PART 11
keep it cool, what's the name of this club? i can't remember but it's alright, alright
Thunder clapped outside and Faith's eyes snapped open. She was moving before even registering that she was awake, attempting to sit up and run at the same time. A heavy weight held her down and panic seized her throat. She gasped for air, her eyes wild as they searched the dim room. Goose flesh crawled up her naked belly and cold sweat broke out under her breasts and armpits.
Her ears were ringing as her eyes took in the bed, the arm thrown across her midsection holding her down, the blonde hair splayed across the pillows. Buffy slept soundly, a peaceful smile on her face. Faith couldn't stop shaking. Fear pounded through her veins with every beat of her heart. She carefully extracted herself from Buffy's grasp and fell to her hands and knees on the carpet beside the bed. She gulped in air, desperate to calm down.
After long minutes with eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, fighting back the bitterness of whiskey and bile, Faith stood on shaky legs. She stumbled to the bathroom across the hall and into the shower. Turning the taps as hot as she could stand them, Faith turned her face into the spray, only then realizing where she was.
Willow's face, in pain and agony, hideous and deformed, drifted across her mind and Faith had to brace her hands against the tiles to keep herself upright. She fell to her knees anyway, dry heaving and sobbing, curling into herself at the bottom of the bathtub until the water began to run cold.
"Fuckin' get a grip," she growled when she could finally breathe again.
She forced herself out of the tub, turning off the taps and grabbing the nearest towel. After hastily drying herself, Faith strode purposefully across the hall and into her borrowed bedroom. She forced her eyes away from the temptation of the warm bed and the naked, warm body within it, covering her own nakedness as quickly and soundlessly as possible.
Her heart tugged in her chest as she walked out the door but she did her best to ignore it. She closed the door softly, resting a hand against the wood for just a brief second, just long enough to close her eyes and open them again, before she made her way downstairs and out the front door.
From her spot on the front porch, Kennedy could make out movement in one of the upstairs rooms, but the house was otherwise quiet. The night itself had stilled as the thunderstorm rumbled past.
Frogs began to chirp, tentatively at first, as if they feared the storm would return.
Dylan groaned at Kennedy's feet, the tranquilizer already beginning to wear off. Kennedy's eyes dropped to Dylan's prone form, took in the muscles twitching beneath the skin of her bare arms, the power held at bay. The power that had decimated the handful of unlucky vampires the pair had sought that very evening.
The grace and poise of the Slayer were gone from Dylan's movements, replaced by the sheer, unrestrained brutality of a warrior built to kill. Kennedy couldn't kid herself into thinking that Dylan could ever be fully tamed, no matter what she had told Buffy. She knew, though, that Dylan was a creature she wanted on her side in a fight.
Blood red irises trained on the door as it quietly creaked open. Dylan growled softly, but couldn't quite raise her head to pose any sort of threat. Kennedy turned her attention from the moonlight reflected on puffy, rain-filled clouds to booted feet and leather-encased legs. Her eyes continued up to take in the tight-fitting halter top and wild, red-rimmed eyes.
Faith could only hold her gaze for a fraction of a second before turning out to the quiet night. Her eyes closed as she tilted her face into the light of the full moon. Tears leaked, unbidden and silent, from the corners of her eyes, dripping down her temples.
Kennedy regarded Faith, watching a change roll over the other Slayer like the storm had rolled over the meadow. Faith cracked her neck and then her knuckles, and without even a glance back strode off the porch and down the steps.
Dylan rose onto her haunches, balancing on her knuckles and swaying slightly with the remnants of the tranquilizer still flowing through her veins. Kennedy's hand tightened involuntarily on the gun lying across her lap. They watched together as Faith climbed into her battered 4Runner and, after a few minutes of fits and starts, drove off to greet the night.
Alcohol burned the back of her throat as Faith slammed down shot after shot. It didn't matter what it was as long as it was free, and as long as it burned all the way down.
She turned from the bar to take in the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The bass thumped under her feet, jarring her knees and making her wet. Her eyes rolled back as her hands found their way up her sides and into her hair.
Her skin felt too tight and her senses too sharp for the amount of burning liquid she'd consumed since walking in the door of this hell hole.
There were demons here.
Some were passing better as humans than others, but none really fell into the deadly threat to humanity category. That was fine by Faith. For that night, they were safe as houses, humans and demons alike content in their mission to get drunk, get out and get laid.
Faith pushed her way from the bar through the throng of sweaty bodies. Her hips swayed to the beat as she allowed hands and bodies to find purchase on her bare skin. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the stifling heat, the smells of booze and sex and blood filling her up until she was one with the crowd.
She wanted nothing more than to forget the warm, naked body she had left behind in her temporary home, and the dreams and memories that assaulted her mind there.
She waited until she was surrounded, hands grabbing from all around her like thieves, taking without asking, before she closed her eyes.
Can't breathe.
Oh God, I can't breathe.
Rough hands pulled at the tight material of her top and she tasted salt water in her mouth. Those hands lewdly groped Faith's breasts, pressing in…
…pressure all around me, pushing in, making it hard to move. My ears are ringing and I can't see. My body feels muted, scratchy, like an old record, like it's not even my body. Suddenly I can see again, everything and nothing all at once.
Strobe lights assaulted Faith's eyes as they snapped open.
Light blinds me but I can see faces of people I never knew but I recognize them just the same. There are voices, drowning out every other sound except a low, deep growl that seems to shake the whole world.
