The Plan

Sitting on a pile of mats on the floor, Buffy was watching intently something she’d never seen. Something legendary in the demon world. Spike and a Slayer fighting.

Earlier, Sire and Childe had been training with Steven, the boy having insisted despite his still painful hangover. It had been quickly evident that he risked getting hurt if they kept on, so they had managed to convince him to give up for the day. Why the kid loved to spar so much, Buffy had no idea. She liked it herself, certainly, but not to the point of begging for it, especially when she wasn’t feeling well. And, of course, her training sessions with Steven were quite different from her sessions with Spike, which she definitely preferred. With the first, it was business. Fights, pure and simple, to practice new moves or teach them to the kid. With her Sire, it was…a dance. There was just no other word for it. She had denied it when he had first voiced it, years back, but even then, it was true. The reason why they had never killed each other, despite the numerous opportunities they had had, was simply that they had never fought. Always, they had danced. And Buffy couldn’t help feeling an immense satisfaction as she watched Spike and Faith. With her, he was not dancing. He was fighting, just like he did with Steven.

The brunette had appeared in the training room just as Steven was leaving it. She had said something about needing to keep in shape if she was to escape the Council’s killers. After a quick glance toward Buffy, Spike had literally pounced on Faith, which she obviously had not been expecting, and placed one arm around her neck, his other hand pressed flat against her temple.

“If I wanted you dead,” he had said, a boasting whisper in the immobilized girl’s ear, “your neck would be broken by now.”

With that, he had pushed Faith away from him with that insufferable grin on his face. The brunette had turned to him, angry and obviously ready to show him what she could do. That had been half an hour before. They had been trading blows continuously since.

Buffy knew both of them enough to realize that neither was fighting to their full potential. Spike rarely did, except when she was his opponent. But Faith…? Was she hiding her strength or had years in jail eroded her fighting skills? Strangely, too, they fought without the usual sarcastic chatter she knew both used to unnerve opponents.

Since neither was giving the maximum, they were mostly evenly matched, and neither was gaining a clear advantage. Buffy was finally getting tired of the show, and as they paused, each poised for attack and observing their adversary, she cleared her voice and said:

“How about taking a break now? Faith and I need to talk.”

Faith didn’t break the stance until Spike did. Buffy could hear her heartbeat, very fast, but gradually returning to an almost normal rhythm. Almost, but not quite.

“You’ve made your decision about the Council and me?” she asked warily.

The still slightly too rapid heartbeat and the tone of her voice were enough for Buffy to realize that Faith was nervous. The brunette didn’t know what to expect, and it seemed that she feared the worse. As well she might. However, she appeared not to want to show her nervousness. She sat down on the floor, ignoring Spike who was still standing a few feet from her, and started doing stretching exercises, all the while looking at Buffy as she waited for her to answer.

“Yes,” the blonde Slayer said at last. “I have reached a decision. Not an easy one, but the only solution I can think of to both your problem and ours.”

Faith didn’t say a word, though she seemed to tense a little, and Buffy heard her heart start to race again.

“As long as the Council doesn’t have a new Slayer to play with,” Buffy continued, “they will be after you and after me, as well, for not taking care of you. And you know the only way for a Slayer to be called is for you to die.”

Faith froze at the words, her gaze quickly going from Buffy to Spike. She expected an attack, and she expected it from him. Spike only smirked as he seemed to realize that too, not moving an inch, still towering over Faith.

“If I wanted you dead,” he repeated his earlier statement, “your neck would be broken by now.”

That didn’t seem to reassure Faith at all, as she got to her feet and slowly moved away from both blondes.

“Just because you have to die doesn’t mean you have to stay dead,” Buffy said quietly, a small smile flitting across her lips.

Faith stopped backing away then, and again her eyes traveled between Buffy and Spike. This time however, she let out a short, cold laugh.

