"I won't. Sorry." Faith murmured. It wasn't his fault. Hell, none of this was. She was just riding the guy 'cause he happened to be the first one on the scene.
She probably would've picked a fight with Buffy if she'd been first out the damn door and she was pretty much the reason Faith'd headed back.
She blurted out Red's death with about as much sugar-coating as she knew how to put on it. What else could she say, exactly? There was no making this better. Sam didn't look shocked. Just sorta frowned and met it with a quiet acceptance that left Faith hoping it was gonna be as clear-cut as this inside.
If they'd just put two and two together and spare her from actually saying the words. "I look like shit. Maybe she'll just know too, right? I mean, I mightn't have to... Y'know." Funny how she was dreading this more than putting the shotgun in her mouth.
"She might take it better coming from you," Faith tried, but even as she said it, she knew it was ridiculous. Buffy wasn't going to take this better coming from anyone, especially not Sam. Hell, at least if it came from her, Buffy'd have someone to hit.
"Let's go," she sighed, starting off towards the house.
Sam blinked at her caue that was just wishful thinking. "Honestly, if she sees you by yourself.... I mean, there's only one place this story can go. I'm just sorry it has to go there."
She seemed to think on that for a second before a small frown crossed her lips, a look of defeat.
Let's go.
He held out a hand to stop her momentarily, his hand grazing her shoulder, fingers finding sticky blood on fabric. "You sure you're okay?"
Sam was right. She didn't want him to be, was just as sorry too - but he was right. B was gonna take one look at her and just know.
They'd been twelve when they'd left earlier; convinced they'd be back home and fighting over the few magazines that were left.
Faith had actually called a time-out in the truck, telling Vi that she'd come back there and end her if she touched Ellen's shotgun just one more time... The full time, she'd been wondering if this was what it'd been like for Buffy and Dawn, only--Well, over something more normal like clothes or whatever.
She nodded, starting towards the house when Sam's hand grazed her shoulder. You sure you're okay?
Faith looked back at him, then down at his hand at her shoulder, her mouth setting in a grim, determined line. "You really want me to answer that, Winchester? Or you want me to lie?"
You really want me to answer that, Winchester? Or you want me to lie?
Sam frowned, his hand dropping away from her shoulder in response. He'd learned long ago that dealing with Faith was like dealing with his brother. They both kept crap bottled up, hid true emotions that didn't revolve around rage or ecstasy.
She wasn't okay. He knew, she knew it, and just like Dean, she didn't want to admit it aloud. She would rather let her actions speak for her, but for once, Sam wanted to hear it with his own ears.
He was tired of people, himself included, living in lies.
Faith laughed but it was short, humorless. She was taking her life into her own hands here because as easily as Sam was standing beside her; once she did this, he could just as easily pull a gun on her - and Faith wasn't honestly sure she'd stop him.
"No lies," she nodded, and turned so that her back was to the farmhouse, setting down the shotgun for a second before pulling up her sleeve and the makeshift bandage she'd covered her arm with.
The bite looked red, angry. The cool night air did nothing to soothe the itch and when Sam's eyes widened, Faith nodded. "By the time I fought it off, they were all dead. Red, Vi, everyone. I figured I owed it to B to let her know what happened. Once I'm done? I'm gone," she shrugged, pulling her sleeve back down and taking the shotgun back in her hand again, "Got one bullet left. And nobody else gets to know, Sam. I mean it," she looked up at him, her jaw set.
He wasn't sure what was going on when Faith put down the rifle, but then she rolled up her sleeve, exposing a makeshift bandage that had obviously been wrapped on in a hurry.
And then she lifted the bandage.
Sam felt his heart hit his stomach as he slowly wiped a hand across his mouth. He knew she hadn't been okay, but this.... But this had never even factored into his plans.
He shook his head slowly, tryin to find words. "Faith...."
She cut him off with an explanation, and every gut instinct, every piece of hunter in him wanted to reach for his gun. But he coudln't. Not with Faith. He couldn't put a bullet in her, but it didn't matter because Faith already had a plan apparently.
Got one bullet left. And nobody else gets to know, Sam. I mean it.
"Faith, there has to be another...." he paused with a determined shake of his head. "We'll find a cure for this."
