Je Me Souviens by Queen Zulu

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fanfic gets me nothing but noticed. Joss and the Mutant Enemy finger puppet own the characters; the plot is mine. No archive, list, or individual gets monetary compensation for my little habit. My other car is also a Porsche.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
The Written Word: http://www.angelfire.com/dragon/writtenrealm/index.html
Feedback: Always welcome.
Spoilers: This Year's Girl.
Author's Note: Yes, I do always read Author's Notes. So here are some for you. "Je me souviens" is the Québecois motto and means "I remember". The lyrics are from Harmonium and, loosely translated, mean: "For an instant, I forgot myself; that allowed me to write this song. For an instant, I turned my mirror away; that allowed me to see myself as I truly am. I lost time, but I gained time. I need a story I can tell myself." This is, of course, Very Significant to the story. P.S. You should go buy their CDs. The story is dedicated, with wry indulgence, to Dylan, whose mp3 rocks my world; to Electra, who raced with me; to Aron, who kept me awake til all hours, writing; to gilibij, who nagged constantly and was my memory; to Mac, to whose "Mile High Club" I so often turn to for, ahem, 'inspiration'; and to everyone who cosseted and encouraged me along the way.
Pairing: Buffy/Faith

Summary: Faith wakes up from her coma, but revenge is the last thing on her mind.

She was sure of that much. There were still images flashing through her mind. A rainstorm. A knife. Something about falling. She frowned and tried to hold on to the pieces. If she could catch them, then she could force them to make sense. But the dream faded too quickly, and she was blinking at a ceiling so white it hurt.

In fact, everything hurt. She ached. Her body felt like a lead weight. That was wrong. She heard machines beeping and hissing. The ceiling showed only blank tiles. She needed to move. There was somewhere she needed to be. She lifted her arm – God, it was heavy – and stared at it. Pale skin. An I.V. taped to her hand dripped clear fluid into a vein. She turned her head. An I.D. bracelet banded her other wrist. She squinted at it, tried to focus. Finally, the blurred letters cleared.

She tried to roll over onto her side. All her muscles protested. The I.V. pinched her skin. She bit her lip and pushed herself up with one hand, until she was sitting in the bed. The room was small and bare. One bed, surrounded by machines counting out her pulse, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation. She watched the little spikes travel across the screen, blip blip blip. And thought, I'm supposed to be somewhere.

She turned her head when she heard a rattle outside the door. Her whole body tensed. She wanted to run away. She was trapped, and that was bad, because someone had been chasing her.

The door opened. She edged across the bed, as far as she could from the light in the hallway. A woman rolled a cart into the room. She was dressed in white, short and round, with brown hair cut in a bob. She was reading a chart, making notes with her pen, and then she looked up. She jumped nearly a foot in the air, her hand going to her chest, the chart clattering to the floor, the pen rolling under the bed.

"Oh, my dear," she said. "How you startled me!" She smoothed her uniform and picked up the chart. "You're awake," she said. "Well, of course, you already know that! Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Nurse Owens."

She nodded at Nurse Owens. She glanced at the door and wondered if she could reach it before the nurse. Escape. She swallowed.

"Well, well, this is certainly a surprise," Nurse Owens said, bustling to the bed with her cart. She bent down and retrieved her pen. "I'm afraid I was already writing down that there had been no change! Just goes to show, you can't let your assumptions lead the way, not in nursing, anyway. Poor child. Well. I guess you're hungry. I'll have to get the doctor, of course, no sense starting you on solid food and then getting my knuckles rapped for my presumption. But then, I'm not the only one, am I?" Nurse Owens smiled and reached for her wrist.

"There, be easy, I just want to take your pulse. Can't trust the machines forever, can we?" Nurse Owens touched her hand, then clasped her wrist. Her hold felt firm and gentle at the same time. "Hmm, strong, good. I told them so, of course, but doctors are too high and mighty to listen to me." She made a note in the chart. "They said that with a coma of this magnitude, we need never hope for a full recovery! But you were different. Lots of REM activity. I pointed it out on the EEG – most coma patients, you get very little in the delta region, of course. You were more asleep than unconscious. But listen to me go on. How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "I –" The croak that emerged surprised her, and she cleared her throat. Nurse Owens shook her head and went to the sink, getting her a small paper cup of water. She drank slowly, feeling her fingers tremble around the fragile cone of the cup. Finally, she spoke again. "I'm supposed to be somewhere," she said. Her voice still sounded husky, but far more natural. She licked her lips.

Nurse Owen patted her hand. "No, dear, I'm afraid not. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you've been in Sunnydale General Hospital – the long term care ward – for eight months."

"What happened?" She looked around again. The room was incredibly clean, even for a hospital. Everything smelled like bleach on top of vomit, like there were some smells that couldn't be washed away. It was all too clean. No one ever visited here. There were no flowers, no get well cards. Shouldn't your friends send you flowers in the hospital? Wasn't that the right thing to do? Maybe not after eight months. Maybe not if they thought you wouldn't wake up.

"Well, dear, I'm not sure. I only transferred here five months ago. Let me see..." Nurse Owens flipped back through the pages of the chart. She looked over the nurse's shoulder and saw line after line of the same quirky handwriting. Patient condition shows no change. No change. No change.

"It says here that you were in a motor vehicle accident. A pedestrian. Hit by a truck...Upper left quadrant wound, possibly impaled on debris...subdural haematoma. That's what's listed as the root cause of the coma." Nurse Owens peered at her. "What is the last thing that you remember?"

"I remember that – I have to be somewhere. I have to go." She turned her hips. Her legs were tangled in the covers. She pushed at them.

Nurse Owens caught her hands. "Here...Miss Wilkins...or may I call you Faith? Such a pretty name."

"Faith," Nurse Owens decided. "There is no possible way I can allow you to leave the hospital." She shifted Faith's legs back onto the bed and freed the covers, then started tucking them in again, properly, with hospital corners. "First, you are still far too ill. We would want to see a substantial recovery before you were released. Second, you appear to be suffering from amnesia. Where would you go? And, finally, you are still a minor. We can contact your next-of-kin for you, but you can't leave all by yourself."

Faith let Nurse Owens raise the bed until she was sitting more comfortably. The room was hazy in front of her eyes. She leaned back against the pillows. If she fell back asleep, would she ever wake up again? "Who are they?" she asked.

Faith forced her eyes to stay open. She was much warmer with the sheets tucked around her. Everything was warmer. She didn't hurt as much, now. "My next-of-kin," she said. "Who are you going to call?"

"Your guardian – he was the Mayor of Sunnydale. He, ah, he died...just shortly after you were hurt. Faith, I'm so sorry."

Faith tightened her lips. Dead. Her guardian. And there was someone chasing her, with a knife – no. That was only a dream. She shook her head. Richard Wilkins. What had she called him? Dad? Mr. Wilkins? She moved her tongue around the names. Nothing felt familiar. Was she supposed to be sad now? She wondered if she would cry if she remembered him. She reached out for memories. There was only a thick fog, and the sound of a thunderstorm. Rain, falling. Blackness. Nothing.

"Oh, but there is someone else," Nurse Owens said. "In case of emergencies...here we are. Rupert Giles. All his information appears to be current." She rested her hand on Faith's shoulder. "You must be exhausted. Don't worry. You're going to be fine. I'll make the calls, and I'll have the doctor come and check on you, just to be sure. All right?"

Faith nodded. She tried to relax. She laid back on the bed. Rupert Giles. There was still nothing, no associations. It was kind of a strange name. She pulled harder, trying to find some crack in her mind where all her memories had disappeared.

"Shh, there." Nurse Owens soothed the hair off her forehead. "Don't try too hard to remember. Amnesia is common in coma patients, and it's usually temporary. You'll be yourself in no time. Everything will be fine."

Nurse Owens smoothed the blankets one last time. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite." She turned off the light and wheeled her cart back into the hall.

Faith closed her eyes and listened to the rattle of the wheels for what felt like a long time. Good hearing, or else she was imagining that she could still hear it...the murmur of other people's voices...the shuffle of footsteps... The weight of the hospital settled on her chest like chains holding her down.

They let her eat soup the next morning. They'd taken the I.V. out of her arm, and all the other tubes as well. The oxygen machine was pushed into a corner. An orderly wheeled a cartful of trays into her room. He extended the table arm over her lap and placed the bowl in front of her. She held the spoon easily. The shakes in her fingers were gone. The broth was thick and warm and filling, but tasteless. When the orderly returned, she asked him if Nurse Owens was there, but he shook his head. "Late shift," he said, and offered her a bedpan.

"You'll be able to walk soon enough, once you've had some physio. Then we won't pamper you," he said, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't watch. I'm a professional."

She cautiously returned his grin. Was that the kind of person she was? A kidder? "Thanks. Not now."

"Okay." He pointed at the call button. "You can try the nurse's station later, but they might be busy. Don't get too impatient."

She waited until he'd left, the door clicking behind him, and then she shoved the blankets aside and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She didn't feel weak. The pain was mostly gone, except when she stretched too far. She put her weight on her feet. It was fine. She walked to her bathroom easily. She thought it made sense that a person who hadn't moved from their bed in eight months ought to need physiotherapy. Didn't muscles atrophy after that long – a use it or lose it kind of thing?

But she felt fine. Strong, even. She came back into the room and tried a few warm-ups. Her body seemed to know what to do. She went through an entire routine of stretches without thinking about it. When she finished, her body felt like it was hers again. Nothing stiff or unnatural about it, not like when she'd woken up yesterday. The quicker thump of her heart was gratifying. Her breath came evenly. She made a fist and smiled at it. She flexed a bicep and felt it with her opposite hand. Nice. Her whole body felt good, toned and hard. She was too pale, but once she got out of the hospital, the sun would take care of that.

She hopped back on the bed. How long until that guy, Rupert Giles, came to see her? She listened to the sound of people passing back and forth in front of her door. If she concentrated, she could hear the drone of a television down at one end of the hall, and call bells ringing at the nurse's station at the other end. Wicked. She hadn't been imagining it. Her hearing really was that good.

And, if she knew her hearing was good, it meant she knew that other people didn't hear as well as she did. Was that like a memory? She closed her eyes and thought about it. She knew stuff...she knew lots of stuff. How to stretch enough so that her muscles felt the pull, but not so much that she hurt herself. She knew the orderly had spoken with an accent – Texas. Screwing up her eyes, she imagined a map of the country. Geography. She knew that.

But when she thought about anything to do with herself, there was nothing. She knew her name and that she had no allergies. She knew she'd been in a car accident on May 20, 1999. She counted the months. That meant it was February 2000, or close enough. She'd seen her chart and knew she'd missed a birthday while she was unconscious. She was seventeen now. She knew that the guy whose name she had was dead.

Rupert Giles. She knew nothing about him at all. Would she recognize him when he walked into the room? Would she suddenly remember everything as soon as she saw him?

Waiting was boring. She knew that, certainly. She sighed and kicked her legs. The hospital gown was ugly and faded. Had they left her wearing the same one for eight months? Her head itched and her hair was greasy. She picked up a hank of it and studied the thick, black strands. Well, as long as she was meeting this guy, she might as well look good, and maybe find something to do while she waited.

She headed for the shower, stripping off the gown as she walked. She grinned as she dropped it behind her on the floor. Obviously she didn't care too much about showing off her body. She stared down at herself with a slight smile. She ran her hands down her sides and then up to cup her breasts. Everything was in the right place, that was sure. And in working order, she thought, when her nipples stiffened. But there was something – she moved her right hand over her stomach, just under her ribs. There was a ridge of scarring there, puckered pink against her pale skin. She moved closer to the mirror and watched her fingers move over the bumps and roughness, then back onto smooth skin. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird. As if it should hurt – it should hurt forever. She frowned at the girl in the mirror. She was a stranger. She didn't know anything.

In her dream about the knife, she'd been stabbed. Right there. Same place. Who had done it? The person chasing her...

Impaled on debris in the accident, Nurse Owens had said. The dreams were part of the coma. They didn't mean anything.

She ran the water as hot as she could stand it. The hospital had tiny bars of soap and a shampoo dispenser on the wall, no conditioner. Still, it felt amazing to be clean, even better than stretching. The towels were too small. She dried herself on the top sheet of her bed. She made a face at the hospital gown, but was all she had. She put it back on. Without a brush, she couldn't do anything with her hair. She finger-combed it a bit, then tucked it behind her ears.

And again, she was left with nothing to do. Would stupid Rupert Giles never get here? Long lost – what? She tried to decide on a relationship. Relative? Friend? She hesitated, then threw in lover? for good measure. Well, anyway, when a long lost whoever wakes up from a coma, then you went to them first thing. This was getting annoying. She paced around the room once and thought again about just leaving. Running. But that was stupid. Like Nurse Owens said, where would she run to? She didn't remember where she was or where she was supposed to go.

Staying in the room for another five minutes, on the other hand, would drive her stir-crazy.

The sound of the TV down the hall decided her. She left the sheets thrown back on the bed and went to see what was on.

Faith glanced up for a moment as a middle-aged man in a too-big sweater and khakis hurried by. He chased after a nurse, not paying attention to much else. She turned back to the news she'd been watching. Now, at least, she knew where Sunnydale was, and also what kind of weather to expect for the next week.

Another group of people rushed past. Faith looked up again hopefully. Sooner or later Rupert Giles had to show. That name was all she had to hold on to. She was doing her best, but so far nobody had come asking for her. She watched the group running down the hall. They were about her age. There was a guy with floppy brown hair and two girls, a brunette clinging to the guy's arm and a redhead in the world's ugliest skirt and blouse combination. Too young, she decided. She glared at the old man half-asleep in his wheelchair. He was drooling on the remote. She'd been waiting for him to nod off so that she could grab it and channel surf to something more interesting than reruns of the Golden Girls.

"The room is empty. I'm telling you, she's fled the country. That's what felons do, isn't it?"

"Maybe you're right, Xander. It could be for the best. At least then we wouldn't have to deal with her."

"Yes. Let the psychotic killer go murder foreigners. Meanwhile, Xander, I think we should go back to your basement, so that we can light those candles I bought and then have sex near them."

Faith gave a snort of laughter. She leaned her head back. The little group was standing near the nurse's station. The brunette girl was fawning all over the guy. He was shooting panicked looks at the redhead, and she was rolling her eyes. Faith snickered to herself. This was better than anything the TV had to offer.

The guy – Xander – nodded and glanced over his shoulder. "Do you think she could be, you know – lurking? Waiting to pounce? 'Cause I gotta say, the pouncing did not go in my favor the last time. It was very 'Faster, pussycat, kill, kill!'"

Red shook her head. "Nah, she's too dumb to lurk. It'd be, like, ooh, I'm so cleavagey and slutty, I don't need a plan! I'm just gonna attack right now!"

Who on earth could they be looking for? Another couple was approaching them, some big lumbering football type and behind him, a blonde girl. Faith leaned further back to get a better look at her. Something about her –

Maybe this was someone she recognized. It felt like that. Like she knew something about her. It was as if she had a word on the tip of her tongue and couldn't quite remember it. She frowned and shook her head. How did she know the blonde girl?

"Hey, Buffy," Xander said. "Are you bringing the whole Initiative with you, or just Riley? 'Cause I'm thinking even you might need back up on this one."

"You can sense her?" the football lunk asked. He looked down the hall, his eyes passing over Faith. She turned away so that it wouldn't be obvious that she was listening. "What does it feel like?"

"Yeah, Buff, spill. We want details," Xander said. His girlfriend whacked him. "What?" he asked. "It's a psychological graduate student thing, right, Riley? Research."

Before Xander could get hit again, the older man came back from the nurse's station. He held a medical chart under one arm. He took off his glasses and started cleaning them. "I'm afraid they don't know where she could have gone. She ate breakfast in her room, but she is certainly not there now. The nurse I spoke to was convinced she would be too weak to even get out of her bed unassisted."

Buffy glared at him. Faith had to strain to hear what she said. "She's a Slayer. Of course she's not too weak. She could be anywhere by now, Giles!"

Faith blinked. Rupert Giles had arrived at last. And that meant they were looking for her.

But Faith kept bumping into the same brick wall. Where would she run to? If these people knew her, then maybe they could help her remember things. Like the blonde girl, Buffy. She felt so familiar. It sort of tingled.

She took a deep breath. No matter what they thought of her, she had to do something. They'd find her eventually. She stood up and headed down the hall. She stared at Buffy. What was it about her? It was almost uncomfortable, how strong it was. Tingly, and, well, strangely good.

Buffy had her arms crossed and was frowning at the floor. She shifted, like she could feel it too. Then she looked up. Faith stopped. Buffy sure as hell didn't look welcoming.

"Yeah," Faith said, wondering what to expect. They might know her, but it was clear they didn't like her. She really wanted to run. This was too much like her dreams. Fear, mixed up with that low-down tickle. She flinched, but she waited for Buffy to approach her. "Uh, hi," she said.

Faith shrugged. The whole group surrounded her. Only Xander, Buffy, and the redhead girl looked angry, though. The other two younger ones only seemed curious. Rupert Giles was studying her carefully. "I didn't have anywhere to go," she told him. He was the easiest one to explain it to. Wasn't he her emergency contact?

"Did you think we were gonna go easy on you?" Red asked. "That we'd just forget everything you did?"

"Well," Faith said, trying a smile, "I did." God, what had she done? She fidgeted. Maybe this was why her body kept trying to run away. It knew more than she did.

"Ha!" Xander pointed at her dramatically. "You still show no remorse. A TV judge would so give you the smackdown for that."

"Xander." The older man, Giles, took his glasses off and glared. "Before all of you get carried away, I believe she's speaking literally." He settled his glasses on his nose again and lifted the chart. "According to the nurse who phoned me, a preliminary analysis suggests that Faith is suffering from complete retrograde amnesia."

"Isn't that convenient," Buffy said. She wasn't exactly sneering, but Faith could hear it in her voice. Why did the only familiar person in the world have to be such a bitch?

