It’s just a knife, F. Why are you getting so possessive over it? You see, me, on the other hand, I’m losing my freaking boyfriend. That’s something to get clingy over.

But I’ve got the knife now, and I’m going to use it to save Angel. Funny how things work out, no?

And here we are. Just outside your big fancy apartment, in the middle of the night. You standing on ledge, staring down at me as if you think you’re better than me. Mocking my height. I know my eyes match yours in the venomous hate. And I know this is a fight I will win.

Even when you take everything away from me, I’m still me. But look at you. You can’t even control yourself. If there is actually anyone in there.

Quickly, we trade a few blows, before I spot my chance. I lunge forward with the knife. This close to her, I can feel the heat coming off her body, her charged-up breath, and her hand grabbing mine. Her fingers are digging into my palm a bit.

“Too slow, B,” she snickers, her hand having caught mine, the tip of the knife hovering millimetres away from her gut.

Her kick sends me flying away from her and into the back wall of this balcony. Oh, crap. I dropped the knife. Before I can pick up a pole to counter her with, she’s found the knife and is heading towards me. The bloodlust in her eyes is scary.

Before I know it she’s pinned me to the wall. She thrusts the knife towards me, and it’s like time slows a little. If my gut hurts so much, why does the rest of me feel so numb?

The hate is gone too. She looked shocked for a moment, but now the way she looks is different. It’s a familiar look. 

“Oh god. Buffy? I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m…”

Ground hard. Breathing hard too. Help good. Need it.

“I’m sorry. I’m… B… Buffy?” She asks, as I shakily raise my hand to touch her arm.

“Nine,” I answer back, struggling to get out the words, “one… one...”

“Nine hundred and eleven?” She asks, puzzlement briefly appearing among the panic. “Shit, right. Doctors. Come on B, we need to get you to a hospital.”

She’s trying to sound confident, but I know she’s not. It doesn’t matter. I can barely feel or hear her as she picks me up, slings my arms around her shoulders, and starts running.

“It’s not far from here B, it’ll be quicker if I get you there.”

Her shirt’s wet. But it’s not raining. It’s getting dark out. I’m tired. Sleep good.

*******

There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere. I can’t get it out. It’s all swirling. Is the sink going to stain?

Is she going to be comfortable? Hospital beds usually aren’t. You’d think they would be, seeing that dying people…

I never meant… I didn’t… Fuck, B. Why do we… How did we end up here? I can hear them, you know. Pointing out how guilty I am. How evil. How I’m just a killer. Cold-blooded.

Her blood wasn’t cold. It was warm. Sticky. Now it’s just dry. Dark.

Oh god. What have I done?

*******

Look at her. Lying on the bed. Her nice blonde hair wept off to one side by a nurse. Closed eyes, cheeks pale from blood loss.

She shouldn’t look fragile. I shouldn’t look tough. I want to reach out and hold her hand, tell her it’s all going to be all right, how sorry I am, that I…

“Ms. Lehane?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s me. Is she going to be all right Doctor?”

Reaching out a hand to touch my arm lightly, I think he’s trying to comfort me, or prepare me for the worst, but I flinch.

“It’s hard to say when she’ll be able to leave the hospital,” he answers with a sympathetic look on his face, “but she seems to be doing remarkably well.”

“That’s good to hear, doc.”

“We get an unusually high number of patients at this hospital with blood loss or stab wounds, so I like to think we’ve gotten pretty good at dealing with them. Don’t worry, your girlfriend is in safe hands, and as I said, she’s making a quick recovery.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Don’t say that. It’s wrong. After I…

“Oh, sorry. Is she your sister?” He asks apologetically.

“No!” I almost shout back. Why so many questions? “No. She’s not. Not my girlfriend. Not my sister. She’s… She’s my… Um, it’s, um, complicated.”

“Ah, okay. Do you mind walking me through how you found her? We can do more for her if we have a better idea of what happened.”

More questions. Pointing. Accusing. I’m not. No. I am. I’m a killer. Even to the people I… Oh god, Buffy.

“Miss? I’m sorry, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Here, let’s get you seated somewhere more comfortable. I’ll get someone to bring you some water,” the doc says leading me out of her room, and towards the waiting area.

“Um, no. No, it’s fine,” I say, shrugging him off. “We, we were fighting. And then, she… we… I… I, I need to go.”

I can’t do this. Can’t hear myself talking. Can’t think about it again and again. I can’t look at her.

Storming out of the hospital, and into the cool dark air of the night, I just need to be alone.

No.

I need her.

I need her.

*******

I don’t want to come back here.

The broken furniture, the shattered glass. The memory. The thoughts eating away at me.

