Chapter Text
Buffy
She never did get the answer. Faith would do what Faith would do, and the thought terrified her. What if she leaves me? The other woman didn't look over at her as she drove with one hand lazily moving the steering wheel back and forth.
The car meandered through the forest surrounding Sunnydale, through the spaces between cemetaries, behind a wooded curtain that would block the two inside of it from seeing the worst parts of town, the poisoned parts that tasted like coal and microplastics.
Eventually it reached the store that had become a home away from home, and out of it Faith and Buffy stood. They shared a glance, held eyes like lovers held hands, and then walked to the future.
Ian Bennett, Watcher's Council Scribe
A "Scribe" was simply the title for the proletarian underclass of the watcher's council, they were apprentices under the aristocratic elite of the WC, doing roles such as copying texts, recording hearings, writing letters for carrier pigeons (who hadn't adapted well to the late 20th century's preference for airplanes), and other such tasks that the WC aristocracy would simply crumble under the weight of. The beaurocratic bones, as it were.
Ian was one such bone. He did not want to be here. Come to think of it, there was no where he'd particularly like to be, at the moment, but it definitely wasn't here. If directions were destination, he'd have caught a red-eye flight to 'Away'. Heard it was lovely, this time of year.
There were 5 teams of them. Each team had 1 Scribe to hold the camera, 1 Witch to maintain the integrity of the runes on the film and camera lens, and 1 Watcher to…. to….
"I'll say, rather dusty in here," the Watcher of Camera Team #2 said (that was Ian's), and suddenly he remembered! Eureka! The Watchers were here to dispense condescending, wholly useless fragments of opinions!
He pushed up his glasses, and the heavy frame felt like it was pushing back. This would be a long day.
They all shuffled about the place, politely looking anywhere but another human, which was rapidly becoming a drying up spatial resource. The Five Teams were arranged in a semicircle around the circular table that Quentin Travers sat opposite to Rupert Giles, the "Scoobies" arranged in little awkward constellations on the other side of the Magic Box.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock, said the grandfather clock somewhere in the building, backed up by a band of fingernails tapping away on the table as the two Watcher's repeatedly checked their watches.
Faith and Buffy walked in. Ian had never seen pictures of either, but could tell instantly which one was which just by the descriptions that he'd gathered in their dossiers. He couldn't remember which was blonde and which was brunette, but he didn't need to. Faith had all the stringy, coiled violence of an ex-con, and Buffy was the blonde who moved with a gymnast's pride and elegance in her step (or that of a cheerleader).
"Summers. Lehane." Gravelled Travers. "It's good to see you two, so healthy. We were worried about you, especially, Faith."
"I'm sure you were, you heavy metal dicks-" appallingly, that seemed to only be the start of the insult before the Summers girl cut her off and took over. They discussed how the examination would take place, Buffy standing protectively in front of Faith, Faith eyeing them like she wanted something from them. It made Ian's freckles tremble.
Buffy didn't look thrilled at the proposition of a day of observation, but at least she didn't make them look unhappy, too. Travers and Summers reached an understanding of the coming events of the day:
"In order to determine the eligibility for cooperation with the Watcher's Council amongst you and yours, the Watcher's Council must first take a detailed report of their daily routines, habits, training schedules, and abilities natural or supernatural.
We have behind me 5 teams of three, each with a cameraman, a witch, and a Watcher to act as a consultant for any and all supernatural threats that threaten the lives of the crew. Their cameras' film is inscribed with runes that prevent any lies from being recorded on the film squares, meaning that if you try to misrepresent your thoughts, feelings, or lives to the camera, it will… well, it won't be pleasant. We recommend that you don't experiment with it, as the runes are still rather volatile."
Buffy scowled at each of the teams one by one, asking which team would be following whom.
"Excellent, I was just getting to that. You will be filmed by a team all on their own, Faith Lehane and William the Bloody will be filmed by team 2, Willow Rosenburg and Tara Maclay by team 3, Xander by team 4, and Rupert and Anya by team 5, to whom I belong. We'll mostly be staying here, anyways, as far as I know. They are not to interfere whatsoever in the goings on of the participants' normal daytime activities."
