They ARE involved, as is the whole Scooby Gang and most of the LA Avengers as well.
But the story, as you can probably gather from the subject line, revolves mostly around a young woman whose destiny has become a lot more complicated since the events of THE GIFT.
Spoilers abound for that ep, BTW.
Just so you know, yes, this story IS a continuation of one I started on the regular Kitten Board. I just thought it would be a little more appropriate to post it here, rather than there.
Enjoy. 
AFTERMATH
by Kirk B
Faith had to admit, as the guard was leading her to the visitation room, that she was curious about who might be there to see her. Only one possibility sprang to mind. Angel was the only one who seemed to even remember she was alive, but since it was the middle of the day she could not believe the vampire would have risked his skin just to see how she was doing.
When the Slayer came around a corner and looked through the glass partition and saw Wesley Wyndham Price, her former Watcher, Faith's alarm bells began ringing big time. She and Wes had not spoken, or seen one another, since she turned herself into the authorities in the first place. Not that she could blame him. She had tortured him nearly to death waiting for Angel to arrive.
Faith plopped into the hard plastic chair and just stared at Wesley, not moving and barely breathing until, finally, he reached for the phone. She did the same, and when he cleared his throat several times she took the opportunity to ask the first question. "What's wrong?"
He seemed a little taken aback by the question. "What makes you think something is wrong?"
"Come on, Wes." Faith noticed several things. His eyes were red. He'd been crying. And even without her Slayer senses she would have been able to see his heart was pounding a mile a minute. "We both know you didn't come all this way just to say hi. Something happened. What is it?"
Wesley sighed. "I might have known I couldn't hide anything from you, young lady." He cleared his throat once again. "I'm afraid...Faith..." He looked her right in the eye.
Faith felt her own heart skip a beat. "It's Buffy." She knew. Somehow, she just felt it. "Isn't it?"
"Yes." Wesley could barely find the words, to describe to Faith what Willow had told them about Buffy's fight with Glory. How she had saved the world, yet again, but at a price that was far too horrible to mention. "By all accounts, it was a glorious battle. You would have been proud."
Faith's chest felt as it someone had reached in and was squeezing her lungs. She could hardly breath. And the phone receiver in her hand began to crack from the force she was exerting. Yet somehow, she just couldn't find the strength to cry. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Not yet. Not here.
Wesely saw something change in the Slayer's demeanor. He just wasn't sure what. "Faith?" He leaned a little closer to the plexiglass barrier. "Are you all right?"
In a sudden explosion of anger and speed, Faith lunged forward and punched her fist right through the half inch of solid plexiglass. The rest of it spider-webbed, blocking Wesley's view of her, but it held enough that she was not actually able to reach him. He was still shaking though.
"Do I look all right?!" he could hear Faith shout as she was being dragged away.
Wesley lowered his head and sighed. "Well now, that went off better than I was expecting.
On the way to isolation, a place she knew all too well, Faith had time to think.
Was what Wesley had told her really true? Was Buffy really dead? She had to know for herself, but that wasn't going to happen so long as she was locked up in this dump.
She hadn't exactly been a model prisoner so far, try as she might, so they certainly weren't about to let her out on bail or a weekend pass or anything.
But she needed to get back to Sunnydale. Now.
Of course she knew there wasn't a guard in the entire place capable of keeping her there if she chose to leave. She was a Slayer, after all. But since she was trying to redeem herself, at least in her own mind, was she willing to hurt a whole lot of people just to fulfill some morbid need to see Buffy's grave for herself? It was a difficult question, and there was no easy answer.
Faith considered sleeping on it, up until the point she saw Doug Ramsey, the beefy redheaded guard who tried to take advantage of her the first day she arrived--for which she nearly tore his arm off--waiting for her, in front of the door to isolation. At that moment, her mind was made up.
As the two guards leading her released Faith's arms, and Ramsey was reaching for her, the Slayer reacted. She broke her handcuffs without really even trying, headbutted Ramsey and then twirled around. She leg-swept both of the guards behind her, knocking them head over heels, then turned and made a beeline for the barred window at the end of the corridor. She knew she didn't have much time.
