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Because Cavemen Have Fire, the Sequel. Chapter 7. (Last chapter!)
So, it turns out that I can write fic when I'm on holiday. I wasn't going to post it until I got home, but when I thought about it a little, I realised that I'll be run off my feet then, so here it is. (Feedback will be devoured and replied to, but there might be a little delay between the two.) As for why it took me two months to write this... Well, the summary finally comes into play. Quite simply I didn't want to write it, even though it works beautifully. You'll see why. (Oh and the quality of the writing is... not so much. Sorry. It didn't like me.) Anyway, to the WIP-avoidy (and all you people out there waiting), here you are!
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh for the throughtful beta, and to adoxerella (she knows why!).
Previous installments of the 'verse here.
Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA. (And Buffy never dated The Immortal.)
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Feedback: Please?
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 7
May 2005
"Buffy - could I have a word?"
"Sure," she smiled, "which one were you thinking of?"
Giles faltered for a moment as 'coward' flashed through his mind, before covering up the discomfort with a polite smile. "Ah. Yes quite. I see your wit is still sharp enough to slay a watcher. If you'd come in?"
He stood aside and let her walk past him into his office, in the process waving goodbye to the young Slayer she'd been chatting to. As he closed the door behind them she fell into one of the comfy armchairs by his desk.
"So what's up? I'm figuring it can't be anything major, since you're not calling a proper war council."
He shook his head as he walked round the desk, before pulling out a drawer and extracting a folder.
"No it's nothing much, to be honest. Just an old case that I thought maybe you - or rather Spike and Angel, if you'd be so kind as to be my messenger - could possibly shed light on. It's a long shot, but..."
He let his voice trail off, wondering if the vampires had ever told her of their meeting down in the archives. He had made a point of avoiding them since, through a discomfort that he knew was cowardly, but that he couldn't shake. Buffy, thankfully, seemed as unwilling to discuss the finer points of their sleeping arrangements as he did, and they generally managed to avoid the topic with great success. As for this particular inquiry, he could easily have asked the vampires himself he knew, but the thought of confronting them again - even with an inquiry as innocuous as this one - filled him with unspecified dread, so instead he had (after many weeks worth of prevarication) decided on going through Buffy, even though it would require a few explanations.
"Go on," she said, he sat down, folder on the desk.
"Did you ever hear of the Phoenix Massacre?"
She thought for a moment. "I don't think so. When are we talking?"
"September - I think you were in Spain at the time, and it was an isolated incident so it's unlikely that you ever saw the report... Long story short, a local businessman - Richard Sherman - was, along with all his guests, murdered during his 50th birthday celebrations. There are photos..."
He opened the file and his hand hovered over the gruesome pile, uncertain, as Buffy held out her hand. "They're... quite graphic," he warned, handing them over, and he saw her flinch as she took in the bloodbath.
"We never found the culprits, although it looks as if either Sherman - or possibly the perpetrators - were planning a ritual sacrifice, judging by the altar. And as you'll see, some of the victims were drained of their blood."
"Vampires?" she asked, and he shook his head.
"No, it wouldn't seem so." He indicated the photos, and she flicked through until she reached the relevant ones. Her swiftly subdued look of pure disgust spoke vividly as she took in the figures strung up by their feet to a chandelier, throats slit.
"Now we know that he was a W&H client, so it's possible that this was some kind of retribution. Of course we tried to pursue this avenue of inquiry, but they're not keen on sharing, as I'm sure you know."
"So what do you want from me - or Spike and Angel rather?"
"Ah." He withdrew a report from the folder. "Like I said, Sherman himself and all his guests were murdered. Locked in with a holding spell as far as we could ascertain. However, his daughter and the staff were taken to safety by two unidentified men. Our local Slayer tried her best to get a description, but all she managed to get out of the witnesses was that they were wearing long dark coats. Now I didn't give much thought to the identity of these men at the time, but with hindsight..."
Buffy nodded. "You think they might know who was behind it?"