Ian groaned. He was pretty sure his freckles were going to hop off his face and flee at any moment, like fleas off of a drowning dog. It was going to be a long day.
Archival Footage Transcript, Team 4
9 AM
CONSTRUCTION SITE IN SUBURBAN OUTSKIRTS, OVER WORKBENCH.
"Yep, so, that's the uh… blueprints. Where the magic happens! The ol' book and page, the reliable grimoire!"
XANDER POINTS AT AN INSTRUCTION MANUAL FOR A NAIL GUN.
"Bet you one of those would kill a vamp if you put some wood on the en-"
MAN SHOUTS OFF CAMERA IN DISTANCE
"Harris! What! In! The! FUCK! FUCK OFF WITH THE CAMERAS! I NEED MY NAILGUN"
XANDER TURNS TO CREW, DISTRESSED. SAYS SORRY, RUNS TOWARDS VOICE WITH NAIL GUN.
"Shit! Sorry Donny! Just- on my way! With the nailgun! "
XANDER OUTRUNS CREW
Archival Footage Transcript, Team 1
10 AM
B. SUMMERS, SLAYER, SITS AT ISLAND IN MIDDLE OF KITCHEN DOING HOMEWORK FOR CLASSES AT UC SUNNYDALE. DAWN SUMMERS RUMMAGES THROUGH FRIDGE.
"Dawn, can you please just figure out what you want to drink sometime this morning?"
"I did! OJ! Maybe you could help me find it?"
"For the last time, I didn't drink the orange juice, YOU drank the orange juice."
"Uh, for the last time, totally didn't!"
"Okay, well why don't you totally not drink your OJ somewhere else, preferably somewhere I'm NOT doing homework. I'm already behind on my classes, Dawn."
"Probably because you spend all your time drinking my stuff."
DAWN CLOSES FRIDGE, LEANS AGAINST IT. MILK IS LEFT OUT ON THE COUNTER. JOYCE SUMMERS IS TURNING A PAGE IN THE NEWSPAPER, DRINKING SOME COFFEE AND LEAVING THE ROOM FOR WORK.
THEY CONTINUE TO ARGUE. AUDIO FADES.
Interview Transcript : Buffy Summers
Q: HOW DO YOUR CLASSES AND REAL LIFE RESPONSIBILITIES EFFECT YOUR ABILITY TO PERFORM AS A SLAYER?
BUFFY: "I don't know where you got the idea that it somehow interferes with my slaying responsibilities— was it Dawn? Giles? Y'know what, it doesn't matter, because I don't get upset at that kind of thing! Just have to finish up this assignment and them I'm all caught up. Easy. But first, I'll just go out and get some more orange juice. Again. Since someone is taking it all."
Q: WE WEREN'T STATING ANY OPINION EITHER WAY, WE'RE SIMPLY TRYING TO ASSESS YOUR CURRENT STATE FOR THE UPCOMING BATTLE AND WISH TO ASSIST IN ANY WAY WE CAN.
BUFFY: "What, an opinion on who took the orange juice? There isn't an opinion to be had, just the facts. To be honest with you," BUFFY LOOKS AROUND, "I think it was Faith. She says she doesn't mix it with vodka or whatever, but she says a lot of things." FROM WATCHER INTERVIEWING: INAUDIBLE, "Oh, about the college and school stuff? Uhm, does that "assist" include "assisting" me with homework? Maybe? Y-you guys are good with communications stuff, right? I have this assignment on how different camera lenses put different tones on things and…"
END OF RECORDING
Interview Transcript, Dawn Summers
Q: HOW IS BUFFY HANDLING THE INCREASED WORK LOAD FROM COLLEGE?
DAWN: "Oh she's a total house of cards dude, she's gonna crumble sooner or later. Did you see how she got in there? Total spaz! Wigging out over who took the orange juice, like, chill, y'know?"
Q: WHO DO YOU THINK TOOK THE ORANGE JUICE?
DAWN: "No cl-"
DAWN STUTTERS, FROWNS, TRIES TO SAY SOMETHING.
