Fic: Omega Rising (4/15) (Buffy/Faith)
A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
Previously in Omega...
I’m standing on the roof, looking down at the mostly empty streets. Gulping down fresh air, I shake out my limbs. I just gotta burn off a little steam. Then I’ll go back in and we’ll make a plan. I can do this.
Chapter 4: The Protectors
“That one?” I wrinkle my nose when I see where Wesley’s pointing. Out of every abandoned car on this street, he’s gotta pick the dinkiest one available.
He squints impatiently at me. “Do you see many cars that have a clear path?”
“Or ones that don’t have dead guys in them?” Kim adds.
In the Ford F-250 next to me, two zombies press their noses eagerly against the passenger window. They haven’t figured out how to get out yet, but instead gnaw fruitlessly against the glass. Streaks of thick brown blood are obscuring the view.
“Them?” My wave is dismissive. “It’s just two of them, I can totally handle it. And look,” I add cajolingly, “I’ll even make Kim sit bitch.”
Kim crosses her arms as Wesley gives me a disbelieving look. “As much as I’d love to ride the rest of the way with the smell of rotting corpse, we’re going to take the other.”
“That one,” I say again, defeated now. Wesley nods curtly and leads the way to the oldest, ugliest Geo Metro in existence.
We’ve been picking our way slowly but surely through LA for the last three days, and Wes hasn’t thawed one inch. He seems to like Kim okay. It’s just me he can’t stand. It’s been really slow going, mostly because we aren’t able to drive more than a few miles without hitting an impasse and going again on foot. Miraculously, we’re all still alive and kicking. The city is pretty heavily overrun. We haven’t come across any survivors. Some people must still be alive here, but they aren’t out in the streets.
Luckily, we’re traveling with an accomplished hot-wirer, so we don’t have any issues getting transportation. Kim does her thing, and the jalopy Wes picked out sputters to life. She slips into the backseat, and Wesley meets my eyes over the roof. “Shall we?”
I slide into the passenger seat with a sigh. It turns out that he’s a good wheel man. We’ve run down a dozen zombies, although we avoid it if we can because bodies can fuck up the car. And if you don’t kill ‘em, they might try to hold on.
We’re chugging down an almost clear stretch of highway, the Geo rattling like it’s got tin cans in the wheel wells, when he says, “I expect we’ll make it to the Hyperion tonight.”
I look over, surprised. “No shit?”
“What’s the Hyperion?” Kim’s interested face pokes between our seats.
“The hotel Angel lives in.” I pull out the map. Yeah, if the road stays mostly clear, we should be getting there right around nightfall. As I place the map back in the console, Wes goes for the gear shifter. Our hands brush, and he jerks his away like he touched fire. “Sorry,” I mutter, pulling mine back.
He shakes his head in acknowledgement and grabs the shifter. In the backseat, Kim rummages in her pack, pretending not to notice the tension between us. After a few moments of silence, Wesley clears his throat. “Are you planning to stick around? When we get to the Hyperion, I mean.”
If this is his subtle way of letting me know my kind isn’t welcome, somebody ought to tell him he’s not being that subtle. I feel a muscle in my jaw tick as I clench my teeth. “Ain’t exactly got any place to go.” I gesture toward the median we’re coasting along next to, and the recently deceased mother/daughter duo shambling ungracefully over it.
Nodding, Wesley keeps his eyes fixed carefully on the road. Ahead of us, a zombie manages to get his car door open and plops face first on to the road. Without so much as swerving, Wes guides the Geo’s tire over the man’s head. Impressed, I watch the limp body with the severely damaged head disappear in the side view mirror. “That’s good then.” Wesley’s voice draws my attention. His eyes flick to me for just a moment. “I suspect we’ll need a slayer on our side.”
Too surprised to say anything, I just nod back and go back to zombie watching. It’s not exactly a peace declaration, but it’s more than I was expecting to get from Wes. Probably more than I deserve.
“What’s for lunch today?” Wesley asks a moment later.
There’s a flurry of movement from the backseat, and then Kim’s cheerful voice answers, “Beefaroni or fruit cocktail. Our options are nearly limitless.”
