Hadn’t gone over to shoot the shit, Faith’d said. It was true. Someone as stubborn as Buffy wasn’t gonna be talked out of an idea, but traditionally the two of ‘em used another way to communicate things, anyways. Their way left each other green and purple in the morning, but hell if it wasn’t effective. And if the Scooby Collective hadn’t been able to convince Buffy she was goin’ about this the wrong way, then it fell on Faith to get the point across— always on her to do the dirty work. They were all thinkin’ it, wishin’ someone’d step up to the plate and hit Buffy with the bat. And hey, not like there were too many people who’d stand a chance. Plus… well, Faith would be lyin’ if she said her knuckles weren’t itching for a good fight. Felt her blood beating through her, hot and ready to give chase. This was worth the pursuit.
She flexed her hands against the raw windburn— hadn’t had time to slip her gloves on, this was no joyride. The engine was roaring, but it felt like a purr between her legs; Faith wondered briefly whether she was ridin’ right into some sorta trap. Buffy probably didn’t have the brains to set something up so quick, but it was suspect that she’d texted. Memories of those old spaghetti Westerns her dad used to watch as he sobered up flickered through her mind— wait for the flag, draw your pistol, aim well, don’t die. Their fights had a rhythm to them, too. More thrusting and sweating and straddling, but that counted. As long as Faith remembered that this one actually served a purpose, she’d be five by five, no gettin’ carried away, kickin’ her when she’s down.
But she’d be going near that line. Ideally Buffy’d be knocked unconscious, then Will’d be able to bind her, or something. Cuffs wouldn’t do, though that’d be—
Focus.
Tower City Center came into view. Closest mall to Buffy’s house, and the only one she’d be able to get to so fast— it was obvious it was the place she had in mind for a showdown. Faith tried to work herself up, assure herself that she was doin’ the right thing here. Well, frankly, they both were, but B was goin’ about it in all the wrong way. Even if they let her out someday, she might not have a city to come back to. The mini-slay troops were all fine n’ dandy, but they didn’t know which was the pointy side of the stake. People needed her, the Slayers needed her, her friends needed her. Faith needed her.
Buffy was in the parking garage. No one would be headed there at this time of the night unless they had some kinda drug deal to cash in on. Or, apparently, if they had a friend they were tryin’ to lasso back into sanity. Faith left her bike behind one of the pillars, still not wanting to take a chance. Helmet off. She stretched her hands out a few times, ‘til they got their dexterity back. “Alright, Lehane,” she muttered to herself, tryin’ not to already count this one as a loss in her book. She did have a real shot; Buffy was a damn good fighter, but she wasn’t the only one. Faith could do this. She was strong, solid, real, alive. A beating thing of blood and limbs. Wind-chapped skin and muscles wrapped like fists ‘round her bones. A Slayer.
She had a chance.
Just had to remember why she was doing this. A knot of motives was dangerous because she was dangerous.
Faith felt her insides clench and harden, coiling to strike. Deep breath. The air still tasted like gasoline even though most of the level was empty. She glanced around, eyes keening in on a figure about twenty paces away; it had to be Buffy. The lights were dim— several flickering on and off— but there was no mistaking it. That charge felt stronger than ever, like her muscles’d been waiting for this for months. Maybe they had been.
“So what’s with the shitty idea?” Faith called out, “Someone piss in your porridge, Goldilocks?” She traced her eyes over Buffy, sharp and quick like a knife jab. No talking her out of this, so she might as well press all the right buttons. Get that flag up in the air.
Ready, shoot.
Buffy just waited. The parking garage was completely empty, she could have sat down but she was antsy enough from the cold that the added energy of fight excitement made it impossible for her to remain in one spot for very long amount of time. She figured Faith could gleam her location from the few texts they exchanged. She always knew Faith would be the only one who had enough guts to try and stop her, for a bunch of people who cared so much- they certainly weren’t moved enough to at least put up a fight for her. But not Faith, she was the only one capable of turning thoughts into actions. The only one Buffy was really scared might actually stop her.
So when Faith arrived at the meeting, Buffy knew what she was there for. She was gonna fight her for it. But she couldn’t let it happen there, it’d be “politically incorrect” to incapacitate one another in front of so many people. But the parking garage was vacant, no eyes to gaze upon their showdown. She was having a showdown with Faith. It all felt very cartoonish- like one of those japanese shows. The two apposing powers meet on a decided battleground to determine a victor. Who gets out and who goes home a winner. She didn’t know what would happen to her if Faith beat her, because there was no way of stopping her that didn’t involve Buffy in some form of unconsciousness. Or at least not a way Buffy could see. If Buffy found a way to stop Faith from stopping her, well she knew where she’d be the next day.
She squinted into the darkness at a pair of headbeams moving toward her, here was the woman of the hour. Faith was on her motorcylce, which she guessed was supposed to make her seem more dangerous and mysterious. Faith rode a motorcycle and was all sexy and dark, better not cross her. Buffy didn’t need any of those things to make her believe that Faith was a force to reckoned with. She’d fought her enough times to know that. But Buffy wasn’t scared, she was buzzing with an anxious sort of anticipation. She shouldn’t be excited to fight Faith, but she maybe a little bit was. She stood tall, didn’t want Faith to roll in to find her sitting there all mopily. Had to be ready, had to be cool.
She heard her, far off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up just a little, she couldn’t really see her but she could recognize that voice a mile away probably, if she wanted her to. She felt the tension increase as she came closer and closer, her muscles tensing involuntarily. "Ew. What is it with you and bodily secretions, Faith?“ she said, almost a chuckle but not quite; no smile to match it. Everyone kept calling her on her plan, attacking it, but they never seemed to offer up anything else that’d actually work. "If my idea reeks so badly, let’s hear yours.” She kept asking people for their plans, looking for something better, but these great ideas where nowhere to be found. She let out a huff, ready to move but unsure at what line of dialogue would cue the intense music that meant the battle was on. She wanted some sort of ‘123 GO!’ or the firing of a gun, anything that meant the heat was on. Buffy softened the flat hard line her mouth was making. Try not to look as ready to pounce as you really are. She took a few of her own steps forward and met Faith face to face, with their warm breath visible in the cold between them, any little movement could mean go.
This Is A Test 