Buffy POV

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"Right," her voice catches a little and she turns away. Probably hoping I won't notice she's upset. Heh. Yeah, right. Like that's possible…

"Hey." Faith…shifting cloth and metal fasteners on my belt clicking on the coffee table alert her to my change of position. She stiffens slightly, but I don't notice any less. Kneeling at her side, I try not to think about the scant space between my fingertips and her breast as I reach for her shoulder. This? SO not the time…. Fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of her neck, I can't help but marvel at how soft her hair is. "What's the matter?" Dammit...this isn't getting me anywhere. Rising slightly from the floor, I settle on the edge of the couch, frowning at the glisten of tears in her eyes. "Faith?" I can't resist the urge to lean in slightly. I wish you would talk to me…

Her face crumples in seconds, hand sharp against my shoulder pushing me away as she avoids my gaze. "I think I'm gonna be sick," she mutters, pulling away and scrambling off the couch. She's moving a lot better than just hours before.

The soft murmur of voices stops at the sight of Faith limping past the kitchen as fast as she can. "Why was she limping?" Giles asks, staring down the short hallway after her. "Buffy? What happened?"

"I dunno…" And I feel helpless because I don't know… "She didn't mention anything about her leg being injured at the cemetery. She collapsed when we first came in, maybe it happened then? Ugh…" I'm too tired to even bother trying to keep the worry out of my voice. They can probably tell, anyway. Oh God! Is that what happened? I bet that's what happened. She probably knows I – oh my god this is not good. Not at all. Shi-!

"Buffy!" Giles' voice breaks through my thoughts, my head snapping up from my hands. The shocked looks on his and Ms. Calendar's faces are all I need to know I had been talking out loud.

"Oh, God." My voice squeaks and I bury my face in my hands, mortified at the room's revelation of my feelings for Faith. For Faith. Oh my God, what am I gonna do??

"Buffy, I-I can assure you -" Giles' characteristic stutter is the last straw.

"I'll be right back," I blurt out, shooting to my feet.

"Wh-what about Faith?" He asks, a healthy tinge of red staining his cheeks. Probably since I started babbling…oh my god, this is bad.

"I…will go check on her later. She probably needs some time to cool off." I know I do…I don't bother waiting for…anything, from either of them, before turning and heading straight for the front door.

The cool air hitting my skin as soon as the door opens is a relief, though the lightening tint of the sky only serves to remind me of how tired I am.

The dark and brooding figure that breaks away from the shadows definitely doesn't help matters, though. Angel…sometimes, you have the worst timing. Ever.

"Buffy?" Calendar asks, puzzled.

Giles' deeper, gravelly voice chimes in, "Buffy, you-you don't look so good, did something happen outside?"

I don't bother replying, sagging against Giles' front door. Why can't this whole thing be over and done with? Why do I have to get all Melissa Etheridge now? And Angel…ugh… "I'm fine." Giles' hand on my arm jolts me from my thoughts, blurting the words out automatically.

"Are you sure? You-you seem a little pale…" he trails off as I step past him, shrugging off his hand.

"I'm fine," I mutter again, not meeting his eyes.

Calendar steps in front of me, blocking the hallway. "Here," she hands me a small bottle full of what looks like homemade hand lotion. "It's for the bruises and cuts; it'll help them heal faster."

Taking the potion wordlessly, I hurry down the hallway, away from their prying eyes. If I thought that was anxiety, it's nothing to what I'm feeling now, standing outside the bathroom door.

"Faith?" I murmur, cautiously.

No answer, even after knocking.

Taking a deep breath, my hand hesitates over the door knob. The knob rattles when I finally grab it, frustrated. I only just remember to hold back, not wanting to snap it clean off. The door swings open to reveal Faith lying curled up asleep on the floor, topless, her back to the door.

Bruises and cuts fan across her back, turning formerly-smooth, cream-colored skin dozens of shades of purple, blue and red, making my chest hurt as though I forgot to breathe.

Torn between waking her and watching her sleep, I step into the room, closing the door silently behind me.

I crouch behind her for a closer look at her wounds – or is it just to be closer? A matching set of thin, raised welts flows across her back in swirls and curly-cues. The knife…The sight of a spider from the Box of Gavrock pinned to the cafeteria wall flashes in my mind. When did they go back and get it? I can't help thinking, confused.

Bruises on her waist form the shadow of a hand, fingers spread and, just above that, a fist. Her spine is dotted with nickel-sized welts, one right after the other from the base of her neck to the top of her blood-spattered jeans…"that fucking bastard."

The words come out louder than I meant them too; Faith groans, stirring for a second before going stock-still. "What the fuck are you doing in here, B?" she rasps. "You ever heard of knocking?" acid drips from her voice, but I'm too exhausted to take the bait.

"Calendar wants you to put some of this stuff on your cuts and bruises." It might not be the best thing to say right now, but it's the all I can think of with her laying half-naked in front of me. The bottle clicks gently on the tile and I get up to leave, unsure of what else to say.

Faith sighs at the rattle of the doorknob. "B, wait," she says, resignedly. "I can't put that stuff on by myself."

My chest constricts painfully at the words, the unspoken I need help and the idea of sitting there, caressing her back when –

"Buffy?" Faith groans, the tiny click of metal on tile as she moves and all I can think is when was the last time she said my full name? My hands are shaking as I wipe my eyes, wondering if she can tell I'm shaking and crying. If she even cares.

End ch. 3