But home is where the heart is, right? I sure as hell think my heart’s never going to escape this fucking place. But my clothes are here, and I’ll need to put on some new ones for what comes next. Touch up the makeup a bit too. Get rid of the streaks. Make everything a shade darker.

And I’ll need the knife too.

Isn’t it funny how a little piece of metal can cause so much pain?

*******

As much as I want to go to sleep, I can’t. Everything hurts too much. I can feel it running through my veins, burning me, chilling me, telling me that everything will be alright as soon as it’s over. Making me want an end. But I have to keep fighting. For her. If I can just give her a bit more time, she’ll find a solution.

I feel the bed sink slightly as someone comes and sits next to me. I feel her hand brush my hair, reassuringly. She’s here. That feels better. I need her. Here, with me. She’s the only one who could be.

“Buffy?” I say weakly, opening my eyes to see a blurry figure.

“Wrong girl, big guy,” the figure says, with a low, husky voice. holding up a knife that glints in the firelight.

“In fact, I don’t think she’s much for the whole helping thing anymore. You see,” her dropping to a harsh whisper, “I killed her.”

Everything’s snaps into focus, to see the figure run the blunt side of the knife sensuously down her tongue, tasting the blood.

“Faith,” I growl.

“I figured it would be the right thing to come and tell you,” she continues, grinning evilly, “after all, why let someone suffer, when you know you can make them die alone? With the only thing they’ve ever had torn from them. Isn’t fate cruel?”

In fury, I lash out, knocking the knife from her hands and across the room. She answers me with a punch to the face. Obeying the poison’s burning fire, I get up, ready for one last fight. I guess redemption dies with vengeance, and frankly, I don’t care.

“Ohh, you’re up. Good,” Faith continues taunting, “I like things better when there’s a bit of a struggle. You want me to get shirtless too?”

My answer? A punch to the face, sending her back a few steps. She tries to throw back a left hook, but is too slow. I hit her in her gut, pushing the breath out of her, and quickly move to grab her head. In the split-second before I’m about to snap her neck, I can’t help but notice how exposed her neck is, her typically revealing shirt leaving her defenceless.

Letting it all, the poison, the fury, the hope, consume me, my teeth sink in. I feel the muscle tearing, the vessels opening, and then I feel the warm, sweet taste of blood. I can start to feel the poison fading away, and the energy flooding through me. It tastes good. Feels better. I miss this.

Oh god, what am I doing?

I start to pull back, horrified at myself, but strong hand grabs my hair and pushes me back in, and Faith pushes herself deeper into my arms, letting out a small, pained grunt.

Now, I can’t stop myself. The taste luring my tongue out. The energy tingling through every nerve. The warmth and curves of the body pressed up against mine. The knowledge that the other person is completely and utterly in your thrall. The blood flowing up around the penetrating teeth, connecting the two of us as if there’s nothing else in the world.

And suddenly it’s all over. The body hangs limp and the warmth disappears. The flow fades, calling for me to find another source, the afterglow only a brief anchor in the current.

Buffy's gone. What have I done?

*******

I need to get to Angel. I need to see him. I don’t know what we’re going to do though. If it isn’t already too late.

God, Faith was supposed to be the answer. I was supposed to… Could I really have done it? I need to find her too. Let her know that I’m okay.

Thank goodness for slayer healing. I hate hospitals. Luckily, I was able to sneak out without the doctors noticing. Especially what I felt was enough to wake me from a slightly druggy sleep. It’s never good.

Speaking of hospitals, I’ll need to change my bandages again soon. I can do that at the library, I guess. And it still kinda hurts. I hope I’m back to full strength in time for graduation.

Crap. The Mayor. There’s still all that to deal with. You know, Sunnydale is kinda nice right after dawn. The vamps are hiding away now, you get a nice soft sun peeking through and the streets have all the fresh air. Shame I’m usually asleep now. And then I’m always late for class.

It would be easier to be happier about high school ending if I didn’t have to face another stupid apocalypse. And if Angel wasn’t dying.

I better hurry.

*******

Running through the two red wooden doors and into the dark main room of Angel’s mansion, she’s the first thing I see.

Lying down, sprawled on the floor. The dark hair, slightly tangled, illuminated only by the fireplace, and covering her face.

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Oh god, Faith?” I cry out, sprinting down to the person on the ground.

Having gone down on my knees to get closer, I reach out and brush away the hair, confirming my fear. Taking her hand in one of mine, and running my other softly down her cheek, I can feel the loss. “Why are you so cold Faith?” It’s only when my hand reaches the bottom of her cheek that I notice the two holes in her neck.

And it’s also then that I finally notice the shuddering in the corner.