"Is that the magic thing? Bogus. Okay fine, it was totally me, but so what!"
Q: BUFFY SEEMS TO THINK IT WAS FAITH THAT TOOK THE ORANGE JUICE. IS THERE UNDERLYING SUSPICION/DISTRUST BETWEEN THEM?
DAWN: "Ha, yeah."
SHE NODS, SMILING.
"You can get away with SO much when Buffy just blames everything on Faith. Wait, did I say that out loud? That camera is creepy! Turn it-"
END OF RECORDING
Interview Transcript, Xander Harris
Q: HOW DOES YOUR PROFESSION IN CONSTRUCTION ALLOW YOU TO BETTER ASSIST THE SLAYER?
XANDER: "Great question! It doesn't. Ha, should have seen your face when I said that. It was uh… it was exactly the same as it has been since we met. Just… just gonna move on. Anyways, uh, it gives me access to blueprints for buildings that we might be operating in, equipment that (believe it or not) can be helpful in the slayage, and just being able to fortify or build minor things that the group needs. Plus someone needs to buy takeout, so."
Q: WOULD YOU SAY THAT BUFFY IS CURRENTLY DISTRACTED?
XANDER: HE SHRUGS, SEIZES UP AS SMALL FLOATING RUNES ARE SEEN OVERHEAD (LOOKS LIKE STATIC IN RECORDING) AND HE STARTS SPEAKING INVOLUNTARILY:
"Y-yes! God! Yes. It's the worst— her and Faith have this thing which is just so weird and distracting. Did I mention distracting?"
Q: HOW SO?
XANDER: "How so? Have you seen them?"
FILM REEL SWAPS FROM XANDER IN INTERVIEW TO FOOTAGE OF BUFFY AND FAITH FIGHTING IN A CEMETERY CAPTURED LATER THAT DAY.
XANDER'S VOICE CONTINUES OVER THE BACKGROUND FOOTAGE.
"Buffy is so distracted by beating Faith half to death that the vampires are starting to feel left out. The neck marks especially, EVERY time I see Faith she has bruises on her neck, I just do my best to make those times as few and far between."
FAITH IS PUSHED AGAINST A WALL, BUFFY'S ARM IN A BAR AGAINST HER NECK. A VAMPIRE WHOM THEY WERE FIGHTING BEFORE THE ARGUMENT BEGAN SEEMS TO BE WAITING FOR THEM TO FINISH, HANDS IN POCKET, BLOWING AIR OUT OF PUFFED CHEEKS.
BUFFY GETS CLOSER TO FAITH (INTIMIDATION?) BEFORE THE VAMPIRE SAYS SOMETHING INAUDIBLE WITH AN ANNOYED EXPRESSION. HE POINTS AT THE CAMERAS, THEN AT HIS OWN CHEST, MAKES A STABBING MOTION. BUFFY AND FAITH LOOK AT CAMERAS, NOD AT HIM, AND GO OVER TO STAKE HIM. VAMPIRE LETS THEM.
"It's just weird, okay? Strange, even. Disconcerting, some would say. The more Buffy puts her in her place, the more she acts up."
AS FAITH STARTS TO RUN TOWARDS CAMERAS, THE FOOTAGE TURNS AROUND AS THE CAMERA CREW RUNS BACK TOWARDS THE VAN.
SWAP BACK TO INTERVIEW REEL VISUAL
"If you ask me, which you won't, I say lock Faith up and throw away the key. It's for her own protection, ya know, cause Buffy's gonna kill her sooner or later. More to keep the ol' Buffster OUT than keep Faith IN."
END OF RECORDING
Archival Footage Transcript, Team 2
NIGHTTIME SCENE SETTING SHOTS OF SUNNYDALE CEMETERY #15, OUTSIDE SPIKE'S MAUSOLEUM. CUT. FAITH AND SPIKE SITTING AND TRYING TO WATCH A TV SHOW, BUT STATIC AND FEEDBACK MAKE IT HARD TO WATCH.