The song changed, and like one huge moving creature, the dancers on the floor surrounding Faith, pressing in from all sides, shifted on their feet to match the new beat. The bass hummed through Faith's body like a new lover, and her head lolled back onto a strong shoulder as new hands found her hips.
The blinding light is quickly replaced with a bitter cold, a blinding heat that sears my skin. I open my mouth to scream but I feel no pain. My gut is churning with fear and something else, and then a face, so hideous and deformed that it's hardly a face floats past my eyes.
Red hair, obviously dyed but still all too familiar greeted Faith's bleary eyes. The exertion of dancing and the fear of the dream that had woken her blending together with the alcohol left her practically breathless.
Her eyes traveled past the traitorous dye job to the gaunt, blue eyes smiling sickly at her from a young and worn-out face. The girl looked like Faith felt: worn out, used up and completely useless. The girl smiled wider at what she interpreted as an appreciative once-over from the dark Slayer. Blue eyes melted into red hair and Faith felt sick.
It laughs; a raucous, bubbling laugh and I want to vomit. Oh, no. No, no, no that can't be her. Can't be. Everything tilts and I'm left spinning out in my own orbit, that laugh still so sweet in my ears and then….
"Fuck, girlie, you're making my cock so hard. I'm gonna fuck you every way I know how and you're gonna be begging me, baby. Fuck, yeah…."
Faith's eyes clenched shut at the rough voice behind her, and she shuddered with revulsion at the unwanted hands violating her most intimate of places.
Oh God and then! Eyes glowing like flames stare back at me out of the darkness, and a laugh, that low, deep down growl of a laugh, as inhuman as anything I've ever witnessed crackles in my ears.
The Slayer moved, quicker than the living dead girl could see, quicker than Mr. Grabby Hands could feel. She was on her back on the floor and he was forced to one knee, clutching his broken wrist, and Faith was stumbling away.
Tears sprung from her open eyes as she tore out of the club and into the humid morning. The sun winked lazily between skyscrapers, struggling to rise in the dense atmosphere. Faith collapsed next to her truck, emptying the alcohol in her stomach and shaking in fear. There was nothing on her mind but getting sober and getting home.
They had to know. Had to know what she had seen.
He was coming.
PART 12
we're afraid of ourselves and each other and the humongous mess that we've made
Buffy wandered down the stairs and through the living room, stepping lightly over the still-sleeping Andrew, in a sleeping bag on the floor. Her eyes swept over Robin lying sprawled across the couch and landed on Giles, slumped over in a chair at the dining table with his arms crossed over his chest, dead to the world.
Sweat trickled down her back in the morning heat, and she wondered briefly how it seemed her entire household was still asleep. She was glad for it, though: being seen in the same clothing she had been wearing the night before, only now much wrinklier, was not high on Buffy's to-do list. Still, after waking up alone in Faith's bed after the night they'd shared, Buffy found she couldn't be bothered to care much about appearances. She heard movement out on the front porch and felt like a stranger in her own home.
She listened as Kennedy gruffly pushed Dylan off the porch and around to the side of the house, the sounds of their scuffling fading as they reached the steps leading down to the basement. The ceiling creaked above her as Buffy stood motionless in the living room. Her face tilted up toward the sound and her eyes fluttered closed.
She imagined it was Dawn waking up and rolling out of bed. Pricking her ears, Buffy could distinctly hear two pairs of feet moving around in her sister's bedroom. Xander. She wasn't particularly surprised, even if she was hoping that her best friend hadn't violated her little sister the way her imagination was telling her he had. Not that she could really judge, considering the person she hadn't woken up with that very morning. With jaw clenched, Buffy sighed out in frustration and tried not to think about where Faith had run off to so suddenly in the middle of the night. Tried not to make any comparisons between her first night with a man and her first night with a woman.
Suddenly the phone rang, the shrill sound jarring Buffy from her thoughts and startling everyone downstairs. Buffy practically tripped over Andrew as he bolted awake, just as Robin jumped to his feet from the couch. Giles started in his chair, grabbing the cordless phone from the table in front of him with impressive speed.
"Summers' residence!" he announced breathlessly. "Yes, this is he. Oh, Miss Harkness! Yes, I – what? Oh, dear…"
Buffy tried to listen to Giles' end of the conversation, but upon realizing it had nothing to do with her, the prophecies, or really anything going on in Ohio, she tuned him out. Robin and Andrew were talking quietly around her as they tidied up their sleeping bags and blankets. Buffy ignored their furtive glances. Dawn and Xander had yet to make an appearance from upstairs, and Buffy had no idea if Vi and Rona were even home.
The rumble of an approaching engine outside stole her attention from the goings-on inside the house. She listened as a door screeched open and slammed shut, and her ears followed booted footsteps from the gravel drive to the kitchen door at the back of the house.
Slowly making her way past Andrew and Robin, past Giles still at the table, Buffy paused for just a moment before pushing open the kitchen door. She rolled her eyes at the sight before her: Faith had her head stuck in the refrigerator, tapping one booted foot to a beat only she could hear. Just as she was about to let loose a tirade of rage at Faith, looking so nonchalant, Buffy noticed the white-knuckled grip of Faith's left hand as it held the refrigerator door open. The scents of fear and adrenaline mingled with stale bar smells, and Buffy realized that that booted foot wasn't tapping to any beat, but to restless nervousness. Words of revulsion and anger died in Buffy's throat, settling into a tremulous lump as Faith suddenly stood up with a carton of leftover Chinese food in her right hand.
