Spike roared with laughter while Buffy giggled until her stomach hurt. “Oh my god, that has to be the best story ever!”
Faith grinned, laughter bubbling over. “No, please, the best fucking story is when Spike and Angel decided that the needed to finish off the fruit of the day at school.”
Spike sputtered, “Bloody hell! He told you ‘bout that?”
At his expression alone, Buffy burst into fresh peals of laughter. Oh, it felt so good to smile and laugh that she didn’t even mind that it was all an illusion brought on by tequila.
“I’ll tell it,” Faith said with authority, and stood up with quivering legs. “So, Angel and dumbass here were drunk and wondering all around St. James. This was before they had girlfriends so they felt it was their fucking obligation to finish off what the chefs had left over,” she paused for an effect, her lips already twitching, “peaches.”
Buffy frowned. “Is this how he got the nickname Peaches?” she asked with a slur.
“Oh yeah,” Faith replied, grinning madly. “They dared each other to eat as much as possible and since Spike is a wormy wimp…”
“Hey!” Spike interjected defensively.
“And Angel,” Faith continued, “never backs down from a challenge, the hardheaded ass. The friggin’ contest ended with Angel clutching the toilet bowl.”
“It was the most bloody disgusting stuff,” Spike added. “Orange globs just came oozing out of mouth like a soddin’ waterfall.”
“Ewwww!” Buffy squealed, laughing until she was gasping for air. Faith joined her with hiccupping giggles, slumping against the blonde’s shoulder.
“All right,” Spike grumbled good-naturedly and then chuckled. “Now, let’s tell the numerous tales of Faith.”
“Like hell!” She slapped his shoulder and simultaneously took a gulp of tequila. The bottle was mostly gone now.
Buffy straightened, frowning at her sister-in-law. “Did you make with the pranks too?”
“No.” Faith rolled her eyes, flopping back on the couch. “It’s all sex, B.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, a flush staining her cheeks. There was a limit to how much she needed to know about Faith and her sexual conquests.
Spike grew quiet and stared down at the near empty bottle in his hands. Glancing between the two, Buffy wondered if they had slept together. She then flushed again at thinking of the two of them in that way.
“What ‘bout you, B?” Faith asked, “Any sordid stories for us?”
She felt their eyes on her and suddenly fat tears slid down her cheeks. “No,” she answered quietly, eyes trained on her bare toes. “Angel was it. He was the one.”
As Faith’s arms, warm and sticky, wrapped around her, Buffy saw Spike back away and disappear with a light click shut of the apartment door. They sat like that for a while on the couch before pulling away.
“Jesus,” Faith sniffed, “you’re turnin’ me into a wuss.”
Buffy let out a broken laugh. “You? My eyes are dried out from crying.” She wiped at her tears fruitlessly. “I miss him so much it hurts so badly,” she whispered.
“Me too, B. Me too,” Faith murmured, and they slouched, shoulder-to-shoulder on the worn couch until they drifted off, eyes weighed down with sleep and too much to drink.
***********
Spokes of sunlight streamed in through the window, rousing Buffy painfully. She groaned, pressing her palm to her head. Beside her, she heard Faith mumble something before moaning into a pillow.
As Buffy’s eyes adjusted, she saw that the bottle of tequila was sitting on the floor, empty like she suspected.
“Coffee?”
With an agonizing nod, Buffy agreed before shutting her eyes again. The previous night came back to her in blurry bits and pieces, and she sighed long. When was the last time she had gotten this drunk? Had she ever?
Vaguely she remembered Spike leaving, and wondered how he drove home after all that to drink.
Rolling onto her side, Buffy stood up gingerly, holding her head against the wave of pain, her stomach rebelling as she walked towards the kitchen area.
“Here.” Faith pushed a ceramic cup of coffee in front her.
Buffy tried to ignore the smell as she took tiny baby sips. Two tiny pills appeared, and she swallowed them quickly. “Thanks,” she murmured to her sister-in-law.
“No prob,” Faith replied, her voice hoarse. “I gotta get ready for work. Last official day and all.”
At this, Buffy felt her stomach revolt. She gulped to keep from throwing up. “Oh,” she said faintly, “I forgot about that.” Looking around, she noticed that before the drinking began, Faith had packed away most of her things in nondescript boxes.
“Listen, I’m coming home a couple hours early, we’ll do something. TJ’s maybe?” The brunette offered, naming a local diner with the classic fake red leather booths and breakfast all day.
Buffy shrugged as an answer, letting hot coffee slosh in her mouth.
“I gotta go get dressed, dammit,” Faith swore, taking a gulp of coffee and dumping the rest in the sink.
“I think I’m gonna…” Buffy trailed off, half-heartedly pointing to the couch. She took another sip from her cup before stumbling back to the couch and curling up in fetal position. It didn’t take long for her eyes drift shut.
********
“Buffy…Buffy…”
“Hmm…” Buffy stirred, her eyes fluttering open drowsily. A moment went by before she recognized the man who was shaking her shoulder. “Spike?”
“’lo, Faith here?”
Buffy struggled to sit up, sleep still fogging her brain. “Uh…no…what time is it?”
“One, luv.” Spike’s low, accented voice soothed her aching brain.
Blinking, Buffy frowned, looking around. “How’d you get in?” She saw over his shoulder that the door was not busted open.
