Wasn’t too long ago that Faith was the one in the bed, Buffy standing over her and showing off that scythe, her scythe. She was the Slayer with the claim to it, and that was why today, she was the one lyin’ there with all those broken bones and bruises. Faith wasn’t exactly ready to get her slay on again yet, but it didn’t feel like her ribs were squeezing against her lungs when she breathed anymore, and smoking a cigarette was no longer an act of self-flagellation, at least not the immediate kind. Still smarted wicked bad when she did a touch-test, but she was getting there. Couldn’t say the same for Buffy. Far as Faith could tell, she hadn’t been able to get out of bed by herself since she’d landed here, and given Slayer healing, that probably wasn’t a good sign. Meant serious. Maybe not knife-to-the-gut serious, but it was probably hospital-worthy.
No one else could’ve stopped Buffy, and no one else could’ve given Faith the forgiveness she needed. Between her recent apology to Buffy, and finding out there were no post-fight hard feelings, the knife was taken out. Clean, didn’t tear anything along the way. Somehow the two of ‘em were better than ever. Knocking the shit out of each other really cleared the air, or something; strengthened that connection with a reminder that they were the only two capable of— of whatever this was. One hundred new Slayers and they were the only two with the history and legacy. The only two who constantly decked each other.
Friends were weird.
The stairs took more outta Faith than they usually did, but she knew Buffy’d appreciate the visit, and it wasn’t like it was torture, anyways. Unless B started callin’ her either of those two unmentionable nicknames, they’d be five by five. But if she brought up Thin Mints, she was gonna get a punch in the face; Faith couldn’t be held responsible for that.
She heard Buffy typing away before she walked into the bedroom— Xander’d brought over her laptop the other day, and now she was making it her goddamn goal in life to antagonize Faith over the internet. Because real life just wasn’t enough. Luckily Faith’d been asleep during the drop-off, otherwise things might not have gone so smooth with her and Xander— she had no fuckin’ idea where the two of them were right now, and she didn’t wanna find out like this. Still, ‘least B had something to do.
Faith lingered in the doorframe for a moment before stepping in; knew Buffy’d sensed here there anyways, no turning back. Not that she wanted to— just needed a second to push that stupid smile down. The one that crept onto her lips every time she’d come up here. Stupid. Faith shook her head and seated herself on the end of the bed, “No ice cream this time,” she crossed her arms, “You ate all the chocolate, and I already had hosies on that. You were ‘sposed to eat the strawberry and vanilla so I didn’t have to.” Why’d Willow even buy those weird three flavored ice creams if Faith always dove right for the chocolate? “And I’m not here to help you take a piss either, so don’t even ask. I just got bored, I guess.” Hours upon hours of sitting on a couch and workin’ crosswords wasn’t exactly Faith’d idea of a good time, and she knew Buffy had to be feeling it too— that pull towards wanting to get back out there. Wouldn’t do either of ‘em any good to dote on that though. Faith contemplated something, blowing a strand of hair away from her face, “Know any seven-letter words for ‘difficulty’ that end in an a?”
Buffy was lying in a bed at Willow’s house, in the care and keeping of Mrs. and Mrs. Rosenhane Leberg. She was realizing with increasing certainty that her back was broken, though she hadn’t actually told anyone about that just yet. It was all so strange, a month or two prior and she wouldn’t have been able to fathom it. So much had changed so quickly, she’d been thrown into the middle of a media circus. She’d gone through betrayals and makeups and somehow come out of it sort of okay. Her sister was going through the one thing Buffy would never in any universe want for her, but at least there was Spike to help out there. Spike, now he was an entirely different situation all together. She couldn’t begin to explain whatever it was that was going on between, they both knew it was more than friendship. All of these changes, all of them out of her control. She hated it. And yet, even in the darkness that was these times, happiness had crept up on her.
She should be guilty, she should be brooding, that’s how everyone else reacted to their sins. But instead their was a sort of lightness inside of her, hope, that couldn’t be pushed away. She’d failed, she didn’t save the girl, she physically couldn’t save her. Losing against Faith meant that Penelope’s blood would be on her hands. If there ended up being any blood. Her heart jumped with hope, maybe there wouldn’t be any blood. Maybe Penny’d come out of this in the not dead sort of way. She wished it could be true, but reason told her it wouldn’t. And she couldn’t find the passion inside of her to be pissed about it. At least not pissed at anyone but herself. But even that was a sort of pissed off that she’d been channeling toward getting better, toward getting back in the game. Penny’d gone and registered herself with Buffy’s face on, she hadn’t been able to stop it. But as soon as she was able, she’d stop it from getting farther than that. She would save her. She didn’t have a plan yet, but she knew it’d come. Plans always came.
Buffy was snapped from her thoughts by the sound of Faith’s footsteps. It was Miss Stop Buffy’s Plan herself, the woman of the hour. She looked up from her computer, minimized the list she’d been typing up on Notepad: “Things Needed to Infiltrate The Media Machine”. The list wasn’t very long yet, but she had a few good ideas. Ideas she’d share once they were a little more than half baked. Faith’s smile was contagious, Buffy felt one corner of her mouth turning up. It wasn’t in her control. Faith and Buffy were happy to see one another. It’d been years since either of them could say that with complete honesty. She let out the whisper of a laugh at the thought of it.
“Ick!” she said, her nose scrunching up at Faith’s (hopefully) joking plan that Buffy eat the strawberry and vanilla and leave the chocolate for her. It wasn’t that either of those flavors disgusted her, she just preferred chocolate was all. "Hey! Willow’s the one that brought me all those bowls of chocolatey goodness. Blame her.“ She shrugged her shoulders as if to say ‘wasn’t me’, and impish grin spreading across her face.
Buffy nearly puffed up her chest pridefully when Faith said she wouldn’t help her pee. She did not need her help with that, thank you very much. But honestly, despite the great pain it’d caused her, Buffy was now able to make it to the upstairs bathroom all on her own. Couldn’t fathom doing the stairs quite yet, but she was beyond relieved to find that she actually could walk. It just hurt like hell and made her want to cry and scream and… She shook those thoughts off. Not that she actually shook, she just did a little mind shake and focused back on what Faith was saying. "Oh piffle,” she said with a hint of playful British accentery. “I know you’re up here because you can’t resist my womanly charms. My ladylike grace is magnetic.” She finished with a dignified nod of her head, eyebrows knitting together all serious-like.
It didn’t last though, her hardened face broke with a couple of giggles that spilled out of her lips. But Faith’s question seemed to pull them back together again, only this time for real. "Seven letters…“ She counted the letters of words under her breath nodding her head ever so slightly with each letter. C-H-A-L-L-E-N… Dammit. "Um, how about ‘pickle-a’?” She looked at Faith pretending like she really meant her suggestion. “Wait is this for one of Willow’s crosswords? I’m not about to be a part of this, it’ll be Buffy-D…” she stopped herself short, uncertain of whether the D-word was okay to say around Faith. She’d forgiven Faith for what happened with Dawn, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a sore subject. She looked down averting her eyes from Faith’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I mean, I just. It slipped out.” She kept her eyes down, not wanting to see what she’d find in Faith’s eyes. Anger? Guilt? Hurt?
This Is A Test 