Fic: Lapsang Souchong - Part 3
“One,” fist met palm, “Two,” again, “Three,” and on the fourth downward movement her fist flattened into the universal symbol for paper and was instantly cut by Faith’s scissor-ed fingers before the brunette grinned and took off after the last vampire. “Damn,” was groused at the now vacant spot in front of her and Buffy sighed before digging the heel of her boot into the malleable sod and spinning to watch Faith gain on the vampire as he headed towards the front of the cemetery.
She leapt over a headstone and landed easily, stride lengthening to run even with his before Faith prompted, voice nonchalant, “Where ya going?”
Buffy followed the pair at a more sedated pace as the vampire tossed Faith a confused, nearly panicked, look before she body checked him into a nearby tree. Buffy winced as he smacked face first into the hard bark and then toppled backwards to the grass. Faith paused long enough to shake her head before falling to one knee and bringing her stake rushing downward, fist hitting against his chest with a meaty thud before he shuddered and shrieked and dissolved into ash.
The brunette tossed a smirk over her shoulder as she rose, using her free hand to brush off the thin layer of dust covering her front as she tucked her stake back into the waistband of her jeans. Buffy strolled past Faith and the brunette fell into step with her as they made their way through the rest of the, now, boringly quiet cemetery. After nearly two hours with nothing but country music between herself and Xander she was ready to chatter and topic-hop and do something other then mope-moping was clearly of the bad and she wanted no part of it.
Faith’s voice cut across the silence, which was quickly turning awkward, between them as she asked, “So that’s what now? Six to four?”
Her head turned and she gave the brunette’s profile a quick study, noting her smirk, and answered her question with another question, “We’re keeping score?”
“Hell yeah!”
The enthusiasm backing Faith’s quick response forced a laugh from Buffy as she turned back to the narrow path in front of them and snarked, “How many times have you saved the world, again?”
“Please,” Faith scoffed and snapped back, “you ate it each time.”
“So?” Buffy stopped, shot Faith a quick glare, “dieing does in no way negate the fact that I saved the world,” there was pause before she emphasized, “twice!”
“B,” the brunette stopped with her and quirked a brow, “those were so null’n’voided when you died.”
“Whatever,” Buffy turned and started back down the path toward the street, “I’ll just have to save the world again and maybe I’ll let you help,” a shrug lifted her jacket-covered shoulder and she offered, “’cause I’m nice like that.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I wanna die.” Faith lengthened her stride so that she was leading Buffy onto the street outside of the cemetery and continued with, “’sides I have my own badass villains to worry about.”
A slow nod accompanied Buffy’s statement of, “Yes, the Mayor of Sunnydale is the epitome of badassery.”
“No,” Faith contradicted, “that would be us.”
“We’re the epitome of badassery?” Buffy’s head cocked as she considered the thought before a slow smile spread her lips. “I kinda love that.”
“You, should. You came up with it,” with a snort and a quick glance from side to side, Faith crossed the deserted street, “I still can’t believe my big bad is the mayor.” She stepped up, onto the sidewalk and Buffy followed her as Faith groused, “You get kick ass villains to face off against and I get-”
“A big bad that has the entire city backing them.”
Buffy’s interruption stopped Faith mid-complaint and she inclined her head. “Huh,” brown eyes narrowed and she glanced to Buffy before raising her brows, “At least we’ve proved that politicians are, for a fact, evil.”
“Some,” she agreed with a quick nod, “Of course we could just shoot him. I mean he is human,” a line appeared between her brows, “Isn’t he?”
Faith shrugged and started moving again, leading them further from the cemetery and towards the more people friendly areas of Sunnydale before asking, “What’s with you and the guns?”
“I told you about the Colt,” Buffy caught Faith’s sharp nod and continued with, “Well what I didn’t tell you was that rock salt in gun shell casings and nasty spirits are unmixy things.”
Faith’s head pivoted toward her, “No way.”
“Yes, way,” Buffy nodded and they turned down Hillside Road, “I saw it on YouTube.” She let that sink in a moment before explaining, “There were all these how to videos on ghost hunting by the Ghost-Chasers,” she paused, frowned, “or was it Ghost-Facers?” Off Faith’s raised brows she rolled her eyes and refocused, “Whatever, that’s beside the point. Shotgun shells filled with rock salt work like a charm and, apparently, the Winchesters suck ass.”
“The who?”
Buffy shrugged. “Beats me, but the guys doing the videos seemed to have an abnormal amount of hate for them.”
They passed beneath a canopy of trees and Buffy tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket as a lull formed in their conversation and as she turned her head to ask Faith a vapid question to restart the flow of conversation Faith beat her to the punch and stated, “I still say a Slayer using guns is just weird.”
Reading behind that waspish statement, Buffy offered, “Want me to teach you?”
“God, yes,” Faith grinned, “So tell me more about this Colt.”
“Aside from the fact that it kicks demonic ass I don’t really know much.” Buffy hesitated, nearly stumbling as Faith suddenly crossed her path and headed into the trees surrounding them. “Where are we going?”
“Short cut,” was Faith’s only response and her brows rose as she retook her step and turned, following the brunette into the moonlight filled woods.
After only a few minutes Buffy noticed almost instantly that the trees were becoming sporadic and without much warning they fell away completely and the pair were dropped into neatly manicured lawns. The houses surrounding them were pristine, well-maintained monuments to normalcy that just did not belong in Sunnydale-nothing normal belonged in Sunnydale.
Faith’s thick-heeled boots cut through the damp grass and lead them past a few homes with the sounds of manufactured laughter falling from their open windows as the families that lived there enjoyed their time together and Buffy’s stomach rolled with the sound. Her stride faltering as she remembered the family she’d helped to destroy and her jaw thrust forward before she attempted to ignore the remorse blurring her vision. Her head bowed and she followed Faith, nearly plowing her over when she failed to notice the other Slayer had stopped and Buffy blinked back her tears as she looked up and stared in confusion at the park in front of them.
