Fic: Omega Rising (12/16) (Buffy/Faith)
A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
I ended up splitting this chapter into 2, so now we have 16 chapters. :) Previously in Omega...
“No, that isn’t why we came.” Wesley’s worried gaze meets mine. “Cordelia had a vision.”
Chapter 12: Blurry Visions
Buffy gives Cordelia her full attention when she starts describing her vision. I’m half listening, trying to heat some lunch for all of us on this crappy portable burner. Everyone’s crowded into the bus now, with Gunn and Spike doing watch duty at opposite ends.
I hear something about Angel’s heart beating and smile. Maybe after all this shit we’ve gone through, something good’s really going to happen.
Cordelia continues, “And Buffy was there. You guys made with the horizontal mambo, which ew, I could have done without seeing.”
The can of beans I’m holding cracks within my fist, popping loudly. Everyone looks over at me. “Are you okay?” Buffy asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I wipe my hands off on a towel and try to muster up a smile.
She looks at me curiously before turning back to the group and addressing Angel. “Do you have any idea what it means? I mean… she heard your heart beat. That couldn’t happen, could it?”
Before Angel can respond, Wesley interjects, “It could be the Shanshu prophecy!”
“It’s not,” Angel offers, as Buffy asks what the prophecy is.
Wesley replies, “There’s a prophecy that one day, when his mission is complete, Angel will become human.”
Buffy looks to Angel. “And you never told me?”
“It isn’t that,” he repeats.
“How do you know?”
Angel looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and die, but he answers her anyway. “Because what Cordy saw, that already happened.”
Everyone looks confused now. I know I was a bit out of the loop in prison, but I’m pretty sure I woulda heard if Angel was alive again.
Fixing his gaze on Buffy, Angel continues, “It was a couple months ago. When you came to LA after Thanksgiving.”
“But… that didn’t happen.”
“It did,” Angel tells her. “You just don’t remember because I asked the Powers That Be to rewind the day.”
“So you wouldn’t become human,” Wesley says.
Angel nods, still waiting for Buffy to respond.
Her body is rigid, and I can practically see the anger growing in her. Finally she just asks, “Why?”
Angel’s full of explanations, about how he knew she’d die sooner if she was protecting him all the time, and how the world needed him as a vampire, but I can tell it’s going in one ear and out the other for Buffy. While he’s still speaking, she stands up and walks down the center of the bus toward me. I crank the door open, and she gives me a grateful nod before disappearing down the stairs.
An awkward silence fills the bus before Gunn asks, “So why are they showing this to us now?”
Angel sighs, “I became human again when the demon’s blood mixed with mine. The Mohra demon.”
Wesley puts it together first. “And if their blood can make a vampire with a soul human again…”
“It can probably heal the infected,” Angel finishes.
XXXXX
Kim settles in next to me with her lunch in hand. “So, that’s your straight girl, huh?”
My head whips around quickly, but Angel’s busy discussing Cordelia’s vision with the gang. Spike peers out the back window for signs of trouble. B is still outside. “Super hearing,” I tell Kim, tilting my head toward the back of the bus. “Keep it down, will you?”
“Sorry,” she says, her dark eyes widening.
I nod, continuing to eat.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is that her?” Kim asks, exasperated.
I see that she’s not going to drop it, so I sigh and give her a nod of affirmation.
“Pretty,” she offers quietly.
“Yeah.”
From the window next to me, I can see B standing 20 yards off, staring into the trees next to the road.
“You should bring her something,” Kim suggests, offering me her plate of food. It seems like an okay idea, so I take the plate and slide out of the seat after Kim.
“Thanks,” I say, on my way down the steps. Outside, the air is hot and dry. I pick my way across the freeway, arriving on Buffy’s left. “Thought you might be hungry,” I say, wiggling the plate in my hand.
She accepts the plate and thanks me quietly. I stay there, looking with her into the trees. After a moment, I offer, “Want me to stake him?”
That brings a little smile to her face, and Buffy sighs. “No, thanks. We kind of need him.”
“Damned apocalypse,” I scuff my boot angrily in the dirt.
Snorting softly, Buffy nods in agreement. Turning to face the bus, she leans her butt on the guardrail and starts to pick at the food I brought.
I do likewise, trying to think of the right thing to say. I’m not going to say I’m sorry Angel did what he did. I love Angel, but my time in the clink hasn’t reformed me enough to want him to get the girl. Not this girl anyway. Finally I settle for, “I think he thought it was the right thing to do, for what it’s worth.”
Buffy frowns, and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing.
Trying to fix it, I quickly continue. “I know he wouldn’t give you up unless he thought he had to.”
Buffy doesn’t respond for a moment, then she asks in a small voice, “How do you know?”
“Nobody would,” I tell her, wondering if that sounds as incredibly transparent to her as it does to me.
If the sharp glance she gives me is any indication, it does.
I try to think of something to say that makes it sound less like I was talking about me not giving her up, but before I can, Buffy recovers and knocks her knee into mine gently. “Thanks, Faith.”
“Sure,” I mutter. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and I sure hope I look cooler than I feel.