"Rubbish fuckin' box, no matter how many times I hit it, just can't seem to… damn it." SPIKE CONTINUES TO MUTTER, STANDING WITH HIS HANDS ON HIS HIPS. IS FRUSTRATED. LOOKS AT CAMERA.
"What, ya jus' gonna stand there and not do a bloody thing to help me? Aren't you lot all camera savvy?"
FAITH ON COUCH TAKES A SIP OF A DARK LIQUID. THE WATCHER OF TEAM 2 NOTES THAT IT IS PROBABLY A RUM AND COKE.
"You know they're not gonna help us, right? And neither is sitting there banging on the fuckin' TV, because like I've been tellin' you, the issue isn't the TV, it's the reception."
"And YOU keep sayin' that like I know what the hell that means."
FAITH SIGHS. PINCHES NOSE. "Yeah, you're right. My bad. Okay, come on, I know how to fix this."
CUT.
SPIKE IS ON TOP OF MAUSOLEUM WITH SMALL SATELLITE DISH. FAITH ON GROUND LEVEL WITH A TELECOM CABLE HELD IN HER TEETH. SHE'S MESSING WITH SOMETHING AT THE FOOT OF THE WALL.
"You stupid slag! What am I doin' up here!"
"Don't know, I ain't up there with you. Just hold the fuckin' dish!"
"What do I look like, a bloody busboy?"
ARGUING CONTINUES. STATIC SOUND FROM INSIDE STOPS.
CUT.
Interview Transcript, Faith Lehane
"Sometimes me n' Spike uh, y'know, get…. creative…. uh—"
STATIC BLURS AROUND FAITH "the FUCK? Ow!" INAUDIBLE WORDS COME FROM BEHIND CAMERA.
"You serious? It zaps me everytime I don't tell the entire truth? This the perjury machine or somethin? Fuckin' A. Okay, fine, so we get up to some stuff. Girl's gotta eat, y'know, so we been doing some things to raise money. I gotta pay this guy off, Charlie, so we've had to start doing more of it."
VOICE CONTINUES OVER FOOTAGE OF FAITH AND SPIKE LEANING OVER A CAR IN A DARK PARKING LOT.
"So that includes stealing carburetors from parked cars, stripping copper wire out of the abandoned warehouses, shit ton of poker with Clem and his buddies, y'know how it is."
Q: DOES BUFFY KNOW ABOUT THIS?
FAITH: "What? Nah, no way. She doesn't have to know, and you don't have to lose your teeth."
Q: HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT BUFFY AS A SLAYER? DO YOU THINK SHE'S PREPARED TO FIGHT THE COMING THREATS?
FAITH: "She's…. she's the strongest person I know. Frigid bitch, sometimes, but she's good. Better than any other slayer available."
FAITH CHUCKLES.
"I know she'll win. Can I get a light?"
Q: WHO IS CHARLIE?
FAITH: "We don't have to talk about Charlie."
STATIC BLURS AGAIN. FAITH CURSES AND LOOKS LIKE SHE'S ABOUT TO ATTACK THE CAMERA.
"Fuck! Fine. Charlie's my old boss from Boston. I don't know how he found me, how he got his shit hooks in Sunnydale, but he's here, and he wants his money. Gotta raise the money fast. Last I heard from my contacts in the demon network around here, he's using a church's kitchen to cook right now, keeps telling them that he's doing charity events."
Q: COOK? AS IN, ILLICIT SUBSTANCES?
FAITH: "Uhh, nah. Food. He runs a kitchen, does the crime shit on the side. Word to the wise, don't eat the bread pudding."
Archival Footage Transcript: Team 1
ITS NIGHTTIME. NOW IN ALLEYWAY. BUFFY PUSHES FAITH AGAINST A WALL AND PUTS HER MOUTH ON FAITH'S NECK. IT'S HARD TO SEE. THEY KISS.
FAITH SAYS [INAUDIBLE] AND POINTS AT THE CAMERA. THEY RUN DEEPER INTO THE ALLEY, AWAY FROM THE CREW.
CUT.
Interview Transcript, Tara Maclay and Willow Rosenburg
Q: HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE FAITH AND BUFFY'S RELATIONSHIP
TARA: "Oh, they're de-de-definitely weird about each other."