"Why?" Faith asked. She tried frantically to remember the car accident, or anything before she woke up yesterday. How did the police come into it? "Did the guy who ran me over die or something?"

"Ran over?" Buffy laughed, but she didn't sound amused. "What are you talking about?"

"The nurse told me that's how I got hurt." Faith lifted a hand to her stomach. She could feel the scar through the thin material of the hospital gown.

Buffy looked at the spot, then frowned and backed off. "Anyway, the police won't be able to handle her."

"Nor is there, in fact, an outstanding warrant for her arrest," Giles said. "Or else it would be listed in her medical file, and she would have been placed in a more secure ward. I believe the Mayor managed to bury all reports of her involvement."

"The mayor...you mean Richard Wilkins?" Faith asked. "He was my guardian." That only got her more glares. Shit, didn't they realize how scary it was to stand around listening to people discussing her criminal past when she didn't even know what she'd done? "You are Rupert Giles, aren't you?"

"Then shouldn't you be taking care of me or something? The nurse said you were my 'in case of emergency' guy." Everyone was staring at her. Faith crossed her arms. It was getting cold in the hallway with just the stupid gown on. "Listen, I don't know you, any of you, and I don't know whatever you think I did. But I want to leave the hospital sometime, and they won't let me unless you say so, 'cause I'm a minor. Can't you just, like, get me out of here, then tell me what the hell is going on?"

Giles stuttered for a moment. He blinked at her, as if he'd just noticed that she was only wearing the hospital gown. That, and how pale she was. "Well, I suppose so," he said. "I'm sure we can get you discharged." He smiled. It wasn't reassuring.

Faith glared at him. She didn't want him talking about her as if she wasn't standing right in front of him. He flinched as if she'd leapt at him with a knife. What was it with these people? Was there anything she could do to get a straight answer out of them?

"Normally, I would suggest we contact the Council for instructions," Giles answered, with a doubtful glance at Buffy. "But I think we're agreed that their actions would most likely be..." He hesitated, then made a chopping gesture. "...less than helpful."

"Yeah, and what if she's faking?" Red folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at Faith. "We get all trusting and sympathetic, and then she strikes."

Giles shifted a bit. He lifted a hand to rub the creases in his forehead. "I hardly believe..."

Faith turned back to her. She'd felt the Buffy's eyes on her throughout the conversation. It was worse than Red's anger, Giles' caution, Xander's fear, and all the curious stares. She'd tried to ignore it, but she still felt that maddening sense of familiarity. She hated it. Faith didn't want to know Buffy. There was something frightening about her. Fear stabbed her like a knife each time the blonde girl spoke.

"Go on, give me your best shot." Buffy brushed away Riley's restraining hand and his warning mutter of "Buffy, maybe this isn't the best idea..."

"Yeah, unless you're afraid." Buffy raised an eyebrow, but Faith could only stare at her in confusion. "Show me what you remember."

"I don't remember anything," Faith said. She realized it wasn't true the moment she spoke. Her brain refused to cooperate, but her body knew things. Stretching. Strength.

Faith looked at her hands, then back at Buffy. Hit her? Faith curled a fist. She felt a flash of memory. She had done this before. They had stood like this, eye to eye, fighting, or – competing, somehow –

And how dare they come to the hospital and accuse her? They insulted her and threatened her and refused to explain anything. What gave them the right to judge her? She'd woken up from a coma and they treated her like she was an inconvenience to be shoved back into a cage. Faith frowned and tightened her fist. She knew how to do it correctly. She adjusted her fingers. Anger boiled in her stomach. How dare they? How dare Buffy be so familiar, and scary, and cold, and not tell her why?

That's what they expected. They wanted Faith to attack. She would prove them right if she did. But Faith thought she remembered how to turn the tables. She knew how to keep an opponent off guard. No, that was wrong. She didn't know.

Buffy blinked. She was sprawled on the floor. Xander and Willow gaped down at her. She stood up and swung around to face Faith. Faith backed up a step, holding out her hands. "Wow," she said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I don't even know what that was!" She stared at her hands. "It was wicked cool, though."

"Buffy, are you okay?" Riley put an arm around her, as if she needed to be supported. Buffy pushed away from him.

"I'm fine." She narrowed her eyes. Faith was grinning at her hands, as if congratulating them for acting completely on their own. Buffy hadn't anticipated Faith's sweeping throw. She'd been knocked off her feet. Before, she'd always been able to see Faith's moves coming from a mile away. She exchanged a glance with Giles. Even one good punch from Faith could have hurt her badly. Faith hadn't even tried. She wasn't even gloating about her throw. Much.

Xander and Willow were close to freaking out. They'd only seen Buffy tossed into a wall. They couldn't understand it had been done in a friendly, almost gentle way – for a Slayer. Riley might have been able to tell, but he was blinded by his macho protective-guy strutting. All three of them were glaring at Faith with a mixture of hatred and fear. They were setting themselves for a fight.

Faith looked up from admiring her hands. Her eyes widened. The Scoobies had closed in the circle around her. All except Anya, who had missed Faith's attack entirely. She was trying to feed a particularly well-loved dollar bill into a pop machine.

"Look, I'm telling you, it was an accident, okay?" Faith said. Her voice started to edge into anger. She flexed her fingers. Buffy knew Faith could take them all on at once. Did Faith know that? She seemed to be holding herself back from trying. "Buffy told me to do it, didn't she?"

"With friends like you guys, who needs enemies?" Faith shot back. She backed off a few steps. Buffy noticed she was careful to keep her back away from a wall. "I don't know what kind of crack the nurses are on, but if you guys are my emergency contacts, then I'd hate to see what my family's like."

Buffy held herself back. This was not Faith. Faith was never scared, and certainly never confused. She had never once spoken about her family. Buffy had tried to learn more about them, and Faith had told her in no uncertain terms to back off every time. More than anything, Faith didn't back down. Buffy tried to see her as a stranger would. Faith was pale and shivering. Exhaustion ringed dark circles around her eyes. Her hair was damp and stringy. And they were all standing around her like overeager executioners.

Buffy stepped between Xander and Willow. The Slayer-tingles she hadn't felt in what seemed like too long were washing over her in jumbled waves. Buffy was almost dizzy with them. So what could Faith be thinking, if she wasn't faking the amnesia? Buffy wanted to be cautious, but the lost, scared look that Faith was trying to hide was too much. "You hurt us, before," she said. It was the closest she could come to saying 'You hurt me.'

For a moment, it looked like Faith was going to answer angrily. Then she stopped. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry, then."

Buffy could tell by the looks on Xander's and Willow's faces that Faith's half-hearted apology wasn't going to be nearly enough. "You don't remember any of it," she said.

"Buffy..." Willow started warningly. Buffy shook her head. Willow grimaced, but she didn't say anything else.

Buffy leaned closer to Faith, as if she could see the old Faith hiding somewhere inside the new one. "You really don't remember," she repeated.

"I really don't," Faith said. She tensed up as Buffy stared at her. Buffy almost shivered. She hadn't been this close to Faith since she'd kissed her and left her in this hospital. She'd done her best to stop thinking about Faith. There had been a few unsettled Slayer dreams at first. And for the last few months, nothing. She'd wanted to forget, and she'd managed it. Until right now. And Faith wasn't lying, but she wasn't exactly telling the truth, either. She remembered something. Buffy could see it in the way Faith was trying to back away and lean closer at the same time.

Buffy sighed. She gave Faith some room, waving the Scoobies back, too. To soothe Riley's ego, she allowed him to slide her under his arm. "So she's got amnesia. Now what?"

Giles cleared his throat. "I'm sure the doctors will attest that there's nothing physically wrong with her." He tried to catch Buffy's eye. She knew what he was implying. The police were out of the question. The could hardly let Faith go back to her ratty motel. And there was no way in hell Buffy was going to call the Watcher's Council in. No matter what Faith had done, the Council wouldn't know how to handle her.

The problem was, none of them had the room or the ability to host a renegade Slayer. She and Willow shared their dorm room. Xander was living in his parents' basement. Giles had his hands full with Spike dropping by for blood and Passions. That left only Buffy's house. But she could never leave her mom alone with Faith. Buffy would have to stay with them. It was the last thing she needed dumped on her plate right now, with Professor Walsh dead and Adam on the loose. Somehow, though, Faith always ended up being her responsibility. What the hell had she ever done to deserve that? In her brightest, fakest voice, Buffy said, "Of course Faith can stay at my place. I bet my mom would think that'd be just super."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Bitch," she muttered, too quietly for anyone but Buffy to hear.

Buffy spun around. She wasn't too happy about inviting Faith into her home. She wasn't going to be gracious about it. And she didn't need to be insulted for it. "Listen, you –" she started, but Faith was blinking at her strangely. "What?" Buffy asked.

"What's wrong, Buffy?" Willow asked. She and Xander had been walking ahead as they led the way back to Faith's room. They hadn't seen anything.

Buffy stopped short. Giles' mild look felt worse than an hour-long lecture. If she believed that Faith didn't remember, then she had to accept everything that came with that. Faith didn't know Buffy's hearing was as sharp as hers. She didn't know – anything. Faith had always been such a mystery that forgetting, for her, didn't seem like such a big deal. Buffy tried to imagine going home from the hospital with complete strangers, and failed. Worse, all of them had made it very clear that Faith was worth less than the bus fare they'd used to get here.

"I'm sorry," she said, instead of a thousand insults that sprang to mind. And, because Faith had to be scared even if she was too good at hiding it, she added: "It'll be okay."

Xander and Willow stared at her as if she'd lost the few marbles she'd had left. Faith snorted in disbelief. "Right," she said. "Rainbows and kittens, I'm sure."

"Perhaps we can let Faith settle in at Buffy's today, and meet again tomorrow?" Giles said. "I'll give you two a ride home, Buffy, after Faith retrieves her things."

"Thanks, Giles." Buffy wanted to go with them to get Faith's stuff, but Riley pulled her aside.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder. Giles followed Faith to her room, glaring at the others to keep them where they were. "I don't think I said enemy," she said.

"Well, you certainly didn't say friend." Riley heaved a sigh. "You're going to stay at your mom's place with her, aren't you?"

"But she doesn't even know you two used to fight. She doesn't know about Slayers, or demons, or vampires. Are you going to tell her about all of that?" Riley crossed his arms. "And how could it possibly help her if you did? Your mom can take care of one sick girl, Buffy."

"Riley!" Buffy held down a hand that itched to slap him. "We weren't always at each other's throats, you know. I was Faith's friend...for a while. And maybe that's what I'm hoping she'll remember. If we do things right, this time."

Riley shrugged. "You're basing this hope on what clinical evidence? Amnesiacs regain all of their memories or not, but you can't choose which ones Faith will get back."

Buffy shook her head. "She's dangerous, whether she knows it or not. This is my job, Riley. I'm going with her." Without another word, she turned and walked away from him.

Faith had just finished dressing when Buffy walked in. Buffy gasped. Faith wore the clothes she'd been in that night – the night of the rooftop, the night it all went wrong. And it meant nothing to her. These were the clothes the hospital had saved, that's all. Faith looked down at herself. She smoothed her hands over the leather pants. They were looser than they had been. She smiled nervously.

"You couldn't find anyone else willing to take me." Faith's hands twitched away from the clothes. "I'd rather you gave me a bus ticket and some traveling cash."

"Once I'm better, though. You won't see the back of me fast enough." Faith shrugged. She picked at the shirt. "This is it, you know. I don't have anything else. Leather pants and a skanky top they couldn't wash the bloodstains all the way out of."

Buffy didn't miss the emphasis on 'you'. "But that was a long time ago. I do want you to get better. It's just...things might change when you remember."

"It will get better." Buffy walked across the room, the few steps it took to get to Faith's side. She touched Faith's arm. "I promise."

Buffy pulled her hand back. The Slayer-tingles, which had doubled the moment she touched Faith's skin, faded again. She thought of Riley, and of what would happen when Faith remembered she was a Slayer. "Feel what?" she asked.

Giles hung up the phone at the nurse's station as Buffy and Faith approached. Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. He sighed and studied Faith as he spoke. "I've called your mother, Buffy, and informed her that we're on our way."

"How'd she take it?" Buffy asked. She tried not to look at Faith as she asked. Mom didn't know the whole story where Faith was concerned. After Angel left, Buffy didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Willow and Xander were happy forgetting Faith, too, if for different reasons.

"She seemed eager to help," Giles said. "Riley said he had to go, but that he would call you later. Are you ready?"

Buffy shrugged. Faith crossed her arms and looked away. Neither of them answered.

"I'll bring the car around," Giles said. "Faith, I've arranged for a wheelchair for you, if you like."

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well, hospital policy or somesuch...You can come with me. Buffy will meet us outside in a moment."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Giles always had his reasons. She glanced down the hall. Xander and Willow waited in the lounge. Anya watched The Price Is Right and ignored their whispered argument. "Right," Buffy said. "I'll be right there."

She headed for the uncomfortable-looking orange plastic chairs. Xander looked up as she sat down. Willow glared at the floor.

"Buffy, we don't really wanna listen," Xander said. "We know what you're gonna say. Redemption. Second chances. Nurse Buffy to the rescue...possibly wearing some sort of naughty nurse uniform..."

Anya swatted Xander without looking away from Bob Barker estimating the cost of a toaster oven.

"I mean." Xander shrugged and waved his hands. "Faith has tried to kill us both. If that's not enough to persuade you she's bad news, then we're not in the mood for you to convince us she's a little kitten up a tree."

Buffy leaned back. "And when people try to kill my friends I usually kill them right back," she said. Willow hadn't been this quiet for this long since the first day they'd met. "But –"

"Buffy, she's gonna remember some time, and how safe are we gonna be once she does?" Willow asked. "You aren't going to get a nicely engraved RSVP saying, oh, hey, turns out I hate you, try not to get murdered in your sleep. You're taking her home with you. To your mom! You can't watch her all the time and you can't trust her, amnesia or not."

"You're right." Buffy shrugged when they both looked up, surprised. "Of course you're right. But you also know there's nothing else we can do. She's...well, I put her in here. I mean, she killed two people, and threatened a whole bunch, but I'm the one who stabbed her and tried to feed her to Angel."

Xander sighed and looked at Willow. Buffy met Willow's eyes, seeing the hurt there. "I just – I can't forget that," she said, trying to explain. "Faith's my problem."

"You've got a great big Faith-shaped hole in your brain," Willow said. "You're shoveling guilt in there trying to fill it, but that's not going to help. It's not up to you to fix what she did wrong."

Buffy stood up. "I'm not," she said. "I'm trying to fix what I did wrong. Will..." Buffy held out her hands hopelessly. "I'll be by later to get some stuff. Maybe we can talk about Adam?"

Buffy wanted to say something to help, but they were – all three of them – stuck in this trap of taking their own side. She didn't know how to get out of the hole she'd dug. They didn't understand how she felt about Faith. Buffy wasn't sure she understood it herself. Faith was a responsibility Buffy didn't need, but Buffy owed her; and, more than that, she wanted to help her. She wanted Faith to find herself, so that they could talk or fight or whatever they needed to figure out how something that had been so good had gone so wrong.

So, instead, Buffy left them and went out front. Giles pulled up in his old car, with Faith in the front seat. Buffy climbed into the back. Giles met her eyes in the rearview mirror, but Buffy could only shrug. Willow and Xander would come around eventually...or else Faith would prove them right. Buffy could only hope it would be the former.

Giles made some 'aheming' noises in his throat, but he couldn't seem to settle on a conversation opener. Buffy stared out the window, trying to see Sunnydale as Faith was – for the first time. It looked small.

The ride to her mom's house was a short one, and Buffy was glad to escape the car. Mom came out to meet them.

"I'm Joyce, Buffy's mom." She peered into Faith's eyes. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry...but at least you're awake now! I've been worried about you."

Faith smiled. "Thanks. I guess." She murmured, "You're the first," and raised an eyebrow at Buffy.

Buffy pretended to ignore the remark, as if she didn't have the same sensitive hearing as Faith.

"I'll show Faith my room," Buffy said. She didn't want to get her mom on more of a nursing kick than she already was. They left Giles and Mom talking in the kitchen. "We can only hope Mom's not using it for storage space," she said, climbing the stairs. "If there are crates, I'm carrying them all straight down to the living room."

Faith laughed behind her. Buffy had to remind herself that Faith didn't know she was talking literally. It wasn't time to let the whole super-strength thing slip. Maybe, in a day or two...or after Faith had picked up a car by accident...

Buffy sighed and led the way into her room. It was, mercifully, crate-free. "Home sweet home," she said.

Faith nodded, her fingers hooked in her belt loops. "So, Buffy...when do I get the full story?"

"I'm talking about your friends." Faith entered the room and examined the pictures on the shelves. "Red and Xander look like they're gonna faint if I even look at them wrong. It makes me want to sneak up on them and yell 'Boo!'"

Faith turned around and grinned at her. "Aw, come on. Just to see the looks on their faces. I'd let you watch."

Buffy tried to glare at her repressively, but she found she couldn't quite hide an answering grin. It would be pretty funny. She didn't know whether she'd bet on Willow or Xander to have the girliest shriek. It wouldn't help them to trust Faith at all. In fact, it would probably make things worse. But they were both wound so tight as it was... She chuckled despite herself. "Okay, it would be funny. But don't do it."

"Fine, fine." Faith waved the idea away. "But don't try to tell me you've never had an uncontrollable urge – you knew something was wrong, but you just wanted to do it anyway."

Buffy shrugged. She wasn't going to think about her uncontrollable urges. She'd always been good at ignoring them, and then forgetting them. She didn't want to dig up all her old urges. Especially not to tell Faith. Time to change the subject. "Why do you call her Red?" she asked.

"Oh." Buffy blushed. If she was going to buy the amnesia story, she couldn't get caught up thinking of Faith as the person she'd known for months. She felt bad for not doing introductions. "Her name is Willow."

Faith nodded. "And you're warning me that she wants me to call her by name. Why? What's wrong with Red?"

