Fic: Omega Rising (15/16) (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...
The throbbing in my abdomen starts to drift back into my consciousness and I ease myself back against the couch. I touch the wound with my clean hand, relieved to find it still closed.
“You okay?” B asks breathlessly.
“Yeah,” I assure her, “I’m perfect.”
Chapter 15: Losses and Gains
When I wake up, Buffy’s bare toes are poking into my chin. She’s half on top of me, her head resting on my calf. There’s 60 pounds of well-muscled German Shepherd sleeping on my chest, snoring her dog breath right in my face.
“Ginger,” I growl, and the dog lifts one furry eyelid to peer at me. “Off,” I say sternly.
She goes, but not before yawning in my face.
A quiet chuckle comes from the other end of the couch, and I look down to see Buffy smiling at me through her messy hair. “Morning,” she murmurs.
“Hi,” I respond as she pulls herself into a sitting position.
“How’s the uterus?”
“Very funny,” I tell her, letting my fingers run over the bumpy stitches in my skin. “Feels alright.”
“Let me see,” Buffy leans forward to study her handiwork, and I get a nice view down her shirt. She hasn’t put her bra back on. “Yeah, I think you’ll live.” She climbs off the couch, holding her ripped jeans up with one hand. She pads across the room and disappears behind a wall, leaving me alone with the dog.
Ginger’s ears perk up in interest when I unzip my pack. Unfortunately, we’re out of poptarts and I’m just looking for a cleanish shirt. I find a rumpled t-shirt and tug it down over my head. It’s not the freshest, but at least it’s not covered in blood. My abdomen aches a little, but I feel stronger. I’m ready to move on.
B reappears, carrying an unopened box of Cheerios. “Breakfast,” she says cheerfully, holding it out to me. I take it, tearing it open immediately and tossing back a handful. I’m starving.
Buffy rummages in my pack for a moment before she pulls out an extra pair of pants. Without a word, she kicks off her shredded jeans and steps into my pants. They’re a little loose, but manageable.
“Sorry to take your only other pair,” Buffy tells me, “but you kind of ruined my jeans.”
“Uh yeah,” the cheerios stick in my throat a little as I swallow, “about last night…”
Buffy meets my eyes. “It was fun.”
“Well, yeah,” I agree. That’s not in dispute.
Sitting beside me, Buffy lays her hand on my leg.
I look at her curiously, anxious to hear what she’s gonna say.
“Faith,” B uses her gentle voice, “I know you used to have a thing for me. Maybe you still do.”
Well, this is not what I was expecting, but I don’t bother to deny it.
“Things have been so intense… and I really needed someone last night, and you were there for me.” She squeezes my leg softly.
I maintain my exterior calm even though I’m starting to feel vaguely nauseous. “It’s cool. You needed to scratch an itch. I get it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Buffy protests.
“B,” I take her hand and move it off my leg. “It’s okay. You don’t gotta explain.”
Buffy huffs in exasperation. “I’m just trying to say-last night was amazing-I just don’t really know what that means right now.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly, eager to end this conversation. I thrust the cereal box at her. “You should eat something. Gotta get a move on.”
She stares at me for a moment and then accepts the box. “Alright.”
“I’m gonna see how things look outside.” I quickly make my way across the room without waiting for a response. Climbing out the window, I stand on the landing of the fire escape. It’s a beautiful day, warm and sunny. If I just squint over the tops of the nearby buildings, I can almost imagine the world’s still normal. There’s no use in pretending, so I look down to check out the situation on the ground. Only two of the dead are wandering around the street. Looks like the exit is clear, if we make a quick getaway.
The landing creaks behind me as Buffy climbs out the window. She steps behind me, intending to join me at the railing. Without any conscious decision on my part, I find myself turning and grabbing her biceps with both hands. I yank her forward, pressing my mouth against hers.
The truth is that no matter how nonchalant I managed to act in front of her, I feel like she ripped out my heart this morning. I’ve wanted her so long, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to spend one night with her and then act like it never happened.
She lets me pull her flush against me, our breasts crushed together. There’s no great technique to this kiss, no elegance whatsoever; there’s just me kissing her with clear desperation. I’m humiliating myself, but I can’t seem to let go.
Buffy cups my face in her palms, slowing things down.
Getting a hold of myself, I abruptly let go. “Sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry. You don’t want me to kiss you.”
“It’s okay,” B replies, her hands settling on my waist. “I did want you to.” She looks as confused as I feel.
We stare at each other, and I try to understand what she’s thinking and feeling. Try as I might, I’m completely in the dark. As much as I could sit here all day hoping for enlightenment, we’re still the slayers and there’s still a kid who needs us. So I step back, and her soft, small hands fall away from my hips. It’s time to go.
XXXXX
We backtrack to the car, and fortunately, without the allure of the dog, the dead have scattered. With Buffy behind the wheel, we’re soon cruising down the freeway again. Ginger naps peacefully in the backseat, not bothered by the warm Fall air blowing in the window and through her fur.
“How are we gonna find this kid?” I ask out loud, as Buffy navigates the exit for Downey.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I’m hoping we’ll stumble on them, I guess.”
Sounds like a great plan. I’m less excited that I agreed to come on this trip with every passing second. I keep my mouth shut about it. Buffy and I haven’t talked much since we left the apartment. It’s not the most uncomfortable we’ve ever been around each other, but it ranks pretty high up on my list.
B steers us slowly through the streets, and we both keep a look out for anything that would help us find this kid. The town is devoid of people, well, living people anyway. There are zombies dragging themselves around, and the sound of our engine causes them to fix their hungry eyes on us. We go as slowly as we dare, and now Ginger sits up in the backseat, whining softly. I don’t blame the poor thing; she’s gotta be terrified after being trapped in the car yesterday.
The zombies thin out some as we drive out of the residential area. The tree cover is becoming thicker, and I strain to peer through it as we go by. I don’t see how we’re going to run into this kid. It’s not like they’d be stupid enough to just be walking down the street. I’m about to tell B as much when something catches my eye through the trees. “Wait!” I call out, and Buffy slams on the brakes.
“Did you see something?”
“I think so. Can you back up?”
Buffy slowly reverses, crunching over some debris that could easily pop our tires. I wince, but don’t say anything. I’m looking for what I think I saw through a break in the trees.
“There! Do you see that?”