"Jesus!" Faith jumped back a step, her unoccupied hand flying to her chest as she tried to avoid dropping the food all over the floor. "You scared the shit out of me, B!"
"Really?" the blonde replied dryly, one eyebrow quirked.
Faith made an attempt at a light smile, but couldn't hold Buffy's steely gaze. She felt that gaze traveling over every inch of her body and could only imagine what it saw: tangled, sweat-slick hair tumbling over bruised and pale arms and dark circles under haunted eyes, to the red raw hickey left under her jaw and the nicotine-stained fingers that had touched the blonde so intimately only a few hours earlier. Moments passed as the Slayers regarded each other in anxious silence. Pieces of conversation drifted in from the other room before either woman spoke again.
"I wouldn't ask it of you, but I really do feel that I'm needed here. It's not an emergency, per se, but some authority is needed to…" Giles was saying as Faith found her voice again.
"Look, B, I –" she started with a sigh.
"I'll drive. I don't have a car, what with the teleporting and all. I'm lucky to have a few changes of clothes with me, but…"
Faith flicked her eyes to the door behind Buffy's shoulder, momentarily distracted by Xander's voice. Just as her eyes found Buffy's again, found that steel so familiar, as every second of that dream came back on her clouded mind and she wanted to scream its horror to the other Slayer, Dawn piped up from the other room.
"I'll drive. I know where Buffy keeps her keys and –"
And Buffy's head was already turning, the rage of a woman scorned shifting in an instant to that of a controlling older sister. She was halfway out the kitchen door before remembering Faith, but when she turned back around, all that was left of the other Slayer was the slam of the screen against the back door frame and the Chinese food carton, discarded on top of the open refrigerator door.
By the time Buffy was sure her car keys were safely in Xander's hands and out of the clutches of her learner's permit-having sister, Faith was long gone. The back porch creaked softly under Buffy's feet as she watched the trees bend to the changing winds. Clouds were rolling back in and the air temperature was steadily dropping. Light rain began to drift down from the sky and the wind chime tinkled above Buffy's head when she saw movement between the tree trunks. Buffy watched until she was sure of what she was seeing and then slowly made her way down the porch steps.
The cool, wet grass on her bare feet had a calming effect on her. She could see Faith now, crouched low among the elm trees. The temperature continued to drop as she weaved her way into the dense thicket. Wind whipped her hair around her face as the sprinkling rain began to soak into her clothes. The scents of wet earth and moss reached her nose, scents of the forest that she still wasn't used to after so many months of living so near to it. She could hear Faith breathing now, heavy; as if the forest was making the sounds outside disappear. She continued slowly on until she was standing only a few feet away from the other Slayer. It was so obvious to her now, outside and away from the commotion of her house that Faith was seriously disturbed by something. Her hair hung limply over her face as she crouched low on her haunches. Her hands hung between her knees; sweat and rainwater dripped from her fingertips.
"You ever go to sleep to dream?"
The question startled Buffy. Faith's voice washed away with the rain as suddenly as it came, and Buffy found herself moving ever closer.
"I used to go to sleep every night, and every night I'd see your face." Faith's head moved just enough so she could peer up at Buffy through her wet strands of hair. She sighed. "You were always in shadow. Guess you were never really there." She smiled and Buffy recognized the terror shining behind Faith's eyes.
The dread and fear cloaking Faith's words washed over Buffy in waves. "Faith?" she whispered, her lips trembling.
With every passing moment, the hairs on the back of Buffy's neck began to stand on end, and she could feel her stomach sinking like a stone. Faith shook her head and stood up, the leather of her pants creaking softly. She strode warily towards the blonde Slayer, stopping only when they were toe to toe. She reached out one pale hand, finding Buffy's fingers with her own. She watched her movements, her brow furrowing as hot tears slipped down her wet cheeks.
"Why weren't you there, B?" Her voice was strangled and raw and she kept her eyes on their hands.
Buffy gripped Faith's fingers, desperate to understand. "Where, Faith? Where wasn't I?" She ducked her head and caught Faith's eyes. She saw a lost little girl there, and moved to comfort her, wrapping her arms tight around Faith's shoulders. The anger she felt upon waking that morning was gone, replaced with desolation and fear as Faith embraced her fiercely.
"You didn't see, you weren't there." Faith was mumbling into her shoulder, and Buffy had to fight her own emotional overload to pay attention. "Was it me?" Buffy's eyes closed as Faith's voice broke.
"Was what you, Faith?" Buffy didn't want to push, but was completely in the dark over what Faith was talking about. Buffy's question, a simple need for clarification in a very one-sided conversation, was too much for Faith and she pushed out of the embrace with a growl.
"Last night, B… last night, God! We shouldn't have – that was… Dylan got it, you know?" Buffy didn't know. Wasn't sure she wanted to. "There wasn't this…" Faith gestured at the space between them.
And suddenly it was perfectly clear to Buffy what Faith was doing. Buffy knew Faith had always been a terrible actress, but she was a great distraction.