She spun, noted the semi-circle of homes surrounding them before she turned back to the metal and plastic construction standing before them and suddenly Faith was gone, making her way through the sand and past the monkey bars to claim a swing for herself. Buffy raised a brow as the brunette waved her over and she absently brushed away the dampness from her cheeks, grateful for the fact that Faith was ignoring her tears, and settled herself beside her sister in arms.
The tip of her boot nudged her back and brought a gentle sway to her swing as Faith grasped the metal chains sitting parallel to her and walked hers back several paces before settling her ass and lifting her legs. She passed Buffy with a woop of delight and snapped her legs back on the fall, leaning her chest forward and on her downward swing she ordered, “B, live a little.”
Blonde hair slipped forward to rest against her neck as Buffy bowed her head and followed Faith’s example. Walking her swing back several steps, she was suddenly grateful she hadn’t worn a skirt as she seated herself on the narrow plastic seat and lifted her legs. The sudden exhilaration as she swung forward pushed back the thoughts of the family haunting her and she bent her knees as she reached the pinnacle of her swing and began to fall backwards.
Her legs straightened, knees locking on her forward swing and she ignored the gritty feel of the sand she was kicking up when her boot heels scraped the indentation she was creating beneath her. A laugh tickled the back of her throat and Buffy smiled as she noticed she and Faith were on opposite cycles, one would fall as the other rose, and they shared a quick grin before both faced forward and continued to pump their feet in time with their pendulum-like swings.
A cloud eased its way across the moon and leached the color from the small park, throwing them into dappled shadows as the first of their laughter replaced the light. Filling this small pocket of normalcy with something very close to happiness and Buffy turned her head, gasping as she told Faith, “I can not tell you how much I needed this.”
Her only response was Faith’s smile of triumph and another lifting of her knees as her sister Slayer attempted to pull an ‘Inside Out Boy’ and make it over the bar. The snap of her chains the higher she got filled the sudden quiet left after their laughter and Buffy’s swings slowed, losing their momentum as reality set back in and the clouds darkening the sky thickened. When her swing came to a complete stop she rose and grasped the chains tighter, anchoring them as she straddled the narrow seat and made it easier for her to watch Faith.
She leaned back against one of the chains as she kept a firm grip on the other in front of her and after a few minutes the metal supports on the set began to shudder and groan and with a curse Faith’s swings slowed. The mass of tight brown curls Faith hair had started out the night in had become windblown and fell around her pale features in a loose mass that was more flattering then the previous style-not that Buffy was going to tell Faith that, since she liked her nose just the way it was, thanks very much.
Once the brunette’s swing had come to a complete stop she mirrored Buffy and straddled her swing so that they were sitting face to face. A hand reached forward, wrapping around the chain in front of Faith and she leaned into her arm as she gave Buffy a careful study before asking, voice uncertain, “Wanna talk?”
Her jaw clenched, nostrils flaring slightly as she looked past Faith and toward the homes and the families, the false comfort surrounding them and wanted so badly to confide, to just say something, anything. Faith interrupted her internal struggle with, “It’s alright if you don’t,” she paused and Buffy shifted her focus back to her, saw Faith’s bowed head and the toe of her boot digging in the sand, “I’m here when you do,” her shoulders stiffened, “If you do.”
“I wasn’t the Slayer.” Buffy averted her gaze, stared past Faith as the brunette’s head snapped back up and she felt her gaze on her as she clarified, “In hell. I wasn’t the Slayer. I wasn’t anything,” a tremble entered her voice and it grew quieter as she continued to focus anywhere, but on Faith, “I was weak. They made me weak and the things they did,” she paused, her tongue easing out to wet suddenly dry lips, “They ripped you apart and you felt it. Every cut of a blade. Every blow. Everything. You. Felt. It.”
She bit out the last sentence and the first stirrings of anger eased their way forward to thread in her voice as she continued unaware that she’d slipped into present tense, “They fuck with your head and they break you. They break you over and over,” a tear slipped past her lashes to fall down her cheek as the anger faded and she sagged, adding one last, “and over,” before falling quiet.
“Buffy.” She flinched with Faith’s hesitant utterance of her name, but turned her head and met her horrified gaze. There was a moment of silence as Faith searched her face before anger, for her, for what she had been through, replaced the horror and the brunette rose, offered Buffy her hand and stated, “Let’s go kick the shit outta something.”
She hadn’t told Faith everything, she’d barely told her a thimbleful, but it had been enough to loosen the tightness in her stomach a few degrees and she took the offered help. Buffy rose and gave Faith a tired smile before agreeing, “I like that plan.”
Faith linked her arm through Buffy’s and explained, “It’s not so much a plan, B, as a way of life.”
~*~
Mist had settled in the shallow valleys of Shady Hill Cemetery, saturating the grass and leaving a heavy chill to the morning air that brought a slight chatter to Buffy’s teeth. She clenched her jaw, pushing her next breath out through her nose and she ignored the way it fogged the air in front of her as she made her way through the temporary markers that had, for the time being, replaced the marble and granite tombstones her resurrection had destroyed. The trees toppled that day had been removed and the gapping holes filled with fresh soil and sod and in some areas saplings had been planted.
The soles of her boots crunched over the newly laid gravel walkway as she made her way deeper, retracing the path she’d taken as the sky paled from grey to lavender and the sun rose, breaking the horizon. Light spilled through the shrubbery acting as privacy walls between Shady Hill and the outside world as Buffy hesitated in her next step. Green eyes narrowed on the few markers still standing along the north side and she made her way closer, past a dank and hollowed out mausoleum, only half standing in the quickly fading twilight.