"If it was Spike and Angel who were at the scene, I hoped maybe they could help us locate the perpetrators, or at least give us a clue as to who they could be... Angel, certainly, knows a great deal more about W&H's working methods than I or anyone else in the Council..."
"Gotcha," Buffy nodded, and he gratefully handed over the folder. It was a long shot, but he disliked unsolved cases. And they'd mentioned Phoenix that night in the archives...
***
She could smell the dinner even halfway up the stairs, and smiled to herself. How had she ever coped before she had live-in vampires to fuss over her?
When she entered she saw Angel deep in study on the sofa, books piled up on the table in front of him, and heard a happy shout of welcome from the kitchen.
"Giles asked for a favour, by the way," she said, tossing the folder on the table on top of the smallest book pile and leaning in to kiss Angel. "He wondered if you knew anything about this? Bit of a Cold Case kinda deal."
Angel smiled, detaching himself from the tome he was embedded in, and picked up the folder. She turned, shrugging out of her coat, and walked off to hang it up. "Long shot, I know, but maybe you've got some Wolfram and Heart-y background or something? Poor Giles, he's still all embarrassed..."
When she returned from the hallway she saw the folder opened, and Angel with the photos in his hand, frozen in place.
"I know the pictures are... pretty hardcore, but I figured you'd seen worse..." She stopped, uncertain. "Angel? Are you OK?"
Had she accidentally hit on some old trauma? Or maybe he'd known some of the people? Spike (soft curls framing his face and a spatula in his hand) appeared in the kitchen doorway a second later, looking from her to Angel.
"What's the matter?"
Angel finally moved, head turning to meet Spike's eyes, and then spoke, voice flat and emotionless.
"Phoenix."
Spike's face changed instantly. A flicker of something (other) flashed across his features, and for a second Buffy could almost feel her own presence vanish from their minds. Then Spike closed his eyes and let his head fall against the doorway.
"Oh fuck."
"What is it?" she asked, worry shooting through her. Angel didn't answer, and when Spike opened his eyes again his face was carefully expressionless.
"End of the line, pet."
She shook her head. "Enough with the cryptic, talk to me!"
Slowly Angel turned back to her, eyes so dark that she almost shuddered.
"Buffy... If we tell you the truth, it's over."
He had that stubborn look on his face once again, and quiet fury began to take over. 'Not again', she thought, 'We did this already.'
"Tell me," she said, folding her arms and staring them down. They were dictating the rules again, which was beyond infuriating. How often did they have to do this? After everything they'd been through, what difference could Phoenix make?
Then Spike started talking, and her world fell apart.
***
The knock on the door made Faith frown. One, she didn't know who it could be (grab a stake, just in case) and two, who-or-what-ever-it-was was interrupting her viewing of The Simpsons. When she opened the door, however, she was faced with Buffy, a holdall in one hand and the Scythe in the other.
"What's up?" Faith asked, uncertain, because the last time she'd seen that carefully controlled look of heartbreak on her fellow Slayer's face she'd just been thrown out of her own house. And no way in hell Spike and Angel would ever do that. Or maybe something had happened to them...
"I think it's over," Buffy said quietly. "Can I crash here?"
"Sure. It's a bit-" Faith waved towards the not-very-ordered mess, taken aback by this unexpected turn of events (Buffy's little ménage à trois had until now come across as the very definition of bliss), but Buffy just shrugged and walked through the door. "Don't care. Just needed to... get away."
She sank down into the old sofa (a bargain from the bric-a-brac place down the road), the bag by her feet but the weapon still clutched tightly in her hand.
"What happened?" Faith asked, carefully closing the door before clicking off the TV. For a moment Buffy didn't answer, then slowly she put down the Scythe and opened her holdall.
"Did you ever hear about the Phoenix Massacre?" she asked, and Faith nodded.
"Yeah, it was one of Vi's girls who checked it out, and she got pretty freaked out. Majorly gross as far as I remember."
She took the folder that Buffy silently handed her and flicked through it, nodding to herself. Vi's girl had been pretty green still, and - despite having done exceedingly well - Vi had recommended that she take some time off.
Looking up she saw Buffy watching her, then: "It was them."
"Them who?"
