by KW Jordan

Rating: NC-17
Note: Set post season 7. Has some relation to the comics, but as always, I put my own twist in it.
Warning: There is drug and alcohol abuse. There's also vamp sex, which could be construed as necrophilia. But we won't go there. Unfortunately, there's also some hetero sex in there too. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It just ain't my thing. Which would be why I don't go into great detail. <shudder>
A/N: I'll warn you ahead of time that the contents of this story may be considered inappropriate for anyone under the age of eighteen. I'm just that kind of person. I like violence, and I like sex--better yet, I like sex between women and sometimes it's rough. If you don't listen to my warning and read this anyway, I don't want to hear about it if you don't like what you find.
Summary: Post S7. The balance between good and evil has been upset and the PtB have set a deal into motion to save their reality that has the potential to have devastating effects on others. They need someone to deal with the fallout, and there's only one Champion left standing.
Visit my site: http://k.w-jordan.tripod.com
Oral's Notes: Song Credits can be found HERE.

Listen to the Music

Prologue: Dirty Little Habits

From the outside, the house was just another abandoned building. It was a two story home with faded and peeling yellow paint with equally dingy and cracked white trimming. The thick dark oak door was cracked and warped and the windows were boarded up. The porch was stained a rusty red passersby avoided questioning.

On the inside, the house was just as neglected as out if not more so. The carpet was soiled and frayed beyond recognition, matching the shape of the wallpaper. Tiles in the kitchen and the bathroom were chipped and discolored, some missing in a few cases. Most of the furniture was broken and irreparable from years of vandals and thieves.

The current occupants had only increased the house's all ready squalid appearance. How long they'd been there was anybody's guess. The neighbors had long since ceased complaining about the loud music and the constant traffic of visitors at night. It wasn't as if the police ever bothered to do anything about it.

Tonight there was only one visitor. Anyone watching as the three housemates escorted the beauty to the house was too wrapped up in her to take notice of the underlying tension and imperceptible glances. Wavy dark brown hair framed an angular face and equally dark eyes stood out from pale olive toned skin. Black leather draped over her legs like her pants were painted on and a black tank top clung to her breasts.

The brunette didn't give a second thought to the shape of the house. She was there for three things and none of them included the décor. The moment the door closed behind them, all she wanted was to get the first thing out of the way. She jerked the blonde that had originally caught her attention at the bar closer and kissed her roughly.

Her hands roamed the blonde's lithe body, pausing to explore any exposed flesh. The coolness of her soon-to-be lover's skin did little to affect the lust burning in her. The only thing she could concentrate on was the soft moans and groans the blonde released. Soon she was removing articles of clothing as they impeded her caresses.

The two males of the group closed in on them to aid in the process, the blond male moving behind their visitor as his darker companion went to the other woman. The brunette paid little attention to them as she finished her task and then she suddenly turned to face the blond male. She leaned closer to nip his bottom lip and then she ran her hand down his bare chest to grasp the large bulge in his jeans.

"Hey there, big boy," She whispered teasingly as she gently squeezed.

He was unable to reply as adept fingers unfastened his pants and then his pants fell down around his ankles. He kicked them off and reached for her so he could return the favor. She backed away and once she was sure she held their attention, she began a slow strip-tease. Her hands caressed own flesh, pausing to circle areas of importance with each article of clothing she removed.

Her tank top drifted to the floor and then she sauntered closer to the others as she ran her fingers through her hair. Then she reached out to caress the dark coffee colored skin of the other male's chest before she leaned up to kiss him deeply. Her tongue probed his mouth and then she left him to give the blond male the same treatment. Small hands gripped her hips and she broke the kiss to turn and find herself in an embrace with the only other female of the group once again.

A predatory smile creased her lips and she dipped to cover the blonde's answering smirk with her own mouth. She tangled her fingers in the silky hair and edged the woman backwards until her knees hit the couch. She tumbled back onto the shredded cushions, bringing them both down. She straddled the blonde's hips and let her hands roam unchecked as the kiss continued.

She fondled the blonde's breast with one hand, teasingly pinching and rolling her nipple until it was achingly hard. The other hand slid downward between their bodies, fingers briefly teasing her bellybutton, drawn to the only part of the blonde exuding heat. Taut thighs parted eagerly and she moved to kneel between them for better access. Her fingers brushed through golden curls to become covered in sticky wetness.

She broke the kiss, panting for breath. She locked eyes with the blonde and grinned as she quickly filled her with three fingers. A loud gasp escaped lips parted in surprise and the woman's eyes squeezed shut as her hips surged forward. She lowered her head to capture her mouth once more and froze a large hand clasped her hip from behind.

