Je me souviens

Another day, another chapter. Aren't weekends fun? I think so. Besides, I have a way cooler cliffhanger to leave you with! Damn, I'm such a tease.

Chapter Twelve

*

The door swung open and Xander stomped back into the house. "Okay, I'm back. But only because I forgot my shoes," he said. "The dramatic exit still stands."

Faith stepped away from Buffy. She glanced at Xander's gleaming-white socks, then at his little-boy-lost pout. And, as quickly as that, she was laughing--well, giggling, really, Buffy's thousand-watt smile and infectious silliness taking her over. Buffy stared at her, then at Xander, then at Xander's socks. She started to smile.

"I'm serious!" Xander protested. Willow and Tara came to the foyer to see what was going on, and Xander turned to them for support, gesturing wildly at his feet. "I used the last of my bleach on these! And just because I live with a washer-dryer set..."

Faith giggled harder, tears of mirth gathering in her eyes. She leaned on Buffy, who offered her tiny 'there, there' pats on the shoulder. Willow and Tara smiled at her cautiously, as though they couldn't figure out what was quite so funny. Faith waved at Xander, then at Buffy, trying to explain. "He's--and you're--acting like we robbed a bank--but the socks--the socks brought him back--"

Xander grinned sheepishly at his feet and wiggled his toes. "The storming out is just tough on them," he said, giving the socks a sympathetic look. "They really do their best."

Faith got control of the giggles. She felt a sudden surge of affection for Xander, who needed to be dramatic, but whose quick turnaround proved he was willing to be won over. The first day, in the hospital, she'd felt his anger and reacted with wary self-protection. Today, in Buffy's body, felt like a fresh start, like she was willing to open up to these people and be friends.

"Storming out?" Willow asked. "Why is there storming out? And please don't tell me you guys robbed a bank. I hack for business and pleasure, but fixing police records makes my stomach all rumbly."

Tara smiled gently at her. "I d-don't think it's anything illegal, sweetie," she said. "Xander's just surprised."

"Surprised? Try shocked! Shocked, I say!" Xander pointed an accusing finger at Buffy and Faith, then gave a defeated shake of his head. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. "But, hey, I can deal. I'm supreme-dealy guy. They could hire me at Circus, Circus. That's how great a dealer I am." There was still a trace of bitterness in his voice, but he shrugged and smiled at Buffy and Faith.

"Um, still in the dark here?" Willow said. "Deal with what?"

Faith looked to Buffy to answer. But Buffy stared at Willow, shame-faced, and didn't say anything. Faith wondered that it wasn't obvious, because Buffy's arm was still around her waist, and she was leaning into her. She could feel her mind struggling to remember, murky details from the past fighting to surface. She remembered that she wasn't like this, a hugger or a cuddler. Yet waking up in Buffy's bed had been wonderful...warm, and safe...like it could go on forever.

Her memory warned her that nothing was forever. Her mind told her that she was independent, that she didn't need Buffy, didn't need anyone.

Her body stayed curled against Buffy's, though, enjoying the feel of her, the scent of her skin.

And still no one answered Willow's question.

"I-I think he means that B-Buffy and Faith are t-together," Tara said softly. She held Willow's hand and studied her anxiously.

"What?" Willow tilted her head and stared at the two of them. Faith met her gaze steadily. She felt a blur, a disconnection, and remembered Willow's face from another moment, another time. Fear, and anger, and righteousness.

You did try to kill me...

Faith had held a knife to her throat, and Willow's expression had been the same.

"You gotta admit it's weird," Xander said, tromping all over the silence. "First Will and Tara, now you two? Were they handing out the naughty crack at the Bronze last night?" He appeared to think about that for a moment, then gave a dopey grin. "And why wasn't I invited?"

"That is not fair, Buffy," Willow said.

"I'm so, so sorry, Will," Buffy said. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you--"

"Oh, gee, well then, that makes it not too late at all," Willow said. "I think I left a book open. Excuse me." She turned around and headed for the living room.