Faith seemed to digest that piece of information. "I was, huh?" She sat down on the bed, picking up Mr. Gordo and hugging him. She smiled a bit at the stuffed pig. "I bet I had a great one for you."

Faith's smile widened. She set Mr. Gordo aside. Her eyes were sparkling. She hadn't lost any of her teasing instincts. She sensed a weak spot, and she was going to exploit it. "Oh, yeah, I did. I called you something and you hated it." She tilted her head. Confusion clouded her face. "Or else –"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Or else what?" She wondered again how much of Faith's memory loss was an act. Her confusion seemed real, and nobody had ever accused her of being any good at lying. Faith was too open with her emotions to be a convincing actress.

Faith shook her head. "Nothing." The smile came back. "I don't know if I'll remember it, but I can probably guess it. You'll tell me if I'm right?"

Buffy started to protest, then stopped. It wouldn't hurt, and maybe it would help Faith to get her memory back if she exercised it. "Okay. But I'll tell you right now, it wasn't Rumplestiltskin."

"Damn, there goes my first guess." Faith lay back on the bed, folding her arms behind her head. Her shirt pulled up as she did, exposing her toned stomach...and the scar. "So are these my digs now, or what?" Faith asked, but Buffy wasn't listening.

She was reliving that moment eight months ago. The feeling of sharp steel sliding into skin hadn't truly left her hand in all that time.

Faith sat up and pulled her shirt down. "Listen, I'm not – I mean, I have no idea if we ever –"

Buffy frowned when Faith didn't finish her sentence. "What are you talking about?" she asked. She pulled her mind away from the memory of Faith's eyes, brimming with pain, as she let herself fall. Buffy had felt as if she'd been stabbed herself, when she saw Faith plummet from the roof.

"Okay. Great. Because...I'm kinda tired." Faith jumped up from the bed. "I'm gonna check it out. I'll...see ya."

Buffy watched her go, then picked up Mr. Gordo. All this tip-toeing around the truth was not going to help once Faith started to remember. She didn't want Giles giving Faith the facts of life – he'd probably pull out the "One girl in all the world" speech. And Xander and Willow were both too bitter to want to help. It would be up to her...if only she could figure out how.

The guest bedroom was small. A double bed and a dresser took most of the floor space. Faith sat down on the bedspread and bounced a bit. There was too much art on the walls, a weird mixture of tribal African masks and impressionist paintings. Faith lay back on the bed. She wished she still had Buffy's pig to hold. She wished she had someone to talk to who didn't hate her, or expect her to know stuff, or who made her stomach do flipflops.

Buffy did all three. Faith wasn't really tired, but she couldn't stay in Buffy's room. The way Buffy stared at her made her want to squirm. Faith didn't remember herself. The person who woke up in that hospital room wasn't her. But she knew she didn't like being out of control. Buffy's stare ripped up her certainty and threw the pieces all over the place. Of everyone she'd met, Faith knew Buffy the most – and the least. Both, at the same time. Faith felt like they could talk about anything and she would know what Buffy's opinion was before she said it. Then, something would happen. A wall would crash down, and Buffy would be a stranger just like the rest of them.

A stranger who lied to her. The car-crash story sounded less likely with every passing moment. Faith slipped a hand under the white tank top the hospital had kept for her. A single cut in the material matched the scar in her stomach. She wriggled her fingers through the hole. The bloodstains had been bleached away, mostly, but the cut remained. One hole, as if the shirt had been sliced by a very sharp knife.

Faith squeezed her eyes closed. Each dream was the same. She was hunted by someone carrying that knife, and she was stabbed, and she died, and the thunderstorm washed her blood away.

There was a knock at the door and Faith was on her feet before she could think. She stared at her hands. She was holding them up, curled in loose fists. Her weight was balanced on the balls of her feet. She felt like she could jump in any direction, defend herself from any attack. Her heartbeat thrummed, faster than usual, and her breathing deepened, but her mind was calm and alert. She had never felt so ready for anything. She forced herself to relax. It was only Buffy standing outside the door.

Buffy opened the door. Faith took a deep breath and released it. How had she known it was Buffy? Her skin tingled, and she absently brushed the small hairs on her arms so that they lay flat. Buffy stayed in the doorway. She held out a jumble of clothes.

"I got you some stuff to wear," she said. "It's not a lot. You're too tall for most of my clothes. We can go shopping tomorrow if you want."

Faith took the pile. It was mostly t-shirts and sweats. Still, anything would be better than the skin-tight leather pants and sliced tank top. Most of all, it meant something that Buffy was genuinely offering to help her buy clothes tomorrow. Maybe the bitchiness was only an act. "Thank you," she said.

Faith dumped the clothes on the bed. "The room? It's fine. The art's a little..." She shrugged. "I don't know. Not my style? Am I supposed to know what my style is?"

Buffy leaned back against the door jamb. She studied the walls. "No. It's not your style." Her lips twitched as if she was laughing at a private joke. "Definitely not your style."

Faith frowned. Buffy was so confident about what she liked and didn't like. Buffy thought she knew Faith better than she did herself. "Maybe it is. Now. I could change."

Buffy glanced at her for the first time since she'd come in. Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "So you're going to start collecting Waziri war masks and Group of Seven landscapes?"

"Well..." Faith tried to look serious, but Buffy's attempt to hide her smile was putting a dent in the effort. "You don't know. I could."

Buffy nodded, pursing her lips to hold in her laughter. "Okay, I'll keep it in mind. No more Dingoes CDs for you."

Faith nearly asked, "Do I like Dingoes CDs?" but stopped herself. It wasn't fair that everyone assumed they knew what kind of person she was. The kind of person who liked nicknames but not art, the kind of person everybody hated and feared and had secrets from. The kind of person whose body knew how to fight, whose body wanted to fight. She leaned back against the headboard. Buffy stayed in the hallway.

Faith thought about the way Buffy's eyes had lingered on her body when her shirt rucked up. The way she blushed when she talked about Faith's old nickname for her. The way Faith could tell Buffy was lying when she said she didn't feel the sweet tingle every time they touched. Maybe Buffy didn't hate her. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Buffy could have been in love with her. They could have been girlfriends, or exes, or something. It was a weird idea, but not a freaky one. Faith considered it, half-squinting at Buffy as if she could focus hard enough to make the memories come back. Buffy was attractive, no doubt. Blonde hair falling in little tendrils around her face, most of it caught up in a messy ponytail. Bright green eyes, gorgeous smile, cute nose. Killer body. And there were the tingles. The shivery goodness of her presence. As if Buffy being there was all it took to make everything okay. Like they were stronger together. They could take anyone on, any odds, any fight, and come out on top.

And, out of everybody, Buffy was the one familiar face. Maybe because Faith had known her better? Loved her, even?

"So...how did we meet?" Faith asked. Who was she to Buffy? Just a friend? How did anyone become enemies – real, true-to-life nemesises...nemeses...arch-enemies – with a college student?

Buffy squinched up her face at the question, but she swayed a foot or two into the room. "Meet?"

"Yeah. Meet. Y'know, you, me, first impressions. And stop hovering, you're making me nervous."

Buffy made an incredulous sound. "I make you...? Never mind." She hesitated for a moment longer, then walked in to the room and sat down. "It was at this club, the Bronze. You were dancing with this guy, and, uh, he looked like bad news, so when you left with him I followed you. And, he was. But you took care of him, and then, we were sort of standing there. So...that's it. That's when we met."

Buffy blinked. "Dance? All the time. We...I mean, it's one of your favorite things."

"I meant, pick up bad-news guys." Faith knew she sounded angry. The more she got to know about herself, the less she liked who she was. The girl Buffy was talking about was an irresponsible slut. Was she really that girl?

"Fuck, Buffy, I'm trying to find out who I am, y'know? Okay? Could you just answer the question?"

Buffy picked at the bedspread. "Okay. Yes. You picked up guys a lot." She looked up. "But that's – that's not who you were, you know? Not to m – not to us."

"Right." Faith drew up her legs and hugged her knees, drawing into herself. If she picked up guys all the time, it kind of dismissed the in-love-with-Buffy theory. Except it was a theory she didn't really want to let go of. "Cleavagey and slutty. Psychotic murderer. Evil. That's what I am to your friends."

Buffy looked like she was going to cry. Tough shit. Little guilty looks and regret weren't going to cut it. Faith wanted to know why she was being lied to. Why Buffy was lying to her. And she was going to push her until she found out.

"You were a lot more than that," Buffy said. They were both uncomfortable now, sitting on opposite ends of the bed, not looking at each other.

A lot more than that. Faith shot a quick glance at Buffy. Was she just imagining it when Buffy sounded angry – almost jealous – about the guys she'd picked up? In the hospital, everyone had implied that Faith had hurt Buffy, badly. Her, specifically, more than anyone else. But Willow and Xander were the ones who were angriest. Buffy just looked upset, like she wanted to solve this problem but didn't know how.

"This is not fucking fair," Faith said calmly, finally, after they'd sat in silence for too long. "The way you're all treating me."

Buffy's eyebrows raised. "Because I'm supposed to be ready for this? After eight months?"

"At least you had those eight months." Faith tapped her skull. "And now I don't even have whatever life I did before. Not like that's your fault, but –"

Faith stared at her. Car crash, her ass. Buffy was trying to cover up and sucking at it. "But did I do anything, one fucking thing, wrong since I been here?"

"And I can't remember. So maybe you could try telling me the fucking truth, Buffy."

Buffy opened her mouth, closed it again, then got off the bed and retreated to the doorway.

Faith frowned at her, feeling her hands fist almost against her will. She wanted to punch something. Someone. She wanted to fight. "No. But you pretty much just told me I'm right. So are you gonna tell me what really happened?"

Buffy backed up a step, into the hallway. "I just came to give you the clothes. I have to go."

Faith felt empty inside, hollow and hurting. No memories. No friends. She stayed where she was. "You're lying to me," she said. "All of you. Giles. The hospital. Your friends."

Buffy shook her head, denying it, but even she didn't seem convinced. Faith figured it would make sense to be angry about it, but instead she just felt sad. She turned away and looked out the window. Buffy stood outside the room for a minute longer. Once or twice Faith heard her start to speak, but in the end, she walked away.

Faith waited for another minute. Buffy didn't come back. Faith punched her pillow. This was a fucking head-trip. No one was going to tell her what was going on. She'd die of old age before Buffy decided to open up and share. She simply didn't trust her. Faith glared at the empty doorway. She wasn't going to sit around and wait. There had to be another way.

Faith slipped out of the guest bedroom. Buffy had gone downstairs, but she hadn't left yet. She was talking to Giles and Joyce in the kitchen. Faith stopped on the stairs. If she concentrated, she could hear what they were saying. She held her breath and listened.

"Are you sure that's wise? Adam is still at large, not to mention the fact that the Initiative is no longer friendly." Giles' voice was a low whisper, intense and concerned.

"If I see Adam, I'm gonna run," Buffy said. "I don't need my butt handed to me again. I just need to see how Willow's doing...on the encryption, and stuff."

Oh, this was excellent. The people she was staying with were all superspies. Encryption? Initiative? She'd woken up from her coma into an action movie.

"And Faith?" Giles' question seemed to imply more than he was asking. Faith wished she could see his face. He sounded like he was holding himself back from asking what he really wanted to know. There was a long pause. Buffy wasn't answering. Or, if she was, it was with a look Faith couldn't see.

"Faith will be fine here," Joyce said. "The poor girl, Rupert. She only got out of the hospital today. She doesn't even remember why you're all so angry with her."

"Yes, well, her memory may return, and that concerns me." A chair scraped across the floor. Giles started pacing, his voice coming closer, then retreating. "But more than that, it is the fact that she may discover her Slayer powers – and when she does, she'll only have more questions. The sooner we tell her, the more trust we'll gain."

There was that word again. Slayer. Faith bit her lip. Willow had used it in the hospital. Along with murderer. Was that what she had forgotten? That she'd killed someone? Faith stared at her hands. It had been so easy to make a fist, so easy to knock Buffy off her feet. She could have done something far worse. She could feel the potential for violence in her body every time she moved.

"So we gain her trust, and then what?" Buffy sounded bitter. "We turn around and trust her right back? For how long? Let her get her rocks off slaying until she goes wacko again?"

"Buffy. You know that if Wesley hadn't interfered, we might have saved Faith before things went so far. We still have this chance. We must reach out to her –"

More silence from Buffy. Faith ached to see what was passing across her face. Maybe Buffy had done all the reaching out she was prepared to do.

"Buffy..." Joyce's voice, cajoling. "You were so close to her before. What ever happened to make her turn on you...it has to be more than 'because she's evil'. You can't label people like that."

"On the Hellmouth you can." Buffy sighed. "Look, I said she could stay here. I want her to get better. I just don't want her to know about everything – not yet. Not until we're sure..."

"It's better then 'In every generation a Slayer is born'," Buffy said. "No offense, Giles. But it's a sucky way to find out about your destiny."

Okay. For real. These people were off their rockers. Destiny? Faith mouthed the word. It didn't sound like it applied to her. But then, nothing did. The three of them were being serious – unless they'd figured out she was listening and they were putting on some kind of show. Faith doubted that. They'd rather avoid her questions than tell her outright lies, if only to gain her trust. Yeah, right. Like she could have any confidence in people who eyed her like a criminal and discussed her destiny behind her back.

There were footsteps in the hall. Buffy was coming from the kitchen. Faith climbed the stairs and ducked back into the guest bedroom. She left the door open, hoping to hear more. No luck. Buffy and Giles put on their shoes and said goodbye to Joyce, then the front door closed behind them.

Joyce sighed and started up the stairs. Faith threw herself on the bed and waited. It wasn't hard to look bored and nervous when Joyce knocked on the open door. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, it's just the two of us now. If you need anything..." Joyce trailed off invitingly.

Like answers. That was the only thing she needed. "Nah," she said. "I guess I'm just gonna sleep."

Faith nodded. "Thanks." None of this was Joyce's fault, as far as Faith could tell. She was the only remotely welcoming person Faith had met yet. "I appreciate you letting me stay with you guys," she added.

Joyce's eyebrows raised, but she smiled. "It's no bother. You were always welcome here."

Joyce had the grace to blush a bit, but she said, "I would never turn you out of this house, Faith."

Faith relaxed. She let go of the sarcasm and the doubt. Joyce was being straight with her. Even if she wasn't volunteering information, at least she wasn't lying. "Thank you," she said again, meaning it.

"Okay." Faith sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Joyce was nice, a real mom's Mom, but that didn't satisfy her. If she wanted to know what was really going on, she was going to have to go to the source.

So she hadn't been in a car crash. Buffy knew what had really happened, but Buffy wasn't telling. And now Buffy was heading out on a patrol, and talking to Willow about her spy stuff. Faith stripped off her old clothes and put on a pair of Buffy's sweats and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt was pretty tight across the chest, and the pants were a bit too short, but at least they were something different, something new. Faith didn't want to be the person Buffy had described to her. The skank. The murderer. She was going to be herself, and if that meant following Buffy to find out who she truly was, then that's how it would be.

Faith headed downstairs, quietly. It wouldn't do any good for Joyce to hear her sneaking out. She stamped into her heavy black boots and tied the laces quickly. She opened the door softly, holding her breath. She dialed up her super-hearing, but she didn't hear Joyce coming to investigate. She closed the door just as carefully, and went down the porch steps.

Buffy lived on the university campus with Willow, so that would be the safest bet. If she could get directions from somebody...except the streets were deserted. It was only about nine o'clock, but there were zero people out and about. Maybe it was a small-town thing.

Faith had paid attention to enough of the car ride from the hospital to know the way to Sunnydale's single main street. There would probably be more people there. She headed in that direction.

Faith looked over her shoulder. Down the block and across the street there was a line of tall bushes. She turned to face the hedge. That sense of Buffy's presence that she'd felt when Buffy was standing outside her door was back. It was like the hum of contact, but different, muted. She closed her eyes. This was more strangeness, but...she knew where Buffy was. Not in terms of distance, but direction.

Faith opened her eyes, glanced at the hedge, then towards downtown. She shivered and bounced on her toes a bit. Her pulse throbbed in her wrists. Adrenaline slid through her chest, her arms, her legs. The whole world was sharp and clear, never mind that it was dark. Okay. Chalk that up next to the hearing. Night vision. Some weird connection to Buffy.

And a sort of...excitement? Faith realized she was grinning. Her breath slid quickly between her teeth. She wanted – something. Her fingers curled easily into fists. She felt warm, energized. She laughed, and it sounded a bit manic, so she forced it down. She had to be quiet if she was going to stalk her prey...

This was part of what nobody wanted to tell her. Whatever she was feeling, it meant something.

Faith followed her instincts, jogging down the block to the hedge. She found a convenient gap in the bushes and slipped through.

There was a cemetery on the other side. Headstones and graves checkered the lawn sloping away. The sight of them spiked Faith's excitement. This was familiar. She recognized this – moving softly among the tombs, sliding through the deeper shadows, hunting –

Her prey. Buffy. The light from a full moon shone on her hair. She looked like she belonged to the night. She stood the same way Faith had when Buffy's knock at the door had startled her. Balanced on the balls of her feet, leaning forward a bit, both hands up defensively. She was holding something in one hand, and she was talking to a group of guys standing in front of her. Faith glided closer.

"Come on, five against one, that's not very sportsmanlike," Buffy said. "Should I wait for you to call up a few friends?"

The guy at the front of the group laughed. "You're arrogant. I like that. It means you will die easily."

"Um, do you even know me?" Buffy circled the guys carefully as she spoke. "Killing demons professionally for five years running?"

Faith gasped. Buffy tossed the guy over her hip and met the charge of the four other men. She swept the legs out from underneath one and sent two more stumbling back with vicious punches. Faith heard bones crack, but none of the guys seemed fazed in the least. Faith's first instinct was to rush into the fray. She wanted to help Buffy. She wanted to fight. Instead, she gripped the side of the mausoleum she was hiding behind, and watched. Buffy closed with the last man. They spun around together, Buffy's foot snapping out in a sharp kick, the man grunting as he took the blow. Faith could see his face – it was deformed, with wrinkled ridges rising up over his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, Faith swore she could see fangs. Buffy launched herself on top of him and –

Faith blinked. She was sure there had been five guys. But now there were definitely only four, and Buffy was still fighting. And where did she get the skills to beat off four guys at once? Buffy moved like a dancer, all grace and flawless intent, like every move came from years of practice, of perfection. Faith gaped at the whole scene. Buffy hadn't shown anything like this before. She was a college student. A teenager. A normal person.