She cut him off. Had to. Because the look on Sam's face, everything in him, said that he'd try to make this okay. And this time, there wasn't a fix-all. There wasn't intervention from a vampire and her going to jail for a few months to make this okay again.
This was over. As soon as she'd seen B, grabbed herself a bottle of Jacks and hotfooted it out of there, this was over. Done. Ended.
Faith, there has to be another... We'll find a cure for this.
"A cure?" Faith snorted, softly. "Sam, c'mon. This is it for me. You really want to chain me up until I'm snappin' and fucking snarling like some dog at anyone who comes near me? You really think I wanna go out like that?"
She shook her head, "I killed a whole lot of people when I knew what I was doing to know that I don't wanna go down the same route when I don't. I don't wanna be some zombie's bitch. And I don't want someone else to have to make the decision to put me down - I go out on my terms, nobody else's. You tell me you understand that and we walk in there like I'm fine, you hear?"
He knew she had a point. They weren't likely to find a cure before she turned, and once she did? A zombie with Slayer strength wasn't exactly something he wanted to test out.
He wished there was another way, any other way that didn't involve Faith tasting the metal of Ellen's shotgun. She didn't want to go out like a rabid dog, and he didn't want her to go out that way. He bit his tongue to keep from telling her that because it would do no good.
She'd probably just roll her eyes at him, make some snarky remark about him and Buffy having a "saving people" thing, and that would be it. The story would still end the same.
With Faith alone in a truck, her own death a bullet away.
You tell me you understand that and we walk in there like I'm fine, you hear?
"I don't like this at all," he finally said with a frown, "but I understand."
And he did. he understood cause in his gut, he had to admit that he would make the same choice as Faith if he was in her shoes. Luckily though it wasn't his situation, his choice, yet.
"I won't tell them, but...."
And how do you say goodbye to someone you know won't be there in a few minutes?
He laughed dryly, a weak smile on his lips. "Well, at least I got risen from the dead in time to see you again."
"I don't like this either, Winchester, but it's all I got," said Faith, relieved he hadn't given her the speech. About how she deserved to be saved. About how she'd done enough, pushed the books back into the black...
She didn't deserve to go out like this. She didn't damn well want to go out like this but she'd be damned if she let some zombie make her its brain-eating, slobbering bitch. Fuck no.
Well, at least I got risen from the dead in time to see you again.
The corners of Faith's lips tugged upwards. "They say timing is everything, Dead Boy. Don't suppose your brother is around too? I wouldn't mind revisiting that before I bite the big one..." said Faith, smirking at his pained look. "Now that boy had some moves..."
The sound of a door slamming round the back of the house had Faith remembering what she was about to do here and she nodded at Sam. "C'mon. I don't got a lot of time left."
Sam made a disgruntled face as Faith brought up Dean, trying to ignore the visuals that were unfortunately creeping into his head. He shook off those unplesant thoughts as the sound of the backdoor swinging shut brought them both back to their unfortunate reality.
C'mon. I don't got a lot of time left.
He didn't argue as she slowly started towards the house, and Sam could see her grip on her shotgun tightening with each step. As they finally reached the steps, he stopped her with another touch to her shoulder and when she turned to him, he couldn't fight the frown on his lips.
"Hey," he said quietly as not to alert the others just yet. "I don't want you leaving here feeling guilty, okay? Promise me you won't cause I know that you did everything that you could. Don't blame yourself for anything. You gotta promise me that, okay?"
He paused with a slow exhale of breath. "I didn't get a lot of time to know you as well as I could have, but.... I'll miss you regardless. You've been a good ally and friend."
He offered up his free hand, his frown slowly becoming a smile. "I'd hug you but you might punch me." He raised an eyebrow. "Or grope me."
The walk towards the house was damn slow and agonizing. It wasn't that Faith didn't want to go in - she had to do this. It was wondering what she'd say when she got there. Knowing that B was expecting her to show up with eleven girls... And not showing up with one that was the kicker.
Her grip tight on the shotgun, Faith got to the foot of the stairs and felt Sam's hand at her shoulder.
I don't want you leaving here feeling guilty, okay? Promise me you won't cause I know that you did everything that you could. Don't blame yourself for anything. You gotta promise me that, okay?
Faith thought about that for a second, nodded. "I promise." Because other than kill all those who'd killed her allies - her friends - what more could she have done? Water under the bridge now, she figured.