“Angel!” I cry out again, getting up and running over to him.

“Angel, you’re… You’re safe!” Letting my hand go through his hair, I hug him tightly, and finally the first few tears start to fall. “I thought I lost you. I was scared. What happened?”

He looks at me with a haunted look in eyes, and I know he’s been crying too. “Faith. She… She said she killed you.”

“Why would she…” I stammer back, feeling an wrenching realisation coming over me. “She stabbed me, but… but then she saved me. She saved me. Did she?” I don’t need to finish my question as I run my hand over his lips, feeling the traces of leftover blood. “Why?”

*******

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking the soft fur of the grey cat sleeping next to me. With the sunlight reflecting off the white walls, the place looks nice. And I hear a knock at the door.

Getting up gently so as to not disturb the cat, I go and open the door. It’s who I thought it would be. Standing there with a shy smile on her face, wearing a red and white top which doesn’t even begin to cover her shoulders. She looks nice.

“Hey Faith.”

“Hey B. You gonna let me in?”

“I… I don’t need to. It’s your apartment.”

“Not any more B.”

Oh.

“Um, right. Come in,” I stand aside, and walk with her back to the bed.

“You’ll take good care of her, right Buffy?” She asks, stroking the cat, now purring gently in its sleep.

“Of course.”

“And, the rest of stuff. It’s yours. I dunno what you want to do with it. Probably give it all to some orphanage for blind kids, or something grand and noble like that. But B?”

“Yes?”
“There’s a few things which, it’d be nice if you kept. You can keep my leather jackets: you’d look damn good in them,” she says with a wink and one of her typical grins. I can’t help but smile at that one.

“And then there’s my knife. You know, the one I…” She pauses and closes her eyes for a second, “It might come in handy if you ever have a snake problem.”

“Faith,” I interrupt her, wanting an answer now. I know these dreams don’t always last long. “Why did you? We could have used you.”

“I know you think he’s an evil scumbag B, but he’s not to me. I couldn’t hurt him. And besides, I figure this way you get two for the price of one. So don't get any silly ideas about trying to raise me from the dead or anything. Franken-Faith would be kinda grumpy."

“Faith…”

“I wasn’t done, B. Um,” she continues, blushing slightly, “There’s one more thing. It’s stupid, but there’s a book in the drawer there. Just some old stuff my mum used to read to me when I was a kid. That is, the nights she didn’t end up passed out on the couch in all her drunken glory. Guess it’s a good thing I never had a sister, huh?”

“It’s not stupid. I’m so sorry for how things went between us.” I need to say it. “I don’t know if I would have been able to… But then maybe you’d be in the hospital and you’d have had another chance.”

“Wouldn’t have changed B. Where I was going, no doctor was gonna save me. I guess I was just the Big Bad Wolf. No happily ever after for me, no roses and romance, no sunshine and flowers, no getting the girl. But hey, I might have been able to get those three little piggies for you.”

“Faith…”

“Don’t worry B,” she interrupts me again. “I fucked up. I lost the person I cared about the most because I was too damn stupid to give her a chance. I’m not the first person to not have had a childhood. Not the first person to have gone psycho. Not the first person to meet a bad end. At least it was a vamp, which, you know, being a slayer and all, feels kinda traditional.”

“Never figured you were much one for traditional,” I tease back, to which she rolls her eyes.

“Says the slayer who banged a vamp. There’s a first time for everything, eh? Course, he went all uber-evil on you after that I hear, so maybe not a great first time. But hey, you made it through anyways. And you didn’t destroy the world, so… You’re tough, B. And well, maybe the second will be better.” She wriggles her eyebrow at that, leaving it to me to do the eye-rolling this time.

“That’s how I knew.” I say suddenly. “When you, um, you know… When you did, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked how I felt when I had to kill Angel. That’s when I knew.”

After a moment’s pause, I continue. “And Faith, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, like I said, don’t worry,” she shrugs. “You’ve got a world to save B. I was never worth that.”

After another brief pause during which we just look at each other, she sighs. “Look at the time B, it’s 7:30. Got to get my train.” She waves a little piece of paper she took out of her pocket. “Sunnydale Central Station, Platform 975, huh? Makes sense. Lots of people going where I’m going.” She gives a nervous little laugh, before lifting a hand up to grab mine for a second. “Goodbye B.”

As she turns to leave, I get up and take her hand back, and walk with her to the door, pulling her to a stop just before she walks out.

“Faith… I love you.”

“I love you too Buffy.”

And I kiss her. Softly, but deeply.

And then it’s over, and she’s gone, closing the door behind her.

And then I wake up.

And then the tears come.