"Faith, we need to talk about this," she coaxed, her voice low and even. She kept her eyes on Faith's. "What you and I did… what it meant was not –"
But she couldn't finish. She couldn't have her words thrown back in her face with a cocky smirk. Not this time. She started again, tried a different approach. "Where wasn't I, Faith?" she asked for a second time, stepping back into Faith's personal space.
Faith backed away, her arms up in front of her defensively. She was only able to move a few feet before she backed into the trunk of a young elm, its branches shuddering with the force of impact. Buffy fought to keep her face passive as she stepped forward again, hands finding their place along Faith's hips. She whispered her lover's name and held her gaze. Faith's eyes flashed anger for only the briefest of seconds before tears filled them again.
"You weren't there, B!" she hissed, saliva and rain spraying against her chin. "Willow was… God, B, she's dead but she was there and that awful, awful laugh, and he was there. I don't know who… or what, b-but he's big and he's powerful and he's gonna use her against us."
Confusion etched itself onto Buffy's face. "Who, Faith? Who is he? Where is he?" Her hands gripped onto Faith ever tighter, but she hardly noticed. A flash of horrible red eyes appeared in Buffy's mind, but it slipped away before she could grab hold of it.
"Buffy…" Faith's eyes widened and her gaze drifted behind Buffy's shoulder. Her body shifted, the muscles along Faith's hips tightening and contracting as she moved. Her fingers dug into Buffy's shoulders as she turned her around. Buffy's eyes widened in turn and a gasp escaped her throat.
The forest glowed red all around them, the light seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Faith moved defensively around Buffy, watching the mysterious red glow dance among the trees. It took shape between them, nothing more than a glowing red blob, but whatever it was, was enough to leave Buffy transfixed. She stepped forward and unconsciously raised a hand out.
"Buffy, no!" Faith bellowed, but her cry fell on deaf ears. She tried to move forward to intercept the blonde, but found that she couldn't.
"Faith!" Buffy suddenly moaned, falling to her knees as a wave of nausea rolled through her. She braced herself with one hand on the ground, clutching her stomach with the other.
A chill raced up the back of Faith's neck, her eyes widening in horror as she witnessed that sickly red glow surround Buffy's body and then her own. The scent of blood filled the damp air. Faith could practically taste the syrupy copper on her tongue. She tried again to move forward, to reach the other woman now writhing on the ground, but her legs wouldn't budge. It was as if her limbs were filled with lead. She pushed and pushed against the red and bulging barrier, but to no avail.
Panic seized her, gripping her throat and making her heart race inside her chest as she watched the radiant glow disappear inside of Buffy's body. The rain sizzled on the ground around them. After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, Faith collapsed as the force keeping her away from Buffy disappeared. She half-ran, half-crawled to the blonde, fighting to breathe.
"Buffy!" she cried, shaking the other woman's shoulder roughly. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Her hands shook as she checked for a pulse, for breathing, for any signs of life. Buffy appeared to be unconscious, but thankfully still alive. Faith heaved her up into her arms and took off for the meadow as fast as her trembling legs would carry her. Tears choked her as she ran, and the smell of blood seemed stronger somehow.
Faith swept her eyes over Buffy's prone form, only then noticing the dark stain on her jeans forming between her legs. Her eyes slammed shut and she bit her tongue as hard as she could to muffle a scream. The taste of salt and rust filled her mouth, making her want to retch, but still she pressed on.
Opening her eyes, Faith affixed them to the house in the distance, promising herself that she wouldn't look anywhere else unless absolutely necessary. Buffy felt light in her arms, too light, almost as if she were made of nothing. Her clothes were warm against Faith's bare arms, despite the now-steady rain.
It seemed to take a lifetime, but she finally reached the back of the house. Her shoulder slammed against the door in hopes that she could bust it down. She bounced off of the solid wood, nearly dropping Buffy on the slick porch.
"LET ME IN! SOMEBODY OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" she screamed, her voice breaking in a hoarse sob.
She kicked the door wildly, rattling the frame. She chanced a glance down at the prone woman in her arms, took in the serene look on Buffy's face that seemed so out of place as Faith began to tremble. Faith's head snapped up as Giles wrenched the door open, as the irritation and exhaustion on his face were quickly replaced with alarm. She pushed past him, ignoring the "Dear Lord" he uttered and carried Buffy into the living room and set her on the couch.
Faith stepped back, her legs as stiff and jarring as her hands as they raked back through her wet hair. She didn't hear Giles come up behind her until he was right there, placing a heavy palm on her shoulder.
"Agh! God!" She whirled around, hands out in front of her as she succumbed to the panic flaring in her chest. She glared incredulously at him. "Why are you just standing there? Help her!"
"Faith, you need to calm down and tell me what happened." Giles held his own hands out, hoping to placate the distressed Slayer. He moved cautiously around her, as if moving too fast or too suddenly would put her on the attack. He made a deliberate show of checking Buffy's pulse and breathing, only then noticing the pool of blood seeping onto the couch beneath her.
"I don't need to do jack until you fucking help her!" Faith's hands found their way back into her hair, pulling at her scalp. Giles took one look at her drawn, panicked face and knew he wouldn't get anymore from her than that. He closed his eyes and breathed in, and then he began to move.
"Alright, we need to get her to a hospital. It's not ideal but I'm worried about this bleeding." He bent and picked Buffy up, cradling her in his arms and moving to the front door. He tried his best to keep his voice calm as he turned back to the other Slayer. "Faith, I need to you stay here for when the others come back. They'll need to know what happened and I –"
"Fuck that, Giles, I'm going with you." Defiance blazed into Faith's posture as she hurriedly grabbed her truck key from the front table. Giles sighed heavily, already choosing his battle.
