Fic: Omega Rising (6/15) (Buffy/Faith)
A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
Previously in Omega...
Gunn gives me a knowing smirk.
“Shut up, man,” I try to look ferocious.
He holds his palms up. “I’m just saying, I could use some good luck, too.”
Chapter 6: Hell, Population: Three More People
It seems like that kiss did give me some good luck because we see the off-ramp for Sunnydale just before midnight. Sure, a two-hour trip took five and a half hours, but we’re all still alive and kicking, and so is Gunn’s truck.
Just as Gunn steers us onto the ramp, our good luck runs out. Figures that that would be the case. Sunnydale never brought me anything but aggravation, why should now be any different? There’s a loud pop, and then the truck starts pulling to the right. “Not now, baby,” Gunn croons to the truck, but he slows to a stop anyway.
“Do you have a spare?” Angel asks, climbing out of the cab. I follow suit; I could use the air.
The passenger front tire is totally flat with a giant piece of shrapnel poking from it.
Gunn rummages in the back of the truck for his spare, and I walk toward the concrete side of the ramp. Peering over the side, I scan the horizon, looking for signs of life. No lights on in Sunnydale tonight. Abandoned cars line the opposing ramp. It’s obvious there was a rush to get out of town. The street under us is quiet, no zombies in sight.
Something doesn’t feel right. It shouldn’t be this quiet. Behind me, Angel and Gunn speak in low voices as they start to change the tire.
“Let’s make it fast,” I say quietly, backing toward them.
Neither of them argues, they just move quicker. Standing in front of them, I scan the darkness carefully. There’s nothing to see. Nothing on this ramp but us and empty cars. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the sounds around us and figure out what the issue is. I don’t hear any animals. No fluttering of wings, not even a cricket chirping. And then… is that… the faint shuffle of feet on concrete?
I say, “Incoming,” just as Gunn swears, dropping his wrench with a clang.
“I’m okay,” he says, pulling his cut hand to his mouth.
Faster than I expected, the dead are falling up the ramp, dragging themselves past the stalled cars and right for us.
“Gunn!” Angel barks, moving to stand beside me.
“I know!” The other man shouts back, forgetting his wounded hand and frantically working on the tire.
I pluck two swords from the truck bed and toss one to Angel. We step forward to meet the zombies, swords slicing and dicing. Some of these bodies are familiar, and I try not to place their faces before I plunge my sword through their heads. We’re fast; we can hold them back. This is totally doable.
A collective moan rises up, and I look past the truck. Another group shambles up the ramp toward us.
“I don’t want to rush you or anything,” I call, still twisting and dipping, my sword cutting down kneecaps and plunging through skulls, “but we’ve got like 30 seconds until we’re dinner!”
“Almost done,” Gunn’s panicked voice reaches my ears over the moaning. Another dozen of the dead have joined the ranks on this side of the ramp.
“No time,” Angel says, giving up on keeping the zombies at bay. He runs to the side of the ramp and peers down.
“We can make it,” I say, ramming the butt of my weapon into the forehead of the zombie pawing at me.
Gunn sees what we’re planning. “No way!”
“You see any other option?” I run to the truck, gathering our weapon bags and tossing them to Angel. He drops each off the ramp.
“But my truck!” Gunn practically tears up looking at his truck.
“Suit yourself, then.” I fling the last bag over the wall and then leap casually over. An abandoned car breaks my fall. Luckily the owner’s probably up on that ramp right now, so I don’t have to worry about leaving my ass print in his hood.
“Gunn, move it!” Angel makes one last plea to his friend before he leaps off the ramp. His coat billows around him like fucking Dracula, and then he lands, rolling and leaping back to his feet neatly.
Gunn’s frightened face peers over the side. “Knew it was a bad idea to hang with you,” he yells to Angel, before glancing over his shoulder.
Moving under the ramp, I hold my arms up to him. “Come on, we’ll catch you!”
He glares at me, hooking one leg over the concrete wall.
Angel joins me, both of us bracing to break Gunn’s fall.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Gunn’s cry echoes as he plummets from the ramp and directly toward us.
We collapse in a heap under Gunn’s weight.
“Everybody okay?” Angel asks and we all drag ourselves to our feet.
“Need a minute,” Gunn groans, trying to flex each of his limbs.
“You need a minute?” I croak, shoving his elbow off my solar plexus.