Ramsey was out of it, but one of the other men managed to reach the panic button on his belt. All at once, the alarms started blaring. The lights dimmed, and every cell door automatically locked. Around the prison, dozens of guards grabbed their weapons and began to mobolize.
Faith wrapped her hands around two of the bars on the window, and began to pull. What she was trying to do, it was almost impossible. She knew that. As strong as she was there were limits, but Faith did not like to think that way. As far as she was concerned there was nothing she couldn't do if she put her mind to it, and right now there only one thing on her mind. Escape.
Amazingly, something began to give way. Not the bars, they were far too tough, but the basing around the bars, and the window itself, were old and in need of strengthening. She pulled, harder and harder, and the bars actually began to shift. Then out of the corner of her eye, Faith could see guards at the far end of the corridor, they were having a hard time getting the door to open because of the lockdown. She smiled.
One of the other guards, the ones right behind her, came at the Slayer again. He had his nightstick in his hands and a determined look on his face. Faith ducked his rather clumsy efforts, and without even looking brought her foot up, hard, between his legs. He went down like a deflated water balloon. She pulled as hard as she could, and finally succeeded in ripping the whole section of bars out of the window. The Slayer tossed them aside, glanced over her shoulder at the guards one more time, and leaped to freedom.
Sort of.
That particular window, on that particular side of the prison, was two stories up. And there was nothing below her but the hard, unforgiving concrete of the prison parking lot. Faith dropped like a stone, her Slayer-enhanced legs absorbing the impact with a minimum of strain. Several guards in the parking lot tried to apprehend her, but she was too close now. She swatted them aside and headed not for the main gate, which would be far too heavily guarded, but for one of the side walls of the prison.
All around her, everyone was scrambling to find Faith before she got away. Guards were shouting, she heard a variety of guns being cocked, and there were frantic footsteps all around. But the Slayer ignored them. She took a flying leap that carried her to the top of a prison bus in one easy movement, and without slowing vaulted off it and flipped right over the south wall. She hit the ground running on the other side and ever looked back. It hadn't even occured to her yet how the hell she was going to get to Sunnydale since she had no cash. Plus, before long every cop in the city was going to be looking for her.
Faith had other things on her mind though.
It only took a couple of hours to get from LA to Sunnydale, under normal circumstances, but Faith also had to be careful to avoid the police along the way as well. So public transportation, like a bus, would have been out of the question even if she did have any money.
So since she had already shattered one pretty big rule--by breaking out of prison in the first place--one or two more would not make that much of a difference. She'd planned to steal the first unattended car she came across, but when she had to duck into a bar to avoid a passing police cruiser she was approached by several drunk bikers who refused to take her no for an answer. She wiped the floor with nearly everyone in the place, and emerged in a brand new leather jacket, bearing the keys to a motorcycle.
It was pretty easy sailing from there. Faith was able to take the backroads and avoid too much contact with too many other vehicles, though she did stop once to help an elderly couple change a flat tire. That, and having them thank her, was still a strange experience for the Slayer. It felt good though, and it made her understand, at least a little bit more, how it must have felt to be Buffy.
Out there on the road, all alone, Faith knew it would have been all right to let the tears come. To cry. But still, she held back. To her it was a sign of weakness. She'd cried when her Watcher died because she genuinely liked the woman, and Kakistos nearly tore her head off. The only other times, since then, she'd really allowed herself to let go and cry came when she was with Angel, and that was only because he treated her like a person and not a monster, like Buffy and her friends. Not that she hadn't deserved it. She was a monster once, and now she had to carry around the guilt that she had not been able to make it up to Buffy, to really apologize to the only person in the entire world--except, possibly, Angel--who really understood her.
As she roared into Sunnydale early that evening, Faith tried to decide where she should go first. She needed to see Buffy's grave, for her own benefit, but unless she approached one of the Scoobies directly there was no way to know which of the many cemeteries in town she was buried in. Of course, she knew none of them were going to be particularly happy to see her--an understatement really--so she had to try and decided which one would be the least likely to hit first and ask questions later.
Spike sat at a back table, in the upper section of the Bronze.
He was nursing a bottle of beer, now warm, which he had not touched in nearly an hour. Instead, he was sitting and staring off into space.