"Have you been drinking?" He leveled his gaze on her, eyebrow raised in condescension. It was just enough to slow her down.
"I…" Her eyes dropped from his as her voice faltered. "I-I had… some, last night, but I –"
"And are you sober now?" he asked coolly.
Faith clenched her jaw, cheeks burning in shame. She wasn't drunk, but she knew what Giles was getting at. "Put her in the back seat," she growled, "and then you can drive. I'll navigate." She stalked out the front door and into the rain, the truck key scraping against the palm of her hand. Giles followed close behind, letting the door shut gently behind him.
The wind chime tinkled above the back door as they sped down the driveway.
PART 13
if i could only lose myself i would lose myself in you
Their breath came in panting bursts as they raced across the meadow. Neither Slayer had felt so carefree in what felt like ages. Plumes of moisture flowed from their mouths, disappearing up and over their heads in the dense atmosphere as they ran.
It seemed the weather was changing every ten minutes: The cool respite of the earlier drizzling rain was long gone now that the sun was at its highest peak. Its garish rays of light were still desperately trying to push through the remaining clouds, making everything outside far too bright.
Rona and Vi weren't bothered by the light or the heat, so focused were they on their own brief respite from the depression that had fallen over their home. Rona laughed out loud as she used her longer legs to her advantage, striding easily ahead of her redheaded partner. Vi wasn't out of the race yet, however, and picked up her own pace, stomping up the front steps and slamming into the door just inches ahead of Rona. It seemed as if the whole house shook as Rona in turn slammed her body against the door seconds later, still laughing.
"You… totally cheated!" she exclaimed with a wide smile.
Vi feigned shock. "What?! No way! You're just too slow." She smiled just as wide as she turned the unlocked doorknob and walked into the house.
They continued to bicker and banter as the walked side by side into the empty kitchen, retrieving glasses from the cabinet in turn, only to jostle for position at the sink to fill said glasses with water.
Rona was victorious in that competition, gulping down the pint of refreshing H2O on a single breath before moving back into the living room. She paused, realizing that while the house had been brimming with people only hours earlier when she and Vi had first left on their run, it was now virtually empty.
"Hey," Vi said as she came up behind Rona, noticing that the other girl was just standing there. She looked around the empty room, feeling the tiny hairs on her arms prick up into goose bumps. "Where is everybody?"
"Dunno," Rona replied with a frown. She moved back into the kitchen and peered through the window, noting the absence of both Faith's 4Runner and Buffy's Blazer.
Vi moved deeper into the living room, only then noticing the dark stain on the couch. The white light streaming in through the window hit the stain just right and Vi realized immediately what it was. She shakily set her glass of water on the coffee table and knelt on the floor. She reached out and touched the still-wet blood with two fingertips, bringing them up to her face slowly, recognizing the scent of it in the stagnant room.
"The cars are gone," Rona announced as she walked back into the room. "Maybe they went out for groceries or something. We are running pretty low on food with the amount of people staying here now, and –"
"Rona," Vi interrupted.
"What?"
Vi stood, showing off her bloodied fingers to Rona with wide eyes. "I think something terrible has happened."
"What? No way, Vi. A little blood on the couch? Maybe Andrew got a nosebleed or somethi –"
"Rona!"
"What?! Why do you keep saying my name like that?"
"This is Buffy's blood," Vi insisted.
"How do you –"
But Vi wasn't listening. "We-we need to find them. Check upstairs, see if it looks like there was a fight, or-or if anything was taken." She moved to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Rona asked with trepidation in her voice.
Vi didn't turn around to answer the question. "I'm going downstairs to see if Kennedy's still here. Maybe she'll know something." She rushed out the front door and across the porch, leaving Rona alone to search the house.
"Great."
Rona sighed, closing her eyes briefly before moving to the stairs. She climbed them slowly, not sure if she wanted to find anyone on the second level of the house or not.
Not sure where either option fell on the luck scale.
She reached the top of the stairs and paused on the landing, listening. She could hear the wind chime on the back porch tinkling softly. She could hear the electric hum of the refrigerator downstairs, but she couldn't hear anything coming from the second floor. Still, she continued on. She searched every room, every place a person could hide in every room, and came up empty-handed.
She moved quickly back downstairs, following Vi's path down to the basement, leaving the front door ajar behind her. All of the jubilation and exhilaration of their morning's excursions were drained away, replaced by the bitter taste of adrenaline, of panic and confusion.
Rona opened the door leading to the basement cautiously. Her every sense was on high alert as she descended the staircase and came to stand next to Vi. Peering into the dark basement, she caught sight of what Vi was staring at: Kennedy sat cross-legged in front of Dylan with her eyes closed, her hands resting on her knees.
"Is she… meditating?" Rona whispered, never taking her eyes from the quiet scene before her.
Dylan peered up at them anxiously from where she was chained against the wall and let out a soft sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whine.
The two Slayers exchanged looks of confusion just as a vehicle pulled up in front of the house. They listened intently, Kennedy and Dylan forgotten, to two pairs of footsteps entering the house above them. The footsteps became louder, more urgent, and soon accompanying voices could be heard, the panic in them evident.
