While You Were Sleeping
by Kelly Smith
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I still haven't taken personal delivery of the slayers, so I'm guessing I still don't own them. Or anything surrounding them. That pleasure still belongs to Joss. He's one darn lucky fella.
Author's Notes: Remember season four, when everyone's favourite slice of dark slayer pie woke up from that pesky little coma..? Okay. Now unremember it. It never happened. No one woke up, no bodies were switched, no Riley was jiggied with, no nothing. Nada. This fic starts on the day of Chosen with all of that in mind. Everything else has remained the same, just without the Faith bits. Them bits I get to play with, manipulate, and make my own. Cool huh?
Dedicated: To Sarah Shahi's ass. It makes me believe in heaven.
The beeping of the machines had long since ceased in the dark and desolate room of the rogue and comatose slayer. The electricity had been cut off days ago. No one left to maintain a power supply, no one left who would care if she lived or if she died. No nurses remaining to monitor her condition, no doctors to sign off on charts which had always remained the same. No change. No difference. Four forgotten years of the same beeping monotony.
The shallow repetitiveness of barely their breaths was the only sound which broke the eerie emptiness of silence, the soft fluttering of eyelashes against a pale, sunken cheek the only other outward sign that she still existed. Until then. Until now. Until the monotony changed.
A broken body forced to feel again.
If the machine by her bedside was still able to chart her progress, it would have malfunctioned almost instantaneously. The sharp ragged lines of her heartbeat creating graphs more complex than any seismic activity, the surge of power infusing her system making her back arch high from the bed. Lank and dirty hair hanging limp around a face that was a contorted mask of hurt and pain.
It was fast and it was furious and it was real. Sensations slamming into her body as everything around her fought to find focus. Shards of sunlight forcing their way through the blinds to stab pain into her eyes, her ears tormented by a return to consciousness, by thoughts which had lain dormant all of the years that she hadn't had to think them. Back now. Here now. A twisting in her gut, a thorn in her side.
Her hands moved almost unbidden to find the evidence of her memories. The cold feel of serrated steel forcing panic back into breaths, her skin becoming clammy as she fought to push back the blankets and the sheet which covered her body. They felt like they were holding her down, holding her prone. Her mind screaming at her feet that they knew how to work, how to fight, how to scramble until she was free. Unobstructed. Able to flex. Her eyes travelling slowly down across the gown which covered her modesty, her skin prickling as her hands connected with the naked flesh underneath. Looking for the gash, the rip, the tear. The confirmation of the violence which tripped quick through her mind.
It was raw and it was the truth. Almost slamming her back down into the bed, the sick sensation of falling, icy green eyes charting her progress as she fell. All of her final minutes forcing themselves into this minute. Too much to hear, too much to see. Unable to stem the torturous tide of the memories;
`That's mine.'
`You're about to get it back.'
Fear. Her feet feeling foreign as her body began to demand that she take flight from this place. A hospital. Knowing that much, yet not knowing where the nurses were, where the doctors were.
Her hands reached out to steady herself as she shakily put weight upon her legs, hissing as every muscle in her body coerced her into sitting back down. Deep breaths.
"Come on Faith."
Shit. Her voice. Was that HER fucking voice..?
Barely a whisper cracking out from parched lips. Her tongue moving in a pointless gesture of trying to bring moisture. She desperately needed to hear the reassuring sound of a rasp she could remember, urging softer tones to scrape free from the back of her throat;
"Come on."
Softer. Weaker. Was she weak now?
No. Never weak.
She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness made her instantly reconsider that statement; definitely weak. It felt more truthful when she regarded it that way. Maybe always weak.
Her fingers flitting again to pull at the gown, her eyes which had quickly accustomed to the gloom of the room taking in the scar which ridged uneven across her abdomen, a slash of pink against flesh which hovered near deathly white.
"Fuck."
A rasp she remembered. A line she knew well. A smile which sought to twist her face into a snarl, lips licking not for moisture now, but to sweeten the taste of the revenge which sat bitter in her stomach. Deep down and festering beneath the disfigurement that *she* had put there.
`You did it. You killed me.'
Only she hadn't, had she?
A chuckle wanted to accompany her meandering thoughts, but the steady flow of resentment was keeping her humour firmly in check. It was forcing her shaking limbs to try standing again, satisfied when she didn't sink back down, when the pins and needles which buzzed along her limbs was the only pain that she could feel.
Her walk was even and steady as she made her way to the cupboard which ran along the back of the room. A simple sticker stating; Patient's Belongings.
Belongings.
Somewhere she belonged..? Somewhere she should be..?
Her aching eyes wanting to fall downwards as her gaze rested upon the clothes that she had shed, just what..? Yesterday? Upon the blood that had spilled so easily over her clothes… only…
"What the fuck..?"
A voice more hers as she reached to touch clothes she had never seen. Never worn. No torn reminder of the gash that sat beneath the gown. No red stained patterns telling the tale of how her life had trickled away. To here. To this.
The Mayor..?
Her legs threatened to fail again as his face swam into the space behind her eyelids, as his smile reached out to urge her into being strong. More words. Sounds which scratched her inner ear as if they were being spoken aloud instead of in memory; no matter that they were soft words, caring words, her body still buckled slightly at the recollection of his image, at the reminder of the plan.
It made perfect sense to her that he would bring her fresh clothes, that he would provide for her. He had always wanted her to be her best, to look her best; and now, lifting the scratchy feel of fresh denim from the cupboard, she wasn't disappointed. If this was what he wanted her to wear to face the fight, then she would be more than happy to oblige.
The fight. The plan.
Her hands slid across the jagged edge of her scar again as she lifted the gown from her body, her forehead furrowing in a deep frown as she felt the way her ribs protruded sharply from underneath her skin. It wasn't right. Her brow managing to dip even further as she tried to trace curves which should have been second nature to her, fingers instead faltering on hip bones which screamed of malnourishment, the air rushing fast from between her lips as she looked down at her thighs which had always been so supple; so firm.
Weak now.
The words goaded her again from somewhere deep within her muddled subconscious, and they were words which sought to rekindle her hostility. A pin point of light within the confusion that forced her to seek clarity, her teeth gritting as she shook her head in a feeble attempt at clearing the fog.
"Think, damn it, think!"
Strength was still evident in the tone of her voice, and she used that strength to pull the new jeans over her feet, up over her legs. The muscles in her arms aching as she struggled to put on the t- shirt. A smirk settling at last on her lips as she saw something she recognised, something that felt right. Thankful that her jacket and her boots weren't lost in the fight; at least she still had something left of her armour.
She urged herself into thinking more as she finished the slow painful act of dressing, her whole body screaming that it wasn't yet ready to march into battle, but her feet already moving her in slow testing steps towards the door. There was a plan; she knew that much. And she also knew that she was to be at the mayor's side when the plan was put into action. Her hand trembling just once in the moment before she turned the handle on the door, the final second when she knew that this was it; fight or flight.
But she wanted to fight. Right..? She had kept herself going these last few months, just knowing that she would eventually get to wipe those self righteous and pathetic smiles from the faces of the self righteous and pathetic. She wasn't about to give that up now, just because *she* had tried to turn her into a shish-slayer-kebab for her undead boy-toy. Just because maybe, just maybe, if she saw her again, it would only end the same way.
Because she would let it end the same way? Because she *wanted* it to end the same way?
It was a fog that she didn't want cleared. Questions that she didn't want answers to. So instead she allowed the festering darkness to come back and claim her fully. Her hand steadying with new found strength as she pulled the door harshly towards her, her eyes not needing to dart around and check for people that weren't there; she would remove anything or anyone that stood in her way.
She had places to go. She had people to kill.
Her very first graduation.
Beneath the newly primed floors of the brand spanking new high school, there was a battle already being fought. A fight not waiting for an errant and forgotten slayer to make an appearance, when already the spell had been done to awaken a whole army of light and bright slayers. Ready to fight. Ready to die. Each one of them spurned on by the fresh feeling of newly discovered power, fizzing fast through their veins, pumping destiny into their blood.
The spell that the witch had performed had bound the slayer line together like nothing before, shattering the rules of unnatural selection, to forever break the hold of long forgotten men over the world's forgotten warriors. A moment of divinity reaching out to touch each of them, providing them with access to the power that had long since been denied.
Even the slayer who had held the front line felt the release of the energy as it had crackled in the air all around them; her body tensing, feeling a surge of pure slayer deep down inside, as what was hers, suddenly became theirs.
A renewed strength. A rebirth.
Her senses awakening in that moment as if they had never been awoken before; her arms flexing with renewed precision. The unrestrained force in her body just aching to be released upon the howling army of the undead. The soon to be army of newly re-deaded undead.
She wasn't sure of the grammar; an ironic thought when she considered her current position in the high school, but she was more than sure of the finality of the thought. The scythe thrusting fast through the air to reach her grasp only confirming it for her. Dust spreading to coat the already oppressive air as more and more Turok- Han journeyed foolishly within her reach. She was unstoppable, she was invincible.
She was on her knees as the sword ripped ragged holes through her shirt to pierce at the skin of her back; still going. The pain made bearable, even as she had been run through, by the steady mantra which refused to be silenced.
'No.'
Just no. Over and over. A rejection of failure. A belief in the basics. Good over evil. More than that; a belief in herself. As her face had dropped close to the ground, as her own stolen voice had summoned her back from flirtations with death, she had absolutely embraced that belief in herself. She had earned that belief, and nothing or no one could ever seek to douse the flames of her spirit.
Nor the flames of a past lover, as his soul had burnt a victory laden path through the swathe of ever rising evil. His sacrifice bringing the turn in the tide; allowing his girl to retreat with the knowledge that they had won. That her belief in HIM had given him the strength he had needed to die the death of a champion.
Rocks falling. Time racing. A plea for her to leave. Her legs finally beginning to feel the burn of exhaustion as she had pulled herself up the steps that marked the entrance to the world above. Still running though, beating out a rhythm of survival as she had dodged the falling debris to reach the bright light of the sunshine outside.
And then she had frozen.
Not through the surrender to fatigue, but due to the sudden realisation of what was occurring; what was about to be lost. The rumbles underneath her were assuring her that the Hellmouth was still hungry in its failure, and she realised, beyond doubt, that Sunnydale was about to be swallowed.
A small price to pay..?
Her hand reaching to smother the wound on her abdomen, the same time that her mind was seeking to smother the memory of other gashes in other shirts. Of blades which sliced through skin as easy as a knife through melting butter. Of what was really about to be lost.
"BUFFY!"
Dawn's cry sounded loudest from the bus, a sister demanding that her family stay in tact, that Buffy stop whatever was causing her to stand in the way of a super sized earthquake and get her ass on the bus. Now!
And so she had run again. Her heart pumping to dispel the tingles that previous thoughts had resurfaced. She had lost far too much to take the time to count individuals now. To even consider the possibility of trying to take detours past hospitals which had long since closed for business.
Just run. Just escape. Just get the hell out of dodge.
They had been her thoughts, her new fangled mantra to carry her legs the last distance to the bus.
She had known that something was wrong the whole time that she had been making her way to here. Sunnydale High. Except where were all the students..? Where the fuck was anybody?! Not one single person had passed her on her journey, not one police patrol car to slide away from, not one Scooby sized snack to maim a chunk from.
It had made her grow steadily more uneasy. Her shallow frame trying to regenerate strength all the while that her mind was trying to put into order anything that it was seeing. Certain landmarks that had changed within just a few hours, and even, maybe, the way that her hair was seeming to hang a few inches lower.
Which meant..?
She had not a fucking clue. It was making her antsy as hell though, creeping up on a spot to stake out the party. Bemused eyes fixing on the changed façade of the school, muddled brain adding it to the growing list of inconsistencies which had increasingly become her thoughts.
Where was everyone?
Praying for stealth, she had edged as close as her survival instincts would allow. Finally able to bear witness to humanity. A humanity which only offered more inconsistency.
Them. The gang. But not. But different.
Her head grabbing at dizzy as the world had spun around her. All of her re-awoken senses screaming that the sniff of a battle was hanging heavy in the air, that she pull back her arm and run screaming into the fight; Only now she didn't know the fight.
She watched silent in her confusion as they had loaded themselves up onto the bus, the ones she remembered - albeit differently - waiting to make sure ones she didn't recognise had managed to take seats. Their eyes always glancing back towards the school, whispered words unheard as their heads had leaned in to converse a course of action. Finally deciding. Their trudging feet lifting them wearily up and onto the bus as if they were leaving someone behind. As if they had lost.
She crept closer. She knew who was missing.
Not even feeling as the ground had started to shake beneath her feet, just waiting. Eyes fixed and unmoving as they had sought out the one who could placate her desire to exact revenge. Forgetting the mayor. Forgetting graduation. Just focusing upon the slice of a knife, the feel of warm blood, her own blood, moist and sticky as it had leaked her life steadily between her fingertips.
'You did it. You killed me.'
