True Faith

Yes, yes, it's been forever and a half. But I had a nice vacation, so it's all good. Look! More!

*

Buffy scrambled off Tru's lap and leapt to the floor, seeming to forget her own nudity as she stared at Faith. Tru sat up, snatching her shirt of the floor and yanking it back on, her face flaming. She wanted to run and hide, anything but face the look of utter disbelief on the face that was so like her own, but she couldn't move. They were all frozen, Faith clutching the door handle she'd broken off, Buffy and Tru trying to be as invisible as possible.

Then, slowly, Buffy turned and looked at Tru. Her mouth gaped open, like she was trying to say something, but no sounds emerged. She backed away from the bed, her eyes wide with horror, as if Tru were some sort of monster. Her chest heaved with her harsh breathing, and it sounded like she was about to cry.

Oh, God, what had she done?

Tru leaned forward, keeping one eye carefully on Faith. She had stepped into the room, the door swinging shut behind her, though it couldn't latch. The shock was fading from her face, and something darker was taking its place. Tru could hardly even look at her--it hurt to even see that much anger and despair on her own features.

"You--you're not--" Buffy had finally found her voice.

"Buffy..." Tru couldn't force out another word. There was no way she could explain this. She'd known it was wrong and she'd done it anyway. She'd pretended, and she'd made excuses, but there was no way she could rationalize her way out of this. She'd deceived Buffy, made her nothing better than a victim, when she was supposed to be saving her life.

There was a huge crash, and they both turned back to the doorway. Faith had thrown the handle, and it had smashed right through the drywall and nearly into the next room. Her expression didn't show a thing now--it was tight and composed--but her black eyes blazed with rage.

Buffy shook her head, tiny denials, refusing to believe what was before her eyes. "Faith--"

"Put your fucking shirt on, B." The voice--Tru now knew why Willod bed believed she was Faith on the phone--was empty of emotion, almost conversational, but Faith's arm muscles kept knotting every time she clenched and released her fists.

Buffy's pallor melted under the sudden heat of her blush, and she bent over to retrieve her shirt, her fingers clumsy on the buttons. Faith turned her glare on Tru.

"This is why you didn't want anybody knowing where you were going on vacation, huh?" she asked. She was staring at Tru, but her words ignored her completely. Her eyes flickered over to Buffy for a moment, until Buffy managed to pull her shirt together. "So you could fuck me without ever getting near me?"

Buffy's hands dropped from the last buttonhole, her shirt fastened crookedly. "Get near you?" she asked incredulously. She flushed a deeper red, more angry than embarrassed now. "When did I have a chance, Faith? When we were on battle readiness for five weeks straight? When I was mortally injured by the First? When you left with Robin?"

Faith twisted slowly to look at her. "You know when," she said softly--the words seemed to hit Buffy like a slap--and Faith spun on her heel to leave the room.

"Wait!"

Tru could hardly believe that it was her voice calling Faith back. Both of them turned back to her, and Tru finally felt like she knew what a Slayer was--it was all there in those deadly, dangerous stares. Neither of them had any reason to trust her, or even listen to her, but she still had to try.

"You can't go out there. You'll be killed."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Faith asked. Buffy crossed her arms and said nothing, but Tru knew she wanted answers to the same question.

"My name is Tru Davies," she said. "I'm here to save your life." Right, because that was believable. Tru winced at the sound of it, but there was really nothing left for her to say except the truth. She would do what she could to stop Buffy from getting hurt by the vampires, or whoever the murderer at Memorial Gardens cemetary was, and Buffy would go back to her life. She would live, at least, even if she hated Tru. And it seemed likely she would.

"Tru Davies." Buffy's voice was flat and disbelieving. "And you just happened to know all about me, and you look exactly like Faith, and you knew how to act like her. To trick me." She glanced at Faith. "To hurt me."

"You might not believe me--"

Anger flashed in Buffy's eyes. "You'd be surprised what I'd believe."

Tru nodded. "We met yesterday--"

Buffy cut her off. "I wasn't even in Vancouver yesterday."

"You're right." Tru finally felt the beginning of anger herself. She may have hurt Buffy, but strictly speaking they hadn't done anything wrong--Buffy wasn't with Faith; Tru wasn't with anyone; they were both adults. "If you would listen to me, I'd explain."

Buffy and Faith exchanged looks--silently asking each other whether Tru was worth their time. All their anger was dismissed for that moment, as if it was that easy for them to trust each other, no matter how upset they were.

"Something happens to me," Tru said, pushing ahead. "I don't know if it's magic, or Fate, or what. But sometimes, people brought into the morgue--dead people--they talk to me--"

"You speak to dead people?" Buffy asked sharply.

"The First," Faith said, looking like she wanted to spit. "I thought we got rid of it." She narrowed her eyes at Tru. "Doesn't explain how she looks like me. I never died. And it looked like she was pretty touchable a few minutes ago."

Buffy looked like she was about to rise to Faith's bait, but Tru interrupted. "What are you talking about? The first what?"

"Evil," Buffy said. "And yes, she's corporeal. For what that's worth."

"It's not evil, what happens to me," Tru said. "People ask for my help, and I go back in time. I save them--stop them from dying before their time."

"And you figured a little unnngh would save her?" Faith gave a humourless chuckle and shook her head. "I've been saying that for years."

Tru tried to ignore the bitterness in Faith's voice. "No. I'm saying Buffy died--"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Fuck, B, are you trying to set a record?"

"--and she asked for my help. So the day rewound. The first time, I met Buffy, and she told me about herself. That's how I knew that if anything could keep her out of the graveyard, it would be Faith."

"You were the one who called Willow?" Faith demanded.

Tru didn't answer. Buffy was looking ashen, her arms crossed more for protection than with anger. "I'm sorry, Buffy. Yesterday--today--I thought--" No. She couldn't burden Buffy with knowing how they had almost-- No. "Nine people died. You were with me in the morgue. You thought it was vampires. You left--and you were killed."

Tears were sliding slowly down Buffy's face, though she was silent, seeming to be carved from ice.

Faith relaxed a fraction, and almost reached out to Buffy before pulling back. "B, it's not gonna happen."

Buffy wasn't listening. "You thought saving me was worth it," she whispered to Tru. "Saving me...for this." Her fists tightened at her sides. Faith grabbed for her hand, but Buffy threw her off. Faith tackled her again. They struggled sharply for no more than a moment, the movements coming too quickly for Tru to see what was happening, and then Faith was pushed to the floor and Buffy had fled, leaving the broken door swinging behind her.


*

To be continued. No, really.