Title: Like Nobody Is Watching
Author: Selena Ulrich
Email: selena.ulrich@d...
Summary: Faith and Buffy do what Faith and Buffy do best - i.e. fail to
deal. Everyone suffers. Continuing from 'Going From Bad to Worse'.
Couples: Faith/Joyce, Faith/Buffy (both implicit)
Rating: Hard R because Faith swears like a soldier and there are sexual acts
referred to.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Products, 20th Century Fox and
the WB Network own them, I just got dared to continue the series.
Spoilers: Miniscule Season 3 ones, but reading 'Going From Bad To Worse'
helps. In a plot sense, that is.
Feedback: If it's constructive, praising or damning, I'll love it.
Dedication: This is for Faithtastic because she dared me to go on. And for
writing more Faith/Joyce than you can shake a stick at. Also big hugs to
Kate Bolin for her usual wonderful speed Beta-ing.
Notes: The title comes from a quote, given at the beginning of the tale. And
# # denotes thoughts. I think that covers all of it...

***

"You've got to dance like nobody is watching and love
like it's not going to hurt."
--Kathy Mateah

The beat throbbed through her like a second heart. Muscles tensed and
flexed, skin tightened, sinews stretched as she moved; letting the siren
call of the heavy techno rhythm pull limbs in directions she had almost
forgotten they could go. The pain still lingered, but it was muted now,
sedated by her efforts as she pushed her body on through the music,
accepting the guidance of the drum and the bass like long-lost friends with
whom she had reconnected as if she had never been away. Back in Boston she
went to clubs like this all the time, but she never thought that Sunnydale
even knew what hard-core *was*, let alone produce a place that played it.
Yet here she was. Faith the Vampire Slayer, saviour of worlds, moving with a
purpose, with a passion, with a will to keep trying to stay one step ahead.

Trying to forget.

A hand ran with delicate roughness across her face, *her* hand, luxuriating
in the soft suppleness and the decadent pleasure of touch, up her cheek and
through her hair, then down her neck and chest and thighs, stopping just
short of intimacy, before beginning the cycle again on the other side. It
felt so good when someone touched her like this, so right, that even when
she was the one doing the touching it still sent little shivers down her
spine. Little shivers that grew and multiplied; little shivers that formed a
perfect counterpoint to the backbeat; so intense and right with every caress
that she could feel the heat gathering below in a way she had only
experienced in one other situation, with one other person...

...and unbidden, the memories of recent events returned to the surface...

She stared at the blonde slayer standing in her doorway. It had only been a
few minutes since Buffy had arrived at her motel room and declared that they
needed to talk, but to Faith it felt like a lifetime. Standing there,
staring, she could feel the silence stretching away unbearably between them,
filled with broken promises like an unspoken challenge. Finally she broke
it, turning back to her packing with a snap of

"Well what are you standing there for, B, SoulBoy vamp you as well as fuck
you? Come in already!"

She couldn't see her ex's face but she could guess from the slight
hesitation followed by the sound of a nervous footfall that her words had
struck home.

#One all#

A twinge of guilt followed this thought. It was that sort of shit that had
got her here in the first place, that sort of shit she was trying to save
them from. But just as she was about to consider rectifying her mistake,
Buffy spoke again and the rage returned.

"What are you doing?"

Faith snorted contemptuously as she resumed.

"I'm auditioning for the Ice Capades," she retorted, before spinning round
to face Buffy with a look. "What the fuck does it *look* like I'm doing?"

This time she felt no regret when the shorter woman flinched. It was funny
how attacking the really banal became acceptable in a crisis. But it was
clear that no judge on the planet would have criticised her reaction, and
even Buffy seemed to realise how stupid her words had sounded.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I guess you must be feeling pretty
upset right now."

"Damn right I'm upset," Faith muttered, turning back to the distraction of
her suitcase as she tried to get the catch out of her voice.

"And I can understand you're angry with me, a-and I deserve it!"