Suddenly, there were only three guys. Faith saw it happen this time. Buffy plunged her hand down to the man's chest, and there was a poof, and then he turned to dust – skeleton and skin ripped away into nothingness. Buffy just kept going. She did this, and her friends called Faith a murderer? Two guys had just disappeared right in front of her! Faith felt dizzy. She realized she'd been holding her breath and let it out in a long, shaky sigh. Her muscles were twitching. She wanted to run out there –

One of the guys was running away, and Buffy was too busy with the others to follow. It was quick, now, one puff of dust and then another, in the space of two heartbeats. Buffy stood still, panting slightly, looking in the direction of the man who'd fled. Faith couldn't stop staring at her.

Buffy tucked whatever weapon she'd used inside her leather jacket. She stayed motionless for another moment, then, slowly, she turned her head. She was looking in the direction of Faith's hiding spot. Faith saw a frown cross her face. Faith stopped breathing. The tingles had grown to a sizzle of sensation down her spine. Faith leaned against the stone wall of the mausoleum. She was wet, her pussy aching, her nipples hard and chafing inside her bra. And Buffy was still staring straight at her. Surely she couldn't see through walls?

"Faith?" It was only a whisper, but Faith could hear it. And Buffy would know she could. Faith peeked around the corner.

Buffy hadn't moved. Faith closed her eyes and didn't answer, didn't move, didn't think. She was keyed up, feverish, and most of all, bewildered. How could this happen? What did it mean, this whole Slayer business? What the fuck was between her and Buffy?

A long minute passed, then another. Faith heard when Buffy moved away, running across the graveyard as if she knew every inch of it, and wasn't afraid of tripping. Faith stepped out into the open.

The weirdo backed off a step. He growled again, confused, his frown making his forehead even uglier, if that was possible. He waited for a moment, obviously expecting something more from her than she was providing. Faith watched him. If he was like his buddies, he'd attack her as soon as she looked vulnerable. So. Look strong. Feel even stronger. Faith's right hand spasmed shut. She needed a weapon. Buffy's had looked like nothing more than a pointy stick.

So, okay. There were trees around. Faith sprinted for the nearest one. The guy was behind her immediately. Faith reached the tree and tugged on the first branch. Would she even be able to snap it off?

The branch splintered cleanly in her hand. Faith stared at it for a second, surprised. She hadn't even put that much effort into it.

There was no time to wonder any more. Mr. Forehead was almost on her, running as fast as he could, his yellow eyes eager and hungry.

Faith gasped and jabbed her branch at his chest, the way Buffy did. The guy couldn't stop himself on time. He was already mid-jump. He hit the pointy end of the stick. Faith felt it pierce his clothes, his skin – his heart...

There was a poof! and he was gone. Dust swirled on the breeze for a second. Faith closed her eyes and threw the branch down. She didn't know how the dusting worked, but that guy was dead. Was it that easy to kill a guy? Was that what made her a murderer?

Buffy unlocked the dorm room gingerly. Her hand shook. The key rattled in the lock. Buffy gripped the door knob and closed her eyes. Willow had been gone a lot lately, studying or practicing spells with someone from her Wicca group. Buffy had hoped she'd be out tonight, but through the door Buffy could hear the click of keys from Willow's laptop. It sounded like Willow was working on the encryption and getting nowhere fast. She wouldn't be going anywhere soon. Damn. Buffy opened the door and tiptoed in. After their argument this afternoon, the last thing she wanted to do was annoy Willow further.

Buffy sat on the end of her bed and lay back. Sweat trickled down her temples into her hair. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to calm down. The patrol had been intense. She'd felt – watched. Hunted. Ordinary vamps didn't have that effect. There was only one thing that did. One person. It couldn't have been Faith, though. Buffy had left her at home. There was no way it had been Faith out there. She was still weak. She didn't know she was the slayer, or that she was the One Girl In All The World. It was better that way. If Faith knew, she'd run away, or go crazy, or try to kill them all, or something.

Hell, she might do something crazy anyway. Faith wasn't the type to wait patiently for explanations. Even with amnesia, that was still clear. Buffy hated the look in Faith's eyes that said she thought everyone was against her. That she was alone, and helpless, and still trying to come out on top. The only thing Faith knew how to do was fight. And why? Because Faith had never known a time when she was safe, when she didn't have to fight.

Maybe last year. Maybe, one or two times, when Buffy was patrolling with her, Faith had seemed genuinely happy. She still talked incessantly about sex or dancing. She wasn't as cynical, though, and not as bitter. She would tease Buffy gently, without the sarcastic edge that was all Willow and Xander ever saw. Those patrols were the best Buffy could remember. The low-level awareness of Faith's presence, a more or less constant thing, would flare and shine with Faith's satisfaction. And she'd feel –

What she'd felt tonight in the cemetery. The quick blaze of excitement that came when she'd finished off those four vamps. One had gotten away. Buffy groaned a bit, wiggling on the bed. She should have had him. The feeling of being watched had distracted her just enough to let him go. She'd been left hanging. She wanted the kill. It was her fault she'd missed. Heat spilled through her, and she lost concentration. That warmth came from Faith. And Faith was back, that was all. Safely at home, but awake nonetheless. Hurt, and weak, but alive...

Alive. Buffy felt like she couldn't breathe and like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest at the same time. She wasn't a murderer – she hadn't become Faith after all. But Faith was back. With all the hurt and broken friendships Buffy had though she could forget forever. Faith had betrayed her, and how could she leave Faith alone with her mother? Faith the killer. Faith the psycho.

Faith, the girl she'd stabbed, the girl she'd almost killed. Faith, wounded and vulnerable and as open as she'd ever been because she didn't know any better, didn't know what was really going on. There was no way to keep everything from her. Faith would figure it out. And then what? Would they be enemies again?

If Faith went bad, Buffy knew she wouldn't be able to stop her. That fight, eight months ago – every move, every punch, every strategy was burned into her brain. Buffy couldn't do that again. She couldn't kill Faith, not again, not for real. And if she told Faith the truth, then that's what it would come to. Buffy had to change things, to make them better. How? Faith didn't trust her. Who would, after the way they'd all treated her today? There was simply no way out. Tell Faith the truth, and lose her forever. Keep her in the dark, and drive her away.

Buffy opened her eyes. Willow was still typing. She was ignoring Buffy as much as she could. She was used to these post-patrol rituals of Buffy's. Buffy shed her inner Slayer like she was taking off a coat, but it took concentration, effort. Every night she had to shove down those uncontrollable urges Faith had mentioned earlier.

The urges were always more uncontrollable when Faith was around. Tonight, slaying those vamps, Buffy had nearly melted from the sensation. God, why couldn't Willow be at her friend's place tonight? Buffy seriously needed to get rid of some tension.

She had to go back home soon. There'd be no relief then. Giles and Mom thought she was checking up with Willow on the Initiative after her patrol. She was actually escaping Faith. Buffy would never be able to touch herself when Faith was within sensing distance. Faith had never been shy about letting her know she'd fuck anything that walked on two legs. "As long as they're breathing," she'd told Buffy once, "which is a higher standard than you seem to have, so really, I don't know why everyone thinks I'm the naughty one here."

Buffy quickly shook that image out of her head. She sat up and sighed. Willow glanced over her shoulder.

"How's it going?" Buffy asked, waving vaguely at Willow's laptop. She didn't understand what Willow was trying to accomplish, at least, not beyond "Initiative computers bad, sneaking in good."

Willow twisted her face into an apologetic grimace. "It's going perfectly, if our plan was to see if my eyeballs really could turn into cubes," she said. She closed the laptop and twisted around to face Buffy, resting her chin on her chair back, pouting slightly at her failure. "How was patrol? Are there lots of little piles of dust out there getting together to organize a Buffy Kicks Butt convention?"

"Four, at least," Buffy said. "But I think the convention was called off when they found out the hotel double-booked them with vacuum salesmen."

Willow gave her a look that was nearly an eyeroll. Buffy sighed. So they hadn't moved past the Faith thing by avoiding each other all afternoon. That meant they still had to talk it out. Just wonderful.

Willow got up and started cleaning the room, straightening things on her desk that were already at right angles and tucking an overhanging sock all the way into the laundry basket. Buffy hugged her pillow and watched. She wanted a shower, but if she left the room now, Willow would probably go to bed so that they could avoid this talk for another day. Buffy frowned. When was the last time they had really talked? About stuff that was important, not just Scooby business? Never, really, since Willow had baked guilt-cookies, just after Oz left. Buffy had Riley, and Willow had magic.

Willow glanced over from where she was tucking her sheets in so tightly she'd probably have to become two-dimensional if she wanted to get into bed. "Huh?"

Willow snorted. "Are you gonna listen this time when I say Faith shouldn't be staying with you?"

"No...probably not." Buffy ran a hand through her hair. Ick. Really, shower should be higher on the list. But, first, Willow. "I know you don't think so, but I can handle her. It's more the why – not the 'she tried to kill us' why, you know, the other why – the why that was why before she tried to kill you."

Willow's lips tightened. She hugged her knees, frowning fiercely at her bedspread. "It's nothing."

Willow flung herself down on her bed and curled up, facing the wall away from Buffy. "No."

Buffy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Willow sniffed – quietly, and normally Buffy would pretend she hadn't heard. But not over this. Buffy cautiously shifted her position. Silently, she moved across the room and sat down on Willow's bed. Willow tensed when she felt Buffy's weight on the mattress.

Buffy sat cross-legged and reached out a hand to stroke Willow's hair. "What did she do?" she asked.

"She really doesn't remember," Buffy said. "Giles says she might get her memory back, but she might not. I don't know about you, but if I woke up and everybody around me hated me, I'd want to know why." She sighed. Her fingers combed through Willow's hair, over and over, soothing. "She's so...alone. Before, you know, she had me...sort of. I mean, I had you guys, but it's..." Different. Buffy tried to find words that wouldn't make Willow feel worse. No matter how much help Willow and Xander were, with research or getting donuts or magic or even as bait, they still didn't know what it was to be the superhero. It was lonely. And, for those few months with Faith, it...hadn't been. They argued and fought and disagreed, but Faith understood. Willow understood her, too, but not about the Slayer stuff. And not always about Angel, either – Faith always knew, and Faith always told the truth, even if it was awful. Even if it hurt. "Faith thought she only had me," Buffy said. "I guess I never got that before. But if she hurt you, Will, if she did something to you...you're my best friend, you know that, right?"

"Yeah." It came out shaky. Willow shifted a bit. "She didn't do anything. Not like – not like you think. It...it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." Stroke. Stroke. Staring out the window. It was a full moon. Somewhere, out there, Oz was wolfing out. But he was gone. And maybe Willow was still hurting over that. When was the last time Buffy had checked to see how she was doing? Last year, it was the same thing. Buffy must have really missed a lot. So wrapped up in Angel that she didn't see whatever had caused this big crack between Willow and Faith. She knew Willow didn't like Faith. It was partly her fault, for getting caught up in that warm, tingly togetherness, the rightness of slaying with Faith. They were both jealous of any time Buffy spent with the other one. But she couldn't cut herself in half. She couldn't be that girl for everyone.

"Buffy..." Willow stumbled over her name. She was nervous. Buffy could feel a babble-fest coming.

"Have you ever had...um, like, feelings, the kind of feelings that are – feelingy, but you didn't know if they were the real feelingy or just, maybe, friendship, like good friends feelingy?" Willow looked up hopefully.

"Maybe...they make you feel good, and when you look at them you think 'wow', but you know everybody's gonna think they're pretty much the wrongest person for you?"

Willow squirmed. "Not that kind of wrong. The kind where you...I mean, have you ever felt – like that – about someone who was less than guy-like?"

Buffy's hand froze. She could hear Faith's voice, teasing and dark. "You ever get that good, down-low tickle?" Watching Faith pump her hips and grunt, Buffy's body had immediately provided her with a perfect example of the feeling in question. She blushed. Was this what had Willow so upset? "I am not attracted to Faith!" she protested.

Buffy backed up. She nearly fell off Willow's bed. "I don't feel that way about you, either!" She stared at Willow in horror. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not hitting on you, Buffy!" Willow sat up, anger burning bright colors on her cheeks. "I'm telling you why I was mad at Faith. And this is why – she said – you're acting just like –" She clamped her mouth shut. "I wanted you to meet somebody. Who I maybe...like. A lot. But if you're...going to be like this...I'm just, I can't. I don't want to talk about it."

"You're acting like I just told you I had leprosy." Willow spread her arms. "This is me! Lesion-covered Willow! Infectious and rotting!"

"I don't – you just, you caught me by surprise. I'm sorry." Buffy sat down on her own bed. Willow likes girls. No, Willow likes a girl. Buffy tried not to feel weird about it. It didn't work. She'd brought up the white elephant in the room and now it was stampeding through her brain. "And...Faith knew?" she asked. How awful with that? Willow was her best friend, and Faith knew while she didn't?

"She said, out of the blue one day, no reason, she just was in the library and she told me I didn't really love Oz. And I got upset and tried to leave and she just called after me, 'Trust me, when you find her, you'll know Wolfy was just about having a boyfriend in a band.' And...I hated her for that, because...it was Oz, you know?" Willow sniffled and pushed her tears back with the heel of her hand. "And now...I guess, she's right, and when I saw her today, and I was already thinking about telling you...it just. All came back." She glared at Buffy. "Plus I'm still not forgetting the holding-a-knife-to-my-throat thing, because being a hostage? Not the warm-fuzzy feeling you'd expect."

Buffy nodded. She didn't know what to say. Willow had shocked her, but it was wearing off. She wondered how Faith had known. What had Buffy missed seeing? Maybe it was just that Faith had been known to – again in her words – "scratch the itch" with whoever was handy. Faith knew, because Faith liked girls. Buffy thought again of Faith's teasing, Faith's flirting...but, that was so the wrong direction for her thoughts to be headed right now. "So," she said. "Who did you want me to meet?"

"Well...okay. Yes. I want to meet her. I want you to, um...follow your heart. But in a less Afterschool Special kind of way." Buffy smiled. "And, with Faith...can you be okay with her? I mean, if she recovers, and she...hates us...that's different. But, for now?"

Willow shrugged. She looked down for a minute. "It's not that I don't want to give her a chance, Buffy. I know she's sick, and hurt, and all that. But we've given her lots of chances, haven't we?"

"Maybe not." Buffy struggled with her words. She kept having to face this issue over again. But with Faith being memory-loss girl, it just kind of changed the way she saw it. "We never gave her a chance this time. Because she was meeting us for the first time and already the deck was stacked against her." Buffy sighed. "I don't know, Will. I just want her to understand. Maybe none of us can forgive each other if she doesn't know what she's done, but if she remembers, I want us to be able to."

I don't trust myself that much, Buffy thought, but she didn't say it. It would hurt so much if Scared Faith turned into Psycho Faith...if Buffy had to face her as an enemy. Again. "I'm going to take her shopping tomorrow, maybe get her used to...things," she said. "Did you want to – ?"

"Join you? Buffy, I'm trying, okay, but that's a bit much. I'll try and talk to Xander, though." Willow climbed to her feet. "It's late. Riley called before, he said he'd drop by after his patrol. He'll probably be here soon."

"They say the course of true love never runs smooth," Willow said in her snootiest voice.

Buffy grinned. This was good. They'd talked, they hadn't wigged, and things were better. "Right. Shower for me." She tossed on her robe and grabbed her toiletries, then headed for the bathroom.

The hot water reminded her how tired she was. Buffy worked shampoo through her hair, feeling the pleasant ache in her muscles that told her she'd had a good patrol, a good fight. Stepping back under the spray, she stood there, feeling the needles of water heat her skin, rinsing the soap away. She cast her mind back to the cemetery. If only that one kick had connected...she could have snapped the fifth vampire's neck, maybe even decapitated him, if she'd been a hair quicker. Buffy reached for the conditioner. The slayage had been good, though. Better than good. Buffy squeezed the conditioner into her hair, rubbing at the small, tense knots in the back of her neck at the same time. She'd been on top of her game. Five at once was pretty steep odds, even for her. But she'd felt...smooth, practiced, perfect. In sync with the world. And – watched. Like she was in the Olympics, the way Faith had joked once. The world's eyes on her, admiring her, somehow in tune with her.

Buffy sighed and ran her hands down her body. The air was thick with steam, the shower almost too hot. The bath gel was slick on her skin. Her body was tingling again, the way it did when –

When Faith was watching her. When their Slayer connection flared up with Faith's attention, her appreciation.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat. Don't think about Faith. She didn't stop herself from bringing her hands up to her breasts, sliding her palms over her nipples. They were hard, slippery with the gel. God, this was what she needed, what her body had been demanding since the end of the slay...when the too-familiar feeling washed through her. The one she'd denied to Willow, packaged up and stored in the back of her mind where she didn't have to think about it.

Faith, stretched out on her bed, her shirt sliding up...showing her flat stomach dipping below her ribs, the flare of her hips under the too-loose pants. Her breasts moving up and down with every breath...

Buffy pinched her nipples, sighing. The electric feeling speared through her body. Her legs felt weak, her pussy throbbing. She reached down to touch her clit, the bath gel mixing with her own wetness. Buffy ran her finger up and down her slit, slow and hard, feeling her body twitch each time.

Shouldn't be thinking about Faith. Think about...Riley. Or Angel. Or even fucking Parker.