Mercifully, Buffy looks away, her eyes moving over the abandoned cars. “It’s not just Angel,” she murmurs after a while. From the sudden shine in her eyes, I know her thoughts are back in Sunnydale. Buffy’s a strong woman, she’s had to be, but nobody could go through what she has during the last few weeks and come out unaffected.
I struggle to think of something comforting to say. “G was a real good guy,” I start, intending to say something more intelligent.
But B shakes her head quickly. “I, umm, I can’t talk about him yet.”
I nod in understanding. “Sure.”
Buffy balances the food on her lap. The two of us watch the gleam of the afternoon sun on the road for a while, not talking.
When Buffy speaks, her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. “I know it’s my fault.”
“B, no,” I protest immediately, turning to look at her. She’s got her eyes on the food in her lap, hard to tell if they’re tearing up, but from her voice I’d bet they are.
“Giles was right,” she replies. “We should have left when he wanted to.”
“You couldn’t know what was going to happen,” I tell her.
Buffy shakes her head. “I knew what it was like in Sunnydale. I knew we weren’t all going to make it out… that I was putting them in danger. I just couldn’t go, not without…” she trails off, and the food slides from her lap as she brings her hands to her face.
“Nobody blames you for that,” I reassure her. I don’t actually know if that’s true, but if anybody does blame her, I’ll give ‘em a talking to. She had a family there. What good is being Chosen if you can’t save the people you love? I get why she had to try.
Buffy’s crying almost silently. Only the shaking of her shoulders gives it away.
I take her hands gently, and tug them away from her face. Buffy looks up at me through wet eyes. “I voted, too,” I tell her. “I was the tie breaker. If it’s anyone’s fault we stayed, it’s mine.” I’m the defective slayer, always have been. I can handle two more lives on my conscience. Buffy’s always tried to do what’s good. It’s not right for her to bear this by herself. I’m not gonna let her do it.
Buffy looks at me a long time. Then she looks at her hands, still cradled in mine. “It’s not,” she replies. “But thanks.”
I want to say something else, something to make her feel better. I’m drawing a blank.
Buffy squeezes my hands before she lets go. “We’d better get back,” she says, standing up. I follow her across the abandoned highway.
XXXXX
Angel basically refuses to rest at the hotel when we get there. Even though he’s still healing from what happened in Sunnydale, he insists we have to go hunt the Mohra right away. I mean, I get it; we’re looking at a potential cure. We all want that, after the people we’ve lost. But it’s not smart to go out when he’s in such bad shape, and I don’t waste any time telling him that.
“You’re barely on your feet,” I point out. “Let’s get some rest and wait until tomorrow.”
Buffy backs me up. “Faith’s right. It can wait one more day.”
“I’m fine,” Angel insists, “and I’m going now. So are you in or not?” He sways on his feet as he asks.
“Damn it, Angel,” Buffy cries, “you’re being reckless!”
“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” he shouts back.
Flinching, Buffy steps closer to him. “Neither do I,” she says before suddenly cocking back her fist and hitting him hard in the jaw.
Angel slumps to the ground, out cold.
“What?” Buffy asks innocently, seeing the rest of us looking at her in shock. “He wasn’t going to listen!”
Cordelia shakes her head in annoyance, dropping to her knees beside Angel.
“Nice hit,” I compliment, and Buffy gives me a weary smile.
“Well,” Wesley asks dryly, “who’s up for dinner?”
XXXXX
Dinner is cold canned goods and some soaked beans. The gas lines have long since stopped working, along with everything else. We could heat our food over a fire, or go back to the bus and use the portable burner, but with the amount of dead in the city, I’d rather not. Anything that draws attention to us is not a good idea. So we spoon beans and canned vegetables out onto paper plates. Luckily the sporting goods store was well stocked with oil lamps, so we don’t have to rely solely on candles anymore. I got a look in the pantry as we were getting dinner together; the canned goods are dwindling. We’ve got plenty of dried beans and cornmeal, and I guess technically people can live on any kind of food. But long-term, if we’re gonna stay healthy and outlast these zombies, we need more. We need to tackle this issue with the Mohra demons, but soon we’re going to need to discuss long-term solutions to this thing.
Over the meal, we fill the LA crew in on some of what happened in Sunnydale. We don’t address the deaths specifically, and Wes and Cordelia have the good grace not to ask about the other Scoobies. Cordelia does have a question though.
“Buffy,” she asks, almost like she doesn’t want to hear the answer, “were you ever in my parents’ neighborhood?”
B nods. “I checked their house. There was no one there. I’m sorry, Cordy.” I can tell by her downcast eyes that she’s feeling bad about this. Buffy’s always been like this, taking the weight of the world on her shoulders. She feels responsible for every life lost in Sunnydale, even though there was no way to save them. The deck’s always been stacked against her. But that doesn’t stop her from caring.
