Fic: Omega Rising (10/15) (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...
Over Spike’s head, Buffy’s eyes meet mine. I see my own horror mirrored in her eyes. Where is Angel?
Chapter 10: Collateral Damage
I wake up to someone’s shriek of pain. Blinking in confusion, I realize Buffy’s sprawled across my body. It’s her shriek, muffled by my shirt.
“Let go!” She hisses.
I realize I’m holding her wrist, yanked behind her back so she was forced to fall on top of me. “What?” I ask groggily, releasing her wrist.
“I was trying to wake you up.” Buffy’s voice is indignant. “I touched your shoulder, and you went ballistic.”
Oh. “Uh, sorry about that.”
She glares while rubbing her wrist. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Sorry, B, really. Reflexes, you know.” Can’t exactly blame a girl for having them. Not when you go from life in prison to life surrounded by reanimated corpses trying to eat you. “What’d you need?”
All traces of annoyance leave her voice when she says, “Spike’s up.”
“He going to make it?”
“We think so.”
“That’s good,” I humor her, still not sure why I’ve gotta be informed about this.
“He told me where they got swarmed. I’m going to look for Angel. Are you in?”
Suddenly, I’m wide awake. “I’ll be ready in five.”
XXXXX
The sun’s been up for a few hours. B and I creep through the industrial section of town. There aren’t as many of the dead down here. It’s mostly guys who were working the shipyard that morning, stumbling around in their raggedy coveralls and falling off the docks. “Spike said they were near the factory,” Buffy mutters, glancing around at the decrepit buildings.
“How do we know which one?” I carefully train my crossbow on an unfortunate dead man who’s taken notice of us and let loose a bolt. “All these look the same.”
“He meant the one Angelus used.”
I can tell by her tone she doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t ask.
“It’s this way,” Buffy leads the way to the railroad tracks and starts jogging down them, sword at the ready.
I remember being told to stay off the tracks when I was a little kid. Trains move faster than you think, and the way adults make it sound, they’re gonna hit you outta nowhere. But chances are, no train’s ever gonna come down these tracks again. The time of planes, trains, and automobiles is over. We’re back to hiding from the animals, just trying to stay alive.
“Deep thoughts?” Buffy asks in a perfectly steady voice, in spite of our brisk pace.
I nod at the tracks. “Just thinking we got no use for these anymore.”
She frowns. “We’ll use them again someday.”
I’m not so sure. The world’s pretty well gone to hell. “You think so?”
“They’re just bodies. They can’t live forever.”
“I guess not.”
“They’ll die off, and the world’ll still be here waiting,” Buffy says confidently.
I can almost believe it when B talks like this. Still, I’m not totally convinced. “But who’s it waiting for? Wipe out all the humans… Demons inherit the earth.”
“Not as long as I’m breathing,” she mutters fiercely. It brings a grin to my face. No matter how hopeless the odds, Buffy always believes she can win. She’ll do it, or she’ll die fighting, but giving up is not an option.
“Ditto.”
Her lips curve into a smile as she casts a sidelong look at me. “See? Our odds are looking better already.” Veering off the tracks, she points to a hulking beast of a building. “That’s it.”
The wide street in front of us is clear, and Buffy leads the way silently down a side alley. Half the alley lays in shade, and a few collapsed bodies paint a gruesome picture. Their flesh is nearly stripped away, and blood is pooled and streaked everywhere. “Vamps,” I say out loud. “I can sense ‘em.”
Buffy squats next to the closest body for a better look.
“Are they alive?” I ask. If they were dead, they would be ash, right?
Buffy looks a little horrified as she makes that connection, too.
“Only one way to find out,” Buffy says, looking unhappily at her sword. Grimacing, she pokes very gently into the mutilated flesh before her.
It moans.
Jesus. I actually feel bad for these bloodsuckers. I got no love for vamps but man, this is vicious.
“Should we put ‘em out of their misery?” I suggest.
Buffy looks up. “The sun’s about to do that for us. Let’s keep moving. If Angel’s here, I don’t want him sunbathing.”
Between the two of us, we check every body in the alley. By the time we’re through, the sun’s high enough in the sky to beat down between these buildings. Nine little pyres begin, and a few of the vamps get conscious enough to scream as they burn. I try the factory doors, hoping Angel made it inside, but they’re padlocked over, and most of the windows look intact.
“Are you sure Spike was like, lucid enough to remember where they were?” I’m starting to get frustrated.
“Pretty sure,” Buffy confirms. “Let’s try around back.”
The back is almost a bust, but we come across one of the dead, trying to claw his way inside a dumpster. Seeing us, he gives up on the dumpster and stumbles our way. An excited moan bursts from his mouth. His skin is the color of rotting grapes, and he doesn’t smell half as nice. I dispatch him quickly, my ax landing right between his milky red eyes.