Hard, throbbing flesh brushed against her inner thigh and then she felt the tip slide through her wetness. Her hand picked up speed, pounding into the blonde beneath her in response. Then the wide tip was probing at her entrance and she held her breath in anticipation. There was a brief pause and then her eyes rolled back as the man standing behind her slowly slid into her.

"Oh fuck yeah," She muttered as she felt the delicious sensation of being stretched open and filled.

She finished tying her boot laces and then glanced around the room. Particles of dust still floated in the air from the recent Slay. She smirked, though it held less humor than it once would have. They always acted so surprised when she staked them afterwards.

She pulled a sandwich bag from her pocket and gazed at the yellow and white contents for a moment. The second objective was done with and now it was time to move to the third part of her evening. Her forehead wrinkled briefly and then she shook off the odd feeling that had washed over her as she opened the pouch. She reached inside and then removed her hand, a tiny capsule perched between her thumb and forefinger.

She returned the bag to her pocket and then strode to the door she assumed led to the kitchen. Her assumption proved correct, she rummaged through the refrigerator and found what she'd been searching for. She checked the expiration date on the bottle and then smirked as she pried the top off. She popped the pill into her mouth, chased it down with beer and then grimaced at the taste left behind.

She chugged the rest of the beer and then set the bottle on the counter. She clutched the edge of the counter and then gasped as a wave of euphoria washed over her. Then she bit her lip, moaning softly as the sensations continued. Heat, followed by goose bumps, chased over her flesh, leaving the tiny hairs on her body standing on end.

A second wave washed over her, bringing her to her knees on the cold and chipped tiles. Her fingers clenched the counter and a chunk of it broke off in her hand only to be flung across the room. She fell forward onto her hands as giddy laughter tore from her throat. It slowly faded, leaving her feeling slightly manic and invincible.

Tingles ran up her spine causing her to shiver violently as she stood. She retrieved the last two bottles of the now-deceased vampires' beer and sauntered out of the kitchen. With one last look around, she smirked and left. The night was just beginning.

She'd achieved her objective. Now, with her stash boosted by what she'd found in the vampires' home, she could find some real action. She approached the 1984 Harley Davidson ShovelHead she'd parked at the end of the driveway and straddled it. She finished off one of the beers and threw it at the house to shatter against the porch before doing the same with the last.

As the bike roared off, its' rider decided she'd had enough foreplay. She wanted to do some real damage. Her helmet hid the wicked grin that spread across her lips. It had been far too long since she'd done any serious Slaying. That was an error she'd have to correct immediately.

Her drug and alcohol induced high was helping her ignore the reasons she'd been more careful in the last couple of years. There were times that she was grateful to forget, but there were others when she regretted it deeply. Tonight might prove to be one of the latter. At the moment all she could think of was giving into her urges.

Chapter 1: Faithless

"Oh fuck," She moaned as consciousness rushed up to greet her, bringing a pounding headache with it.

She clutched her head in her hands and tried to roll onto her back. Intense pain shot through her side, causing her to tense and cry out. Then she forced herself to relax and slumped back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She took shallow breaths to minimize the movement of her ribs until the pain began to fade to a dull throb.

Tentatively, she shifted to her uninjured side, pausing each time she felt a twinge. She settled down and then gingerly inspected the tan wrap covering her torso. Her fingers brushed her ribs and pain flared, causing her to hiss in response. Her fingers clenched the sheets as she waited for it to pass.

Not broken ribs, She mused. That would cause a different kind of pain. She glanced around, relieved to find that she was at least in her own motel room. There had been far too many times that she'd awoken not knowing where she was.

"I gotta do somethin' `bout this fuckin' headache," She muttered, wincing as even that low utterance caused the pounding to increase.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for it as she pushed up into a sitting position. She leaned back against the headboard, gritting her teeth against the pain. Then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood on weak legs. She wasn't sick now, but who knew what would happen if she moved too quickly.

She paused to catch her balance and then stumbled across the room to the bathroom. As she got closer, a familiar odor grew stronger. Her nose wrinkled in response and she swallowed hard at the mix of stale puke, cigarettes, and booze. It was no wonder she felt so miserable right now if that was any indication of how her night had ended.

She closed the door behind her and then turned to walk over to the toilet. She peered down and then shuddered as she flushed it. She moved to unfasten her pants and hesitated as she finally took notice of the abrasions on her knuckles. It was obvious by the lack of blood that she'd at least taken the time to clean them before passing out.

She shook her head and slid the zipper of her leather pants down. There'd be plenty of time to contemplate her injuries later. After she'd rid herself of the jackhammers in her head. She used the bathroom and then moved to the sink to wash her hands.

Her eyes drifted up from the water rushing over her skin and she froze, wincing at the sight in the mirror. For the first time in two years, she was suddenly aware of just how much of a mess she was. She just wasn't sure how much she really cared.