“Maybe you enjoy being a vamp, Buff, but I’m not letting either of you turn me.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise at the fierce declaration. Not because Faith had thought of a solution different from hers, one she would have never considered. Rather, she was surprised because Faith had just revealed she knew Buffy was a vampire, while nothing in her behavior had shown that so far.

“When did you figure it out?” Buffy asked, surprised by how inexpressive her voice was.

Faith shrugged. “Since you came to my room. Before that, with blondie and Angel around, I suspected but I wasn’t sure.”

Buffy nodded, a bit troubled by the admission. Faith knew, and yet she acted as if nothing had changed. Did it make no difference to her?

“As I said,” the brunette continued, “I don’t care if that’s your trip. But it’s not mine.”

Buffy had the sudden impulse to tell her that, no, it wasn’t something she particularly liked, just a necessity to keep existing. But she didn’t say anything. It was none of Faith’s business, and Spike probably wouldn’t be happy about hearing it.

“Turning you isn’t the plan. It’s a bit too…definitive. All we need is for your heart to stop beating for an instant, nothing more.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Faith asked with a surprisingly calm voice after a few seconds of silence.

“My idea was to drown you, then resuscitate you with CPR. But if you have a better…”

“Are you insane?!”

Angel strode in the room, eyes wide and horrified. For once, he seemed more surprised than angry. A pleasant change… Buffy was about to tell him to mind his own business and, by Spike’s look, he was ready to say the same thing. But Faith beat them both. She faced Angel, looking more serious than Buffy had ever seen her, a hand raised in a calming gesture.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, Angel, and I got to the same conclusion as Buffy. The only way I’ll get free of the Council is when they think I’m dead. And the only proof they will accept is a new Slayer being called.”

“You’re talking about your own death!” Angel protested. “There must be another way!”

Ignoring him, Faith returned her attention to Buffy, who was finally rising from the floor.

“Drowned… Isn’t that how you died?”

Buffy nodded. “The first time, yes.”

“So,” Faith said with a half grin, crossing her arms under her breast, “you want me to die like you did. Very touching. But tell me one thing. How do I know for sure that you’ll really revive me?”

It was Spike who answered, his voice a mix of arrogance and impatience.

“Have you forgotten already I could have killed you earlier? Why would we go through all this trouble if we just wanted to kill you? There are faster ways than drowning, more satisfying for vampires too.”

At that, he smiled maliciously and ran the tip of his tongue on his bottom lip, and Buffy thought she saw Faith shiver.

“I can’t believe you’re both OK with that!” Angel said heatedly, looking from Buffy to Faith and dismissing Spike in the process. “And anyway, you forgot one little thing. Vampires don’t breathe. Who would revive Faith?”

Doubt flashed across both Slayers’ faces, neither having thought of that detail. Spike, however, laughed out loud at his Sire’s remark, causing him as well as the women to look at him with varying degrees of annoyance or puzzlement. He fished out his cigarettes and lighter from the breast pocket of his shirt and lit one ostentatiously, making a show of taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke in Angel’s direction.

“No need to breath, Peaches,” he said with amusement. “Just need to inhale and exhale. Like with smoking. And how do you figure you talk, if no air passes through you? How about all these sighs, gasps, pants, all these little reflexes that never go away even if we don’t need air?”

He was addressing Angel, but Buffy saw him glance at Faith as he talked, and realized his speech was for her, too. If she didn’t trust them, the plan could be so much more difficult. Thankfully, the brunette seemed reassured by the demonstration. Angel, however, did not relent.

“This is still the most stupid idea I’ve ever heard. And as long as you’re all my guests I won’t let you do it.”

Faith snorted. “Like I want to die in your bathtub anyway. I appreciate your concern, Soulboy, but really, it’s not your decision to make. It’s mine. And as crazy as it sounds, it also sounds like it can work.”

A smile slowly bloomed on Buffy’s lips. If anyone had ever told her that one day she and Faith would agree on something, she would have laughed hard enough to cry.

“So,” she asked with a grin, “when and where do you want to die?”