WILLOW: "I mean, come on. That many hickeys? The excuses are more embarrassing than the making out, at this point. It's like they think we're stupid. "
Q: EXCUSES?
WILLOW: "Yes! First it was that she was punching Faith in the throat, which like, okay, I've seen her do that plenty of times but those bruises should have been purple, not red!"
TARA: "Not as red as Buffy's face the last time you asked her about it."
WILLOW: "Tara! You're so bad!"
THEY SHARE A LOOK FOR A WHILE. WATCHER ASKS A QUESTION. HAS TO REPEAT IT.
Q: AHEM. DO YOU THINK THAT FAITH POSES A THREAT TO HERSELF OR OTHERS?
TARA: "Oh, to others? I don't think so. Honey, don't g-give me that look, just let me make my case. I wasn't around when Faith did what she did, I didn't see that side of her, but it doesn't seem like a side she wants to explore any more. That's behind her, I think. Her aura has, uhm… it's the color of repentence."
WILLOW: "Now she's more focused on Buffy's side. The back one, to be exact."
TARA: "Babe!"
TARA PUSHES WILLOW, WILLOW SNICKERS.
CUT.
Interview Transcript, Buffy Summers
"First of all, you don't know how hard it is keeping her under control. You can judge me all you want, with your cameras—"
BUFFY LOOKS AT THE CAMERA AND ADJUSTS HER HAIR SLIGHTLY, SHIFTING IN HER POSTURE BEFORE CONTINUING. LOOKING IN LENSE REFLECTION?
"but at the end of the day, I'm doing what the Council couldn't. I'm handling her, and if handling Faith requires the occasional kiss or, uh, other things, then so be it. The buck stops here. I am the line in the sand, okay? It's for the greater good."
Q: AH. WELL. THAT WASN'T THE QUESTION, EXACTLY, MS. SUMMERS.
BUFFY: "Oh. What were you asking again?"
Q: WE WERE ASKING ABOUT HOW YOU APPROACH HOSTAGE SITUATIONS WITH SUPERNATURAL THREATS, SUCH AS A VAMPIRE TAKING A HOSTAGE. WE'D LIKE TO MAKE A COMPREHENSIVE MAPPING OF YOUR TACTICAL DISPOSITION TO LEARN BEST HOW TO HELP YOU FIGHT GLORIFICUS.
BUFFY: "Uhm, yeah, that's right! Sorry, I can get a little sidetracked."
CHUCKLES. NERVOUS?
"Any chance we could just snip that first part and go from the top?"
Interview Transcript: William the Bloody
WILLIAM THE BLOODY HAS JUST WOKEN UP AND IS ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CEMETERY NEAR A BLACK CADILLAC. HE'S PREPARING FOOD USING THE ENGINE OF THE RUNNING CAR AS A STOVETOP.
Q: WHAT ARE YOU MAKING?
WILLIAM: "Blood sausage, mate. Slayer #2 taught me how to make it a while back, some weird recipe from her mom, I dunno. Only thing we can agree on sharing before startin' in on the hustles, innit."
Q: RIGHT. WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF FAITH AND BUFFY'S RELATIONSHIP?
WILLIAM: "They're shaggin'. Can smell Buffy's perfume on her everytime I get in the blasted car with her, and its bloody irritating. I'm not homophobic like, just wish they'd get on with it, that whole situation is unnatural, and that's coming from me, mate."
THE BLOOD SAUSAGE ON THE ENGINE LIGHTS ON FIRE BRIEFLY.
"Oh, shit—"
HE RUSHES TOWARDS THE BLOOD SAUSAGE AND TAKES IT OFF THE HEAT. IT LOOKS CHARRED.
CUT.
Giles
He watched in mounting horror as one catastrophe splayed itself in CTV viscera across the box television they'd rolled in. Somehow, Buffy kissing Faith violently in a dark, dingy alley was the least concerning part of the film reel.
"We're doomed."
He took off his glasses and put his head into his hands at exactly the same time and same way as Quentin Travers.