Where I come from, Beefaroni is good eatin’, and I call dibs on that immediately. Shrugging, Kim hands it to me, along with our pilfered can opener. A whole can later and my stomach’s still rumbling. We’re off the highway, coasting down a relatively deserted surface street.
“Hey,” Kim says, around a mouthful of pear slices, “I found a CD!”
“Pass it!” I reach my hand behind the seat. It’s unlabeled, but I pop it in the CD player anyway. Kim leans forward, resting her forearm on my seat. There’s a few seconds of silence, and then a gentle, whispering chorus fills the tinny speakers, “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”
My fingers start tapping the melancholy tune against my thigh. Kim’s surprisingly clear voice sings softly, “Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low…”
Wes joins in as Freddy Mercury starts really belting it out, “MAMA, oooooooh, I don't want to die…”
Now the two of them are singing full force, and the combined pitch would probably make any member of Queen denounce the song altogether. It’s kind of infectious though. As the rock opera portion starts, I find myself joining in.
“I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouche! Scaramouche! Will you do the Fandango?”
Kim grins approvingly at me as we warble our way through the words. Lifting a hand from the wheel, Wesley starts air-conducting. Shrieking with laughter, my fellow convict adds air guitar to the mix. I pop the car lighter out and hold it up in approval.
“Oooooooh bay-bay, can’t do this to me bay-bay,” we sing at the top of our lungs. I’m laughing so hard that I almost don’t see the girl. From the edge of my peripheral vision, I catch her reflection in the side view mirror. She darts from a side street, running behind the car, arms frantically pumping.
“Wes!” My voice booms over their singing, and both he and Kim immediately look at me. “Stop! There’s someone back there!”
He jerks the car to a halt, and I shove my door open. The girl is screaming as she runs, “Please! Wait, please!”
I jog toward her, making shushing motions with my arms.
“Don’t leave me!” Her voice is shrill, her eyes wide. She nearly plows into my arms, and only my slayer strength keeps us from falling.
“You gotta be quiet,” I say as gently as possible, which is not very gentle at the moment, since her screaming has attracted quite a few of the dead.
Footsteps pound behind us, and then a winded Wesley peers at the small form huddled against my chest. “We need to get back to the car.”
I disentangle the girl’s arms from my torso, glancing toward the car. Kim leans halfway out the driver’s door, her dark complexion unusually pale. “Come on,” I say to our newest recruit. There’ll be time for names and whatever later. Right now, the moans of a dozen zombies are quickly drawing more toward us.
The girl starts to nod and then glances at Wesley for the first time. “No!” She shrieks, ripping her wrist from my grasp. “No, no, no, NO!” Backing away, she’s heading right into the zombies.
“Shut up,” I hiss, as Wesley asks, “What’s wrong?”
Her terrified eyes turn back to me. “He’s infected! He’s one of them!” She’s still backing up, and I follow, trying to keep my movements nonthreatening.
Wesley raises a hand to the bandage on his neck and shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not infected.”
“LIAR!” She screams, turning. This crazy bitch is going to fall straight into the arms of the dead if I don’t stop her. Leaping forward, I yank her back against me.
“He’s not infected and we don’t have time for this!” I drag her back toward the car, ignoring her screams.
But it’s too late. Decaying bodies shamble across the road, cutting us off from the car. I let go of the still struggling girl. I’m not getting eaten because she’s too stupid to realize we’re trying to help her. “Keep moving!” Wesley shouts, trying to circle around the advancing horde. The group behind us presses in closer, and now the stupid girl who’s gonna get us killed is running with us.
We almost make it. We clear the zombies on the left, and I see Kim behind the wheel, her scared eyes trained on me. But another five tumble from a garage on the left, blocking our path. Wesley spins, shoving the girl behind him, and I move into the forward position, ready to shove through the group and hope for the best.
The first bloated fingers touch my sleeve, and I yank it away. Their moaning reaches a new pitch. “I’ll make a hole,” I shout to Wesley, “you just stay behind me.”