“Faith told me where the spare key was yesterday,” Spike explained and then added, “you were there.”
“Yeah, well.” She suddenly felt sheepish being so disheveled. “I’m kinda missing some stuff…or it’s all blurry, I can’t really tell yet.”
Spike nodded somewhat sympathetically. “A bottle of tequila will do that. Listen, tell Faith I stopped by and we need to talk, yeah?”
Buffy nodded, and then regretted it. “Ow,” she mumbled, watching him walk back out the door, shutting it softly. She tried to fall back to sleep, but her eyes wouldn’t close. Instead, she stood up and found the Advil, taking two more pills.
She wandered around the apartment, clutching a glass of water. Faith had taken most of her things down, and in her bedroom, the bed was stripped bare. Buffy then stepped into the bathroom and saw Faith’s hair products were still in the shower caddy and located a clean towel easily.
Quickly, Buffy slipped off rumpled and rank clothing and got into the shower, letting the tepid water sluice over her body. She twisted the knob, making the water hot enough to turn her skin pink. Titling her face to the spray, Buffy felt tears trail down her temples and merge with the water.
It felt like it was all she ever did. Cry until her eyes burned.
Angry and frustrated, she slammed her hand on the shower knob, turning the water off. She toweled her hair and body roughly even though it stung. She was running her fingers through her hair as a poor substitute for a brush, when Faith’s voice echoed in the petite apartment.
“I’m in the bathroom!” Buffy yelled back and jumped when the door flew open.
“TJ’s?” Faith questioned, looking wild-eyed.
“Yeah…” Buffy wrapped her towel around her tighter. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Faith said too quickly. “You can borrow my clothes if you want, B. They’re in the box by the closet.” She spun on her heel and vanished out the door.
Buffy frowned but followed her sister-in-law’s instructions. She managed to find a pair of dressy black pants and then slipped her shirt on again. Tying her back in a neat bun at the base of her neck, Buffy stared hard at her reflection. Her face was too thin and wan, like the life had been sucked out. And it had, hadn’t it?
“You ready?” Faith asked, her head poking around the door.
“Yep, let’s go,” Buffy answered and then remembered, “Oh, um, Spike stopped by earlier. I guess he was looking for you.”
“Right, yeah. I talked to him just before I got here. It’s cool,” Faith told her, already out the front door.
Buffy grabbed her tiny purse as they walked out into the vivid sunlight, two pale women dressed in all black.
Thankfully, TJ’s was only a block down and across and vacant at two o’clock in the afternoon. They found their favorite booth and slid in, the plastic leather cracking.
“Jesus, when was the last time we came here?” Faith wondered out loud, shrugging off her blazer.
Buffy picked up the menu, holding it high. “It was you, me and…and Angel. I think we were celebrating a case of his.” Her voice cracked agonizingly. “I can’t remember which one.”
Faith let out a shaky exhale. “Suddenly I’m not so fuckin’ hungry anymore,” she mumbled, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
As if a magic trick, the waitress appeared and told her in monotone, “You can’t smoke in here.”
With a snarling smirk, Faith responded, “I wasn’t gonna.” She turned to Buffy. “B, you know what you want?”
“Um…just a coffee and a piece of toast, lightly buttered,” Buffy replied to the waitress and set her menu down.
“That’s it?” Faith asked with a skeptical look and let it go after Buffy nodded. “Fine. Then, I’ll have the blueberry pancakes, syrup on the side.”
“Blueberry or regular?” the waitress asked, tapping her pad.
“Blueberry,” Faith answered easily. “Thanks…Mary Alice.” She read of the nametag slowly.
The waitress ignored her and said to Buffy, “Your food’ll be out in a coupla minutes.”
Once the waitress was occupied with next table, Buffy said, “Kinda bitchy much?” Her tone was light enough so Faith wouldn’t be overly offended.
“Shitty day,” was Faith’s retort as she emptied a sugar packet in her cup. As soon as she did so, the waitress returned and silently poured them full cups of coffee.
Buffy dumped cream and two packets of Equal in hers before taking a sip. “What happened? I thought with the whole last day thing it would’ve been…”
“Yeah,” Faith muttered, “you’d think.” She drummed the unlit cigarette against the rim of her cup. Their silence drew out for another minute before Faith spoke again, “I think…we need to meet with the lawyer before I leave.”
Buffy swallowed, her coffee tasting bitter in her mouth. “The will.”
“Yeah,” Faith said and added, “sorry. It sucks but we gotta get it over with. I figure most goes to you. A little to me, maybe.”
“We should go to the house,” Buffy announced, surprised that she was the one to bring up the dreaded task. “We should go, and I should get my stuff. If there’s anything you want, take it. I know we have—“ she stopped cold feeling tears clog her throat again.
“B, it’s cool, we don’t have to do it now if you’re not five by five,” Faith reassured her, patting her limp hand.
“I meant had,” Buffy said, drawing up from strength she didn’t know she had. “We had a lot of stuff in the attic and some in the basement. I don’t even know half of what all that crap is.”
The waitress returned and dropped their plates of food in front of them, and they clattered slightly. Buffy nibbled on her toast, watching Faith cut her pancakes into tiny pieces, the blueberries bleeding dark indigo juice.
“Okay,” Faith replied, breaking the long pause. “We’ll go on Sunday.”