Buffy tipped her head forward and bit down on a moan. It was no good. Faith filled her mind, dancing, strutting, teasing her. Grinning, her full lips inviting Buffy to give in, go bad –

"Fuck!" Buffy yanked her hands away from herself and hit the wall of the shower stall. She was not going to come while thinking about Faith. Faith was just...on her mind. With the waking up and the returning to her life and the completely messing up her head.

Buffy wrenched the taps closed and toweled off quickly, trying to convince her body that it should be satisfied. She was flushed, her pulse throbbing on the surface of her skin. Her pussy ached, wanting to take up where she'd left off. It wouldn't happen.

Of course Riley was waiting for her when she got back to the room. Buffy blushed guiltily when she saw him, but she forced herself to smile and kiss him quickly. He grinned and ran his hand down over her ass, then stepped back. "I'll wait in the lounge," he said. "You're coming over, right?"

There were a thousand excuses at the tip of Buffy's tongue. She had a load of homework. She was exhausted. She had to get back home. She was worried about Faith.

Faith. Faith sleeping down the hall in the guest bedroom. Faith wearing Buffy's clothes...or, maybe, not wearing Buffy's clothes.

Buffy dawdled over getting dressed, until Willow asked if she had lost something.

"No. I'm going. It's just –" There was no good way to explain. A single Really Big Conversation per night was plenty. "I wanted to know when I'm going to meet Tara."

Distracting Willow was that easy. She blushed. "Uh...tomorrow night? The Bronze?"

"Okay. Great. Well..." Buffy stared around the room. No more delays. "Great. See you then."

Riley held her hand as they walked through the dark campus to Lowell House. His meaty hand was sweating, and Buffy felt lost in his grip. When had this happened? She used to like his size – his broad shoulders, his chest, his farmboy grin. Now there was something claustrophobic in standing next to him. Buffy looked up at his smug smile and tried to figure out how she'd never noticed how tall he was.

"So," he said, smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling. Buffy realized he thought he'd just caught her checking him out. "Is everything settled at your place?"

Buffy gave an uncomfortable shrug. "We don't know. Faith still doesn't remember anything. I don't know how long she'll be there."

"Well, as long as you don't help her too much," Riley said. "Not that you shouldn't try to help, but don't forget about yourself. School. Patrolling."

"Good." Riley paused and bent down to kiss her. "Because I wouldn't want to lose you. You do so much as it is..."

"Yeah," Buffy said. At least his kiss was beginning to remind her why she'd come to Lowell with him.

As soon as they were in his room, he wrapped his arms around her. Buffy fought the urge to kick herself free. His mouth was rough where he hadn't shaved, his lips eager and sloppy. He tugged her by the hand towards his bed. He knew she was usually happy to go along with him after they'd both patrolled. Buffy kissed him back, trying to find a rhythm with his too-large body. He used his fingers and his mouth, and it felt good – to a point. Buffy rolled him over and got on top, which usually worked for her. She shifted, trying to find the angle that would make everything tip from pretty good to simply amazing. Riley was starting to get desperate, but he was trying to hold back and wait for her. Like a gentleman. Buffy could have cried in frustration. She wanted this. She needed this.

Buffy gasped and came before she knew what was happening, burying her mouth against Riley's collarbone to stop herself from crying out anybody's name. Riley let go a second later. He snuggled up next to her afterwards, murmuring "I love you," into her hair.

Buffy stayed awake in the beefy trap of his arms, thought about Faith, and wondered what the hell was going on.

Faith crept back into Buffy's house. The lights were out. Joyce must have believed Faith was safely asleep. Faith trudged upstairs to the guest bedroom. She turned her back on the watching African masks and skinned out of Buffy's clothes. The sheets were crisp and cool. Faith lay in bed, arms crossed behind her head. She'd spent eight months of her life asleep. After what she'd seen tonight, she didn't think she'd ever sleep again.

She had killed a man. It wasn't all her fault. He'd attacked her, apparently without reason. Maybe he was a criminal, maybe he was a complete wacko. It didn't matter. Faith had stabbed him. She'd watched how Buffy did it, and it looked so easy. When Faith jabbed the branch into the guy's chest, it felt like it was what she had been born to do.

Buffy had said something about that, earlier, in the kitchen with Joyce and Giles. That Faith had a destiny. That she would get off on slaying.

And Buffy did too. Faith didn't question that for a second. She could feel it through the shimmering contact of their bond. She saw Buffy's ragged breathing, that not just the fight could account for. Faith smelled it in the night air. That scent – Buffy's arousal – it was another teasing familiarity. Part of her memory itched to tell her what was going on. The harder she pushed, the further away the memories seemed. Faith felt blocked. Trapped.

She had thought it would be so easy to start fresh. She wanted to be someone new. Not the killer everyone accused her of being. Yet here she was, with blood on her hands. Sort of. Dust, anyway.

And if she could forget the killing for a minute, there was the fact that they guy had disappeared. Turned to dust and blown away. Faith couldn't ignore the freaky stuff anymore. Her sight, scent, hearing, strength – all of them were enhanced. This thing with Buffy. And the magic vanishing dead guy.

The moonlight moved across the artwork on the walls. Faith closed her eyes. All around her were the threads of a mystery. None of them was close enough to touch.

And at the center of it all was Buffy. Faith could feel the ghost of her touch even now. Buffy was lying to her, about so many things, but Faith felt like Buffy didn't want to be. As if there was something larger that she didn't dare reveal. There was so many things behind Buffy's eyes, half-hidden emotions that Faith didn't know what to do with. Somehow, Buffy reached into Faith's heart and triggered feelings that were almost memories. It was all so confusing, but Faith knew – she knew – that when she was watching Buffy fight, she loved what she saw.

When Joyce called her for breakfast, Faith dragged herself out of a restless sleep. She rubbed her eyes and tried to hold on to the fragments of her dream. Something about Buffy...kissing her forehead, and whispering in her ear...

By the time Faith showered and hauled on a fresh set of Buffy's handmedowns, it was already fading. Joyce fixed her with a motherly eye when she slumped into the kitchen and sat at the island.

"How are you feeling today, Faith?" Joyce brought over a pot of coffee and set a mug in front of her. "Black, three sugars, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I should let you remember on your own." Joyce sighed. She set the coffee down and ran a hand through Faith's hair.

"Not that that's working out so great," Faith muttered, trying not to sound too bitter. She took a drink of the coffee, fast enough to scald her tongue. The sugar was definitely a good idea.

"You just need to have a little patience," Joyce said, returning the pot to its place under the percolator. "You've already remembered more than you know." She turned around and leaned on the island opposite Faith, crossing her arms. She met Faith's eyes. "The doctors never expected you to wake up at all," she said. "You've beaten so many odds...if it takes a few days to get your memories back, it's not because they aren't coming."

Faith nodded. She traced a finger over the pattern on the coffee mug. "You really figure, huh?"

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Then why won't you just tell me? Save the middleman or whatever."

Joyce tipped her head. "It's not my place. And, I don't know everything that you would want to know."

"So wait for Buffy to get over herself." Faith made a disgusted noise. "'Cause that's gonna happen sometime in the next century."

"Buffy has been my daughter for nearly nineteen years," Joyce said. "And if there's one thing I can say, it's that it might take a while, but usually, she can and does 'get over herself'." She smiled. "Now, how about breakfast? Today, I've got toast, and there's also...toast."

Faith snickered. "Good choices." She took another gulp of the searing coffee. "Can I help?"

Faith set herself a place. Joyce put the toast in front of her. Faith had just started digging in when the front door opened and closed. A moment later, Buffy walked into the kitchen. She snagged a piece of toast from the toaster and munched it dry.

Faith concentrated on spreading jam on her own slice. Buffy was wearing the same clothes that she was last night in the graveyard. Faith's nostrils twitched. The scent of dust and dry sweat was obviously too faint for Joyce to notice, but for her it was a huge sign screaming that everything that happened last night was real. Buffy had showered – Faith could smell soap, as well, and her hair was shining clean – but the clothes were steeped in last night's fight, last night's lust.

Faith bit into her toast. The awkward silence that started when Buffy came home kept growing. Joyce fiddled with the coffee maker, adding fresh grounds. Buffy stared at Faith whenever she thought Faith wasn't watching, but Faith kept catching her. She looked frightened.

Scared of me, Faith thought. How could Joyce even think that they were going to get back to being 'good friends' or whatever they had been before? Buffy not only been horribly hurt, somehow, by Faith, but now she didn't trust her as far as she could throw her. Although, considering how far Buffy had thrown a few of those thugs last night, maybe it was even less than that.

"Sorry I didn't call," Buffy said, wiping crumbs off her shirt, carefully not meeting either her mom's or Faith's eyes. "I thought you'd be okay. I stayed at Riley's."

"Fine," Buffy mumbled. "So...anyway, I don't have class today, so I thought Faith and I could go shopping. She needs..." Buffy waved a hand at Faith's too-tight t-shirt and too-short pants. "Well. Everything."

"That sounds good. I'll get you some money." Joyce headed out of the room. Faith tensed, wishing she still had the barrier of her presence. Buffy seemed even more tense than she had been last night, if that was possible. But maybe Joyce was right. If they could get past this tension, break the ice...maybe there was potential for so much more between them.

Faith watched Buffy pour some coffee for herself, adding milk and sugar. "Rambo?" she asked.

"I'm guessing my nickname for you, remember?" Faith started jamming another piece of toast. Then, with a malicious smirk, she asked innocently, "Shorty?"

"No!" Buffy's glare cracked, and her lips twitched into a smile. "Where did that one come from?"

Faith held up a hand. "No hints." She paused to consider. "Do I get something when I guess? A reward?"

"I don't think so." Buffy brought her coffee to the island and sat across from Faith. "Nope. That definitely wasn't established in the rules."

"There are rules now?" Faith grinned. "And here I was thinking I was a rebel, the kind who doesn't play by the rules, just a little dangerous..."

Faith looked at the knife. She felt a flash of her dream, of pain and falling. She dropped the knife on her plate with a clatter. Faith shook her head, trying to regain her balance. "Jesus...Buffy –"

Buffy circled the island in a flash. Too fast for any ordinary human to do it, of course, but Faith knew that. She knew that Buffy was a freak. Hell, they both were.

"Dizzy..." Faith squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You were in a coma. Nothing is nothing." Buffy pressed her shoulder. Faith took a deep breath, feeling excitement seep through their contact. The world steadied in her vision. Faith stayed stock still, trying to extend for as long as possible Buffy's touch.

Buffy jumped back from Faith's side. Faith heard the hitch in her breath. "Mom!" she said.

"The one I have just might," Buffy said sweetly. She flinched, then looked at Faith.

"All right. I'll just get changed." Buffy smiled uncertainly at Faith. "You'll be ready?"

As it turned out, shopping with Buffy wasn't as painful as she'd feared. Buffy had conned the use of her mom's Jeep, so the trip to the mall was short. Store after store, bag after bag, Faith's arms filled with clothes that fit. Buffy let her choose whatever she wanted, but Faith stayed away from the slutty clothes. She was going to dress like someone new, anyway, even if the rest of her stayed the same.

Around lunchtime, Faith's growling stomach finally put an end to the shopping spree. Buffy smiled at her.

"Okay, Faith, I get the message. I've just got one more thing to get. Meet me in the food court?"

"Great," Faith said. She was starved. She picked out the sign at the edge of the food court that led to the washrooms. She pushed through some swinging doors with her bags of clothes. Beyond, there was a back service corridor with the washrooms at the end.

As she was coming out, hauling her bags and grumbling about Buffy's shopping stamina, she heard the scrape of feet in the hallway behind her.

Faith turned sharply at the sound of the deep, gravely voice. She was getting used to strangers calling her that. She glanced over her shoulder. The hallway was deserted. Faith peered into the shadows. Someone was standing there – huge, muscle-bound, and...green?

Faith tensed. She shifted position. It was too subtle for most people to notice, but Faith was getting used to this too – sliding into the perfect fighting stance, fists loose and ready, feet balanced, prepared to defend any attack and lash out at the same time. "Yeah?" she asked. "And who would that be, exactly?"

The hulking figure in the shadows backed up a step, an instinctive response to Faith's aggressive pose. Faith could see more of him now. He wasn't just green, he was also covered with scales. Horns rimmed the top of his skull. His mouth was full of sharp teeth, and a forked tongue shot out to wet them before he spoke again. "The boss," he said. "Take it."

He moved, and Faith barely controlled her preemptive strike. A package, tied with brown paper and tape, sailed out of the dark. Without taking her eyes off the monster, Faith snatched it out of the air with her left hand. It was hard and rectangular, with a bulge on one side that rattled when she caught it. "What is it?"

Faith wrenched around, her heart pounding. She didn't want Buffy to know about this. If Buffy was going to keep secrets from her, then Faith sure as hell wasn't going to tell her that guys looking like horny toads were giving her mysterious packages in dark hallways. "Coming," she called. She turned back to the monster, but he was gone. At the end of the hall, the exit door closed with a clang.

Faith backed up slowly, just in case the ugly dude had backup. She slipped the 'gift' into one of her bags filled with clothes, stuffing it underneath two tops and a pair of jeans. With a final look around the corridor, she turned around and joined Buffy back in the food court.

"I was beginning to think you'd fallen in." Buffy reached out a hand for a few of Faith's bags.

"Okay." Buffy snaked her way through the lunch crowd. "Found a table," she said over her shoulder.

Faith followed her. Her mind was more on the monster than on Buffy. She squeezed the handle of the bag that hid the package. Now what? Like she didn't have enough puzzles right now. A gift from 'the boss'. Someone she'd known eight months ago, another forgotten name, forgotten face. Maybe she shouldn't even try to dig up the past. She was bad news back then. She could toss the package in the garbage and never think about it again.

But if she did that, then her only link to the past outside of Buffy would be lost. And Buffy still wasn't talking. Faith frowned at Buffy's back. If Buffy wouldn't tell her what she wanted to know, then she'd have to find another way to get her memory back – and some weirdo had just provided her with an opportunity she'd be stupid to turn down.

If only Buffy had been willing to answer her questions. If only Buffy trusted her. Faith sighed. There were way too many 'if onlys' in her life. She needed the information. She would have to go behind Buffy's back. There was no use feeling guilty about it. As soon as she was alone, she'd open the package.

Buffy led her to one of the tiny tables with the molded-plastic chairs. It was spread with more food than Faith thought they could eat in a week's worth of meals, let alone one lunch. Pulled back from her thoughts, she laughed. "You hungry or something, there, B?"

Faith squinted and thought back over their conversation. "B? That's it? That's the boringest nickname I ever heard." She shook her head. "You got that annoyed that I called you by your initial?"

"Well..." Buffy's face scrunched up uncertainly. Faith snickered. Buffy would probably whack her if she told her how cute she looked. "It was the way you said it."

"Uh-huh. Right. Well, I'll stick to Buffy if you want." Faith bit into her burger.

Buffy blushed and smiled down at her own hamburger. Faith could hardly believe a simple nickname would affect her like that. Buffy's blush was absolutely adorable.

And where did she think she was going with thoughts like that? For one, Buffy had a boyfriend. She spent the night with him – it must be pretty hot and heavy. And besides that, they were not friends. Buffy didn't trust her. Faith was going to do an end-run around her and figure out what she wanted to know. She had the ability – and, apparently, she still had friends from before the coma. Mr. Green And Scaly might not be her first choice for a bosom buddy, but if he was going to tell her the truth, he had to be better than Buffy...

Buffy pushed the remains of her hamburger aside. Faith realized she'd finished four while she was thinking. Obviously Buffy knew how much lunch to buy, after all.

Buffy crumpled her garbage together and sat looking at the table for a minute. Faith could feel her nervousness. Her heart sped up, her hands felt cold. She dropped the last bite of her final burger. Buffy wanted to tell her something, but she didn't know how.

"I got something for you," Buffy said. She smiled, like a sunrise, and Faith couldn't help but smile back. "Here."

Buffy slid a small black velvet box across the table. Jewelry? Faith held her breath. "What – ?"

Faith bit her lip. Slowly, she lifted the box and clicked it open. On the silk bottom there lay a necklace with a silver cross hanging from it. Faith pulled it out of the box. "It's beautiful...but..."

"Here – let me put it on." Buffy leapt up and moved behind Faith. Faith felt her body warm as Buffy stood behind her. Obediently, she brushed her hair out of the way and gave the necklace to Buffy.

Buffy's fingers skimming over her neck made Faith shiver. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She couldn't believe how much she was enjoying such a small touch. The necklace quickly warmed at the touch of her skin. Buffy fixed the clasp, then smoothed Faith's hair over it. Faith touched a finger to the cross. It fit in the hollow of her throat, just where her collarbones met. Buffy stood behind her for a moment longer before she abruptly moved back to her seat.

"No, it's, um...important," Buffy said. "I just – I wanted to –" She blushed. "Um, I wanted to get you something. Because, I'm sorry we've all been so..."

"Yeah." Faith felt her cheeks warm. Obviously the necklace wasn't just an apology. There was more to it than that. If Buffy didn't want to say...

Well, there was always the package. What Buffy didn't know about wouldn't hurt her.

"Okay. Well, I have a lot of homework to do, so we can go home...you can hang out, watch movies, whatever, while I work. Then, tonight, I told Willow I'd meet her at the Bronze. It's a club. She's bringing a friend, and I thought maybe you'd want to go." Buffy hesitated, then added, "You love the Bronze."

The ride home was quiet. Faith kept one hand on the bag that held her package. After Buffy pointed her to the living room and went upstairs to work, Faith took it out. The brown paper tore away easily. Inside, there was a video tape and a little metal gadget. It looked like a pair of scissors that someone had melted down and deformed, with too many finger-loops and a weird crystal thing in its center. She fiddled with it, finding a way for it to fit over her left hand. The crystal bit went in the center of her palm, the loops around her fingers and thumb. Faith glanced towards the stairs, then put the video in Buffy's VCR. She turned on the television on with the volume down low.

On the screen, there appeared a friendly looking guy sitting behind a desk. The nameplate said "Mayor Richard Wilkins III."