Buffy squints uncertainly. “That building?”
I nod enthusiastically.
“What about it?” Buffy’s confused.
“The panels,” I explain. The whole thing is made of gleaming, white panels.
“I don’t get it.”
Popping open the glove box, I grab Cordelia’s drawing. “Look familiar?”
B takes in what we thought was wood paneling in Cordy’s sketch. “Nice eye,” she compliments.
I shrug, but I can feel my cheeks getting warm. “Think it’s worth a look?”
“Definitely.” She puts the car back in drive.
Up the road a little further, we come to a driveway. A large sign welcomes us to the Columbia Memorial Space Center. I can’t say I feel too excited to visit, what with the bloody handprints smeared along the bottom.
At the entrance, we get out, and I toss Buffy an ax. She catches it easily and wields it like the pro she is. I jiggle the handle of the first door and I’m surprised when it swings open easily. “After you,” I say, holding it open for B.
She holds her weapon at the ready and passes through. I’m close behind her as we move silently through the deserted lobby. Striding to the information desk, Buffy plucks a map from the basket. She looks it over as I keep an eye out for intruders.
“What do you think?” She whispers.
I glance at the map. “Café?”
“I think so, too.” B pockets the map, and we’re moving again. She leads the way, past the flight simulator, a room full of darkened television screens that invites us to watch NASA Live, and half a dozen other dark and deserted exhibits. From the robotics lab, a figure suddenly falls through the doorway. Its hand grapples for Buffy’s ankle, and she brings her ax down through its wrist quickly. Undeterred, the zombie crawls closer, trying to get its mouth to her leg. B rolls her eyes, quickly bringing the business end of her ax to the back of its head.
The zombie goes still, and we step past without missing a beat. When we reach the doors to the café, we find them locked tightly. Applying a little of the old slayer strength, I snap the lock easily. Unfortunately, there’s furniture piled to the ceiling on the other side.
Buffy and I each take a side, quickly moving through the haphazard stack. As we reach the final layer, Buffy touches my arm. “Stay covered,” she tells me quietly, “whoever is on the other side may not like us breaking in.”
“Gotcha.”
We work together to clear a space big enough for a person to slip through. I step through before B can offer to go first. I can hear some scuffling on the other side of the furniture, so I stick one arm through first and wave my open palm. “I’m gonna step in now,” I call out quietly. “I’m not infected and I’m not going to hurt you, so just take it easy.”
There’s no response from the other side, so I have no choice but to go in blind. I slowly emerge from behind the stacked tables and peer into the room.
The boy from Cordelia’s vision crouches under a table, his large, frightened eyes staring up at me.
“Hey,” I say in my friendliest tone, trying to let him see he doesn’t have to be scared. I walk slowly toward him and look under his table. “It’s okay; you can come out.”
A loud click behind me makes me slowly turn away from the kid.
“Get the hell away from my son,” a frightened voice commands me. The boy’s father holds a small pistol, gripping it with both hands, barrel trained on my chest. He’s a slight man, thin and wiry, with round glasses.
I hold my hands up and step away from the table. “Be cool,” I tell him.
“Who the hell are you?” He demands. “How did you get in here?”
I don’t bother answering because Buffy pops up beside the man before he notices her movement. In one fluid motion, she brings the side of her hand down on his arm and causes him to lose his grip on the gun. Her arms encircle him before he can go after it.
“Dad!” The little boy flies toward his struggling father.
As his son collides with his legs, the man goes still in Buffy’s arms.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I say reassuringly, nodding at B to release him. “We’re here to help.”
He rubs his neck as Buffy steps back from him. Reaching down, he scoops his child into his arms and holds him protectively.
“Who are you?” He demands, clearly afraid. “Vampires?”
B and I exchange amused glances. “No, definitely not.”
“Then what?”
“I’m Buffy,” B offers, standing beside me. She touches my arm. “This is Faith.”
Social conditioning wins out over desire to appear tough, and the man grudgingly offers his name. “I’m Jacob.” He shifts the little boy clinging to his neck. “This is Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Jacob,” Buffy greets him calmly.
His eyes flick back and forth between us, obviously deciding whether to flee.
“Jake,” I say, drawing his attention to me. “We came here because we were looking for you and your boy.” I slowly reach in my pocket and take out Cordelia’s drawing.
He takes it, staring at the rough sketch of his son. “Where did you get this? Who sent you?”
Buffy takes a deep breath and gives him our story. He’s probably going to think we’re nuts.
“You’re crazy,” he says vehemently, when she’s finished.
“No,” she replies quietly, “I’m not. Look around you, Jacob. The dead are up and walking around. You met real live vampires. Does this really sound so crazy?”
“But why us?” He asks. “What do you want with my son?”
“We don’t know,” I tell him. “We just took the message.”
Trying to keep everyone at ease, Buffy slides her ax into her belt and takes a seat at a nearby table. “Why don’t you tell us a little about your family and maybe it’ll become clearer.”
Hesitantly, Jacob joins her, placing Ben in a chair beside him. I take the last chair and smile at the kid.
He looks back shyly, with the slightest upturn in the corner of his mouth.
“There’s not much to tell,” Jacob smoothes back his curly hair. “We’re from the city. We came to Downey because my parents live here. I thought maybe...” he clears his throat, “maybe we could find them. I didn’t know what else to do.”
B nods sympathetically.
I trust her ability to get to the bottom of it, so I tune them out and make funny faces at the kid. He giggles and then quickly hides his smile behind his hands. I raise my eyebrows at him and mirror his movement.
I can see the smile in his eyes as he wiggles his hand up and down.
I do likewise, still copying him, and he laughs.
Jacob gives me a strained smile when he sees his son actually grinning. Continuing his story, he tells us, “At first, I tried to stay in the city. I worked at the CDC, and my team and I… well, we thought we were getting close to understanding the infection.”
That gets my attention and I look at B. She’s looking right back in surprise.
“It’s not the kid,” she says, and I nod in agreement.
“What do you mean?” Jacob asks.
“I think we were looking for you all along,” B tells him. “Our friend had another vision. There might be a cure for this thing.”
“A cure?” Jacob repeats incredulously.
“Yeah,” Buffy says, smiling widely now. “A cure.”
