Je me souviens

Hmm, been a while, yeah? This part hated me for about a week. Tonight, I think I love it.

Chapter Thirteen

*

Buffy stared at Faith, hardly aware that anyone else was in the room. They were both silent except for the sound of their breathing--something Buffy was distinctly grateful she could do with her own lungs again. She realized their hands were still clasped. Willow's conjured ball of light was gone. Faith stared right back, and Buffy couldn't help but think how beautiful she was--black eyes you could fall into endlessly, full lips soft enough to kiss forever, the hint of a cleft in her chin, and the wanton fall of dark hair. The body switch had worked. Buffy was definitely herself again, so Faith must be, too. But there was no sign that Faith had regained her memory.

Oh God, we've broken her, we've broken her brain, Buffy thought, as the silence stretched and Faith did nothing, said nothing. Faith's eyes were wide and dark, with a look of almost childlike surprise. In Faith's body, Buffy had always been compelled to act, to move, anything but stillness. A hard, cold lump settled in her stomach. Faith looked like a hurt animal, like a feral cat that would hiss and scratch and run rather than let anyone help her. Buffy knew--finally she understood--what Faith felt.

They'll hurt me so I have to hurt them first. They'll leave me so I'd better start running.

Buffy remembered this morning, watching Faith sleep. Adrenaline had settled on her like a second skin, every instinct screaming at her to get away before it was too late. The cold, nauseous fear of rejection--the endless guilt that flashed too easily to fury. That was what Faith dealt with all the time. Last year, Buffy had been so sure that since she could control herself, Faith should be able to as well. God, what a self-righteous bitch she'd been! Twenty-four hours in Faith's body had turned her whole life upside down. Buffy had stomped on Riley's feelings, taken advantage of Faith's vulnerability, and came out to her friends with barely a second thought. She'd left herself totally open, defenseless, if Faith hated her now. Buffy's heart thudded, frantic and hurtful. What if Faith wanted to kill her? What if Faith ran?

Worst of all, what if Faith never wanted to be with her again?

I'll love her anyway, she thought, with a forlorn certainty. Even if she kills me, even if we fight. I love her. Last night, her control had barely allowed her to lay down next to Faith. But she had. She stayed. No matter what Faith's body told her, Buffy knew she had to take a chance and trust Faith. Trust that Faith wouldn't hurt her. For Faith, it might not be that easy. She might lash out instead, try to free herself from restraints. Get some, get gone. Run. And even so, seeing Faith now--frightened, confused--only made Buffy want her more.

Buffy searched Faith's eyes, looking for the affection and warmth that had been there before they switched back. Please, Faith, she thought, please forgive me. Please stay.

If Faith heard, she didn't answer. Her eyes flickered to their hands, still clasped in front of them, like they'd been glued together during a high-five. Small tan hands with coral pink nails. Long, delicate fingers too thin after eight months in a coma. The same hands. The same tender touch. Buffy felt the faint tingle of their connection: warmsafe, wantyou, you are like me, you are mine. When Faith looked up again, the confusion was gone. Her eyes were shuttered, as if she'd pulled a shade down and hidden herself behind it. She looked confident, almost arrogant. There was the tiniest trace of a sneer on her face, the same one Buffy remembered from when Faith dared her to chase vampires into a sewer. Buffy gasped, soft as a sigh, like a last breath before crying.

The others hadn't noticed anything was wrong yet. Xander watched them solemnly, looking for some sign as to whether the switch had worked. Willow was practically quivering with suppressed excitement. She gawked at Buffy and Faith, looking like she was dying to ask if her spell had worked. She knew better than to interrupt. She'd gotten between the two Slayers before. Tara frowned slightly, eyes worried and concerned, but she wasn't watching their faces. She stared at Faith's stomach, as if she could see through the cloth to the scar beneath. Of all of them, only Giles was watching Buffy. When she saw Faith's expression change--when Faith's surprise and uncertainty faded to defensive contempt--Giles closed his eyes, and his shoulders sagged.