It had only been a few days since the fight with Glory. Since he actually fought alongside the Scoobies to save the world. Since...the vampire lowered his head and sighed. He didn't want to think about it anymore. It made his heart hurt too much. His frustrations grew and he snarled, unintentionally crushing the beer bottle in his hand. A string of curses escaped his lips as he picked glass out of his palm.
"That looks painful." Spike raised his head, to see a slinky-looking brunette in a black leather jacket stanting in front of him with her hands on her hips. "It's a good thing you heal."
Spike frowned. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
"I'm hurt. You don't remember me." She frowned. "No, I guess you wouldn't." She grabbed a chair and straddled it. "Since I was in Buffy's body at the time."
The vampire glared blankly at her for a moment, until he remembered something Willow had once told him. A second Slayer, who had somehow switched bodies with Buffy. Xander and Giles had also described her to a tee, he realized, as he looked the girl up and down. "Bloody hell. You're Faith?"
"That's right. I assume from that look on your face that they've mentioned me? And not in particularly glowing terms I imagine."
"You could say that. Hey, how did you find me anyway?" His eyes narrowed. "Better question. You're a Slayer, right? What is it you want anyway?"
Faith saw the way the vampire's black nails were digging into the table top, and smiled. "Relax blondie. I'm not here to slay you." Her face fell. "I think you know why I'm here."
After a moment, Spike nodded. "Yeah." He flagged down a passing waitress. "Gimme a beer, love." He glanced at Faith. "You want anything?"
"Make it two," said the Slayer. She watched the waitress leave, and then turned back to Spike. "I still have a few connections left in this town. They save you've been hanging out with Buffy and her good guy club lately. In fact the word is, you were a big part of the reason this crummy world of ours didn't end. So, were you really there? I mean, did you see Buffy...when she..."
Spike nodded. "I was. And I did. I stood there and I watched as she threw herself into that blasted portal. Didn't even think twice about it either, even though she must've known it was a one way trip. She wasn't thinking about herself. She just wanted to protect her kid sis. The whole blasted world, in fact. And there wasn't a bloody thing I could do to stop her."
"That's B for you," said Faith. "Selfless hero to the end. Always drove me nuts too, knowing I couldn't begin to compare to her in the humanity department."
Spike shrugged his shoulders. "I know the feeling. At least you're human. That gets you a measure of respect, I wager. One I can't touch no matter how hard I try."
The Slayer started to respond, but was interrupted by the waitress returning with their beers. The moment lost, she took her beer in hand and leaned back in the seat.
"Last I heard," the vampire said after taking a swig of his beer. "You were behind bars." He smirked. "So, either the American prison system is in even worse shape than I thought, or else you've got some pretty heavy dogs on your tail. My guess is you don't really have a lot of time for idle chit-chat, so why don't we cut to the chase and you can tell me what it is you want from me?"
Faith downed her beer all at once. "Fine." She leaned forward and looked him right in the eye. "Buffy's grave. I want you to take me there."
"Why me?"
The Slayer leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. "Because the others...Giles, Willow, they all hate me. And with good reason. Having me around would make them more uncomfortable and upset than they already are, and believe it or not I'd rather avoid doing that if I can."
"I'll take you," Spike said, finally. "I need to pay my respects anyway." He didn't feel the need to reveal to Faith how he gone to visit Buffy's grave every night since the funeral. Most of the time he spent hours there, down on his knees, staring at her tombstone--often, until the sun started to come up. Once he'd miscalculated, and ended up nearly in flames before he got back to his crypt.
Faith nodded.
Faith followed Spike through the cemetery; glancing at each of the tombstones, and wondering which of them might contain vampires who just hadn't woken up yet.
That wasn't even taking into account the one in front of her.
But since Buffy and the others obviously trusted Spike, at least a little, that was good enough for her. Besides, as long as he had that chip in his head he wasn't a threat to her, or anyone else. Except other demons, of course, but she didn't care if he wasnted to knock them around.
All of a sudden, they were there.
One tombstone apart from all the others. The grass was new, and the flowers, but Faith's gaze was drawn to the name. BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS. It was true. It was really true. She stood there with a dazed expression on her face, while Spike got down on one knee and reached into his duster.
The vampire drew out a rose from an inner pocket, and lay it on the grave.