Nobody tries to suggest maybe Cordelia’s parents are alive. I doubt anyone is left alive in that town at this point. Wesley places his hand over hers briefly. “We’ve lost a lot of good people,” he murmurs, and I know he’s thinking of the people from Sunnydale, as well as the people who died senselessly at the hotel. “It isn’t fair, and at times it feels almost too much to bear.” I wait for him to say something about Cordelia’s vision and the hope it offers, but he lets it rest there. We all sit in silence, thinking of our own losses. The people from the prison weren’t exactly the type that most people would mourn for, but I do. It’s not right for people to die this way, no matter who they are.
Gunn is the first to speak, and he lifts his paper cup of water, holding it toward the center of the table. “To tomorrow,” he says quietly. I don’t know who he’s lost, but I can tell just by looking at him there was someone.
We all lift our cups. It’s hard to find things to toast to in the new world we have, but tomorrow is something we’re all hoping for. “To tomorrow,” we repeat, touching cups carefully.
After that, the mood perks up a little. I think we’re all enjoying a little break in the life or death scenarios for the night. I’m listening to Gunn and Wesley talk about the potential of the demon blood, when I hear Kim say something that makes me cringe.
“So Buffy,” she begins, “how do you and Faith know each other?”
My head turns so quick I probably look like a cartoon. Kim knows why I was locked up, but none of the details. It’s not something I really felt the need to share. I guess it’s all about to come out.
“We used to work together in Sunnydale,” B says easily, managing to gloss over our entire history. “After Faith went to, uh, prison, we fell out of touch.” She glances at me apologetically.
Oh, she’s sorry for outing me as a con? “Don’t worry about it, B,” I say. “Kim got paroled by the zombies too.”
“Oh,” B says, now eyeing Kim speculatively.
“Car thief,” Kim quickly supplies.
“Handy skill to have in the apocalypse,” Buffy replies, relaxing now that she realizes Kim’s relatively harmless. “So you guys knew each other inside?”
“Actually, we just met on the day that this all started. Faith saved my life.” Kim beams at me. “She was already safe, could have just kept going. But she didn’t. I couldn’t believe anyone would jump back down into hell like that, but she surprised me.”
“Yeah,” B says softly, and her eyes cut to mine. “She has a way of doing that.”
After dinner, Buffy wants to lie down, so I take her up to the floor I’ve been staying on. Most of the rooms stand empty and she’s got her pick of the group. She opts for the lonely end of the hall, far from Kim, Wes, and me. I get her a couple gallons of water to keep in her bathroom. Without running water, we have to use bottled for everything. And every drop of dirty water goes in the toilet tank. Someday we’re probably going to be coming up with alternatives to modern plumbing, but today ain’t that day.
It looks like she’s got everything she needs. I glance at her and she’s standing by the bed, looking at me.
“What?” I ask self-consciously. Why is she looking at me like that?
Buffy cocks her head, looking at me for a long moment. “You’re really not the Faith I knew anymore, are you?”
I digest that for a minute. “No offense, B, but you never really knew me at all.”
She flushes, nodding. “I guess not,” she admits. “You were hard to get to know.”
“You didn’t try.” The hard edge of anger in my voice surprises me, but I realize it’s true. She didn’t try. She had her life and her friends and her boyfriend, and I was just one more way slaying got in her way.
I’m expecting her to argue, but she slowly sits down on the edge of her bed. I can see the exhaustion in her frame. “You’re right,” she says. “I didn’t.”
My anger’s gone as quickly as it came. I decide to throw her a bone. “Got my head on straight but I’m still me, ” I tell her, addressing her original question. “Some things never change.”
“Some things do,” she says. She looks so lost it makes my throat ache.
I stand in the doorway, desperately wanting to stay with her. I’m looking for a sign, something to tell me she needs me here.
But Buffy catches herself, looking up at me with clearer eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Goodnight, B.” I close her door softly. I don’t know how she always leaves me feeling gutted, but she does. I take a moment to pull my shit together before heading back downstairs.
Later that night, I’m counting the ceiling tiles in the dark, and I hear her crying. There’s a couple of us on this floor, but I can tell it’s Buffy. She’s trying to keep quiet, probably mindful of all the supernatural hearing around her. I’m close enough to hear her small, exhausted sobs, and it twists my guts. I fantasize about creeping down the hall to her room and climbing into her bed. I’d pull her into my arms and hold her until every hurt was chased away. But she’s not mine to hold; she’s never gonna be. So I roll on my side and curl my legs up to my chest. I close my eyes and try to block her out.
XXXXX
In spite of Spike’s complaints, Angel gets us moving right after daybreak. The mood in the sewer is tense, and I’m keeping my trap shut about it. Anger is simmering between Buffy and Angel, and I’m not going to be the thing that causes the dam to erupt. Spike seems to have the opposite plan.
“How’s the jaw, mate?” He sidles up next to Angel and gives his best concerned face. Off Angel’s glower, he nods sympathetically. “She hits like a sledgehammer, our little slayer.”
“I’m nobody’s ‘little slayer,’” Buffy growls, “and you’re about to get reacquainted with my fist.”