Was it wonder or gratitude she heard in the memory of her voice speaking the words? Didn't know. Didn't care. Only knew that the twisting in her gut was getting more savage with every step she took towards the school, towards the bus. Faltering at the sight of her, but not stopping. Never stopping. Even as Buffy had frozen in her backwards glance towards the school, the forgotten one did not stop in her steady pursuit of her.
"BUFFY!"
The sudden scream brought a pause where Faith didn't want one. A voice breaking from the bus to pull the golden haired, The Chosen 'One', from whatever thought had been holding her back. Legs starting to move again, moving away.
And so this was it. Her body feeling as if it had crumbled beneath her, her legs protesting that she still sought to stand, and this was the moment that she would force the fighting to commence. Maybe stupid. Probably. She didn't care. She only cared to soothe the bitterness that ate at her soul, that sat ragged across the pallid skin of her abdomen in the shape of a Buffy sent caress.
"B."
So hollow. So empty. So nowhere near loud enough.
The roaring of a falling building drowning out anything that she could of hoped to produce. Yet still; Buffy was stopping again. A sudden stoppage, feet planting firm as she had whirled to face the distant sound that had rung out a call of remembrance loud within her ears.
"Faith."
Not spat from between lips as the girl in question had stepped closer to her frozen state, but whispered in disbelief as eyes had spread wide. As glances had been cast upwards, towards something of a higher power.
"B." Spat with absolute venom. "I owe you something."
Her rasping words faltering as she had glanced down at the stain which was still spreading out across the front of Buffy's top. Warm blood. Her blood?
More confusion, more dizziness. The anger sliding from her tone as she spoke words which were shrouded in nonsense. In everything that occupied her broken mind. "I… I killed *you*?" Her fingers shifting up from limp, to trace a pattern across cotton where she knew her own wound lie. Yet… "I killed you."
Not a question now, but like an admittance. A belief. The fog coming back, reaching around her to drag whatever had been keeping her going, standing on her feet, slowly but surely out of her body. Disorientation messing images of the here and the now with the then and the when..?
Her fist curling against her abdomen, her breaths seeking to leave her body in an ever faster rush. So close to crashing. To falling.
"Faith..?"
An urgent plea?
Buffy's eyes had been drawn from the shell of a girl in front of her, by more of the Dawn screaming behind her. Focusing the warrior, the survivor. Feeling the tense as Faith, maybe not so broken, had refocused in front of her. Balling fists again, shaky legs setting back into the posture of a fight.
"You ready for payback B?"
And what *was* this?!
Buffy had often nightmare sequenced the payback, when she had been foolish enough to believe that Faith would awake after three… no, four years in a coma; but now?
"Not now."
She spoke the words cautiously as she edged her way back towards the bus. Her glance flying behind to witness the wide eyes peering from the revving vehicle as her friends finally caught up on the sitch unfolding before them. As they probably cursed the timing just as much as Buffy. But then, just a moment ago, Buffy herself had been cursing that this moment would be lost to her forever.
A cosmic joke? A final fling with fate to truly test her will of preservation?
The fist that flew without warning at Buffy carried nothing but bare naked rage. It carried no real power. The other's limbs still weak, everything still weak. A mind dazed. Every thought fragmented by the confusion which was seeping itself further and further into her being.
And Buffy deflected it with barely an exhausted breath. Her mind fighting its own daze to gain back focus. "I said not now! Will you *ever* listen to me?!"
She expected she could answer that one without Faith's input. Still; it had brought brown eyes back to hers, had brought with them a lost look, a scared look.
"B?"
No venom. No spitting of names now that everything was fading to black. And maybe she was wrong. Maybe Faith would listen.
"We have to…"
But no. Faith wouldn't listen. She was too busy falling, her mind closing down at the same time her body gave up this torture that felt nothing but self enforced. Her body collapsing limp and light into Buffy's waiting arms.
A slight smile daring to cross Buffy's lips as she considered that she had caught her this time. No more falling on her watch. No way, mister. Only… wasn't it too late for this? Hadn't she already watched her fall way beyond anyone's reach?
"Buffy… NOW!"
A united scream as the ground had shook with more fury than at any previous moment. The building finally succumbing to dust, the pavement around Buffy beginning to crumble as she clung unwaveringly to the form of the fallen slayer.
A last effort. Not just her own preservation, but the girl she was hoisting above the tired joints of her shoulders. A hiss escaping drying lips as the effort caused the gaping wound which marred her stomach, to grow ever bolder in its presence.
She spoke curse words, she spoke possibly some Latin curse words, and they all paved the way for her feet to walk ever further forward toward salvation. Gratitude obvious in her eyes as Xander had reached down from the bus to unburden her from her load. His gaze teetering somewhere closer to 'what the hell?', even though he knew that she wouldn't have answers.
She had nothing. Her final task of leadership accomplished for the day, as she had sunk slowly and heavily down into the sticky leather seats of the bus. Exhausted. Wounded somewhere close to the realm of mortally. Absolutely spent.
She heard Giles' voice ask a frantic 'where to?' as the bus started to motor with welcome speed, but it was all she could do to lift her finger in a vague direction of away from behind them. It would do. Accepting hugs from friends and sisters the further away that they got from the pit which was increasingly evolving in the background. Chasing them away. As if they needed urging.
Finally stopping. Coming to a halt. The bus caked firmly in a dust that carried all of the memories they would ever be able to salvage from the town named Sunnydale.
Buffy wouldn't rise to take in the view; Buffy couldn't rise, she didn't think, if the lives of everyone here depended upon it. But then, hadn't she already done that once today? Rising from the ashes, snatching victory from defeat?
No. She wouldn't clamber down the stairs to gaze over everything she had just taken pleasure in destroying. It would hurt far too much to admit to herself all that she was leaving behind. Better instead that she lay here and focus on trying not to bleed to death, wishing beyond anything else that she could allow her eyes to drop and close on all that surrounded her. Not that she was inviting death; preservation was paramount, but rather sleep. It annoyed her that she wouldn't allow herself to rest; her body demanded it, her slayer healing demanded it, yet she wouldn't. She couldn't.
She had nothing left. Her eyes fighting the fuzzy blur of unfocused to ignore the inner rambling of her mind. She had nothing left..?
Then why would her eyes not close upon Faith?
Author's Notes: It occurred to me earlier, that I have no mention of Robin anywhere in this story. Having considered the best way to go, it is my deep regret to announce that he died in the battle. Robin Wood, son of a slayer, had no surprises to deliver to keep him fighting the good fight. His death was fast, yet really painful, and he died without anyone ever knowing whether his skills were mad or lacking. I'm sure his mother would be proud.
Author's Notes 2: You feedbackers are all truly fantastic. Thank you.
Dedicated: For now I shall stick with the ass. I'm very loyal to the ass.
The bus rumbled on along the road without any thought of particular direction, its only purpose still remaining, to get everyone the hell away from the hell that had opened out in a ragged abyss behind them. Giles didn't think it mattered too much beyond that right now. If he could just get them far away enough to call safe, if he could just remember which way was the best way to reach a nearest hospital, then maybe where they were would perhaps start to matter. All that truly mattered to him was the sight that made his eyes wince every time he cast them up to catch glances in the mirror above his head.
Buffy. Looking every bit as small as her frame insisted she surely was. No rod of steel holding her shoulders ever straight, no air of invincibility to stop the pain from lacing out across her lips. A firm line. A tight line.
Always the one holding the line.
Without a doubt, he was worried about her. Not having had the time to check her wound, he still knew the severity that caused the blood to stain such deep red across her top. Not a scratch, something to be sighed at and then tended. It was deeper than that, it was the reason he berated himself into trying to remember the geography of this god forsaken country; where they were, where they were going, and where the blasted hell he would find a bloody hospital!
The slam of his hands against the steering wheel caused more than a few curious gazes to be pointed his way. The new slayers that weren't busy bleeding onto the leather of the chairs, the battle weary Scooby gang who would never get used to an outburst of emotion as un-British as hands slamming against anything; they all looked. Eyes finding the energy to seek him out, a faint murmur wondering what the drama was now. Yet she, his slayer, she still wouldn't find the change in direction needed to soothe his worry, still wouldn`t meet his eyes. They were stuck fast.
Not away from behind them, like she had insisted they drive, but stuck firmly behind them. Gaze drawn like the poised string of a waiting crossbow to the slayer, the other slayer, one of many slayers, unconsciously resting on the seat that sat at the back of the bus.
Giles couldn't even begin to fathom what Faith's sudden reappearance meant in the grand old scheme of things; whether it was a case of good, whether it was a case of bad. Maybe there were prophesies, a codex that spoke of comas and rebirth…
Being the man that he was, he knew full well that none of those things would have any baring on what would occur in the future. He understood more than most why Buffy's eyes were so adamant in their perusal of the fallen one. His shoulders often the ones there to bear the weight of her guilt over everything that had ever happened in the history of The Chosen Two. Not that he would ever allow her to apportion blame. His glasses always rubbed with renewed efficiency when she had wanted to offer words to him about the loss of her humanity, the things that set her apart; four years a long time to wonder if you've killed someone, if you have snubbed out life. If you're as dark, deep down, as the thing you had tried to eradicate. Gazing at her now with a pride that was so much more than the pride of a watcher, he could see only light. But then, his gaze wasn't being met. He knew. Her gaze, and the things that she saw, they would be the only things that had any baring whatsoever on what would occur.
So lost was Giles in his thoughts, in the straight road which opened up before him, that he didn't even notice the one which crept closer to wonder at his own state. Shocked by the crack of hands against steering wheel, concerned at the loss of control in one who always exerted control.
"Giles, you okay?"
Willow's voice was hopeful, looking for that port in a storm that always made sense. Knowing that sense was definitely gonna be needed in the aftermath of all of the nonsense.
They had destroyed Sunnydale. Wiped it from the map. Gone. Just like that. A crater to scar the map like infected teenage acne that had been scratched one too many times. It certainly felt like nonsense when she thought about it that way.
"Willow? I'm fine… is everyone else…"
"Fine? As in feeling dandy and fine, or fine, as in, stiff upper lips, please ignore the way my hands are digging deep into the steering wheel, fine?"
She had to point that out. His knuckles *were* straining white from the effort of clutching.
"I'm fine Willow."
And it was hard to argue with a tone that steady. But then, she hadn't become a kick-ass uber witch by hanging onto meek, and mindful. "Okay, I see we're gonna be going with the stiff upper lip version - which is great, I respect the Britishness - but truthfully Giles? I think you should let Kennedy drive for a while. Take some down time."
Kennedy had already asked. Already offered. Kennedy had to do something or else she was going to explode from sitting doing nothing except listening to the sound of new power roaring fast through her body.
Willow sensed the feeling in her girlfriend, it was hard not to. The keening intensity in her eyes, the ragged breathing harsh from a fight; Kennedy was openly embracing everything that being a slayer meant. All of it.
"Kennedy wishes to drive?"
"Uh-huh. She's got a whole tank full of energy, ready to roll…" Her back straightening as she felt again the force of that keening intensity slipping and sliding across the curves of her back. Making all those tingles from the earlier magic evaporate to be replaced by bigger tingles. Different tingles. The kind of tingles that needed to be kept firmly in check on the bus marked crowded. "…she *needs* something to do Giles. Let her drive?"
He had no reason to refuse. "Very well. Perhaps she'll be able to make sense of where we are, where we're going."
His lips restrained from humming the opening bars to 'Road to Nowhere', as he steered the bus over to the side and relieved himself from driving duty. He *was* British, that was true, but even his finely tuned sense of dry British humour couldn't force the amusement out past dust coated lips.
At least he had direction now. His aged shoulders finding that steel rod to force straightness as he turned to face his slayer. To do as he always did. Tending her wounds, tending her spirit. Bringing her gently back to that place where he knew her humanity would always shine bright.
His slayer also wasn't concerning herself with the direction that the bus was taking. What did it matter when all of her thoughts were sequestered so firmly behind her? Looking back. Her ears assaulted by the solemn tone of a storytelling Andrew, whispering tales all tall into the ears of the regrouping potentials.
She immediately scratched that thought. Not potentials - not anymore - these girls had realised their potential. Buffy herself had made sure of that. And now she wished she could make sure of the fact that none of them got to hear this drawn out tale of darkness and deceit. This one sided story that always ended in the worst possible way. A story she hated hearing, a story she hated anyone hearing.
"…Faith. Her name alone invokes awe… a set of principles or beliefs on which you are willing to devote your life…" Andrew basked in the attention being given his way. A welcome distraction from the hell they were driving away from. His tone catching grave to mirror the sight of the fallen warrior laying inanimate, and barely breathing, on the seat behind them. Casting his arm out to bring grandeur to each of his statements; "…the dark slayer. A lethal combination of beauty, power and death."
Could Buffy choke on words which weren't hers? And while she was at it, could she please, maybe, just for one moment, manage to tear her eyes away from the one who it was that supposedly invoked such awe. Wicked awesome.