Buffy was right behind her. "Wait--Willow--"

"Whoa. Am I the only one the clue train missed at the station?" Xander asked.

Faith shook her head, just as bewildered. Willow shouldn't be having any problems about the fact that Buffy had been with her...unless they were problems due to the fact that it was her. Last night Willow had started to seem almost friendly. And Faith had fallen for it. The more she remembered, though, the more she couldn't believe that Willow would ever forgive her. And maybe that's what she was talking to Buffy about right now.

"I-it's not you, Faith," Tara said, putting a hand on her arm. "Don't think that."

"What, you read minds as well as auras now?" Faith asked roughly.

"No...but faces." Tara glanced at Xander, then back to Faith. "M-maybe we should go somewhere else...let them talk."

Xander shrugged. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." He glanced out the front window. "And if it's not perfect timing for G-man and the Bookmobile."

They all helped Giles cart in his loads of books relating to transformations and consciousness exchanges. Faith watched blankly as the others dove into researching, feeling out of place. She could hear the low murmur of Buffy's and Willow's voices through the wall, and started to jack up the super-hearing.

Xander slapped her arm.

"What?"

"After four years as a Scooby, I know that look," he hissed.

"What look?"

"Buffy's 'I can hear you breathing from the next room' look." Xander gave her a concerned glance, fiddling with his book. "I think Tara's right. It's not about you. So don't."

Faith glared at him--another tried and true Buffy expression. She didn't want to admit how lost she felt when Buffy wasn't with her. There was nothing familiar left, and the clamor in her mind kept throwing images up, sights she didn't want to relive, broken, angry memories. Why today? Why did everything seem to want to come rushing back now--now that things had changed? Now that she was building new memories. Faith didn't Buffy just because she felt safe. She should be able to be strong on her own. It seemed like she used to be able to separate herself from situations. Use anger or sex so that she wouldn't have to admit to being scared. Now that defense was gone. She cared. She was more confused than ever, but she knew that last night with Buffy wasn't a mistake. And she certainly didn't want Buffy to be with her only because she felt guilty, or whatever the hell was motivating her. Faith didn't know what was going on with Buffy, and it left her adrift.

"So...how did...um...I mean, you and..." Xander gave various eyebrow wiggles and finger-flicks to finish his question. "I mean, again, resident Scooby, did not see it coming."

Faith raised an eyebrow at him.

Xander waited for a second, then shrugged. "Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?" he sighed. He obviously didn't expect her to crack and spill details.

"She makes me remember good stuff about myself," Faith said.

Giles looked up mildly from his books, pushing his glasses up his nose. Tara smiled softly behind the veil of her hair. For an instant, Faith wished she hadn't said anything. She didn't have the automatic lock on her thoughts any more, the shut-up-or-they'll-know valve. But she found she didn't mind them knowing. They already knew about the sex, or the kissing at least, so why make herself look bad in their eyes by recalling the person she'd been before? The cleavagey and slutty Faith they thought they all knew?

Xander blinked, then suddenly grinned. "That's of the good, then."

"Yeah." Faith met Giles' eyes. He was still an unknown quantity. She hadn't really had the time to get to know him. He seemed to take the news that she and Buffy were together pretty calmly. "It is."

Giles steepled his fingers. "As long as you're prepared to remember that when you regain your full memory, Faith, I shan't worry."

"Why? You think I'll go berserk?" Faith glanced around at all of them. "You're all still freaked that I might, aren't you?"

"How much do you remember, Faith?" Giles asked. He looked at her steadily, not in disbelief but not with a whole lot of confidence either. "Enough to know whether our concerns are groundless?"

Faith broke his gaze and stared down at the tabletop. "I don't know. All I can see is pictures...maybe what I felt...and not even you guys, mainly. Stuff from when I was a kid, I guess." And none of it pleasant. She supposed she didn't need to add that. They probably already knew.

Tara tilted her head and studied her. "May I--look at you again? All of you?"

Xander's grin grew about three times. Faith punched his arm, pulling it a little. "I think she means my aura, Xan."