"It took the two of you long enough."
Spike and Faith were both startled by a tall figure in a long black coat stepping out from behind a tree near the tombstone. They were both surprised, and yet not, to see him.
"Angel," Spike hissed. "Bloody perfect." He wasn't in the mood for a fight. Not here anyway.
Faith nodded to the other vampire. "Hi."
"I expected you this afternoon," said Angel. "After all, you left prison nearly a day ago."
"You knew?" the Slayer asked.
Angel nodded. "They called, just before I left. Wanting to warn me, and to ask if I'd seen you. Since I came to see you, I was the only name they had on record."
"What did you tell them?"
"The truth."
Faith lowered her head. "Angel..."
"I know. Don't worry about it. We'll work something out, when the time comes."
Spike frowned. "Are you daft? You can't send her back to prison. She's a Slayer. We need one of those around here, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Don't push me, Spike. The only reason I'm letting you stand here, and not taking you down, is because Willow and the others have been telling me how much you've been doing lately. How much you helped Buffy. You were there for her when she needed you..." Angel looked right at Spike. "...and I appreciate it. I don't understand it, but I appreciate it."
"Whether you want to believe it or not, I cared about Buffy. Unlike some people, she didn't always see me as a monster." Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Even if I was just a pale, pulseless alternative to you. It felt good to be needed by someone, even if it is a former enemy." He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette, snarling when he realized he had misplaced his lighter. "Bugger."
Another lighter was held up to him, and after a moment he accepted. He nodded to Angel as his grand-sire was pulling his arm back. "Thanks."
Faith crossed her arms. "How are the others?"
"Not good," said Angel. "Especially Dawn. Giles said she hasn't eaten and has hardly slept in two days. She just sits and stares at this picture of Buffy. I tried to talk to her, but..."
Spike took the cigarette out of his mouth. "You'd better make sure the wonder-Wiccas keep their magic stuff away from her. The last time..."
"I know. They told me about Joyce. I don't think we have to worry, but Willow is keeping an eye on her, just in case." Angel glanced at his watch. "It's going to be dawn soon."
Faith looked from one vampire to the other. Their expressions told her she was missing something. "Why do I feel like I'm out of the loop? What happened to B's mother?"
"I'll tell you on the way," said Angel.
"The way to where?" Faith asked. She blinked. "Look, I don't want to go back already Angel..."
"Not jail. Just come on." Angel gestured. "My car's this way."
In the back seat of Angel's convertible, Faith stared up at the sky; feeling even more despressed than before, if it was possible. Though it had been a while since she had last seen the woman, in truth since she had broken into the house and held her hostage, the Slayer fondly remembered Joyce Summers.
When she first came to Sunnydale, Faith had been introduced to Buffy's mom by the other Slayer. Joyce was a witty and intelligent woman, and she always treated Faith like a mother would her child. Or, at least, what Faith's imagination tried to tell her a mother was like, since she couldn't remember her own. Before Joyce came along the closest thing she'd had to a parental figure was her first Watcher.
Faith, of course, had screwed it all up. Just like she screwed up every good thing in her life. Buffy, Angel, and the whole blasted Scooby Gang, had tried to help her. Time and again. But she eventually gave into her dark side and joined forces with Mayor Wilkins. That was a mistake she would like to regret. He, too, treated her like she was his child, but in a much more perverse way. He wanted a child who would kill and crush and destroy on cue, a living weapon he could point and fire at any target he chose.
Now she was on the run. The cops were probably looking for her even now, and instead of finding a deep, dark hole to crawl into she was riding across Sunnydale in a convertible, with two vampires. Her life was so screwed up it wasn't even funny, and she had no idea what to make of any of it. She had no direction, no goals, no one but Angel--including herself--who actually seemed to think she was worth a damn.
"We're here."
Faith was roused from her intrspection by the car jolting to a stop. She lowered her head and opened her eyes, and immediately wondered if she should close them again.
"Angel..."
The vampire slid out of the driver's side seat. "It'll be okay."
"Right then." Spike was already halfway up the sidewalk. "Let's do this thing."
Faith grabbed the headrest of the seat in front of her, and flung herself out of the car all at once. She landed in front of Angel, shaking her head. "This is crazy. I can't go in there."