Five by five.
Sound bites ripping chunks from her ass whilst memories crept on up to take a taste too.
"But like so many tragic heroes, Faith was seduced by the lure of the dark side… she wrapped evil around her like a large, evil, Mexican serape."
Was there truth in any of that..? As Buffy lost herself in the memory of pain tainted eyes, and words of betrayal, she found herself questioning again, like so many empty nights of unanswered questions; was it really the lure that seduced the tragic hero..?
Or had the seduction existed only in the touches they ripped from each other, in words always baiting to take a step further. Really, was a lure still considered a lure when it felt like a push?
"…she became a cold blooded killer…"
Didn't we all?
The crack of hands meeting steering wheel broke her thoughts for just a second. The second when she would have sunk deeper to consider the parity of their actions. When the four year merry-go- round of thoughts would have gathered her up and settled her back in for the same familiar ride. There *was* a crack though, and again her eyes dumped the fuzzy, to focus on what lay broken before her.
Not so five by five anymore. Not so anything.
She let the silence of that thought soothe her aching head while Andrew regrouped his words after the welcome interruption. Maybe he would forget the story. Maybe he'd find something else to focus on other than the mysterious form of the mysterious rogue slayer, suddenly lain before them like a gift from the gods. Yeah. She had real high hopes of that happening. Even Dawn had crept closer to him to relive the days when their biggest foe had been one of her firmest friends.
It didn't take him long to regain his stride. He was, after all, a storyteller. "Faith has a history not to be taken lightly. She's a killer. Never forget that…" Buffy's chest tightened as the words sunk down low, as Andrew's eyes drew grave again to the subject of his story time tale; "…you must stay on guard around Faith at all times. Your very lives may depend upon it."
"Oh for goodness sake Andrew! Stop with the melodrama. Go and help Kennedy navigate, go on! Shoo!"
She couldn't even raise a smile at the unexpected words of her watcher. Breaking the silence, not dampening the violence that was twisting tight through her soul. Just looking at her… just seeing her… just…
"Hey Buffster, you're looking a little worse for wear there."
Just letting the words of other friends, not just her watcher now, bring her slowly round to face the front of the bus. Not wanting to, but maybe *needing* to, something to break the cycle of feelings and thoughts which were dragging her down. Hadn't she just been all superhero gal again? Shouldn't she be able to find a smile?
"Sorry, Xander?" she asked. Cos hearing words was one thing, making sense of them was something else.
"You, looking worse for wear."
Her eyes dropped to the shirt which was showing stains of heavy bleeding, could only imagine what the rest of her even began to look like. But then…
Her eyes twisted unwittingly back to their former resting place. Seeing the damage. "All the cool slayers are wearing it. It's a look."
Xander ignored her direction of glances - he wasn't ready to revisit that place yet himself - and instead cast his eyes to Willow. A little concern showing, a little bewilderment obvious in his one good eye as he held onto his concern for Buffy. "Can you do anything to patch her up?"
"No can do buddy. I'm all out of magic. The mojo has left the building."
"Giles..?"
"Xander, I'm sure that Buffy will be fine. As soon as we reach some sign of civilisation, we'll check into a hospital…"
"Wait!" Buffy fought through the flecks of white lighting that flashed pain behind her eyes, to pull herself up further to sitting. "Who said anything about hospital? Maybe some of the girls need attention, but I'm definitely on the good side of okay."
"Buff, if I had a flashlight I could shine it right through you. That's a hard injury to dismiss."
She knew that Xander meant well, but he wasn't making her feel well. She knew that she wasn't dying, at least not today, and all that his concern was doing, was distracting her mind from the places it wished to return to. Her body tensing of its own will as Giles had reached out a tender hand, had placed it upon her shoulder in a sign of caring affection.
"Buffy, I know that this is tough, but we really need to make a plan. Do you have any clue where you wish to head to?"
Could she point a vague finger again?
"Can't you steer the ship?"
"Unfortunately I have no idea where we are. Though…" Giles allowed his own gaze to follow the track of Buffy's. Seeing for himself the evidence of a girl, he had never really thought to see again. Buffy may have long wished for her return to consciousness, but it wasn't a wish he was particularly fond of. "…maybe with our new set of circumstances, it would be prudent to seek Angel's help?"
He noticed the way that her eyes widened to his words, slowly closing as she silently weighed up the forming thoughts of a plan.
"Angel..? Do you think… I don't know?"
"He helped to deal with Faith before. I think it bears consideration."
Deal with Faith? They didn't even know what the deal *was* with Faith. Buffy had no rebuttal though. Could see in her friend's eyes that they thought it was the right way to go. And so she nodded. Barely perceptible, her gaze already leaving them again to keep up her vigil, looking for answers to questions she hadn't yet asked.
What was Faith's deal? Why was she here? Why now?
All held prisoner by her tongue as she instead agreed to the course of direction. Not even bothering to call on the strength needed to argue against a hospital.
"That's settled then. We shall drop the wounded off and then I will seek to make contact with Angel."
Giles new plans giving him something to do. Urging Xander to help him relay the news to the others, discussing with Kennedy the fastest route into LA. The directions they would need to find the Hyperion. It was a relief. The time he had just spent in Buffy's company had not offered the reassurance he had hoped he would find. Rather the opposite. He did not know the exact thoughts that she was torturing herself with, but he knew without doubt that the pain behind his slayer's eyes was nothing to do with the wound that sat untended beneath her shirt. It was everything to do with what she was forcing her eyes to see.
Willow had done the rounds with Xander, checking on the girls again, letting them know that an end to the journey was nearly in sight. Hospital for those that needed it, a hotel and shower for those that could stand. It wasn't the victory party that the saving of the world deserved, and she really *did* want to make a big deal for the newly created slayers, but it was for now, the best that they could do. Plus; with Faith. Willow was glad they were heading towards Angel.
A gladness she tried to subdue as she retook her place next to her battle weary best friend. Sighing at the tiredness that sat so plainly on her face, at the glassy faraway look that still focused on the occupied seat at the back of the bus.
"Hey." She spoke softly, mindful not to make her jump, not to make her crash. "Just between us girls, how are you really holding up?"
"By a thread. You?"
"It's strange… Sunnydale, just gone like that. Anya…"
"Spike."
"Everyone Buffy. It's just so surreal. Do you think we're all trapped in some kind of dream state, we'll wake up in the morning and this will just be the freaky side effect of another freaky spell?"
Did Buffy think that? "No. It's real. It's all gone."
Making Willow fall silent, making her consider every memory left behind, every whisper of old caresses that still blew on the breeze, every landmark that reminded her of who she was. Who she had been.
"And here comes the homesick."
Venturing words not making Buffy turn. But then Willow was getting used to that, still talking even though Buffy's focus was so obviously elsewhere. It led to talk of Faith. It seemed the only relevant subject.
"I think maybe it was me that woke her up Buffy. Just so you know, in case this all goes bad. It was probably my fault."
There. She admitted it.
"Huh?" And look. That turned them eyes for a moment, brought them back round to front. "Did I miss something?"
"No, no missing. Just, the spell. You know, releasing all that power, awakening slayers everywhere…"
"What does Giles say?"
"I haven't, to Giles, yet. I thought, with the way… you seem mighty uh… interested in Faith."
Oh Goddess. That *really* brought the eyes back around quick.
"It's not interest Wills, it's… concern. I wouldn't be a good slayer if I saved the world, and then Faith woke up and massacred you all on this bus, would I?"
"No?"
"No. Not of the good. I'm just being concerned. I'm watching her."
And if this was watching, Willow wanted a new definition for obsessive staring, cos that was what she had been seeing. "You want me to help *watch* for awhile?"
"So you don't think it means anything?"
Willow caught the curveball, tossed it up in the air and threw it right back. "Do you want it to?"
"Maybe. I thought I had given up on it. Then, when I realised, when the town went tumbling down…" she looked at Faith again. Right before her. Not buried. Not lost. "…she was everything I was thinking about having to lose."
"And then she was there. Wow. I guess, if I was you, maybe I'd be all looking for the meaning. I'm not you though Buffy, and I'm telling you, the spell; it's all to blame."
Or to thank? Buffy wasn't quite sure on that one just yet. She thought she was sure, she thought she felt gratitude growing beneath the scars of the battle, but she was wholly too tired to tell. Faith's hollow cheeks, the faint, but steady, rise and fall of her chest, just the fact that she was here. That was all Buffy was really sure of.
"I was wondering if it wasn't a second chance. I lose everything, but I get back Faith. You sure it's just a spell thing?"
"Mostly, yeah." Willow watched as Buffy deflated a little more into her chair. Leaning her head back, rotating her shoulders. "But it could mean a second chance too! I mean, if she doesn't wanna do the massacre thing."
"That's just it though Will. I *know* she's gonna wanna do the massacre thing. She's still Faith. And she's still there." Buffy's hand raised now in nothing like vague, gesturing towards Faith, imploring Willow to see, to understand. "I did that to her. That's all that she knows."
And whoa, that was just a little bit scary for Willow's liking. She had long, long ago forgotten the feel of cold steel against her neck, the feel of fear that Faith could generate with one penetrative glance, one growled out word of a threat. She had forgotten, she had forgiven. So easy to take the moral high ground and forgive the shell of a body that lie surrounded by machines. No growls and looks, just beeps and nothing.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here - a limb I would really like to keep attached to my body - and maybe suggest the introduction of restraints. Just… just in case?"
Faith didn't look like she was waking anytime this century, but Willow was already realising that some of her memories would be following her from Sunnydale. And not just the happy ones.
"No Wills. No restraints."
"But Buffy…"
"But no. She's weak. And I don't mean, me weak; lost a little blood and my outfits heading to Goodwill, weak. I mean properly weak."
"And slayer healing, have you forgotten about that?"
"Not a chance." Buffy's fingers motioned to her wound again, her insides already straining to start the healing process, her body screaming out for rest so as it could start to do its job. "But we're talking four years Will. Just… just look at her."
Buffy implored again, and so Willow turned to see. Witnessing nothing but the faint outline of the girl they used to know. Used to fear. "I see Buffy, I do. But if she wakes up and tries to kill me, I am not playing nice."
"I understand that. Funnily enough..? Don't think killing *you* is gonna be top of her agenda."
"That makes me feel better."
"Yeah. Fuzzy feelings are the best."
They shared a slight smile. The kind of smile that says, how the heck did we get to crisis time again already? But then, crisis did seem to have a nasty habit of following them around.
When Kennedy called out that they were about to hit the city, Willow pulled herself up and around, ready to go join her girlfriend, ready to put plans into action. She just hoped, really hoped, that crisis wouldn't follow them into LA. Maybe Buffy was wrong, maybe Faith would wake up all full of repentance and good intentions. Something she would believe only when her memory faded, the one where she saw Faith, just a few hours ago, swinging a rage filled punch at her friend.
It made her sigh and turn again, made her offer some final words to Buffy's unhearing ears.
"If she kills you, then I'm not playing nice either!"
Resolute popping up, only to be softened by a Willow smile. Surprised that Buffy had heard her words, surprised that she found a reply.
"She won't kill me. She'll try, but she won't."
"How do you know?"
But Buffy had no reply to that one. Just a shrug of shoulders that held no enlightenment. Her thoughts were becoming so confused, twisting up inside her head, mixing with hope, with fear, every memory laid out broken before her, and her unable to look away.
*She* did that. Had done that.
And, as always, the thought made her feel like the monster she had tried to slay. Was it the spell that awoke her? Was it really a second chance, an opportunity to redo the past?
Or was it simply evil's way of issuing payback. Not a gift from above, but a gift from below.
She stared. She watched. She waited. Accepting that she wouldn't know anything, she wouldn't have the first damn clue, until Faith woke up. Again.
Author's Notes: I promise I'm gonna wake Faith up, and keep her awake, real soon.
Author's Notes 2: I liked this. Now I don't know. Not an interesting note at all, but it sure bugs the shit outta me. Is good to share that kinda stuff.
Dedication: To ALL DJ's with hot asses ;o)
Checking into the hospital had been an easy exercise and passed without incident. None of the wounded particularly wanted to be there, so gloomy faces met Giles' instructions, but not one of them could argue that they didn't *need* to be there. They were all new to this, they didn't realise the extent of the power they had so recently inherited, so they didn't know that the wounds which for now looked deep and morbid, were really not much more than scratches when inflicted upon a slayer. Buffy knew, of course, but in her mind, if she had to be there, then they definitely had to be there; and Giles was more than insistent that she be there.
In the end it had been an argument he didn't need to make. Buffy had not spent the last few hours guarding Faith with everything she had left, to then let her pass from her gaze without needing to follow. Not a chance. So she had offered the tightly clipped smile, allowed herself to be herded like cattle through the sliding doors of LA County Hospital, and then she had taken charge of making sure that her gaze remained unobstructed.