It wasn't a pretty picture—her skin pale, pupils dilated, eyes bloodshot, and dark bruises beneath them. There were more bruises and several cuts scattered all over, a couple of them even looked as if they'd needed treatment at one point. A thin, raised scar trailed from her left temple to the corner of her mouth and a thicker inch long one dissected her right eyebrow. Those were only the visible marks.

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands off on the threadbare hand towel hanging from a rusted nail in the wall. Then she braced herself for more pain as she slowly removed the wrap around her torso. The long piece of material fell to the floor as she sucked in a harsh breath at the wound revealed. A stitched up gash ran the length of her ribs, dark reddish purple bruising surrounding it.

Her hand hovered, hesitant to touch it. Heat radiated from the reddened, irritated wound. It needed medical care, but as per normal, she didn't have the cash for a doctor. She'd just have to do the best she could with it and hope it was enough.

There were days when she grew tired of everything, moments when she hated herself for surviving. She glowered at her reflection. Those days came all too often lately.

Rupert Giles had always warned that there were consequences for every action. But no one could've foreseen what was to come after the fall of Sunnydale. The activation spell had upset the balance between good and evil. By the time anyone had realized what was happening, it was too late.

Tiny incidents over the span of a year all lead to the biggest catastrophe any of them had ever dealt with. For her, the memories were far too vivid and she spent most of her time hiding from the past. There were things too painful for her to deal with, and far too many regrets that haunted her. It was safer and easier to just ignore it all.

The rest of her time was spent running from the present. She'd been a wanted woman before the balance had begun to right itself. It was just a different set of pursuers with darker intentions now. She sometimes longed for the days spent dodging Slayers and evading tracking spells.

She blew out an irritated breath and twirled the pool cue in her hand as she waited for her turn. She'd only been able to stand resting in her motel room for one day before anxiety set in and she'd had to get out. Still aching and injured, she'd decided on a calmer sort of entertainment than her usual. She wouldn't say that there wouldn't be any trouble because that was just asking for it, but at least it wasn't as likely.

The bar she'd ended up in was just like all the other dives she'd been to lately—smoky, reeking of booze, sweat and God knew what else, and brimming with demons. So maybe she was still tempting fate. But it was better to be here than somewhere she'd be endangering innocents with her presence. She'd been attacked in public by demons one too many times and eventually she'd learned to avoid it as often as possible.

"Yo, make your move," She shouted over the loud music.

The vampire turned from the pool table to glare at her, his eyes flashing yellow. It was obvious her impatience was pissing him off, but she didn't care. She was here to play, not to watch him contemplate his next move. He snorted and turned back to his task.

A couple of minutes later, he finally made his move. The pool cue struck the cue ball, sending it across the table to slam into a solid ball. It veered off course slightly and smacked the side of the table by the pocket he'd been aiming for. He backed off from the table, sneering at her.

"Stop rushing me, bitch."

She lifted an eyebrow at him and closed in on the table. She studied it briefly and then took aim at the cue ball. A few seconds later, two of her striped balls went directly into a side pocket. She straightened and moved around the table to the cue ball.

She took aim once again and then hesitated as the hairs on her nape stood on end. She could feel eyes on her and the tingles running up her spine told her that a demon was standing entirely too close. She stood and turned, spinning the pool cue upright in her grip. She propped it on the floor and leaned on it, studying the demon before her.

He was at most six foot five and could've been mistaken for a human if not for the orange tint to his skin and the ridges running up the center of his bald head. She tilted her head slightly and hooked her right thumb through her belt loop.

"Somethin' I can do for ya?"

"I thought the Slayers were dead," He snarled in a guttural voice.

"Didn't ya know?" She asked. "We have a nasty little habit of not stayin' down."

The jukebox at the back of the room changed tracks and as she recognized the beginning strains of "Awake" by Godsmack, she smirked at the irony. She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and tensed, shifting up over her center of balance. Then she brought her attention back to the demon as he spoke again.

"Maybe I'll just have to remedy that."

"You're welcome to try," She drawled.

He eyed her and then smirked as he backed away. He gestured at someone and then her attention was drawn to movement to her left. Four demons of his same species approached her confidently. She rolled her eyes and then twirled her pool cue before bringing it down hard on the edge of the pool table with a loud crack as it broke.

Wait another minute
Can't you see what this pain has fucking done to me

I'm alive and still kicking

What you see I can't see and maybe
You'll think before you speak

"I just wanted to stay out of trouble for one fuckin' night," She muttered as the demons closed in.

I'm alive. For you
I'm awake. Because of you

I'm alive. I told you
I'm awake swallowing you alive!

Without looking, she threw the top half of the pool stick at the vampire approaching from behind. She heard a grunt as it struck and there was a brief pause as he exploded into dust. Then the demons attacked. She eyed the end of the pool stick and then rolled her eyes as she tossed it away.