Tara blushed and ducked behind her hair.

"Sorry, Tara," Xander said.

"And it's fine." Faith stood up and moved around the table so that Tara had a full view. "What are you looking for?"

"I-I think I'll know w-when I f-find it," Tara said, still stuttering after Xander's teasing.

Faith shrugged and stood still. Tara peered at her--not directly, but as though there was a surface above her skin, a flickering shadow-shape only she could see. Tara's eyes softened and lost focus. Her breathing slowed and became deep and regular. She stood up and reached out to Faith, raising a hand as though to stroke it down her shoulder to her arm. Faith watched, but didn't flinch. Tara's hand curved, but didn't quite touch her. Tara ran her fingers down from Faith's head, pausing over her stomach, then moving away. Each time, she would reach for a different point on Faith's body, coming within an inch or two, and then her hand would flow towards a point just below Faith's ribs on the left-hand side.

Tara blinked, and took a quick breath. "Here," she said, the one word more certain and confident than anything Faith had heard her say.

"What is it, Tara?" Giles asked. He'd taken his glasses off and had watched the entire procedure intently.

"A...a darkness. A wrongness." Tara sat down again, quickly. Her legs had become to shaky for her to stand.

"Tar? Are you all right?" Faith asked, seeing the tremor in Tara's hand as she brushed the hair back from her face.

"I'm fine. I-I just...I had to go deeper than I expected." Tara shivered slightly.

"Xander, could you perhaps put on a pot of tea?" Giles asked. He knelt in front of Tara. "Are you saying that Faith's coma was not merely a matter of her injuries? That there is something more fundamentally wrong?"

Tara nodded, a quick jerk of her head. "It feels like a blockage. I don't think it's as strong as it was last night...the fracture doesn't spread as far."

"That must be why Faith is regaining some of her memories," Giles said.

"What does it mean?" Faith asked, pressing a hand against the spot Tara had indicated. The exact spot where the knife-scar was on her body. Buffy had given that to her. Faith knew that, although she couldn't remember it yet...only that sense of falling, and the sound of rain. Under her top, on Buffy's body, there was nothing but smooth skin. How had Tara known?

"It means," Giles said, "that you cannot heal entirely on your own. There may have been some improvement, some vector that aided you last night, but essentially, if your soul does not mend, then you will die."

"Cheerful," Faith said, trying to sound unaffected. She felt sick, her stomach clenching.

"However," Giles said, "if we can narrow down the causative factor that helped you..."

"Yeah, like maybe some of that sweet hot monkey lovin' with Buffy!" called Xander from the kitchen. He came back to the table carrying a teapot and a mug already well-dosed with honey for Tara.

"Xander--" Giles removed his glasses and glared.

"I know, stop joking and keep it in my pants," Xander said.

"No. You may be right." Giles nearly shuddered as he said the words. "This soul-fracture, along with the exchange of consciousnesses, may have been far more complicated than we realized at first. If Buffy's soul and Faith's are entwined, and they engaged in an act...as deep, and as meaningful...as making love, then perhaps..." Giles cleared his throat and shrugged. "Buffy's soul could have triggered the healing process."

Tara, holding her tea carefully in both hands, nodded. "It could help us find a cure," she said.

Faith sat down again in front of the piles of books. She already owed so much to Buffy...and now Buffy was the only thing standing between her and dying? She didn't want that. Last night, she'd kissed Buffy on her own terms. She'd wanted something and she went straight for it. Now it was getting messed up by all this soul-stuff. Almost...dirty. Like it wasn't about them anymore.

Giles started pouring tea for the rest of them. Everyone had fallen silent, thinking about the implications of what Tara had found.

Willow and Buffy walked back into the room. Faith looked up immediately. Buffy's eyes were a bit swollen, and Willow seemed way more subdued than she had been earlier. Willow immediately went to sit next to Tara. Buffy waited in the doorway for a moment, her eyes meeting Faith's. Faith smiled before she knew she was doing it, an invitation. It was easier to be open, easier to show what she felt. And...even if the wound in her soul came from Buffy's hand, from her knife, from their fight...Faith couldn't let that stop her. She didn't remember it! She couldn't imagine it; the hatred between them, whatever had caused them to throw down like that. What she remembered was last night...every detail, every moment. That was what mattered.