"Spike. And Angel. They did it. Giles... Giles thought that maybe they were the ones who'd helped the daughter and the staff escape - and it was. But then they locked all the guests in. And killed them."
"Jeez..." Faith managed, lowering her eyes and focussing once more on the photos. Humans and demons torn to pieces, the floor slippery with blood...
"But- but they were evil, right? He was like a W&H lackey or something..."
"Oh yeah," Buffy said. "Seriously bad news. He was going to sacrifice his daughter for wealth and influence, and the guests were all there to watch."
"So..." Faith prompted, as Buffy didn't continue. "So they deserved it, right?"
"Suppose so. But that's not... that was just an excuse. They didn't have to kill them, but they did anyway - because they wanted to, because they could," she said slowly, bitterly. "And they had fun."
She shook her head, silently, and Faith sat down next to her, carefully stowing the photos into the folder, disappointment like a heavy weight in her chest.
"And that's not even the worst of it..."
"Buffy..." Faith said helplessly, putting an arm around her shoulders, as Buffy stared ahead, clearly not ready to let go of the rigorous control yet, and Faith wondered what was coming. What could possibly be worse?
Finally Buffy turned to her, eyes haunted.
"They're not sorry. 'No regrets', that's how they put it. Apparently-" she faltered briefly, then continued, voice only trembling for a moment, "-apparently the sex was too good."
Faith inhaled sharply, as Buffy buried her head in her hands. There seemed nothing to say, so Faith just kept her hand on Buffy's back, the disappointment turning to shock and disgust. She was the first to acknowledge that fighting made you horny, but this...
For the longest moment Buffy didn't move, but then she slowly lowered her hands, looking at Faith with haunted eyes.
"I don't know anymore, Faith. I thought I knew them, I thought- God, they've shared my bed for half a year..."
She tried to suppress a shudder, but didn't succeed very well. "They told me, of course - told me that I couldn't trust them, but I wouldn't believe it. Never thought that-"
Finally she broke down and Faith could only hold her silently, eyes of their own accord finding their way back to the inauspicious folder, and she wondered what Buffy had said to them. Had she screamed at them, the way Faith wanted to now? Or had she been too hurt?
"What are you going to do? Is it like over over?" she finally asked, once Buffy had calmed down, and Buffy shook her head, lost.
"I don't know... I already miss them, how ridiculous is that? Can I... Can I stay here while I work things out?"
"Sure," Faith replied. "Make yourself at home, girlfriend. But what do I tell... y'know, people?"
"Girlfriend bonding time?" Buffy offered with a weak smile, and Faith nodded.
"Cool. Don't worry about things, I'll make sure you get some peace."
"Thank you," Buffy replied, "Thank you for... just being here. The others wouldn't understand..."
(Thank God we're hot chicks with super powers...)
Faith nodded again. Sometimes they needed that lifeline - someone so much like themselves that they didn't need to explain. Someone whose face they'd worn. Literally.
***
***
Buffy didn't talk much the next few days. Faith took over her training schedule and other duties at the Council, casually telling Giles that Buffy had decided on a brief holiday. Giles, although looking a bit surprised, had not said much. There'd been a minor crisis in China somewhere, and he was run off his feet. As long as the work got done, he wasn't going to kick up a fuss.
After four days of more or less silent contemplation (and one night of dangerous slaying - Faith could tell the cuts were deep, even if Buffy had not done anything except slap some bandaids on them after a shower), Buffy finally seemed to have made a decision. When Faith came home she was standing by the window, looking out, her holdall once more packed and by the door, and the Scythe held in her hand.
She turned as Faith entered, and they watched each other in silence for a moment, then Buffy took a deep breath.
"I'm going back to them."
Faith nodded, wondering what this decision would cost her friend.
"Spike told me once that no matter how much I love them, they'll always be monsters. I didn't understand then. Or maybe I didn't want to face the consequences. I wanted it all - their world and mine. But I can't have that, and I'm choosing them."
For a moment she was silent, and Faith didn't know what to say.
(Are you the Bad Slayer now? Am I the Good Slayer now?)
