Faith's eyes shot open. The sound of her pounding heart quickly filled her ears. She reached out with a shaky arm, her hand hitting wide of its target and sending the bottle of vodka off the bedside stand to the floor. "Shit," she murmured as she forced herself up to a sitting position. Peering over the edge of the bed, she found the carpet had at least kept the bottle in one piece. She swivelled herself around as she pulled back the sheets, and she let her legs dangle down to the floor. Her head throbbed painfully at one side as if Buffy's fists continued to drill into her, and she scrunched up her face against every pulse.
They were getting out of control. Three nightmares in a row. Each time she awoke she told herself there couldn't possibly be another one, and yet still another came, each of them worse than the previous, and each one special guest starring an out-for-blood Buffy Summers. Blackness filled the room, the relief that only morning could bring still much too far away, but she knew she couldn't stomach a fourth. She reached out to turn on the lamp and groaned her disapproval as the bright light inflicted further misery upon her head.
It took about all she had just to drag herself to her feet, and then she gingerly made her way across the room, every shaky step doing nothing to soothe her migraine. An oval mirror hung atop of a large chest of drawers, and as she looked into it she found dark bags hung below her barely open eyes. Worse still, the colour of her skin closely resembled that of a long-lived vampire, and she wasn't thrilled that the unattractive combination made her look like a zombie from some 80's black and white horror flick.
Deciding that some night air couldn't possibly make her feel any worse, she pulled out a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans from the top drawer and quickly slipped them on. She didn't make it as far as her jacket, instead finding herself rooted in place the second she turned from the mirror. Her fingers pressed against the wood as she tightly gripped the edge of the drawers behind her. "B?" She blinked her eyes several times, expecting the image in front of her to disappear, but the cold eyes wouldn't go away, and they continued to glare at her from beneath the blonde mane.
"You thought you could escape me. You thought you could get away with the things you've done."
Faith rubbed at her eyes, trying desperately to wake herself up from her hell. "No. This can't be real. You're not real."
"Is that what you told yourself when you killed Finch? When you tried to turn Angel? When you wanted to torture me? Does that make you feel better about yourself, Faith?"
Faith's head weakly moved from side to side. An intense shiver froze the blood in her arms, raising goosebumps up from her skin. "No, I didn't – I never wanted to..." Buffy's accusations continued to echo around inside her head, closing in from all directions, and she couldn't think, couldn't get out the words she needed to say.
"Shall we see how you like torture?" Buffy reached behind her back, her hand reappearing with a long kitchen knife in her hand. Slowly the blade ran across her palm, lightly enough to avoid drawing any blood. She held up the knife, slowly running the side of the blade past her face. Her eyes closed as she breathed in deeply through her nose, opening again only as a loud exhale demonstrated her satisfaction.
"No," Faith uttered again. "Buffy, please."
Buffy took a step forward, and Faith reached behind her, blindly grasping for anything that could help her. Her fingers wrapped around a small, solid object, and she took a quick look at it before throwing it forward hard. Buffy easily ducked the fast moving projectile – a grey elephant statue that wore an inappropriately cheerful smile on its face – and the ornament sailed harmlessly overhead before it noisily shattered into pieces against the far wall, leaving nothing more than a mound of pottery strewn across the floor.
Faith turned back to the drawer, and her fingers raked their way through her clothes, hurriedly pulling and pushing them out the way until she found the object kept hidden below. She took a deep breath to steady herself before grabbing it, and then she turned back to Buffy, holding the dagger out in front of her.
----------
Buffy lay patiently on top of her bed, waiting, in the very same spot she'd taken up since bidding good night to her mother two hours earlier. She kept her eyes wandering across the swirls that patterned the ceiling, not willing to risk falling asleep until she put an end to it – until she knew her mom would be safe again. The fingers on one hand drummed methodically against the mattress, the slow, simple beat almost loud enough to block out the incessant ticking of the nearby clock. The waiting game. For over three years she'd played it on a near nightly basis, but never before had time crawled by so excruciatingly slow. Of course, never before had the stakes been so high, nor the enemy so dangerous.
A loud smash from down the hallway instantly shot adrenaline through her body, and her fingertips tingled as blood pushed its way to her extremities. Faith was making her move. Still dressed, Buffy sprang to her feet and quickly headed out into the hallway. Somehow her mother had beaten her there, and she stood knocking on Faith's door, completely unaware of the danger lurking on the other side. Buffy grabbed her by the arm and firmly yanked her back to safety before she could complain. It had been in the nick of time; the door flew open almost immediately afterward, and Faith charged out from the room, running straight for the stairs.