Angel turns left, leading us down another tunnel. We’re following his memory of where the Mohra nest was. We’ve got no clue how to use their blood once we get it. You can’t exactly run up to each zombie in the world, slash their hand open, and plop a little demon blood in there. So basically, we’re flying blind. But even the barest hint of hope is better than nothing, so we keep on trudging through this sewer.
Spike’s quiet again. I assume he’s thinking of his next annoying comment. I almost plow into his back when he stops short in front of me. I glance over his shoulder and see Angel standing straight, his palm held up in warning. A warbling moan echoes down the tunnel a moment later. We all look sharp, holding our weapons at the ready, as one of the dead shambles into our tunnel from a junction several yards ahead. It’s more rancid than most, with the lower half of its body swollen and cracked from exposure to the water down here. The skin of its face is stretched thin over hollowed cheeks. The sheen of bone pokes from its shoulder and its left arm dangles uselessly beside it. And the smell… eau de zombie mixed with raw sewage. It’s almost enough to make me yak. Apparently it’s the same for Buffy, who doubles over, pressing her sleeve against her nose.
Angel creeps forward, intending to take this one out quickly, but he stops short when the shadows of several others flicker across the mouth of the tunnel. The zombie making his way toward us moans ravenously, and the horde behinds him echoes his sentiments. If the appearance of this one means anything, they’ve been starving down here. The sewer rats may be as big as dogs, but apparently they’re not nearly as filling.
“That’s a lot of O’s,” I point out. “Am I the only one thinking we should be backing up?”
“This is the fastest way,” Angel answers. “We need to fight through them and keep going.”
Buffy steps in front of him. “Fine, but you’re still weak. You take the rear.”
Angel looks like he wants to protest, but I step around him to stand next to Buffy. She smiles at me. “Poor zombies. Two slayers…”
“They’ll never know what hit ‘em,” I agree.
She leaps forward to take the closest one, and I rush past, raising my ax above my head as I meet the horde. I slash and stab, narrowly avoiding their teeth as they claw at me with bony, emaciated hands. The others are behind me, mowing the dead down slowly but steadily. Spike swears when one of them manages to sink its teeth into his forearm. Angel’s sword sinks through the zombie’s skull, and it slumps to the ground, releasing Spike. I’m stepping over the fallen bodies now, pushing forward through the crowd. Something grabs my ankle with unexpected strength, and I find myself going down before I can catch my balance.
“Faith!” Angel calls, just as my chin collides with the ground. My teeth dig into my lip, splitting it open and making me taste blood. The unblinking eyes of the dead man in front of me swim in and out of focus. He’s got at least three mouths, all of them opening toward me. Bits of black, dead flesh are caught between his teeth. I hear the echoing shouts of my friends as if they’re coming from far away, and I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. I open my eyes, and the teeth are closer than ever, closing in on my face.
There’s a crunching sound and then the teeth still, and torn, gray lips fold over them almost peacefully. I look up to see two Buffys, each withdrawing their sword from the skull of the zombie lying in front of me.
I close my eyes again, unnerved by the double vision. Buffy crouches beside me, her hands gentle on my face. “Faith,” she calls urgently, “can you hear me?”
Hear her? Her voice slams through my head like a freight train. It’s a pretty train, but it still leaves me wincing.
“Hear ya,” I mutter back. Buffy’s fingers prod my bloody chin, and I flinch.
“Okay,” she whispers urgently, “I’m gonna help you up.”
I coordinate myself somewhat functionally as she hauls me up from the ground, but I sway on my feet.
“I’ve got you.” Buffy’s hands grasp my shirtfront, holding me upright.
I chance opening my eyes again, and I’m pleased to see just one Buffy, although she’s a little blurry around the edges.
Her arm loops around my waist, holding me upright. “Are you okay?” She asks, her free hand brushing the hair from my face, looking for wounds. She winces when she sees my lip.
She’s close enough that I could kiss her, and I think about it for a second. She probably won’t knock me out since I’m obviously already injured. I settle for bringing my hand to her hip to steady myself. “Yeah.”
“How much further is it?” Buffy demands, glancing at Angel.
“Almost there,” he responds. “You got her?”
“Yep,” Buffy slips under my arm, shouldering some of my weight, and we start down the tunnel again. I’m still unsteady. My limbs feel oddly disconnected from my body, but Buffy’s arm around my waist keeps me going. I try to focus on their conversation as we walk, but my concentration fades in and out. My brain was obviously scrambled a bit by my meeting with the bottom of the pipe. That’s okay; I’m not that worried about what they’re saying. I’m using all my cognitive skills on memorizing the feel of Buffy’s arm around my waist.
Realizing we’ve stopped moving, I blink and try to focus again on what we’re doing.
“This is it?” Buffy asks, and Angel’s grim face nods back at her.
“Nothing here,” Spike points out the obvious.
“They must have moved on,” Angel admits, clearly frustrated.
We’re back to square one. No Mohra demons. Miles into the sewer system with more of the dead sure to be coming our way. And it’s at this moment that everything starts to fade out for me. The last thing I’m aware of is Buffy holding on to me as I slip to the ground.
