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Night after night it was the same.

Wait up to an hour for a doctor or a nurse to take her up to Faith's room and tell her nothing at all. Buffy shifted in the hard plastic seat and leaned her face in her hands to count the tiles on the floor. Eighteen squares before the pattern repeated. Same as yesterday and the day before. Same sounds of the day winding down in a hospital. Same smells, same dread in the air.

And then when they finally showed her into the room, close to the end of visiting hours, Buffy always just stood there, silently, wondering why she had come.

That thing is a Slayer, thought Buffy. That thing with no makeup, still showing bruises that should have healed days ago. That thing that somehow looked no older then ten, lying unconscious and stuck full of wires and tubes. That tiny helpless thing was a Slayer. A dead Slayer.

Slayers didn't think about dying. Not all the time, not head-on. There were other dangerous jobs out there, sure... but Slayer was one that guaranteed you would never get a "3" in front of your age. Probable never a "2" even. So to keep fighting, you didn't think about it. You thought about your power instead. You made yourself feel invincible. Buffy knew Faith did the same... to an even more reckless degree!

And then one day you find a Slayer you called a friend, lying in a pool of blood. A warrior with the same strength and speed as you, now looking like like nothing more than a dead little girl. Kendra. Dead by Drusilla's hand.

The image of Kendra's body haunted Buffy's dreams when she ran away to L.A. Now there was a worse image to dwell on. Faith. Worse because this time, Buffy herself was the killer.

How long will she be like this before she's truly gone? wondered Buffy. A day? A week?

The doctor looked at Faith's chart and was shaking her head even before Buffy could form a question. "I'm sorry, Ms. Summers," said Dr. Newsom, letting her reading glasses fall on their cord, "There's really no change in your friend since yesterday. It's amazing that there's been as much healing as there has, after such severe trauma. We're starting to gain some ground against the infections. But her brain is damaged even more severely than we thought." The doctor shook her head. "I just hope they catch the monster that did this."

Faith had lost three quarters of her blood, and that alone would have caused permanent brain damage. Buffy's stab had nearly destroyed Faith's liver and a kidney, and cut Faith's aorta. A death blow, even for a Slayer. The doctors had relayed these horrible details, unaware that Faith's self-proclaimed "friend" was in fact her killer. And if that wasn't enough, Faith had also jumped off a building and broken both legs, her pelvis, an arm, nine vertebrae, eleven ribs, and her skull. Jumped to save herself from a murderer.

From me.

She's a murderer, too. Why doesn't that make me feel any better?

Now Buffy knew what she was capable of, and it was like seeing her true self for the first time in her life. She didn't like what she saw.

"Give us a kiss," Faith had taunted, knowing she was facing a fight to the death. She'd seen it coming long before Buffy did. "You kill me, you become me! And I don't think you're ready for that. Yet." Faith had been right. When Buffy was finally ready, she became what she loathed most about Faith.

But unlike her, I know I've got to pay for what I've done.

Buffy thought again about turning herself in to the police–she could confess right now, to the policeman waiting outside Faith's door. There was always one there, standing guard. It struck Buffy as a ridiculous waste of money–this criminal would never escape her coma, much less the law. And how had they tracked the professor's murder to Faith anyway? Buffy sometimes thought the police presence wasn't for Faith at all. It was for her. Sometimes Buffy was sure the guard knew what she had done. Was waiting silently, patiently, for Buffy to confess.

But if anything, going to prison would be too easy. Later, maybe, when Faith was gone. But right now, for reasons she could not explain, Buffy felt she should be here, facing what she had done.

As the doctor left, Buffy stopped her, and pointed to the IV bag. "That IV thingie. It's on the wrong side. It used to be on the left."

"We have to use both arms. That's normal."

"Oh."

Faith would die, they said, if she was taken off the machines and the medicine drips. One day soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, she would die anyway.

Until then, Buffy would keep coming. The last person she'd want around. But she doesn't know I'm here anyway.

Tubes in her nose, needles in her arms, and a catheter under her flimsy white gown. Yet she looked peaceful, not in pain. Faith struck Buffy as oddly beautiful in her vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," whispered Buffy, leaning in close to the only person she hated more than herself. She kissed Faith's forehead and left.

Night after night it was the same.

 

---

 

Buffy held Faith awkwardly, cradling her in arms full of needle marks.

She pulled up her shirt to let the baby suckle. Because it was cheaper than buying milk, and nobody would take the baby. Her baby. Shit. What a joke.