She'd rather fight barehanded. She leaped into the air and kicked the first two demons that reached her in the gut. She landed just as the next two arrived and she punched the third in the throat as the fourth caught her arm. Their eyes met briefly and he attempted to twist her arm only to have the maneuver turned around on him.

She twisted until she heard a bone snap and then she released her grip on his elbow as she turned to the next demon. She threw several punches that were blocked and then kicked him in the groin. As he bent over, she slammed his face into her knee and then took hold of his neck. She locked eyes with the main demon as she snapped his neck.

Take another second
Turn your back on me and make believe, that
You're always happy

It's safe to say you're never alive

A big part of you has died and by the way
I hope you're satisfied

An arm wrapped over her upper chest from behind and jerked her backwards. She stumbled into a hard body and paused. Then she snorted and jerked her head back, slamming her head into the bridge of her assailant's nose. He howled, releasing her to bring his hands up to his face.

I'm alive. For you
I'm awake. Because of you

I'm alive. I told you
I'm awake swallowing you alive!

For you, I'm awake
Because of you, I'm alive

I told you I'm awake

She spun and grabbed the vampire by his hair with one hand as the other arm wrapped across his chest to grasp his shoulder. She smiled grimly and tugged in opposite directions with all her strength. There was a brief moment of silence except for the music in which the snap of bones could be heard and then skin gave way. She dropped his head and the vampire turned to dust before his body could hit the floor.

Tearing it back unveiling me
Taking a step back so I can breathe

Hear the silence about to break
Fear resistance when I'm awake

Tearing it back unveiling me
Taking a step back so I can breathe

Hear the silence about to break
Fear resistance when I'm awake

There was movement to her left just before three more demons came. They tackled her to the ground, each grappling for a hold on her. She hit the ground and the air rushed out of her. She lay there stunned for long seconds as spots danced before her eyes.

For a frightening moment she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, as she struggled. Then clarity came as the demons pinned her to the floor. She considered giving in, accepting the relief death offered, and then she snarled. If she was going out, it would be on her terms and no one else's.

She surged up, taking the demon holding her shoulders by surprise and head butting him. He fell to the side and she struck out at the one straddling her waist. He reared back and she sat up, pressing her advantage. Her fist struck him in the ribs and she felt the bones give as he flew back into the demon holding her legs still.

Alive for you
I'm awake, because of you

I'm alive, I told you
I'm awake swallowing you

I'm alive, I told you
I'm awake

Because of you I'm alive
I told you I'm awake

Swallowing you alive

Now free, she stood and faced the suddenly quiet bar. The main demon was standing across from her with his hands in his pockets. He tilted his head and eyed the bodies on the floor. Two of his goons scrambled to their feet and he sighed as he shook his head.

"Don't bother," He growled at them before returning his attention to her. "It's so hard to find good help these days."

"Scared to try me yourself?" She taunted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Let's just say common sense says not to," He answered, smirking.

This guy's a fuckin' joke, She thought, shifting to hide her discomfort.

Her side was aching again and her knee was throbbing. She was certain she'd twisted it when those demons had piled on top of her. She glared at the demon.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you now."

He held up his hands in a warding off gesture. "Just consider it a favor. You don't kill me, and the rest of my clan won't come for you."

"You're a real gem," She said sarcastically.

"Thanks," He answered cheerfully.

She shook her head and turned to survey the club. A few demons were still seated, while it seemed that most had taken off during the fight. She strode towards the door, forcing herself not to limp. She'd had enough of this.

"Hey, one more thing," The demon called after her.

"What?" She growled, not turning to face him.

"I'd be honored to know the name of the last of the Slayer line."

A sudden surge of anger mixed with grief flooded her and she inhaled sharply. Her eyes closed briefly as she struggled to maintain her composure and then she turned her head just enough to see him. Her lips curled into a sneer as she locked eyes with him.

"The name's Faith."

Chapter Two: The Misery You Put Me Through

The door of her motel room was hanging off its' hinges when Faith reached the room. She paused, giving her senses free reign. Assured that whatever had done the damage wasn't within range, she entered the room cautiously. She stopped just a few feet inside and glanced around.

The TV had been busted up and the mattress shredded, the stuffing scattered across the floor. The curtains and blinds had been torn from the wall, the drawers pulled from the dresser and nightstand, and the bathroom door was lying on the floor. It was obvious that she'd stayed in one place a day too many. It happened occasionally, but not quite as often as it had in the beginning.

The brunette looked at the mess impassively. At least she'd learned not to leave her stuff in the room. She was only vaguely irritated by the incident. She wasn't certain if it was because she'd halfway expected it or if it was just overshadowed by the fight at the bar in the list of things currently bothering her.