And then he came out with about the best eulogy Faith could ever hope for and she stared at him, strangely touched by a guy she'd only met a handful of times; a guy she'd found ever-so-slightly annoying at his most sickeningly sweet with B.
I'd hug you but you might punch me. Or grope me.
"Definitely the latter," she nodded, reaching out and clasping his hand in hers, holding it there for just a moment. She cleared her throat, turning back towards the door and climbing up the steps, her heart heavy. She was comforted slightly, by the fact that Sam knew what was going on. That he could maybe explain to B, once everything had gone down.
They stepped inside, Faith holding the door for Sam, and when they headed into the living room it was Buffy who was first off her seat, Buffy who took a step towards her, searching behind her for Willow and the others and finding Sam.
"B," Faith started, but her voice wavered and she clenched her fists hard. "I did everything I could." And for the first time - at probably the worst time - Faith actually believed it.
Buffy stared back and forth between them. Faith, looking like hell - literally - Sam not fairing much better, though he was sans-blood. And it registered. It registered that there weren't Slayers trooping in behind her. No Willow, filling awkward silences with babbling.
The silence stretched until realization hit the small number of girls gathered in the room and a couple of them started crying. "Girls. Upstairs, now."
The few Slayers in Training that were left in the room got out quickly, leaving only Sam, Faith and Buffy.
"I tried everything, B," Faith started again, "I'm--"
"You say you're sorry and I will beat you to death," Buffy whispered, turning and walking quickly out of the room. She couldn't. She could not do this. Not Willow. Not Willow who'd promised her on the phone that morning that their supply run was totally safe.
Not Willow who'd been there every day since the day she'd got to Sunnydale. Not Willow who'd moved in and looked after Dawn while she'd been dead, gone and--Fuck. Fuck.
Her hand went through the wall as easy as if it were made of paper and Buffy reached up, grabbed the first aid kit from the top shelf.
She had to go back. Help Faith. Tell her that she knew she'd done everything but sorry was a hard word to stomach when your best friend was dead and Buffy leant down and threw up, right there in Bobby's kitchen.
"I know," she said quietly, when she went back a moment later. "I know you did everything you could. I just--I can't hear sorry. Sorry means she's--I can't--Here. I'll help."
Faith's throat worked and she looked away from Buffy, shaking her head. "Not my blood, B. Not all of it. Nothin' a shower won't fix, anyway." She turned slightly, nodding at Sam. That's your cue, Dead Boy.
Sam walked into the house behind Faith, watching as her steps became more deliberate, like she was forcing herself to even go inside. Buffy saw them first, jumping from her seat in anticipation. She looked between the two of them, and Sam could see the realization wash across her face.
He wanted to save Faith the pain of telling Buffy about what had happened, but before he could even get the words out, Faith told Buffy that there was nothing she could do.
You say you're sorry and I will beat you to death.
Sam watched Faith flinch at those words, but before he could even try to calm Buffy down, she had walked away. He gave Faith an apologetic look. They'd all lost a lot tonight, and unfortunately for Faith, it was easy to take that grief out on her.
He tossed the duffel bag on the couch and started after Buffy, but she returned as quickly as she had left. She carried a first aid kit, the knuckles on her right hand were scraped and bloody, and she had the look of someone who was fighting hard to keep down their lunch.
She gave as best of an apology she could considering everything, even offering to help Faith patch herself up.
Not my blood, B. Not all of it. Nothin' a shower won't fix, anyway.
Faith looked at him, and he knew this was his cue. It was his turn to distract Buffy so that Faith could do the deed both of them were dreading.
"Let her get cleaned up first," Sam offered Buffy before slowly removing the first aid kit from her hands. He frowned a bit as he took hold of her bloody hand, inspecting it. "You put your fist through a wall, didn't you?" he asked with a knowing tone. "I'll patch you up while Faith gets cleaned up."
He moved between the girls, placing a hand at the small of Buffy's back to lead her into the kitchen. He glanced back at Faith who continued to stand in the middle of the floor, shotgun clenched in her hand.
He gave her a small smile and a nod, the only goodbye he could offer up right now, and he hoped she understood the gesture.
