Note: for the Bechdel Test Comment Fic-a-thon
They're only sort-of listening to some sitcom or other, but it's nice, demon-free fun. "So when did you realize you were a witch? Or - become a witch? I don't really know how it works."
"Good thing we're all friends here and have no need for metaphor and euphemism."
Buffy ducks her head a bit and smiles. "No, I really mean the magic."
Tara gives her gentle laugh. "I know you do. Anyway, my mother was a witch, so I always knew it was a possibility. But I wouldn't really have been strong enough to do any spells when I was a little kid. I guess it happened over time, and then one day I could. Started making a light with my hands, so I could read even after lights out at night."
"Did you want it?"
"Sure." Tara pulls at her necklace, a large jade-green pendant on a leather string. "Maybe. I don't think it was ever really about wanting it. With witches, you are or you aren't."
"I get that."
"What's it like to become a Slayer?" Tara seems a little surprised at her own presumption, but Buffy doesn't mind the question. Nobody's ever bothered to ask her before.
"I don't remember the change, so much. Went to bed one night, got chosened up, and broke my alarm clock pressing the snooze button the next morning. The other girl must have been on a late night patrol and. You know." Tara nods. "Just, woke up a superhero. No Karate Kid montage necessary."
"Sweetie." Tara's smile is a little bit sad. "It's not the powers that make you a superhero. You did that yourself."
Faith & Buffy
They catch their breath in silence as they head back from the warehouse. Faith shoves her hands in her pockets so forcefully she almost loses her pants, and declines even to smirk suggestively as she hikes them back up.
Buffy lets her have the quiet as she steers them toward the nearest pizza place. It's all bold blue benches and paper plates - not even Sunnydale's finest, and exactly what they need right now.
"Let's skip the SoCal special," she suggests. "Healthy veggie pizza is just unnatural."
Faith's voice is still raspy. "Sure, but I don't..."
"It's okay, I got it." She orders a pizza piled down with meat and a plate of fries for good measure. It's ready entirely too quickly to be made of actual food, but it'll do for the two Slayer metabolisms at the table.
"We can talk about...work...here?"
It's mostly empty and quiet. The kid behind the counter impassively watches the newscaster report on yet another "mountain lion" attack.
"Yeah, I think we're okay. Be surprised, just how much people don't seem to hear."
"Bet I won't." Faith pulls a fry through her obscene glob of ketchup. "Thanks, B."
"No problem. It was going to be a take-out night anyway."
"No, I mean, thanks for backing me up out there. Couldn't have done it without you."
"Maybe." They avoid each other's eyes and chew for a moment. "But hey. You kicked his ass, even after what he did to you. I'm just glad I could help."
Faith keeps her eyes down and nods. "So 'don't die' is the first rule. What's the second one?"
"When you figure it out, let me know."