Redemption

Part 1

We were moving at a pretty good clip, and at that rate I figured Sunnydale would be history in no time, left behind just like Boston, another place I had screwed up.

No more Sunnydale, and no more Buffy.

Goddamn good intentions. I could have been on an airplane by now, watching some crappy in-flight movie. But at least I would have been gone. Nope, I had to go make all the wrong choices one more time. I get a little bit of gratitude, and all of a sudden I fall in love with the whole "Super Friends" mentality. Pretty pathetic when you think about it.

So this isn't First Class; then again, I never got First Class. Only Buffy ever got First Class. All Faith gets is the back of some truck.

Story of my life, really.

The truck slowed down now, coming to a stop. This wasn't good. I knew we were on a highway, and it took something pretty serious to get traffic to come to a dead stop. About the only thing that did were accidents. And roadblocks.

I crept to the front of the truck bed, peering out through the dusty wood slats. Sure enough, about a hundred yards up the road, Sunnydale's finest. Shit. Trust the SPD to start growing a brain just as I'm trying to leave town. Jagoffs.

I opened the back of the truck just enough to squeeze through; luckily, the truck was in the slowest lane, closest to the side of the road. I latched the back of the truck and jumped smoothly down to the asphalt. Keeping low, I backed off the road, seeking cover in the tall weeds and brush. The brown, brittle grass crunched under my boots, but I knew there was no way they'd hear me from there.

So, roads were blocked. Time to switch to Plan B. Problem was, I had no clue what Plan B was. And if I was gonna be hiking it, I was gonna need something more than the clothes on my back. Looks like it was back to Sunnydale for me.

Goddamn place is like a black hole.

But what to do in the meantime? I've never been one for waiting around.

I found myself wandering one of Sunnydale's many graveyards. Christ, I think they have more dead people in this city than alive. It was getting on toward dark, and the sun had just set for the day. I knew that Buffy was going to start patrolling soon, so I wanted to be away from the graveyards and into downtown before then.

That's when I saw him sneaking out of his little crypt.

"William the Bloody," I said, leaning casually against the wall of his crypt. "This must be my lucky day."

He looked me up and down, and said in that punk British accent of his, "You must be Faith."

"Currently, yeah," I said.

"I heard that the Slayer and all her little Slayerettes had their shorts in a bunch because of you," Spike said, amused. "So tell me, luv, exactly why is this your lucky day? I heard Buffy sent you packing."

"Because," I said, walking up to him and placing a hand on his chest. "I feel like beating the crap out of someone, and guess what? You'll do."

He lost his smile immediately. "Now, Faith," he said, holding up his hands, "You don't want to do that, I mean, I can help you so much more unbeaten, you know what I mean?"

"No, I don't," I replied, enjoying myself. "Why would I possibly need your help?"

"Uh, because." He was inching nervously away, trying not to let me notice. "Because, I can help you get revenge on the Slayer."

"Sorry, Billy," I told him. "Been there, done that, not interested. Revenge is just a big pain in the ass, you know? I'm much more a direct action kinda gal."

"Ok, well, I can tell you where she lives. Bet you didn't know that, did you?"

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't know that, other than the fact I knew she lived on campus somewhere. "Ok, so tell."

"Oh, no," he said, regaining some of his smugness. "Not until you promise you're not going to beat me up. Old Spike's no fool."

"Ok, I promise."

"Nice we could come to an understanding." He stuck his hands in his pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "She lives with the little witch in room 214, Stevenson Hall."

"Cool, thanks," I said, stepping up to him. "Now I'm going to beat the crap out of you."

He dropped his cigarette and stared at me blankly.

"After all I've done, you think a broken promise to a vampire is going to bother me?" I actually laughed out loud.

"Ok, fair enough," he said to me slowly. "But there's another reason why you shouldn't beat me up."

"Do tell."

"I'm a very fast runner!" With that, he took off. I cursed and ran after him, but the damn rat knew exactly what holes to hide into, and I couldn't stick around and look for him. I had places to go, and Slayers to see.