He took the lead easily and Faith had to admit that Sam was a better actor than she'd previously given him credit for. Buffy seemed accustomed to it, maybe. Let him take the lead, even though getting herself patched up clearly wasn't what she wanted to be doing right now.
She looked pale, sweaty; kinda like herself, Faith guessed, though she knew Buffy wasn't sporting a zombie bite anywhere on her person right now.
You put your fist through a wall, didn't you?
Faith watched as Buffy nodded, not even speaking, considering growth on a grandiose scale that B hadn't put her first through her at the news she'd just delivered.
"B? Buffy?" Faith waited until the other girl had turned back, met her gaze. "Thanks. For saying that. What you did I mean."
Buffy's face clouded with something very like guilt and she winced. "What, threatening to beat you to death?" She wasn't having such luck on the placating front these days, preferring more to put her damn foot in her mouth at every opportunity. "I didn't mean that. I'm- I'm sorry."
Faith nodded, kinda shocked, gave a small smile. "I know. I meant the other. Means a lot, y'know? Coming from you."
I'll patch you up while Faith gets cleaned up.
Buffy nodded, shooting a quick glance back at Faith, knowing damn fine that whatever'd happened out there was eating her alive. "You sure you're alright?"
Faith gave a small smile, a pointed glance at Sam. "Five by five."
"We'll talk later, alright?" Buffy still wasn't convinced. "Once you're cleaned up?"
"Count on it," Faith nodded again, thankful for Sam's intervention, the ease with which he'd taken Buffy's focus away from her. She wasn't honestly sure how much longer she could've held out under B's gaze - she was no damn idiot and Sam had figured most of it out within a few minutes. Faith had simply confirmed the rest.
She gave him a small smile as he led Buffy away, convinced still that she was doing the right thing. My death, my terms, thought Faith and turned, letting the door shut behind her quietly on her way out of the farmhouse.
She'd been right with what she'd told Sam and when she hopped up into the truck, she took one last glance at the house. The lights in the rooms that held way more girls than should be natural, the one in Ellen's - the woman who'd given Faith her shotgun and damn well ordered her to bring herself back in one piece.
Faith had, more or less, but Ellen wasn't likely to be getting her shotgun back the way she thought. She started up the engine and backed out of the drive, heading west. She drove for forty-five minutes, doubling back on herself twice so that if they, for whatever reason, decided they'd come look for her and followed her tyre tracks, it'd take them a hell of a long time to find her.
When she stopped, the flesh on her arm felt like it was bubbling. She opened the compartment in her loaned truck as she had earlier, finding the flask of whiskey, thanking whatever God was out there for the wonder that was Bobby, and unscrewed the top.
One drink, a slow burn, and Faith lifted the shotgun, wedging it between herself and the seat.
She probably would've picked a fight with Buffy if she'd been first out the damn door and she was pretty much the reason Faith'd headed back.
She blurted out Red's death with about as much sugar-coating as she knew how to put on it. What else could she say, exactly? There was no making this better. Sam didn't look shocked. Just sorta frowned and met it with a quiet acceptance that left Faith hoping it was gonna be as clear-cut as this inside.
If they'd just put two and two together and spare her from actually saying the words. "I look like shit. Maybe she'll just know too, right? I mean, I mightn't have to... Y'know." Funny how she was dreading this more than putting the shotgun in her mouth.
"She might take it better coming from you," Faith tried, but even as she said it, she knew it was ridiculous. Buffy wasn't going to take this better coming from anyone, especially not Sam. Hell, at least if it came from her, Buffy'd have someone to hit.
"Let's go," she sighed, starting off towards the house.
Reply
Sam blinked at her caue that was just wishful thinking. "Honestly, if she sees you by yourself.... I mean, there's only one place this story can go. I'm just sorry it has to go there."
She seemed to think on that for a second before a small frown crossed her lips, a look of defeat.
Let's go.
He held out a hand to stop her momentarily, his hand grazing her shoulder, fingers finding sticky blood on fabric. "You sure you're okay?"
Reply
Sam was right. She didn't want him to be, was just as sorry too - but he was right. B was gonna take one look at her and just know.
They'd been twelve when they'd left earlier; convinced they'd be back home and fighting over the few magazines that were left.
Faith had actually called a time-out in the truck, telling Vi that she'd come back there and end her if she touched Ellen's shotgun just one more time... The full time, she'd been wondering if this was what it'd been like for Buffy and Dawn, only--Well, over something more normal like clothes or whatever.