Her questions must have shown on her face, because Buffy lowered her eyes.
"I know what you're thinking. And I'm not OK with what they did. But I've been thinking, and I worked something out: They're not my responsibility. And they're not human, and never will be, but I... want them. Despite... because of what they are. And I know it's screwed up, but I lost them once, and I... I can't throw away what we have."
Faith held up her hands. "Hey chill - no need to justify yourself to me."
"I think I'm probably trying to justify myself to myself," Buffy replied wryly, before continuing, sombre once more.
"Anyway, I'm going to go see Giles now, hand in my resignation. Figure I can work with Spike and Angel to take down W&H, I know they could do with the help. And I dunno - maybe I could write a book some day. The Insider's Guide to Vampires or something. Something to help the other girls understand what we fight; how... deep it runs."
Her knuckles clutching the Scythe were white, but then she hefted it and walked over to Faith, holding it out.
"Lead them well."
For a moment Faith was completely speechless, frozen in place, and Buffy's hand wavered for just a moment.
"Please Faith..."
"Course, B," she finally said, grasping the Scythe firmly, "but are you sure?"
Buffy nodded. "It's the only way it can work."
Their eyes met, silent understanding between them.
"Be happy," Faith said softly, and a small smile touched Buffy's mouth.
"That's the idea..."
After she'd left, Faith didn't move for a long time.
(It's old. It's strong, and it feels like... like it's mine.)
A whole new life, in the blink of an eye. She held the Scythe tightly, and slowly smiled.
***
No dinner smell this time. No smell at all. But when she reached her door Buffy stopped, leaning into it. She had been worried that - despite her instructions - they would have left, but she could feel them. Closing her eyes she let herself remember Spike's crypt, remembered sensing him everywhere she was. So lost, and yet fighting against the only one who'd found her.
(He's everything I hate. He's everything that... I'm supposed to be against. But the only time I ever feel anything is when...)
Playing with fire, that's what he'd said. Like cavemen. Like she'd sung once. But how could she live without? She should have known, back when Angel had given her a cross (Don't trust me)... Known that this contradiction was what would always draw her in.
So now there would be no more lies, no more hiding. Just the three of them, and the fire...
'I'm not your Saviour,' she thought. 'Your sins are your own to carry. If we kill each other, then so be it. This is my choice.'
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Two demons with human faces; beloved, beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Hers.
She was the girl who loved monsters, but her life wasn't a fairy tale. She kissed them, but the monsters never left, and she'd never have her happily ever after. But she had this.
"I'm back," she said. "And here's how it's going to be."
***
They were always there. She could feel them, sense them, one on each side - like body guards, or loyal servants from times past. Her black shadows. She knew what people said about her, the way the other slayers talked. How her life was a dance with the bizarre and how she was more like a demon than a slayer. How the night was a part of her, how the hunt and the kill and the blood ran deeper in her than the others. And how she shared her life and her bed with two vampires...
But they didn’t understand. And she didn’t care. She’d lived and died and saved the world enough times to do whatever the hell she wanted.
The End
Many, many thanks to
kathyh for the throughtful beta, and to adoxerella (she knows why!).Previous installments of the 'verse here.
Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA. (And Buffy never dated The Immortal.)
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Feedback: Please?
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 7
May 2005
"Buffy - could I have a word?"
"Sure," she smiled, "which one were you thinking of?"
Giles faltered for a moment as 'coward' flashed through his mind, before covering up the discomfort with a polite smile. "Ah. Yes quite. I see your wit is still sharp enough to slay a watcher. If you'd come in?"
He stood aside and let her walk past him into his office, in the process waving goodbye to the young Slayer she'd been chatting to. As he closed the door behind them she fell into one of the comfy armchairs by his desk.
"So what's up? I'm figuring it can't be anything major, since you're not calling a proper war council."
He shook his head as he walked round the desk, before pulling out a drawer and extracting a folder.
"No it's nothing much, to be honest. Just an old case that I thought maybe you - or rather Spike and Angel, if you'd be so kind as to be my messenger - could possibly shed light on. It's a long shot, but..."