Her jaw clenched and her nostrils flared as she inhaled unsteadily. It was more the demon's words than the fight. The last of the Slayer line—oh how she hated that title. The first time she'd heard it, it had sent her on a bloody tear through the demon ranks.

The reminder that she was alone once again for the first time since she'd become a Slayer always shredded something inside her. It was the one thing that had kept her from going the distance when she'd worked for the Mayor—the thought of being alone had frightened her beyond belief. It had kept her from killing Buffy every time.

It was that fear that had separated Faith from the rest of their group when the battle began. She'd been on the run for two months before that. She closed her eyes against the memories and took a shuddering breath as she tried to resurrect her defenses. She couldn't afford a walk down memory lane right now—Hell, she never could.

It was why Faith spent most of her time drowning the memories with anything she could get her hands on. She grimaced at the reminder and reopened her eyes to stare blankly at the wall across from her. The brunette wasn't even certain when that habit had started up again. She clenched her jaw and stood to go to the bathroom.

She paused in the doorway and stared at the red message scrawled across the mirror. `You will die, Slayer'. Faith snorted softly. As if it was the first time she'd gotten that particular threat. What the fuck is it with these guys and messages on the mirror?

It seemed that it was the only place they knew to leave one. She sighed and retrieved a wash cloth from the linen cabinet to wash the blood from the mirror. Then she dropped the cloth in the trash and turned to leave the room. It was time to get some distance from this town before the motel manager caught sight of the damage.

She'd accomplished what she'd stopped to do so another day wouldn't have made a difference. Her cash had been replenished, she'd gotten as much rest as she could, she'd Slayed, and she'd boosted her stash. She shifted the pouch in her pocket and exited the motel room. She straddled her motorcycle and then hesitated as she tilted her head and gazed curiously at the motel.

Just what the fuck did I do last night to draw their attention? Her eyebrows furrowed and then she shook her head as she reached for her helmet. The previous night was a blur to her just like so many before it. A twinge in her side reminded her that she'd need to stop in a couple of hours to check her injuries.

Faith drew the needle through her flesh, grimacing. The reaction was more habit than because it hurt. The five beers and the pill she'd taken half an hour ago assured that. She smirked as she picked up the scissors to snip the thread and then she tied it off.

The stitches in her side had popped during the earlier fight in the bar. She hadn't noticed until she'd gotten off her bike after the three hour ride. It had given the blood time to dry and caused her shirt to stick to the wound, which became obvious when she'd stretched. The brief burning pain had brought it to her attention immediately.

She closed the first aid kit and then threw away the used alcohol pads. Then Faith slumped back against the headboard. The drug she took made it almost impossible to focus sometimes and forcing it drained her of almost all energy. She sighed.

Her hormones interfered in the effects of the drugs as well. The endorphins from sex and fighting aided it in giving her a major rush of adrenaline. The drug itself tended to amplify her emotions and senses. It was one of the few things she'd found that usually kept her from feeling like she was drowning in misery, though even it had limits.

She didn't know the official name for it. She just knew vampires referred to the drug as `Fane'. She couldn't exactly recall where she'd first been introduced to it either. She was well aware that her behavior over the last two years was unhealthy but she didn't care.

It was the only way she could deal with the life she was being forced to live. She went where her Slayer dreams lead her. In the beginning, she'd tried to ignore the messages from the Powers that Be. More like the powers that screw you, She thought bitterly. But it had almost driven her crazy as the dreams kept repeating until she finally listened.

Faith's jaws unconsciously clenched as she squeezed her eyes shut against the feeling swelling in her chest. While she was determined to die on her own terms, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Either way it meant that she'd no longer be a tool for the Powers that Be. She was just tired and twisted enough to hope that it would be soon.

It hadn't taken her long to derive from her Slayer dreams that she'd only awakened from her coma because the Powers That Be had plans for her. They were going to lose all their other `champions' and she was the only one left standing. She was only alive because they were determined to fuck her over until the very end. They'd turned their backs on the others and it had resulted in their deaths; in her darkest moments, Faith couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before they did the same to her.

At first those thoughts had suffocated her with fear. But now, she couldn't help but smile in bittersweet acceptance. It was better than some of the other thoughts she could be having. There were some that were better left locked in the back of her mind.

The brunette leaned over to turn the radio on. Then she retrieved a cigarette and her black and silver Zippo lighter from the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She lit the cigarette as a familiar song started up. She absently listened to the lyrics as her thoughts continued on the vicious cycle they'd started on.

Tell me exactly what am I supposed to do
Now that I have allowed you to beat me

Do you think that we could play another game
Maybe I could win this time

She'd betrayed her calling, betrayed her friends; even betrayed her sisters-in-arms. But the worst sin that came to mind were the moments she chose to betray her heart. She did it so many times, so many ways, all the while knowing just what she was doing. Faith truly did hate herself.