Several small walls of granite stood directly across from her and Buffy saw that the hole she’d crawled her way out of had been refilled and smoothed. The padded shoulders of her jacket hunched as she rolled them inward and her hands, warm and safe in the lined pockets of her coat, balled into fists and began to tremble with the urge to shatter the tactile reminder of her own death standing before her. A faint sound above her inclined Buffy’s head and she turned away from her grave, falling back a step and then another before looking skyward.
It grew in intensity and volume, vaguely reminding her of the sound paper made when shuffled and Buffy took another step backwards, gaze trained upward. Green eyes narrowed and then widened as the sound snapped into focus and she realized it was the clatter wings that were quickly joined by a soft chorus of bells as the sky above her brightened. The splash of blue across dark lavender paled to a vivid white that left her breathless and blinking. The light continued to grow in proximity and clarity, until it encompassed everything else and Buffy collapsed backwards, impacting the damp grass and falling deeper.
A spasm shook her body and the sense of falling evaporated as she awoke, frowning at the fact that her head was suddenly cushioned by her arms and she was staring down at a well polished tabletop. Her brows dipped, pulling together as she lifted her head, chin coming to rest on her forearms as she looked to the stack of books directly in front of her. Lashes dipping as her eyes narrowed on their text-less spines and she lifted her chin and raised her upper body, slowly taking in the fact that she was in the library of Sunnydale High School.
The corners of her mouth drew inward as she leaned back from the table, palms pressed to the edge as she glanced toward the double doors leading into the school. Her frown became more prominent as a small frame, blood pooled beneath them flickered in an out of existence and Buffy tried shake off the vague sense of confusion muddling her thoughts as she turned away from the phantom memory and stiffened, eyes widening at the sight of a prettier then most woman, not much older then herself, sitting across from her.
Buffy simply stared at her a moment, noticing how very red her hair looked against the pale green of her jacket and that she had a few too many buttons opened on her blouse. Pale hands were pressed, fingers spread wide, against the table between them and Buffy frowned at the peaceful posture and pose before the woman’s bottom-heavy mouth quirked and she offered, “Hello, Buffy.”
After a moment’s hesitation Buffy replied, “Hi.”
“I’m sorry.”
Buffy blinked, suddenly more confused then before and prompted, “For?”
“The cemetery,” she paused, dark brows dipping as Buffy remained wholly confused and she explained, “my arrival. I was certain you would be able to gaze upon me…” she trailed off, offered a somewhat feeble shrug, “I’m sorry.”
The chair Buffy was sitting in clattered backwards as she suddenly rose, her confusion gone as her memory of the cemetery and all that transpired moments before her arrival in the library came rushing back. She took several steps away from the table, the stranger, placing herself closer to the stairs leading up to the higher section of the library and the weapons cabinet before she stiffened, understanding completely dawning as she stated, “I’m unconscious.”
A pinched look briefly flickered across the redhead’s features before she rose and reiterated, “I am sorry.”
“Right,” Buffy’s arms rose, crossing beneath her breasts as she shot her a considering look, “what else are you?”
“You don’t know?”
Buffy frowned at the raising of her dark brows and sighed. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she took another step closer and Buffy tensed, she paused and offered, “I’m Anna.”
The blonde shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, swaying back with the movement as she prompted, “Well, Anna,” there was a slight pause after the name before Buffy finished, “what can I do you for?”
Another half smile lifted the angel’s mouth. “I wanted to meet you. Talk with you.”
“About?” Buffy frowned at her second one word question in less then a minute.
“I wanted to offer you my help.”
“Why?” There went another one-eloquent she currently was not. Buffy uncrossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders as she took a small step forward and clarified, “Aren’t you already helping me?”
Anna moved toward her, but paused when Buffy flinched back. “I’m different from the others you’ve met.”
“Different? Different how?” Buffy frowned and offered, “Well you’re not as rude as Uriel.”
“Few are.”
Her dry response had Buffy’s eyes widening and she added, “And you might have a sense of humor.”
Anna’s smile spread and then vanished as if it had never been, her head inclining and gaze growing unfocused a moment before her chin lifted and her green eyes locked with Buffy’s. “I have to go, but before I do,” she took another step closer, “do you want my help?”
“Wait, now wait just a damn minute,” Buffy snapped and then glared at the angel, “You come outta nowhere and then just as suddenly you want to leave? What the hell?”
“I’m not like the others and I don’t have time to explain how and why that is,” Anna was simply in front of Buffy and the blonde stiffened, nearly falling in her attempt to back away as the angel caught the crook of her right arm and continued with, “I’m exposed at the moment, but I want to help you.”
“I don’t know you! How can I trust you?”
“How can you trust Castiel?”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What is that suppose to mean?”
“Do you know his orders?” Anna took another step, invading Buffy’s personal space and the tight grip on her arm held the blonde immobile as she asked, “Where they come from?”
“Heaven.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Castiel is one of the good guys.”
Buffy swallowed, mouth falling into a thin line as she stared mutinously up at Anna whose voice softened as she agreed, “Castiel is one of the few that I would trust,” she paused before adding, “within reason.” Her gaze searched Buffy’s once more before she sighed and stated, “I wanted your permission, but I don’t need it.”
Warmth enveloped the bend of her right arm and Buffy’s eyes widened as that warmth seeped through her coat and sweater to sear her flesh. She gasped, falling to her knees as the pain radiated up her arm and into her shoulder. Buffy ground her teeth together as Anna gazed down at her, brow drawn low as she offered, voice tired, “I really am sorry,” and then the pain continued upward, cording the muscles in Buffy’s neck.
It struck her head, her mind as a white hot rush of agony that bowed Buffy’s spine and she collapsed backwards as another spasm racked her slim frame. She awoke in the damp grass, blinking up at the pale blue sky and pushed back the disorientation of yet another reality shift. Her elbows dug into the damp grass beneath her and she eased herself up slowly, careful to keep her head as steady as feasibly possible while it continue to throb in time with her irregular and frantic heartbeat.