It wasn't the prettiest picture; Beefstick was so apologetic, almost brooding. He probably told her that we screwed last night. Buffy was really distant, she almost looked like she was in shock. What can I say, twenty four hours in my body will do that to a person. Too bad she can't imagine what it's like living here full time.

"So, I'll talk to you tomorrow," Beefstick was saying.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, her voice so soft I almost couldn't hear it. Beefstick was doomed, and he didn't even know it yet. I could have told him that Buffy doesn't like to share. Neither do I, that's why I slept with him.

See, I love Buffy. Funny-ass way of showing it, I know. But I do. It's like the candle and moth thing, you know? I just keep getting drawn to her. But she didn't want me, she wanted Angel. And that drove me nuts.

It wasn't until I looked at Buffy that I realized I needed some questions answered. Call it stupid, call it idiotic, whatever, but I needed to talk to her again. Find out if my life, and near-death, was worth anything after all.

So I waited for Beefstick to take a hike, and I followed Buffy on her patrol. Problem was, she was always better at the intuitive thing than I was. She knew I was there. About halfway through her first graveyard sweep, she pulled a stake out of her pocket, and said, "Ok, whoever's out there can come out now. I don't have time for this."

"What, no puns?" I asked, stepping out of the bushes. "I'm disappointed, B." Probably not the brightest thing to do, but I can't help making smart-ass remarks. It's in my nature.

"Faith." Her eyes narrowed when she saw me, so different than the polite concern a couple days ago. "Why did you come back? Did you miss sleeping with my boyfriend?"

"Beefstick? Nah, he was ok for a one-nighter, but not my type, you know?" I thought I saw hatred right then in those gorgeous eyes of hers, but I knew she wouldn't make the first move. She'd wait for me to do it.

"So why are you still here?" She never took her eyes off me. Just the way I like it.

"I had a couple of questions. Figured you were the best one to answer them." Always best to be up-front, I've discovered. Hell, I've got nothing more to hide.

"Why the hell would I help you?"

I don't know, why the hell should she help me? There was no good reason for it, but I knew she would; it's just the type of person she is, she helps people. Even people she hates. I just smiled that same knowing smile, the one that never let on exactly what I didn't know. "You will. You can't help it, it's who you are. I got to know you pretty well this past couple days, B. Too bad you can't say the same about me."

She looked at me, really looked at me; like she was sizing me up or something. "What makes you think I can't?"

"You think you know me? You don't know shit about me, girlfriend." I was pissed, now; got right up in her face with it. "Hell, twenty four hours as me? You're lucky you survived."

She didn't back down, I'll give her that. "I know you're all alone. I know you're scared, that you think everyone's out to get you. That you've been dealt a bad hand and you have no choice but to play it."

Ok, so maybe she did know shit about me. I didn't want to let her know it, though. "That's just the way it is, B. You play with what you're dealt. You got dealt a PTA mom, with a nice middle-class household and a college education. I got dealt an alcoholic who beat me and spent our food money on booze and drugs." My voice broke then, goddammit. I hate remembering what my childhood was like; it comes back to me enough when I'm asleep, I don't need it when I'm awake too. "No college, no home, no family, no friends, no future. That's just the way it is."

"You have friends," she told me. Her voice was quiet, and that anger wasn't in her eyes anymore. I wish she wouldn't do this to me. I can take her anger a lot better than her pity.

"Who, you?" I kept my voice scornful, letting her know exactly what I thought about that. "I'm not stupid. There's no way you'd be my friend after all the things I've done to you." I made sure of that, at least, I thought I had.

"You're wrong, Faith. I've been here all along. All you need to do is come back."

"Don't do this to me. Don't fucking do this to me!" I kept shaking my head. I had screwed up my life so much that I thought I would never get another chance with Buffy, and here she was offering it to me on a silver platter. It's all so much easier when we hate each other. I'm familiar with hate, I know how to deal with it.

"Do what?"

"I don't need your pity!"

