink three weeks ago… and she’s nutty and weird and has absolutely no future prospects and nor does she care and… and you love her.

Completely. “I… I changed my life for her, I changed who I am just so I wouldn’t be repulsed by her-!”

“Thanks B!” Faith yells before you can add ‘actions’.

“You’re welcome!” You call back unconsciously before realising she was being sarcastic and shouldn’t be listening anyway, “Faith! Either listen to the whole conversation or shut the hell up!”

“Yes Ma’am!” She goes back to singing, ostensibly not in the least bit bothered by your insult, while you turn back to see Willow gaping at you.

“Will, I can see your tonsils.”

She shuts her mouth with a snap and instead widens her eyes just a little more. “You- you’re repulsed by her too?”

Ignoring the ‘too’ for the moment, you search for a way to explain. “I’m not blind Willow, I know what she did was wrong, I know that she’s going to keep on doing bad things that-”

“That’s ok! That’s kind of sweet in a way. You’re- you’re trying to redeem her! Like Spike.”

Spike? Spike who you helped find his heart just so he could try to rape you? “It’s not like that!”

She jumps as you shout, “Right, so it’s more like you love her in spite of everything she did?”

“No! You don’t understand!” And she doesn’t, she really just doesn’t get it!

“Sorry! Buffy, why are you getting so angry?” She cowers slightly, even though you both know that in a fight she’d best you.

“Because it’s worse than that!” And it is. “I… I told the truth, it was just a crush- while we were friends. I fell for her when she went bad ok? Is that what you wanted to hear? You want to know just how wrong and twisted I am that the sight of someone holding a knife to my best friend’s throat actually makes me jealous?!”

Willow gulps but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not just repulsed by her I’m disgusted by myself.”

There’s silence and you just know Faith is listening; the pipes gurgle as she pulls out the plug from the bath.

“Maybe…” Willow starts awkwardly, “Maybe you deserve each other?”

Anyone else and you would have taken that at face value and punched them. The way she said it though… it wasn’t a curse, it wasn’t meant with malice… she actually thinks you’re well matched now. “Are you… Are you approving?”

“Of you and Faith? I’m coming around. Might even help you with the seducing plan if you like.”

“What?” She wants to seduce Faith?

“Oh! No- I meant, I’d… you know, set things up. Tell her to walk into a room where you happen to be changing or something.”

Nice idea but for that to work you probably have to not discuss it while she’s listening! “You do know she can hear you, right?”

“Uh… I don’t think she can hear anything over the sound of her own singing. Or-“ She puts her head on the side, listening hard “Is that just shouting?”

“That’s what I say about most of her music.” You laugh and then listen politely as she tells you about Kennedy taking her to a rock concert for the first time. It’s a pretty tame girlfriend story so you tell her about Faith begging you to have sex with her in a fountain in Italy because… actually, you never really found out why- it was cold and public and not really as fun as it had sounded.

Willow gasps in all the right places and soon you’re swapping anecdotes back and forth. It’s nice. Friendly.

“Swear to God Will, if you give me the ‘protecting my sisters’ speech again I will scream. It’s Faith! F-a-ith! You hate her!”

“Word!” Floats through the bathroom door- along with a thin trail of smoke.

“Faith! You’d better not be smoking in that bathroom!”

You don’t really mind but it’s nice to have pretence at control you don’t really want. Besides, you used to boss her around about the big stuff, now it’s just the little things.

“No Ma’am!” She’s taken to calling you that lately when you’re being too pushy. Is it odd that you kind of like it?

“Well, we’re sisters now.” Willow defends, “Besides, she’s a step up from Eleanor Roosevelt. Barring Satsu, your taste in women isn’t that great.”

“That is so not-” Faith steps out of the bathroom and all speech literally dies.

She’s wrapped in a fluffy white towel with her wet hair trailing down her back. It’s grown long and she hasn’t bothered to cut it recently so it’s reaching her lower back, in little ringlets at the ends. You want her so bad right now you sort of don’t care Willow’s here, you’d take her right now, against the mint walls, if you could just be sure she wouldn’t push you away.

Well actually… it’s sex so she wouldn’t push anyone away… but that’s not the point. It’s all about love. Whether she loves you. Which she obviously kind of does… but is it the right kind of love? Is it proper ‘I want to be with you forever’ love?

Why can’t you just make her love you? Well- not ‘love you’, she’s your sister slayer and you have a lot of good history so there’s love already but you don’t want her to love you like Dawn! You don’t want kisses on the forehead and chats about boyfriends, you want- you want-

Oh screw it- you’re buying the girl a damn puppy!