“I wonder why he’s so interested in this dumpster,” Buffy looks at it thoughtfully for a moment before stepping closer to crack the lid. “Oh my God!” She cries.
“What?” I yank the lid back further so I can look too. A small flame immediately erupts on the hand inside, and Buffy shoves the lid down again.
“We found him,” I grin. Sure, he’s in a dumpster and looking a little worse for the wear. But he’s not dust in the wind, so Go Team! Right?
Buffy grins back, throwing her arms around me spontaneously. I stiffen immediately, and she quickly releases her grip. “How are we going to get him back to camp?”
“I think I have an idea…”
XXXXX
“Can’t you go any faster?” Buffy complains. “I’m running out of bolts!”
“Hey,” I huff back. “Anytime you wanna switch places, princess, that’s fine by me.”
Buffy shuts up then and goes back to sniping zombies from her position atop the dumpster. I’m jogging along behind it, pushing it like our lives depend on it, which of course, they do. Between Buffy, Angel, and whatever trash was already in there, it feels as heavy as a damned house. It’s like Spring Training for slayers. Another couple blocks and I’m gonna yak.
“We’re almost there,” Buffy calls, encouragingly. A bolt whizzes past my ear and thuds into the zombie who was about to tackle me from the left.
I glare up at her. “Ya mind not cutting it so close?”
She puts her hands on her hips indignantly. “I’m trying to defend us from all sides! Be grateful I caught him at all!”
“Yeah? Why don’t you come down here, and I’ll defend us from all sides for a while?”
Buffy snags two more in rapid succession and rolls her eyes. “Come on, Faith, it’s only another block.”
I’m running on practically empty right now, but I grit my teeth and keep running. I guess my willpower’s better than I expected because soon the dumpster even feels lighter. Actually… wait a sec. My fingertips leave the metal of the dumpster. We’re at the mouth of the alley behind Maple Court, and I totally forgot it’s on an incline leading down to the sports shop. As the dumpster picks up speed, I fall a little behind.
“See, I knew you could do it,” Buffy crows.
“Uh, B, that’s not me.” I’m running behind the out of control dumpster.
“What?” Buffy looks down at me in alarm, dropping to her knees before she’s thrown off. “Faith!”
“Jump off!” I shout. This thing ain’t stopping until it plows into something, and she doesn’t wanna be on top when that happens.
Cursing under her breath, Buffy yanks her pack off and throws it off the dumpster. “I’m gonna kill you!” She yells, trying to get her footing on top so she can jump.
What, like I designed downtown? “Shut up and get off there!”
Buffy jumps gracelessly, directly at me. I’m not expecting it, and I don’t have time to stop my forward momentum. I mean come on, she’s a slayer, she doesn’t know how to tuck and roll? She plows into me, knocking me flat on my back. My pack slides up and keeps my head from slamming into the cement. A few seconds later, the dumpster rams into the building with a resounding clang that’s bound to draw every zombie in hearing distance.
Spitting my words around Buffy’s hair, I mutter, “What the hell, B?”
“I thought you would catch me!”
The door to the sports store is yanked open, and Giles peers out in concern. His eyes sweep across the dumpster and widen when they land on the two of us. I realize my hands have cradled Buffy’s butt as we were falling backward and yank them off.
Buffy struggles to get up, accidentally kneeing me in the crotch.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” she winces apologetically, pulling her body upward and away from sensitive areas. Which leaves her left boob to poke me in the eye as she slides off.
“What in God’s name is going on?” Giles demands. Behind him, Tara gapes at us.
“Buffy’s molesting me!” I report back.
Her indignant slap barely registers over all my other aches and pains. “We found Angel,” Buffy calls, climbing to her feet and dusting off. “He’s in the dumpster.”
Giles and Tara look at the dumpster and back at us. “I’ll fetch some blankets then,” Giles volunteers after a moment.
Tara rushes out, picking up Buffy’s discarded pack. “Are you guys okay?”
“Cracked rib,” I wheeze, “punctured lung. But Buffy’s good, right, B?”
“Shut up,” Buffy offers me a hand and yanks me to my feet. “You’re fine.”
“Next time, I’m riding on the dumpster.”
“I don’t even weigh that much!”
I look her up and down, knowing her body’s pretty perfect, but unable to resist the urge to tease her. After all, she did just power drive me into the pavement. “I’m just saying, just because we’re in a camping store doesn’t mean you gotta be in the s’mores every night.”
Stifling a grin, Tara redirects our attention before Buffy can knock me out. “Is Angel okay?”
“I’m not sure,” Buffy says, as Giles reappears with the blankets, followed by Xander and Gunn. “I couldn’t exactly open it up and check.”
We work out the best way to get Angel out while keeping him shaded. Xander and Tara hold the lids open at an angle while Giles waits with a blanket spread open. I leap inside the dumpster, trying not to step on Angel.