Another snort from Faith, this time to distract herself from the way the
sound of Buffy's distress managed to hit her in stomach, right about
*here*...

"But," the blonde continued, "I-I thought if I came here then, maybe, I
could, I don't know..."

(Faith could almost picture the myriad of cute little gestures Buffy was
going through right now.)

"...explain what happened?" she finished, her voice rising in enquiring
hopefulness.

With a flourish Faith drew the zipper all the way around the case then
turned to face her love.

"Well, gee B, I don't know; you betrayed me, tore my heart to pieces, broke
the only trust I've given in years, and all because you craved some undead
dick. I think that sounds like a pretty clear explanation to me."

The colour drained from the blonde's cheeks, and for a horrible moment Faith
was reminded of Joyce, the way the older woman had looked at her that
morning after Faith had casually reached into her innermost being and
destroyed her so completely with the simple words...

"That's not it at all!"

With a start Faith's thoughts returned to the now.

 "It's more complicated than that."

"Oh yeah?" Faith couldn't hide her contempt at Buffy's plaintive tone.
"Doesn't look all that complex from where I'm standing. You wanted Angel's
dick. It doesn't matter that what we had was so much stronger or better or,
hell, more likely to survive long-term, *YOU WANTED ANGEL'S DICK!*"

Now she was in her ex's face, her anger fuelled by the wicked sensation of
moral outrage, her finger poking into Buffy's chest to emphasise her words.

"Long, cold, undead pole..."

 ("Faith, stop it!" Buffy pleaded, but Faith was on a roll.)

"...you just couldn't accept that you couldn't have you cake and eat it, had
to play both sides just because you couldn't get enough of that Angel
Lovin'! Well I hope whatever he's got sated your hunger girlfriend, because
from now on Faith is officially off your menu! But I'm sure that won't
matter to you, because it's clear that DeadBoy still has a special going on
Porksword."

For a moment Buffy just stood there, lips mouthing unformed sentiments as
the tears coursed down her cheeks. Then she sobbed.

"I can't believe," The grief was thick in her voice now, but Faith ignored
it, "you could *think* something like that of me!"

"Yeah, well, I can't believe what sluts you Summers women are! What is that,
like a genetic thing? Dutiful daughter boinks the undead whilst Mummy
Dearest goes cruising the waterfront for hot young dykes to fuck?"

And in that instance, everything changed...

A figure behind her knocked into Faith and she stumbled. For a moment
instinct overtook reason and she span round, fist raised, ready to confront
this new evil, or vamp, or whatever shit-head was planning to spoil her
night for her. But then she caught sight the pasty young man who had dared
to be so clumsy, and reality returned. Slowly she lowered her fist, her gaze
locked on the asshole with a mixture of wariness and embarrassment,
deliberately trying to ignore the fear that she had so clearly created in
those pale blue eyes. Shit, she was still on edge. If she had been holding a
stake, or a crossbow, or even a glass... It didn't bear thinking about.
Clearly she had been wrong to try and be around people, and all the dancing
seemed to be making matters worse, not better. Definitely time to quit while
she was ahead.

With one last glare she turned away from her 'assailant' and stalked through
the crowds, off the dance floor and out into the night beyond.

Outside the air was almost as warm as it had been in the club itself and she
swore. She had been hoping for a few cool breezes to ease the storm that was
raging within her, but clearly Let's Destroy Faith Night wasn't about to let
anything that good happen to her. Instead it had provided her with heat;
sticky, oppressive, invasive heat that hung as heavy as a conscience on the
southie Slayer, encouraging those recent memories to whirl so fiercely
within her that it was all she could do to stand upright. Desperately she
tried shaking her head, but it was no use; even as she set off for home all
she could hear was...

"What did you say?"

Faith smirked, despite herself.

"Your Mom," she replied, taking a step closer, "miss Homespun Mother 1998,"
each word enunciated clearly and unmistakeably, "likes to go to seedy bars
down by the docks and pick up women." Another smirk. "Not very nice but I
guess it's more original than sailors."