Faith dropped her hand, their first movement since the spell. Buffy felt her heart reach into her throat to choke her. She tried to shake her head, deny this was happening. Faith's eyes were wild beneath her surface calm. Buffy wanted to say something, reassure her, but she couldn't speak through the lump in her throat.

Faith tensed slowly, her muscles rippling, shifting her center of balance forward until she was poised over the balls of her feet. To anyone but a Slayer, it would look like she'd barely moved. To Buffy, it was obvious what she was doing. Faith maneuvered for position until, even though she was still sitting on the couch, she was completely prepared to attack, defend, or run. Buffy knew she could match Faith's action just as subtly. They could circle for the advantage without ever standing up. But doing that could destroy whatever fragile trust Faith was still clinging to. She hadn't tried anything yet. Faith was testing to see if Buffy would try to stop her. But Buffy didn't want to fight, and she didn't want to drive Faith away.

She remembered last year, on Faith's rooftop. Buffy could nearly feel the weight of Faith's knife in her palm. Starlight glittered along the blade, and as Buffy turned it in her hand, it caught the glow of the moon, like quicksilver. They were there again: Faith poised on the edge of the roof, and Buffy with a knife in her hand.

Except this time Buffy wasn't driven by rage. Love and fear churned inside her, each one stealing her breath and leaving her trembling. And she knew, all too well, what would happen if Faith let herself fall.

When it happened, everything fell apart at once. The door opened, and Mom walked in, a paper bag of groceries in her hand. "I'm back," she called, leaning into the living room. "And I brought Twinkies."

Xander leapt to his feet with a startled "eep!", sending his chair tumbling over. Giles started stuttering out an explanation before he'd fully turned to see who had entered. Tara gasped, wrenching her eyes away from Faith's stomach. Faith was standing in the doorway before anyone but Buffy had seen her move.

Buffy stayed where she was.

The tone of the room changed in an instant: from eager, cautious observers to frightened hostages. Buffy glanced at Willow and Tara, huddled together; Tara shivering and speechless, and Willow glaring at Faith as if it was her fault. Xander's flinch turned to defensive anger. Giles looked to Buffy to lead them--to guide their reactions. She couldn't do anything. The sense of standing on the edge of a cliff was stronger, as if Faith was waiting for Buffy to push her off. Mom, uncertain, turned to Faith, touching her arm, and asked cautiously, "Buffy?"

Faith shrugged away her hand. "Not this time."

Her voice: Buffy had been the last person to speak with it, but she'd never realized how powerful it was. Faith used it like a weapon, jagged and dangerous, every word just a little bit harder, contemptuous, pushing away any kindness. Any weakness.

"Faith," Buffy said, and her voice was too high, tight and controlled, and Faith's name came out like an accusation. Why did she sound like that? Why couldn't she say the words she knew were there? You don't need to change. It was never your fault. I want you to stay. Oh, God, please stay.

I love you.

The cliff was crumbling beneath her feet. Faith looked like an enemy. She was so hard, and cold as steel, anger burning bright in her like a diamond shining in the night.

What had changed? Were Faith's memories really so terrible? Did she hate Buffy that much? Then where did last night come from? Faith had kissed her. Faith had loved her.

And before? All those months of Faith watching her, eyes wandering, lazy half-smile on her face. Faith's teasing, Faith's sly jabs and innuendo, the way they had danced together, like they were the only two people in the world--

Was Faith thinking of that? Of last night--the slow, exploding heat between them, the way it should have been, the way Buffy still wanted it to be. The way they'd woken up together, small sleepy sighs and soft touches, smiling into each other's eyes. Buffy's breath hitched with silent tears. Had Faith lost that, somehow? She'd promised she would remember! She couldn't just toss last night aside, as though it was a mistake, as though it was nothing...


"What is going on?" Mom asked, searching everyone's faces for an explanation, and getting none. "Why are you all acting like Faith is suddenly your enemy?"

"Because I am," Faith said, not taking her eyes off Buffy. "Isn't that right? No matter how much you wanted to think I wasn't. Nice try, B, but it was never gonna work."