"Buffy, what's going on?" Joyce asked in alarm, her voice sounding far more awake then her glazed over eyes looked.
"Don't worry, I know what to do."
Wasting no time, Buffy headed straight back to her room, the sound of her mom's slippers sliding across the carpet lagging behind her. She pulled open the wardrobe and dropped to her knees before beginning to rifle through an old, worn bag. Most of her supplies were at college, but she still had some reserves lying around, and it wouldn't take long to find what she needed. Numerous stakes and bottles of holy water were pushed out of the way with urgency, some of them spilling out of the bag on to the floor, before her hand finally wrapped around the crossbow. It may not have been as big or sturdy as the one she kept in her dorm room, but as she loaded it with a single iron-tipped bolt she knew that one well placed shot would still be enough.
"What's that for?" Joyce asked, the pitch of her voice not getting any lower.
"I'll take care of her," Buffy promised with nothing but sincerity. "You'll be safe again." She'd make sure of that. She strode past her mother and rushed her way down the stairs.
"Buffy, stop!" her mother shouted after her as she tried to keep up. "You're not making any sense."
The front door already stood wide open when Buffy took a quick look back, and she found her mother had only made it down the first few stairs. She didn't have time to wait, or to explain; she couldn't let Faith get away. Not this time. She stepped out into the light rain that drizzled harmlessly down from the grey clouds above, her eyes methodically scanning through the darkness as she made her way down the driveway. The rows of street lights running up and down each side of the road offered just enough illumination to make out the surroundings in the distance, and she caught a brief glimpse of movement farther down the road. Without another thought she broke into a sprint, darting up the road as she chased her prey.
----------
Faith didn't stop running until she found herself stood in the middle of the closest cemetery, unsure of what to do or where to go next. She didn't even know what had driven her there in the first place, never having stopped long enough to think up a destination.
She tried to plan, to prepare, but the voices inside her head drowned out every thought she tried to scramble together. Diana and Finch had joined Buffy, the three of them nestled all snug inside her mind. They made it impossible to focus on anything, even for just a few seconds. Somehow they'd escaped, followed her back from her dreams, and they shouted over one another to make themselves heard. They asked the same questions she asked herself daily, demanding answers she could never hope to find.
"Stop it," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips against the sides of her bobbing forehead. "Please, just – just stop." It didn't matter that the rain had continued to get heavier, nor that she began to shiver as her cold, damp clothes clung tight against her skin. Right then she only needed some peace and quiet. A reprieve.
"Faith."
She tensed up as a chill crept down her spine, and it felt like cold fingernails had scraped against the inside of her skin. Slowly, inch by inch, she managed to force herself around. Her fingers fell down the sides of her face as her arms dropped to her sides. "Buffy," she said, barely hearing the sound of her own hushed voice. "I'm sorry."
"This ends now," Buffy said slowly, her voice a menacing growl.
Faith pulled her dagger out from her waistband and held it up between them. "Stop. I won't let you do this," Faith threatened. Unperturbed, Buffy took a step closer. Faith tried to hold her arm steady, but it shook wildly, her knife jittering from point to point.
The crossbow raised and fired without warning, Buffy's vacant expression unchanging as the bolt flew through the air. It didn't have far to travel, but Faith spun her body around instinctively and the projectile grazed past her side, only catching her enough to rip a hole through her t-shirt and remove the top layer of skin. She let out a muted groan, more from the shock of the cold steel against her body than from any real pain, and she was left with no time to properly inspect the damage before Buffy began closing in.
Buffy threw her bow to the floor as she marched forward. Faith shot to life the second she stepped into range, her quick, clenched fist flying straight into Buffy's head. A look of surprise crossed her face as the blow landed hard, and Faith didn't wait to take full advantage. Following up quickly, she kicked out, her foot coming up under Buffy's chin and lifting her head back.
Buffy took a step back to try and recover, but Faith moved quickly to close the gap. She swung her other arm around, but it never made it to its target, holding in place the moment Faith's gaze caught sight of the forgotten knife that sat clutched in her hand. The tip hovered at the side of Buffy's exposed face, no more than an inch away from plunging through soft skin. She swallowed hard as she tried to muster together enough concentration to make a decision.