When the power-bar she’d snagged from Dormer’s pantry remained in her stomach Buffy risked putting palm to ground as she rose on shaky legs. Wincing slightly when the bend of her elbow protested the extra weight and she ignored it, for the moment, to focus on getting out of Shady Hill Cemetery and to the false safety of her car. Tucking her right arm close to her body she moved swiftly and silently back through the temporary markers and mist, wishing silently the sun had risen high enough to beat at her back and chase away the chill settling deep.
She passed the tall wall of vines and shrubs acting as the not so stable wall of the cemetery and used her left hand to flip back her coat and reach into her right pocket for her car keys. Nimble fingers snagged the cold key ring and dragged them free as she slow-jogged the rest of the way to her Civic and after only a few fumbling tries the driver’s side door was open and she was behind the wheel. Buffy jabbed the lock with her thumb, locking the door and sat back, staring blankly out the windshield toward the empty street and the just waking up neighborhood beyond it.
Transferring her keys to her right hand she ground her teeth together as she stretched out her arm and forced herself to turn on her car. The engine purred to life and she quickly flipped the air-conditioning on and turned the dial to red while whispering to her car’s engine, “Come on, baby, warm up,” before giving the dash a reassuring pat of encouragement with her left hand.
The sharp stinging in her right arm was quickly fading to a dull throb and she wasn’t entirely sure which hurt more at the moment, her head or her arm, but both were being complete and utter bitches. Letting her head fall back to rest against the back of her seat, she closed her eyes a moment, focusing instead on her breathing and waited for the car to heat up enough so that she could remove her jacket in relative comfort. A few minutes of silence passed in which her heartbeat slowed to a more natural rhythm and the interior of her car became less frigid then the outside world and Buffy finally opened her eyes.
Sunlight had come to spill across the dash of her car and she smiled with the fact that her head felt a little less heavy as she leaned forward and began to unbutton her coat. The plaid peacoat she’d worn to see Cordelia the day before was peeled away from her front and she shrugged her shoulders out of it, before freeing her left arm and using it to free her right. The throb at the bend of her elbow intensified with the added movement as she struggled to push the coat sleeve down and off without aggravating it further.
Tension tightened her shoulders and jaw, until she breathed a sigh of relief when the coat fell to rest in the seat next to her and her right arm was free. Buffy flexed the fingers of her right hand, feeling only a slight twinge when she moved them before beginning to gently pull up her sweater’s sleeve. The tension in her jaw forced her to thrust it forward as the soft fabric was dragged against her skin and reminded her more of sandpaper then spun wool.
She shoved it up the rest of the way and then paused, green eyes widening at sight of the raised and welted skin, barely the size of a quarter, sitting between the bend of her arm and the slightly protruding bone of her elbow. Buffy frowned at the marking and winced as she straightened her arm, flattening the raised edges of the welt so that she could see it in stark red contrast to her pale skin. It was slightly off center, sitting closer to the tender skin on the inside of the bend of her arm and the circular shape and odd markings in the center made her guess it was Anna’s mark-just like the handprint was Castiel’s.
“Son of a bitch,” Buffy snarled to no one in particular before shaking her sweater back down and over her soon to be newest scar.
Leaning forward she snagged her cell out of the cup holder nearest to her and sent a quick text to Faith and Willow, before turning and tugging her seatbelt over and on. The downward shove of her hand made a satisfying click as the seatbelt locked and she pressed down on the brake before putting the car in drive and placing her cell back in the cup holder. She’d planned on making one more visit to Cordelia, but she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with involving her friends-especially the wounded-with all the celestial beings and what not. The Civic pulled away from the curb and she led it away from Shady Hill Cemetery and toward one of the main roads leading out of Sunnydale.
At the first stop sign she flipped the visor down and unhooked her sunglasses from it before placing the square frames over her eyes just as the sun was becoming glaring. She eased the car forward, into the early morning traffic and welcomed the quiet that accompanied her to the city limits. Relaxing into her seat and silently debating between simply heading to Primrose’s or taking a picture of this new development, it took Buffy a moment to realize she had a passenger.
The Civic swerved, cutting across to the next lane of traffic and then back into her own as Buffy shot Castiel a glare and groused, “Polite people announce themselves.”
He remained focused on the world outside the windshield for a long moment before his head turned, slow and precise, toward her. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you just make a funny?” She paused before adding, “Did it hurt?”
The trench coat that draped his lean frame crinkled with his slight shift, as if he were human and uneasy, in the seat before he stated, “I thought perhaps,” Castiel paused, again as if he were unsure, before continuing with, “you would welcome some company for a short while.”
Her brows rose sharply towards her hairline, hands tensing against the steering wheel and that involuntary movement brought with it a searing pain as Anna’s mark made itself known to her once more. Buffy frowned, glancing down at the burn hidden by her sweater before a pointed chin dropped in agreement and she asked, “Am I heading anywhere in particular?”
“Creedmoor, Texas.”
“Wow, an actual city and state,” she glanced at him briefly, “I’m impressed, Castiel.” Her smile spread with his silence and she reached out, adjusting her visor as she merged the Civic with the rushing traffic on the highway and waited until they were in they were safely in the middle lane before asking, almost hopeful he would reply, “What’s in Creedmoor?”
Castiel remained facing forward as he spoke, voice soft and grave, “A very special, very important rosary.”
“So the Catholics got it right?”
She felt, more then saw, Castiel turn to gaze at her as he stated, “The rosary is a symbol of faith as is the Star of David.”
“So you’re not giving an inch?” When he failed to reply Buffy rolled her eyes and refocused, “What do you need this rosary for?”
“I do not.”
“Then why are we going to get it?”