Everybody watched Buffy, waiting for her to speak, to tell them how to act, how to handle this new Faith. They'd only forgiven her halfway, and what the hell did that even mean? If you forgave somebody, you couldn't go back on it, you couldn't keep bringing up the past. Say something! her mind screamed, but the huge aching lump in her throat wouldn't let her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and behind Faith's anger she saw a flash of disappointment that hurt worse than a thousand knife cuts.

"Yeah," Faith said, disgusted, after a long moment. "That's what I thought."

And before anyone could stop her, she ran.

The door banged shut behind her. The silence lasted for a split second longer, and then everyone started to talk. Giles tried to explain to Mom what had happened while she was gone. Willow asked Tara what was wrong, and Tara shook her head, unable to answer. Xander picked up his chair, babbling the whole time about how if he never got zapped by a body-altering spell it would still be an eon or three too soon.

Buffy stood up and walked to the door, Faith's words still ringing in her mind. Did she really believe they could never make things work? Faith with her memories back would have no reason to trust her. Buffy had let her down too often. She'd shied away from being Faith's friend because she was worried that Faith might try to make it more than that. And Faith had hurt her, too--tried to pin Finch's murder on her, tried to steal Angel's soul--if she really did care for Buffy, if last night really meant something, then she must be feeling the guilt of all those betrayals. Every fight, every disappointment.

It wasn't Faith's fault she couldn't handle it. None of them had been able to prepare her for what her memory would hold. Faith had always been so independent, so stand-offish about her past--none of them knew what she was facing right now.

And Buffy wasn't going to let Faith's memory destroy her. She opened the door. Faith was nowhere in sight. With Slayer speed, there was no reason she should be. Everyone in the living room was still arguing. Xander calmed himself with a therapeutic Twinkie. Tara was the only one looking in her direction. Silent and calm, she raised her eyebrows, asking Buffy why she was still here. Buffy smiled at her. Through the chaos of the Scoobies' argument, Tara was encouraging her to go and find Faith.

Buffy slipped out of the house, closing the door softly behind her. She closed her eyes. Two nights ago, hunting vampires, she had felt Faith's presence: the strength of her, the surprise that gave way to fierce longing, the heat of their connection. Faith had followed her by the muted hum of their Slayer-tingles. Buffy pushed down her own feelings and searched for Faith the same way. She opened up to the part of herself that knew, without understanding, where Faith was.

Maybe it shouldn't have surprised her that it was Faith's old apartment.

The building, on the outside, was worn down and dirty, edging the factory district on one side and tenements on the other. Inside, even the stairways and elevators looked old, with chipped paint and cracked plaster. Buffy trailed a fingertip over the rough brickwork. The last time she'd come here, she'd expected Faith's apartment to be as dingy as her motel room. It had crossed Buffy's mind to feel sorry for her, despite the fact that she'd come to kill her. And, even with Faith's knife in her hand and Angel's blood on her sleeves, she had paused here long enough for regrets. The lobby seemed built for them, dim and dusty like old memories.

Buffy climbed the stairs. It wasn't that she didn't trust the elevator so much as that she was retracing her steps. Eight months ago she'd come this way, knife in her hand and murder in her heart. Giving herself over to rage because if she allowed herself to calm down, she'd know she didn't want this, didn't want Faith's death. She only wanted Faith to come back to her. To come home.

Seeing that the Mayor had completely remodeled the apartment had been a shock. Seeing Faith acting completely at home there had been worse. It had helped, at the time--helped her to be angry, helped her to be cold.

Now, pushing the door open in the last of the afternoon light, everything had changed. The apartment was empty. No furniture, no large-screen TV, no stereo system. Golden light, sliding through the wide bay window, lit the dust motes floating in the air. Canvas had been stretched over the frame where the window was smashed, but someone had peeled away the duct tape, and now it flapped in the breeze.

Buffy stepped over the railing in front of the window seat and brushed the canvas aside. Faith stood on the stone railing, staring down, as if she could chart her own fall to the road below if only she looked hard enough. Buffy climbed out onto the balcony, silent as only a Slayer can be, but Faith knew she was there anyway. It was something Buffy never thought about before: how much their connection meant. Or was it that it was stronger now? Buffy had always been aware of Faith's nearness, and when they touched she felt the soaring fever of her skin. Maybe only now did she realize what it meant.