The hesitation gave Buffy all the opening she needed, and she had plenty of time to aim low, her outstretched leg sweeping around to connect at the back of Faith's ankles. Faith was taken right off her feet, and Buffy wasted no time before bringing her heel down hard. Faith managed to roll herself to safety across the quickly muddying ground, leaving the heel of Buffy's black boot to press into the grass just wide of her face.
As she began to rise she received two quick blows to her cheek before she managed to reach out and shove Buffy away with both hands. From her crouched position she leapt forward into the air, her legs wrapping around Buffy's waist and squeezing tight. Buffy staggered back as she tried to stay upright, and Faith clenched her leg muscles hard, each of them threatening to shatter bones as they constricted.
Buffy stumbled farther, looking ready to tip over at any point until her back pressed against a tree. It provided enough support for her to regain her footing, and she threw herself forward and down, using the momentum to viciously drive Faith's back into the soil. Faith grunted on impact, her back arching up and her knife spinning out from her grasp. She responded by bringing her head up into Buffy's, not once, but twice, before a harsh first knocked her flat to the floor.
Buffy's fist flew into her face time and time again, each blow stinging her cheek and spinning her head to the side. Faith felt the skin split open, her face unable to cope with the flurry of attacks. She felt the blood begin to creep to the surface and ooze out from the fresh wound. Buffy stopped the assault only as her arm stretched out for the nearby knife, and Faith gritted her teeth, forcing herself to block out the pain. Her knee shot up quickly, pressing hard into Buffy's unguarded stomach, and even through the racket of the voices in her head she couldn't miss the sound of the air swooshing from Buffy's lungs. Buffy doubled over, both hands clutching her stomach, and Faith pushed her off to the side before trying to create some distance between them, her nails digging deep into the wet soil as she clawed herself along the ground.
Her grip found its way around the top of a gravestone and her hands played their part in helping her get back on her feet. Leaning her weight against the stone, she scrunched up her face, hoping to push out the dizziness that threatened to topple her right back to the ground. The back of her hand wiped away the blood that trickled out from her nose. Sensing danger, she spun around to find Buffy heading her way once more, and the sudden movement did her head no favours. She had no time to focus on that though; Buffy stalked toward her, knife in hand, her eyes narrowed and predatory. She moved slowly and methodically, her earlier arrogance replaced with caution. Her knees stayed slightly bent, keeping her body low and ready to pounce.
Faith moved around the gravestone, taking several small steps back. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I won't hurt anyone again, I swear. You don't need to do this." Buffy kept coming, offering no response to Faith's pleas, her eyes hard and determined. Faith could do nothing about her constant shivering, her expended energy leaving her with little to withstand the early preview of the worst Winter had to offer. She shook her head, trying once more to make her case heard. "It's different now. I'm not that person anymore. I'm not."
Buffy swung the knife around, and even as Faith took another step back the tip of the blade cut just below her ear, spraying a thin line of blood across her face. The knife came back the other way, and Faith used both hands to stop the attack in its tracks. Buffy punched out with her free hand, relentlessly ramming it into the side of Faith's head with enough force to spin her around. A hard knee followed, landing right into the spine of her back and sending her down onto her hands and knees. She reached around to try and offer some comfort to her back only to find Buffy's boot drill straight into her midsection, lifting her from the ground and flipping her over.
Down on her back, Faith lay still, her breathing fast and harsh as she looked up into the night sky. Black clouds kept the moon hidden from sight, and only a small spattering of stars had managed to find a place to peek out. The rain had harshened considerably, now more closely resembling hail, and the heavy, unforgiving drops pelted ruthlessly against her face. Her eyes squinted as it came down hard and fast, but the cold water still felt refreshing against the aching that worked its way through her body and face.
She made no attempt to escape as Buffy knelt down over her, the imposing figure of the smaller girl blocking off the worst of the rain, and she offered no resistance as Buffy's hand pinned her neck tight against the wet grass. She had nothing left to give; if she couldn't convince Buffy to stop then she had nothing left to fight for. "I'm so sorry," she whispered one last time before letting her eyes close shut, her arms remaining loose by her sides.
Despite the finality of it, all she felt her breathing begin to steady. The inside of her head had quietened, the voices no longer working to tear her apart, each of them seemingly content that they had done their job. The silence helped her to stay calm as she patiently awaited the final strike. She had always known that one day she would pay for her actions. It hurt that Buffy would be the one to deliver the sentence, but in a way it would have felt wrong were it anyone else. Buffy had been the one she'd lashed out at the most, the main target of her anger and frustration, and she knew nobody deserved vengeance more than her.