XXXXX
After getting Ginger and our packs from the car, we decide to spend the night in the café before we head for the Hyperion again. Jacob doesn’t like the idea of getting stuck out there after sundown, and I don’t blame him. It’s obvious he’s been trying to keep things nice and calm for his kid. He’s raided the gift shop, and Ben amuses himself for hours with their loot. He’s got at least a dozen books. Me and Space. Cats Move to Space. Blah Blah Blah Mars. If he gets bored of that, there are shuttle models to build, coloring books of the planets, astronaut action figures, everything a kid could want. Everything outer space themed anyway.
The space center turns out to be pretty good for B and me too. Our host surprises us with a hot dinner. “Pluto burgers,” he informs us, pointing to the menu mounted on the wall. “There’s a back up generator still going. It keeps things frozen, and the stove’s electric too.”
I take a huge, hungry bite. “Why are we in a rush to get back again?” I ask Buffy, not caring if a few crumbs pop from my mouth.
“Something about the fate of the world, sacred calling, yadda yadda,” she answers, digging in to her burger just as happily.
There’s no running water, but there are cold bottled drinks in the refrigerator. “Diet Coke,” Buffy practically moans as she opens it. “Sweet caffeine.” I’m as pleased as she is to be eating real food again. And by that I mean delicious, fatty, heart attack inducing food. If the future doesn’t have cheeseburgers, the zombies will have won.
After dinner, Jacob gives us a few space blankets. B and I move several yards away from his family, choosing to give them some privacy. Buffy picks a clear section of floor and spreads her blanket out, laughing when Ginger immediately settles herself on it. I stand there awkwardly. I’m thinking that after this morning, B probably wishes she could get some privacy too. “Uh, I’ll just be over there,” I gesture toward an empty corner.
Buffy looks up at me, and I can’t read what she’s thinking on her face. “Don’t be silly,” she says, “I need to check your stitches.”
“They’re fine,” I assure her.
“Faith, sit.”
Okay then. I plop my bag down, piling my blanket on top. I sit down, trying to leave plenty of space between us so I don’t do anything stupid like I did this morning.
Buffy reaches for my shirt, getting ready to pull it up, and then pauses. “Is it okay if I check this out?” She asks.
“Nothing you haven’t seen,” I tell her, lying down on my back.
Her cheeks flush a little pink, and I wonder if that’s good or bad. She could be remembering last night, or she could be wishing a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her. Which is sort of how I feel now that I said that.
Her fingers gently peel back my top, and prod along the pink line in my stomach. “Feels okay?” She asks, and I notice her gaze has drifted to the left, to the other scar I have.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, taking the hem of my shirt and pulling it back down.
She retracts her hand, letting it fall in her lap. Fluffing her pack up to be a pillow, she lays down beside me.
“Do you wanna share my blanket?” I offer, retrieving it from my pack. It’s getting a little chilly in here. B nods, so I spread it over both of us. Ginger settles somewhere around our feet, curling herself into a ball.
It’s quiet from the area where Jacob and Ben are resting. There’s only the gentle hum of the generator and an occasional howl of the wind outside to break the silence. Buffy rustles around, trying to get comfortable. Our packs have cans and water in them; they don’t exactly make good pillows.
After a few minutes of this, I’m ready to smack her. “B,” I say in exasperation, “sit up.”
“Why?” She asks, but she does so.
I shove her pack away, and put my arm in its place. “Lay down,” I instruct. Buffy’s surprised to find my bicep under her cheek, but she doesn’t move away. I curl my arm around her shoulder, holding her loosely. “Is that better?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then she responds. “Yes,” she says simply. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I close my eyes again, intent on getting a lot of sleep before we have to go back to the crappy outside world tomorrow. Beside me, Buffy’s breathing is even and comforting. She’s warm, and her breath tickles my arm gently. After a few moments, she slides closer, her arm draping across my stomach. I’m not about to protest if she wants to get cuddly. There ain’t a whole lot of joy left in the world right now. I’ll take what I can get. My arm tightens around her reflexively. Listening to her breathing, I fall asleep.
XXXXX
We make it back to the hotel without incident. The garage appears deserted when we pull in, but you never know what the shadows may be hiding.
“This is it?” Jacob asks nervously. Ben sleeps in his lap, and Ginger snuggles into his side.
“Home sweet home,” I reply, my eyes scanning the darkness for signs of movement. Buffy kills the engine and steps out, ax already in hand.
I grab my pack, slinging it on to my back as I quietly close my car door. B joins me, and I open the door for our companions.
“Just stay between us,” Buffy orders quietly, when she sees how frightened Jacob is.
He nods, holding Ben close in his arms. B grabs the duffel bag with their belongings and slings it over her shoulder. “Ginger,” she says commandingly, and the dog slinks out to stand at her side.
Leading the way toward the backdoor, Buffy moves quietly and quickly. Nothing attacks us on the way, and for once it seems like we’re getting a break. At the door, Buffy raps hard, three times. The same signal we used in Sunnydale. Footsteps sound on the other side, and the door is pulled open.
Spike looks out at us, surprise written all over his face. “You made it?”
“Hi, Spike,” Buffy greets sarcastically, “great to see you too.”
“Uh, right,” the vamp steps aside. “Come in.” He nods a greeting at Jacob and then sees Ginger striding in after them. Practically licking his chops, Spike remarks, “And you brought dinner!”
I shove past him, letting my elbow land in all the wrong places. “You touch one hair on that dog, you’re dust.”
He sighs as he closes and secures the door. “What’s a man got to do around here to get some fresh food?”
As we reach the lobby, Wesley and Tara come out of the office. They greet us with warm hugs, and Buffy makes the introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Tara says kindly, and then touches Wesley’s arm. “I’ll get Angel.” Something passes in their gaze. Wonder what that was about.
“How were things here?” Buffy asks, as Tara leaves. “Did you guys find the Mohra?”
“Yes,” Wesley says. “We froze the bulk of the blood, and we’ve got some fresh and ready.”
“You killed it?” Buffy asks.
Spike sighs. “Well, I wanted to keep it locked in the basement and hack off an arm every time we needed refreshing, but Angel’s a little squeamish about torture.”
“He made the right call,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes at Spike’s words. “Well, that’s great.”
Spike and Wesley exchange glances. Why is everyone being so tightlipped? “Okay, what’s going on?” I ask.
Wesley looks grave. “There have been some unfortunate developments with the blood. It doesn’t work exactly as we expected.”