He let his voice trail off, wondering if the vampires had ever told her of their meeting down in the archives. He had made a point of avoiding them since, through a discomfort that he knew was cowardly, but that he couldn't shake. Buffy, thankfully, seemed as unwilling to discuss the finer points of their sleeping arrangements as he did, and they generally managed to avoid the topic with great success. As for this particular inquiry, he could easily have asked the vampires himself he knew, but the thought of confronting them again - even with an inquiry as innocuous as this one - filled him with unspecified dread, so instead he had (after many weeks worth of prevarication) decided on going through Buffy, even though it would require a few explanations.
"Go on," she said, he sat down, folder on the desk.
"Did you ever hear of the Phoenix Massacre?"
She thought for a moment. "I don't think so. When are we talking?"
"September - I think you were in Spain at the time, and it was an isolated incident so it's unlikely that you ever saw the report... Long story short, a local businessman - Richard Sherman - was, along with all his guests, murdered during his 50th birthday celebrations. There are photos..."
He opened the file and his hand hovered over the gruesome pile, uncertain, as Buffy held out her hand. "They're... quite graphic," he warned, handing them over, and he saw her flinch as she took in the bloodbath.
"We never found the culprits, although it looks as if either Sherman - or possibly the perpetrators - were planning a ritual sacrifice, judging by the altar. And as you'll see, some of the victims were drained of their blood."
"Vampires?" she asked, and he shook his head.
"No, it wouldn't seem so." He indicated the photos, and she flicked through until she reached the relevant ones. Her swiftly subdued look of pure disgust spoke vividly as she took in the figures strung up by their feet to a chandelier, throats slit.
"Now we know that he was a W&H client, so it's possible that this was some kind of retribution. Of course we tried to pursue this avenue of inquiry, but they're not keen on sharing, as I'm sure you know."
"So what do you want from me - or Spike and Angel rather?"
"Ah." He withdrew a report from the folder. "Like I said, Sherman himself and all his guests were murdered. Locked in with a holding spell as far as we could ascertain. However, his daughter and the staff were taken to safety by two unidentified men. Our local Slayer tried her best to get a description, but all she managed to get out of the witnesses was that they were wearing long dark coats. Now I didn't give much thought to the identity of these men at the time, but with hindsight..."
Buffy nodded. "You think they might know who was behind it?"
"If it was Spike and Angel who were at the scene, I hoped maybe they could help us locate the perpetrators, or at least give us a clue as to who they could be... Angel, certainly, knows a great deal more about W&H's working methods than I or anyone else in the Council..."
"Gotcha," Buffy nodded, and he gratefully handed over the folder. It was a long shot, but he disliked unsolved cases. And they'd mentioned Phoenix that night in the archives...
She could smell the dinner even halfway up the stairs, and smiled to herself. How had she ever coped before she had live-in vampires to fuss over her?
When she entered she saw Angel deep in study on the sofa, books piled up on the table in front of him, and heard a happy shout of welcome from the kitchen.
"Giles asked for a favour, by the way," she said, tossing the folder on the table on top of the smallest book pile and leaning in to kiss Angel. "He wondered if you knew anything about this? Bit of a Cold Case kinda deal."
Angel smiled, detaching himself from the tome he was embedded in, and picked up the folder. She turned, shrugging out of her coat, and walked off to hang it up. "Long shot, I know, but maybe you've got some Wolfram and Heart-y background or something? Poor Giles, he's still all embarrassed..."
When she returned from the hallway she saw the folder opened, and Angel with the photos in his hand, frozen in place.
"I know the pictures are... pretty hardcore, but I figured you'd seen worse..." She stopped, uncertain. "Angel? Are you OK?"
Had she accidentally hit on some old trauma? Or maybe he'd known some of the people? Spike (soft curls framing his face and a spatula in his hand) appeared in the kitchen doorway a second later, looking from her to Angel.
"What's the matter?"
Angel finally moved, head turning to meet Spike's eyes, and then spoke, voice flat and emotionless.
"Phoenix."