“The rosary belonged to a priest who achieved Sainthood.” Castiel paused in his explanation and returned to facing forward before explaining, “That type of faith, devotion carries power. It carries protection. We are obtaining this rosary for you.”
“Oh.” Buffy contemplated the perfect reply before settling on, “cool beans.”
The end.
She leapt over a headstone and landed easily, stride lengthening to run even with his before Faith prompted, voice nonchalant, “Where ya going?”
Buffy followed the pair at a more sedated pace as the vampire tossed Faith a confused, nearly panicked, look before she body checked him into a nearby tree. Buffy winced as he smacked face first into the hard bark and then toppled backwards to the grass. Faith paused long enough to shake her head before falling to one knee and bringing her stake rushing downward, fist hitting against his chest with a meaty thud before he shuddered and shrieked and dissolved into ash.
The brunette tossed a smirk over her shoulder as she rose, using her free hand to brush off the thin layer of dust covering her front as she tucked her stake back into the waistband of her jeans. Buffy strolled past Faith and the brunette fell into step with her as they made their way through the rest of the, now, boringly quiet cemetery. After nearly two hours with nothing but country music between herself and Xander she was ready to chatter and topic-hop and do something other then mope-moping was clearly of the bad and she wanted no part of it.
Faith’s voice cut across the silence, which was quickly turning awkward, between them as she asked, “So that’s what now? Six to four?”
Her head turned and she gave the brunette’s profile a quick study, noting her smirk, and answered her question with another question, “We’re keeping score?”
“Hell yeah!”
The enthusiasm backing Faith’s quick response forced a laugh from Buffy as she turned back to the narrow path in front of them and snarked, “How many times have you saved the world, again?”
“Please,” Faith scoffed and snapped back, “you ate it each time.”
“So?” Buffy stopped, shot Faith a quick glare, “dieing does in no way negate the fact that I saved the world,” there was pause before she emphasized, “twice!”
“B,” the brunette stopped with her and quirked a brow, “those were so null’n’voided when you died.”
“Whatever,” Buffy turned and started back down the path toward the street, “I’ll just have to save the world again and maybe I’ll let you help,” a shrug lifted her jacket-covered shoulder and she offered, “’cause I’m nice like that.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I wanna die.” Faith lengthened her stride so that she was leading Buffy onto the street outside of the cemetery and continued with, “’sides I have my own badass villains to worry about.”
A slow nod accompanied Buffy’s statement of, “Yes, the Mayor of Sunnydale is the epitome of badassery.”
“No,” Faith contradicted, “that would be us.”
“We’re the epitome of badassery?” Buffy’s head cocked as she considered the thought before a slow smile spread her lips. “I kinda love that.”
“You, should. You came up with it,” with a snort and a quick glance from side to side, Faith crossed the deserted street, “I still can’t believe my big bad is the mayor.” She stepped up, onto the sidewalk and Buffy followed her as Faith groused, “You get kick ass villains to face off against and I get-”
“A big bad that has the entire city backing them.”
Buffy’s interruption stopped Faith mid-complaint and she inclined her head. “Huh,” brown eyes narrowed and she glanced to Buffy before raising her brows, “At least we’ve proved that politicians are, for a fact, evil.”
“Some,” she agreed with a quick nod, “Of course we could just shoot him. I mean he is human,” a line appeared between her brows, “Isn’t he?”
Faith shrugged and started moving again, leading them further from the cemetery and towards the more people friendly areas of Sunnydale before asking, “What’s with you and the guns?”
“I told you about the Colt,” Buffy caught Faith’s sharp nod and continued with, “Well what I didn’t tell you was that rock salt in gun shell casings and nasty spirits are unmixy things.”
Faith’s head pivoted toward her, “No way.”
“Yes, way,” Buffy nodded and they turned down Hillside Road, “I saw it on YouTube.” She let that sink in a moment before explaining, “There were all these how to videos on ghost hunting by the Ghost-Chasers,” she paused, frowned, “or was it Ghost-Facers?” Off Faith’s raised brows she rolled her eyes and refocused, “Whatever, that’s beside the point. Shotgun shells filled with rock salt work like a charm and, apparently, the Winchesters suck ass.”
“The who?”
Buffy shrugged. “Beats me, but the guys doing the videos seemed to have an abnormal amount of hate for them.”
They passed beneath a canopy of trees and Buffy tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket as a lull formed in their conversation and as she turned her head to ask Faith a vapid question to restart the flow of conversation Faith beat her to the punch and stated, “I still say a Slayer using guns is just weird.”
Reading behind that waspish statement, Buffy offered, “Want me to teach you?”
“God, yes,” Faith grinned, “So tell me more about this Colt.”
“Aside from the fact that it kicks demonic ass I don’t really know much.” Buffy hesitated, nearly stumbling as Faith suddenly crossed her path and headed into the trees surrounding them. “Where are we going?”
“Short cut,” was Faith’s only response and her brows rose as she retook her step and turned, following the brunette into the moonlight filled woods.
After only a few minutes Buffy noticed almost instantly that the trees were becoming sporadic and without much warning they fell away completely and the pair were dropped into neatly manicured lawns. The houses surrounding them were pristine, well-maintained monuments to normalcy that just did not belong in Sunnydale-nothing normal belonged in Sunnydale.
Faith’s thick-heeled boots cut through the damp grass and lead them past a few homes with the sounds of manufactured laughter falling from their open windows as the families that lived there enjoyed their time together and Buffy’s stomach rolled with the sound. Her stride faltering as she remembered the family she’d helped to destroy and her jaw thrust forward before she attempted to ignore the remorse blurring her vision. Her head bowed and she followed Faith, nearly plowing her over when she failed to notice the other Slayer had stopped and Buffy blinked back her tears as she looked up and stared in confusion at the park in front of them.