I kind of like the misery you put me through
Darlin' you can trust me completely

If you even try to look the other way
I think that I could kill this time

rah! rah!
rah! rah!

That last time she'd seen Buffy, calling it a disaster would be an understatement. She could still feel the blonde's struggles growing weaker if she concentrated. At the time, holding Buffy under water while choking the life out of her had been the most satisfying thing Faith had ever felt. It was realizing that she truly could've killed Buffy at that moment that had snapped her out of it.

It was also that very thought that had sent her on the run. As soon as the mission was over and she'd let Giles know what had happened with Genevieve, she'd packed a bag and left. It was less than two weeks later that she realized they were tracking her. She'd deeply enjoyed taunting her pursuers and losing them as quickly as possible.

It doesn't really seem I'm getting through to you
Though I see you weeping so sweetly

I think that you might have to take another taste
A little bit of hell this time

rah! rah!
enlighten me
rah! rah!
enlighten me.

Is she not right?
Is she insane?

Will she now
Run for her life in the battle that ends this day

Four months later she'd heard the news that had sent her over the edge. An army of demons had attacked the Watcher's Council and all of their bases across the world. She immediately began to search for survivors, but as the rumors had stated, there were none other than the ones who'd been turned. She was certain the leader of the army of demons was the one responsible for her current pursuers.

Is she not right?
Is she insane?

Will she now
Run for her life now that she lied to me

You always wanted people to remember you
To leave your little mark on society

Don't you know your wish is coming true today
Another victim dies tonight

Faith reached over and turned off the radio with a vicious stab of her index finger. That song was normally one of her favorites, but not this morning. That last line had sent a shiver up her spine that made her inner Slayer growl with discontent. She let out a shuddering breath and shook herself slightly.

The brunette flicked her cigarette ashes into the ashtray on the nightstand and took one last hit before she stubbed the cigarette out. Then she picked up the first aid kit and dropped on the floor by the bed. She slid down in the bed and then reached for the corner of the blankets she'd tossed to the side earlier. She pulled the bed covers up over her and shifted until she was comfortable.

She gazed across the dimly-lit room blankly as she waited for sleep to claim her. She knew it would be a while, but it wasn't as if she had anything else to do. She usually avoided patrolling unless it was something from a Slayer dream. That drew the attention of the demon community, and she had to avoid that if she wanted to lose her pursuers.

It didn't take much for her to figure out what had happened in that last town. She knew herself too well. Add Fane into the mix and she was lucky she'd even made it out alive. She snorted softly.

That ain't luck. It's just somethin' extra in my fuckin' misery. She closed her eyes resolutely and sighed. Enough of this shit.

Chapter Three: Devastating Reality

(Faith's POV)

I find myself in a strange room. The walls are a pristine white and the light oak bookshelf in front of me holds books, cassette tapes, and a few picture frames. A familiar face catches my attention and I reach for the picture frame. It can't be...

"You know I'm not her."

I freeze at the sound of her voice. Tears come to my eyes and my breath hitches as I'm flooded with an all-too-familiar pain. I wanna see her, but I'm afraid she won't be there if I turn around. But apparently I ain't got a choice, `cause I'm all ready movin'.

My chest tightens at the sight of her. Her blonde hair falls in gentle waves around her shoulders and she's drenched in the sunlight from the window she's leanin' next to. She's wearin' tight low-rise blue jeans and a white baby-T under a dark blue letterman jacket that's too big for her. I can't describe the emotions I'm drownin' in.

"I'm painfully aware of that."

Wait a sec, what the fuck's goin' on? I didn't say that, but it was my voice. I feel another emotion that I'm on very intimate terms with as I come to a realization—anger. This is a Slayer dream; those never have any good news.

I look to my left and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. The chick sprawled on the bed is me, but she ain't. My Slayer senses tell me there's somethin' off about her, but I can't figure out what `cause my senses are dulled like they are in most dreams. I lean against the wall and study her as I listen to their conversation.

"Good. I'm glad we've got that settled," B mutters and turns to face the other me.

"It wasn't ever really in question," My counterpart says mockingly.

"What the Hell do you want from me?"

The brunette snorts and stands in one fluid motion. She shrugs out of the leather trench coat and tosses it on the bed. Then she shoves her hands in her pockets as she strolls across the room. I turn my gaze to see B's reaction.

I raise an eyebrow. The B I know wouldn't be standin' there all relaxed if someone was givin' her attitude like that. It's now that I really look at her. This ain't my B.

There's a yellow `H' stitched into the right shoulder of her jacket. It doesn't take much for me to realize what that means. This is Buffy at sixteen, just after she was called at Hemory. I don't get why the PtB are showin' me this, but I'm sure I will eventually.