XXXXX
What’d you think of Cordy’s vision? Was it what you guys were expecting? Please let me know what you thought! :)
I ended up splitting this chapter into 2, so now we have 16 chapters. :) Previously in Omega...
“No, that isn’t why we came.” Wesley’s worried gaze meets mine. “Cordelia had a vision.”
Chapter 12: Blurry Visions
Buffy gives Cordelia her full attention when she starts describing her vision. I’m half listening, trying to heat some lunch for all of us on this crappy portable burner. Everyone’s crowded into the bus now, with Gunn and Spike doing watch duty at opposite ends.
I hear something about Angel’s heart beating and smile. Maybe after all this shit we’ve gone through, something good’s really going to happen.
Cordelia continues, “And Buffy was there. You guys made with the horizontal mambo, which ew, I could have done without seeing.”
The can of beans I’m holding cracks within my fist, popping loudly. Everyone looks over at me. “Are you okay?” Buffy asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I wipe my hands off on a towel and try to muster up a smile.
She looks at me curiously before turning back to the group and addressing Angel. “Do you have any idea what it means? I mean… she heard your heart beat. That couldn’t happen, could it?”
Before Angel can respond, Wesley interjects, “It could be the Shanshu prophecy!”
“It’s not,” Angel offers, as Buffy asks what the prophecy is.
Wesley replies, “There’s a prophecy that one day, when his mission is complete, Angel will become human.”
Buffy looks to Angel. “And you never told me?”
“It isn’t that,” he repeats.
“How do you know?”
Angel looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and die, but he answers her anyway. “Because what Cordy saw, that already happened.”
Everyone looks confused now. I know I was a bit out of the loop in prison, but I’m pretty sure I woulda heard if Angel was alive again.
Fixing his gaze on Buffy, Angel continues, “It was a couple months ago. When you came to LA after Thanksgiving.”
“But… that didn’t happen.”
“It did,” Angel tells her. “You just don’t remember because I asked the Powers That Be to rewind the day.”
“So you wouldn’t become human,” Wesley says.
Angel nods, still waiting for Buffy to respond.
Her body is rigid, and I can practically see the anger growing in her. Finally she just asks, “Why?”
Angel’s full of explanations, about how he knew she’d die sooner if she was protecting him all the time, and how the world needed him as a vampire, but I can tell it’s going in one ear and out the other for Buffy. While he’s still speaking, she stands up and walks down the center of the bus toward me. I crank the door open, and she gives me a grateful nod before disappearing down the stairs.
An awkward silence fills the bus before Gunn asks, “So why are they showing this to us now?”
Angel sighs, “I became human again when the demon’s blood mixed with mine. The Mohra demon.”
Wesley puts it together first. “And if their blood can make a vampire with a soul human again…”
“It can probably heal the infected,” Angel finishes.
XXXXX
Kim settles in next to me with her lunch in hand. “So, that’s your straight girl, huh?”
My head whips around quickly, but Angel’s busy discussing Cordelia’s vision with the gang. Spike peers out the back window for signs of trouble. B is still outside. “Super hearing,” I tell Kim, tilting my head toward the back of the bus. “Keep it down, will you?”
“Sorry,” she says, her dark eyes widening.
I nod, continuing to eat.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is that her?” Kim asks, exasperated.
I see that she’s not going to drop it, so I sigh and give her a nod of affirmation.
“Pretty,” she offers quietly.
“Yeah.”
From the window next to me, I can see B standing 20 yards off, staring into the trees next to the road.
“You should bring her something,” Kim suggests, offering me her plate of food. It seems like an okay idea, so I take the plate and slide out of the seat after Kim.
“Thanks,” I say, on my way down the steps. Outside, the air is hot and dry. I pick my way across the freeway, arriving on Buffy’s left. “Thought you might be hungry,” I say, wiggling the plate in my hand.
She accepts the plate and thanks me quietly. I stay there, looking with her into the trees. After a moment, I offer, “Want me to stake him?”
That brings a little smile to her face, and Buffy sighs. “No, thanks. We kind of need him.”
“Damned apocalypse,” I scuff my boot angrily in the dirt.
Snorting softly, Buffy nods in agreement. Turning to face the bus, she leans her butt on the guardrail and starts to pick at the food I brought.
I do likewise, trying to think of the right thing to say. I’m not going to say I’m sorry Angel did what he did. I love Angel, but my time in the clink hasn’t reformed me enough to want him to get the girl. Not this girl anyway. Finally I settle for, “I think he thought it was the right thing to do, for what it’s worth.”
Buffy frowns, and I realize I’ve said the wrong thing.
Trying to fix it, I quickly continue. “I know he wouldn’t give you up unless he thought he had to.”
Buffy doesn’t respond for a moment, then she asks in a small voice, “How do you know?”
“Nobody would,” I tell her, wondering if that sounds as incredibly transparent to her as it does to me.
If the sharp glance she gives me is any indication, it does.
I try to think of something to say that makes it sound less like I was talking about me not giving her up, but before I can, Buffy recovers and knocks her knee into mine gently. “Thanks, Faith.”
“Sure,” I mutter. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and I sure hope I look cooler than I feel.