"Buffy?! Giles!" Dawn cried as she stormed into the basement. Xander followed close behind, locking eye with Vi, then Rona as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"They're not here."
All heads turned to the voice. Kennedy stood slowly, stretching out of her mediation as the others stared in shocked silence. Dawn was the first to snap out of it, her panic reaching a crescendo as she stepped in front of the shorter woman.
"What do you mean ‘they're not here'? Where the hell are they?!" she shrieked, tears building in her eyes. "Why is there blood on the couch and why won't you answer me?!"
Xander stepped forward, resting a comforting hand on Dawn's shoulder.
"Kennedy?" He leveled his gaze on the Slayer, waiting for her answer.
"I don't know where they went, but they're not here." Kennedy sighed with a shrug. "They drove off in Faith's truck about an hour ago. Sounded like they were in kind of a hurry." Her eyes skittered away from the group as they all looked on in anger, and just a little bit of horror.
"You DON'T KNOW?!" Dawn stepped forward again, shaking off Xander's hand as her own hands balled into fists at her sides.
Kennedy held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger, alright? I'm just telling you what I heard from down here, I don't know what happened!" she exclaimed without giving any ground.
"Some help you are." Rona muttered.
"Look, everybody just calm down." Xander interjected. "There are better ways, more productive ways of handling this. We're probably over-reacting, but there's gotta be someone we can call, right? Maybe a neighbor saw them or –"
"Buffy's cell!" Dawn gasped, turning to run up the stairs. The others, minus a whining Dylan who was still chained to the wall, followed close behind.
Dawn skidded to a halt as she entered the dining room, spotting the cordless phone on the table. She grabbed it, fumbling slightly as she punched in her sister's cell number. She pressed the phone up to her ear, signaling to the others to be quiet with an index finger over her lips and a wild look in her eyes. All of the research they'd been working on to find more information on all of these prophecies had put Dawn on edge and she wasn't sure she could take yet another crisis. Not after Willow. She barely heard the phone ringing next to her ear as she thought about what she'd do if something had happened to her sister, too.
Five heads turned slowly, simultaneously upwards as the sound of a cell phone ringing upstairs reached their ears. The cordless phone slipped out of Dawn's shaking hands, clattering to the floor as Xander took off at a run.
He took the stairs two at a time, not caring if the others were following him or not. He reached Buffy's bedroom and pulled the little red phone off of her nightstand, scrolling through the call logs as Dawn came into the room after him. She stood on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder and snatched the phone out of his hand when she saw the name he was looking for.
Turning away from the startled look on Xander's face, Dawn hit the green "Send" button on the phone and pressed it against her ear, chewing her thumbnail nervously. It rang once, twice, three times, and Dawn was getting worried that she was going to get a voicemail message she really didn't want to hear when the person on the other end of the line picked up the call.
The mid-day sun mercilessly baked the parking lot of the Cuyahoga Falls General Hospital. The last of the storm clouds had long since evaporated, leaving behind their humidity as an unpleasant reminder. Heat rose in waves off the asphalt of the lot.
Faith's shoulders felt sticky against the glass of the driver's side window of her truck where she was leaning against it. Her bare face and arms were probably getting sunburned, but she tipped her head back and soaked up the rays anyway. She inhaled a last, moisture-filled breath of smoke before stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette and her head swam.
Maybe it was time to quit.
She shifted on her feet and instantly regretted it. Sweat slipped down her back, and her legs slipped and slid inside of her leather pants. She could feel moisture pooling in her socks and grimaced. She glanced back at the temperature-controlled hospital building. She scowled at the automatic glass doors, and the disapproving glares of the nurses beyond them, but decided it was time to head back in anyway.
Peeling herself from the side of the truck to step toward the building, Faith heard a familiar chirp from inside the truck's cab. She hurriedly pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the rusty door, wrenching it open and diving across the front seat to rifle through the glove box.
She found the little blue cell phone under some old napkins and checked the display. Her brows furrowed when she realized that the caller in question was lying upstairs, unconscious in a hospital bed.
She cautiously hit the send button and lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Faith?!"
She immediately pulled the phone away from her ear and almost lost her balance in the process. With her feet firmly back on the baking asphalt, she replied to the shrill voice on the other end of the line.
"Hey, Dawn." She breathed out unsteadily, not sure what to expect out of the conversation.
"Where the hell are you?! Where's Buffy?"
"At the hospital. Look Daw –"
"Which hospital, Faith?! I need details here!"
Faith looked up, squinting in the bright sun to read the name of the hospital above the main emergency entrance. "Cuyahoga Falls General."
"Ughh, frickin' Christ, Faith! Do you know how long it's going to take to get there this time of day? Whatever, we'll deal. Now what the hell happened?" Faith couldn't mistake the venom in Dawn's tone. Buffy's little sister was angry and no doubt terrified.
Faith leaned back against the truck, her pulse beginning to pound in her temples as she struggled to recount the strange and eventful morning.
"I-I don't know… we were talking in the woods, and then this red… glow thing came and it went into her, and the next thing I know, she's on the ground unconscious, and bleeding, and I ran her back to the house and Giles drove us here."
"WHAT?!"
For the second time in the conversation, Faith had to pull the phone away from her ear to avoid the deafening shriek. She almost missed the low battery warning that chirped at the same time.
"How the hell could you let this happen?"