Instead of tryin' to figure it out, I'm just gonna listen to `em. Maybe their conversation will tell me what's goin' on and keep me from havin' to think too much about it. I doubt it though. The PtB never make things that easy.

Before they can continue their conversation, before I can blink really, the scene suddenly changes. Now I'm outside and there are people walkin' around me as if I'm not even there. I turn in a slow circle and my eyebrows furrow in confusion at a naggin' sense of familiarity I'm gettin'. My gaze falls on a bulletin board surrounded by college kids and I freeze.

U.C. Sunnydale. There's no mistakin' this place. I run my hand through my hair roughly and glance around. I step forward and then freeze as a voice squeals my name.

A commotion out of the corner of my eye draws my attention and I turn to watch. A familiar figure drops a book bag near the bulletin board and then turns to race across the quad. I'm stunned as I watch her leap into someone's arms. My eyes drift upward and I inhale sharply.

It's me—or, a nightmarish version of me. She's dressed in tight khaki pants and a pale blue camisole with a classy black waist-length leather jacket covering it. I don't know which bugs me more, the way she's dressed, or the intimate way her hands are caressin' B's back. She cups the base of B's skull and lowers her head, bringin' their lips together in a passionate exchange.

The sight sends a surge of tangled emotions through me that leave me shaken. I close my eyes against the scene before me and struggle to close everything out. I can't let this shit break me. I don't know what kind of game the PtB are playin', but they need to get to the fuckin' point.

A change in the sounds around me makes my eyes snap open. It's nighttime and I'm now in a cemetery. There's a crypt directly in front of me and rows of headstones to my left and right. I turn around and find that I'm standin' on a gravel path that leads into a thick copse.

I dimly recognize the place as one of the smaller cemeteries in Sunnydale. The noise level drops off and I can hear the faint sounds of a fight. I don't even have the chance to consider it before I'm off runnin' down the path in the direction it's comin' from. Slayer dreams, gotta hate `em.

I dodge branches that seem to reach out for me and leap over a log in the center of the path. Then I come around a curve and skid to a halt, nearly losin' my balance. My focus ain't on that, though. All my attention is on the two figures strugglin' up ahead as my Slayer senses scream.

Despite the darkness of the night, and the fact that I've never seen it from this angle, there's no doubt about who the two fighters are. I've seen one of those faces in the mirror all my life, minus the recent scars, and the other is as familiar as my own. I'm transfixed by the scene.

Buffy suddenly gains the upper hand and slams my counterpart against a tree. She pins her arms up above her head and presses close against her. She laughs as her opponent's struggles increase.

"What makes you think I won't just drain and leave you here for the idiot-brigade to find?"

My counterpart's movements cease and she snaps her head up. Their gazes lock for a long moment. Then she smirks.

"Because you ain't the soulless bitch you want `em to think you are."

My mind freezes as their discussion registers. She's a fuckin' vamp? Jesus, no wonder I feel like someone's hooked me up to the mains; the two turned Slayers I've come across made my senses go off the chart almost like this. Fuck, that's just... I don't even have words for what that is.

"It's completely disturbing, isn't it?"

Once again, I find myself stunned. I ain't got a clue what's goin' on here. Those two are still deeply involved in their own world. But the words came from behind me, from someone my senses only now choose to register.

I tense as she moves closer and a faint tremblin' starts deep inside me. I ain't gotta look to know who it is. There's only one Slayer who's ever made my senses hum. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from cryin' out and I have to force myself to stay in place.

No fuckin' way am I gonna let her know how much she shakes me by givin' into what my body's urgin' me to do. Just a few brief words and every defensive wall I've put in place in the last few years is about to come crashin' down around me. The emotions I've been closin' myself off from are closin' in and I just know this dream's gonna have some lastin' effects.

"What, you're not going to say hello?" She asks, teasing me as she comes around my right side.

"What's disturbin'?" I ask, jumpin' back to her first question in an obvious ploy of avoidance.

"Me as a vampire," She answers, her face screwing up in disgust.

"There are worse things," I reply dryly. "Like the first scene in my dreams tonight; you as a sixteen year old—very scary."

She laughs and says softly, "I've missed you."

The scene around us suddenly fades but I barely notice. Now we're left in white nothingness. Her previous words echo in my thoughts and I glare at her. I don't wanna let her know how much she shakes me, but I'm afraid she can see right through me.

"Why are you here?"

She gives me a sad smile and shrugs as she slips her hands into her back pockets. Her head lowers briefly and then she looks up at me through a curtain of hair. The pressure in my chest tightens just that much more at the sight and I swallow hard past the lump in my throat.

"The Powers needed a new mouthpiece to deal with you and I'm the one they chose."

"They just tore you out of heaven?" I ask sharply. Fuck, talk about the past repeatin'—

"Oh, God, no," She says, interruptin' that line of thought. "No, Faith. They have other ways for me to come to you without doing that."