Angel clears his throat in alarm and we look up to see the first three zombies dropping off the ramp. “Move now, complain later,” the vampire tells us as he scoops up several bags of our supplies.
Gunn and I stumble to our feet, collecting the remaining bags. Pressing my palm into the rib I’m pretty sure Gunn just broke, I jog after Angel. Fucking Sunnydale.
XXXXX
“Far be it for me to be the practical one here, but uh, do we have a plan?” Gunn’s voice is low but reaches our ears easily. The three of us creep up the road leading into Sunnydale, clustered together along the divider line. Trees line either side of the road, and anything could be hiding in these woods. Now that we’re here, my mind is just running through all the potential threats we could run in to. With the human population decimated, what’s to stop the demons from overrunning this town?
“Make some headway into town, find a place to hole up over the next day,” Angel responds, flicking his eyes over to Gunn and me. “Give our injuries time to heal.”
Dropping the hand I’ve been holding to my ribs, I immediately protest, “I’m fine! We should keep going.”
“Faith,” Angel complains, as the dark outline of buildings starts to form in the distance, “how are you going to watch my back when you can hardly breathe?”
I glare at Gunn. “Well, if someone knew how to fall correctly, we wouldn’t have any problems.”
“Me? You two don’t know how to catch!”
“Kids,” Angel scolds, “if you can’t get along, I’ll turn this car around and head straight back to LA.”
I flash my middle finger in the vampire’s direction, and Gunn snickers.
“I saw that,” Angel says, without turning around.
“You did not!”
“Omega, two o’clock,” Gunn’s warning cuts off all horseplay, and we watch a small group of the dead dragging themselves into the center of the street. And I do mean dragging. Not one of them has two fully functioning legs. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ve been run over by a really big truck.
I draw a long handle ax from the bag slung on my back as we stride up the street toward the group.
“I’m having a really bad day,” Gunn grumbles as he imbeds his machete in the forehead of one of the nurses from Sunnydale General. “I just lost my truck thanks to some of your cousins. And I am not in the mood for this.”
In spite of the circumstances, I find myself laughing while I decapitate a zombie. A few feet ahead, Angel whirls, slicing the back of his zombie’s knees and then bringing his sword through its neck as it falls.
“Did you lock the doors before we left?” I wheeze in mock concern, ignoring my shrieking ribs as I narrowly avoid the teeth coming at my neck.
“You know you can’t get that smell out of the upholstery if they get in,” Angel adds, waiting for Gunn and me to finish the last two of the group.
Gunn’s machete sails through the air with expert precision, bringing an end to the moaning creature in front of him. He frowns at us. “That ain’t right.”
I’m wiping the blood from my ax when my ears prick. Angel and Gunn are talking quietly, picking up discarded weapon bags. I cock my head to the left, convinced I heard something else.
“Faith?” Angel calls, “You coming?”
“Yeah,” I answer, slinging my bag onto my back. That’s when I hear it, a small whimper. There’s no path that I can see into the forest, but I’m positive someone’s in there. Alive.
Without waiting for backup, I dart into the trees. I pause a few feet in, straining my hearing. There’s a heartbeat close by. I move in its direction instinctively, ignoring the footfalls of my friends behind me. The whimper sounds again, and I stop in front of a giant tree. The bottom two feet of the tree is a mass of roots, tangled and knotted around one another. I drop to my belly, looking for an opening between them.
A pair of wide eyes blinks at me from a small hollow space.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You can come out now.”
The person cries again, drawing further away.
“Hey,” I murmur gently, “it’s okay. They’re gone; I promise.”
The eyes move a little closer, so a hint of moonlight illuminates a small nose.
“That’s right,” I encourage. “Come on out.”
A small form moves fully into the light and holds out a hand. I reach out, clasping the little hand and helping the kid climb out.
Angel and Gunn stand silently behind me as I kneel in front of the child. She’s a tiny thing, no more than five or six years old. Her long dark hair is tangled, covering half her face. She shrinks away when I try to push her hair back.
“Okay,” I placate her, dropping my hands. “What’s your name, short stuff?”
She stares back, trembling quietly.
“I’m Faith,” I offer and gesture to my friends. “These big goofs are Angel and Gunn.”
The wind picks up and pricks her bare arms and legs. She must be freezing in her shorts and t-shirt.
“We’re here to help,” I tell the little girl. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Starla,” she whispers, looking almost afraid of the sound coming from her mouth.
“Starla,” I repeat, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile, “how did you end up out here?”