In the silence that followed Faith screamed. Not out loud, because that
would be giving away too much, but inside her head; in the dark places even
she refused to go a little girl with her face screamed at her in fury
because she had *done it again*! Everything had been under control, the
matter had been in hand, and hell, she had even been claiming the moral high
ground with perfect justification. But now it all lay in ruins. Now the
tables had turned and any second now *she* would be the one in the wrong,
and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing she could say or do
because she knew how it worked, she had to be the one in control, making the
impression, leaving her mark, tearing away at the safe little world of
others just because she knew how. So even as the girl before her opened her
mouth, even as she worked out what she wanted to say, Faith already knew how
she would reply and there was nothing she could do but watch in horror as
events unfurled before her. Or rather, were unfurled by her.

"How could you say something so *sick*?"

"I say it because it's true, B. I say it because I've seen it with my own
eyes, been there as your Mom picked up some drunken little tramp and driven
her home to fuck her halfway to paradise and back. And do you know how I
came to see this pretty little scene?"

("No..." whimpered Buffy, and part of Faith, that little-girl-Faith, wished
she could whimper with her.)

"Because that tramp was *me*, B. That tramp was the heartbroken shell of a
girl *you* created that night you got yourself some hot vampire action. And
OK, so it was stupid; OK, it was a mistake, but the fact remains that if
*you* hadn't done the dirty with Angel, *I* wouldn't have woken up this
morning next to your Mom!"

"You...this morning?"

"Yeah B, this morning!" Faith was firing on all cylinders now, oblivious to
her lover's pain and tears, "While you were sneaking back in for pancakes or
moping around Sunnydale feeling like the whore you are, *I* was waking up
next to the best goddamn fuck of my *life*! And as much as it should never
have happened, the one small comfort I can take from all this is that at
least now I have something *you'll* never have."

She smiled softly.

"And it's all thanks to *you*!"

The blow came so quickly that all Faith could do was react; block the fist
with her left arm and return the jab with her right, and then they were
fighting. Jab, block, kick, punch; all words forgotten, all reason gone as
the two Slayers took matters to their most basic level. A roundhouse kick
sent Faith sprawling onto the floor, but she responded with a kick that
hurled Buffy onto the bed, knocking Faith's suitcase clean across the room
in the process. The blonde Slayer recovered quickly, however, kicking down
with a force that would have done serious damage had Faith not grabbed her
leg and pulled her down to her level. And so it continued, Slayer verses
Slayer, each one fighting with the passion of the truly heartbroken until
everything was a wreck - the bed, the room, each other. But still they
fought, neither of them giving an inch, neither getting the advantage, until
a wrongly timed step turned into a trip and Faith found herself rammed up
against a motel wall by the full force of Buffy.

She smiled down at the enraged blonde.

"Oh yeah, treat me rough B, you know I like it." She smirked. "At least,
that's what your mother discovered."

The first punch slammed her cheek against the wall, but the second she saw
coming and caught with bone-jarring force. The pain was intense, but she
used it, and a split second later she had caught Buffy's other hand and they
were at an impasse.

Chuckling, Faith shook her head in the most patronising manner possible.

"What is it with you and violence, B?" she asked. "Why can't we just discuss
and process our relationship issues like any normal couple?"

"Because most normal couples don't include *psychos*!" Buffy spat in
response.

"Oh really?" Now Faith was in full-on smirk mode. "Well if I'm a psycho,
what does that make you? A psycho groupie? Or maybe you're just a closet
psycho? A psycho wannabe, unable to let loose the beat within. C'mon B," Her
smirk now contained a leer. "Get in touch with your Bad Self."

Buffy shrugged as best she could.

"OK, you asked for it."

And with that she morphed into her game face and went for Faith's jugular...

"OW!"

The pain seared down Faith's shoulder as she felt her arm pulled back. This
time she didn't think twice, and before anybody knew it she was spinning
round, using the momentum of the tug to propel herself so forcefully into
her assailing that it only took a swift backhand and a grab before she found
herself staring straight into the eyes of the Willow who had attacked her as
she...