Mercifully, Buffy looks away, her eyes moving over the abandoned cars. “It’s not just Angel,” she murmurs after a while. From the sudden shine in her eyes, I know her thoughts are back in Sunnydale. Buffy’s a strong woman, she’s had to be, but nobody could go through what she has during the last few weeks and come out unaffected.
I struggle to think of something comforting to say. “G was a real good guy,” I start, intending to say something more intelligent.
But B shakes her head quickly. “I, umm, I can’t talk about him yet.”
I nod in understanding. “Sure.”
Buffy balances the food on her lap. The two of us watch the gleam of the afternoon sun on the road for a while, not talking.
When Buffy speaks, her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. “I know it’s my fault.”
“B, no,” I protest immediately, turning to look at her. She’s got her eyes on the food in her lap, hard to tell if they’re tearing up, but from her voice I’d bet they are.
“Giles was right,” she replies. “We should have left when he wanted to.”
“You couldn’t know what was going to happen,” I tell her.
Buffy shakes her head. “I knew what it was like in Sunnydale. I knew we weren’t all going to make it out… that I was putting them in danger. I just couldn’t go, not without…” she trails off, and the food slides from her lap as she brings her hands to her face.
“Nobody blames you for that,” I reassure her. I don’t actually know if that’s true, but if anybody does blame her, I’ll give ‘em a talking to. She had a family there. What good is being Chosen if you can’t save the people you love? I get why she had to try.
Buffy’s crying almost silently. Only the shaking of her shoulders gives it away.
I take her hands gently, and tug them away from her face. Buffy looks up at me through wet eyes. “I voted, too,” I tell her. “I was the tie breaker. If it’s anyone’s fault we stayed, it’s mine.” I’m the defective slayer, always have been. I can handle two more lives on my conscience. Buffy’s always tried to do what’s good. It’s not right for her to bear this by herself. I’m not gonna let her do it.
Buffy looks at me a long time. Then she looks at her hands, still cradled in mine. “It’s not,” she replies. “But thanks.”
I want to say something else, something to make her feel better. I’m drawing a blank.
Buffy squeezes my hands before she lets go. “We’d better get back,” she says, standing up. I follow her across the abandoned highway.
XXXXX
Angel basically refuses to rest at the hotel when we get there. Even though he’s still healing from what happened in Sunnydale, he insists we have to go hunt the Mohra right away. I mean, I get it; we’re looking at a potential cure. We all want that, after the people we’ve lost. But it’s not smart to go out when he’s in such bad shape, and I don’t waste any time telling him that.
“You’re barely on your feet,” I point out. “Let’s get some rest and wait until tomorrow.”
Buffy backs me up. “Faith’s right. It can wait one more day.”
“I’m fine,” Angel insists, “and I’m going now. So are you in or not?” He sways on his feet as he asks.
“Damn it, Angel,” Buffy cries, “you’re being reckless!”
“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” he shouts back.
Flinching, Buffy steps closer to him. “Neither do I,” she says before suddenly cocking back her fist and hitting him hard in the jaw.
Angel slumps to the ground, out cold.
“What?” Buffy asks innocently, seeing the rest of us looking at her in shock. “He wasn’t going to listen!”
Cordelia shakes her head in annoyance, dropping to her knees beside Angel.
“Nice hit,” I compliment, and Buffy gives me a weary smile.
“Well,” Wesley asks dryly, “who’s up for dinner?”
XXXXX
Dinner is cold canned goods and some soaked beans. The gas lines have long since stopped working, along with everything else. We could heat our food over a fire, or go back to the bus and use the portable burner, but with the amount of dead in the city, I’d rather not. Anything that draws attention to us is not a good idea. So we spoon beans and canned vegetables out onto paper plates. Luckily the sporting goods store was well stocked with oil lamps, so we don’t have to rely solely on candles anymore. I got a look in the pantry as we were getting dinner together; the canned goods are dwindling. We’ve got plenty of dried beans and cornmeal, and I guess technically people can live on any kind of food. But long-term, if we’re gonna stay healthy and outlast these zombies, we need more. We need to tackle this issue with the Mohra demons, but soon we’re going to need to discuss long-term solutions to this thing.
Over the meal, we fill the LA crew in on some of what happened in Sunnydale. We don’t address the deaths specifically, and Wes and Cordelia have the good grace not to ask about the other Scoobies. Cordelia does have a question though.
“Buffy,” she asks, almost like she doesn’t want to hear the answer, “were you ever in my parents’ neighborhood?”
B nods. “I checked their house. There was no one there. I’m sorry, Cordy.” I can tell by her downcast eyes that she’s feeling bad about this. Buffy’s always been like this, taking the weight of the world on her shoulders. She feels responsible for every life lost in Sunnydale, even though there was no way to save them. The deck’s always been stacked against her. But that doesn’t stop her from caring.