I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She grips it with her tiny, tan fingers and looks at me again. “The monsters came, and Daddy told me to run.”
“Have you seen your Daddy again?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“Okay,” I tell her, reaching out for her hand. “That’s okay, Starla. We’re gonna take you someplace safe, okay?”
She nods, and I climb to my feet.
“The Motor Inn’s just up the street,” Angel offers. Never thought I’d be back in that shithole, but it doesn’t look like we got a whole lot of options.
“Right,” I sigh. “You ready, Star?”
The little girl looks up at me, and her hair falls back, revealing the side of her face that’s been hidden in shadow. An angry red bite starts on her cheek, disappearing into her hair. Her left eye is bloodshot, and the iris is colored the dull gray of the dead.
XXXXX
In the honeymoon suite of the Motor Inn, I close the door to the bedroom behind me. I cross to the bathroom, ignoring the hard stares of Angel and Gunn. The two of them sit side by side on the sofa, looking at me like disapproving parents.
“Faith,” Angel begins, as I rummage in the cabinet for first aid supplies.
I know what he’s going to say, and I’m not trying to hear it.
“She’s infected,” he reminds me, not caring that I’m not responding.
“But she’s fine!” I hiss, drawing to a stop in front of them.
“For how long?” Gunn chimes in. “Sometimes it takes a little longer for them to turn, but they always do, in the end.”
This is news to me, but I’m too furious to really process what he’s saying. “You wanna go in there and do her?”
“No one’s saying that,” Angel interrupts, holding his hands up.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I just want to make sure we’re facing facts here.”
“Look,” I sneer, “You’re so gung ho to find Buffy that you can’t spare a minute to help this kid, go do it.” We glare at each other for a moment. “So much for helping the hopeless, huh?” I turn on my heel and go back into the bedroom, not waiting for his response.
Starla’s mismatched eyes stare up at me as I sit down beside her on the bed. “I’m gonna clean that cut, okay, Star?”
She nods, her lower lip quivering as I press an antiseptic soaked washcloth to the bite on her cheek. The skin around the bite is a dusky blue, the edges of the bite turning purple and gray. It doesn’t look good.
I plaster a bandage on with shaking fingers. It’s like a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, and I fucking know it. I put on a cheerful voice and tell her, “All clean. You feel okay?”
“I feel hot,” she murmurs back, and I notice the sheen of sweat around her hairline.
Pulling the blanket away from her, I tuck the sheet up to her chin. “That a little better?”
“Yeah.”
“You try to get some sleep, kid, okay?”
Starla closes her eyes obediently, and I settle myself into the empty space beside her. She brings one small hand to her mouth and tucks her thumb between her lips. This is the thing that sends me over the edge. My eyes burn, and I find myself crying for the first time since all this started. As hopeless as it’s seemed out there, it hasn’t really hit me until now just how unbelievably fucked we are. I’ve been fighting hard to stay alive, to keep Kim and Wes alive with me, and what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it? We all end up like this eventually-sucking our thumbs and waiting to die. Before, at least most people had a chance. Sure the world almost ended at least once a year, but somehow it always kept turning. Buffy kept it turning. But not this time. The human race is being hunted into extinction. And the real kicker-the cosmic fucking joke of it all-is that I’m immune. I got a front row ticket to the end of the world.
Starla’s asleep now. I get up quietly and head back to the living room, closing the door behind me. Without a word to Angel or Gunn, I sprawl on the other sofa and close my eyes. I could use some sleep, too.
XXXXX
I wake up to the sound of stumbling footsteps making their way across the room. In the darkness, I see Starla’s small body turning. I think she must be looking for me.
I stand up groggily. “Star?”
Her head turns in my direction, and she steps toward me.
“You okay?”
Her small hand reaches for me, and I take it, dropping into a crouch before her. Suddenly Angel’s there, shoving me back and away. There is a sickening sound as Starla sinks her teeth into his arm. He kicks out, forcing her small body away from him. Stumbling backward, he trips over the coffee table and clips his head on the edge going down.
“Angel?” Gunn calls through the dark room.
“He’s out cold,” I reply.
“Shit.” Gunn rummages in his bag, and the room illuminates in the glow of a flashlight.
I get back on my feet. “I’ve got her. You take care of him,” I nod at Angel.