For the second time that night her gossamer-thin self-control kicked into
action and she caught the follow-through before it had even happened, though
she didn't relinquish her grip on the terrified Wiccan.

"Oh," she growled. "It's you."

Half a second passed without comment before Faith got bored.

"Look, do you have something to say, Red, or are you just going to stand
there pissing me off all night?"

"Well, would speak," Willow gabbled, as hurriedly as Faith had ever heard
her, "but uh, speak better, unthreatened."

With a growl Faith pushed the little witch away.

"OK, is that better?" she asked. "Do you have enough space to breathe or be
one with nature, or whatever flaky little action it is that you so rely on?
Because frankly I've had a shit of a night and unless you've got a pretty
fucking world-beating reason for going after me, I'd like to be on my way."

"I wasn't going after you," Willow muttered petulantly, pulling her clothes
back into reasonable shape. "I was just...on my way to see Buffy's mom, and
when I saw you..."

"You thought it'd be a good opportunity to grab the bad girl and give her a
piece of your nice little suburban morality spiel, is that it?"

"No! I...I wanted to say how sorry I am. You know. About what happened
between you and Buffy."

Faith's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Nothing happened *between* me and Buffy, OK Red? Everything that happened
is on *her* side, and *hers* alone!"

"I know," Willow replied calmly. "I know. It wasn't so long ago that I was
in a similar position, remember? Me, Oz, Xander Cordelia..."

"Actually, I *don't* remember Red," Faith interrupted, "I was out of town at
the time. And while we talking about doctoring the facts, weren't *you* the
betrayer in that particular little love quadrangle?"

"Darn tooting!" replied Willow. "And that's why I know what I'm talking
about Faith! Buffy loves you! OK, she made a...horrible *horrible* mistake,
with consequences so far reaching that...that..."

(She tried to express the distance with her hands and failed.)

"...that I can't think of an expression powerful enough to convey how bad
they are! But she loves *you*. You're all she can talk about whenever we're
studying together. You're her sun, her moon, her air..."

"Well if I'm so *goddamn* important to her," Faith shouted, "why did she let
Angel fuck her like the cheap piece of ass she is?"

Willow looked repulsed. "God, how can you say things like that?"

"What, you mean telling it like it is? Describing your blonde, oh-so-perfect
bestest bud as the cheap, sleazy, corpse-fucking little bitch she's more
than proven herself to be? Telling the *world*," Faith threw her arms out
wide as her voice crescendoed, " that Buffy Summers is a two-faced,
manipulative, untrustworthy, whoring piece of slutty..."

"Enough!" This time it was Willow's turn to shout. "OK, you're angry with
Buffy! I get that! The *world* gets that!  But you know something Faith, I
don't think it cares! So your relationship ended and your heart's been torn
in two! Big whoop! Evil doesn't rest just because you've been dealt a low
blow! The forces of darkness don't magically take five whenever the Slayer
doesn't feel up to fighting! There's something bigger going on than just
simple heartbreak, and as much as it might hurt, the world still needs our
help! *Your* help!"

"Oh yeah?" sneered Faith. "And why should I give a damn? What has the world
ever given me? Everything I ever had was because I went for it, and every
time the world took it away. I had a surrogate mother, the world let
Kaekeistos kill her. I had a girl who I truly loved, the world made her fuck
a vamp! So don't stand there telling *me* that the world needs me, because
if it does, it's got a funny way of showing its gratitude, and frankly I'm
tired of being its punching bag!"

"Well, *fine*!" shouted Willow. "*Be* like that! I'm only reminding you of
your *sacred duty*! I'm only asking you to *save lives*, no *biggie*! But if
you'd rather bitch about your unlucky breaks then *be my guest*, because you
only reap what you sow, and if you think life treats you like a loser, then
maybe that's because you *deserve* it!"