Quite a mean feat when faced with doctors wishing to know what the heck had happened; was there an accident, should the police be called, had they been attacked..? Her head nodding vague, shaking vaguer. It led to outlandish stories of camping trips, bear attacks, car accidents, anything and everything which could help to explain the strange array of wounds which sat upon each of the injured girls. Luckily, and also kinda crazily, the stories were readily accepted; this was LA, most stories were accepted here. What wasn't expected was the commotion Buffy caused when she tried to explain Faith;
"She was in a coma, then she wasn't… and now…"
"Excuse me, she was in a coma?"
"Right, four years worth of coma. She woke up this morning, and then she collapsed…"
"She collapsed? She was… walking? After a four year coma?"
Buffy had assumed that the truth was the best way to go with Faith. She didn't have a clue, not even the start of clues, as to what kind of attention the girl needed, and she was not ready to take chances. Unfortunately, even in LA, this truth was being questioned.
"Uh… sure. She's real strong, ya know, couldn't wait to be up on her feet again."
"And she was on this camping trip, with the rest of you?"
Okay. A little harder to explain. "Sure! You know what they say, gotta keep the sleeping mind stimulated! We thought it might help to wake her up, I guess we thought right."
"Right."
The doctor was beyond bemused. He often got to see the weird and wonderful while working at this hospital, but he couldn't recall a day when he'd had so many strange cases to deal with all at once. This latest one; this really sealed the deal. A coma patient who got up and walked after four years of sleeping. No way. Didn't happen.
It was those kind of thoughts which had him recommend a private room for the dark haired girl, somewhere that they could observe exactly what was going on with her, away from the general population of the rest of the hospital. Buffy would never allow that.
She *hadn't* allowed that. The tone of her quiet, yet intensely hard voice, making the doctor absolutely sure that she would be sharing the same room. There was no telling what would happen if Faith awoke again to find herself alone. Lost. Buffy would stay with her, she would watch over her, and when the time came and Faith awoke, she would be waiting there to greet her.
Buffy understood what it was like to be shoved back into a world that you didn't understand, all alone and afraid. And regardless of anything, of everything, she would do what she could to prevent Faith from experiencing that torment again.
Willow had watched the fraught exchange between doctor and patient, they all had, yet not one of them had found a place where they had felt comfortable to intervene. She had wanted to, just maybe, drag Buffy aside and explain to her that Faith was not her albatross, she didn't have to hang her quite so heavily from around her neck. But there would have been no point; not only would an ancient mariner's rime, be lost on Buffy, but also, Willow had seen the steel. Slayer steel. Slayer power. Slayer, slayer, slayer. Forgetting savage wounds that ripped through her body, just remembering the creep she could send down necks, as eyes that determined stared out her demands. Oh - Willow had felt sorry for the doctor then, had almost wanted to gently pat him on the arm afterwards and assure him that he hadn't just been crushed by the will of a slight and wounded girl, he had, in fact, been crushed by a slayer.
Yeah. She figured out real quick that that little speech wouldn't help any, so she had kept it to herself, offered different words to different others instead. Little pep talks for all of the patients, promises that they only had to stay one night, that tomorrow they would be right as rain, ready to rumble, ready to resume the rest of their lives.
And then she had reached the room where two slayers lie in private seclusion. Not sure if she had to knock, not sure what she thought she was invading. It *did* feel like invasion though, like she was interrupting something she didn't understand. Something she had never wanted to understand.
A sigh chasing away them kind of memories, as her hand did indeed lift to ask entry, her little tap immediately answered by Buffy's little voice. Tired again now that she had won another battle, that she had assured her eyes that they still had a job to do, they weren't being rested yet.
"Nice digs Buffy, who did ya have to threaten to get this place?"
"Funny. I didn't threaten him, I asked, real nice, I even smiled… did you see the smile?"
"Yeah, very… friendly." Willow walked her way inside the room, taking in the simplicity, noting Faith over by the window, Buffy taking the spot nearest the door. "So, what did they say?"
Blank looks. Yet Willow was sure she had seen the doctors visit already, had waited and watched outside for the doctors to leave again. "The doctors Buff, what did they say?"
"Oh, of course. I got stitches, matching, back and front. You wanna see?"
Buffy lifted her top gingerly to show Willow a scar which would last maybe a few days. Her body was strong, her body was powerful, there would be no scars leaving staining marks across her abdomen. For now though, it was a scar that made Willow gasp a little, step forwards to admire the matching sides and matching stitches. "What about… inside, is it, did they..?"
"No. I already glued myself back together in there, I guess. Just these, some in my shoulder. No big."
Right. No big. "And…" Her eyes taking in the other no big. "…what did they say about coma girl?"
"Faith."
"Yeah. Faith."
The wary inflection that wrapped itself around the girl's name, did not go unmissed by Buffy. She expected it of course, half of her believed that she also should be feeling more fear at the reappearance of Faith, but she didn't, and so it made it hard to assuage the fears of others. How could any of them fear Faith when she was just so obviously broken?
"They don't know anything Wills, they don't believe she was in a coma, they don't believe she woke up from a coma… I think they want to treat her for dehydration, maybe malnourishment… ask Giles. He was in here."
"So they think she's gonna be better?"
"Like I said; ask Giles. I don't think they know anything until she wakes up."
Willow had figured as much, none of them really knowing anything until Faith woke up. She waited now, as Buffy offered that little shrug, as she pulled herself up on her bed and made to settle down with eyes still watching, and she thought again of the albatross. The signs of guilt, of penance, that were wrapping the weight of the world around her friend's shoulders yet again. It hurt.
"Buffy?" she spoke as she approached the bed, smiling softly as room was made for her to sit. "You don't have to do this to yourself, you don't… it isn't like you owe her anything." She kept her eyes on Buffy, not looking at Faith, easier to speak about her, when she didn't remind herself that she was right there in the room. Not six feet away. Not six feet under. "You know if she'd had the chance, she would've done the same to you. Worse to you."
"Would she?"
Okay. This was crazy. Willow could understand - she *knew* - Buffy felt bad about stabbing Faith. Yadda-yadda-yadda. But this, whatever it was, like some kind of crazy denial of what Faith was, who she had been; it wasn't good. It was the opposite of good. It was bad.
"You *know* she would have! What about Xander, huh? What about me..?"
"You're both still here though, Wills."
"Yes! But no thanks to Faith. She was a killer Buffy, she was bad. You know that, I know you know that."
The memories which frazzled across the tired mind of Buffy, were assuring her that she knew that Willow knew that she knew that… okay, so she wasn't sure of what she was knowing, but the memories sure felt like pain. Faith's desire to hurt her, only matched by one other desire, and that desire was nothing but fuel to the first. And all of it spelt pain.
A pain which reverberated and tore rips through her conscience, which forced her eyes to see the mess that she had made, all laid out in front of her. Willow chose not to look. Buffy had no choice. "Maybe it's different now."
"And maybe it's not. You said yourself Buffy, she's still there, she's gonna still want her pound of flesh."
Could she cut through the un-pleasantries and just offer up the appropriate pound, Buffy wondered. Would that appease Faith's plaintive plea for payback? Would that level out the scales of justice to even?
If someone had offered her the tools, she maybe would have done it right then. Not eager to dice and slice, especially not her own flesh, but something so very far past eager to have answers. Something to stop her mind from whirling, from trying to figure out what the hell was happening, and more importantly, what the hell was going to happen.
"We just… look, can't we at least wait till she wakes up, to get in line and condemn her? I know there's gonna be issues, but let me at least fool myself for five minutes that this might possibly just work out."
Buffy's eyes didn't flash steel at Willow, she didn't try and strong arm her into accepting her will, she just showed her tiredness, her confusion, a sad smile which spoke of how much she wanted to believe that it could all work out okay.
"I'm just scared Buffy. You can't blame me for being scared."
"You're a big bad Wicca, and you're scared of that?" Her arm raised towards Faith, towards the machine monitoring her heart which beeped out that same monotonous tune of existence. "You faced The First evil, and now you're scared of Faith?"
"No. Not quite. It's more like, scared, for you. I know how she gets under your skin Buffy, I remember how she got under your skin, and I prefer you all, ya know, own skin under. And with you being all…"
"Being all what?"
Uh? Willow wanted to say, interested in Faith, again, but that didn't cover it, didn't say what she really wanted to say. Their former home may have thrived upon ignorance and denial, but deep down, Willow had read the signs. Not liked the directions, but she *had* read the signs.
"Affected..?" Did that sound right? "Yeah. Affected by Faith… I just worry you're gonna get caught out. Your guard isn't up."
"Maybe I'm sick of guards right now. Can't I just be guard free gal for a bit?" It sounded so much easier. Buffy didn't think she had the strength for guards right now. The day had been like a never ending endurance test, and she was sure her endurance was soon to be found wanting. Also… "And I'm not affected by Faith, I'm affected by the things we did to each other, the things that she made me do…"
"And the difference is?"
"There's a difference."
A thin line. A fine line. Not letting herself read between the lines.
"Sure. A real big difference."
Willow let it go. There wasn't anything to gain from this conversation now, there was nothing that she could do to release Buffy from her burden. Maybe it would change when Faith woke up, when she showed her true colours, good or bad. Until then this was a pointless exercise, just seeking to exhaust her friend more, rather than making her see sense.
She decided to do the only thing that did make sense. Finally assuring her own exhausted mind that rest was soon to be forthcoming. She needed to rest. She needed to replenish her own waning power. Because as sure as she wasn't about all that was yet to pass, she was more than sure that she would be needing her power.
"I'm gonna head on out with the others, go find Angel, give him the good news. Shower, change, rest. Will you be okay till I get back?"
"Huh?" Already gone. Already back inside the gaze that never wavered. "Yeah. Go. I'll be fine."
Barely looking up to find a wave as Willow had left the room. Every moment pausing, wondering, waiting… would this be the moment when she woke up?
Against the odds, she had fought the need for sleep for the longest time. Her eyes red and pained with the effort of staying wrenched open, her whole body cramping with the demand to seek rest. It was inevitable that she would fall. A blink, which turned into a moment of peace, which turned into the setting for a dreamscape. Asleep. At last.
Her breathing much deeper than the girl beside her, inherent steadiness, inherent strength. But the eyes which sought to rest behind her eyelids, they were becoming just as unsettled. Little flickers at first, the tell tale sign that dream sleep is approaching, that the real world is slowly fading.
For Buffy it faded first, her mind not swirling in the same abyss as Faith's, able to pick a point, a place that offered her the peace she needed after enduring all that had been tormenting her. Not sure if she had summoned Faith there, knowing that she wouldn't know how to, if she was asked to, yet also knowing her thoughts had been trapped only in Faith; the same thoughts which had led her to here.
The white light not harsh and harmful, not making her shield her eyes in pain, but soft light, warm light, infusing her soul, offering her refuge and sanctuary. Buffy knew where she had brought them to; this was heaven. Her heaven.
The bed which had held her rest all those months, still waiting, her place still assured, and she headed that way now, unable not to reach out and touch. Smiling at the fresh sheets her mind had produced, sat off to the side, waiting to be laid upon the bed.
"Damn. I know we're in *your* head this time."
The first words Buffy had heard, the first time those tones had tickled her senses in years. Sure, there had been the timid taunts outside of the crumbling school, but none of those words held Faith. They were too broken. No, this was Faith. Buffy's eyes raising from the bed to take a look at the one who had been occupying her mind.
"You're fixed." The words streaming as if on playback. No thought to say them, just the compelling need to release the sound.
"Yeah. I'm a tough cookie."
Buffy smiled at that. A look of pure pleasure. Her hands reaching out to pick up the sheets, beginning the task of making her bed. Paving the way towards rest. "Help me?"
"I never did know how." Yet Faith was already moving. Her own head not finding the confusion of the dream, just accepting the space, the room, something comforting in her soul. Her hands moving as if making the bed with Buffy was the most natural thing in the world, timeless, smoothing over sheets, a careful placing of pillows. "Sure is a big bed for a solitary hero."
"One girl in all the world. One girl all alone."
"That's what they say."
Their eyes meeting then, across the bed. Not scared, not fearful, no harrowing look of yesteryears resentful envy, no boasting to the other of the pain they could inflict. They met in peace. The patience taken to truly understand. To see past the spills of old wrongdoings, to settle in a look of truth which eased out across the dreamscape.
Buffy felt it to her core. She felt the hope and the belief, and she felt a spirit able to endure anything. It compelled more of her words. More of the kind she didn't think to say, that were just said.
"That's only because they don't know about the comics by the bedside."
Faith's smile raising as much as hers. "We done here?"
"Just pass my comforter?" The last thing to make it right. Her hand reaching out to take the offering from Faith, no idea how it got here or why, just waiting for delivery. Ignoring that feeling that was creeping slow up her spine… a crawling…
"You not grown out of this yet?"
Expecting to look down and see Mr Gordo. Not the thing that was sitting cold and vengeful in Faith's hand. Shining in the light that was fading fast from comfort, that was chasing her already, even though she remained standing still.