Buffy frowns. “What’s that mean?”
“It means we can’t use the blood once the infection’s complete,” Spike says matter-of-factly.
“It doesn’t work on them?” I ask. “Why, is the decay too advanced?”
“No, it heals the body. As good as new,” Wesley answers.
“So what’s the problem?”
Wesley shakes his head. “Once a person dies, their soul moves on. We expected the blood to restore them completely, but evidently, it doesn’t work like that.”
“It’s only meant to regenerate the Mohra,” Spike adds. “And demons don’t have souls.”
Buffy swallows, looking upset. “So the blood can’t restore their souls. How did you find this out?” We’re both hoping that Wesley isn’t going to say they actually used this on someone.
Wesley tilts his head toward the office. “His name is Michael.”
Buffy and I take this in for a moment. Jacob just looks confused.
After a moment, B says, “He’s just walking around the hotel? I mean, is that safe?”
“So far he hasn’t tried to hurt anyone,” Wes replies.
“But you think he will?” I ask.
He nods. “It can only be a matter of time. A human being with no soul has nothing to stop him from acting on his darkest urges. No sense of morality or empathy.”
“Hey,” Spike butts in, offended, “that’s not true of all of us. You humans, always so snotty about your souls.”
“Which is why we’re giving him a chance,” Angels says, arriving with Tara to meet us in the lobby. He steps forward to hug first B and then me. He squeezes me a moment.
“Hey,” I laugh, hugging him hard, “I’m okay, big guy.”
“I know,” he says, embarrassed, and releases me.
Buffy introduces Angel to Jacob and Ben. “Jacob worked for the CDC,” she adds. I can tell by the tone of her voice how pleased she is to point this out. She was right about going to find the kid, and now Angel will have to see it.
Before Angel can respond, Jacob clears his throat. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he says, “but where could my son and I settle in?” I notice now that Ben is sleeping in his dad’s arms, clearly weighing the thin man down.
“Tara,” Angel asks, “would you mind showing them a room?”
Tara agrees, quickly leading our new guests away.
“So,” the vampire says, once they’re gone, “it was a successful trip.”
“Well, Faith almost got eaten,” Buffy tells them, shooting me a smirk.
“Buffy still can’t drive,” I add. “Cordelia’s gonna be pissed when she sees her car.”
Angel blanches.
“What?” I ask. Looking around, I see the rest of the crew looking stricken. “What happened?” My hands and feet feel cold as anxiety washes over me.
“The hotel was breached,” Wesley tells us, forcing his eyes to meet mine.
“Cordelia’s dead?” Buffy asks, already knowing the answer.
Nodding tightly, Angel starts speaking. I hear him add Simone and Mr. Noble to the list of the dead. After that, the rushing of blood in my ears drowns him out.
“Where’s Kim?” I demand. It’s clear that I cut Angel off mid sentence, but I don’t care.
“Faith,” Angel’s voice is gentle and he takes a step toward me.
I step back quickly, knocking into Buffy’s shoulder. “Where is she?”
“I’m so sorry,” Angel responds, dropping his hand. “She’s gone.”
The words echo over and over in my mind, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. “Where is she?” I ask again.
“Faith,” Wesley stands beside Angel, gazing at me with watery eyes. “She’s dead.”
Dead. Dead. She can’t be dead. I shake my head. Distantly, I’m aware of Buffy’s hand on my arm. Dead.
All the anxiety and stress of the past few days suddenly drain away from me. In their place is a feeling I’m all too familiar with. Anger, hot and liquid, rushes through every vein in my body, and the room comes back in to focus. “Where were you?” I ask, with complete calm in my voice.
“We were out looking for the demon,” Angel admits, his eyes doing all the apologizing his mouth hasn’t had a chance to do yet.
All eyes in the room are on me, as I take this information in. Looking for the demon. The two strongest fighters in the room were out looking for a demon, and they left her here unprotected. I left her here. I told her she would be safe here. I told her I’d be back for her.
My vision swims dangerously, and I blink hard, bringing Angel back into focus. Not my fault. His.
“Son of a bitch!” I scream, launching myself at him. Angel tumbles to the ground, with me on top. “This is your fault!” He tries to dodge my flying fists as I pummel his face.
“Faith!” Buffy is shrieking, her arms around my waist as she tries to drag me off. I swat her away like she’s a fly, barely aware of her. I’m completely focused on the bleeding vampire under me. I’ll make him pay. I’ll make him fucking pay. Kim is dead. Dead. Dead dead dead and he let her die.
Buffy’s back, this time grabbing my hips and flinging me off Angel. I leap back to my feet, glaring at her. “Stay out of my way, blondie.”
“No.” She wipes a little blood from the corner of her mouth. “I won’t.”
I try to dodge her, intending to leap on Angel again, but B intercepts me, pinning my arms to my sides. I struggle violently against her, kicking and thrashing. Over the sound of my own shouting, I hear her tell Spike to get Angel out of the room.
“No!” I howl, fighting twice as hard now. “You’re not fucking leaving!”
“Stop,” Buffy commands me, holding on with all her might.
I dig an elbow in her ribs, slam my foot on her instep and viciously throw my head back, trying to crack her fucking skull open. Dead dead dead and gone no more Kim no smiles no singing no frying pans. I keep moving, but Buffy has a vice grip on my arms. Dead things gnawing at her skin as she cries out. Did she call for me? Did she die wondering why I wasn’t here to protect her? Angel’s long gone, but I’m still screaming out obscenities. My face is hot and wet, and finally my limbs fail me, leaving me slumped against Buffy.
Dead.
Buffy’s holding me, and we’re on the cool tile floor. Wesley sits beside us, wiping back his own tears.
Dead and gone and she’s never coming back.
“Shh,” Buffy rocks me in her arms. Blood drips from her nose and into my hair.
Kim’s body, bitten and chewed, her fingertips twitching as they ripped into her.
I hiccup and swallow back the bile in my throat. Buffy smoothes her hand over my tangled hair. “I know,” she says, her hands gentle on my shaking body. “I know."
XXXXX
This is what Lorne saw. I know a lot of people saw the writing on the wall for Kim, and obviously you were right. I did toy with letting her live and wrote a scenario in which that could happen, but ultimately, this one feels best. Well, maybe not to you… :) Thoughts?