He’s a little better off than the other vamps we found, but not quite as good as Spike. I peer around him, trying to find the least painful way to hoist him up and out. Finally, I take him under his arms and pull him upward. Angel moans in pain. Well, he’s definitely not going to enjoy this next part.
I drag him to the lip of the dumpster. Buffy and Gunn wait on the ground, ready to catch him in their arms. “Sorry, big guy,” I whisper, hoisting his legs up so he tips out precariously.
Gunn’s hands encase his shoulders, helping transition Angel’s body to Buffy’s shorter grip.
“Got him,” Buffy confirms over Angel’s whimpering.
Giles promptly throws the blanket over the vampire before he can burst into flames. I hop back to the ground, helping the other two lift Angel.
A scream erupts from behind the dumpster, and suddenly the dead seem to be everywhere.
“Get the door!” I shout, and Gunn runs ahead of us, yanking it open. From the corner of my eye, I see one of the zombies grabbing Giles.
Buffy and I sprint forward, laying Angel’s unconscious form on the floor in the storeroom. The cops go charging out the door, and we’re close behind.
Outside, it’s chaos. Tara’s fending off two of them by conjuring shimmering balls of energy. She chucks them at the dead, and they appear to be momentarily stunned. But they shake it off and keep stumbling closer. I run for her, plucking the sword from Buffy’s discarded pack on my way, and put my body between them and her. I immediately decapitate one.
I hear anguished screaming from my right. Andrado is down; two of the dead are gnawing on him.
I wiggle one of my arms enticingly at the dead woman closest to us. She goes for it, stained teeth at the ready. I bring my sword down through her neck, and she falls harmlessly to the ground. Pulling Tara behind me, I inch back to the door. I have to get her inside. I see the terrified old man, Mr. Noble, peering out the door. “Open it!” I shout, and he does so immediately. Shoving Tara through, I slam it closed again.
Charging back into the fray, I scan for causalities. Buffy’s twirling at full slayer speed, stabbing and kicking anything in reach. Barrigan is making solid headshots with his pistol. Gunn’s about to be chow, and I grab his zombie from behind, snapping its neck before it can sink its teeth into anything.
Xander stumbles into me, clutching his bleeding shoulder. His face is pale and ashy.
“Shit,” I mutter, taking a step back.
“I’m okay,” he cries. But I see the bruised skin through his ripped shirt. He’s been bitten.
A devastated scream almost pierces my eardrums. I turn to see Buffy, frozen in place and screaming her throat out. But she’s not looking at Xander. Her eyes are locked on Giles. The watcher’s face is contorted in pain, and one of the dead is locked on his neck.
Buffy’s wailing, not even noticing that she’s attracting more of the dead in her direction. I can’t get there fast enough. One of them sinks its teeth into her arm. “Buffy!” I scream, as she looks down at her arm in shock. I shove past Xander, past Gunn, and run toward her. Her teary eyes meet mine, and then she stoops, picking up Andrado’s discarded gun.
“No!” I shout, but Buffy’s already racing up the alley.
I follow her, running as fast as I can. My aching muscles scream in protest, but I ignore them, focusing on nothing but the crying woman in front of me.
“Stop!” I scream. “B, God damn it! Stop!”
I’m never going to catch her this way. Forget screaming after her, I force my legs to pump as fast as they can, chasing her through the ruined streets. We’re moving at full slayer speed, and the zombies milling about don’t have time to do much more than let out startled moans. I’d forgotten how fast she is. She slows in front of the Art Gallery, and I finally cover the ground between us. Just as Buffy raises the gun toward her temple, I tackle her hard from behind. By the time we hit the ground, she’s already struggling to escape the vice grip I’ve got on her.
“Stop!” She sobs, “Let me go! I have to do this!”
“You’re not infected!” I shout, trying to keep a hold on her bucking body even as she slams an elbow into my sore rib.
“What?” She demands, as my words sink in.
“I’ll show you,” I pant. “I’ll prove it. Please.”
Buffy nods, and I roll off her, yanking my pant leg up as fast as I can. She stares at the healed bite. My skin’s still green and purple, but the bite’s clearly closed. Buffy reaches shaking fingers to my leg, running them over the mark. “How long ago?”
“Two weeks,” I tell her.
“I’m not infected,” Buffy exhales incredulously.
“No.”
She starts crying again, loud, gulping sobs.
“Okay, B,” I hesitantly place my arms around her. “I got you. You’re okay.” She shudders against me, her body wracked with grief, and maybe some relief for herself.
“Giles,” she manages to sputter.
“I know,” I keep my voice as soothing as possible. “I know.” My hands run all over her, so fucking relieved I caught her in time. She doesn’t protest, just sobs her heart out. The wound in her arm bleeds freely.
A few of the dead meander our way, letting out a moan as they come.
“We gotta move,” I say, pulling the shattered Buffy to her feet. She wipes her face. When she nods, I see the determination of the slayer in her eyes.
XXXXX
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