"Faith..?"
Her voice breaking now, eyes drawn to the bed as it grew mind numbingly cold, as the sheets lay in tatters, as everything was broken again.
"It's okay." And Faith. Not knowing. Not knowing how this world was twisting already to bring all of her demons crashing back round to face her. Foolish of Buffy to think she could ensconce them safe in heaven when so much of Faith resided in hell.
Her eyes were still smiling as they looked toward Buffy, almost done now. Not knowing why the other's green eyes seemed to be growing darker with each breath of time, still advancing towards her, determined to give her the comfort she requested. Finally, almost begrudgingly, looking down, looking to see exactly what it was that she was offering;
"Even I know that's a fucked up metaphor for comfort, B."
And with those words, the world came crashing down. Her distaste at seeing the knife, only matched by her fear at feeling it, her wound festering and reopening, blood spilling down upon the pureness of the white sheets to open up a pit to hell. Swallowing her instantly, slipping and sliding down the sides, her hands clawing to find purchase, to drag herself back up.
A hand. A grasp. Clutching, grabbing…
Words again.
"I won't let you fall… I'm pulling you up…"
Buffy's voice finding desperate, trapped, not understanding what went wrong, how they got here. Why they left there. She knew it had changed though, she knew that they were in Faith's head now, she knew that this much pain could never be all hers. She pulled harder, could feel herself slipping, realising that Faith was struggling against her, not with her.
"Don't sugar coat the truth B, you know I'm pulling you down."
Faith didn't know where the venom had come from, but now that it was back she held it close to her heart, feeding the memories, understanding the pain. Her hand a vice around Buffy's as she invited her down to hell.
Her breaths fought to stay in her body the harder that she ran, legs pumping, heart racing. She could feel the hunter behind her, closing in on her. Payback. Revenge. Buffy. The mirrored reflection of every bad act, the total opposite of all she ever was. Chasing her down, murder in mind.
It made Faith push harder, ducking between gravestones which had always felt like home, trying to outrun the past, the truth which pursued her like ghosts in the night.
It was different here, it wasn't about making peace; it was about the hurt and the pain. The other side to the coin. Nothing mattering except the life which had always been hers.
"You think you can escape what you've done?"
Fuck. Her voice. Echoing out all around her. Not Buffy soft, but slayer hard. Determined. Making Faith's eyes dart in every direction, wanting to plead with anyone for an escape, a way out of this, this endless cycle of agony.
"The blood keeps on flowing Faith…"
Her hands covered, dripping crimson, her clothes covered, the gash across her top opening with every encumbered step.
"…The pain keeps on growing Faith."
God. Singsonging it down into her soul. Her knees weak, breaking beneath her, delivering her body to the earth. Laying prone and unprotected as Buffy moved closer to her side, as she lifted up her hand in a final pause.
"What, ya don't wanna play with the big pretty knife?"
"Please…"
Every bad feeling crawling over her, crawling inside of her. Itching. Making her skin burn with the need to rip it free, to uncover herself, to destroy herself… "Please?"
"I thought you liked playing with knives, F?"
Trying to inch back as the slayer leant over her, the tip of the knife dragging pretty patterns slow across her skin, making tingles of fear slide free with the blood. All of it caressing her, heaven sent, hell sent, Buffy sent. Remembered caresses, forgotten ones…
The final one.
"Welcome back Faith."
Plunging deep. Killing her.
The machine by Faith's bed was beeping in frantic urgency, hitting every high note, calling forth help. Designed for this purpose, to signal emergencies, to scream loud when a patients heart sailed off through the roof. Screaming now. No monotony. Until there was silence.
Flatline. Finished.
The wires ripped from Faith's body as she had ripped herself from sleep. Her whole body was on fire with the memory of the dream, a shared dream? She remembered Buffy there, she remembered the look in her eyes… not the bed, god, the bed was so far from the fear which encased each of her limbs. Eyes darting, eyes fixing, eyes finding their pain.
"Buffy."
Knowing if she could just, if that voice, if she could just end it now…
Her gaze flitting round not for hope of escape, but to find a weapon, anything, immediately drawn to the chair by Buffy's bedside. Knowing how much damage she could inflict before the other girl awoke… if she could just…
Her legs flirting with falling, but holding her firm, not encased in a gown this time, but still wrapped in the denim. She felt stronger. She felt…
A sigh from the sleeping caused her to stop. A sound. She couldn't stop. She had to stop *this*! The fear, all of it, the confusion, no fucking clue anymore as to which god damn way was up, what was down, who the fucking hell she even was anymore.
She lifted the chair high above her head, not thinking, not even trying to enact payback, or revenge. She couldn't think of that now… she just had to stop the fear, the agony of this endless pursuit through hell…
A door crashing back, a witch with wide eyes.
"I knew it!"
The alarms that Faith's heart machine had set off at the nurses station had alerted a newly returned Willow to the idea of danger; and she had known, just known that crisis had found them again. Running down the hall to Buffy's room, the door sent crashing open, and Faith. Stood, same snarl, same twisted sneer residing on her face.
She didn't even get the chance to say 'Red', to annoy Willow with an over friendly, sadistically sarcastic, greeting. Because Red had already taken her down. The mojo returned, the words whispered, and Faith, trapped yet again in a sleep that was neither natural, nor peaceful.
Dedicated: To the Wind Beneath My Wings. Mwa ha ha ha ha.
The four Scoobies had stood in silence while contemplating the small screen which showed them Faith. A grainy picture, a TV show, nothing which felt quite real. No sound to be heard, because she was making no sound. No movement to be seen, because she remained completely still. How they had left her.
Xander had been the one to switch on the monitoring equipment. His curiosity leading him to press the button, breaking through the discussion of the hospital escape, through Giles' quiet rebuke at Willow's easy use of magic.
"It was just a little mind bending Giles! No worse than in Sunnydale, no different than pretending to be agents for Interpol!"
"That's beside the point. You mustn't get used to relying on magic again, you know how…"
"Buffy, tell him!"
Oh yes. Xander had removed his gaze from the unwelcome confrontation in front of him, to look for welcome distractions behind him. Drawn to the small TV, fingers moving idly to see what was on.
"Uh… guys?"
Not sure at first. His mind not quite believing that not only did Angel have a cage in his basement, he also had that cage wired up to CCTV. It fed him images disturbing… thoughts he wasn't comfortable thinking. "Seriously, guys, what's this?"
Invoking the silence as they had turned to see. As they had witnessed. Here she was. There she was. Welcome Faith.
"Oh. They still have the cameras!"
"You knew about the cameras! Why are there cameras?!"
Xander's voice was unwittingly pleading. His new thoughts much less comfortable than even his previous thoughts. He didn't want Willow playing Mistress of the Dungeon with Angel. He refused to believe it. "Will..?"
Imploring that she put him out of his misery.
"They had cameras to watch Angelus. From before. I forgot all about them, I guess they might come in handy now though."
Willow *had* forgotten about them. Her recent visit to re-ensoul Angel had been so fleeting, due to commitments in Sunnydale, that paying great attention to the details surrounding her, hadn't been paramount. She remembered now though. Looking at the fallen form of the fallen slayer on that same grainy screen. Maybe wishing that it would be as easy to tame all the darkness on show this time around.
"Any idea when she'll be joining us Wills?" Xander leant closer to the screen, flicking at the image of Faith, absently wondering if it would wake her. "Did you set a specific time?"
"I'm not an alarm clock."
"Even still, I'm assuming you set some kind of parameter on the spell that you used?"
The displeasure was evident in Giles' tone, in the stern gaze that met Willow's resolute one. He didn't mean to seem so reproachful, he knew that she was doing what had to be done to ensure they had managed to leave the hospital unchallenged, but he couldn't suffocate the worry that encased him whenever he thought of Willow with such power. He had worked so hard with her to learn the balance, he had great faith and trust in her, yet still he worried like an over protective father whenever she touched that source. He couldn't help himself.
"What spell was it?" He could soften the tone though. He could swap reproachful for concern. Letting his eyes wrinkle with a smile so that she knew he was just being him.
She wouldn't have it any other way. "An old Druid incantation, I found it in one of your books! I've been waiting forever to try that one out…"
Buffy stayed staring at the screen in front of them, the only member of the gang not to be caring about which spell it was that Willow had used. There was a sleep spell, she knew that much, she had even stood by Willow's side as she had *explained* to the nurses that she was Faith's doctor, that she had to move her to a more private facility. What did it matter the origin of the power..? Especially when Buffy was still caught up in the shock of coming round from *that* dream and learning what she had missed.
Faith woke up. And she hadn't greeted her.
Just one more thing to add to the list of things that she had always meant to do in regards to Faith. One more thing to fall by the wayside. There were so many of these things that she couldn't even think to name them all. She knew where to begin; she knew better about friendship now, she knew better about how to offer that friendship. She knew better about responsibility. Not just responsibility for actions, but responsibility for feelings. For forcing action.
"How long..?" Deciding she was better off not knowing too much more. Better off focusing on the now. How she felt now.
"It's not specific, but it's not very strong either."
So how was she feeling now?
"Is she… can she dream?"
Willow rested her eyes on a friend that did not look rested. Her curiosity obvious in the tone of her voice, gently questioning. "Dreams? Why the interest?"
Silence. More staring.
"Buffy?"
But she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop those dreams from invading her system. The first so peace packed with heaven sent perfection, the second so torturously terrifying as to assure her that hell truly existed, and with demons so much more fierce than even the First Evil could ever hope to produce.
Existing in that hell, existing in the body that had so joyously pursued Faith; it horrified her. Feeling the pain, all of that fear, remembering the way that she had played with that. And she knew. She realised. She was Faith's demon.
She felt sick. She felt guilt.
The hand to the arm shocked her back to face front, refocusing a gaze onto Xander's one good eye, finding her voice for all of them. "There was a dream… in the hospital. We shared a dream."
"Hey, you never said!"
"Sorry Will, slipped my mind." Yep. Slipped her mind to drip down into her soul. So much more damage it could do there.
"Was this a slayer dream Buffy, do you remember details?"
Details? Everyone of them.
"Vague. Hell's fire. Eternal torment. Nothing specific."
She hoped that had covered it, until Giles countered her vague. "Still, it throws up certain pertinent questions. This could be Faith's way of trying to re-establish a connection…"
"And I thought the chair was her way of trying to re-establish a connection. My bad."
"Will…"
"No Buffy. I told you, if she tries the funny, I don't play nice."
Giles wanted to reduce the slump that still sat so obvious in the un- straight shoulders of his slayer. Derailing the move to an argument over Faith. Bringing it back to the details, the safe bits. "Did it feel like you were summoned there, was it similar to before…"
"I… she…" Buffy not wanting to give details. Unwilling to share the start of the dreamscape, to talk about smoothing pillows and meeting gazes, about comics by the bedside. "…we were just there."
"And it was… unpleasant in its nature?"
The feeling still ripping a void through her core, emptying out the good stuff to settle on the bad. Fists that clenched to hold tight to a knife, hands that thrust in unwelcome reminder of taking life. Human life. Faith's life.
It was too much. "It was unpleasant. Can we move on now?"
Slayer steel. Slayer power. No one willing to disagree.
"When's Angel gonna be here." A pause. Buffy's eyes relaxing to settle on Giles, to reach a safe subject. "Where *is* Angel."
Not having a clue.
"Right." Her watcher the man with the uneasy answers. "It seems there's been a certain change in Angel's circumstances since we spoke to him last."
"I spoke to him in a time frame of hours ago, how much can have changed?"
For now she smiled a little.
"I… it seems that perhaps he didn't offer you all of the information when he visited. I assume he didn't give you the origin of the amulet?"
The smile dampening of its own will. A shake of the head.
"I'm not sure of the details completely, I assume that Angel will wish to fill you in on…"
"Giles, can we please cut the crap?"
Again Xander was wanting to pull his gaze away from the unwelcome confrontation. From the tension flowing so fast between slayer and watcher. There was no chance though. He had heard the tale from Angel's mouth, had sat back stunned on his haunches as Giles had conversed in short depth about all that had occurred. He blurted it out without thought to soften the blow. "Angel's gone all Senator Palpatine."
"He's having palpitations?"
Rendering Buffy too confused to wonder if that was even possible.
"More like, the bringer of order and justice, turned head of an evil empire. Star Wars 101... Tell me you understand?"
"Giles?" She watched him and waited. Not smiling through the glasses routine, nothing familiar easing the fear of the unfamiliar that arose with Xander's words. "Translate?"
"It's, well, it pains me to say it Buffy, but it's remarkably like Xander just stated. For some reason, Angel Investigations is moving to Wolfram and Hart…"
"Is this a joke?"
"No, unfortunately there appears to be little reason for cheer. You really need to speak to Angel."
"Yeah. You're right. I do." One more thing. Join the list. Take a number. Roll up. Show starts. And the ride just never stops. "I'll be with Faith."