"Why not?"
"Because, they'll freak," Faith replied. "They wouldn't want to see me."
Angel shook his head. "I think you might be surprised. If you give them half a chance, you might actually learn they are not quite as unforgiving as you like to think."
"If you say so." Faith's knowing eyes followed Spike, who knocked on the door of the Summer's residence and was admitted by Ruper Giles, who nodded. The Watcher saw Angel first, then Faith and, to his credit, he reacted with his usual Britsh accord. He gestured for them to come inside.
Angel nodded. "Trust me." He nodded to Giles as he stepped into the house having--like Spike--been invited in on a seperate occasion.
Faith, meanwhile, walked up to Giles and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Hey."
"Hey indeed," said the Watcher. "I assume you heard?"
The Slayer nodded. "I know this might sound kind of hollow, coming from me, but I am sorry."
"As are we all," Giles replied. "Please, come in and join us."
Faith was uncomfortable the moment she entered the Summers' home, for various reasons. The place was so much smaller than she rememebered. And it felt so empty, as if she was missing someone. Two someones, as a matter of fact. Buffy and Joyce. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Everyone was in the living room, where Giles had apparently been directing her all along.
Willow and Tara, back from LA obviously, sat on one end of the couch. They had their arms around each other and were sitting as close as possible.
Xander was on the other end of the couch, a blank expression on his face. His ex-demon fiance, Anya, had her still-bandaged head resting in his lap.
Even Welsey and Cordelia had come from LA. He had his glasses off and was rubbing his brow, while she was apparently shooting daggers at Anya as she stared at Xander.
Angel and Spike, more out of neccessity than anything else, stood near each other at the back of the room, in order to avoid the sunlight peeking through the half-open curtains.
Giles, realizing this, went to close the blinds.
And then there was Dawn. Faith didn't know her too well, she and the youngest Summers had never really hung out during her Sunnydale days, and she imagined the others had told the girl all sorts of horror stories--many of them true, but still--about her. Dawn was curled up in a big, plush chair, scrunched up apparently so as to appear smaller. There was less a chance of her being noticed that way.
Faith knew the feeling. She was even more uncomfortable than the others, even though they were all there for the same reason. To mourn the loss of someone important to them all. The Scoobies, at least, had each other to lean on. They were friends. Some even more than that. She was the outsider, pure and simple, and in her heart of hearts she envied them. They had everything her life lacked.
"I think we all know why we're here today," said Giles. "Buffy Summers..."
He was the first, but not the last, to say how much Buffy meant to him. Willow, Xander, every one of the core Scooby members had their turn. Then Anya and Tara, followed by Wesley and Cordelia. Finally came Spike, and Dawn, both of whom were clearly fighting back tears. Last up was Angel. He started, by describing the very first time he ever saw Buffy, long before any of them knew about her, when the demon Whistler introduced him--at a distance--to a fifteen year-old, soon to be Slayer.
Through it all, Faith had remained stolid. Never wavering, never flinching, while all of the other women in the room, as well as Xander and Giles, began to cry. Yet Angel's words touched something within the Slayer. A part of herself, her heart, which she had thought long dead. It was that same deep, relentless pain and misery, she had not experienced since her Watcher was killed. Now, as the tears erupted, the face she saw in her mind's eye was not that of a tall, dark-haired older woman, but rather the slim, blond Buffy.
Faith cupped her hands over her face and began to cry, her body wracked with sobs. She couldn't control it, as if all of the emotions she had been bottling up for years on end had finally found an outlet. The floodgates were finally open, and everything was escaping, whether she wanted it to or not.
For that one moment, at least, Faith had found common ground with people she once considered enemies. All of them knew, finally, that she was just as human as most of them. She had feelings, too, and Buffy's death made just as big of an impact on her.
Even Willow, who had more of an ire for the other Slayer than Buffy herself, felt a kinship with Faith. She had started too cry to, and buried her face in Tara's shoulder.
No one knew quite what to say, so they didn't say anything at all. Not for a long time.
------------------
Kirk B
"A Willow is a tree that weeps, but Tara is firmer and will hold.”
Hear that baby? You're my always.
I got so lost.
I found you. I will always find you.