That did it. With a grunt Faith swung a left, and the young hacker
staggered. A right, a left, a jab, an upper-cut - Willow was clearly reeling
under the blows but Faith didn't notice - a devastating blow to the jaw -
and then Willow was down; going down fast, with Faith following, her hands
round the Wiccan's neck, squeezing with an almost unnatural fury as she
screamed out...

"NO!!!"

The word tore from Faith's lips as Buffy attacked, pushing her out of the
bite and into the vampire herself; propelling her on with such force that
they fell together, hands grabbing, jaws snarling, everything a blur until
they hit the ground Buffy first, her hideous visage looking up in a twisted
grin so *inhuman*, so *alien*, so *fucking* *smug*, that all Faith could do
by way of reaction was bring her fist down upon it hard. The sickening
crunch of bone filled the air, but still the vampire grinned on, her tawny
eyes seeming to mock Faith as the Slayer drove her punches home, screaming
in animal pain as she lay into her ex, beating at her face again and again,
until, without warning, Buffy's arm shot out with preternatural speed and
grabbed Faith by the wrist.

"Gee, *F*," she sneered. "You've got some real wife-beating action going on
there. Did I ever tell you how attractive that's *not*!"

Snarling she pushed, flinging the brunette back long enough for her to
gracefully roll to one side and get to her feet.

"Still," she panted, her chest heaving in grim parody of the life if once
contained, "I can't say I'm really surprised. I mean, after your Mom and
Gwendolyn Post, I guess violence against women is the only emotional
response you know."

With a roar, Faith hurled herself at Buffy's legs and the vampire was
brought down with a crash. A knife of pain went through Faith's cheek as the
blonde's boot lashed out at her face, but she shook it off and pressed on,
fighting blind, all training forgotten, her actions governed only by the
black rage and animal passions that stem from the pure grief of betrayal.
Beneath her she could feel the creature struggle, but she paid that no
attention, concentrating instead on the satisfaction of landing each blow,
using the force to propel her along until that face was in her sights once
more. In a flash her senses returned and her rage froze, coalescing swiftly
into a cold hard sense of purpose like none she had ever had before, and
suddenly all she was able to do was grab her lover by her top and scream
through her tears and grief and mucus

"WHY DID YOU DO IT?"

The words came out in an almost unrecognisable torrent, but Buffy seemed to
understand anyway.

"What?" she half laughed. "Are you suggesting that *me*,"

(She shifted back to her human face.)

", lil' old Buffy Summers, would *ever* let a big bad ol' vamp like Angelus
turn her?"

Without waiting for an answer she drove her fist up under Faith's jaw, and
the southie Slayer was sent flying back once more.

"Well, you'd be right," the ex-Slayer conceded, jumping to her feet. "But I
don't think he can be given all the credit here. At least, not for the
motivation.   That can be passed squarely onto you."

In a flash Faith was up, fists raised, ready to attack. But the sense of
purpose still burned inside her, and so she restrained her long enough to
hiss at the blonde

"What do you mean?"

"Wow, control! I'm impressed." Buffy nodded in mocking acknowledgement of
Faith's effort. "But you see, that's what I'm talking about. Or rather,
that's what I *wasn't* talking about. You know, control, its absence, that
whole 'rage against the world, oh I'm so fucked up, pity me' routine you've
got going? One day I just woke up and realised I don't need that."

Slowly she began to approach.

"I don't need someone who deals with every crisis like it's slaying time. I
don't need someone who prefers to be primed to explode like dynamite rather
than let anybody know her. I don't need someone who can only deal with her
mistakes by making them worse."

She paused and fixed the Slayer with a deeply withering gaze.

"In short, I don't need some pretentious little drama queen like you making
a mess of everything I hold dear simply because she's bored."

Faith snorted, despite the pain.

"Yeah right, whereas Angelus is *so* practical and restrained," she sneered.

Buffy laughed.

"Weell, I'm not claiming he's perfect," she admitted, recommencing her
approach, "He's still a demon after all. But you know want to know
something?"

Her eyes darkened.