The state money didn't go all that far after all, and it sure as hell didn't make up for all the sleepless nights. For the shit on the bathroom floor, on everything. Adoption sounded pretty damn good, but Buffy couldn't wait that long. She wanted the thing out of her life now. And she wanted cash in return.

Someone'll take her. I'll keep asking around. Maybe one of the guys Jake knows. I'll get good money for this thing real soon now. A lot more than the twenty bucks I got the night some dickhead left the damned thing in me. All I wanted was enough for one tiny fix. Look what I got!

The thing sucked eagerly at Buffy's nipple. It hurt, and it annoyed her. She knew her milk was half poison, but there wasn't much of it to be had anyway. All she could hope for was to shut the disgusting parasite up for an hour or so. If it won't sleep, I'll just turn the TV up again and pretend I can't hear the screams.

Buffy slowly surfaced from her dream. The baby was still suckling hungrily, but Buffy began to realize she was not Faith's mother. She was herself. And somewhere between sleeping and waking, she had the impression that the Faith sucking on her breast was the real Faith, not an infant but a teenager.

The idea stayed with her as she came fully awake. Troubled, she pulled on a sweater and went down to sit on the back porch steps. She breathed the cool air and tried to forget the nightmare. I liked the Little Miss Muffet dreams a whole lot better.

 

---

 

"Buffy! Good morning. How nice to see you." Giles climbed up from his piles of books and boxes.

"Getting the stuff from the library all squared away?"

"I seem to be making some gradual headway. And you? Putting high school behind you must be quite satisfying, but I'm sure you've been patrolling still."

Buffy nodded. "Almost every night after... after hanging out with the gang."

An awkward silence fell. Giles cleared off a chair for Buffy. "I take it you're not here to help alphabetize Makreg's Chronicles of the Nether Planes."

Buffy shrugged. "I have... kind of a weird question."

"And I happen to have numerous volumes of weird answers."

Buffy smiled weakly. "Do you think this coma thing... I mean, I'm the one who killed her... Faith... do you think there could be come kind of link between us? Like some Slayer thing?"

Giles frowned. "Highly doubtful. She hasn't shown any signs of recovery has she?"

"No... I mean, it's not like I check up on her or anything. But they said she was hurt pretty bad, right?"

"She is not expected to recover. Buffy, I hope you're not–"

"Please, I've been through this with Willow a dozen times. Not again. What I did wasn't right. I know it, and I think you know it too."

"Buffy... I don't believe you deserve the remorse you are putting yourself through. We all make mistakes."

"Yeah... we all stab someone to death sooner or later."

"Faith certainly did."

"Well I'm a lot more like her than anyone wants to admit, aren't I? Giles, I've been having dreams."

"You told me. You think Faith told you how to defeat the Mayor."

"Yeah. That's what I think."

"That wasn't Faith," said Giles gently. "That was your dream about Faith. And as I recall, what she told you was rather vague, even by dream standards."

"That's how Slayer vision thingies are sometimes, right?"

"I suppose so."

"Well the dreams are changing. Making more sense. What if they're coming from her? What if it's her dreams I'm in? What if I'm dreaming things that really happened?"

"I understand your need to forge a connection and alleviate your feelings of guilt. But there's a much simpler explanation: the dreams come from you."

Buffy nodded. Giles was probably right. "I guess Faith was just a baby in these new dreams... so cute!" She thought a while. "But still... somewhere, down deep, maybe she could remember. Maybe."

"Faith could remember when she was a baby. And make you dream about it."

"I don't mean on purpose, but maybe I'm dreaming what she dreams... I don't know. I guess it sounds silly... it just feels so real!"

"Let me ask you something, Buffy. Don't think it over, just answer. What do you feel about Faith? Not about your fight, or what you yourself did... about Faith?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "I hate her. She betrayed me. I wish she was never born."

Giles took off his glasses. "Have you thought that before?"

Buffy sighed. "I think it all the time."

"That you wish Faith had never been born?"

"Yes! I know it makes me an even worse person. But that's the truth. I wish I'd never met her. I wish she'd never been born."

"And now you're having dreams of her infancy."

Buffy froze for a minute, than looked at Giles sheepishly. "Could it be that simple?"

Giles nodded. "I believe so. The dreams are important. A Slayer's always are. But not because they come from her. Because they come from you. What's important is to deal with the feelings behind your dreams. In the end, only time may be able to do that. Your best course is to focus on the future, not the past."

"I guess you're probably right. I just wish I could know for sure... I mean, if Little Miss Muffet suddenly comes along, I'll know they're real visions, right?" Buffy joked.

Giles smiled. "Nobody quite understands the role of a Slayer's visions."

Buffy thought about this. "So Faith and I could be connected. In our dreams. For all anyone knows."