Before I can plow forward, someone’s huge chest blocks my line of vision. The clothing’s black under the Kevlar vest. The dude’s face is covered by a motorcycle helmet. Thick guards are strapped to every possible surface of his body. Four others like him surround us, elbowing zombies away. Behind our new friends, another two black clad figures are severely decimating the zombie population. A hatchet flies through the chaos, embedding itself firmly in the forehead of one unfortunate dead guy. Its owner follows, yanking it free and swinging it into the kneecap of a pursuing zombie in one smooth movement. The last team member wields a crowbar, smashing it into the face of any zombie who stumbles into her path. “Move out!” She shouts gleefully, and helmet-face starts herding us away from the action.
The girl from the road, oblivious to all the trouble she’s caused, is thanking our saviors profusely, at full volume. Helmet-face all but drags her along.
“Faith!” Kim joins the group sprint, and I see the dead have overtaken our little car.
I shoot her a look, urging her not to talk too much. She doesn’t realize it yet, but we’re in even more danger now than we were before.
XXXXX
“Whew!” Crowbar shakes her hair out as we enter a windowless warehouse. “Everybody okay?”
Finally quiet, the girl from the street gives a dazed nod.
Wesley and I exchange glances. He drifts casually closer to Kim as I step out, keeping them between me and the wall. “Must be rough fighting the zombies for your dinner these days, huh?” My voice is filled with mock concern, a smile on my lips.
The people in black freeze for a moment. Crowbar laughs nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“The little snack bar you’ve set up here.”
Glaring, the one with the hatchet steps forward. “Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth before I throw you back out there with them?”
I shrug. Every muscle in my body is alive and tingling, feeling that familiar buzz in my brain.
“Carl,” Helmet face intercedes, now sans helmet, “why don’t you and Kate go check on our other guests?”
Hatchet curls his lip at me, and then turns on his heel, leaving us alone with the leader. Once the large room is empty, he dips his head almost cordially. “Slayer.”
“Vampire.” I smirk back.
He smiles. “There’s no reason to make a scene here.”
My eyebrow quirks. “Let me explain to you how this works. I’m the vampire slayer. I slay… vampires!”
“This vampire saved your ass out there.”
“Yeah,” I snort, “so you could eat it back here.”
“I prefer the neck.” His grin fades when no one else laughs at his joke. “Look,” The vampire holds his palms up. “We’re not eating anyone here.”
That’s a new one. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You don’t have to.” He gestures to the door the other vamps disappeared through. “See for yourself.”
I cast a glance at Wesley. His face gives nothing away. “You first,” I tell our host.
He leads us through the door and onto a small landing that overlooks the bottom floor of the warehouse. It’s divided into sections. One is clearly a kitchen, containing industrial shelves filled with canned goods. Another area has a few dozen cots and mattresses. A third makeshift room has couches and chairs. And everywhere, there are living people. A few kids are even playing board games in the living area. Almost everyone has a fresh bandage on one forearm or the other.
“This is what you call not eating anyone?” Wesley’s voice is tight with anger.
“Hey,” Helmet face pulls an “aw, shucks” face, “we’ve gotta sustain ourselves somehow.”
“By leading survivors here. Like cattle for the slaughter.”
The vamp drops his genial attitude. “Take a look around. The world’s ended, man.” He yanks the sleeve of his shirt up, exposing a forearm marred with human bites. “Those bastards will bite anything that moves, even if they don’t like the taste.” Shoving the sleeve back down, he continues, “The humans need us and we need the humans. It’s mutually beneficial.”
We glare at one another for a few minutes until Wesley takes a step closer to me, Kim close to his side. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” I ask, incredulously. “And leave these people here at the Old Transylvanian Buffet?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” he whispers, although the vampire can hear every word.
Kim’s fingers wrap around my bicep and she pulls me back. “Let’s just get out of here,” she pleads.
The vampire holds my eyes, his smirk firmly in place. “You’re welcome to stay. But you know the price of admission.”
I let Kim pull me toward the door after Wesley. “I’ll be back for you,” I say, every ounce of angry slayer in me channeled into those words.
His smirk widens to a grin. “I’m sure you will.”
The door closes and locks behind us. Alone in the empty upper floor of the warehouse, we look at each other. No supplies. No car. And sunset’s on the way. So much for that short trip to the Hyperion.
XXXXX
This will be the last “slow” chapter for quite a while. I know you guys are anxiously awaiting Buffy, and she’s coming, very soon. Please hang in there just a bit longer.
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! :)