Faith clenched her teeth at the accusation, determined to at least attempt to keep a cool head. She could hear Xander's voice through the connection as her signal dropped in and out, attempting to do the same for Dawn.
"Look, D, can we play the blame game after we figure out if your sis is ok? My battery's about to die, anyway. Wouldn't wanna miss any of it." She mumbled, letting out a shaky breath as she lifted her unoccupied hand to her mouth, nervously chewing on her thumbnail until she tasted blood.
"Fine, whatever, will you just –"
Faith blinked at the sudden silence and brought the phone in front of her face. The display had gone dark, and upon several repeated attempts, the phone wouldn't turn back on: the battery was dead.
"Shit." Faith ran a frustrated hand through her hair.
She could leave. She could get in her truck and go, and she knew it. But she also knew that she wouldn't. She could fool herself into thinking that there was nothing keeping her in Ohio, but there was nothing for her anywhere else, either.
Whether she liked it or not, Faith was right where she was meant to be. She closed her eyes just briefly, and strode back to the hospital entrance with a forced confidence she didn't feel.
Useless.
Impotent.
Out of control.
Rupert Giles felt all of these emotions and more, but still he felt numb. He held her hand, limp and cold in his own as he looked down on her pale face. He wondered how she could look so peaceful when everything inside of him was anything but.
It had been his duty to train her, to prepare her for untold wars against the unholy creatures that roamed the night. In his own mind, he felt it was his destiny to love her and care for her as he did.
He never expected, never intended to have children of his own, but the young woman whose hand he held so tight, her sister, her friends, were his children if they were nothing else. He felt the swell of pride for their successes and accomplishments, and he felt grave responsibility for their failures.
Giles felt a presence in the room behind him and turned his head just enough to see the one that reminded him of his greatest failures as Watcher and pseudo-parent standing in the doorway. He shut his eyes, determined never to look at her that way again.
When he opened his eyes again, she was standing beside him. The scents of stale cigarettes and alcohol-laden sweat permeated the small space they inhabited and Giles had to discreetly wrinkle his nose.
Faith didn't seem to notice.
There was a wariness and weariness that colored her features as she looked down upon her blonde counterpart. Her pulse seemed to jump in her neck to the same rhythm of the beeping of the machines attached by wires and tubes to the blonde on the bed. Giles took this in with a renewed sense of defeat.
Faith didn't look well. Her top clung to her skin in all the wrong ways, nicotine stains were beginning to seep into her fingernails, her hands never seemed to stop shaking anymore, and he wondered how she was taking care of herself, when her last decent meal might have been. When Giles finally found his voice to speak his concerns, it was strained with disuse.
"Faith, would you like to have a seat?"
He stood, awkwardly gesturing to the single chair. He carefully laid a hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense at the intrusion to her silent vigil.
Faith attempted a weak protest, her voice just as rough as his: "The others are on their way. I probably shouldn't…" But she was already letting herself be steered into the chair, already sinking into it.
"I'll just go and see what passes for food in the cafeteria." Giles paused, watching Faith's shoulders hunch, the muscles knotting and the bones protruding under the skin exposed by her flimsy top.
"Would you like something?" He knew the answer was ‘no.'
Her attention to him was already lost. Her hand reached for Buffy's own. As she entwined their fingers together, Giles smiled sadly to himself and backed quietly out the door.
Rain pelted Faith's cheeks. She was wet from head to toe; hair dripping, clothes clinging, but she didn't feel the cold. She blinked and heard a familiar voice.
"Hey Faith."
Dylan stood before her, rainwater dripping down her chin and her long dark hair slicked back.
Faith blinked again, slowly.
Bright blue eyes, twinkling despite the rain, met hers. Faith thought briefly that she should look away, had a dim memory of flinching back in pain and intrusion, but Dylan's friendly smile kept Faith right where she was.
She closed her eyes and felt heat on her face. Her eyes opened to the blinding desert sun and Dylan still standing there. A figure, dark and menacing but so familiar, crouched behind her.
"I know you."
Faith heard her own voice echo across the sand but wasn't sure if she had actually spoken the words. The figure shook its dreadlocked head, looking away from Faith.
"You didn't do this, you know."
Faith lifted her gaze back to Dylan, and saw unfortunately familiar red eyes staring back at her.
"It was written." Fangs protruded from Dylan's mouth, but Faith felt peace seep into her weary bones.
A hand slipped into her own, warm and heavy. Faith looked down at it.
"It was written," Dylan repeated.
Faith brought her eyes back up to her fallen friend and followed her gaze, behind, back over her shoulder. Buffy was there, glowing with life and a power Faith had never felt before.
"I-I didn't mean to…"
"I know, Faith. It's ok." Buffy's voice was soft and calm.
Faith's shoulders sagged, relief flooding her system. She turned again to Dylan, now crouched side by side to the dark figure, the First Slayer, smiling.
"She's right, you know: it isn't your fault. It was written." There was no admonishment in Dylan's tone as it floated to Faith's ears, just a nod back to Buffy and a hint of suggestion.
Faith looked back over her shoulder to the other Slayer, into the bright light and glowing power.
Faith blinked rapidly, her tired eyes straining against the fluorescent hospital lights. She felt a hand on her head, soothing, smoothing down her hair. Slowly lifting herself up, she saw Buffy lying back against the bed, awake and ok. She closed her eyes as Buffy reached down to cup her face in her warm hand.