"At least he never claimed to be part of me," she said in a tone of ice. "At
least he never acted like a goddamn mirror of my soul, fighting and fucking
and trying to tear life apart before turning to tell me that I was like that
too!"

Now she was leaning in so close that Faith could smell her perfume.

"Well, I'm not, Faith!" she hissed. "I was a cheerleader. I was the May
Queen. I was a champion of Justice, fighting on the side of Light against
the darkness, for those who could not protect themselves. No matter what I
did, no matter what mistakes I made, I knew one thing more certainly than
anything else...."

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper now.

"I'm not you."

For the briefest of moments neither of them moved; those three words hanging
in the air between them as if captioning the frozen tableau they would have
presented to any and all who might be watching. Then Faith scowled.

"No," she growled. "You're worse."

Swiftly she pulled Buffy's head down and slammed her knee into it.

"You're a *conceited*..."

The knee connected again,

"...self-*centred*..."

And again.

"...little *bitch*..."

She span Buffy round and slammed her into the wall.

"...who would rather *give up*..."

Another slam.

"...than *accept* her *sacred* *duty*!"

As the last aftershock of the word 'duty' faded into nothing, Faith let go
of the vampire and stepped back. Once more an instant tableau formed, only
this time with Faith as the observer, looking with a peculiarly detached
sense of horror at the crumpled, torn, and curiously still form that had
once been her girl. Then the vampire moved, and Faith's fists shot up again,
again prepared to go another round of the violence that was all that was
left of her relationship with Buffy. But it never came. Instead, Faith found
herself watching with shock as the blonde's shoulders shook, muscles
rippling as she heaved and shook once more; each tremor accompanied by a
low, bubbling, eerie sort of noise that seemed to echo round the room and
touch something deep inside of her that made her feel both sorrow and rage.

The bitch was laughing.

"Sacred duty?" The ex-Slayer's voice sounded bleak. "Faith, have you read
our job description recently? We don't have a sacred duty! We don't have
anything! Just pain and misery and violence, until one day we're too slow or
too tired or too unlucky, and then it's game over! We die! Is that *really*
worth the time and effort? Is that really what you aspire to? Because I sure
as hell don't!"

Now it was Faith's turn to laugh, mirroring the sound Buffy made to
perfection.

"Well, gee B, if that's the case then I think you've got one hell of a funny
way of going at it."

"At least I *did* go at it!" replied Buffy, twisting round as best she could
to look at her ex. "Don't you get it? I beat them all. I found that one
little loophole they neglected to inform us about and I got out. I finally
made my life my own, and not because of some special Slayer power or gift or
prophecy, but because of me. Little old Buffy Summers, high school twink
made good." She smirked softly. "And there we were assuming that you wore
the trousers in our relationship. I guess at the end of the day that was why
I was the Slayer and you weren't. You just didn't have the guts."

With those words a curtain of red fell across Faith's eyes, and the next
thing she knew, she was back in front of Buffy, one hand grabbing the bitch
by the torn and dirty designer top, the other poised with a stake right
above her treacherous heart.

Again she found tawny yellow eyes looking into hers.

"What's the matter, F?" Buffy's voice was like molten gold now, soft and
liquid and dangerous, "Having trouble letting me go? Here, let me make it
easier for you."

As the blonde brushed her chest gently against the Slayer's fingers, Faith
closed her eyes and tried not to whimper, concentrating instead on trying to
suppress those reawakening thoughts and feelings she had hoped the rage had
buried.

It wasn't working.

"There you go," she heard her lover whisper, her voice creeping into Faith's
ears like a thief in the night. "Just one little *push*,"

(Another slight chest movement emphasised the words and Faith felt her knees
start to weaken.)

"and you're in. And I'm dust." A sensuous smile. "If that's what you want."

At her back, Faith could feel undead hands sliding their way up in an
all-too familiar way.

"Or maybe," Buffy continued, angling her head ever so slightly, "that's not
what you want. Maybe what you'd prefer is..."