She didn't care for the looks, or the glances, or the Willow words which called her softly back. What was the point in making no sense upstairs, when she could make so much less sense down below?
Faith wouldn't wake alone again. Faith wouldn't attack her again.
Faith was behind bars.
It was cold down here in the basement, with nothing but the memories to keep her company. No other's shoulders to lean her weight upon, because no one else could even begin to understand what it was that she was going through. Heck, Buffy herself barely had a clue what she was going through. Why she was feeling like this.
She could not deny to herself that she had often thought of Faith over the last four years; a different Faith, the kind of Faith that might have existed if things had been different. But even so, she still knew that this level of, what… interest? Concern? Affectedness..?
Was affectedness a word? Was it the right word? Affection..?
Affect. She *knew* that this affect was all wrong.
This absolute determined need to watch over the sleeping Faith, this unquenchable thirst to have all of her words flowing fast down a path that sounded like defence.
Buffy was not stupid. Even with one thousand, four hundred and fifty nine days to smother her righteousness with a deep sense of guilt, she still understood that not everything was defendable. Not everything that Faith had done could be boiled down and softened by cause and effect. Something's just were.
And sometimes she still thought of the Faith that had become. Her memory twisting in the same way that Faith's sneer had twisted so tight on her face, burning with contempt, every angle covered by the reminder of the pain. Oh yes. Because nothing had cut deeper than that first sight of betrayal, the first time Faith had spat in the face of every single one of the principles that Buffy held dear. Good over evil. Such a hard line to tow?
All of those days, all of those nights, and Buffy still couldn't find a defence for that one. Couldn't excuse the inexcusable. No matter the condemnation she had welcomed into her heart for the outcome, her spirit refused outright to accept that lures or pushes, any motivation, could deserve action as hurtful and soul destroying as betrayal.
They were the Chosen Two. And that was the kind of partnership that was made not to be broken.
That Faith *had* broken. Right..?
A wry smile settled on her lips as she pulled herself up from the stairs. She had argued this around in her head so many times, that she was sure the devil's advocate had set up shop there. One minute she could put everything down to the lure, the next she could put everything down to the push… and right now she just wanted to put everything down.
For a moment then, as Faith's hollow breath's echoed all around her, she had convinced herself that the righteous side was winning the argument; it often did. Only then her eyes had settled again on a broken form and her own breathing had become hollow, the wry smile had settled. No side was winning the argument, except for the side which felt so god damn affected.
And was that every side?
And could she please stop thinking and concentrate! Not caring that concentrating often led to thinking, just caring that she wanted to have something to say when Faith awoke. Something non-threatening, yet something which said so much more than Hello. Welcome back. Oh, and by the way..? You were gone for four years.
It drove the smile down in favour of a frown, because she knew better that there was no easy way of phrasing that little piece of information. It sounded pretty whack to her own ears, and she had been here for the whole of the four years. Not counting when she wasn't here. And that was even more whack. God. If her head span much quicker she could call herself a whack job. A whacko. Wanting not much more than to whack her head hard against the nearest surface of resistance.
She focused her eyes and realised that that would be the bars of the cage, the bars she had seemingly, without thought, wrapped her hands hard around. Testing the strength. Wondering if Willow's extra bonds of magic would keep the might of a pissed slayer firmly locked inside. They felt strong enough to her hands, but then, she wasn't pissed. She was just a whack job.
A thought which kept the circles mapped out as her feet paced the claustrophobic space of the basement. Gaze flicking furtively up to the camera, before falling once more upon the still form of Faith. Each step wondering if the bars were strong enough to keep out a slayer who was spiralling close to madness.
She hated patience. She hated this waiting. She wanted actions, reactions, cause and effect. She wanted answers.
She wanted Faith to defend the indefensible. To take the betrayal and make it hurt less, to assure that it was never her heart that had turned so traitorous, that it had never run that deep. A mistake. A hiccup. Something like regret.
It felt different this time. She wasn't being pursued from sleep with rips to her skin and words coated in revenge, she was being lifted slowly… like floating. An effervescent feeling which bubbled along her limbs in a kind of psychedelic bout of pins and needles. If she knew her mind she'd consider it kinda trippy; even in her non knowing state of mind, she felt something like a smile lift the corners of her mouth. It felt good. It felt odd.
Her tongue tracing the lifting lips and thinking of strawberries. Wondering absently if the cat had got the cream.
"Faith..?"
A whisper settling in her ears to provide a soundtrack to an awakening. Her awakening. Letting the fizz tickle her arms and legs into stretching, letting her body succumb to the need to move. To exist.
"Faith..?" Lips lifting further, arms wanting to reach out and find the comfort in that voice. "Are you awake..?"
Maybe offer comfort to the hesitancy in the tone.
Comfort?
And her eyes slammed open on the memory.
'Even I know that's a fucked up metaphor for comfort, B.'
The same words sent to send the world crashing down.
She remembered the violence as her body twisted to find the right way up, not caring if muscles still screamed out resistance, just needing the protection of the right direction, needing to face her. To find her. Defend and attack.
"Faith, wait, it's okay… I'm not gonna… it isn't…" Eyes finding sight through the obstruction of bars, little strips which tore at the image of Buffy, words which tore at something even more sacred, which ripped right through to her core. "…just relax. Just… deep breaths."
Damn fucking right deep breaths! The deepest. Whole lungfuls which fed the hate she kept close, inflating her heart with all she remembered, all she'd forgot.
"You."
Stated with venom. With lips that had settled into something so much scarier than a smile, a leering perversity which crawled across Buffy's skin in ways which even the meanest of vamps could never hope to reproduce. It erased all thoughts, all un-stated arguments which cited defence. It left only feelings.
Buffy's feet pinned now as she withered under the penetrating force of Faith's wicked glare. So much hate. Leading her to wonder if a gaze that sharp could rip holes through her skin.
Andrew watched the screen with barely contained excitement, his mind already writing the script, creating a turn of phrase;
Two warriors, one arena. Iron bars the only thing separating the power wielded for both the dark and the light…
He leant closer to hear the words, his shoulders hunching, a frown appearing as he heard only silence. His fingers moving to find sound, to offer a voice to the fantasies which slid through his mind.
"Whatcha doing Andrew..?"
Willow's lilting tones making him jump fast from his seat, making him look guiltily towards the door to the office which housed Mr Giles and the vampire. "I was just watching. Mr Giles told me to watch." He tried to return the easy smile that the witch was offering him, tried to act surprised as he noticed a frown creasing her features as she looked towards the screen. "Oh! Wow… looks like she woke up. Mr Giles..?!"
His whining voice letting Willow know that this wasn't such a sudden event.
"How long?"
"She… uh…" Andrew looked pleadingly towards the office again. "Mr Giles..?!"
"Andrew, don't make me threaten you with amphibian features. How long has she been awake?"
The face of the irritated watcher broke through any threat, the door opening to see what the distraction was. What was so pressing to break through his deep discussion with Angel; He wanted to speak to Buffy, Giles did not think that now was the right time. The discussion had been very deep.
"What is it Andrew?"
"Faith just woke up and Willow's threatening to turn me into a toad again!"
He looked almost pityingly at the boy. Turning his eyes slowly to face the screen, easing back to Willow. "Perhaps you could put us all out of our misery and carry out the threat?"
Patting Andrew out of his way, settling closer to look at the show before him. "How long has she been awake?"
"She just woke up! This minute…"
"Right. What happened?"
The two slayers still stood trapped in a wordless exchange through the bars of a cage. Everything spoken, that needed to be said, in the looks which could never be held back by anything as meaningless as bars. Buffy wanted to speak, wanted to make something meaningful out of every thought which had plagued the minutes since Faith's return, yet her thoughts had been replaced by feelings, and her feelings dictated that she stay still. That she make no move. Her mouth simply venturing on the same word again.
"Faith?"
The word that invoked awe. Trying to invoke some kind of response in the one that wore the word. Uttering silence again as she watched her make her move. So stilted; as if checking that her legs worked before she moved them, her face losing the snarl for just a second as she winced out something that looked like pain.
Fingers wrapping tight around the cage as Faith reached her target, as she got as close to her prey as this place would allow.
"Where the fuck am I?"
Knuckles straining as much as her voice. Bars which wouldn't move for Buffy, having no chance of shifting under the force of the four year forgotten slayer.
"Fai…"
"I know my fucking name, now where the hell am I?!"
Nothing forgiving in her glance. Nothing welcoming. Nothing at all except for the same rage and the same hate. Four years forgotten, maybe, yet everything remembered now. Still so fresh, as fresh as if just yesterday she had faced Buffy on the roof, as fresh as if her hand was still pushing her own knife back through her skin. Gutting her. Killing her…
"Where am I!?" So much ferociousness ripping harsh from her throat.
She could feel the walls of the cell closing in on her, the bars hard in her hand letting her know she was imprisoned. Cornered. Captured. Knowing nothing else except Buffy. That she was the one responsible. For this. For the hole which still ripped raw through flesh and tendons, which still taunted her with the feeling of weak.
"We need to talk."
The air around her body cooling as the clamminess of sweat tickled a path down her neck. So tense. So tight.
"Faith…" Something stirring. Every single time those lips whispered her name. Lies, deceit, death. "…you need to listen to me."
Not listening. Not moving. The tension in her body coiling tighter around each of her limbs, waste filled muscles screaming from the stabbing pain of being held so rigid. So hard.
Unbreakable. She wouldn't break.
"I'm not going to hurt you…"
Gut churning.
"…this isn't about hurting you."
Buffy dared herself to take a step forward. Faith wasn't moving, wasn't speaking. Her eyes lost to Buffy, a void which showed nothing except the reflection of her cage. All imprisoned. All held back.
Her feet moving in wary steps to bring herself closer, not thinking of what things to say, what words to make it better, just wanting to fill that void. To take some of the torment away, to destroy some of Faith's demons. "Things have changed Faith, everything has changed."
No response. "You…" God. She what? "…that night."
*That* night.
"After you fell, there was… they… you were in the hospital Faith."
Was that too matter of fact?
Not that it mattered, because still the view remained the same. Except closer. Buffy not realising that wary steps had become steps all bold. Never meaning to deliver herself into space this near, yet her body taking actions that her mind would never dare to think through. To give sane thought to. Wanting so badly to touch. Maybe a reaffirmation that the presence was real. That before her again stood Faith. Same girl. Same woman. Same air of tattered indifference lending a detachment to her pose. An emptiness in her eyes.
It made Buffy push on. "They didn't know if you would wake up. They said that you never would… that it was fruitless to want it." Yet she had wanted it so badly. So many different reasons to want so badly. "Four years Faith. It's been four years…"
The damp walls of the basement would have coated her sobs if she could let them break free. If she could finally pour tears over all of the bloody wounds of the past. They were not her wounds to wear though, and she would never rub salt into the injuries that she had inflicted. Holding her breath instead.
No quirky smile to soften the moment, no perky words to reduce anything to mean something less. It had been four years. It was a touch she was aching for.
Her eyes frozen as Faith's gaze slid across the bars of imprisonment to reach her face. Feeling a silent tear dare to break ranks when she realised that fingers were following eyes. That Faith's hand was crossing the bridge between them to make contact, to reignite that feeling. A gasp.
Was that her gasp? Eyelids closing to push the silent tear free, to stand unmoving, yet not unmoved, as fingertips touched a cheek which had waited so many months to feel again. So many years.
"B?"
A whisper, an invitation. Feeling the shake in the hand as it caressed slowly across her skin, across her jaw line, mapping any change. Across a neck which bore the scar hidden beneath skin, to the clothes which sat battle weary, years of fighting kept encased beneath cotton.
The large side, the righteous side, the side which Willow had urged to take caution; that side was screaming at Buffy. Downright, red alert, sound the freaking beepers, screaming. Step back. Guard up. Retreat, retreat!!
The side which sat frozen though, the small side, that was the side dictating the pace to her. To stand and to feel. To offer up without resistance, to make no threat.
The side which felt the smash the hardest as Faith had slammed her forward into bars, against her prison, fingers wrapping tight in a fist around her clothes, breath snarling out words which made up for the strength that was missing from her grasp.
It still hurt.
The roughness of metal grazing across the smoothness of her cheek. Yet she didn't step back. Didn't pull away.
"You think you can fucking fool me again?! You think I *need* to listen to a fucking word you have to say?! You gutted me Blondie, you fucking gutted me…"
"Willow, no! I don't think your intervention is the type needed here. I will…"
"No Giles." Angel spoke up from his place watching the screen, his eyes and ears both perked to catch every word, every insinuation, every deep down cry from Faith's broken soul. "You're not strong enough to deal with this. With Faith. I'll go."
There was no argument as he left them, because too much focus was directed still at the show unfolding before their eyes. At Buffy held with ease against the cage, at Faith's face contorting with such twisted anger as she screamed words into her ears.
"Why isn't the Buffster moving?"
Xander wondered it aloud. Everybody heard. Nobody had an answer.