Previously in Omega...
The throbbing in my abdomen starts to drift back into my consciousness and I ease myself back against the couch. I touch the wound with my clean hand, relieved to find it still closed.
“You okay?” B asks breathlessly.
“Yeah,” I assure her, “I’m perfect.”
Chapter 15: Losses and Gains
When I wake up, Buffy’s bare toes are poking into my chin. She’s half on top of me, her head resting on my calf. There’s 60 pounds of well-muscled German Shepherd sleeping on my chest, snoring her dog breath right in my face.
“Ginger,” I growl, and the dog lifts one furry eyelid to peer at me. “Off,” I say sternly.
She goes, but not before yawning in my face.
A quiet chuckle comes from the other end of the couch, and I look down to see Buffy smiling at me through her messy hair. “Morning,” she murmurs.
“Hi,” I respond as she pulls herself into a sitting position.
“How’s the uterus?”
“Very funny,” I tell her, letting my fingers run over the bumpy stitches in my skin. “Feels alright.”
“Let me see,” Buffy leans forward to study her handiwork, and I get a nice view down her shirt. She hasn’t put her bra back on. “Yeah, I think you’ll live.” She climbs off the couch, holding her ripped jeans up with one hand. She pads across the room and disappears behind a wall, leaving me alone with the dog.
Ginger’s ears perk up in interest when I unzip my pack. Unfortunately, we’re out of poptarts and I’m just looking for a cleanish shirt. I find a rumpled t-shirt and tug it down over my head. It’s not the freshest, but at least it’s not covered in blood. My abdomen aches a little, but I feel stronger. I’m ready to move on.
B reappears, carrying an unopened box of Cheerios. “Breakfast,” she says cheerfully, holding it out to me. I take it, tearing it open immediately and tossing back a handful. I’m starving.
Buffy rummages in my pack for a moment before she pulls out an extra pair of pants. Without a word, she kicks off her shredded jeans and steps into my pants. They’re a little loose, but manageable.
“Sorry to take your only other pair,” Buffy tells me, “but you kind of ruined my jeans.”
“Uh yeah,” the cheerios stick in my throat a little as I swallow, “about last night…”
Buffy meets my eyes. “It was fun.”
“Well, yeah,” I agree. That’s not in dispute.
Sitting beside me, Buffy lays her hand on my leg.
I look at her curiously, anxious to hear what she’s gonna say.
“Faith,” B uses her gentle voice, “I know you used to have a thing for me. Maybe you still do.”
Well, this is not what I was expecting, but I don’t bother to deny it.
“Things have been so intense… and I really needed someone last night, and you were there for me.” She squeezes my leg softly.
I maintain my exterior calm even though I’m starting to feel vaguely nauseous. “It’s cool. You needed to scratch an itch. I get it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Buffy protests.
“B,” I take her hand and move it off my leg. “It’s okay. You don’t gotta explain.”
Buffy huffs in exasperation. “I’m just trying to say-last night was amazing-I just don’t really know what that means right now.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly, eager to end this conversation. I thrust the cereal box at her. “You should eat something. Gotta get a move on.”
She stares at me for a moment and then accepts the box. “Alright.”
“I’m gonna see how things look outside.” I quickly make my way across the room without waiting for a response. Climbing out the window, I stand on the landing of the fire escape. It’s a beautiful day, warm and sunny. If I just squint over the tops of the nearby buildings, I can almost imagine the world’s still normal. There’s no use in pretending, so I look down to check out the situation on the ground. Only two of the dead are wandering around the street. Looks like the exit is clear, if we make a quick getaway.
The landing creaks behind me as Buffy climbs out the window. She steps behind me, intending to join me at the railing. Without any conscious decision on my part, I find myself turning and grabbing her biceps with both hands. I yank her forward, pressing my mouth against hers.
The truth is that no matter how nonchalant I managed to act in front of her, I feel like she ripped out my heart this morning. I’ve wanted her so long, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to spend one night with her and then act like it never happened.
She lets me pull her flush against me, our breasts crushed together. There’s no great technique to this kiss, no elegance whatsoever; there’s just me kissing her with clear desperation. I’m humiliating myself, but I can’t seem to let go.
Buffy cups my face in her palms, slowing things down.
Getting a hold of myself, I abruptly let go. “Sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry. You don’t want me to kiss you.”
“It’s okay,” B replies, her hands settling on my waist. “I did want you to.” She looks as confused as I feel.
We stare at each other, and I try to understand what she’s thinking and feeling. Try as I might, I’m completely in the dark. As much as I could sit here all day hoping for enlightenment, we’re still the slayers and there’s still a kid who needs us. So I step back, and her soft, small hands fall away from my hips. It’s time to go.
XXXXX
We backtrack to the car, and fortunately, without the allure of the dog, the dead have scattered. With Buffy behind the wheel, we’re soon cruising down the freeway again. Ginger naps peacefully in the backseat, not bothered by the warm Fall air blowing in the window and through her fur.
“How are we gonna find this kid?” I ask out loud, as Buffy navigates the exit for Downey.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I’m hoping we’ll stumble on them, I guess.”
Sounds like a great plan. I’m less excited that I agreed to come on this trip with every passing second. I keep my mouth shut about it. Buffy and I haven’t talked much since we left the apartment. It’s not the most uncomfortable we’ve ever been around each other, but it ranks pretty high up on my list.
B steers us slowly through the streets, and we both keep a look out for anything that would help us find this kid. The town is devoid of people, well, living people anyway. There are zombies dragging themselves around, and the sound of our engine causes them to fix their hungry eyes on us. We go as slowly as we dare, and now Ginger sits up in the backseat, whining softly. I don’t blame the poor thing; she’s gotta be terrified after being trapped in the car yesterday.
The zombies thin out some as we drive out of the residential area. The tree cover is becoming thicker, and I strain to peer through it as we go by. I don’t see how we’re going to run into this kid. It’s not like they’d be stupid enough to just be walking down the street. I’m about to tell B as much when something catches my eye through the trees. “Wait!” I call out, and Buffy slams on the brakes.
“Did you see something?”
“I think so. Can you back up?”
Buffy slowly reverses, crunching over some debris that could easily pop our tires. I wince, but don’t say anything. I’m looking for what I think I saw through a break in the trees.
“There! Do you see that?”