Giles looked skeptical. "I can't disprove it."

"I just can't help wondering..."

"But someone else might be able to disprove it."

"How?"

"Buffy, I think you need to go to the hospital and talk to Faith's doctors. Ask them if she's even able to dream."

 

---

 

Although Buffy felt no desire to celebrate, she could no longer avoid Willow's invitations to the Bronze. So she had to make her daily hospital visit early.

She'd rather visit in the evening and not be seen. Besides, the nighttime was the time that belonged to Slayers. But at least this would be a good time to question the doctors. She couldn't shake the idea that her dreams might somehow be a connection with Faith.

"I only have a minute," said Dr. Newsom, "There's really no news about Faith. Her brain function is a little worse each day, but you know to expect that."

"I know... I just had a quick question." Buffy swallowed. "Can someone in a coma dream?" She held her breath.

"Well, yes... people sometimes awake from comas recalling dreams–"

"Really?" Buffy was relieved. She didn't know why, but nightmares or no, she wanted a connection with Faith to at least be possible. It felt right.

"But Buffy... not Faith. One coma is not like another. Faith's brain is too far damaged. She has shown no signs of REM, and her brainwaves... in layman's terms, she's not brain dead yet, but she's very close."

Buffy's heart sank. "So she can't think or dream or feel... anything."

"She responds to some stimuli. Reflexes. Not on any higher level."

Buffy's lip trembled. Why did this upset her so much? Faith was dying, what did it matter? She blurted out the question that she'd been afraid to ask before. "Can... she feel pain?"

The doctor shrugged. "Comas can be a bit of a gray area, Buffy. They're not fully understood, and Faith's is not a typical case. But if I had to venture an explanation... she can probably feel pain, but not understand it. I'm sorry I can't give you a better answer than that."

"But you're giving her pain killers, right?"

"Only low dosages. Not enough to damage her brain functions any further. We try to strike a balance."

"Is she suffering?"

"I don't know how to answer that, Buffy. I don't think she's feeling much of anything. But if she's experiencing anything, it will all be over soon. Now I have to go, but feel free to go up and visit her."

So Faith was in pain, maybe all the time, and the dreams were no more than Buffy's own guilt. Buffy moved slowly down the hall, almost afraid to see Faith now.

She hated the hospital in daytime even more than at night. The bustle and noise and light seemed jarring and wrong with Faith lying in her coma. To Buffy it seemed disrespectful... even hurtful.

Even worse were all the visitors. It seemed like everyone had visitors coming and going... Friends, family... laughing, talking, maybe even crying... but there. Caring. But of course nobody visiting Faith. Unless Buffy counted herself. And the policemen–always one of the same two officers standing guard. But nobody who was a friend.

And even when she passed a patient resting alone in silence, there were books, sympathy cards set out by the bed... or if nothing else, flowers. Even the unconscious patients all seemed to have flowers.

Maybe, thought Buffy as she stood at Faith's side, they don't take good care of people who don't have flowers. They think nobody cares. A tear rolled down her cheek. And they're right. Nobody in the world cares about Faith. Nobody even knows her last name.

As Buffy was leaving the hospital, she noticed the open gift shop. Rows of flowers inside the door. She walked over slowly. Maybe she should buy flowers for Faith's room, to make the nurses think someone cared. Buffy felt like she ought to make sure her victim got the best care.

She stood for a long time in front of the flower display, a haunted look on her face. The bouquets all had teddy bears, or big smiley faces on sticks. The thought of a big smiley face on the shelf next to a dying Slayer struck her as horrible. "They all say 'Get Well'..."

Buffy wasn't aware she had whispered that aloud, until the shop attendant came over. "Can I help you find something?" he asked gently.

Buffy's brow furrowed as she slowly put words to the tragic question in her mind. "What about people who aren't ever going to get well?"

"There are more over here." The young man solemnly led her to a larger display. Equally cheery signs and balloons, but some did not say "Get Well." Buffy shook her head, finding herself at a loss.

"Is this for a parent? We have..." The attendant gestured toward some with syrupy messages to Moms and Dads.

Buffy shook her head, tears welling up.

"A sibling...? A friend?"

Buffy shook her head again. The attendant looked concerned but said nothing more.

After a while, Buffy asked, "What do you have for someone I don't even care about?"

 

To be continued...

 

I always appreciate comments in my Guestbook and email. If you'd like to be notified when I post new chapters and stories, let me know.

If you have enjoyed this story, try I Have Never Been to Boston. Dawn sets out to say goodbye to someone she loves–but who she knows never even existed!

 

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