She nodded, starting towards the house when Sam's hand grazed her shoulder. You sure you're okay?
Faith looked back at him, then down at his hand at her shoulder, her mouth setting in a grim, determined line. "You really want me to answer that, Winchester? Or you want me to lie?"
Reply
Sam frowned, his hand dropping away from her shoulder in response. He'd learned long ago that dealing with Faith was like dealing with his brother. They both kept crap bottled up, hid true emotions that didn't revolve around rage or ecstasy.
She wasn't okay. He knew, she knew it, and just like Dean, she didn't want to admit it aloud. She would rather let her actions speak for her, but for once, Sam wanted to hear it with his own ears.
He was tired of people, himself included, living in lies.
"No lies, Faith," he finally said.
Reply
Faith laughed but it was short, humorless. She was taking her life into her own hands here because as easily as Sam was standing beside her; once she did this, he could just as easily pull a gun on her - and Faith wasn't honestly sure she'd stop him.
"No lies," she nodded, and turned so that her back was to the farmhouse, setting down the shotgun for a second before pulling up her sleeve and the makeshift bandage she'd covered her arm with.
The bite looked red, angry. The cool night air did nothing to soothe the itch and when Sam's eyes widened, Faith nodded. "By the time I fought it off, they were all dead. Red, Vi, everyone. I figured I owed it to B to let her know what happened. Once I'm done? I'm gone," she shrugged, pulling her sleeve back down and taking the shotgun back in her hand again, "Got one bullet left. And nobody else gets to know, Sam. I mean it," she looked up at him, her jaw set.
Reply
And then she lifted the bandage.
Sam felt his heart hit his stomach as he slowly wiped a hand across his mouth. He knew she hadn't been okay, but this.... But this had never even factored into his plans.
He shook his head slowly, tryin to find words. "Faith...."
She cut him off with an explanation, and every gut instinct, every piece of hunter in him wanted to reach for his gun. But he coudln't. Not with Faith. He couldn't put a bullet in her, but it didn't matter because Faith already had a plan apparently.
Got one bullet left. And nobody else gets to know, Sam. I mean it.
"Faith, there has to be another...." he paused with a determined shake of his head. "We'll find a cure for this."
He just had to hope she lived until then....
Reply
She cut him off. Had to. Because the look on Sam's face, everything in him, said that he'd try to make this okay. And this time, there wasn't a fix-all. There wasn't intervention from a vampire and her going to jail for a few months to make this okay again.
This was over. As soon as she'd seen B, grabbed herself a bottle of Jacks and hotfooted it out of there, this was over. Done. Ended.
Faith, there has to be another... We'll find a cure for this.
"A cure?" Faith snorted, softly. "Sam, c'mon. This is it for me. You really want to chain me up until I'm snappin' and fucking snarling like some dog at anyone who comes near me? You really think I wanna go out like that?"
She shook her head, "I killed a whole lot of people when I knew what I was doing to know that I don't wanna go down the same route when I don't. I don't wanna be some zombie's bitch. And I don't want someone else to have to make the decision to put me down - I go out on my terms, nobody else's. You tell me you understand that and we walk in there like I'm fine, you hear?"
Reply
He knew she had a point. They weren't likely to find a cure before she turned, and once she did? A zombie with Slayer strength wasn't exactly something he wanted to test out.
He wished there was another way, any other way that didn't involve Faith tasting the metal of Ellen's shotgun. She didn't want to go out like a rabid dog, and he didn't want her to go out that way. He bit his tongue to keep from telling her that because it would do no good.
She'd probably just roll her eyes at him, make some snarky remark about him and Buffy having a "saving people" thing, and that would be it. The story would still end the same.
With Faith alone in a truck, her own death a bullet away.
You tell me you understand that and we walk in there like I'm fine, you hear?
"I don't like this at all," he finally said with a frown, "but I understand."
And he did. he understood cause in his gut, he had to admit that he would make the same choice as Faith if he was in her shoes. Luckily though it wasn't his situation, his choice, yet.
"I won't tell them, but...."
And how do you say goodbye to someone you know won't be there in a few minutes?
He laughed dryly, a weak smile on his lips. "Well, at least I got risen from the dead in time to see you again."