Buffy came around the table and took the chair next to her. "I kind of freaked when Willow told me about Tara," she said softly, in a voice pitched for Faith's hearing only. "I was awful to her, because I was scared." Buffy's eyes went to the two witches, who were also talking in soft whispers. "So when Tara told her about us..." She shrugged.

"There's an us?" Faith asked. It was the first question that popped into her head, following hard on thinking about whether she loved Buffy...and whether she still would, still could, when she had her memory back.

Buffy glanced at her quickly. "I don't know...is there?"

Faith started to say...something...and stopped. "I don't know," she admitted. She glanced across the table. Willow and Tara were staring deep into each other's eyes, as if it didn't matter that the world was going on about its business around them. Tara seemed to glow with happiness, and Willow's half-smile took it in and returned it just as much. That was love, Faith supposed. Whatever memories were returning to her certainly didn't include anything of the sort. Lust, yes, and friendship maybe...

"I trust you," she heard Willow whisper, and then, on Tara's objection, "I. Trust. You."

Tara's smile at hearing those words was beautiful.

Faith sighed and sank down in her chair. Buffy had given her a lot of trust...enough to let them come together last night, enough to tell her friends about it. Enough to send her douche-bag boyfriend packing. But Faith had heard her in the kitchen this morning, talking to Joyce. Buffy couldn't let go of their past.

None of them could, not yet. They were all waiting for the moment when the old Faith would emerge. They said they forgave her, but every time there was a silent "for now" attached to their words.

And Faith couldn't offer them anything better. She knew what she wanted. She knew she could love Buffy, maybe did love Buffy. But without knowing who she was and where she came from, what could that love possibly be worth? Two days together, one night in each other's arms. That was nothing compared to eight months in a coma because of Buffy, to a year spent fighting with her and against her. The only true thing between them was the Slayer connection.

Right now, it hurt.

"We think we can do it," Willow said, turning slightly to address everyone.

"Do what, precisely?" Giles asked, looking up from his volume and taking a sip of his tea.

"There's a sp-spell," Tara said. "A conjuring..."

"We can find a way to put Buffy and Faith back where they belong, and maybe help Faith at the same time," Willow said. She smiled at Tara. "Tara wants me to anchor her while she finds the missing piece of Faith's soul on the ethereal plane. Then, we use it in an exchange spell...poof!"

"N-no actual poof," Tara clarified. "It's more of a light."

"Does that mean Faith's amnesia will be gone?" Xander asked. He darted a quick, anxious look at Faith.

Faith stared straight back at him. "Still worried, champ?"

"It's not like it's your fault that you don't know if you'll want to murder us," Xander offered helpfully.

Buffy whapped him upside the head.

"Um, okay, I'm guessing too much time having conversations with Anya."

Willow snorted. "You have conversations with her?"

"Hey!" Xander grimaced. "You know what I mean. Remembery Faith could be Enraged Faith. You don't know."

"I know," said Buffy. Faith caught her breath. Buffy sounded so certain.

Xander opened his mouth again. Giles eyed him and gave a small shake of his head. Xander shrugged. "Well, I guess somebody had to say it."

"Like you did with Angel," Buffy said. "Spare me, Xander. We know the risks. I'm willing to take them. Just because Faith remembers last year doesn't mean she'll forget the past two days."

Faith smiled again--it was just too easy in Buffy's body--and caught her hand below the table. This was Buffy's trust. This was a gift.

"I won't forget," she said. Promising. Buffy's fingers trailing against hers, the tingle of skin on skin, warm, shivery, wonderful.

"Is there any danger in performing this conjuration?" Giles asked.

Tara glanced at Willow. Willow's chin lifted. "A little," she said. "Not like the books locked in your filing cabinets. But some."

