soldtoarmenians | Friday, July 13th 2001 (Reply)

...Bounced e-mail to Fandom:

...We're holding our own, but I don't know how much longer before they figure out that we're *just* holding our own, and throw something bigger than we can handle at us.

Which is why we're about to do something really stupid, yay, which I'm feeling kind of don't-jinxy about so I'll tell you after if it turns out to be not the biggest mistake we ever made. Wish us luck? Or possibly brains...

Northern California Women's Facility, Stockton CA

	Of all the people Xander ever expected to see pulling out a chair on the other side of a glass barrier... actually, no, the person on the other side of the window wasn't much of a surprise. It was him sitting here on the visitor's side that he wouldn't have predicted in a million years.
	Faith wouldn't have either, to be honest. Which is why an expression of surprise flickers briefly across her face. Only for a moment, and then the mask of cool indifference is back. "Xander."
	Xander twitched at his shirt-sleeve, less than comfortable and sure it was obvious. He actually didn't care if she knew that, though, which made it a little easier. "Faith."
	"You gonna tell me what brings you here, or are we going to waste time with some small talk first?" she asks.
	"Like how's the weather in there, you mean?"
	"Fabulous. In fact, in my copious free time I've been working on my tan," Faith deadpans.
	"And taking the Reader's Digest: It Pays To Increase Your Word Power quiz; I'm impressed."
	"So why don't you give impressing me a try and just spill about what you need from me?"
	"Buffy's dead." Funny how it'd gotten easier to say. In some world where funny is a synonym for obscene.
	"I know," Faith says, her voice softening slightly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
	That paused him for a second. "You knew? What, some kind of Slayer sense?"
	"No," Faith rolls her eyes. "Believe it or not, I actually have had other visitors. Angel stopped by. He said Willow came by to tell him about Buffy."
	Oh. That'd be about two months ago, then. Xander had the good grace to look guilty, at least. "We didn't really think you'd... " He shrugged awkwardly, then admitted, "We didn't really think about you at all, at the time."
	"And now you are," Faith says matter-of-factly. "Which brings me back to 'what do you need?'"
	See, you'd think there wouldn't be any problem wasting time with small talk when neither person in the conversation actually wants to. You'd be wrong, but that's Earth logic for you. Xander's is better, or at least he used to think so before he ended up doing this. Come on, Willow... he muttered, lips moving but no sound coming from them that anyone could hear even on his side of the glass. He was about to come up with something, anything, besides the real answer, when his pocket started playing Bibbety Bobbity Boo, and he breathed a sigh of relief, pulled out his cellphone without putting down the one connected to the wall, and flipped it open. "Will?"
	"You've got five minutes." Willow's voice was sharp, clear enough to carry over to the other phone, even.
	"Five minutes?" Faith echoes. "For what? Xander?"
	"Got it," Xander said to his phone, and then to the other one, or rather, into it while he looked across the divider, "We need you."
	"What?" Faith just stares at him. "Oh no, no, no. I can't just... leave. I'm in jail, if you hadn't noticed."
	"And we've got five minutes to fix that. Less if I have to waste more of it trying to convince you this isn't the dumbest idea we've ever had when frankly I haven't even convinced me." He pointed up. "Security system's gone a little fritzy. Sound's out, and all the cameras are seeing the last two minutes looped over and over."
	"I- I'm supposed to be here," Faith says, hesitating a little.
	"Buffy said you turned yourself in." At some level Xander hadn't ever quite processed that, not enough to really believe it, until now. "Which hey, if it's that or killing people instead of monsters, go Team Jail." He gave her a thumbs-up. "But the monsters are starting to notice it's amateur hour out there now; we need a Slayer. You're the only one left that's qualified for the job, and you can't do it in here."
	Faith's quiet for a moment, as she thinks it over. Xander did have a point, after all. With the situation as it was, she could do a lot more good out there than behind bars. "Yeah, okay," she says finally.
	"Watcher's Council thinks we're nuts," he warned her. "But they did agree to...pretend they don't know this is happening, mostly. Funny how cooperative they get when somebody hacks into their bank accounts." Xander slid his cellphone into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, glancing at his watch at the same time. "Three minutes. Hope you didn't leave anything in your cell that you can't live without."