"Where's Angel?"

Buffy lifted her head at Faith's question, low and sudden. She wanted to scream at her to get down, but she answered calmly instead. "In L.A. He left just after--after Graduation."

"You see him much?"

"Once. To confirm it was over."

"Love of your life. Soulmate, remember? Gone like that." Faith raised her chin and stared away over the rooftops. "Traded him in for Captain Cardboard."

"I didn't exactly trade..." Buffy stopped. They were falling into the old pattern, Faith goading her with tactless honesty and making her tense and defensive. This wasn't really about Riley, or Angel for that matter. "I think we just finally realized that he's going to live forever, and I'm really, really not."

"And I'm a Slayer, so you figured I'd at least be someone to die with."

Buffy shook her head. "No. I wanted someone to live with."

"And now you've left soldier-boy for me, is that it?" Faith let out a snort of unamused laughter. "I can't say I'm liking the progression, here."

Buffy stepped over to the barrier and leaned against it, so that she could look up into Faith's face. She still wanted nothing more than for Faith to get down, away from the edge. Faith didn't look like she was going to jump, but at least if Buffy stood here she could pull her back if she tried. "I didn't break up with Riley for you," she said. "I did it for me. I didn't love him."

Faith smiled, distantly. "But you do love me." She said it flatly, but Buffy could hear the question in her voice.

"I do," Buffy said softly, studying the railing, Faith's boots beside her.

"Bullshit!" Faith was suddenly loud, and her voice cracked. "Bullshit, Buffy, because two days out of a coma means nothing, not one fucking thing. You don't love me. You love the me who doesn't remember the way we fucked each other over last year."

"I'm not the one who forgot what you did! Or what I did. And I didn't fall in love with you in two days, either. I just--" Buffy paused, wondering what she had done. "I forgave you."

Faith crossed her arms. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me. I didn't then and I don't now."

"It's not pity, Faith." Buffy gripped the stone in front of her until she felt the mortar starting to crumble. "You never knew the difference."

"And you never knew when to back the fuck off." Faith glared down at her.

Buffy glared right back. Faith was holding up her walls as best she could, but Buffy had lived in her body. She knew the signs, and she knew how hard it was not to let everything come rushing out. It was so easy to be angry, for Faith. So easy to just keep pushing.

"You kissed me first," she reminded Faith, suddenly smiling. Last night she'd been the one denying it. Faith's mouth against hers, the quick mingle of their breaths, had shocked her. Not the action, but her instant response. She drew in a breath. Faith's lips had tasted so good, the wet glide of her tongue catching against hers, until they were wrapped together so tight Buffy was sure they still hadn't let go.

Faith's face flushed and her breathing was quick and light. "Why'd you do it, anyway?" she asked, nearly whispering.

Buffy turned around, so that she could lean back against the warm stone. Faith was gorgeous in the sunset, all dusky skin and glowing eyes. Buffy couldn't help but smile. It wasn't her smile--it was the ghost of Faith's leer, so familiar from the face she'd worn for the past day. "You know why," she said, letting her eyes trail down Faith's body.

"You were--I was horny," Faith said. "So you finally got it, huh?"

"You always feel that much?" Buffy asked, as if she didn't know, hadn't felt it. "That's--I don't know. Scary. Amazing. How do you...control it?"

"Badly." Faith let out a breath. "Buffy, you know I always wanted you--even when I didn't know I always wanted you, I wanted you. God. I--I can't--"

"It's all right. I know..." Buffy wanted to reach out to touch Faith, to hold her. She smiled to herself. She wanted more than that. She wanted to kiss Faith, to melt into her the way they had last night. This time, in their own bodies...for real, this time. For them. Staring at Faith, her lips slightly parted, Buffy shivered and let a sigh escape her lips, nearly a moan.

Faith closed her eyes and shuddered. "Don't."

"You're here. I'm here." Buffy gave in to her desire and let a finger run down the back of Faith's calf. This wasn't like her at all, but maybe she'd learned something from Faith's body. They were alive today. They were here. Buffy wanted her; she wanted Faith to stay, and maybe this was the only way to convince her. Maybe, if Faith had learned something in return, she would finally open up...and give up the idea of running.