Nobody tries to suggest maybe Cordelia’s parents are alive. I doubt anyone is left alive in that town at this point. Wesley places his hand over hers briefly. “We’ve lost a lot of good people,” he murmurs, and I know he’s thinking of the people from Sunnydale, as well as the people who died senselessly at the hotel. “It isn’t fair, and at times it feels almost too much to bear.” I wait for him to say something about Cordelia’s vision and the hope it offers, but he lets it rest there. We all sit in silence, thinking of our own losses. The people from the prison weren’t exactly the type that most people would mourn for, but I do. It’s not right for people to die this way, no matter who they are.
Gunn is the first to speak, and he lifts his paper cup of water, holding it toward the center of the table. “To tomorrow,” he says quietly. I don’t know who he’s lost, but I can tell just by looking at him there was someone.
We all lift our cups. It’s hard to find things to toast to in the new world we have, but tomorrow is something we’re all hoping for. “To tomorrow,” we repeat, touching cups carefully.
After that, the mood perks up a little. I think we’re all enjoying a little break in the life or death scenarios for the night. I’m listening to Gunn and Wesley talk about the potential of the demon blood, when I hear Kim say something that makes me cringe.
“So Buffy,” she begins, “how do you and Faith know each other?”
My head turns so quick I probably look like a cartoon. Kim knows why I was locked up, but none of the details. It’s not something I really felt the need to share. I guess it’s all about to come out.
“We used to work together in Sunnydale,” B says easily, managing to gloss over our entire history. “After Faith went to, uh, prison, we fell out of touch.” She glances at me apologetically.
Oh, she’s sorry for outing me as a con? “Don’t worry about it, B,” I say. “Kim got paroled by the zombies too.”
“Oh,” B says, now eyeing Kim speculatively.
“Car thief,” Kim quickly supplies.
“Handy skill to have in the apocalypse,” Buffy replies, relaxing now that she realizes Kim’s relatively harmless. “So you guys knew each other inside?”
“Actually, we just met on the day that this all started. Faith saved my life.” Kim beams at me. “She was already safe, could have just kept going. But she didn’t. I couldn’t believe anyone would jump back down into hell like that, but she surprised me.”
“Yeah,” B says softly, and her eyes cut to mine. “She has a way of doing that.”
After dinner, Buffy wants to lie down, so I take her up to the floor I’ve been staying on. Most of the rooms stand empty and she’s got her pick of the group. She opts for the lonely end of the hall, far from Kim, Wes, and me. I get her a couple gallons of water to keep in her bathroom. Without running water, we have to use bottled for everything. And every drop of dirty water goes in the toilet tank. Someday we’re probably going to be coming up with alternatives to modern plumbing, but today ain’t that day.
It looks like she’s got everything she needs. I glance at her and she’s standing by the bed, looking at me.
“What?” I ask self-consciously. Why is she looking at me like that?
Buffy cocks her head, looking at me for a long moment. “You’re really not the Faith I knew anymore, are you?”
I digest that for a minute. “No offense, B, but you never really knew me at all.”
She flushes, nodding. “I guess not,” she admits. “You were hard to get to know.”
“You didn’t try.” The hard edge of anger in my voice surprises me, but I realize it’s true. She didn’t try. She had her life and her friends and her boyfriend, and I was just one more way slaying got in her way.
I’m expecting her to argue, but she slowly sits down on the edge of her bed. I can see the exhaustion in her frame. “You’re right,” she says. “I didn’t.”
My anger’s gone as quickly as it came. I decide to throw her a bone. “Got my head on straight but I’m still me, ” I tell her, addressing her original question. “Some things never change.”
“Some things do,” she says. She looks so lost it makes my throat ache.
I stand in the doorway, desperately wanting to stay with her. I’m looking for a sign, something to tell me she needs me here.
But Buffy catches herself, looking up at me with clearer eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Goodnight, B.” I close her door softly. I don’t know how she always leaves me feeling gutted, but she does. I take a moment to pull my shit together before heading back downstairs.
Later that night, I’m counting the ceiling tiles in the dark, and I hear her crying. There’s a couple of us on this floor, but I can tell it’s Buffy. She’s trying to keep quiet, probably mindful of all the supernatural hearing around her. I’m close enough to hear her small, exhausted sobs, and it twists my guts. I fantasize about creeping down the hall to her room and climbing into her bed. I’d pull her into my arms and hold her until every hurt was chased away. But she’s not mine to hold; she’s never gonna be. So I roll on my side and curl my legs up to my chest. I close my eyes and try to block her out.
XXXXX
In spite of Spike’s complaints, Angel gets us moving right after daybreak. The mood in the sewer is tense, and I’m keeping my trap shut about it. Anger is simmering between Buffy and Angel, and I’m not going to be the thing that causes the dam to erupt. Spike seems to have the opposite plan.
“How’s the jaw, mate?” He sidles up next to Angel and gives his best concerned face. Off Angel’s glower, he nods sympathetically. “She hits like a sledgehammer, our little slayer.”
“I’m nobody’s ‘little slayer,’” Buffy growls, “and you’re about to get reacquainted with my fist.”
Angel turns left, leading us down another tunnel. We’re following his memory of where the Mohra nest was. We’ve got no clue how to use their blood once we get it. You can’t exactly run up to each zombie in the world, slash their hand open, and plop a little demon blood in there. So basically, we’re flying blind. But even the barest hint of hope is better than nothing, so we keep on trudging through this sewer.
