(no subject)
The door opens, as Dream promised, on a large, stately room, the size of an auditorium, which is full of people. When she steps through the door and into their midst, they fall silent, and Faith looks around the room, smiling faintly as she sees the astonished faces of Giles, Xander and Andrew among them.
“Hi, guys,” she says, quietly. “Sorry I’m late.”
***
It takes a while to convince them she’s real, alive, and not some magically reanimated zombie-type. When that’s established, the interview starts, and for the next nearly three hours, she recounts, in some detail, her experience in the Hellmouth, glossing over the torture and leaving Wes-the-demon out entirely. When she’s done, Andrew looks like he may burst into tears, Xander looks faintly ill, and the Watchers are staring at her with varying degrees of shock, horror, sympathy and awe.
“Miss Lehane…that is truly a remarkable story,” one of the older ones says, quietly. “To single-handedly free yourself from a Hellmouth is phenomenal. I salute you.”
“Thank you,” Faith says, quietly, “Mister…”
“Wyndham-Pryce. Roger Wyndham-Pryce. Wesley’s father,” he says, smiling faintly at her startled reaction. “Wesley told me that you were a phenomenal young woman. I can see he was right.”
Faith smiles, faintly. “Wes said that about me? That’s really nice. Where is he? Still in L.A. with Angel?”
The room goes silent, and one of the Watchers she doesn’t know gives Wes’ father an apologetic look before clearing his throat. “Not exactly, Miss Lehane. You see, it…well, it’s been over two years, and a lot has happened since you fell into the Hellmouth.”
Faith blinks at him. “Well, yeah, figured that. They relocated or something?”
“No, Faith,” Giles says, quietly, gently. “They…they passed away.”
“…what?” Faith swallows, shaking her head, even as she feels the blood start to drain from her face. “No…”
One of the other Watchers nods, somberly. “Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Cordelia Chase, Charles Gunn, Winifred Burkle, and the vampires known as Angel and Spike were killed while…”
Faith’s knees go out from under her, and she hits the floor, turning white with shock. The rest of the sentence, whatever it is, doesn’t even register. Wes. Cordy. Gunn. Fred. Spike. Angel. Oh god. Oh, god, no, not…not…
“Angel,” she breathes, and tears fill her eyes as she shakes her head.
She’s aware it makes her look weak.
She doesn’t care.
Angel was her friend, cared about her, came to visit her in prison when nobody else did. Angel laughed at her crass jokes, Angel…Angel is…
Angel is at Milliways.
Angel is at Milliways, alive, from his past, and she can’t tell him what’s going to happen.
Fred too, and…
Illyria.
Illyria, who took Fred’s body…killed Fred, in a way…if Fred was gone but Illyria wasn’t…
She swallows, hard, forcing herself to calm, and raises her head to look at Giles. “How did they…die?” she manages, her voice low and rough.
Giles tells her, briefly, quietly, sympathetically, and Faith listens, her expression going utterly blank, as that last small hope is doused completely. When he’s done, she stands up, slowly. “Thank you for telling me,” she says, quietly. “Mister Wyndham-Pryce…I’m very sorry for your loss. Wesley was…he deserved better than having me as his Slayer.”
She turns, then, without another word, her hand slipping to her pocket, pulling out the badge Tim gave her and walking to the door.
“Hi, guys,” she says, quietly. “Sorry I’m late.”
***
It takes a while to convince them she’s real, alive, and not some magically reanimated zombie-type. When that’s established, the interview starts, and for the next nearly three hours, she recounts, in some detail, her experience in the Hellmouth, glossing over the torture and leaving Wes-the-demon out entirely. When she’s done, Andrew looks like he may burst into tears, Xander looks faintly ill, and the Watchers are staring at her with varying degrees of shock, horror, sympathy and awe.
“Miss Lehane…that is truly a remarkable story,” one of the older ones says, quietly. “To single-handedly free yourself from a Hellmouth is phenomenal. I salute you.”
“Thank you,” Faith says, quietly, “Mister…”
“Wyndham-Pryce. Roger Wyndham-Pryce. Wesley’s father,” he says, smiling faintly at her startled reaction. “Wesley told me that you were a phenomenal young woman. I can see he was right.”
Faith smiles, faintly. “Wes said that about me? That’s really nice. Where is he? Still in L.A. with Angel?”
The room goes silent, and one of the Watchers she doesn’t know gives Wes’ father an apologetic look before clearing his throat. “Not exactly, Miss Lehane. You see, it…well, it’s been over two years, and a lot has happened since you fell into the Hellmouth.”
Faith blinks at him. “Well, yeah, figured that. They relocated or something?”
“No, Faith,” Giles says, quietly, gently. “They…they passed away.”
“…what?” Faith swallows, shaking her head, even as she feels the blood start to drain from her face. “No…”
One of the other Watchers nods, somberly. “Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Cordelia Chase, Charles Gunn, Winifred Burkle, and the vampires known as Angel and Spike were killed while…”
Faith’s knees go out from under her, and she hits the floor, turning white with shock. The rest of the sentence, whatever it is, doesn’t even register. Wes. Cordy. Gunn. Fred. Spike. Angel. Oh god. Oh, god, no, not…not…
“Angel,” she breathes, and tears fill her eyes as she shakes her head.
She’s aware it makes her look weak.
She doesn’t care.
Angel was her friend, cared about her, came to visit her in prison when nobody else did. Angel laughed at her crass jokes, Angel…Angel is…
Angel is at Milliways.
Angel is at Milliways, alive, from his past, and she can’t tell him what’s going to happen.
Fred too, and…
Illyria.
Illyria, who took Fred’s body…killed Fred, in a way…if Fred was gone but Illyria wasn’t…
She swallows, hard, forcing herself to calm, and raises her head to look at Giles. “How did they…die?” she manages, her voice low and rough.
Giles tells her, briefly, quietly, sympathetically, and Faith listens, her expression going utterly blank, as that last small hope is doused completely. When he’s done, she stands up, slowly. “Thank you for telling me,” she says, quietly. “Mister Wyndham-Pryce…I’m very sorry for your loss. Wesley was…he deserved better than having me as his Slayer.”
She turns, then, without another word, her hand slipping to her pocket, pulling out the badge Tim gave her and walking to the door.