Buffy squints uncertainly. “That building?”
I nod enthusiastically.
“What about it?” Buffy’s confused.
“The panels,” I explain. The whole thing is made of gleaming, white panels.
“I don’t get it.”
Popping open the glove box, I grab Cordelia’s drawing. “Look familiar?”
B takes in what we thought was wood paneling in Cordy’s sketch. “Nice eye,” she compliments.
I shrug, but I can feel my cheeks getting warm. “Think it’s worth a look?”
“Definitely.” She puts the car back in drive.
Up the road a little further, we come to a driveway. A large sign welcomes us to the Columbia Memorial Space Center. I can’t say I feel too excited to visit, what with the bloody handprints smeared along the bottom.
At the entrance, we get out, and I toss Buffy an ax. She catches it easily and wields it like the pro she is. I jiggle the handle of the first door and I’m surprised when it swings open easily. “After you,” I say, holding it open for B.
She holds her weapon at the ready and passes through. I’m close behind her as we move silently through the deserted lobby. Striding to the information desk, Buffy plucks a map from the basket. She looks it over as I keep an eye out for intruders.
“What do you think?” She whispers.
I glance at the map. “Café?”
“I think so, too.” B pockets the map, and we’re moving again. She leads the way, past the flight simulator, a room full of darkened television screens that invites us to watch NASA Live, and half a dozen other dark and deserted exhibits. From the robotics lab, a figure suddenly falls through the doorway. Its hand grapples for Buffy’s ankle, and she brings her ax down through its wrist quickly. Undeterred, the zombie crawls closer, trying to get its mouth to her leg. B rolls her eyes, quickly bringing the business end of her ax to the back of its head.
The zombie goes still, and we step past without missing a beat. When we reach the doors to the café, we find them locked tightly. Applying a little of the old slayer strength, I snap the lock easily. Unfortunately, there’s furniture piled to the ceiling on the other side.
Buffy and I each take a side, quickly moving through the haphazard stack. As we reach the final layer, Buffy touches my arm. “Stay covered,” she tells me quietly, “whoever is on the other side may not like us breaking in.”
“Gotcha.”
We work together to clear a space big enough for a person to slip through. I step through before B can offer to go first. I can hear some scuffling on the other side of the furniture, so I stick one arm through first and wave my open palm. “I’m gonna step in now,” I call out quietly. “I’m not infected and I’m not going to hurt you, so just take it easy.”
There’s no response from the other side, so I have no choice but to go in blind. I slowly emerge from behind the stacked tables and peer into the room.
The boy from Cordelia’s vision crouches under a table, his large, frightened eyes staring up at me.
“Hey,” I say in my friendliest tone, trying to let him see he doesn’t have to be scared. I walk slowly toward him and look under his table. “It’s okay; you can come out.”
A loud click behind me makes me slowly turn away from the kid.
“Get the hell away from my son,” a frightened voice commands me. The boy’s father holds a small pistol, gripping it with both hands, barrel trained on my chest. He’s a slight man, thin and wiry, with round glasses.
I hold my hands up and step away from the table. “Be cool,” I tell him.
“Who the hell are you?” He demands. “How did you get in here?”
I don’t bother answering because Buffy pops up beside the man before he notices her movement. In one fluid motion, she brings the side of her hand down on his arm and causes him to lose his grip on the gun. Her arms encircle him before he can go after it.
“Dad!” The little boy flies toward his struggling father.
As his son collides with his legs, the man goes still in Buffy’s arms.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I say reassuringly, nodding at B to release him. “We’re here to help.”
He rubs his neck as Buffy steps back from him. Reaching down, he scoops his child into his arms and holds him protectively.
“Who are you?” He demands, clearly afraid. “Vampires?”
B and I exchange amused glances. “No, definitely not.”
“Then what?”
“I’m Buffy,” B offers, standing beside me. She touches my arm. “This is Faith.”
Social conditioning wins out over desire to appear tough, and the man grudgingly offers his name. “I’m Jacob.” He shifts the little boy clinging to his neck. “This is Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Jacob,” Buffy greets him calmly.
His eyes flick back and forth between us, obviously deciding whether to flee.
“Jake,” I say, drawing his attention to me. “We came here because we were looking for you and your boy.” I slowly reach in my pocket and take out Cordelia’s drawing.
He takes it, staring at the rough sketch of his son. “Where did you get this? Who sent you?”
Buffy takes a deep breath and gives him our story. He’s probably going to think we’re nuts.
“You’re crazy,” he says vehemently, when she’s finished.
“No,” she replies quietly, “I’m not. Look around you, Jacob. The dead are up and walking around. You met real live vampires. Does this really sound so crazy?”
“But why us?” He asks. “What do you want with my son?”
“We don’t know,” I tell him. “We just took the message.”
Trying to keep everyone at ease, Buffy slides her ax into her belt and takes a seat at a nearby table. “Why don’t you tell us a little about your family and maybe it’ll become clearer.”
Hesitantly, Jacob joins her, placing Ben in a chair beside him. I take the last chair and smile at the kid.
He looks back shyly, with the slightest upturn in the corner of his mouth.
“There’s not much to tell,” Jacob smoothes back his curly hair. “We’re from the city. We came to Downey because my parents live here. I thought maybe...” he clears his throat, “maybe we could find them. I didn’t know what else to do.”
B nods sympathetically.
I trust her ability to get to the bottom of it, so I tune them out and make funny faces at the kid. He giggles and then quickly hides his smile behind his hands. I raise my eyebrows at him and mirror his movement.
I can see the smile in his eyes as he wiggles his hand up and down.
I do likewise, still copying him, and he laughs.
Jacob gives me a strained smile when he sees his son actually grinning. Continuing his story, he tells us, “At first, I tried to stay in the city. I worked at the CDC, and my team and I… well, we thought we were getting close to understanding the infection.”
That gets my attention and I look at B. She’s looking right back in surprise.
“It’s not the kid,” she says, and I nod in agreement.
“What do you mean?” Jacob asks.
“I think we were looking for you all along,” B tells him. “Our friend had another vision. There might be a cure for this thing.”
“A cure?” Jacob repeats incredulously.
“Yeah,” Buffy says, smiling widely now. “A cure.”