At the first touch of those lips Faith started to melt. It didn't matter,
her body seemed to be telling her. It didn't matter that she had been
screwed over by her love, or that she had screwed Joyce over in her turn.
Buffy was back and all was going to be well; she had been forgiven,
reaccepted, for what and who she was, and as long as that was there, she
could simply let everything go. But as her lips parted gently she felt that
cold dead tongue slip inside, and suddenly she knew that it *did* matter, it
*wasn't* going to be well, her love had gone for good and now in her place
there was a monster with her face and her memories who was playing her for a
fool.

Snarling Faith broke free of the embrace and grabbed Buffy's arm, twisting
her round into an arm lock and pulling her close.

"I may not be ready to stake you yet," she growled into the vampire's ear,
all lust forgotten, "but I'm sure as shit able to make you regret the day
you were ever unborn!"

And with that she slammed the blonde's head hard into the wall...

The sound of bone hitting concrete brought Faith instantly to her senses and
she sat back gasping. Her mind reeled from the show still playing behind her
eyes but she forced herself to ignore it, desperately looking around to try
and focus on the now. She was outside, she was in the an ally in the bad
part of town...those facts were something, but not enough; not enough to
make sense of the sickeningly familiar feeling of dread and guilt that was
gnawing away in the pit of her stomach. And then she saw it, lying in front
of her, bloodied and barely conscious, the left side of the face a massive
swelling bruise like the one she had left on that undead bitch, that undead
bitch in front of her, only it wasn't her, was it; it wasn't Buffy this
time, it was...

Now she was on her feet, now she was running; fast, hard, getting away as
quickly as she could, fleeing from her handiwork like she had fled from
everything else of importance in her life. She knew she should stop, knew
she should call an ambulance at least, but she couldn't, wouldn't, it was
too late for that; she simply had to get away and that was all there was to
it.

With that thought, Faith ran on.

***

At the Summers house, Joyce sat in lonely vigil at her kitchen table. She
didn't know why she was doing this. She had never done this before. OK, when
she had first found out that Buffy was the Slayer she had been tempted, but
after those agonising months waiting for her daughter to return, and the
even worse couple of weeks after she had, she had convinced herself that it
would be better for all concerned if she just left Buffy to it. Coming back
late from patrol to find her Mom sitting there, nervously gazing at the
clock...it wouldn't have made things any better, Joyce was sure of that. Yet
here she was now, doing exactly that, and for the life of her she couldn't
figure out why. Maybe it was the heat - it had been too hot to sleep, that
was for certain - or maybe it was something instinctual and Mom-ish that
told her that tonight of all nights her daughter would need to speak with
her.

Or maybe it was simply good old-fashioned guilt at what she had done the
night before with...

A frantic knocking at the door made her look up. In an instant she was up,
slipping her dressing gown over her shoulders as she marched down that hall
in the sickeningly secure knowledge that nobody knocking that urgently this
late could have anything good to share.

Hurriedly she undid the sequence of locks that had once made her feel so
secure and flung open the door to find

"Buffy!"

Joyce stared in horror at the battered form of her daughter.

"What happened? What...who did this to her?"

"Vamps. At the old motel. They got her pretty bad. I don't know what exactly
happened, but when I got there..."

"Got there?" Joyce's tone was icy. "Young man, what was she doing three
alone in the first place?"

"I...I don't know...all I knew was that there was screaming, and...I think
they had help."

"Help? W-what sort of help? Evil help?"

There was a tense pause, and then a softly whispered

"Faith."

A rushing noise filled Joyce's head and she staggered, gripping the
doorframe hard as she felt her world try to whirl away from her.

"Mrs Summers, are you...?"

"I'm fine," Joyce gasped, "I'm fine."

"Look, I don't mean to upset you more, but...she can't remain out here..."

"Of course, I'm sorry, come in, come in." Joyce turned to hurry for the
phone. "Do you think calling 911 will help?"

"Not really," Angelus said, smiling as he stepped inside.