(Untitled)

Dec 18, 2004 09:35

I remember hearing voices coming from far away. I know one of them was Buffy and I think the other one was Angel. Or Angelus rather. Did I recognize Faith? That can't be, she's supposed to be at the Summers house, making sure the rest was alright. Taken care off. Safe. Right? I probably imagined things. Just...so tired. So very tired, to tired to ( Read more... )

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prodigal_slayer December 18 2004, 08:29:16 UTC
I was practically panting as I finally came to a stop in front of the Summers house. I was a slayer, but I was an out of shape slayer, what was more than that was it was a long ass run from Angelus's crib back to the house. When I stopped I sucked in a mouthful of air before trailing my eyes to the front porch where a crumpled figure lay ( ... )

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_wes_pryce_ December 18 2004, 08:46:53 UTC
There's a familiar voice. Frowning I try to pry my eyes open, only to shut them again quickly when a bright light shines into my eyes. "Bloody hell." Good lord, my voice sounds as it did just after Justine slashed my throat. That can't be good.

Groaning, I manage to roll over to my side and try to open my eyes again. There's someone shaking me, and that familiar voice again. "Faith?" That's Faith. See? I'd been hallucinating when I thought she was with my at where ever Buffy took me. And Angelus as well must've been my imagination.

"I dreamed about you," I tell her seriously. Swallowing hard, I wince, the coppery taste of blood still present in my mouth. Again, very familiar. How annoying. "Hospital? Oh no, I'm fine. I just...just need to...to get up." No sleep for me I think, I need to get up. Letting out a small hiss when I move my leg, I let my head fall to the side and squint back at Faith. "Why are there two of you?" Alright, maybe the hospital is a good idea. For once.

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prodigal_slayer December 18 2004, 08:56:10 UTC
Finding his keys I pulled my hand out of his pocket and then froze for a second as he suddenly declared that he dreamed of me. Maybe he'd dreamed of me after Buffy almost tortured him to death. Would be kind of fitting, wouldn't it? After all, I was sure he remembered what I'd done to him. How I'd loved every minute, delighted in every little hiss of pain, every drop of blood spilled. Looking away for a second, I knew I had to keep cool or Wes was toast ( ... )

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_wes_pryce_ December 18 2004, 09:14:58 UTC
Wincing, I try to lift up my head as I can hear something crash. Where am I? Wait, I know this ceiling, it's my car's. How did I get here? Oh right, Faith. Bloody hell, if I'm looking up at the ceiling, that would mean that she's driving.

"Please don't hurt the car too much," I mutter. I doubt she can actually hear me over the screeching of those tires. Mentally I add new tires to the list of thing to get to for my car. I think by the time we get to the sodding hospital it'll be as long as my leg. "I'm keeping this from your pocket money."

The lights are flying past the window so fast it's making me nausea. Closing my eyes, I try not to listen when she hits another...thing. Dear lord, I hope that cat got away. From the screaming I think it did. Finally, after she hits a few more things, she hits the breaks. Hard. I nearly roll on the floor of the car. Hissing, I open my eyes again and blink at her. "Please tell me we're there? Lie to me if you have to."

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