XXXXX
After getting Ginger and our packs from the car, we decide to spend the night in the café before we head for the Hyperion again. Jacob doesn’t like the idea of getting stuck out there after sundown, and I don’t blame him. It’s obvious he’s been trying to keep things nice and calm for his kid. He’s raided the gift shop, and Ben amuses himself for hours with their loot. He’s got at least a dozen books. Me and Space. Cats Move to Space. Blah Blah Blah Mars. If he gets bored of that, there are shuttle models to build, coloring books of the planets, astronaut action figures, everything a kid could want. Everything outer space themed anyway.
The space center turns out to be pretty good for B and me too. Our host surprises us with a hot dinner. “Pluto burgers,” he informs us, pointing to the menu mounted on the wall. “There’s a back up generator still going. It keeps things frozen, and the stove’s electric too.”
I take a huge, hungry bite. “Why are we in a rush to get back again?” I ask Buffy, not caring if a few crumbs pop from my mouth.
“Something about the fate of the world, sacred calling, yadda yadda,” she answers, digging in to her burger just as happily.
There’s no running water, but there are cold bottled drinks in the refrigerator. “Diet Coke,” Buffy practically moans as she opens it. “Sweet caffeine.” I’m as pleased as she is to be eating real food again. And by that I mean delicious, fatty, heart attack inducing food. If the future doesn’t have cheeseburgers, the zombies will have won.
After dinner, Jacob gives us a few space blankets. B and I move several yards away from his family, choosing to give them some privacy. Buffy picks a clear section of floor and spreads her blanket out, laughing when Ginger immediately settles herself on it. I stand there awkwardly. I’m thinking that after this morning, B probably wishes she could get some privacy too. “Uh, I’ll just be over there,” I gesture toward an empty corner.
Buffy looks up at me, and I can’t read what she’s thinking on her face. “Don’t be silly,” she says, “I need to check your stitches.”
“They’re fine,” I assure her.
“Faith, sit.”
Okay then. I plop my bag down, piling my blanket on top. I sit down, trying to leave plenty of space between us so I don’t do anything stupid like I did this morning.
Buffy reaches for my shirt, getting ready to pull it up, and then pauses. “Is it okay if I check this out?” She asks.
“Nothing you haven’t seen,” I tell her, lying down on my back.
Her cheeks flush a little pink, and I wonder if that’s good or bad. She could be remembering last night, or she could be wishing a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her. Which is sort of how I feel now that I said that.
Her fingers gently peel back my top, and prod along the pink line in my stomach. “Feels okay?” She asks, and I notice her gaze has drifted to the left, to the other scar I have.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, taking the hem of my shirt and pulling it back down.
She retracts her hand, letting it fall in her lap. Fluffing her pack up to be a pillow, she lays down beside me.
“Do you wanna share my blanket?” I offer, retrieving it from my pack. It’s getting a little chilly in here. B nods, so I spread it over both of us. Ginger settles somewhere around our feet, curling herself into a ball.
It’s quiet from the area where Jacob and Ben are resting. There’s only the gentle hum of the generator and an occasional howl of the wind outside to break the silence. Buffy rustles around, trying to get comfortable. Our packs have cans and water in them; they don’t exactly make good pillows.
After a few minutes of this, I’m ready to smack her. “B,” I say in exasperation, “sit up.”
“Why?” She asks, but she does so.
I shove her pack away, and put my arm in its place. “Lay down,” I instruct. Buffy’s surprised to find my bicep under her cheek, but she doesn’t move away. I curl my arm around her shoulder, holding her loosely. “Is that better?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then she responds. “Yes,” she says simply. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I close my eyes again, intent on getting a lot of sleep before we have to go back to the crappy outside world tomorrow. Beside me, Buffy’s breathing is even and comforting. She’s warm, and her breath tickles my arm gently. After a few moments, she slides closer, her arm draping across my stomach. I’m not about to protest if she wants to get cuddly. There ain’t a whole lot of joy left in the world right now. I’ll take what I can get. My arm tightens around her reflexively. Listening to her breathing, I fall asleep.
XXXXX
We make it back to the hotel without incident. The garage appears deserted when we pull in, but you never know what the shadows may be hiding.
“This is it?” Jacob asks nervously. Ben sleeps in his lap, and Ginger snuggles into his side.
“Home sweet home,” I reply, my eyes scanning the darkness for signs of movement. Buffy kills the engine and steps out, ax already in hand.
I grab my pack, slinging it on to my back as I quietly close my car door. B joins me, and I open the door for our companions.
“Just stay between us,” Buffy orders quietly, when she sees how frightened Jacob is.
He nods, holding Ben close in his arms. B grabs the duffel bag with their belongings and slings it over her shoulder. “Ginger,” she says commandingly, and the dog slinks out to stand at her side.
Leading the way toward the backdoor, Buffy moves quietly and quickly. Nothing attacks us on the way, and for once it seems like we’re getting a break. At the door, Buffy raps hard, three times. The same signal we used in Sunnydale. Footsteps sound on the other side, and the door is pulled open.
Spike looks out at us, surprise written all over his face. “You made it?”
“Hi, Spike,” Buffy greets sarcastically, “great to see you too.”
“Uh, right,” the vamp steps aside. “Come in.” He nods a greeting at Jacob and then sees Ginger striding in after them. Practically licking his chops, Spike remarks, “And you brought dinner!”
I shove past him, letting my elbow land in all the wrong places. “You touch one hair on that dog, you’re dust.”
He sighs as he closes and secures the door. “What’s a man got to do around here to get some fresh food?”
As we reach the lobby, Wesley and Tara come out of the office. They greet us with warm hugs, and Buffy makes the introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Tara says kindly, and then touches Wesley’s arm. “I’ll get Angel.” Something passes in their gaze. Wonder what that was about.
“How were things here?” Buffy asks, as Tara leaves. “Did you guys find the Mohra?”
“Yes,” Wesley says. “We froze the bulk of the blood, and we’ve got some fresh and ready.”
“You killed it?” Buffy asks.
Spike sighs. “Well, I wanted to keep it locked in the basement and hack off an arm every time we needed refreshing, but Angel’s a little squeamish about torture.”
“He made the right call,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes at Spike’s words. “Well, that’s great.”
Spike and Wesley exchange glances. Why is everyone being so tightlipped? “Okay, what’s going on?” I ask.
Wesley looks grave. “There have been some unfortunate developments with the blood. It doesn’t work exactly as we expected.”