Reply
"I don't like this either, Winchester, but it's all I got," said Faith, relieved he hadn't given her the speech. About how she deserved to be saved. About how she'd done enough, pushed the books back into the black...
She didn't deserve to go out like this. She didn't damn well want to go out like this but she'd be damned if she let some zombie make her its brain-eating, slobbering bitch. Fuck no.
Well, at least I got risen from the dead in time to see you again.
The corners of Faith's lips tugged upwards. "They say timing is everything, Dead Boy. Don't suppose your brother is around too? I wouldn't mind revisiting that before I bite the big one..." said Faith, smirking at his pained look. "Now that boy had some moves..."
The sound of a door slamming round the back of the house had Faith remembering what she was about to do here and she nodded at Sam. "C'mon. I don't got a lot of time left."
Reply
C'mon. I don't got a lot of time left.
He didn't argue as she slowly started towards the house, and Sam could see her grip on her shotgun tightening with each step. As they finally reached the steps, he stopped her with another touch to her shoulder and when she turned to him, he couldn't fight the frown on his lips.
"Hey," he said quietly as not to alert the others just yet. "I don't want you leaving here feeling guilty, okay? Promise me you won't cause I know that you did everything that you could. Don't blame yourself for anything. You gotta promise me that, okay?"
He paused with a slow exhale of breath. "I didn't get a lot of time to know you as well as I could have, but.... I'll miss you regardless. You've been a good ally and friend."
He offered up his free hand, his frown slowly becoming a smile. "I'd hug you but you might punch me." He raised an eyebrow. "Or grope me."
Reply
Her grip tight on the shotgun, Faith got to the foot of the stairs and felt Sam's hand at her shoulder.
I don't want you leaving here feeling guilty, okay? Promise me you won't cause I know that you did everything that you could. Don't blame yourself for anything. You gotta promise me that, okay?
Faith thought about that for a second, nodded. "I promise." Because other than kill all those who'd killed her allies - her friends - what more could she have done? Water under the bridge now, she figured.
And then he came out with about the best eulogy Faith could ever hope for and she stared at him, strangely touched by a guy she'd only met a handful of times; a guy she'd found ever-so-slightly annoying at his most sickeningly sweet with B.
I'd hug you but you might punch me. Or grope me.
"Definitely the latter," she nodded, reaching out and clasping his hand in hers, holding it there for just a moment. She cleared her throat, turning back towards the door and climbing up the steps, her heart heavy. She was comforted slightly, by the fact that Sam knew what was going on. That he could maybe explain to B, once everything had gone down.
They stepped inside, Faith holding the door for Sam, and when they headed into the living room it was Buffy who was first off her seat, Buffy who took a step towards her, searching behind her for Willow and the others and finding Sam.
"B," Faith started, but her voice wavered and she clenched her fists hard. "I did everything I could." And for the first time - at probably the worst time - Faith actually believed it.
Buffy stared back and forth between them. Faith, looking like hell - literally - Sam not fairing much better, though he was sans-blood. And it registered. It registered that there weren't Slayers trooping in behind her. No Willow, filling awkward silences with babbling.
The silence stretched until realization hit the small number of girls gathered in the room and a couple of them started crying. "Girls. Upstairs, now."
The few Slayers in Training that were left in the room got out quickly, leaving only Sam, Faith and Buffy.
"I tried everything, B," Faith started again, "I'm--"
"You say you're sorry and I will beat you to death," Buffy whispered, turning and walking quickly out of the room. She couldn't. She could not do this. Not Willow. Not Willow who'd promised her on the phone that morning that their supply run was totally safe.
Not Willow who'd been there every day since the day she'd got to Sunnydale. Not Willow who'd moved in and looked after Dawn while she'd been dead, gone and--Fuck. Fuck.
Her hand went through the wall as easy as if it were made of paper and Buffy reached up, grabbed the first aid kit from the top shelf.
She had to go back. Help Faith. Tell her that she knew she'd done everything but sorry was a hard word to stomach when your best friend was dead and Buffy leant down and threw up, right there in Bobby's kitchen.
"I know," she said quietly, when she went back a moment later. "I know you did everything you could. I just--I can't hear sorry. Sorry means she's--I can't--Here. I'll help."