Giles frowned at her, then turned his gaze on Tara. "I don't suppose it would make any difference if I asked if you'd thought this through?" he asked. "The ethereal plane is not one reached lightly."

"I can do it," Tara said, softly but firmly. "If I have Willow."

Giles sighed. "Then we had best make our preparations."

"We just need a place where we can be private, and quiet," Willow said. "It won't take long."

"All right," Giles said. "But be aware I will be nearby, and if I sense any distress--"

"You'll come charging to the rescue. We know." Willow grinned impishly at him. "Thanks, Giles."

Faith watched the group bustle around, gathering books together, grabbing spices and herbs for Tara's spell. Again, she was the outsider, not a Scooby, not knowing what she was supposed to do. But Buffy sat beside her, as if she didn't have a part to play either...or as if she was making the most of this time before Faith-the-enemy returned. She didn't let go of Faith's hand, the small strokes of her fingers over Faith's palm sending amazing sparks of feeling through her. Willow and Tara disappeared upstairs to Joyce's room, where they figured there would be enough room to cast their circles of protection, while still leaving them some privacy. Buffy and Faith waited, Faith still and quiet, focusing on the touch of Buffy's hand; Buffy, nervous, fidgeting, glancing from clock to doorway to Faith.

"Usually I just get them to point me at stuff to kill," Buffy said finally. She looked sideways at Faith. "Are you worried?"

Faith looked down at their linked hands. "Hell, yeah."

"You know I said you hadn't changed..." Buffy squeezed her hand until Faith looked up again. "It's true. But, Faith?"

"What?"

"You don't need to. You're not someone else. You made some mistakes, so did I..." Buffy's free hand fell to rest on her stomach, on the knife wound. The old soul-scar that came from being enemies too long. "Don't stop being you just because..."

"Just because of you?" Faith asked.

Buffy nodded, tears blurring the darkness of her eyes, the secrets there. "I'm not trying to change you."

"I would, you know." Faith focused on their hands, on drawing patterns on silky skin. Her skin, soon to be hers again. For now, she had Buffy's body, Buffy's easy, open mind. "For you."

"Faith..."

Giles entered the room, clearing his throat loudly. "Willow and Tara are ready."

Faith waited to see if Buffy would finish her sentence, but Buffy just stood and headed for the living room. When they were seated, Willow handed Buffy a glowing orb that fit into her palm.

"It's just like the Mayor's gadget," she said. "All you have to do is touch it together."

"Are you ready?" Buffy asked, meeting Faith's eyes. Dark eyes where there should be green. Faith closed her eyes for a moment, searching through memories, holding tight to this moment. What if she hated Buffy? What if there was no chance, no possibility? What if she really was a monster, a murderer, a psycho bitch?

Buffy trusted her. Hold on to that.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm not the one who knows what she's missing."

Buffy took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, holding out her hand. "On three?"

"One," Faith said, and grabbed hold.

The green glow in Buffy's hand expanded, like a sphere of light, until Faith's eyes burned and she had to close them. She concentrated on the feel of Buffy's palm, warm and soft against hers, fingers entwined. She squeezed, and Buffy squeezed back, and it was the last thing she felt. Brilliant light washed over them, erasing them, sending them flying into nothingness.

Faith remembered the sound of thunder, the hiss of rain, the cold damp seeping through her clothes and leaving her shivering. She remembered hating. She remembered fear. She remembered pain, punches and kicks and slamming into walls. Buffy, attached to her by handcuffs, dragging at her, death in her eyes. Buffy, with a jagged knife in her hands. Blood and pain like acid, steel sliding under her ribs, Buffy's eyes hurt-scared-shocked, and the gasp on her lips.

"Should have been there, B. Quite a ride..."

Faith remembered falling, backwards into empty space, falling and wondering if it would ever end, if she could ever pay enough for what she'd done. Falling into dreams.

She remembered Buffy's lips against her forehead, and her whispered, "Thank you."

Without a body, without a thought, Faith died into emptiness; and she remembered.

She remembered it all.

*

To be continued.