Wilkins. This was her guardian. The man Nurse Owens had told her was dead. Faith leaned towards the television. She wanted to cry. This was the man who should have come for her when she woke up. He obviously didn't hate her. She tried to make sense of what he was saying, but mostly, she watched his eyes. Friendly. Believing in her.

Wilkins stepped out from behind the desk. "Now, Faith," he said, "As I record this message you're, uh...sleeping. And the doctors tell me that you might never wake up. I don't believe that. Sooner or later, you will wake up and when you do, you'll find the world has gone and changed on you."

"No shit," Faith breathed. She stared at the gizmo on her hand. This was supposed to make the world a better place for her?

Funny how she didn't really trust the messenger. Too many weird things had happened in the last two days. The green monster in the hallway had raised her hackles. Last night in the cemetery she'd had the same feeling. All her inner voices were urging her to kill him, screaming that he was the enemy. Buffy might not be truthful, but at least she didn't set Faith's interior alarm off. Faith wanted to trust her.

Anyway, what could this stupid doohickey do? Change the world? Yeah, right. She didn't even know what to do with it.

"And, hey, just because it's over for my Faith, doesn't mean she can't go out with a bang!" On screen, Wilkins chuckled. The scene faded. Faith sighed and started to take off the thing on her hand.

Buffy shook her head, unable to speak. Her green eyes filled with tears. "You –" she whispered. "You're still with him."

Rage filled Buffy's face. "I can't – I believed you didn't remember – and you were laughing at us, you played me –"

"A little parting gift from the Mayor? That's nothing?" Buffy's fists clenched. Without realizing what she was doing, Faith mirrored her, until they were staring at each other in the living room, both quivering on the edge of violence. "You bitch."

"You're so full of bullshit, Buffy!" Faith said. "You're a killer way more than I am! I saw you last night! Don't tell me that four guys disappearing is a regular night for you!"

"You didn't tell me anything! If this mayor guy will answer a few questions then I'm sure as hell going to listen –"

"What?" Faith took a step back. "No!" She'd beaten Buffy in the hospital...tossed her into a wall. She could do it again.

Buffy lunged for her. Faith tried to get out of the way, find a place to stand where she could pivot cleanly and send Buffy flying. Buffy was too fast. She grabbed Faith's hand to wrench the device away from her, and –

And there was a burst of light. Faith tried to gasp and couldn't breathe. She didn't have lungs. She didn't have a body. She was flying, dying, falling – just like all her dreams.

Buffy stared into her own face. She blinked, and her reflection blinked too, eyes wide with horror. "What...?" She couldn't finish the question. It was all too clear. Magic. Faith had lulled her into a false sense of security. Amnesia? Yeah, right. She should have known better than to think Faith would ever get over her hatred. Faith had always been jealous. She was still trying to steal Buffy's life. This time, literally.

Buffy yanked her hand back. It was the little device of the Mayor's that had done it. She grabbed Faith's wrist – that now looked exactly like her wrist – not bothering to hide her Slayer strength. She ripped the gadget off Faith's hand. She wanted to crush it out of existence. Just when she thought she could trust Faith again – just when she was almost ready to start over again – just when she had felt that there might be something between them...

Buffy glanced up, startled. Even the voice was hers. How much damage had the spell done? Faith's face – her face – was white with shock. She looked terrified. She backed up a step, then another, as if Buffy was the monster here.

"I didn't do anything, Faith. Maybe next time you should read the instructions before you try to kill me!" Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth. Where the hell had that voice come from? Deep, husky, rough...almost a growl. She stared at her hand squeezing Faith's wrist. The skin was pale but still darker than it should be. Thin blue lines of veins showed beneath not enough flesh. The fingers were too long, gripping Faith's wrist tight enough to turn the knuckles white. Buffy could feel the hand, but it wasn't hers. She dropped Faith's arm like it was on fire.

"Oh, no. No. Tell me you didn't –" Buffy stopped talking in the voice that wasn't hers and settled for shaking her head mutely. She turned and ran for the bathroom. She slammed the door open and flicked on the light.

Faith gaped at her from the mirror. Her jaw hung open, anger and denial written on her features, her eyes dangerous and dark. Her mouth was forming the word "No" over and over again, but not making a sound. Buffy lifted her hands to touch her face...and the mirror-Faith copied her exactly. It was her reflection. Faith had switched their bodies.

Buffy started when her own face appeared in the mirror behind her. She whirled around, hands automatically curling into fists. "Undo it, Faith!"

Faith stared at her, then over her shoulder to the mirror. "You have got to be shitting me."

Buffy flinched away from hearing Faith's words in her voice. What had Faith done? How could she? And would they ever be able to undo it? Buffy pushed the fear down. "Whatever you did –" She held up the little twist of metal and crystal. She shoved it into Faith's chest, letting it drop between them. " – it's not going to work. Giles will figure it out – or Willow –" Buffy could hear her voice getting even rougher, desperation creeping into her tone, but she just pushed forward, shouldering Faith out of the bathroom. "I beat you once, and I'll do it again, I swear, if you don't fix this –"

Faith's eyes were getting wider and wider. Cords stood out in her neck. Muscles knotted in her shoulders, where her tank top left them bare. She coiled like a spring. When Buffy ran out of words to throw in her face, Faith exploded.

"Fuck you!" She launched herself at Buffy, slamming her face with an elbow and kicking her legs out from under her. Buffy felt her breath whoosh out of her as she hit the floor. Pain cracked the back of her head, flaring red and black across her vision. Buffy didn't even have time to gasp. Faith threw herself down on top of her. "Don't tell me what I did, don't fucking tell me what I'm like, I don't know, don't you fucking get it? I – don't – know!"

Buffy tried to get her knee between her body and Faith's. Faith fought like a wildcat. She wrestled Buffy to the ground. She didn't fight like the Slayer. There was nothing calculated or controlled in her assault. She punched randomly, not using the strength Buffy knew she had. She lashed out without a thought or a plan. Her face twisted. She looked crazy – psycho –

Seeing that look on her own face frightened Buffy more than the useless attack. She knew it was Faith, but those were her eyes, green and wide, her blonde hair streaming over her shoulders, her body struggling to pin Buffy down. Faith was crying like she didn't even know it was happening. Angry tears streamed down her face. She fought to control Buffy's arms, slapping them aside and trying to grip her wrists.

Buffy froze. Faith's words finally penetrated her anger. She could hear Faith's confusion, her desperation. Faith didn't know what was going on any more than Buffy did. She wasn't fighting for the sake of their grudges, but because Buffy had pushed her too hard – demanded too much. Buffy felt a lump settle in her throat, hard and painful. She'd let her suspicion take over and jumped to conclusions. No wonder Faith had attacked her. Buffy was lucky it hadn't happened sooner. With all the evasions and half-truths she'd tried to feed Faith, what could she expect?

Buffy had to turn this fight around. She twisted her arms inside Faith's and grabbed her forearms. Faith reared back. She wasn't fighting like a Slayer. She didn't really know what she was doing. Buffy did. With a sudden roll, she was on top, controlling Faith's kicks by wrapping their legs together. She panted, suddenly realizing how close their bodies were twined around each other. She could hardly tell which limbs were hers and which belonged to Faith.

"Stop...Faith...listen..." Buffy tried to sound reassuring, but Faith's voice just wasn't built for it. The words came out sounding almost seductive, both rough and soft, like broken velvet.

Faith stiffened in Buffy's hold. Buffy relaxed a fraction. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Buffy whispered the apology, over and over. It felt incredibly good to say. She'd been holding the words back for so long that she'd been ready to explode if she didn't let them out. The truth, finally, the truth. "It's not your fault, I'm sorry..."

"What are you doing to me?" Faith's question was an incredulous murmur that Buffy only caught because of her Slayer hearing. Did she really sound like that? Was her voice so...whining, almost pleading? Or was that just Faith?

"I'm going to let you up," she said. In Faith's voice, it sounded like a threat. "Please, Faith. Just...I'll explain. I promise."

Buffy backed off. It hurt to let Faith go. She hadn't allowed herself to feel their mutual Slayer tinglies at first. She couldn't trust herself to accept the warmth of them. Faith had called her on it in the hospital, and later, there had been the casual touches that came from living near each other. Buffy wouldn't let herself feel them. Not after last night. In the shower...Oh, God, she couldn't let Faith know what she did to her. Laying on top of Faith, Buffy felt the pleasure rush over her in a sudden wave. She had missed this...well, not this, but...training with Faith. Being able to touch her. In sparring sessions, and that sort of thing. Not like... Buffy shook her head to shut up her internal babble. She released Faith, hoping that she could control the face that wasn't hers. She had to hide what she felt.

She kept hold of Faith's hand, holding the Mayor's toy in the other. How could that bastard still cause so much trouble even after she'd blown him to boot leather? She'd have to keep the device to see if Willow or Giles could use it to reverse the spell. She wasn't about to go experimenting. Willow's accidental run-in with her vamp-twin had taught her that much.

Faith stood up slowly and glared at her. She shook her hand free, rejecting whatever Buffy had been offering her...not that Buffy knew what that was, herself. Comfort? Support? Something. Buffy wanted to cringe. Faith's expression on her face was so cold. The green eyes were like ice. No wonder people gave way before Buffy's anger. She never knew she could look so...forbidding.

Buffy bit her lip. How was she supposed to start? The truth was way more difficult than it seemed at first, more complicated. She and Faith had always had an instinctive understanding. Even when they were enemies, they knew what the other one intended more often than not. It was what had made them such an amazing team. It was what had made that last fight on the rooftop so surprising. Buffy never would have thought Faith would jump...she never thought she could have stabbed Faith.

"In every generation a Slayer is born," she said. The words sounded wrong in Faith's voice, full of sarcasm. But maybe Giles' way was the best, after all.

"I know that much," Faith said, rolling her eyes. "So what the hell does it mean?"

"I listened to you talking to Joyce and Giles. I followed you last night...the guy that got away from you called me that. And the ugly dude who gave me that thing." Faith waved at the gadget Buffy was holding.

"You must have slayed him, since you're...well, alive." Buffy's heart constricted at the thought of Faith facing a vamp without even knowing what he was. Faith was staring at her in disbelief. Buffy realized she'd have to explain. "You shoved a stake in his heart and he turned to dust, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Faith said softly. "I killed him. So there you go. I just can't seem to shake the evil thing." She glanced up at Buffy, green eyes glimmering through the sooty fall of eyelashes. "I am a murderer."

"No! Faith, that's not...you're not evil." Buffy took a step towards her, but Faith flinched back. It was so weird, seeing fear on her own face...seeing how small and vulnerable her own body looked. And how did she look to Faith? The body she wore was overpowering at the best of times, brash and confident. She didn't know how to be herself in it. She shied away from Faith, trying not to overwhelm her. "He was a vampire. Like, fangs and bloodsucking and demony. Vampires are real. We are vampire slayers. We protect people. We're not evil. We're the heroes."

"Yeah. Right." Faith looked away. "I thought you were gonna be straight with me, B. For once."

"Listen, Faith, I know you've felt it," she said. She rubbed her hands together and started pacing, staring down at her arms, her legs...her chest. She blushed and tried to focus on the conversation. "Your hearing, your eyesight...all our senses are enhanced. And you're stronger than you know. And if you dusted that vampire, you must remember how to fight. It's an instinct, you can't not slay, I know. I didn't want to, for years, but even when I ran away from it I couldn't stop...it's too –"

Buffy tried to laugh, smoothing down the tiny hairs on her arms that stood up at attention when she talked about the slaying. Faith's body was so responsive. Did she feel this much all the time? No wonder she'd always needed one night stands to calm down. "It's destiny," she said, in that dark-as-smoke voice that made everything sound like a come-on.

"I know. I just thought...never mind." Buffy frowned. "Magic's real too, and that's what I think this is. A body switching spell."

"I barely got used to that body, and now we're stuck like this?" Faith asked. She flicked her fingers as if she didn't expect them to move the way she wanted. "No offense. I mean, you're hot and all, but I just think I'd rather be me...even a me I don't remember."

Buffy closed her eyes and cursed herself for blurting out that particular question. Especially after last night with Riley. Back up, don't think about it, that is so not the point of this conversation.

Fortunately, Faith wasn't making an issue of it. Still staring down at herself, she asked, "Are we gonna be able to switch back?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anything about it. Except the Mayor had something to do with it."

"Fuck." Faith slid down to sit on the couch, staring at the dark screen. "That's what I did, isn't it? I helped him. I was evil."

Buffy circled the couch and sat beside her. Holding her breath, she dared to place a hand on Faith's back, staring at the cornsilk hair that should be hers. "You made a mistake."

Faith shrugged – not to push Buffy's hand away, but as if to say that there was no real difference.

"You saved me, in the end, when I had to fight him," Buffy said, stroking her hand down Faith's back. "I never got to thank you for that."

Faith leaned back, trapping Buffy's hand between her back and the couch. "Is that how I really got hurt? Because I know it was no car accident."

Buffy felt her blood turn to ice. "No," she said, surprised that she was able to get the word out without choking. Automatically, she glanced at Faith's stomach. Of course the scar wasn't there. It was on her body now. She slid her free hand under her t-shirt, over her flat stomach, feeling the rough ridge of tissue running in a ragged line just below her ribs. She shuddered as her body interpreted the touch way differently than she'd meant it. God, she couldn't control herself. She wanted to feel so much more. The Slayer connection wasn't confused by the body switch. She could feel it through her hand on Faith's back, and where their thighs were pressed together. Buffy bit back a sigh.

"I have this dream..." Faith said slowly, watching Buffy carefully. "Where I'm being hunted. Where I'm killed. It's the same knife, every time, except I can't see who's holding it." Faith's eyes dropped to Buffy's hand. Buffy jerked it away from the scar. "It was you, wasn't it."

It wasn't a question. Buffy stood up. She yanked free of Faith. If only her confusion could be shaken away that easily. This body reminded her too much of her past mistakes. She couldn't act right, couldn't think right, couldn't even look at herself or at Faith. There was so much that was wrong with the whole situation. Faith was being way too calm, for one. Buffy thought as soon as Faith knew that she was the reason Faith had lost eight months of her life, that she'd attack, go crazy, whatever. How could Faith just look at her like that? Sitting there, studying her, and using her expressions to do it with!

Buffy felt like she'd lost herself. Like there was nothing left to hang on to in her life, no place for her to stand and be herself.

This must be what it's like for Faith, she thought, not remembering anything. God, how selfish can you get? She's way worse off than you right now.

But she couldn't force herself to go back to the couch. Why did Faith have to come back? Things were good now. Faith only brought back emotions Buffy thought she'd forgotten. "We have to find a way to switch back," she said. She ignored Faith's accusation. They both knew it was true. She was more eager to get her body back than to dig into that history.

"No kidding. And you have a plan to do that how?" Faith tipped her head back on the couch, pouting.

Buffy smiled at the sight. Faith used to tease her endlessly about that pout. Seeing her do it made it...cuter.

Faith cocked an eyebrow at her, and Buffy realized she'd been staring. She ducked her head to hide her blush. "God, this is such a wig," she said. "Seeing you like that."

"Feeling's mutual." Faith held her hands out, staring at them. "What the hell do we do now? Just say abracadabra and hope something works?"

"No – Willow's a witch. We have to tell her what happened. We'll give her the thingy to look at." Buffy winced. "She isn't going to be too happy about this. But Giles would be worse. When he's mad he makes this clicky sound in his throat..." She sighed and checked her watch, then realized it was on Faith's wrist now, not hers. She leaned over the couch and took Faith's arm. Faith raised her eyebrows and Buffy stepped back quickly, embarrassed. "We can go now. We might be early."

Faith was starting to grin. It was a strange expression on Buffy's face – it looked almost as dangerous as when she had her own body. "You're telling me that magic is real. Your best friend's a magician –"

"Whatever. And you...we are, like...hot chicks with superpowers. We can't go like this!" Faith waved at their clothes. "Come on, B, find the fun a little. After Willow waves her wand, you're never gonna get a chance like this again...to be someone else for a while, right?"

"So let's do this right." Faith grabbed her bags of new clothes. She started up the stairs to Buffy's bedroom. She turned back when Buffy didn't follow her. She waggled her eyebrows, leering a little. "Don't tell me you don't want to find out what my body is capable of."

Heat washed through Buffy at Faith's words. She fought to keep control of her breathing. This was not happening. "You are not going to test drive my body, Faith!"

"We'll see about that," Faith said. "I'm gonna make you look so sexy..." She disappeared up the stairs.

Buffy glanced down at Faith's body. She'd never been so...that is, there was so much...Oh, hell. She ran her hands down her sides, over the soft cotton of the t-shirt. She shivered. Lightly, she trailed her fingers over the skin of her sides. Her stomach dipped in, the muscles quivering under her hands. She stroked her thighs, feeling the taut strength of her legs beneath the denim. She slid her hands upwards, ignoring her brain screaming that this was so very, very wrong. She palmed her breasts, feeling the soft, heavy weight of them. God, that was good. Her nipples hardened, and she wondered what they looked like beneath the shirt. Darker than hers, she imagined, and a bit larger, and...fuck. Faith was right. She did want to know exactly what this body could do.

And that thought was even weirder. She wanted...Faith. She wanted to – to touch her, like this, to give Faith the pleasure she was feeling now.

No. No. She couldn't be thinking that. Faith would regain her memories soon...already she was acting more and more like her old self. "Find the fun"? Not a good idea, not now. When Faith remembered – for real – she wasn't going to want to hang around Sunnydale longer than it took to get her revenge. Buffy couldn't want Faith...because all Faith would want was to run.

And what about Riley? Buffy jerked her mind away from the thought of him. Things hadn't been going well with him in a long time. It took Faith's awakening to remind her of why. He couldn't even get her off last night. Right now, looking at Faith's body in her own hands, she was closer than she'd been then...

What was Willow going to think when they showed up at the Bronze like this? Buffy had agreed to meet Tara. Showing up in Faith's body, and dragging Faith along in hers, was not the way the evening was supposed to go. Poor Willow. Every time Buffy tried to have best-friend time with her, something Hellmouthy had to happen to wreck it. Would Willow even be willing to help them fix this?