"Hey." Said in that same soft tone.
Faith smiled just as softly, not noticing as others rushed in the room, talking over each other, scrambling for answers. Their voices were familiar, and comforting, but wholly unnecessary as Faith locked eyes with the blonde on the bed.
Buffy smiled back, her cheeks glowing softly, both Slayers feeling inexplicably at peace.
PART 14
i don't have to answer any of these questions. don't have no god to teach me no lessons
*BOOM!*
The sound of exploding mortar crackled in her ears, the sky erupting in flashes of greens and reds and blues.
Kennedy barely noticed.
The others had all gone to Cleveland to watch the fireworks over the lake, to celebrate Buffy's release from the hospital and to try and inject a little normalcy into their routine. Kennedy was certain that had she given them the chance they would've asked her to come along. Fourth of July just didn't hold the same wonder for her that it used to. Not after the past year.
She sighed and watched the sky.
"I've been having the strangest dreams."
Her audience, held captive on that hot summer's night, didn't respond.
"I know why you did it. And I know I wouldn't be here if you hadn't, but the world would've been better off if you'd left well enough alone."
The trees rustled softly. Kennedy listened, waiting until she heard the telltale gasp and swallowed scream. Red eyes flashed in the light of another of the neighbors' illegal M-80s as Dylan moved on to find another vampire to destroy. Kennedy didn't bother following.
She shifted in the grass to run her hand along cool stone. It reminded her of the rows and rows of markers she had seen at the Arlington National Cemetery on a school trip to Washington, DC. She remembered feeling an overwhelming sadness then at the thought of so many fallen soldiers. She remembered her girlfriend's brother teasing her when he noticed her crying. She had never faced death before.
Kennedy closed her eyes and tried instead to remember red hair and a freckled nose, green eyes and a shy smile.
She couldn't. Not anymore.
"I need to tell you why I left."
Her audience again held silent.
"I've been with a lot of girls, but I never loved any of them. Never fell so hard, except for you." Kennedy blinked, sighed.
"I spent all summer with you, hoping to find my place with you, with the others. I went with you to England to learn how to be a Slayer, but all I was to you was in the way.
"I wasn't her, I couldn't share in the things you were doing with the coven. You had friends and a whole other life without me: I thought it didn't matter, that we could still make it work because what else could we do? But I couldn't just sit back and watch you destroy yourself." Another flash of red and blue above, and Kennedy could hear Dylan tearing through the trees again, the scream of a wild animal echoing through the forest.
"I remember the last time I saw you looking truly happy, before I'd lost you. Andrew had gotten ahold of some bottle rockets, hoping they'd be enough for our little celebration, just the three of us. I remember you sticking your tongue out at Giles for calling us ‘colonials.' You magicked up the fireworks into a huge display just to show off what a ‘colonial' could do."
She paused and looked down at her hands, studied the calluses and scars there. "I spent the rest of the summer with you because I hoped it would get better. I've never been the love-struck romantic type, but with you everything was different. Even when you cheated."
Her hair fluttered around her face and Kennedy swore she could hear a familiar voice on the breeze.
"You didn't think I knew about that, huh? Back when I was a kid, if a girl cheated on me that'd be it, no more, kick her to the curb and be done with her. I had other options then."
She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I thought I could go out, maybe find Faith or Xander or Robin, find other girls and come back and you'd be so proud of me. I got as far as Africa and all I found was a village being terrorized by a demon clan and controlled by a shaman. He was actually a descendant of the Shadowmen, which at first was kinda cool. Found that out after he resurrected me."
The sky crackled above. Whoops and hollers carried through the trees on the wind.
"I wasn't in heaven like she was. At least, I don't think so. Don't really know if I believe in that crap but I know I was done. At peace. The shaman thought differently. He decided that after I killed the last of those demons that the village needed their own personal bodyguard, brought me back. He knew what I was; he thought he could control me, too."
Kennedy looked into the trees, watched Dylan sprint effortlessly among them after her prey.
"You got lucky with her. She told a few of us about it once during training back in Sunnydale, the night you brought Faith back. She told us how lost she was, how numb. I wasn't like that, not at first. I was feral." Like Dylan. "He got a piece of me when I went after him." Her fingertips brushed the raised scar near her mouth. Phantom pain tickled her scalp behind her ear where the wound began.
"I almost had him. I wonder if I'd killed him if I'd've gone back to find you. Would it have mattered to you if I had? Or would you have been addicted and lost like you were with her? Would you have left me on my own like Faith?" Every Slayer has a death wish. "They couldn't tame me but they tried. Magic, torture, whatever. Then the dreams started.
"I feel her sometimes now, that hollow, empty pain. My hands cramp up and I can't breathe. Just the way you left her."
Kennedy paused, swallowed a hot lump of tears. "I can feel what's coming. I think Faith does, too. I can see her sometimes, in my dreams. Buffy doesn't know yet. She's got more important things to do, savior of the world and all." She chuckled, tears leaking slowly from the corners of her eyes.
"She wants you here. Needs you. I think I need you here, too."
Willow Rosenberg
September 25, 1980 – June 24, 2004
Kennedy stood, wiped her eyes and scanned the darkened sky, smelling sulfur in the air. All was quiet, save for the soft scurrying sounds of Dylan and her remaining vampire foes. Kennedy loped slowly into the trees, disappearing among their trunks to pursue her own prey.
She didn't look back.