Faith's throat was raw from the effort of so many words, so much volume, her hands tired from clenching, her legs aching from standing. It was just… again… so much of the same. So much confusion, so much not knowing, so much being a pawn in the fucked up game of life.
So tired of it all.
"Let me out of this fucking cage."
Not much strength left to shout. Not much will left. Four years? Four fucking years? Was that…
No.
Bullshit. She tried to clench harder to squeeze the source, wishing her hands had a grip around that neck so fucking slender, around skin so fucking smooth.
The feeling that caressed her own skin at that moment was a different kind of awakening, a different memory of senses. Fizzing. Buzzing. Trickling through each of her limbs, calling forth a never forgotten power. Her power. Slayer power. Her head drawn away from Buffy, her eyes flying to catch sight of a vampire.
No.
"Faith, let go of her."
His steady slow steps down the stairs making her spring back away from the bars. Away from Buffy. The walls not far enough away from the monster that strode into the room. Pushing back.
"Buffy, are you okay?"
Faith's hands were sliding to her stomach as if she could claw away her wound, make herself strong again. Fear returning, panic insisting that her breaths catch tight in her throat, yet still fall fast from her lips.
"I'm… fine. It's okay. I'm okay."
Buffy spoke with the choke that sat in her own throat. Her own confusion blanketing the situation in a surreal bubble that threatened to burst with her at the centre. She could see the fear in Faith, could see that desperate need which just a minute ago was vowing to reap revenge with death, now straining with futility to sink into the walls. And words.
"You are not feeding me to him." Spoken like a plea.
Four years gone, but not understanding.
She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to do it. Buffy did know though, that this was not the way. She could feel the anger, the fear, the desperation which flowed so fast from the now cowering Faith. And god, could she blame her?
They had locked her in a cage, faced her with the person who did this to her, and now the vampire who was gonna drain her blood dry had just walked into the room.
Welcome back Faith.
Buffy stepped slowly away from the bars, slowly away from Faith. Her eyes switching to catch Angel, to motion with her head that they needed to back off. To retreat. Watching as he left, counting the steps until he had reached the top.
It was the hardest thing in the world to turn away. To show her back. But she knew that it was the only way. That what she was doing was nothing more than terrifying Faith. She had shared the dream, she had seen the scenes, had held the knife which done the damage.
Where the words came from she didn't know. Why she said them she would always know, maybe one day realise; They were the whispers from her heart.
"I'm sorry Faith."
So sorry. For then? For now?
For everything.
Dedicated: To all of the list mums that give me a place to peddle my madness :) Wouldn't you just know that the weekend when I was out of action, all of those lovely beauties would be about creating the action. And not just the usual scrumptious suspects either. I swear I even spotted a glimpse of Oral down at my favourite 'graveyard'. SUPERB! There was Val covered in pork grease (?) Dylan championing freedoms of speech and mutual respect giving. Electra waving her jolly hockey stick in the most unmenacing fashion. G spot myths and miracles... the weekend had it all. It made my return to my mailbox so much more fun! Cheers ladies.
Dedicated no.2: To Poet's weird boobies of course!
The taste of sorry still sat sluggish in Buffy's mouth as she carried herself wearily up the steps from the basement. The words had crept out unknowingly. Whispers which had ached to have the space to be spoken so many times in the last four years. Not that she hadn't ever given them voice before - there had been times. Private times. Times when she had sought solitude away from the world in the void that was always welcoming in Faith's hospital room. But she had never thought that she would have opportunity to say them to an awake Faith. That she would want to say them to such a hateful Faith.
Such a hateful face.
She had felt paralysed when Faith had first taken her into her grasp, the shock of the slam making her eyes squint in pain, the metal bars caressing skin that had just moments before felt the gentleness of a different caress. It was the words that had frozen her though, not the action. Such bitterness, such anger, so many things that no other person had ever had the power to touch her with. Faith had always touched her. Always known where her secret buttons were located, always known how to push to provoke a reaction.
Sorry.
Buffy could bet that wasn't the expected reaction. She was still clinging tight to the defence of whack-job, it could be used to explain so much. Perhaps the way she had let Faith's ineffectual strength hold her such an inanimate prisoner… as if the weakness was begging Buffy to stay still. Maybe the way she had kept quiet instead of shouting Faith down with words of her own, so many accusations to be levelled, so much of her own pain that could be turned, sharpened and directed at Faith. Yet she had stayed still, barely daring to breathe in case she missed a moment of it, her ears open and hearing, giving path to each one of Faith's hate filled words.
It made a change from her own words of condemnation. Almost refreshing to be hearing it from the source, instead of imagining the way that it would go. At least she knew now the way that it would be… no easy forgiveness to wipe away a situation that had, even at best, never been easy. Even when it *was* easy, it had never been easy.
Too many guards. Too many defences.
"Buffy, are you okay?"
Fresh guards in place as she looked up into the concerned eyes of her watcher. "Peachy. You?"
She tried to shrug him off as his hands reached her face, as they caressed along that cheek, the one that had bore the touch of Faith, of metal. "This doesn't look too bad."
"I said it's fine." He sighed as she pushed him away, yet she didn't even hear him, couldn't be worried about soothing concerns which meant nothing to her. She had a whole big list full of more pressing concerns. "Angel?"
Passing her glance quickly across her friends, to settle on… well, wasn't that another little mind boggler? The day before yesterday and she was planning a cookie baking session with this guy, and now her mind was already beginning to question his friendship?
Angel caught her glance. He knew her well enough to know that she was about to start asking for answers. Answers he couldn't give in truth, that he would have to hope he could make believable enough to be good enough. His head motioning towards the office, waiting for her to walk before he followed close behind.
"So you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"
Buffy barely waited for the door to close to launch an all out attack. No time to prepare a method, just knowing that everything about this felt wrong. She knew about Wolfram and Hart, had heard from Angel himself what they stood for, the kind of things that they represented. Evil. And she couldn't believe it.
Couldn't believe that he was staring at her without words, that he wasn't already trying to defend what was going on. "Nothing?! You haven't got anything to say?!"
She watched him cloak himself in that air of aloofness that had always managed to irritate her, the way he was able to pull back, to remain detached.
"Buffy, this has got nothing to do with anything that's going on. I don't have to explain…"
"Yes you do! You can't… god, you can't do this and expect me to just stand back and say nothing. Wolfram and Hart, Angel… what about the things you told me…"
"I know what I told you, I know what they are. All of us do, and all of us have made this decision. Together." He took a step closer to her, making his way into space where he had always been welcomed, not able to hide the slighted look as she shoved him violently away. "Bu…"
"No! When were you gonna tell me Angel? Did it slip your mind before, didn't it rate as important?"
"It isn't your business. I only came to bring the amulet."
Buffy wanted so much to accept the words which came in the voice that had always held reason, but she couldn't, she couldn't find reasoning for this. For any of it. "My business isn't evil law firms, so I guess you have a point." She clipped her tones, offered him some ice to douse any of the fire that had remained constant over the years. Baking season was over. Cookies were not on the menu. "I can't support you in this. As long as you know that you're doing this without my support."
And he stepped further back. Maybe accepting what she was saying, knowing that he couldn't offer stories of forgotten sons to make it all make sense. "I don't remember asking for your support."
So off the cuff. So little weight attached to the final nail in the coffin.
"You bastard."
Taking Buffy's blow without a retort. He had nothing he could say.
It made the office tense with silence for what felt like an age, Buffy's eyes refusing to meet his, to bring herself to even look at him. She knew so well that good and evil existed in a place that mixed intrinsically with grey, but to her there was no grey here, just huge flashing neon signs, illuminating red for danger. Evil all of the way.
Angel watched her, studied her for reaction as she dug her hands into the chair behind the desk. Watching the straining of knuckles, realising just how close she was to breaking. "Do you want to talk about Faith?" Knuckles straining harder. His voice finding the weariness of two hundred plus years as he looked to find any words which could build something of a bridge. "You won't ever understand what's going on here Buffy, and I'll never be able to give you the answers that you need; but don't cut me out of this. You brought Faith here for a reason, let me help. You know that I'm qualified."
Incredulous. Those were the eyes that finally rose to greet him. Incredulous with a side of heart breaking. "You're qualified for what exactly?" Still so far from understanding. "You're head of an evil empire Angel, you think that Faith needs that, you really think that *that* is gonna be any good to her?"
"I wasn't talking about that."
"Well I was! I am!" She broke her spot by the chair to find footfalls on the floor. More spirals around the track, more pointless steps which didn't take her any closer to anything. "I thought you were the beacon. You were the shining light, my goodness, god… how wrong did I turn out to be?"
"I'm still…"
"No. No you're not. If you do this Angel, if you work with them, then that's it for us. Forever. Do you understand that?"
Angel had known that this reaction was always going to be on the cards when Buffy heard about Wolfram and Hart. He had hoped that he would have time to do good, before she found out the bad. Now that she knew, all he could do was give her space, hope that down the line she would find the acceptance to bring him back into her heart. Until then, he still had to force the important issue. The issue that resided in his basement.
"And Faith?"
"That's it?"
He shrugged. It was hard to keep aloof as you lost your girl. Hard to make words.
"This is all so screwed up. We shouldn't have come here…"
"No. You did the right thing. We have the room here for the slayers, for everyone. We can take care of Faith here."
He kept it measured, he kept business tones for a situation that teetered on a knife edge of tension. He could see the hardness enveloping her eyes, could smell the power as it tainted the air around her skin. He knew not to provoke that emotion.
"I don't want to be here."
"Do you have anywhere else to be?"
Buffy felt the tears so close again. Her mind not able to keep count anymore of what was lost, what was found. She felt like she was losing her sanity, she knew that if she couldn't just close her eyes and crash sometime soon, somewhere peaceful, then her sanity would remain only a fond memory in the distance. She pulled it back. She fought for a rod of steel for her shoulders that Giles would be proud of. So used to laying her feelings aside, to take care of business. It was almost a comfort, the familiarity of the action.
"You're right. We don't have anywhere else to go. We'll stay here, at least until we can sort something out."
"And Faith?"
She wanted to scoff. It was supposed to be her that was locked in the obsessive throes of affected and interested concern. She swallowed the Valley-gal reply of Obsessive, much? And instead remembered the rod and the steel. "Faith isn't your responsibility. You don't need to worry about her."
"I can help her."
"You think I trust you?"
"This isn't about you, Buffy. This is my city, and why you are in it we play by my rules. Faith is my guest now, and I'll do all that I can to help her get past the darkness. I don't need your permission, and you've already made it clear that I don't have your support."
He left it open. He baited her to deny it, to find a place where they could be a team again. She found only anger. Quiet seething anger.
How could two days have changed everything so much?
She remembered his last smile, the one before he had walked with a skip in his step from the cemeteries of Sunnydale. And now that, like everything else, was buried in rubble. Nothing but dust.
"Just stay out of my way."
They were the only words that Buffy could seek to find. A warning. A threat. A barely concealed statement of detest. Her body tensing more with each step from the room, culminating in a slam that shook the door on its hinges. A warning to each of her friends to let her pass without comment.
Xander sat in idleness, his finger finding the flick again as he observed Faith on the grainy screen in front of him. He'd offered up his services as lookout, almost drawn to watch the slayer unravelling, as if it was some second rate, yet absolutely addictive, reality TV show. It just shocked him how different she looked now, made him sigh a sound of wonder as he considered how much fear she had provoked in them in the past.
He was a man now, and his man sized boots were not shaking in fear. His head was merely shaking in regret.
"Hey, any change?"
He smiled a look up as Willow and Kennedy came into view. Their hands wrapped in happy togetherness, their eyes finding smiles that reached out for everyone.
"No such luck Wills. She still seems intent to break through the bars. You think she would've figured it out by now."
"Yeah. She never was that bright."
"Sure, but compared to you, we're all morons."
Willow shrugged her shoulder as she let go of her girlfriend's hand to take a step closer. Witnessing for herself the way that Faith was trying to tear ineffectual strips from the bars of her cage. "Is that all she's been doing?"
"Oh no, she did this big session of kicks as well. She rested. For like five seconds." It was his turn to shrug his shoulders now. "I guess she's getting some stamina back."
"She doesn't look all that special. You guys sure she was a big bad?" Kennedy had already taken the time to study the screen which showed them Faith. Trying to reconcile the image with the words that Andrew had spoken, with the tales that Willow had told her to bring her up to speed. "She looks kinda…" mimicking the Xander flicks to the screen, poking at the view. "…pathetic. Pretty weak."
"Right. Don't let her hear you saying that kinda thing. She doesn't like insults, does she Will?"
"Nope. Though Kennedy is right. It is hard to remember what she was, when she's looking like she is. I should do a glamour thing, return her to her snarly days."
"Or we could just keep putting Buffy down there, and let her find her own way back."
Xander's easy words had returned the room to silence. The two old friends worrying silently about Buffy, about how this was going to affect Buffy, about how it was going to affect all of them. And Kennedy, silent only because she was still studying Faith, still watching that unabated anger slammed repeatedly against the bars of the cage.