Spike's face changed instantly. A flicker of something (other) flashed across his features, and for a second Buffy could almost feel her own presence vanish from their minds. Then Spike closed his eyes and let his head fall against the doorway.
"Oh fuck."
"What is it?" she asked, worry shooting through her. Angel didn't answer, and when Spike opened his eyes again his face was carefully expressionless.
"End of the line, pet."
She shook her head. "Enough with the cryptic, talk to me!"
Slowly Angel turned back to her, eyes so dark that she almost shuddered.
"Buffy... If we tell you the truth, it's over."
He had that stubborn look on his face once again, and quiet fury began to take over. 'Not again', she thought, 'We did this already.'
"Tell me," she said, folding her arms and staring them down. They were dictating the rules again, which was beyond infuriating. How often did they have to do this? After everything they'd been through, what difference could Phoenix make?
Then Spike started talking, and her world fell apart.
The knock on the door made Faith frown. One, she didn't know who it could be (grab a stake, just in case) and two, who-or-what-ever-it-was was interrupting her viewing of The Simpsons. When she opened the door, however, she was faced with Buffy, a holdall in one hand and the Scythe in the other.
"What's up?" Faith asked, uncertain, because the last time she'd seen that carefully controlled look of heartbreak on her fellow Slayer's face she'd just been thrown out of her own house. And no way in hell Spike and Angel would ever do that. Or maybe something had happened to them...
"I think it's over," Buffy said quietly. "Can I crash here?"
"Sure. It's a bit-" Faith waved towards the not-very-ordered mess, taken aback by this unexpected turn of events (Buffy's little ménage à trois had until now come across as the very definition of bliss), but Buffy just shrugged and walked through the door. "Don't care. Just needed to... get away."
She sank down into the old sofa (a bargain from the bric-a-brac place down the road), the bag by her feet but the weapon still clutched tightly in her hand.
"What happened?" Faith asked, carefully closing the door before clicking off the TV. For a moment Buffy didn't answer, then slowly she put down the Scythe and opened her holdall.
"Did you ever hear about the Phoenix Massacre?" she asked, and Faith nodded.
"Yeah, it was one of Vi's girls who checked it out, and she got pretty freaked out. Majorly gross as far as I remember."
She took the folder that Buffy silently handed her and flicked through it, nodding to herself. Vi's girl had been pretty green still, and - despite having done exceedingly well - Vi had recommended that she take some time off.
Looking up she saw Buffy watching her, then: "It was them."
"Them who?"
"Spike. And Angel. They did it. Giles... Giles thought that maybe they were the ones who'd helped the daughter and the staff escape - and it was. But then they locked all the guests in. And killed them."
"Jeez..." Faith managed, lowering her eyes and focussing once more on the photos. Humans and demons torn to pieces, the floor slippery with blood...
"But- but they were evil, right? He was like a W&H lackey or something..."
"Oh yeah," Buffy said. "Seriously bad news. He was going to sacrifice his daughter for wealth and influence, and the guests were all there to watch."
"So..." Faith prompted, as Buffy didn't continue. "So they deserved it, right?"
"Suppose so. But that's not... that was just an excuse. They didn't have to kill them, but they did anyway - because they wanted to, because they could," she said slowly, bitterly. "And they had fun."
She shook her head, silently, and Faith sat down next to her, carefully stowing the photos into the folder, disappointment like a heavy weight in her chest.
"And that's not even the worst of it..."
"Buffy..." Faith said helplessly, putting an arm around her shoulders, as Buffy stared ahead, clearly not ready to let go of the rigorous control yet, and Faith wondered what was coming. What could possibly be worse?
Finally Buffy turned to her, eyes haunted.
"They're not sorry. 'No regrets', that's how they put it. Apparently-" she faltered briefly, then continued, voice only trembling for a moment, "-apparently the sex was too good."
Faith inhaled sharply, as Buffy buried her head in her hands. There seemed nothing to say, so Faith just kept her hand on Buffy's back, the disappointment turning to shock and disgust. She was the first to acknowledge that fighting made you horny, but this...