Grasping my ax quickly, I meet the little girl in the center of the room. She’s back on her feet, trying to go toward Angel’s prone form. “I’m sorry,” I whisper sincerely. Then I bury the tip of my ax in her forehead and watch her small body drop to the ground. I sink to my knees, looking at her unmoving corpse.
Behind me, I hear some faint sniffling coming from Gunn. Taking another moment to collect myself, I turn back toward my friends.
Gunn crouches over Angel, a stake poised above his unmoving chest.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
“She got him,” Gunn tells me, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “He’s infected.”
My mouth flops open like a trout, and I am literally speechless for a moment.
“He was a good man,” Gunn says, seemingly working up the will to finish Angel off. “Well, not a man, but you know, a good guy anyway.”
“Uh, Gunn,” I begin.
“It’s okay,” Gunn shushes me. “I know he was your friend. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, that’s not it-”
“Maybe you should wait in the other room,” he offers.
“Gunn!”
“What?” He glances back at me.
“She’s trying to tell you that I’m not infected,” Angel interjects dryly from the floor.
Gunn swivels back to face Angel. “What?”
Angel shrugs. “Already dead, remember? I can’t get infected by a human virus.”
“Oh,” Gunn says stupidly, letting his stake hand drop. “Well, that’s great news!”
“Next time,” Angel says sourly, “please wait until I’m definitely about to kill you before you break out the stakes, okay?”
“Right,” Gunn nods, climbing to his feet.
“I’m touched by the tears, though,” Angel adds, sitting up and pressing a hand to his injured head. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Gunn coughs, and the vampire lets the topic drop. He turns toward me. “Is Starla…”
“Yeah,” I confirm. Angel has the good grace to pretend not to see the wetness shining in my eyes.
There’s a knock at the door, and we all glance toward it, suspiciously.
“Zombies don’t seem big on knocking, right?” Gunn asks.
“Right,” I get up, striding over to the door. Whatever’s on the other side can’t be nearly as bad as what just happened in here. I blink away the traces of tears and hold my ax at the ready. Yanking the door open, I prepare to defend myself.
Her surprised face stares back at me, and she’s holding her knife in a mirror image of mine. I stare in disbelief. “Buffy?”
XXXXX
Next chapter will be a slight departure from our normal proceedings… ;) I think you’ll like it though.
Please let me know what you thought of this one! :)
Previously in Omega...
Gunn gives me a knowing smirk.
“Shut up, man,” I try to look ferocious.
He holds his palms up. “I’m just saying, I could use some good luck, too.”
Chapter 6: Hell, Population: Three More People
It seems like that kiss did give me some good luck because we see the off-ramp for Sunnydale just before midnight. Sure, a two-hour trip took five and a half hours, but we’re all still alive and kicking, and so is Gunn’s truck.
Just as Gunn steers us onto the ramp, our good luck runs out. Figures that that would be the case. Sunnydale never brought me anything but aggravation, why should now be any different? There’s a loud pop, and then the truck starts pulling to the right. “Not now, baby,” Gunn croons to the truck, but he slows to a stop anyway.
“Do you have a spare?” Angel asks, climbing out of the cab. I follow suit; I could use the air.
The passenger front tire is totally flat with a giant piece of shrapnel poking from it.
Gunn rummages in the back of the truck for his spare, and I walk toward the concrete side of the ramp. Peering over the side, I scan the horizon, looking for signs of life. No lights on in Sunnydale tonight. Abandoned cars line the opposing ramp. It’s obvious there was a rush to get out of town. The street under us is quiet, no zombies in sight.
Something doesn’t feel right. It shouldn’t be this quiet. Behind me, Angel and Gunn speak in low voices as they start to change the tire.
“Let’s make it fast,” I say quietly, backing toward them.
Neither of them argues, they just move quicker. Standing in front of them, I scan the darkness carefully. There’s nothing to see. Nothing on this ramp but us and empty cars. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the sounds around us and figure out what the issue is. I don’t hear any animals. No fluttering of wings, not even a cricket chirping. And then… is that… the faint shuffle of feet on concrete?
I say, “Incoming,” just as Gunn swears, dropping his wrench with a clang.
“I’m okay,” he says, pulling his cut hand to his mouth.
Faster than I expected, the dead are falling up the ramp, dragging themselves past the stalled cars and right for us.
“Gunn!” Angel barks, moving to stand beside me.
“I know!” The other man shouts back, forgetting his wounded hand and frantically working on the tire.
