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The Fire

by Eden Lee Raven

 

 

Rating: R for character death
Note: I just finished watchin' The Air I Breathe n my angsty muse was crackin' me upside the head. So.. sorry. Wait. No I'm totally not. I almost cried to bring you guys this. Suffer mwahahahaaa!

 

 

"What will it take for you to forgive me?"

The words bounced around her head, making her eyes flicker in the early morning light. The sun was barely breaking over the horizon, but she didn't care. She never cared.

The house was silent, non of the potentials turned slayers were stirring yet, but she could hear those from patrol last night tip-toeing through the front door. It wasn't so they didn't disturb the sleeping people upstairs. It was so they didn't disturb her.

She stirred sugar into the mug of coffee and picked it up, along with the glass of milk, and walked softly out the backdoor.

"I already have."

Her words from so long ago rumbled through her mind, like they did every morning. She took the drinks into the backyard and climbed the small hill at the bottom. There was a graveyard up there, the sunlight just brushing the tops of the grave markers.

She paused at the one for Angel. It had nothing but his name and their final goodbye words on it. 'A Good Man'. Because the man she knew was a good man. No matter how his life ended.

They were on a rooftop. Her, angel and Faith. Stood in a triangle, her and Faith staring at the gun in his hand.

"You said you were cookie dough! You said you'd wait for me!" his words were directed at her, the gun all for Faith. And no matter the emotion running through him, his hand was steady. Unwavering.

"And at the time, I meant it." She didn't take her eyes from his face. Slayers were fast, but if he pulled that trigger… if he pulled that trigger she'd never get to her in time.

"So what? Now it's all for her?! She gets cookies and I get what?!" She did't know what to say to him. What he needed to hear to put his gun down. An hour later it was clear there was nothing she could say.

She didn't remember blood being that red.

"Hey." She moved on, hoping to push the memory away for a little while. She put the drinks down and used the cold marble to lower herself to the ground. And then she started talking. About Willow and Kennedy's second child. About scans and due dates. About Xander and his new lady. About everything.

You'd discovered you could always talk to Faith. About everything. About nothing. Her being dead hadn't changed that.

The backdoor squeaked open, but she didn't bother looking to see who it was. It was Xander. It was always Xander. Only he could understand the pain of losing someone you loved deeply, and feel as if you'd never be able to love again.

He didn't say anything, just wrapped a blanket around her and looked at Faiths grave for a little while.

"It's mystical. Obviously." Willow rubbed her eyes with the pads of her fingers before looking up. "What do you wanna do?"

"It's the only piece I have left of her Will." She nodded as if she was expecting that answer. Guess she had to check.

After a few minutes Xander picked up the mug of cool coffee and then slowly poured it onto the grave. It was their morning ritual. She'd talk for a while and he'd come and give Faith her coffee. There was no steam, she's been sat out here a while, like she always was.

"Come on mama." He stood and held his hand out to her, gently pulling her up and tugging the blanket around her belly.

"Xander," his head shot up to look at her in startled wonder. She never spoke when he came to bring her inside. "It's time." He raised an eyebrow and then shoots a wicked grin down to the grave before him.

"Jesus Faith. Can't even let her be on time to give birth to your own daughter?" He rolled his eyes and shook his head, before gently leading her back to the house. To the waiting bag all packet, to the hospital. To the hours of screaming pain that'll all be worth it.

Before the grave was lost to sight she twisted her head and could just make out the words before the door closed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faith Marie Lehane
1982 – 2005
Devoted Wife
Greatly Missed Friend
'She Wasn't The Flame…
She Was The Fire'

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