Buffy frowns. “What’s that mean?”
“It means we can’t use the blood once the infection’s complete,” Spike says matter-of-factly.
“It doesn’t work on them?” I ask. “Why, is the decay too advanced?”
“No, it heals the body. As good as new,” Wesley answers.
“So what’s the problem?”
Wesley shakes his head. “Once a person dies, their soul moves on. We expected the blood to restore them completely, but evidently, it doesn’t work like that.”
“It’s only meant to regenerate the Mohra,” Spike adds. “And demons don’t have souls.”
Buffy swallows, looking upset. “So the blood can’t restore their souls. How did you find this out?” We’re both hoping that Wesley isn’t going to say they actually used this on someone.
Wesley tilts his head toward the office. “His name is Michael.”
Buffy and I take this in for a moment. Jacob just looks confused.
After a moment, B says, “He’s just walking around the hotel? I mean, is that safe?”
“So far he hasn’t tried to hurt anyone,” Wes replies.
“But you think he will?” I ask.
He nods. “It can only be a matter of time. A human being with no soul has nothing to stop him from acting on his darkest urges. No sense of morality or empathy.”
“Hey,” Spike butts in, offended, “that’s not true of all of us. You humans, always so snotty about your souls.”
“Which is why we’re giving him a chance,” Angels says, arriving with Tara to meet us in the lobby. He steps forward to hug first B and then me. He squeezes me a moment.
“Hey,” I laugh, hugging him hard, “I’m okay, big guy.”
“I know,” he says, embarrassed, and releases me.
Buffy introduces Angel to Jacob and Ben. “Jacob worked for the CDC,” she adds. I can tell by the tone of her voice how pleased she is to point this out. She was right about going to find the kid, and now Angel will have to see it.
Before Angel can respond, Jacob clears his throat. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he says, “but where could my son and I settle in?” I notice now that Ben is sleeping in his dad’s arms, clearly weighing the thin man down.
“Tara,” Angel asks, “would you mind showing them a room?”
Tara agrees, quickly leading our new guests away.
“So,” the vampire says, once they’re gone, “it was a successful trip.”
“Well, Faith almost got eaten,” Buffy tells them, shooting me a smirk.
“Buffy still can’t drive,” I add. “Cordelia’s gonna be pissed when she sees her car.”
Angel blanches.
“What?” I ask. Looking around, I see the rest of the crew looking stricken. “What happened?” My hands and feet feel cold as anxiety washes over me.
“The hotel was breached,” Wesley tells us, forcing his eyes to meet mine.
“Cordelia’s dead?” Buffy asks, already knowing the answer.
Nodding tightly, Angel starts speaking. I hear him add Simone and Mr. Noble to the list of the dead. After that, the rushing of blood in my ears drowns him out.
“Where’s Kim?” I demand. It’s clear that I cut Angel off mid sentence, but I don’t care.
“Faith,” Angel’s voice is gentle and he takes a step toward me.
I step back quickly, knocking into Buffy’s shoulder. “Where is she?”
“I’m so sorry,” Angel responds, dropping his hand. “She’s gone.”
The words echo over and over in my mind, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. “Where is she?” I ask again.
“Faith,” Wesley stands beside Angel, gazing at me with watery eyes. “She’s dead.”
Dead. Dead. She can’t be dead. I shake my head. Distantly, I’m aware of Buffy’s hand on my arm. Dead.
All the anxiety and stress of the past few days suddenly drain away from me. In their place is a feeling I’m all too familiar with. Anger, hot and liquid, rushes through every vein in my body, and the room comes back in to focus. “Where were you?” I ask, with complete calm in my voice.
“We were out looking for the demon,” Angel admits, his eyes doing all the apologizing his mouth hasn’t had a chance to do yet.
All eyes in the room are on me, as I take this information in. Looking for the demon. The two strongest fighters in the room were out looking for a demon, and they left her here unprotected. I left her here. I told her she would be safe here. I told her I’d be back for her.
My vision swims dangerously, and I blink hard, bringing Angel back into focus. Not my fault. His.
“Son of a bitch!” I scream, launching myself at him. Angel tumbles to the ground, with me on top. “This is your fault!” He tries to dodge my flying fists as I pummel his face.
“Faith!” Buffy is shrieking, her arms around my waist as she tries to drag me off. I swat her away like she’s a fly, barely aware of her. I’m completely focused on the bleeding vampire under me. I’ll make him pay. I’ll make him fucking pay. Kim is dead. Dead. Dead dead dead and he let her die.
Buffy’s back, this time grabbing my hips and flinging me off Angel. I leap back to my feet, glaring at her. “Stay out of my way, blondie.”
“No.” She wipes a little blood from the corner of her mouth. “I won’t.”
I try to dodge her, intending to leap on Angel again, but B intercepts me, pinning my arms to my sides. I struggle violently against her, kicking and thrashing. Over the sound of my own shouting, I hear her tell Spike to get Angel out of the room.
“No!” I howl, fighting twice as hard now. “You’re not fucking leaving!”
“Stop,” Buffy commands me, holding on with all her might.
I dig an elbow in her ribs, slam my foot on her instep and viciously throw my head back, trying to crack her fucking skull open. Dead dead dead and gone no more Kim no smiles no singing no frying pans. I keep moving, but Buffy has a vice grip on my arms. Dead things gnawing at her skin as she cries out. Did she call for me? Did she die wondering why I wasn’t here to protect her? Angel’s long gone, but I’m still screaming out obscenities. My face is hot and wet, and finally my limbs fail me, leaving me slumped against Buffy.
Dead.
Buffy’s holding me, and we’re on the cool tile floor. Wesley sits beside us, wiping back his own tears.
Dead and gone and she’s never coming back.
“Shh,” Buffy rocks me in her arms. Blood drips from her nose and into my hair.
Kim’s body, bitten and chewed, her fingertips twitching as they ripped into her.
I hiccup and swallow back the bile in my throat. Buffy smoothes her hand over my tangled hair. “I know,” she says, her hands gentle on my shaking body. “I know."
XXXXX
This is what Lorne saw. I know a lot of people saw the writing on the wall for Kim, and obviously you were right. I did toy with letting her live and wrote a scenario in which that could happen, but ultimately, this one feels best. Well, maybe not to you… :) Thoughts?