I pluck two swords from the truck bed and toss one to Angel. We step forward to meet the zombies, swords slicing and dicing. Some of these bodies are familiar, and I try not to place their faces before I plunge my sword through their heads. We’re fast; we can hold them back. This is totally doable.
A collective moan rises up, and I look past the truck. Another group shambles up the ramp toward us.
“I don’t want to rush you or anything,” I call, still twisting and dipping, my sword cutting down kneecaps and plunging through skulls, “but we’ve got like 30 seconds until we’re dinner!”
“Almost done,” Gunn’s panicked voice reaches my ears over the moaning. Another dozen of the dead have joined the ranks on this side of the ramp.
“No time,” Angel says, giving up on keeping the zombies at bay. He runs to the side of the ramp and peers down.
“We can make it,” I say, ramming the butt of my weapon into the forehead of the zombie pawing at me.
Gunn sees what we’re planning. “No way!”
“You see any other option?” I run to the truck, gathering our weapon bags and tossing them to Angel. He drops each off the ramp.
“But my truck!” Gunn practically tears up looking at his truck.
“Suit yourself, then.” I fling the last bag over the wall and then leap casually over. An abandoned car breaks my fall. Luckily the owner’s probably up on that ramp right now, so I don’t have to worry about leaving my ass print in his hood.
“Gunn, move it!” Angel makes one last plea to his friend before he leaps off the ramp. His coat billows around him like fucking Dracula, and then he lands, rolling and leaping back to his feet neatly.
Gunn’s frightened face peers over the side. “Knew it was a bad idea to hang with you,” he yells to Angel, before glancing over his shoulder.
Moving under the ramp, I hold my arms up to him. “Come on, we’ll catch you!”
He glares at me, hooking one leg over the concrete wall.
Angel joins me, both of us bracing to break Gunn’s fall.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Gunn’s cry echoes as he plummets from the ramp and directly toward us.
We collapse in a heap under Gunn’s weight.
“Everybody okay?” Angel asks and we all drag ourselves to our feet.
“Need a minute,” Gunn groans, trying to flex each of his limbs.
“You need a minute?” I croak, shoving his elbow off my solar plexus.
Angel clears his throat in alarm and we look up to see the first three zombies dropping off the ramp. “Move now, complain later,” the vampire tells us as he scoops up several bags of our supplies.
Gunn and I stumble to our feet, collecting the remaining bags. Pressing my palm into the rib I’m pretty sure Gunn just broke, I jog after Angel. Fucking Sunnydale.
XXXXX
“Far be it for me to be the practical one here, but uh, do we have a plan?” Gunn’s voice is low but reaches our ears easily. The three of us creep up the road leading into Sunnydale, clustered together along the divider line. Trees line either side of the road, and anything could be hiding in these woods. Now that we’re here, my mind is just running through all the potential threats we could run in to. With the human population decimated, what’s to stop the demons from overrunning this town?
“Make some headway into town, find a place to hole up over the next day,” Angel responds, flicking his eyes over to Gunn and me. “Give our injuries time to heal.”
Dropping the hand I’ve been holding to my ribs, I immediately protest, “I’m fine! We should keep going.”
“Faith,” Angel complains, as the dark outline of buildings starts to form in the distance, “how are you going to watch my back when you can hardly breathe?”
I glare at Gunn. “Well, if someone knew how to fall correctly, we wouldn’t have any problems.”
“Me? You two don’t know how to catch!”
“Kids,” Angel scolds, “if you can’t get along, I’ll turn this car around and head straight back to LA.”
I flash my middle finger in the vampire’s direction, and Gunn snickers.
“I saw that,” Angel says, without turning around.
“You did not!”
“Omega, two o’clock,” Gunn’s warning cuts off all horseplay, and we watch a small group of the dead dragging themselves into the center of the street. And I do mean dragging. Not one of them has two fully functioning legs. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ve been run over by a really big truck.
I draw a long handle ax from the bag slung on my back as we stride up the street toward the group.
“I’m having a really bad day,” Gunn grumbles as he imbeds his machete in the forehead of one of the nurses from Sunnydale General. “I just lost my truck thanks to some of your cousins. And I am not in the mood for this.”
In spite of the circumstances, I find myself laughing while I decapitate a zombie. A few feet ahead, Angel whirls, slicing the back of his zombie’s knees and then bringing his sword through its neck as it falls.
“Did you lock the doors before we left?” I wheeze in mock concern, ignoring my shrieking ribs as I narrowly avoid the teeth coming at my neck.