She spun, noted the semi-circle of homes surrounding them before she turned back to the metal and plastic construction standing before them and suddenly Faith was gone, making her way through the sand and past the monkey bars to claim a swing for herself. Buffy raised a brow as the brunette waved her over and she absently brushed away the dampness from her cheeks, grateful for the fact that Faith was ignoring her tears, and settled herself beside her sister in arms.
The tip of her boot nudged her back and brought a gentle sway to her swing as Faith grasped the metal chains sitting parallel to her and walked hers back several paces before settling her ass and lifting her legs. She passed Buffy with a woop of delight and snapped her legs back on the fall, leaning her chest forward and on her downward swing she ordered, “B, live a little.”
Blonde hair slipped forward to rest against her neck as Buffy bowed her head and followed Faith’s example. Walking her swing back several steps, she was suddenly grateful she hadn’t worn a skirt as she seated herself on the narrow plastic seat and lifted her legs. The sudden exhilaration as she swung forward pushed back the thoughts of the family haunting her and she bent her knees as she reached the pinnacle of her swing and began to fall backwards.
Her legs straightened, knees locking on her forward swing and she ignored the gritty feel of the sand she was kicking up when her boot heels scraped the indentation she was creating beneath her. A laugh tickled the back of her throat and Buffy smiled as she noticed she and Faith were on opposite cycles, one would fall as the other rose, and they shared a quick grin before both faced forward and continued to pump their feet in time with their pendulum-like swings.
A cloud eased its way across the moon and leached the color from the small park, throwing them into dappled shadows as the first of their laughter replaced the light. Filling this small pocket of normalcy with something very close to happiness and Buffy turned her head, gasping as she told Faith, “I can not tell you how much I needed this.”
Her only response was Faith’s smile of triumph and another lifting of her knees as her sister Slayer attempted to pull an ‘Inside Out Boy’ and make it over the bar. The snap of her chains the higher she got filled the sudden quiet left after their laughter and Buffy’s swings slowed, losing their momentum as reality set back in and the clouds darkening the sky thickened. When her swing came to a complete stop she rose and grasped the chains tighter, anchoring them as she straddled the narrow seat and made it easier for her to watch Faith.
She leaned back against one of the chains as she kept a firm grip on the other in front of her and after a few minutes the metal supports on the set began to shudder and groan and with a curse Faith’s swings slowed. The mass of tight brown curls Faith hair had started out the night in had become windblown and fell around her pale features in a loose mass that was more flattering then the previous style-not that Buffy was going to tell Faith that, since she liked her nose just the way it was, thanks very much.
Once the brunette’s swing had come to a complete stop she mirrored Buffy and straddled her swing so that they were sitting face to face. A hand reached forward, wrapping around the chain in front of Faith and she leaned into her arm as she gave Buffy a careful study before asking, voice uncertain, “Wanna talk?”
Her jaw clenched, nostrils flaring slightly as she looked past Faith and toward the homes and the families, the false comfort surrounding them and wanted so badly to confide, to just say something, anything. Faith interrupted her internal struggle with, “It’s alright if you don’t,” she paused and Buffy shifted her focus back to her, saw Faith’s bowed head and the toe of her boot digging in the sand, “I’m here when you do,” her shoulders stiffened, “If you do.”
“I wasn’t the Slayer.” Buffy averted her gaze, stared past Faith as the brunette’s head snapped back up and she felt her gaze on her as she clarified, “In hell. I wasn’t the Slayer. I wasn’t anything,” a tremble entered her voice and it grew quieter as she continued to focus anywhere, but on Faith, “I was weak. They made me weak and the things they did,” she paused, her tongue easing out to wet suddenly dry lips, “They ripped you apart and you felt it. Every cut of a blade. Every blow. Everything. You. Felt. It.”
She bit out the last sentence and the first stirrings of anger eased their way forward to thread in her voice as she continued unaware that she’d slipped into present tense, “They fuck with your head and they break you. They break you over and over,” a tear slipped past her lashes to fall down her cheek as the anger faded and she sagged, adding one last, “and over,” before falling quiet.
“Buffy.” She flinched with Faith’s hesitant utterance of her name, but turned her head and met her horrified gaze. There was a moment of silence as Faith searched her face before anger, for her, for what she had been through, replaced the horror and the brunette rose, offered Buffy her hand and stated, “Let’s go kick the shit outta something.”
She hadn’t told Faith everything, she’d barely told her a thimbleful, but it had been enough to loosen the tightness in her stomach a few degrees and she took the offered help. Buffy rose and gave Faith a tired smile before agreeing, “I like that plan.”
Faith linked her arm through Buffy’s and explained, “It’s not so much a plan, B, as a way of life.”
~*~
Mist had settled in the shallow valleys of Shady Hill Cemetery, saturating the grass and leaving a heavy chill to the morning air that brought a slight chatter to Buffy’s teeth. She clenched her jaw, pushing her next breath out through her nose and she ignored the way it fogged the air in front of her as she made her way through the temporary markers that had, for the time being, replaced the marble and granite tombstones her resurrection had destroyed. The trees toppled that day had been removed and the gapping holes filled with fresh soil and sod and in some areas saplings had been planted.
The soles of her boots crunched over the newly laid gravel walkway as she made her way deeper, retracing the path she’d taken as the sky paled from grey to lavender and the sun rose, breaking the horizon. Light spilled through the shrubbery acting as privacy walls between Shady Hill and the outside world as Buffy hesitated in her next step. Green eyes narrowed on the few markers still standing along the north side and she made her way closer, past a dank and hollowed out mausoleum, only half standing in the quickly fading twilight.
Several small walls of granite stood directly across from her and Buffy saw that the hole she’d crawled her way out of had been refilled and smoothed. The padded shoulders of her jacket hunched as she rolled them inward and her hands, warm and safe in the lined pockets of her coat, balled into fists and began to tremble with the urge to shatter the tactile reminder of her own death standing before her. A faint sound above her inclined Buffy’s head and she turned away from her grave, falling back a step and then another before looking skyward.