Trying not to think, or to feel, Faith simply waited. And waited. But nothing came. The hand that wrapped around her neck had not budged an inch, but there had been no surging pain. No knife in her gut. Faith's eyes slowly crept open, and she found Buffy still knelt in place, her hand raised back with the blade of the knife turned down toward her readied victim. Her knuckles were red, her death grip around the handle causing her hand to judder. Water ran down her already soaked hair, soft, harmless droplets falling from the ends onto Faith's face.
Buffy's eyebrows pinched together, and her teeth clenched behind her parted lips. She stayed frozen in position for just one more moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her brow, and then as her hand slid from Faith's throat the knife came down fast, embedding itself right up to the hilt in six inches of soil, barely wide of Faith's exposed neck. Her hand remained on the grip, her entire arm starting to shake as she continued to bury it deeper into the earth.
A small, thin object pierced into the side of her upper arm, and her eyes moved to it immediately. She stared at it for only a matter of seconds before her body went slack, her brow shaped in confusion, and she slumped down on top of Faith, her limp neck hanging her head over the top of Faith's shoulder.
Faith looked at Buffy's still, peaceful face, watching with a confusion of her own for several silent moments before her eyes roamed to the other side. A figure stood nearby, partially hidden behind the curtain of heavy rain. His gun was still raised toward them as he looked down the sight, but as she squinted she could make out just enough of his face to identify him. "Giles?" she said, her worn voice barely able to get out the sound. She felt a sharp sting and looked down to find a dart lodged in the back of her shoulder. With Buffy draped over her other arm she couldn't easily free herself to remove the small projectile. Instead she settled for looking back at Giles, watching as he began to dissolve in front of her eyes. It didn't take long before her entire vision became one giant blur, background and foreground melding seamlessly together. She let her tired body relax as her head fell back against the floor, her eyelids slowly slipping shut.
----------
"Where am I?" Buffy murmured, her eyes blinking open. As her vision started to fall into place the first things she could fully make out were the stationary figures of Willow and Oz, the pair of them stood a short distance away, and as the haze lifted further she recognised Giles' apartment. After trying to stand up she also found herself tied to a chair, her arms held down by her sides. "What's going on?"
"Are you OK?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing soon after. "And, well, you again?"
Buffy looked at her questioningly, and only then did the memories come flooding back to her, each and every detail flashing through her head. Her stomach lurched forward even while the rest of her body remained trapped in place. "Oh God. Faith." Instantly forgetting her current situation, she hurriedly tried to get to her feet, and once again she made it nowhere.
"Don't worry, she's alright," Willow assured her, a held out palm motioning her to calm down. "Giles and Xander are with her now."
"Good," Buffy said, though her voice felt weak and the small slither of relief was far from enough to make her feel any less ill. She looked around in both directions, expecting to see Faith in a similar position but finding nothing. "Wait, with her where?"
Willow's eyes slid over to look at Oz, her mouth forming a glum frown.
"Guys?" Buffy asked as she looked between them, her impatience spearheaded by worry.
"They're at the hospital," Oz said.
Buffy's eyes widened, and she could barely keep herself from gagging.
"But she's going to be OK," Willow added hurriedly. "It was just a precaution."
That didn't make her feel any better. "I need to see her," she said firmly. "Now."
Willow's eyes nervously flicked to Oz and back. "Maybe we should wait a while. I did a cleansing spell on you while you were out, a-and Giles has done the same for Faith, but-"
Buffy tried to force herself free from the constraints, but the arms of the chair were sturdier than expected. "Willow, please," she said, her eyes desperately begging as they looked up at Willow's worried face. She couldn't shake the thought of what she'd done from her head. Of what she'd come so close to doing. Faith was never going to trust her again. Faith was probably never going to look at her again.
After another exchange of glances between Willow and Oz, the two of them reached a silent agreement. They took one arm each as they began to untie the ropes that held Buffy still. As soon as they were loose, Buffy easily pulled away the remaining rope from her stomach and legs, freeing herself to stand. She didn't waste any time, instantly heading for the front door.
"Want us to come with?" Willow asked, the worry in her voice holding in place.
"No. Stay here," Buffy replied without turning around. Her hand clenched tight around the handle on the front door. "Find me something to kill." She pulled back the door to reveal the ongoing downpour, and an angry wind howled its greeting. Without hesitation she stepped out into the growing storm.