For the longest moment Buffy didn't move, but then she slowly lowered her hands, looking at Faith with haunted eyes.
"I don't know anymore, Faith. I thought I knew them, I thought- God, they've shared my bed for half a year..."
She tried to suppress a shudder, but didn't succeed very well. "They told me, of course - told me that I couldn't trust them, but I wouldn't believe it. Never thought that-"
Finally she broke down and Faith could only hold her silently, eyes of their own accord finding their way back to the inauspicious folder, and she wondered what Buffy had said to them. Had she screamed at them, the way Faith wanted to now? Or had she been too hurt?
"What are you going to do? Is it like over over?" she finally asked, once Buffy had calmed down, and Buffy shook her head, lost.
"I don't know... I already miss them, how ridiculous is that? Can I... Can I stay here while I work things out?"
"Sure," Faith replied. "Make yourself at home, girlfriend. But what do I tell... y'know, people?"
"Girlfriend bonding time?" Buffy offered with a weak smile, and Faith nodded.
"Cool. Don't worry about things, I'll make sure you get some peace."
"Thank you," Buffy replied, "Thank you for... just being here. The others wouldn't understand..."
(Thank God we're hot chicks with super powers...)
Faith nodded again. Sometimes they needed that lifeline - someone so much like themselves that they didn't need to explain. Someone whose face they'd worn. Literally.
(What if she doesn't come back?)
(You and me and the dark; blood calling to blood. That's how the story (always) ends, Lover.)
(You and me and the dark; blood calling to blood. That's how the story (always) ends, Lover.)
Buffy didn't talk much the next few days. Faith took over her training schedule and other duties at the Council, casually telling Giles that Buffy had decided on a brief holiday. Giles, although looking a bit surprised, had not said much. There'd been a minor crisis in China somewhere, and he was run off his feet. As long as the work got done, he wasn't going to kick up a fuss.
After four days of more or less silent contemplation (and one night of dangerous slaying - Faith could tell the cuts were deep, even if Buffy had not done anything except slap some bandaids on them after a shower), Buffy finally seemed to have made a decision. When Faith came home she was standing by the window, looking out, her holdall once more packed and by the door, and the Scythe held in her hand.
She turned as Faith entered, and they watched each other in silence for a moment, then Buffy took a deep breath.
"I'm going back to them."
Faith nodded, wondering what this decision would cost her friend.
"Spike told me once that no matter how much I love them, they'll always be monsters. I didn't understand then. Or maybe I didn't want to face the consequences. I wanted it all - their world and mine. But I can't have that, and I'm choosing them."
For a moment she was silent, and Faith didn't know what to say.
(Are you the Bad Slayer now? Am I the Good Slayer now?)
Her questions must have shown on her face, because Buffy lowered her eyes.
"I know what you're thinking. And I'm not OK with what they did. But I've been thinking, and I worked something out: They're not my responsibility. And they're not human, and never will be, but I... want them. Despite... because of what they are. And I know it's screwed up, but I lost them once, and I... I can't throw away what we have."
Faith held up her hands. "Hey chill - no need to justify yourself to me."
"I think I'm probably trying to justify myself to myself," Buffy replied wryly, before continuing, sombre once more.
"Anyway, I'm going to go see Giles now, hand in my resignation. Figure I can work with Spike and Angel to take down W&H, I know they could do with the help. And I dunno - maybe I could write a book some day. The Insider's Guide to Vampires or something. Something to help the other girls understand what we fight; how... deep it runs."
Her knuckles clutching the Scythe were white, but then she hefted it and walked over to Faith, holding it out.
"Lead them well."
For a moment Faith was completely speechless, frozen in place, and Buffy's hand wavered for just a moment.
"Please Faith..."
"Course, B," she finally said, grasping the Scythe firmly, "but are you sure?"
Buffy nodded. "It's the only way it can work."
Their eyes met, silent understanding between them.
"Be happy," Faith said softly, and a small smile touched Buffy's mouth.
"That's the idea..."
After she'd left, Faith didn't move for a long time.
(It's old. It's strong, and it feels like... like it's mine.)