"It's not pity, Faith. I care about you. I always have."

That rocked me. I looked in her eyes then, and she was telling the truth. I wasn't being played, she was telling me the goddamn truth. And of course, I only had one answer: "You're crazy."

"Yeah, I probably am." She smiled at me. I liked it, it always got to me.

I couldn't stop shaking my head. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" Why are you doing this to me?

"Like I said, I care about you. Back when we were slaying together, things were really good, you know? It was a lot of fun, and you did drive me nuts sometimes, but it was nuts in a good way. Good nuts." She leaned back heavily against a gravestone. "I miss it. Before you came, the only thing I had was duty. You helped me see that there was something to live for in being a Slayer besides averting the next apocalypse. When... you left...a part of me did, too. If I can get that back, if I can get you back, I will."

I had nothing to say. No smart-ass comments, no biting words chosen to drive her away. Nothing.

"So what happened, Faith? How come you went to the Mayor?"

This, at least, I had an answer for. I had practiced this speech, rehearsed it. I knew it by heart, better than I knew myself.

"You always treated me like second-best. Second best Slayer to you, second best friend to Willow, even second best...whatever to Angel. He got your love, Willow got your friendship, and you got to be the hero. I...never...got...squat." I made sure to say that nice and slow.

"And then...then I make one mistake. One! So I killed a guy that shouldn't have been killed, by accident. You were there. So was it 'our' mistake? Was it 'our' problem?" I turned angrily, striding a few feet away to look out across the moonlit graveyard.

"No, of course not! It was 'my' mistake. 'My' problem. 'Faith, you killed a man!' 'Faith, you have to deal with this!' The minute I proved that I wasn't as good as you, that I couldn't be as good as you, you bailed on me."

"I tried to get you help--"

"You tried to get me help!" I yelled, really angry now, turning around to stare at the blond slayer. "Do you know how alone that made me feel? Why I felt that it was all coming down on my head? You never supported me. You never stood beside me. You walked ahead of me, barely looking behind to see if I was following you, like a good little lap dog."

She looked like I had hit her; it tore me up, but I couldn't stop. It hurt me to be hurting her, but I deserved the pain. So did she. "So I went to the Mayor. Figured a little petty revenge was in order against you and the Scooby Squad. Figured, once I got that out of the way I could move on, take that freighter and get the hell outa Dodge. But I actually liked what I was doing with the Mayor. For once, just once, there was someone who didn't treat me like second best. He was wicked psycho, but he cared about me." I laughed harshly at myself. "Like anyone but a psycho would care about me. But you wanted to know why I went to the Mayor? Because he treated me like a fucking person, not a child."

"You're right," she said to me, her voice quiet. "I'm sorry, Faith. I don't ever want to make those mistakes again." She paused, fighting to get the words to come out. I knew how that was. "You know, it was hard for me, after I thought I lost Angel. It was hard for me to trust people. You were one of the few people I let in that close. Despite my best efforts, I liked you. Heck, I even looked up to you." She smiled at me again, and I got that trapped feeling. The one that tells me my heart isn't mine anymore, part of it belongs to her. "Please don't shut me out, like last time. I don't think I could take that again."

She really knew how to take the wind out of my sails. All that beautiful anger that I had worked up was gone, and I was too tired to even try to bring it up again. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means I want us to be friends again," Buffy told me. "We've really hurt each other, and I don't want to do it anymore. I don't think you do, either."

"You think we have any choice?" I was trying to resist this for everything I was worth, I really was. But I wasn't putting up more than a token protest at this point, and she knew it. It had all beaten me down; the police, the Mayor's death, the killing, losing people I cared about. I didn't have the energy to fight her anymore.

"I think we do. What about you? Are you willing to give it a shot?"

The psychologists from my old High School back home always said I had "trust issues." I never liked letting people in close; all it was was setting myself up for disappointment. But I knew that by doing that I was setting myself up for loneliness.

What'll it be, Faith? Possible disappointment, or certain loneliness?

She had me. "Yeah."