"Have you thought that maybe letting her out, might calm her down a little?"
"Huh?"
"Well, from a slayer point of view, if anyone locked me in a cage, I'd be pissed as hell. From a person point of view, gotta think the reaction's the same."
"We can't let her out."
"Why not?"
Xander stepped up, patting Willow affectionately on the arm as he passed her by. "Okay, I can see that your sweetie pie here must have missed out some of the relevant details concerning our little psycho slayer. She's dangerous. She kills people. She enjoys it. Therefore, cage."
"How do you know she still kills people, I thought you said it had been four years?"
"Four nice, non-psycho years Ken. I'm not desperate to return to that, and I doubt that Willow is either." He looked for her nod of agreement, smiling when it came. "Anyway, you little newbies shouldn't be worrying about this. This is an old problem, us Scoobs will take care of it, you don't need to worry."
Xander tried to offer the smile to Kennedy as well, trying to bring his best friend's new girlfriend, into the fold. The smile wasn't returned.
"But she's a slayer. She's one of us. Not a Scooby."
"Kennedy, I told you before, you shouldn't get involved."
"Why? Because Buffy thinks so? Because you say so?" The slayer puffed out her chest, breathed in her power. "I think keeping slayers in cages is bullshit. There's enough of us here to keep a firm grip on her…" Finger pointing steadily to the screen, to Faith. "…that's just messed up. Sorry Willow, but that's my take on it."
She didn't wait for her girlfriend's reply, she didn't need to. Kennedy had heard the tales, had seen the proof of a girl gone rogue, and she wasn't so impressed, wasn't so terrified by what she saw. Her back was turned then, her feet finding a path to the garden, going to train with Giles. With the other slayers. All slayers together.
Willow had stayed staring at the screen long after Kennedy had left, relieving Xander from his duty, forcing herself to bear witness to all of the rage and pain kept caged up beneath them. She couldn't agree with the opinion of her girlfriend, there was no way that Faith could be set free in the state that she was in. No way. Even looking at her now, all hunched up in the corner, head depressed down between her legs, Willow could still sense the danger in her pose. Could still remember the destruction that had always paved the way for Faith.
"What are you thinking, huh?"
Words never meant to be heard, just voicing her wonder. Fingers not flicking the screen, but tracing those hunched up shoulders, jumping in her seat as Xander's voice broke through her deep concentration.
"Caressing the prisoner, is that like a butch fantasy thing?"
Her fingers flying, as if scorched, from the screen. "Xander! I thought you were resting. What time is it?"
"Dinner time. The sun's gone down, the slayers have flown the coop, and I've got a big ol' hankering for pizza. Care to join me?"
"The slayers have gone?"
"Giles took them out to get their bearings. Didn't Kennedy tell you?"
She didn't need to answer, she just shook her head. No. Kennedy hadn't told her anything, not since she had shared her opinion on how they were handling Faith.
"Oh. I guess they left pretty quick."
"Don't worry Xander, I know that she's pissed at me." Willow offered him a small smile, a tired smile, patted the space next to her on the desk. "She just doesn't understand. She wasn't there."
"Right."
Xander took the proffered seat, allowing his glance to slowly flick the way of Faith. A gentle sigh easing him to sitting as he realised she wasn't fighting anymore, she wasn't screaming, she wasn't trying to rip herself free from the cage. "She been like that long?"
"A while. Probably storing up energy for the second round."
"Yeah." His words coming stilted from his lips. "Do you think that Kennedy had a point?"
The silence that grabbed hold of Willow's throat spoke a world of no. Her head shaking, her eyes spread open in obvious disbelief.
"Just hear me out Wills, think about it for a minute…"
"No! No thinking. You've seen her Xander, you know what she tried at the hospital. If we don't keep her locked up, then she's gonna go rage crazy on Buffy. I won't allow that."
"I think the Buffster can handle her."
Thoughts like these had been plaguing the soft hearted man all evening. Putting aside the fears of yesteryears, to try and view things from a different angle. From Faith's angle. Letting each of her words echo in his ears, watching as every fist she smashed against the bars made her cry out in pain.
And he finally understood Buffy's words about monsters.
He never had before, had always been the first to trumpet out nonsense when Buffy had questioned what had happened with Faith. It wasn't the same. Faith was a killer. Buffy was just neutralising a threat. He had never had to drive a knife into Faith's gut, had never had to have his palms coated in the reality of her blood.
This time though, this time he had helped to carry her lifeless form in from the car, had smiled a satisfied smile when the doors to the cage had clunked firmly closed. Yep. They had put the monster in her cage. So why did it all feel so wrong?
"I don't believe this… you really think we should let her out? Give her free rein to act on all of her pretty little revenge fantasies?"
"I didn't say that. I just think that this might not be the best way to bring her back to the fold."
"She doesn't want back to the fold! She was never *in* the fold!"
Willow had risen from her seat in defiance of Xander's words. It wasn't that she hadn't taken her own view from Faith's side of the fence, she just thought they were being far too quick to dismiss the things that Faith was capable of doing. "This is crazy… she's dangerous Xander, dangerous."
He backed down, stepped away from the confrontation. His hands offered up in gentle supplication. "Hey, ease off the gas there girly. I'm not making an argument, just stating a case. There must be better options, better ways of handling this."
He appealed to soft Willow, kindergarten Willow, all the compassion that he could muster slipped inside his gentle gaze. He wasn't saying that they should set her free to rape and pillage, he was just suggesting that there were maybe other ways to handle this, without acting like the monster that they all feared.
He didn't even know if she was a monster anymore. He just knew that they had locked her in a cage.
"Okay." Willow could never deny much of anything to Xander Harris when he beseeched her with that puppy dog look. All cute and kindness, the things she had always loved. "Tomorrow we'll have a meeting and discuss the best thing to do. The best way to go. Maybe Angel has some ideas… maybe…"
"Maybe Buff won't want Angel being a part of it."
"Won't want Angel being a part of what?" Timing perfect. Buffy's eyes narrowing on the guilty looks of her two flustered friends. "Guys?"
"We were just saying Buff, maybe the cage isn't the best way to go… if we want Faith, if we want her to, I don't know… get better?" Xander offered a nervous glance Willow's way, carrying on when she gave him a slight nod of the head. "Maybe locking her down there is gonna make her more…"
"Pissed?" The smile that lit Buffy's face was unexpected, causing confusion in the small circle, a pause offered for her to continue. "Look, I'm not totally dumb, I thought you two had figured that out already?"
The pause extending as neither of them spoke an answer.
"I know that the cage isn't gonna work out, I get that, I got that earlier today. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."
"So what do we do?"
"That's where I dumb down again. I haven't got a clue. I'll try and talk to her again tomorrow, try and get her to listen… until then, I need to go slay."
"You're going slaying? Now?"
"Sure. I've slept, I'm rested, I'm raring to go." She slipped the scythe out from behind her back, the glint in her eye only deepening, the smile on her lips lifting further. "I haven't had nearly enough time to play with this yet. Maybe I'll bump into Angel." Now she had gob smacked her friends. Their heads turning, questioning glances being thrown her way. "Joke?"
"Right. Are you sure you should be going out. You seem a little…"
"I'm fine. Good to go. Believe me Xander, I can't stay here. If I stay here I'm gonna end up down there again, and I need to think first. I need to figure out a way to reach her."
They could accept that. They knew Buffy well enough to know that this was sometimes the way she chose to deal. Rehearsing her lines in front of a vamp, working out her frustrations until nothing remained except dust.
"Will you guys keep an eye on her, make sure she gets food?"
"Sure. We're getting pizza, I'll slide it through the bars."
"Play nice Wills. I'll see you in the morning."
With that she tossed the scythe high in the air and caught it on the turn. Showing them her back, an easy tune whistled from her smiling lips as she quickly left the building.
"Okay. That was way too weird. Why with the happy?"
Willow didn't know. Didn't want to know. Knew all too well. Buffy was always affected one way or another by Faith, she always had been. Years ago, the years in between, and now again. "Her arch nemesis is back in the game, maybe she's just excited."
It sounded viable.
"Does she always whistle her way into battle, did I miss that?"
"Hi ho, hi ho. She's a dedicated slayer."
"I'm telling her you called her a dwarf."
The silliness slipped easily over the lifelong friends. There wasn't ever any situation that they couldn't find a smile for. Even when Xander had talked Willow down from destroying the world, he had done it with a smile. She caught his eye now, flashed him something like devilment. "You do that Xander Harris, and I'll tell her that you moan her name in your sleep!"
"I do not!"
"Uh-huh. Never?" She laughed as he coloured, poking him in the ribs to deepen his agony. "Come on, let's get this pizza ordered. I'll go get Dawn, you slide the slices to Faith."
"Me?! You said you were doing it."
"I lied."
Her chuckle reverberated through reception as she left to hunt out the younger Summers sister. Xander left shaking his head, his gaze unwittingly searching out the screen again.
She still looked like she was resting. Maybe he could slide the slices without even waking her. Cos no matter what his conscience said, no matter what his heart said, he had no idea what he would even begin to say to Faith.
Author's Notes: It occurred to me after writing this chapter that there is no toilet in that cage of rage. No bucket either, as far as I know. So, in case y'all start to wondering how Faith is gonna take a piss if she's locked up forever, well... not sure yet. Just know it will be resolved. Or there'll be puddles. We'll see.
Dedicated: After the last heartfelt, chest warming dedimication of gratitude to mothers of the lists, it seems only right to go back to worshipping the ass of Sarah Shahi. Both beautiful things. Both deserving of worship.
Sarah Shahi's ass... *drooooooooooooool*
As his feet crept their way down the stairs, Xander tried to remind himself that he was no longer afraid. That he had let his remaining eye bear witness to all that she was, and the vision had not induced fear. It had induced pity. The only real fear that existed, being the wonder of what would become of her, what would become of Faith.
When his gaze finally fell upon the reality of her broken body hunched up in the corner of the cage, he wondered it again. He had watched her pummelling the bars they had put there, had listened to the tortured rage that flew unfettered from between her lips, and he didn't hold out too much of anything that felt like hope. In all honesty, he also wondered a little, that he had even found himself having hope for her. After everything, did she really deserve it?
A question that made his manly sized bulk move easier as he chuckled softly to himself. After everything, after the last four years, did it even matter anymore? Could he really tell himself that his neck still bore the bruises of injuries that she had inflicted upon him? That he was still wounded by the way that she had used him and discarded him?
After the four years that he had endured, all of it felt like nothing. Not so much. Not enough to damn her to eternal hell, that he was sure of.
"Faith, you awake?" His tone was even and measured. Sure and steady. He wasn't afraid. "I've got food." Moving ever so slightly forward as he heard something, not sure what, uttered from the form in the corner. "Faith?"
"I said, not hungry."
A rasp. A sigh. No raising of head, no eyes of defiance shooting up to wound him. It filled him with confidence, an invitation to keep going. To bring the offering of pizza a little closer to the bars. "I got cheese filled crusts, extra toppings. It's good." Opening up the lid, letting the aromas of fresh baked food infuse the otherwise stale stench of the basement.
He noted her still non response, the lack of lifting head, and he considered that maybe he should just place the box down by the bars and leave. Saunter back up the stairs to find his place in front of the screen, flick at her image idly whilst she just sat fading into the solid brick of the solid wall behind her.
He wanted to do more though. He wanted to help.
"Come on Faith, you need to eat. You need to get your strength back." The hollow laugh that echoed hard against the walls, made him unconsciously curl his toes inside the man sized boots that didn't shake in fear. Made him cast a quick glance back towards the stairs, towards upstairs, towards the safety of the grainy screen. "Okay. I'm just gonna set this down over here…" his gaze never wavering, never leaving the sombre hunch of her shoulders, "…I'll be…"
"What year is it?"
Standing in shock that Faith had spoken so clearly to him, not a rasp or a whisper, but definite, determined. Feeling the slight clench of fingers on the pizza box as her head began to raise.
Not scared. Not scared. All grown up. So not scared.
Eyes so dark. The shadows of the basement doing nothing to hide the emptiness, the desolation. The chill that he felt to the bone as he witnessed the barren wastelands that were the windows to her soul. He clenched a little tighter. He had never thought of her as soulless before. Never.
"I asked what year it is, don't fuck with me Xander."
He wouldn't dream of it. "Two thousand and three. May, two thousand and three. It's been four years."
The laughter peeling out again. A sound which made him edge a step back, the pizza all but forgotten, even as he held it firm within his grasp.
"It's true then?"
"Yeah. It's the truth."
"Four years?"
To Xander it seemed longer. It seemed like forever since he had last spoken to Faith, seemed like a different lifetime, a different person. He offered a nod to the empty eyes, tried to grab at valid comment, something that seemed worthy of saying. "It's been a long time."
And he came up empty. No longer moving backwards, but pinned into place by the intensity that was becoming her stare. His sight