A whole new life, in the blink of an eye. She held the Scythe tightly, and slowly smiled.
No dinner smell this time. No smell at all. But when she reached her door Buffy stopped, leaning into it. She had been worried that - despite her instructions - they would have left, but she could feel them. Closing her eyes she let herself remember Spike's crypt, remembered sensing him everywhere she was. So lost, and yet fighting against the only one who'd found her.
(He's everything I hate. He's everything that... I'm supposed to be against. But the only time I ever feel anything is when...)
Playing with fire, that's what he'd said. Like cavemen. Like she'd sung once. But how could she live without? She should have known, back when Angel had given her a cross (Don't trust me)... Known that this contradiction was what would always draw her in.
So now there would be no more lies, no more hiding. Just the three of them, and the fire...
'I'm not your Saviour,' she thought. 'Your sins are your own to carry. If we kill each other, then so be it. This is my choice.'
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Two demons with human faces; beloved, beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Hers.
She was the girl who loved monsters, but her life wasn't a fairy tale. She kissed them, but the monsters never left, and she'd never have her happily ever after. But she had this.
"I'm back," she said. "And here's how it's going to be."
They were always there. She could feel them, sense them, one on each side - like body guards, or loyal servants from times past. Her black shadows. She knew what people said about her, the way the other slayers talked. How her life was a dance with the bizarre and how she was more like a demon than a slayer. How the night was a part of her, how the hunt and the kill and the blood ran deeper in her than the others. And how she shared her life and her bed with two vampires...
But they didn’t understand. And she didn’t care. She’d lived and died and saved the world enough times to do whatever the hell she wanted.
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He totally knows it was them who did it.
"They're not sorry. 'No regrets', that's how they put it. Apparently-" she faltered briefly, then continued, voice only trembling for a moment, "-apparently the sex was too good."
I mean, that is kind of fucked up and definitely not how Buffy rolls.
Someone whose face they'd worn. Literally.
YES. Exactly. You sorta planted this idea of Buffy/Faith in my mind and now I want that to be a thing that happens in this verse at some point.
They're not my responsibility. And they're not human, and never will be, but I... want them. Despite... because of what they are. And I know it's screwed up, but I lost them once, and I... I can't throw away what we have."
Well. They kinda are, technically, being vampires and all. Time was, you'd at least put on a show about slaying them if they were actively killing. But that was before the reality of the shades of grey was revealed. IDK BUFFY, DO YOU.
She was the girl who loved monsters, but her life wasn't a fairy tale. She kissed them, but the monsters never left, and she'd never have her happily ever after.
You and your fairy tales.. ;)
YAY THIS WAS SO GOOD.
It got so dark in just the right ways. LOVED this.
Let me know if there's more lurking somewhere... :) :)
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He totally knows it was them who did it.
I swear he had no idea. He was, oddly enough, trying to be helpful.
I mean, that is kind of fucked up and definitely not how Buffy rolls.
See I didn't want to end the story this way. But. I'd written the Phoenix story. And looking at it from Buffy's POV - that could be a deal breaker.
YES. Exactly. You sorta planted this idea of Buffy/Faith in my mind and now I want that to be a thing that happens in this verse at some point.
Um. I'm flattered but the chances are pretty much zero. (Sorry)
Well. They kinda are, technically, being vampires and all. Time was, you'd at least put on a show about slaying them if they were actively killing. But that was before the reality of the shades of grey was revealed. IDK BUFFY, DO YOU.
IT'S ALL COMPLICATED. I was so torn, but this is how it had to go. I've never had a fic do that to me before - demand an ending I didn't want. But there you go...
YAY THIS WAS SO GOOD.
It got so dark in just the right ways. LOVED this.
Let me know if there's more lurking somewhere... :) :)
THANK YOU! And I figured you'd appreciate my brand of darkness... ♥
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Um. I'm flattered but the chances are pretty much zero. (Sorry)
Ahaha I don't mean that you'd write it. I mean that in my head canon it happened in that verse. That's good enough for me. ;)
http://fim.413chan.net/art/src/132177323722-HeadCannon.png
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