“You know you can’t get that smell out of the upholstery if they get in,” Angel adds, waiting for Gunn and me to finish the last two of the group.
Gunn’s machete sails through the air with expert precision, bringing an end to the moaning creature in front of him. He frowns at us. “That ain’t right.”
I’m wiping the blood from my ax when my ears prick. Angel and Gunn are talking quietly, picking up discarded weapon bags. I cock my head to the left, convinced I heard something else.
“Faith?” Angel calls, “You coming?”
“Yeah,” I answer, slinging my bag onto my back. That’s when I hear it, a small whimper. There’s no path that I can see into the forest, but I’m positive someone’s in there. Alive.
Without waiting for backup, I dart into the trees. I pause a few feet in, straining my hearing. There’s a heartbeat close by. I move in its direction instinctively, ignoring the footfalls of my friends behind me. The whimper sounds again, and I stop in front of a giant tree. The bottom two feet of the tree is a mass of roots, tangled and knotted around one another. I drop to my belly, looking for an opening between them.
A pair of wide eyes blinks at me from a small hollow space.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You can come out now.”
The person cries again, drawing further away.
“Hey,” I murmur gently, “it’s okay. They’re gone; I promise.”
The eyes move a little closer, so a hint of moonlight illuminates a small nose.
“That’s right,” I encourage. “Come on out.”
A small form moves fully into the light and holds out a hand. I reach out, clasping the little hand and helping the kid climb out.
Angel and Gunn stand silently behind me as I kneel in front of the child. She’s a tiny thing, no more than five or six years old. Her long dark hair is tangled, covering half her face. She shrinks away when I try to push her hair back.
“Okay,” I placate her, dropping my hands. “What’s your name, short stuff?”
She stares back, trembling quietly.
“I’m Faith,” I offer and gesture to my friends. “These big goofs are Angel and Gunn.”
The wind picks up and pricks her bare arms and legs. She must be freezing in her shorts and t-shirt.
“We’re here to help,” I tell the little girl. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Starla,” she whispers, looking almost afraid of the sound coming from her mouth.
“Starla,” I repeat, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile, “how did you end up out here?”
I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She grips it with her tiny, tan fingers and looks at me again. “The monsters came, and Daddy told me to run.”
“Have you seen your Daddy again?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“Okay,” I tell her, reaching out for her hand. “That’s okay, Starla. We’re gonna take you someplace safe, okay?”
She nods, and I climb to my feet.
“The Motor Inn’s just up the street,” Angel offers. Never thought I’d be back in that shithole, but it doesn’t look like we got a whole lot of options.
“Right,” I sigh. “You ready, Star?”
The little girl looks up at me, and her hair falls back, revealing the side of her face that’s been hidden in shadow. An angry red bite starts on her cheek, disappearing into her hair. Her left eye is bloodshot, and the iris is colored the dull gray of the dead.
XXXXX
In the honeymoon suite of the Motor Inn, I close the door to the bedroom behind me. I cross to the bathroom, ignoring the hard stares of Angel and Gunn. The two of them sit side by side on the sofa, looking at me like disapproving parents.
“Faith,” Angel begins, as I rummage in the cabinet for first aid supplies.
I know what he’s going to say, and I’m not trying to hear it.
“She’s infected,” he reminds me, not caring that I’m not responding.
“But she’s fine!” I hiss, drawing to a stop in front of them.
“For how long?” Gunn chimes in. “Sometimes it takes a little longer for them to turn, but they always do, in the end.”
This is news to me, but I’m too furious to really process what he’s saying. “You wanna go in there and do her?”
“No one’s saying that,” Angel interrupts, holding his hands up.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I just want to make sure we’re facing facts here.”
“Look,” I sneer, “You’re so gung ho to find Buffy that you can’t spare a minute to help this kid, go do it.” We glare at each other for a moment. “So much for helping the hopeless, huh?” I turn on my heel and go back into the bedroom, not waiting for his response.
Starla’s mismatched eyes stare up at me as I sit down beside her on the bed. “I’m gonna clean that cut, okay, Star?”
She nods, her lower lip quivering as I press an antiseptic soaked washcloth to the bite on her cheek. The skin around the bite is a dusky blue, the edges of the bite turning purple and gray. It doesn’t look good.
I plaster a bandage on with shaking fingers. It’s like a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, and I fucking know it. I put on a cheerful voice and tell her, “All clean. You feel okay?”