	"I'll manage, somehow," Faith snorts. "What do I do?"
	Xander pulled a card from his wallet and slapped it up against the glass. A tiny flash of light spread out from it like ripples through a pond, and the glass...wavered. He hung up the phone. "You come through."
	"..." Faith stares at the ID for a second after hanging up the phone on her side. "What the hell is that supposed to be?" she asks as she climbs through the glass.
	"Well, I wasn't gonna bust you out of here using my name."
	"That's not exactly what I- Wilbur Rufus Skeeter?" Faith says, hopping down so that she's standing beside Xander.
	"If everything went right, scanner didn't really take a picture of it anyway, but just in case, I guaran-damn-tee nobody in this universe is getting tracked down once they figure out you're gone." Xander watched Faith's reflection in the glass as he pulled the ID card away and the window solidified again. He pointed to it, then waved. "Which shouldn't be for another hour or so if that lasts as long as it's supposed to." Her reflection waved back.
	"Do I even want to know?" Faith asks, trying not to stare too much at the copy of herself on the other side of the glass.
	"Goes back to your cell and fades away after a few hours." He checked his watch again. "We on the other hand have... two minutes now, to get the hell out of here before he--" Xander pointed to the guard at the door, staring straight ahead and seemingly unaware that Xander wasn't alone in the room. "--wakes up enough to notice there's two of you, and one's on the wrong side of that wall." He flashed his ID to the spaced-out-looking guard, and after a second, there was a buzz and a metallic click; the doors opened onto the hallway outside.
	"Make like a tree, got it." Faith says, moving towards the doors. "So what am I supposed to tell people when they ask who I am, anyway? I mean, 'escaped convict', while true, probably won't go over real well."
	"Right." Xander put his own fake ID away and fished another one out of his pocket, handing it over to Faith as they walked through the doors and out into the hallway. "Welcome to the family."
	"Faith Harris? Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
	"Well, we thought about Lehane but after a couple hours brainstorming we spotted a couple minor flaws in that idea. Just be glad it doesn't say Umberto, and if anybody not actually related to me asks, you're my wacky non-identical cousin from Pittsburgh."
	"Umberto?" Faith starts to ask something, then changes her mind and shakes her head. "Never mind. This whole thing is kinda wacky, if you ask me."
	"I'm sorry, you have been to Sunnydale, right? Oh, and while I'm filling you in on the wacky, few or three things you should know." He walked faster. There was a bend in the hall; around the corner, a shorter one, double doors at the end of it, sunlight streaming through the safety glass. "Far as the general public knows, Buffy's in Spain with her dad for the summer. Spike's off the kill list and believe me that's just as weird for us. I trust you about two inches closer than I can throw you, but Giles has a loft and you're sure as hell not taking the empty bed at Buffy's house so you're staying at my apartment. And you know that good-cop/bad-cop game?"
	"Vaguely familiar with it, yes," Faith says, trying to process all this.
	"I'm the good cop." Xander pushed open the door at the end of the hall and gestured at the parking area. "I don't think you'll have to worry about making small talk with Willow or Dawn for a couple hundred years." He de-pocketed his phone and punched a speed-dial number. "We're out." "Or our wheelman," he added when his car pulled up to the door with Willow in the back and Joyce Summers in the driver's seat.
	"Good cop, huh?" Faith says. "Is this gonna involve handcuffs? 'Cause seriously, not much of a turn-on anymore."
	"Good, then you won't be borrowing mine without asking; stay out of the drawer under my bed. Also don't touch the laptop or the stuffed frog, the roommate snores but he'll stop if you kick his door, and the couch has a busted spring that gets way too personal for a first date if you sit down in the wrong spot. Twinkie?" As the doors closed behind them, Xander pressed another button on his phone, then held one out to her.
	"...You just gave me a Twinkie. From your phone," Faith says, taking the Twinkie and staring at Xander.
	"The cars fly now, too," Xander answered without missing a beat. Possibly because he planned that out in his head on the drive here. Maybe.
	Faith rolls her eyes at Xander. "Sure, Wilbur. Whatever you say."