Faith caught her breath. "I held a knife to Willow's throat," she said, like she was reciting a list. "I nearly strangled Xander while I was raping him. I poisoned Angel. I--"

"Faith..."

"I remember that stuff now, Buffy. I can't pretend it didn't happen! You can't forgive me for that!" Faith kicked a rock off the roof-edge. It shattered a window across the street.

"I can," Buffy said. "You had no idea what was happening for the past two days. We switched bodies and fought vampires. You could have freaked out but you didn't. You helped me! That's who you are, Faith." She touched Faith's calf again, softly, feeling their connection buzz through her fingertip. "That's who I fell in love with. Not your mistakes."

Faith's shoulders drooped, falling out of her tense, defensive stance. "All those times I flirted with you..."

"Scared the hell out of me," Buffy admitted. "It's not like I didn't notice."

Faith smiled, shakily. The sun was lower than the tops of the buildings around them, draping the balcony in twilight. Faith's eyes shone, and Buffy felt her heart squeeze. Tears...how long could it have been since Faith had cried? Had allowed herself to let anyone see?

"Come down, Faith," she said, at last, when there seemed nothing more to say.

Faith glanced down at the street below, then turned to Buffy. "You ever dream of flying?"

"Yes..." Buffy tightened her grip on the barrier. What was Faith doing?

"I never did." Faith spread her arms, a bird ready for flight. "It's a lot like falling, I bet. Except you think you're in control."

"Faith--" Buffy heard the fear in her own voice, the desperation. "Please, get down."

"You're not, though," Faith said, almost to herself. "You never are." She took a deep, uneven breath. "Buffy..."

"What?"

"I love you." Faith let her arms drop, her eyes drift shut.

Buffy felt her fear melt away. Back at the house she'd had no idea what to do, what to say to make Faith hers. Now, in the fading shadows of evening, it was easy, so easy. She leapt up beside Faith, so that they were both standing above the city with nothing between them and that awful fall. She circled Faith with her arms, buried her face on her shoulder, and let herself cry.

Faith's arms wrapped around her. Her skin was soft, and warm, and even though it had been hers for a day Buffy knew she could never have worn it this well. Faith was really Faith now, and Buffy held her as if it was the only thing making them real. Faith's shoulders shook, and Buffy felt the heat of her tears. Early this morning, in the dim cold light of dawn, Buffy had forgiven Faith, in the choice between running and staying. But until now, Faith hadn't let herself accept it.

Now, on the rooftop, with the night cool around them, Buffy sighed into Faith's neck. She brushed her lips against Faith's throat, whispering love into her skin. Faith's arms tightened around her.

"B..." she sighed, in the husky voice that was all hers, all Faith. Buffy felt her mouth, open and warm just behind her earlobe.

"Ah...oh, yes...Faith..."

Faith's tongue flickered out, tracing over the tiny, sensitive places behind her ear, along her jaw. Buffy gasped. Faith knew her body so well, and she was using that knowledge, turning Buffy's legs to water. They wobbled, and Buffy laughed breathlessly through the last of her tears. If they fell now, what would Willow and Xander think? That this had ended in another death match?

"Faith," she said again, and for once her voice came out right: husky-soft, dark with desire. "Let's get down."

"I have lots of plans that involve going down," Faith replied.

Buffy moaned. "Now...please?"

Faith's only answer was to kiss her. Buffy flowed into the kiss, forgetting the danger. Her hands wandering over just above the flare of Faith's hips, over, and then under her shirt. Then--

"Faith!"

Faith jerked back, looking suddenly apologetic. "What?"

"Take off your shirt!"

"What, now? Here?" Faith raised an eyebrow, thinking about it. "I think I love you even more."

"No--look!" Buffy tugged impatiently at Faith's t-shirt. "Feel."

Faith lifted a hand to her side, running it over her stomach. Her eyes widened. Buffy stared, touching the spot where eight months ago she'd sunk a knife deep under Faith's ribs. There was no sign of it now.

Faith's scar was gone.

*

To be continued.