Spike’s quiet again. I assume he’s thinking of his next annoying comment. I almost plow into his back when he stops short in front of me. I glance over his shoulder and see Angel standing straight, his palm held up in warning. A warbling moan echoes down the tunnel a moment later. We all look sharp, holding our weapons at the ready, as one of the dead shambles into our tunnel from a junction several yards ahead. It’s more rancid than most, with the lower half of its body swollen and cracked from exposure to the water down here. The skin of its face is stretched thin over hollowed cheeks. The sheen of bone pokes from its shoulder and its left arm dangles uselessly beside it. And the smell… eau de zombie mixed with raw sewage. It’s almost enough to make me yak. Apparently it’s the same for Buffy, who doubles over, pressing her sleeve against her nose.
Angel creeps forward, intending to take this one out quickly, but he stops short when the shadows of several others flicker across the mouth of the tunnel. The zombie making his way toward us moans ravenously, and the horde behinds him echoes his sentiments. If the appearance of this one means anything, they’ve been starving down here. The sewer rats may be as big as dogs, but apparently they’re not nearly as filling.
“That’s a lot of O’s,” I point out. “Am I the only one thinking we should be backing up?”
“This is the fastest way,” Angel answers. “We need to fight through them and keep going.”
Buffy steps in front of him. “Fine, but you’re still weak. You take the rear.”
Angel looks like he wants to protest, but I step around him to stand next to Buffy. She smiles at me. “Poor zombies. Two slayers…”
“They’ll never know what hit ‘em,” I agree.
She leaps forward to take the closest one, and I rush past, raising my ax above my head as I meet the horde. I slash and stab, narrowly avoiding their teeth as they claw at me with bony, emaciated hands. The others are behind me, mowing the dead down slowly but steadily. Spike swears when one of them manages to sink its teeth into his forearm. Angel’s sword sinks through the zombie’s skull, and it slumps to the ground, releasing Spike. I’m stepping over the fallen bodies now, pushing forward through the crowd. Something grabs my ankle with unexpected strength, and I find myself going down before I can catch my balance.
“Faith!” Angel calls, just as my chin collides with the ground. My teeth dig into my lip, splitting it open and making me taste blood. The unblinking eyes of the dead man in front of me swim in and out of focus. He’s got at least three mouths, all of them opening toward me. Bits of black, dead flesh are caught between his teeth. I hear the echoing shouts of my friends as if they’re coming from far away, and I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. I open my eyes, and the teeth are closer than ever, closing in on my face.
There’s a crunching sound and then the teeth still, and torn, gray lips fold over them almost peacefully. I look up to see two Buffys, each withdrawing their sword from the skull of the zombie lying in front of me.
I close my eyes again, unnerved by the double vision. Buffy crouches beside me, her hands gentle on my face. “Faith,” she calls urgently, “can you hear me?”
Hear her? Her voice slams through my head like a freight train. It’s a pretty train, but it still leaves me wincing.
“Hear ya,” I mutter back. Buffy’s fingers prod my bloody chin, and I flinch.
“Okay,” she whispers urgently, “I’m gonna help you up.”
I coordinate myself somewhat functionally as she hauls me up from the ground, but I sway on my feet.
“I’ve got you.” Buffy’s hands grasp my shirtfront, holding me upright.
I chance opening my eyes again, and I’m pleased to see just one Buffy, although she’s a little blurry around the edges.
Her arm loops around my waist, holding me upright. “Are you okay?” She asks, her free hand brushing the hair from my face, looking for wounds. She winces when she sees my lip.
She’s close enough that I could kiss her, and I think about it for a second. She probably won’t knock me out since I’m obviously already injured. I settle for bringing my hand to her hip to steady myself. “Yeah.”
“How much further is it?” Buffy demands, glancing at Angel.
“Almost there,” he responds. “You got her?”
“Yep,” Buffy slips under my arm, shouldering some of my weight, and we start down the tunnel again. I’m still unsteady. My limbs feel oddly disconnected from my body, but Buffy’s arm around my waist keeps me going. I try to focus on their conversation as we walk, but my concentration fades in and out. My brain was obviously scrambled a bit by my meeting with the bottom of the pipe. That’s okay; I’m not that worried about what they’re saying. I’m using all my cognitive skills on memorizing the feel of Buffy’s arm around my waist.
Realizing we’ve stopped moving, I blink and try to focus again on what we’re doing.
“This is it?” Buffy asks, and Angel’s grim face nods back at her.
“Nothing here,” Spike points out the obvious.
“They must have moved on,” Angel admits, clearly frustrated.
We’re back to square one. No Mohra demons. Miles into the sewer system with more of the dead sure to be coming our way. And it’s at this moment that everything starts to fade out for me. The last thing I’m aware of is Buffy holding on to me as I slip to the ground.
XXXXX
What’d you think of Cordy’s vision? Was it what you guys were expecting? Please let me know what you thought! :)