Faith's throat worked and she looked away from Buffy, shaking her head. "Not my blood, B. Not all of it. Nothin' a shower won't fix, anyway." She turned slightly, nodding at Sam. That's your cue, Dead Boy.
Reply
He wanted to save Faith the pain of telling Buffy about what had happened, but before he could even get the words out, Faith told Buffy that there was nothing she could do.
You say you're sorry and I will beat you to death.
Sam watched Faith flinch at those words, but before he could even try to calm Buffy down, she had walked away. He gave Faith an apologetic look. They'd all lost a lot tonight, and unfortunately for Faith, it was easy to take that grief out on her.
He tossed the duffel bag on the couch and started after Buffy, but she returned as quickly as she had left. She carried a first aid kit, the knuckles on her right hand were scraped and bloody, and she had the look of someone who was fighting hard to keep down their lunch.
She gave as best of an apology she could considering everything, even offering to help Faith patch herself up.
Not my blood, B. Not all of it. Nothin' a shower won't fix, anyway.
Faith looked at him, and he knew this was his cue. It was his turn to distract Buffy so that Faith could do the deed both of them were dreading.
"Let her get cleaned up first," Sam offered Buffy before slowly removing the first aid kit from her hands. He frowned a bit as he took hold of her bloody hand, inspecting it. "You put your fist through a wall, didn't you?" he asked with a knowing tone. "I'll patch you up while Faith gets cleaned up."
He moved between the girls, placing a hand at the small of Buffy's back to lead her into the kitchen. He glanced back at Faith who continued to stand in the middle of the floor, shotgun clenched in her hand.
He gave her a small smile and a nod, the only goodbye he could offer up right now, and he hoped she understood the gesture.
Reply
She looked pale, sweaty; kinda like herself, Faith guessed, though she knew Buffy wasn't sporting a zombie bite anywhere on her person right now.
You put your fist through a wall, didn't you?
Faith watched as Buffy nodded, not even speaking, considering growth on a grandiose scale that B hadn't put her first through her at the news she'd just delivered.
"B? Buffy?" Faith waited until the other girl had turned back, met her gaze. "Thanks. For saying that. What you did I mean."
Buffy's face clouded with something very like guilt and she winced. "What, threatening to beat you to death?" She wasn't having such luck on the placating front these days, preferring more to put her damn foot in her mouth at every opportunity. "I didn't mean that. I'm- I'm sorry."
Faith nodded, kinda shocked, gave a small smile. "I know. I meant the other. Means a lot, y'know? Coming from you."
I'll patch you up while Faith gets cleaned up.
Buffy nodded, shooting a quick glance back at Faith, knowing damn fine that whatever'd happened out there was eating her alive. "You sure you're alright?"
Faith gave a small smile, a pointed glance at Sam. "Five by five."
"We'll talk later, alright?" Buffy still wasn't convinced. "Once you're cleaned up?"
"Count on it," Faith nodded again, thankful for Sam's intervention, the ease with which he'd taken Buffy's focus away from her. She wasn't honestly sure how much longer she could've held out under B's gaze - she was no damn idiot and Sam had figured most of it out within a few minutes. Faith had simply confirmed the rest.
She gave him a small smile as he led Buffy away, convinced still that she was doing the right thing. My death, my terms, thought Faith and turned, letting the door shut behind her quietly on her way out of the farmhouse.
She'd been right with what she'd told Sam and when she hopped up into the truck, she took one last glance at the house. The lights in the rooms that held way more girls than should be natural, the one in Ellen's - the woman who'd given Faith her shotgun and damn well ordered her to bring herself back in one piece.
Faith had, more or less, but Ellen wasn't likely to be getting her shotgun back the way she thought. She started up the engine and backed out of the drive, heading west. She drove for forty-five minutes, doubling back on herself twice so that if they, for whatever reason, decided they'd come look for her and followed her tyre tracks, it'd take them a hell of a long time to find her.
When she stopped, the flesh on her arm felt like it was bubbling. She opened the compartment in her loaned truck as she had earlier, finding the flask of whiskey, thanking whatever God was out there for the wonder that was Bobby, and unscrewed the top.
One drink, a slow burn, and Faith lifted the shotgun, wedging it between herself and the seat.
The blast went off two seconds later.
Reply
Leave a comment