It grew in intensity and volume, vaguely reminding her of the sound paper made when shuffled and Buffy took another step backwards, gaze trained upward. Green eyes narrowed and then widened as the sound snapped into focus and she realized it was the clatter wings that were quickly joined by a soft chorus of bells as the sky above her brightened. The splash of blue across dark lavender paled to a vivid white that left her breathless and blinking. The light continued to grow in proximity and clarity, until it encompassed everything else and Buffy collapsed backwards, impacting the damp grass and falling deeper.
A spasm shook her body and the sense of falling evaporated as she awoke, frowning at the fact that her head was suddenly cushioned by her arms and she was staring down at a well polished tabletop. Her brows dipped, pulling together as she lifted her head, chin coming to rest on her forearms as she looked to the stack of books directly in front of her. Lashes dipping as her eyes narrowed on their text-less spines and she lifted her chin and raised her upper body, slowly taking in the fact that she was in the library of Sunnydale High School.
The corners of her mouth drew inward as she leaned back from the table, palms pressed to the edge as she glanced toward the double doors leading into the school. Her frown became more prominent as a small frame, blood pooled beneath them flickered in an out of existence and Buffy tried shake off the vague sense of confusion muddling her thoughts as she turned away from the phantom memory and stiffened, eyes widening at the sight of a prettier then most woman, not much older then herself, sitting across from her.
Buffy simply stared at her a moment, noticing how very red her hair looked against the pale green of her jacket and that she had a few too many buttons opened on her blouse. Pale hands were pressed, fingers spread wide, against the table between them and Buffy frowned at the peaceful posture and pose before the woman’s bottom-heavy mouth quirked and she offered, “Hello, Buffy.”
After a moment’s hesitation Buffy replied, “Hi.”
“I’m sorry.”
Buffy blinked, suddenly more confused then before and prompted, “For?”
“The cemetery,” she paused, dark brows dipping as Buffy remained wholly confused and she explained, “my arrival. I was certain you would be able to gaze upon me…” she trailed off, offered a somewhat feeble shrug, “I’m sorry.”
The chair Buffy was sitting in clattered backwards as she suddenly rose, her confusion gone as her memory of the cemetery and all that transpired moments before her arrival in the library came rushing back. She took several steps away from the table, the stranger, placing herself closer to the stairs leading up to the higher section of the library and the weapons cabinet before she stiffened, understanding completely dawning as she stated, “I’m unconscious.”
A pinched look briefly flickered across the redhead’s features before she rose and reiterated, “I am sorry.”
“Right,” Buffy’s arms rose, crossing beneath her breasts as she shot her a considering look, “what else are you?”
“You don’t know?”
Buffy frowned at the raising of her dark brows and sighed. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she took another step closer and Buffy tensed, she paused and offered, “I’m Anna.”
The blonde shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, swaying back with the movement as she prompted, “Well, Anna,” there was a slight pause after the name before Buffy finished, “what can I do you for?”
Another half smile lifted the angel’s mouth. “I wanted to meet you. Talk with you.”
“About?” Buffy frowned at her second one word question in less then a minute.
“I wanted to offer you my help.”
“Why?” There went another one-eloquent she currently was not. Buffy uncrossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders as she took a small step forward and clarified, “Aren’t you already helping me?”
Anna moved toward her, but paused when Buffy flinched back. “I’m different from the others you’ve met.”
“Different? Different how?” Buffy frowned and offered, “Well you’re not as rude as Uriel.”
“Few are.”
Her dry response had Buffy’s eyes widening and she added, “And you might have a sense of humor.”
Anna’s smile spread and then vanished as if it had never been, her head inclining and gaze growing unfocused a moment before her chin lifted and her green eyes locked with Buffy’s. “I have to go, but before I do,” she took another step closer, “do you want my help?”
“Wait, now wait just a damn minute,” Buffy snapped and then glared at the angel, “You come outta nowhere and then just as suddenly you want to leave? What the hell?”
“I’m not like the others and I don’t have time to explain how and why that is,” Anna was simply in front of Buffy and the blonde stiffened, nearly falling in her attempt to back away as the angel caught the crook of her right arm and continued with, “I’m exposed at the moment, but I want to help you.”
“I don’t know you! How can I trust you?”
“How can you trust Castiel?”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What is that suppose to mean?”
“Do you know his orders?” Anna took another step, invading Buffy’s personal space and the tight grip on her arm held the blonde immobile as she asked, “Where they come from?”
“Heaven.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Castiel is one of the good guys.”
Buffy swallowed, mouth falling into a thin line as she stared mutinously up at Anna whose voice softened as she agreed, “Castiel is one of the few that I would trust,” she paused before adding, “within reason.” Her gaze searched Buffy’s once more before she sighed and stated, “I wanted your permission, but I don’t need it.”
Warmth enveloped the bend of her right arm and Buffy’s eyes widened as that warmth seeped through her coat and sweater to sear her flesh. She gasped, falling to her knees as the pain radiated up her arm and into her shoulder. Buffy ground her teeth together as Anna gazed down at her, brow drawn low as she offered, voice tired, “I really am sorry,” and then the pain continued upward, cording the muscles in Buffy’s neck.
It struck her head, her mind as a white hot rush of agony that bowed Buffy’s spine and she collapsed backwards as another spasm racked her slim frame. She awoke in the damp grass, blinking up at the pale blue sky and pushed back the disorientation of yet another reality shift. Her elbows dug into the damp grass beneath her and she eased herself up slowly, careful to keep her head as steady as feasibly possible while it continue to throb in time with her irregular and frantic heartbeat.