Would she even know how? Buffy bit her lip and forced herself not to think about what her life would be like if she was stuck like this forever. It couldn't happen. There had to be a reversal spell. Focus on that.

Oh, right. It was just that simple. And what was Faith doing with her body right now? If her own actions were anything to judge by, then Buffy really didn't want to be dwelling on that question either.

There were times when, no matter how much you shook your head and said "What the fuck?", the situation still stubbornly refused to make sense.

Faith figured this was one of those times. She'd ignored Buffy's knock on the door and showered anyway. She half expected that she'd be able to rinse away Buffy's tawny-gold tan along with the soap, and get out of the shower wearing her own body again. This was freakier than waking up in the hospital. At least then she didn't know what she was supposed to look like. Two showers in two days and each time she'd discovered a new body.

Faith wrapped herself in a towel. Over her shoulder, she caught sight of herself in the half-steamed mirror. It was like a stranger had walked in on her in the bathroom. She glared at her reflection. She closed one eye, then the other. She squinted. Grimaced. Stuck her tongue out. She turned away, then whirled back, trying to catch her reflection not paying attention.

Faith tilted her head, to one side, then the other. She met her own eyes. Except they weren't hers. They were Buffy's.

Buffy really was beautiful. Her skin glowed, washed clean, like spring time. The heart-shaped face stared solemnly at Faith, lips a little pouty, eyes a little hurt, a little worried. Her body looked so fragile, but Faith knew there was steel in the wiry muscles over the slender bones. She was strong. She was –

Some kind of superhero? Like, wearing spandex and living in the bat cave? That was worse than the spy idea Faith had imagined at first.

One part of her brain flatly refused to believe it. That sort of stuff wasn't real, for fuck's sake. It was another lie, some stupid attempt to mess with her head. The whole body-switch thing was pretty convincing, though, unless she and Buffy were somehow sharing a hallucination.

Besides, another part of her understood that what Buffy had told her was all there was. The truth. What she lived for. Destiny.

Slaying that...vampire...last night. The hot rush of yeah baby this is it, do it, yes...

Faith dropped her eyes. The image in the mirror seemed to know too much. Faith opened the door. Buffy was leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, waiting. She rolled her eyes at Faith's towel.

"This isn't a game, Faith," she said, exasperation turning husky in her throat. "This is serious. This is –"

Faith held her towel closed with one hand and slowly pointed from Buffy to the bathroom with the other. "You. Shower. Gettin' all wet and hot and, quite possibly, soapy –"

"Okay, okay, enough." Buffy was turning an interesting shade of red. "I don't want to – I mean, I'm not going to –"

"Uh-huh." Faith didn't stay to hear the denials. "I'm gonna check out the wardrobe sitch."

She headed for Buffy's room, and grinned when she heard the bathroom door click shut quietly. The water started running a second later. Faith picked through Buffy's closet. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but the red leather pants seemed to almost leap into her hands. Faith held them up to her waist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. There was a clingy black top that went with them. She didn't know how she knew that. She pulled them on. She couldn't stop running her hands over the cool smoothness of the leather, watching the way her body moved.

Her dream images flashed in her mind. This time, she knew the hand on the knife was Buffy's.

Just a quick impression, of heat and the pressure of another body against hers, like when Buffy had rolled on top of her in the hallway. Then, cold, and air rushing past her, and the ozone scent of lightning. Raindrops flung against her skin until she was chilled and soaked through, and unable to move. She was broken.

It wasn't enough. She still had no idea why. Buffy was willing to give her answers now. Faith had to know the rest of the story, to know what it meant.

The water cut off in the bathroom. Faith couldn't help but smile. Buffy had taken the world's fastest shower. Faith didn't know which of them Buffy was trying to convince that she wasn't at all interested in Faith's body, but it sure as hell wasn't working.

That was another part of her memory Faith desperately wanted to regain. What had she felt for Buffy, before? Right now, she had so many different feelings, she didn't know what to think. While they were shopping this afternoon, Buffy had been friendly, open, bright, sparkling. It was a far cry from the cold anger when she'd first seen Faith in the hospital, or the furious joy of her fight against the vampires last night. There was something fascinating about every mood, every side of her. And the fact that Buffy couldn't keep her eyes off her...er...herself, now...well, that was pretty flattering.

Of course, there was the boyfriend, Whatshisname. On the other hand, Buffy hadn't mentioned him all day. So maybe it wasn't serious...

Faith ran a hand through her half-dry hair. She was not going start something with Buffy. How dumb would that be? She didn't even know how Buffy really felt about her, beyond getting that low-down tickle out of seeing her. Faith didn't even know how she really felt, for that matter. What if she hated Buffy for some reason she couldn't remember right now?

"Okay. I'm ready." Buffy appeared at the door, dressed in Faith's new clothes, tight black jeans and a cleavage-baring blouse, the most daring thing Faith had chosen at the store. She froze when she saw Faith, dark eyes going wide.

Buffy made an effort and smiled. "Right." She took one last look at Faith's outfit and turned away.

Faith followed her downstairs. They grabbed their jackets and headed out of the house. Buffy locked the door and then, with a pained look, took a sharpened bit of wood out of her pocket and handed it to Faith.

Faith stared at it – it looked like it might've once been a table leg – and then eyed Buffy. "What's this?"

"A stake." Buffy took another one out of her pocket and jabbed it at the air in front of her, demonstrating. "You're a Slayer. And Sunnydale's dangerous at night. It's built on the mouth of Hell."

"Oh. I shoulda figured." Faith curled her fingers around the stake, as naturally as breathing. Oh yeah. This was right. Another bone-deep memory that surfaced as soon as she felt the smooth-whittled wood against her palm. She squeezed the stake, then, with a reluctant sigh, tucked it into her jacket's inner pocket. "So, you figure Willow's going to be mad about this?"

"I wouldn't blame her." Buffy kicked at a rock in the road, sending it flying. They both winced when there was a sound of glass breaking from halfway down the block. Buffy glanced over her shoulder, meeting Faith's eyes. "I'm supposed to be meeting her girlfriend. It's a big."

"Tara. Another witch, I guess." Buffy hugged herself briefly, and Faith found herself thinking about wrapping her arms around her to keep her warm. Not gonna happen.

"How do you feel about that?" she asked instead, watching the passing houses. How did Buffy feel about girls having girlfriends in general?

Buffy shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith tried to see how Buffy felt wearing a different body than she was used to. Curvier. Taller, by an inch or three, and even more with the thick, chunky boots she wore. Buffy wasn't giving anything away, but she was trying to hide herself, as if she could somehow escape notice. It didn't work. Faith's body had...presence. Look at me. Here I am. Yet, somehow, Buffy wasn't awkward with it. She had enough pride to carry it off.

"Willow's been so upset since Oz left," she said. "And...this is new. I don't know. I'm sure Tara's wonderful, I mean...it's just different."

Faith nodded. They were walking through Sunnydale's main drag, heading for the run-down buildings nearer the docks. It didn't take long to get anywhere in a place as small as this. Buffy led the way past a few warehouses and down a crowded back alley to the doors of the Bronze. Faith followed her past the short line, into the club.

Buffy spotted Willow sitting on the couches in the back. She grinned and headed over. Willow looked up as she approached. The soft smile she'd been directing at Tara fell away. She narrowed her eyes at Buffy.

Buffy didn't notice the sudden change. She took a seat opposite the two witches. "Will, hey!"

Willow ignored her. She made a 'you brought her?' face at Faith and said, "Buffy, can I talk to you for a second?" Pause. Glare at Buffy. "Alone?" She grabbed Faith's elbow and wheeled her around, guiding her towards the bar. "We'll get drinks!" she called over her shoulder.

Over her shoulder, Faith saw Buffy's cheerfulness turned to stunned hurt. She heard the beginning of Buffy's explanation to Tara, then Willow dragged her far enough away that she couldn't hear what they were saying over the music and shouted conversations. Faith opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. "Willow –" she started, but Willow interrupted.

"Buffy, how could you?" Willow was staring over her shoulder at Tara and Buffy. "Okay, that's all I wanted to say, like, this is a bad idea, but I shouldn't leave them alone. Do you think Faith will say something stupid? She'll probably hurt Tara's feelings. I'm going back over there."

"Jeez, Willow, you don't have much confidence in me, do ya?" Faith rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna insult your girl. I have these 'Pot, meet Kettle,' issues about it."

Faith sighed. "I'm not Buffy. I'm Faith. It was an accident. Magical fuckup, body switch...it's not a pretty story."

"About the slayer thing? The cat kinda clawed its way out of the bag after the shiny lights decided I should take a vacation in Buffy's body." Faith crossed her arms at Willow's utter bewilderment. "Didn't exactly mean to tell you like this. Sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Willow sputtered for a second, then got her glare under control again. "You're trying to – well, I don't know what your evil, skanky plan is this time, but I know you aren't going to get away with it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you hate my guts, and of course it's all my fault." Faith headed for the bar. "You might want to go explain to B why you gave her the cold shoulder there. Talk about saying something stupid." She shook her head. "I'll get drinks."

Faith didn't wait to see what Willow's answer would be. She ordered four Cokes from the bartender and paid with her leftover lunch money. She didn't really want to go back to the couches. She watched the dancefloor. They did have some pretty good music here. It would be great to stop thinking for a while and just move to the beat. When the bartender handed her the Cokes and her change, though, she headed back. Fresh start, and all that. Whatever.

Buffy and Willow were staring at each other in silence. Tara looked like she wished she could disappear. She was hunched over as much as possible, hiding behind the veil of her hair.

Faith put the glasses down on the table, then deliberately sat right next to Tara. "Hi," she said, in Buffy's bubbly, enthusiastic voice. "I'm Faith. I guess I used to be evil and kill things, but I don't remember any of that – now I hear I'm supposed to kill things, but only the undead kind. If I seem confused, it's 'cause I'm not really myself today."

Willow looked like she was about to explode. Buffy was pouting at all of them, refusing to get involved. Faith nodded airily. "That's great. You look cute together."

"Th-thanks." Tara uncurled a bit, and brushed her hair back. Her smile was gentle and warm, silently grateful that Faith was going to shove conversation at them whether they wanted it or not.

There was another pause. Faith took a swig of her Coke. No one else had touched theirs. She caught Buffy watching her, but Buffy looked away as soon as their eyes met. Faith clenched her teeth and turned back to Tara.

"So, you're a witch? That's amazing. I didn't even know magic existed until...well, this whole thing." She pointed at Buffy and herself.

"Um, yeah. My – my mom taught me a lot. And, practicing with Willow. Sh-she's very p-powerful." Tara's smile turned warm and loving. Willow couldn't keep up her glare. She smiled back at Tara, like a lovesick puppy.

Faith shifted uncomfortably. It didn't look likely that she'd ever have anything so obviously right, so sweet. "Yeah? Willow's got the big mojo? But if you've been learning since you were a kid..."

"Oh, I do d-different things." Tara's stutter faded as she got involved in her subject. She had some confidence, it was just buried beneath the shyness. Willow's hand, clasped in hers on her lap, seemed to help, too.

"She's wonderful," Willow said, thawing a bit as long as they were discussing her girlfriend. "She's incredibly intuitive, she can read auras, all sorts of stuff." She smiled as Tara blushed and ducked her head again. "And she's modest."

"Aw, sweetie. Trust me. You're amazing." Willow dipped forward and kissed Tara, a quick peck on the lips.

"Cool." Faith glanced at Buffy again. Buffy was trying not to stare at Willow and Tara acting all cutesy. She had a weird look on her face, sort of surprised, but curious at the same time. "So could you read my aura?"

"It's not like you're an open book, Faith," Buffy said. "Maybe it takes more than just looking at you."

Faith shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm into learning more about myself." She eyed Buffy. "Can't think why that'd be."

"Hmm," Tara agreed. She turned to face Faith fully. Her blue eyes unfocused slightly. For a moment, she didn't move, and then she tilted her head and frowned. She peered more closely, while Faith tensed under her stare.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, leaning forward, wavy dark hair falling around her shoulders.

"I-I'm n-not sure." Tara shook her head and sat back. Willow caught her hand again, urging Tara to lean into her shoulder. "It's like you have this fractured energy...like something's been, uh, pushed in where it doesn't belong."

"You mean, like, because she's in my body?" Buffy asked. "Do I have the same thing?"

Tara frowned in concentration. She focused on Buffy for a long moment, then sighed and relaxed. "No. I can see the...fault lines...where your soul and Faith's are...mingled. But it's not b-broken, like hers is."

"This is just great." Faith crumpled her empty plastic cup and threw it on the table. She tried not to show the fear Tara's words sparked. Broken? Like dreams of knives and rain and dying... She shook her head. "Like I didn't have enough problems."

"Maybe not," Willow said. "I mean, not like I want you to have more problems, but, they could all be connected. The coma, and the amnesia...No one ever asked what caused it, did they? You should have healed way faster than eight months, you're a slayer. So maybe it was something else...like, the same thing that's messing with your aura." She smiled triumphantly. "See?"

Buffy got up and started pacing. "But that doesn't tell us how to fix it," she said. "And, I'd really like to get back to my body, too. Can you guys help with that?"

"Your parents have a weird sense of humor, then," Faith said, grinning. At least there was a chance that this could get better. The thought got her charged up, ready for action. She'd gotten used to the feeling, sort of. She was beginning to recognize it as a slayer thing.

Faith forced herself not to get too defensive. Would Willow never get over whatever their history was? "What?"

"I'm still not sure about you, you know. You did try to kill me." Willow sighed. "But, you haven't done anything evil recently, so I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt."

Faith's heart stopped. She stared at Buffy. Buffy looked back, eyes dark and sad. "Faith –"

Faith cut her off with a gesture. "I tried to kill you?" she asked Willow. No wonder, she thought, no wonder they hate me.

"No..." Faith backed up, holding her hands up defensively. "I thought...I mean, I know I was on the wrong side..." She shook her head. Buffy reached out a hand to her and Faith slapped it aside. "You promised you were telling the truth."

"I did! Just...not all of it...yet." Buffy's muscles were taut. She held her hands open with an effort. "Faith, I didn't want you to feel –"

"You didn't want me to feel what? Like a murderer? I know you called me that. How many people did I kill – real people, not your stupid vampires?"

Buffy shared a glance with Willow. She slumped a bit, her shoulders dropping. "Two," she said. "But one was an accident..."

"Right. An accident. Well, that's okay then, no problem, I'll just forget all about it...oh, wait, I already did!" Faith knew she was ranting, but she couldn't stop. Tara was watching her with eyes as old as the world, and Faith couldn't take the understanding she saw there. It was too much like pity. "Some superhero," she said, and pushed past them, heading for the door.

She headed out into the back alley, brushing past the bouncer and the gang of muscle-bound college types waiting in line.

"Buffy!" called a voice behind her. Faith kept going, not wanting to run into any of Buffy's little friends while she looked like this. Footsteps ran after her, and Faith resisted the urge to turn around fighting.

Faith shrugged angrily. Storming out dramatically was difficult when people followed you. This guy was half-familiar. Tall, all-American, open farmboy face – oh, yeah, Buffy's boyfriend. Whatshisname. Riley, that was it.

"What's wrong, Buffy?" He gave her a concerned frown. Behind him were two other dudes from the line outside the Bronze, all of them looking like athletic models, with the ramrod-straight posture of soldier-boys.

"Nothing," she muttered, easily pulling out of his grasp. He was the last person she wanted to explain the whole body switch thing to. She wanted to get away from people for a while. She could deal with this if she could just get some time to herself. Then she'd go back, say sorry to Buffy for wigging. She'd known she was evil. That had been clear from the first. It was just...two people. Dead because of her.

Faith was so busy hating herself, she didn't notice Riley leaning in. He was kissing her before she had a clue, meaty tongue thrusting between her lips, beefcake arms holding her gently.

"Fuck off!" Faith shoved back, using more strength than she'd meant to. Riley went flying back into his friends' arms, and nearly knocked them all down like bowling pins. The shorter, compact one checked to make sure Riley was okay, while the taller black guy stepped forward threateningly.

"Forrest! Back off," Riley said, his voice cracking out the command sharply. "Go on without me."

"Go on, Graham, get out of here." Riley waved them away. He turned back to Faith before his two buddies followed his orders and headed for the Bronze. "What the hell was that?" he barked.

They both looked up the alley. Buffy was running towards them. Faith couldn't help but notice that she looked really good running.

"It's a mistake," Buffy said. Riley frowned at her and looked to Faith for the explanation. Buffy laid a hand on his arm. "Riley. It's me. We got caught by a body-switching spell."

"When did this happen?" Riley demanded, eyeing Buffy as if he was trying to find some trace of her inside Faith's body.

Riley glared at her, then, taking Buffy's arm, turned her away from Faith slightly, as if that would stop her from hearing every word. "You could have phoned me, Buffy. I wouldn't have made an ass of myself in front of Forrest and Graham."

"Doubt that," Faith said, just softly enough that Riley could pretend he hadn't heard.

He didn't pretend. "Are you sure this is the best idea? The Initiative could –"

"Riley, I'm not letting the Initiative get their hands on a Slayer. Or have you forgotten that they created Adam?" Buffy jerked her elbow away from his hand. "Look, we're researching the problem, and we'll fix it. Until then –"

"I thought you said Faith was a murderer, and dangerous," Riley said, not bothering to lower his voice any more. "That she was your responsibility. And here you are treating her to a night at the Bronze? In your body?"

Anger boiled up inside Faith. Buffy clamped a hand down on her wrist, as if she knew that Faith was about to explode. She probably did. Faith could feel Buffy's anger, like a raging fire, beneath the surface of her skin.

"This isn't your concern, Riley," she said, the rough voice turning a simple statement into sarcasm.

Buffy's eyes snapped black and deep. Anger flushed her cheeks red, bringing out the dark beauty of Faith's body. "I don't owe you anything, Riley. Not now, not ever. You don't own me."