“I feel hot,” she murmurs back, and I notice the sheen of sweat around her hairline.
Pulling the blanket away from her, I tuck the sheet up to her chin. “That a little better?”
“Yeah.”
“You try to get some sleep, kid, okay?”
Starla closes her eyes obediently, and I settle myself into the empty space beside her. She brings one small hand to her mouth and tucks her thumb between her lips. This is the thing that sends me over the edge. My eyes burn, and I find myself crying for the first time since all this started. As hopeless as it’s seemed out there, it hasn’t really hit me until now just how unbelievably fucked we are. I’ve been fighting hard to stay alive, to keep Kim and Wes alive with me, and what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it? We all end up like this eventually-sucking our thumbs and waiting to die. Before, at least most people had a chance. Sure the world almost ended at least once a year, but somehow it always kept turning. Buffy kept it turning. But not this time. The human race is being hunted into extinction. And the real kicker-the cosmic fucking joke of it all-is that I’m immune. I got a front row ticket to the end of the world.
Starla’s asleep now. I get up quietly and head back to the living room, closing the door behind me. Without a word to Angel or Gunn, I sprawl on the other sofa and close my eyes. I could use some sleep, too.
XXXXX
I wake up to the sound of stumbling footsteps making their way across the room. In the darkness, I see Starla’s small body turning. I think she must be looking for me.
I stand up groggily. “Star?”
Her head turns in my direction, and she steps toward me.
“You okay?”
Her small hand reaches for me, and I take it, dropping into a crouch before her. Suddenly Angel’s there, shoving me back and away. There is a sickening sound as Starla sinks her teeth into his arm. He kicks out, forcing her small body away from him. Stumbling backward, he trips over the coffee table and clips his head on the edge going down.
“Angel?” Gunn calls through the dark room.
“He’s out cold,” I reply.
“Shit.” Gunn rummages in his bag, and the room illuminates in the glow of a flashlight.
I get back on my feet. “I’ve got her. You take care of him,” I nod at Angel.
Grasping my ax quickly, I meet the little girl in the center of the room. She’s back on her feet, trying to go toward Angel’s prone form. “I’m sorry,” I whisper sincerely. Then I bury the tip of my ax in her forehead and watch her small body drop to the ground. I sink to my knees, looking at her unmoving corpse.
Behind me, I hear some faint sniffling coming from Gunn. Taking another moment to collect myself, I turn back toward my friends.
Gunn crouches over Angel, a stake poised above his unmoving chest.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
“She got him,” Gunn tells me, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “He’s infected.”
My mouth flops open like a trout, and I am literally speechless for a moment.
“He was a good man,” Gunn says, seemingly working up the will to finish Angel off. “Well, not a man, but you know, a good guy anyway.”
“Uh, Gunn,” I begin.
“It’s okay,” Gunn shushes me. “I know he was your friend. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, that’s not it-”
“Maybe you should wait in the other room,” he offers.
“Gunn!”
“What?” He glances back at me.
“She’s trying to tell you that I’m not infected,” Angel interjects dryly from the floor.
Gunn swivels back to face Angel. “What?”
Angel shrugs. “Already dead, remember? I can’t get infected by a human virus.”
“Oh,” Gunn says stupidly, letting his stake hand drop. “Well, that’s great news!”
“Next time,” Angel says sourly, “please wait until I’m definitely about to kill you before you break out the stakes, okay?”
“Right,” Gunn nods, climbing to his feet.
“I’m touched by the tears, though,” Angel adds, sitting up and pressing a hand to his injured head. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Gunn coughs, and the vampire lets the topic drop. He turns toward me. “Is Starla…”
“Yeah,” I confirm. Angel has the good grace to pretend not to see the wetness shining in my eyes.
There’s a knock at the door, and we all glance toward it, suspiciously.
“Zombies don’t seem big on knocking, right?” Gunn asks.
“Right,” I get up, striding over to the door. Whatever’s on the other side can’t be nearly as bad as what just happened in here. I blink away the traces of tears and hold my ax at the ready. Yanking the door open, I prepare to defend myself.
Her surprised face stares back at me, and she’s holding her knife in a mirror image of mine. I stare in disbelief. “Buffy?”
XXXXX
Next chapter will be a slight departure from our normal proceedings… ;) I think you’ll like it though.
Please let me know what you thought of this one! :)