When the power-bar she’d snagged from Dormer’s pantry remained in her stomach Buffy risked putting palm to ground as she rose on shaky legs. Wincing slightly when the bend of her elbow protested the extra weight and she ignored it, for the moment, to focus on getting out of Shady Hill Cemetery and to the false safety of her car. Tucking her right arm close to her body she moved swiftly and silently back through the temporary markers and mist, wishing silently the sun had risen high enough to beat at her back and chase away the chill settling deep.
She passed the tall wall of vines and shrubs acting as the not so stable wall of the cemetery and used her left hand to flip back her coat and reach into her right pocket for her car keys. Nimble fingers snagged the cold key ring and dragged them free as she slow-jogged the rest of the way to her Civic and after only a few fumbling tries the driver’s side door was open and she was behind the wheel. Buffy jabbed the lock with her thumb, locking the door and sat back, staring blankly out the windshield toward the empty street and the just waking up neighborhood beyond it.
Transferring her keys to her right hand she ground her teeth together as she stretched out her arm and forced herself to turn on her car. The engine purred to life and she quickly flipped the air-conditioning on and turned the dial to red while whispering to her car’s engine, “Come on, baby, warm up,” before giving the dash a reassuring pat of encouragement with her left hand.
The sharp stinging in her right arm was quickly fading to a dull throb and she wasn’t entirely sure which hurt more at the moment, her head or her arm, but both were being complete and utter bitches. Letting her head fall back to rest against the back of her seat, she closed her eyes a moment, focusing instead on her breathing and waited for the car to heat up enough so that she could remove her jacket in relative comfort. A few minutes of silence passed in which her heartbeat slowed to a more natural rhythm and the interior of her car became less frigid then the outside world and Buffy finally opened her eyes.
Sunlight had come to spill across the dash of her car and she smiled with the fact that her head felt a little less heavy as she leaned forward and began to unbutton her coat. The plaid peacoat she’d worn to see Cordelia the day before was peeled away from her front and she shrugged her shoulders out of it, before freeing her left arm and using it to free her right. The throb at the bend of her elbow intensified with the added movement as she struggled to push the coat sleeve down and off without aggravating it further.
Tension tightened her shoulders and jaw, until she breathed a sigh of relief when the coat fell to rest in the seat next to her and her right arm was free. Buffy flexed the fingers of her right hand, feeling only a slight twinge when she moved them before beginning to gently pull up her sweater’s sleeve. The tension in her jaw forced her to thrust it forward as the soft fabric was dragged against her skin and reminded her more of sandpaper then spun wool.
She shoved it up the rest of the way and then paused, green eyes widening at sight of the raised and welted skin, barely the size of a quarter, sitting between the bend of her arm and the slightly protruding bone of her elbow. Buffy frowned at the marking and winced as she straightened her arm, flattening the raised edges of the welt so that she could see it in stark red contrast to her pale skin. It was slightly off center, sitting closer to the tender skin on the inside of the bend of her arm and the circular shape and odd markings in the center made her guess it was Anna’s mark-just like the handprint was Castiel’s.
“Son of a bitch,” Buffy snarled to no one in particular before shaking her sweater back down and over her soon to be newest scar.
Leaning forward she snagged her cell out of the cup holder nearest to her and sent a quick text to Faith and Willow, before turning and tugging her seatbelt over and on. The downward shove of her hand made a satisfying click as the seatbelt locked and she pressed down on the brake before putting the car in drive and placing her cell back in the cup holder. She’d planned on making one more visit to Cordelia, but she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with involving her friends-especially the wounded-with all the celestial beings and what not. The Civic pulled away from the curb and she led it away from Shady Hill Cemetery and toward one of the main roads leading out of Sunnydale.
At the first stop sign she flipped the visor down and unhooked her sunglasses from it before placing the square frames over her eyes just as the sun was becoming glaring. She eased the car forward, into the early morning traffic and welcomed the quiet that accompanied her to the city limits. Relaxing into her seat and silently debating between simply heading to Primrose’s or taking a picture of this new development, it took Buffy a moment to realize she had a passenger.
The Civic swerved, cutting across to the next lane of traffic and then back into her own as Buffy shot Castiel a glare and groused, “Polite people announce themselves.”
He remained focused on the world outside the windshield for a long moment before his head turned, slow and precise, toward her. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you just make a funny?” She paused before adding, “Did it hurt?”
The trench coat that draped his lean frame crinkled with his slight shift, as if he were human and uneasy, in the seat before he stated, “I thought perhaps,” Castiel paused, again as if he were unsure, before continuing with, “you would welcome some company for a short while.”
Her brows rose sharply towards her hairline, hands tensing against the steering wheel and that involuntary movement brought with it a searing pain as Anna’s mark made itself known to her once more. Buffy frowned, glancing down at the burn hidden by her sweater before a pointed chin dropped in agreement and she asked, “Am I heading anywhere in particular?”
“Creedmoor, Texas.”
“Wow, an actual city and state,” she glanced at him briefly, “I’m impressed, Castiel.” Her smile spread with his silence and she reached out, adjusting her visor as she merged the Civic with the rushing traffic on the highway and waited until they were in they were safely in the middle lane before asking, almost hopeful he would reply, “What’s in Creedmoor?”
Castiel remained facing forward as he spoke, voice soft and grave, “A very special, very important rosary.”
“So the Catholics got it right?”
She felt, more then saw, Castiel turn to gaze at her as he stated, “The rosary is a symbol of faith as is the Star of David.”
“So you’re not giving an inch?” When he failed to reply Buffy rolled her eyes and refocused, “What do you need this rosary for?”
“I do not.”
“Then why are we going to get it?”
“The rosary belonged to a priest who achieved Sainthood.” Castiel paused in his explanation and returned to facing forward before explaining, “That type of faith, devotion carries power. It carries protection. We are obtaining this rosary for you.”
“Oh.” Buffy contemplated the perfect reply before settling on, “cool beans.”
The end.