"Later," Buffy said, obviously trying to reign in her temper. "We'll talk later. I'm... We have to patrol."

Buffy stomped away, and Faith turned hesitantly after her. The last view of Riley she had before they turned a corner was his mouth hanging open in shock, and the jealous fury in his eyes.

"Buffy, wait up!" Faith sprinted down the alley after Buffy, not knowing what else to do. Buffy's longer legs carried her faster, but Faith pulled on the strength she knew she had and caught up with her.

Buffy stopped and turned around so fast Faith nearly smacked into her. "I can't believe I said that!" She kicked a dumpster, the clang echoing in the empty alley, leaving a dent the size of her boot.

Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust and twisted on her heel. She crossed her arms and resumed walking down the alley. Faith glanced back towards the Bronze. Looked like Riley wasn't the only one who was going to get his evening ruined. So why the hell should she follow Buffy?

Just because Buffy defended her to Riley. Just because Buffy's excuse for lying was that she didn't want to hurt her with the truth.

But she went after Buffy anyway. She couldn't keep away. It was a familiar feeling, like so much about Buffy; as if some part of her brain remembered this half-painful attraction. It was the sort of thing Faith couldn't think about, couldn't reduce to reason. Where Buffy led, she followed. She slipped a hand to cover her hidden stake, touching the grain of the wood with a fingertip, and felt better. The night felt warm and soft on her skin. There was a tingle in the pit of her stomach. It was different from her connection with Buffy. She couldn't have said how, except that the twinge felt dangerous, and Buffy was safe.

"My fault?" Faith asked, and almost smiled. She wondered why she wasn't more upset.

"Your body's fault. Hormonal much? I've never been so angry." Buffy cracked her knuckles. "I shouldn't have said that, about him keeping up. The last thing I need is Riley acting all pouty and manly-wounded."

Faith gave a snort of laughter. So Buffy was better at keeping her temper, which explained why this was a lot funnier than it should be. "He's used to you stroking his...ahem...ego?" she asked, smirking a bit.

"Yeah, tell me to fuck off, that's what you want to do, right?" Faith danced around in front of Buffy, where she couldn't ignore her. Buffy tried to step around her, but Faith stayed in her way. "Go on. Get angry."

"Then you're doing a great impression of it. You practically have steam coming out of your ears." Faith prodded Buffy with one finger, just above her collarbone. "Told you my body would be fun," she teased.

Buffy didn't laugh. She held onto her control, but barely. "It's my fault. I wasn't fair to Riley –"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause I'm sure he was being fair to you." Faith stepped forward, into Buffy's space. "You're right. You don't owe him shit. Boyfriend is too good a word for him."

Buffy pushed her back, hard enough to put her off balance, but Faith was expecting it. She stayed on her feet. Stepped forward again. Buffy's hands twitched, inches from violence. Faith wondered if this was how she'd fallen into evil – just because her body needed action, and fury was too close to the surface.

That question Faith didn't want to know the answer to. I don't. About him. She stepped forward again, just because it was good to see Buffy step back. "Farmboy like that, I'm surprised you didn't just use him and lose him," she said. Provoking Buffy. Why? Some almost-memory warned it was a stupid thing to do, as if she couldn't tell that for herself.

Buffy didn't explode, like Faith expected. Even in Faith's body, it was Buffy's mind, Buffy's anger. She was dark and dangerous with it. "You haven't changed," she said, dryly, like it was just some observation, some careless fact.

Faith forced herself to stay still, not to give ground. The words hit her like a sucker-punch to the gut. She reached for anger, but all she found was hurt. Something prodded her to carry it further. Buffy had to lose. The thought came to her, knife-edged and depthless. Faith wanted to ask Why do we do this to each other? Every time, it's the same, every time. How she knew that she didn't know, but it was true. They circled and fought and tried their damnedest to find the weapon that would do the most damage. It was the same now as it always had been. Anger on top of safety. Fear and hurt where there should have been caring. Faith felt the slow burn of rage simmer in Buffy's body, sharp and hopeless. She ignored Buffy's barb and threw one of her own. "I would've dumped him like yesterday's meatloaf," she said. "He kisses like a fish."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. Faith could see echoes of her own evil there. That was a face that could have murdered. That was a body capable of killing. "Going for the boyfriend," Buffy said, vicious and tight. "That strategy's getting old."

Faith had time to think I went for her boyfriend before? and then the meaning of Buffy's words penetrated. "I didn't go for him!" she yelled, and the echoes murmured off the close-set brick walls around them. For a moment Faith was aware of how closed in they were, how high and steep the walls, how there was an overhanging barb wire fence at the far end of the alley. The twinge in her stomach returned. It fueled her anger, made her stronger. "What do you think, I want your macho pig soldier boy? You really think I'd do that? That I'd do that to you?"

It was Buffy's turn to advance, shoving Faith back. Mirroring so many feelings. How many fights? How many times before had they done this? "You kissed him," Buffy said, like she was right, like of course she always had to be right, just because she was Buffy.

"There's a huge difference," Faith yelled, hating the way Buffy's voice made her sound like a little kid.

Buffy got in her face. "Yeah, like what?" she asked, low and menacing, voice like dark chocolate.

Heat flared between them instantly. Faith reached out blindly and grabbed the front of Buffy's coat. She tipped her head back and pulled Buffy down. She'd caught Buffy's mouth half-open, ready with a comeback, and their mouths met in a tangle of tongues and lips. Buffy gasped. Satisfaction surged through Faith, and she pressed her advantage. Buffy's hair, loose and dark, swayed around their faces, hiding them from the world. Faith stroked Buffy's tongue with hers. Pleasure coiled low down in her stomach, the tingles of their contact spraying like hissing fireworks across every inch of her skin. God, she wanted this, needed this. There was nothing to compare it to, no memory of other women or other men, but Faith knew it was the best she'd ever had. She didn't need to remember to know that.

Buffy groaned, harsh and low, and Faith fought to keep the kiss going. She sucked on Buffy's tongue, licking every sensitive part she could reach in Buffy's mouth, kissed her until she felt she would fall apart. She'd meant this to be a lesson, to show Buffy that it was a violation to be kissed without wanting it. But Buffy wanted as much as she did, and she was kissing Faith back.

Faith maneuvered nearer, shoving her arms inside Buffy's jacket to wrap around her waist. Every inch of contact was like a starburst of tingling awareness, a flood of this is Buffy, this is good, this is safe, she is like me, she is mine. Faith pressed herself into Buffy as if they could melt together. Buffy had one hand curving over her collarbone, just below her shoulder, the other reaching up to cup Faith's head. Faith didn't know whether Buffy was about to push her away or yank her closer, deeper.

It didn't matter. They were kissing, and that should have been familiar, too, like all that Buffy was; but Faith knew she'd never felt the bone-deep heat of Buffy's mouth. Buffy was new, like this, twisting in her grip, lips burning and desperate. Faith was dizzy and breathless, her body syrup-slow and sweet with the pleasure of the kiss. She felt Buffy's gasp, the twitch of her hips against hers. Faith backed off, enough to breathe, and then with an incredulous moan, leaned forward again. Mouth on Buffy's jaw, wet, exploring, skin soft and tasting of soap and salt.

Buffy made tiny sounds in the back of her throat, rough surprised syllables, like she didn't know that kisses could turn you molten and leave you broken. "Ah, y-yeah, oh – oh God..."

Faith listened to each breathless husk from the voice that should be hers, and wondered how wrong this was. She was kissing herself, sort of, but it wasn't her, it was Buffy, and that was wrong too. They were enemies and this had started as a way to hurt her. Faith would wind up the one hurt. When she learned whatever truth was left, she was going to realize this was probably the worst idea she'd ever had.

But it felt so good, and Buffy wasn't fighting her. Buffy slipped her hand lower and it pressed against Faith's breast now. Even through coat and shirt and bra, Faith felt it like a brand. Her nipple tightened, fire sliding along her nerves. Her body tautened, like a wire, and she paused in her kiss just to pant against Buffy's skin. "More," she whispered, into the smooth line of Buffy's neck. Buffy's voice didn't sound right on her, too pleading. Wrong. Wrong. This was not going to end well.

Fuck that. Fuck endings. Faith didn't even have beginnings now, no past, and this would be whatever they made it. Faith kissed Buffy's neck again, an apology for them being like this right now. She let her tongue draw shivering lines up to Buffy's mouth, and kissed her again. Buffy let her, and her hand was circling Faith's breast now, avoiding the hard peak of her nipple. Faith drew in a shaky breath. She was wet, pulsing, and Buffy hadn't even touched her yet. God, so close. Buffy was teasing her, taking a slow hot delight in making Faith squirm. Faith crashed their mouths together. Buffy's tongue twined easily with hers, and her hips thrust forward, pushing into Faith's.

Faith gave a high-pitched whimper, wrong sound, wrong voice, but oh, fuck, Buffy was pressing into her thigh, each time like little tiny bolts of lightning. Faith lowered her hands, cupping Buffy's tight, high ass, rough denim under her fingers, and pulled with Buffy's rhythm. Pull, pull, Buffy riding her, each time sensation rising higher, Buffy's fingers brushing her nipple now, waves of wanting pulsing over her. Faith wanted to scream, but Buffy's tongue was in her mouth, licking, nipping, tasting, and what came out was more squeal than scream. Buffy was caught up with her body's lust. Hormonal much? she'd said, and this is what she'd meant, desire rising to the surface, body almost too ready. Faith broke free, breath sobbing in her throat, feeling like the world was falling away under her feet. "Buffy," she gasped, and wanted to say something about their fight, about the alley being dirty and trashy and wrong wrong wrong.

She didn't have time to say any of it. The danger-twinge she'd felt before suddenly surged upwards. Fear spiked through her, sharp and immediate. Buffy jerked back from her. "Vampires," she growled. She looked like a part of the night, witch-dark hair and wild eyes. Faith didn't see her grab her stake, but one second she was empty-handed and the next she was holding it, the pale, pointed wood showing up against the dark grime of the alley.

Faith glanced around at the rusty bins and scraps of garbage. She didn't see them, but she felt the inner clamor that said they were nearby. It was like last night, except now she wasn't watching. She was a Slayer. Here was destiny, handed to her on a plate. Just freaking wonderful. She raised an eyebrow at Buffy's tense, watchful stance, and pulled out her own stake. She fell into a defensive posture as if she'd been doing it all her life. Maybe she had.

Buffy nodded towards the fence at the end of the alley. Faith started to protest, then stopped. Buffy leapt up and caught a bit of rebar extending from one building. She swung her body around it. Her flip carried her over the barbed tips of the chain link. She landed neatly on the other side. For a minute, Faith thought she was getting left behind. Then, Buffy turned back and raised an eyebrow at her. Faith met her eyes through the metal diamonds.

Faith looked up at the rusty steel bar. There was a hungry chuckle behind her in the alley, and the almost-soundless step of feet. The vampires were close. Now or never, superhero.

Faith didn't let herself think. This was a physical thing, something known more in her body than in her head. She jumped up. The bar slapped cold and solid into her hand. Wind rushed past her. She landed on the balls of her feet as easily as a cat, bending her knees to take the impact. She let out a relieved sigh, only half joking. Grinning at Buffy, she bounced a bit on her toes. "Now what?"

Buffy started to smile back at her. Then, as if she'd just let herself focus on Faith's features, her face went sullen and cold. She didn't say a word, just jogged up the alley, expecting Faith to follow her.

"What? Come on!" Faith checked back over her shoulder as they ran. Shadows shifted near the fence. They were being followed. "Buffy!"

Buffy led the way through a maze of backstreets, then vaulted over a stone wall. A smooth lawn stretched ahead of them. Faith could hardly tell if this was the same cemetery as last night, or a different one.

Faith walked backwards, holding up her stake. Excitement pounded through her, adrenaline and the slinking pleasure from before. She'd kissed Buffy. She'd sworn she wouldn't start anything, and – well –

No wonder Buffy had gone all stiff. She'd finally acknowledged whose tongue was in her mouth – whose body she was feeling up. Faith let the tingles slide through her, enjoying it. The vampires creeping up on them just made the sensation more intense.

"Don't die," Buffy answered shortly. She kept her back turned to Faith and hid them behind a mausoleum, where they could get a drop on their hunters.

"I kissed you," Faith said, because obviously Buffy trying her damnedest to pretend it hadn't happened. As if she could turn the Slayer on and off like a tap. Fight vampires now. Think about what the kiss meant later – if at all. Faith could see the wrinkly-foreheaded dudes heading for them, ten or so, all with big fangy grins.

"Don't sound like that," Buffy said. She rammed her stake into the first vampire who passed their ambush, pulling it out quickly as he dusted.

"Like what?" Faith asked. Her voice squealed indignantly. There was no use being quiet. The vampires had seen them.

Buffy attacked the biggest one. "Like you're some innocent schoolgirl with a crush!" she yelled between punches, weaving under the clumsy grabs of the vampire.

"It's your voice!" Faith hurled herself onto one of the vampires. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. Don't die. Wonderful advice. She took a punch that stunned her, then ducked the next one without thinking. She blinked, and when she looked again, there was dust in front of her and another vampire charging.

"That's not the point!" Buffy emphasized her last word with another stake to a heart.

"You liked it," Faith said, sweeping her leg out to catch a girl vamp under her knees. Two of them went down when she shoved, like dominoes. She jumped on top of the pile and got a knee in her stomach for her trouble. "Oof!"

"I'm fine," Faith forced herself to say. Beneath her, the girl vamp's yellow glaring eyes erupted into dust and vanished. Faith had landed on her chest, stake down. Luck. Or destiny.

"I heard." Faith shook off Buffy's hand. "You're freaked because we did it in each other's bodies."

Faith tackled Buffy out of the way of a vampire's lunge. The vamp stumbled and Buffy drove her stake up into his chest as he fell.

"So you're not freaked that we're both girls?" Faith flipped from her back to her feet without thinking how she'd done it.

Buffy's face flushed and she stopped pounding the vamp in front of her. "That's – I mean –" The vamp caught her with a kick that sent her sprawling. He followed up by jumping on her, but Buffy got her legs up and kicked him off. He flew past Faith, breaking a headstone with his landing. "I'm with Riley!" Buffy yelled. With a vicious grunt, she staked the vamp.

"Stupidest excuse I ever heard, you don't even like him!" Another vampire launched himself onto Faith with a growl and she turned her hip and tossed him right into a low, jutting tree branch. Poof. Awesome. She didn't even know she'd been aiming him there. She paused to admire it.

Buffy grabbed her upper arm and swung her around, throwing her back into the fight. "God, you have the attention span of a gnat," she said.

Faith avoided a crescent kick and weaved around a series of obvious, flailing punches. "You're the one changing the subject."

"And I'm supposed to know whether I am? Was I before?" Faith grabbed her vampire's shirt collar and used him as a wrecking ball on the nearest tomb wall.

Buffy glared at her. "You think I would know?" A roundhouse kick crunched the face of her opponent.

"You might." Faith doubled the vampire over with a knee. "You're –" Kick. " – the only –" Jab. " – one I know! You, I remember –" Left hook. "Only you. But when I kissed you –" Right uppercut. Punch. Punch. Punch. "It. Was. Right." Stake. Dust. Panting.

"Are we –" Faith stopped, licked her lips. Buffy was looking at her like a hunting owl eying a mouse. Faith watched her eyes, her mouth. It had to be wrong to be so turned on by her own body. It was Buffy she wanted, Buffy's lust behind those dark eyes. "Are we always this honest when we fight?"

"We did that a lot, huh." It was a statement, not a question. Faith rolled a kink out of her shoulder and surveyed the graveyard. Nothing. No vampires. There was no question of believing in them anymore. If the body-switch hadn't convinced her, then the fight had. She shivered, not from cold, but from reaction. She took a deep breath, trying to hide how it shuddered in her throat. The tingle of Buffy's nearness cut through any thought she tried to form. Kissing her had been so good. Faith wanted to kiss her again. She moved forward before she knew what she was doing.

Buffy shrugged away from her. "We've got to get home," she said curtly. She flinched away from Faith when Faith started walking beside her.

"No." Buffy held herself rigid. Faith shot her a look, half worry and half angry disbelief. Buffy didn't stay to answer it. She headed for home in quick tense strides that jarred her body with every step. All the panther grace of the fight was erased.

Buffy sucked in a breath. Faith glanced at her sideways, saw her flushed cheeks and fever-bright eyes, the quick, light breaths.

Buffy stopped. "Listen. It's just a Slayer thing, a reaction, okay? It doesn't mean anything."

"It was a Slayer thing in the alley before the vampires showed up?" Faith taunted. She stepped close to Buffy again, pushing into her space. This time, Buffy's eyes went down her body, and instead of the horniness Faith knew she felt, there was only disgust. Faith watched her face. Buffy's lips lush and warm from kissing, a hickey red against the paleness of her neck. "You want to kiss me again?"

"It's easy," Faith whispered, in her soft Buffy-voice that was more reassurance than sex. "Close your eyes."

"When I remember." Faith brushed her lips against Buffy's. The tiny touch felt like a gunshot, exploding throughout her body. Faith shook, her breath coming faster. "Then –" she whispered. "Then it'll be okay." She kissed Buffy, slowly, her tongue darting out to taste her. Buffy's breasts pressed into hers with each uneven hitch of breath. Faith ran her hands down Buffy's arm, catching her wrists loosely.

Buffy leaned forward, into the slow, sensual kiss, warm with promise. Buffy kept her eyes closed, even as she sank deeply into the kiss. Her stiffness bled away. Faith felt her heart thrumming through their clothes, fast and light. She had forgotten. Faith moaned silently, aching for the touch of Buffy's lips all over, everywhere, now. The slaying had killed Buffy's inhibitions, maybe, trapped as she was with Faith's hormones, Faith's needs. The rest was all them, the two of them, finding each other at last.

"Let's go home," Buffy said, in her slow rough drawl. "I don't know, I don't know if I can..."

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Je Me Souviens

by Queen Zulu

Copyright © 2005

Queenzulu47@yahoo.com