"But this is really you, right?" I question quickly. "I mean, I can feel you."

"Yeah, this is me," She replies, and then amends, "Well, as much of me as it can be without me being on the physical plane at least."

I have so many questions that are goin' through my head right now. But I don't give into the torrent of words on the tip of my tongue. Most of my energy's goin' into resistin' the need to take her into my arms. Part of me wants so bad to feel her, to smell her scent again, but I'll lose any ounce of control I have if I give in.

"What happened to Whistler?" I ask, tryin' to put my focus elsewhere. I've only met him once and came damned close to endin' him that night.

She gives me a faintly amused look and says, "I'm pretty certain they've realized that any solid emissary they send to speak to you will end up taking on the brunt of your frustrations. But that's not what we're here to talk about. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

"Aight," I answer reluctantly.

"The Powers have set a deal into motion to save our reality that has potential to have devastating effects on others," She says gently. "They'll need someone to deal with the fallout, and that someone will be you. But something needs to happen first."

There's a ball of tension formin' in my gut. None of what she's sayin' sounds good to me. In fact, it sounds like a resolution that would be reserved as a last resort—kinda like sendin' less than thirty kids, eight adults, and a vamp into a Hellmouth with an iffy spell and a gaudy trinket. But considerin' that I'm the last champion left in this reality, I guess they're kinda desperate.

"What?" I ask.

Her eyes close briefly and when they open again I can see raw grief in their hazel depths. She gives me a look that I can't understand and a ball of dread forms in my stomach. I've never had anyone give me a look so full of emotion before. She lets out a shudderin' breath.

"You have to die."

Chapter Four: Letting Go

It was the wooden door splintering into pieces that woke her. She was awake and moving in the same moment. Her feet hit the threadbare carpet just as the first one entered. She was going on pure instinct even as more demons slipped and shoved their way into her motel room.

She dropped into a defensive crouch and slipped her hand around the hilt of the short-sword that she'd stashed under the bed upon her arrival earlier. The first demon came at her and she straightened, lashing out with her blade. The sword left a gaping wound in his gut and she leapt up, kicking out at him and sending him flying back into the demons crowding in behind him.

She twirled the sword and watched as the demons shoved their dying companion aside. She idly noted that this group was mixed, several being types she'd fought before. The one that worried Faith the most was the Strom Demon, as she'd once seen one survive a shot-gun blast to the face. She winced at the memory, yet another painful one, as she parried a strike from a baseball bat.

She used the opening left to quickly plunge her sword into his gut as she executed a double kick to an approaching demon's knee. The bone gave way on the last kick and she smiled grimly. Then she felt a change in the air and slipped to the side just in time to see a sliver of white shoot past her. She moved so that the demons in front of her were blocking any further shots.

Parry, thrust, right-hook, slice, triple kick, roundhouse kick, parry, parry, slice; it all became a blur as she lost herself to the inner rhythm of the fight. It had been so long since she'd been in a fight anywhere near this magnitude—a fact that she tried not to dwell on. She couldn't afford any doubts. She could only hope that her reflexes hadn't been dulled by time and lack of use.

She threw an uppercut at an opponent and started to follow it up with another punch. She missed her target when a huge, hairy mammoth of a demon grabbed him and shoved him back out of the way. The new demon gestured at the rest and they backed away slightly.

She didn't wait to see what he would do, instead she attacked. Hesitation would only insure that she'd lose in the end. Only when she was fighting did it not occur to her that she might want to lose. When the fire of the fight was racing through her blood, making her body pulse, the only thought her instincts made room for was that she wasn't going to go easily.

Her fourth punch missed when he slipped to the side and he took advantage of the small opening it left. He slammed a massive fist into her gut and then as she was struggling to breathe past the pain, he hit her again, the force of it shoving her back. She crashed into the nightstand and absently felt the lamp shatter beneath her, the glass shards digging into her back. She ignored it as she regained her footing and threw herself back into the task of taking him down.

Somehow she'd managed to keep hold of her sword throughout the entire thing. This time she was more careful, she forced herself to relax, forced her breathing to regulate as she took measure of him. Despite that he looked like a humanoid buffalo, he obviously wasn't stupid. It took everything in her not to act on the tension begging to be let loose inside of her.

She didn't stop to think about why the others weren't trying to attack. It wouldn't make much of a difference to her. It was just one more thing she'd have to worry about when this was over with. Now just wasn't the time to think, anyway.

She threw a few testing swipes at the demon and then she feinted a combination of strikes to his upper and lower torso. Then she was moving forward, into his guard, shoving past his startled reflex to shove her back, and her blade slipped through his belly with ease. She smiled grimly as she twisted it and she saw the light dim in his eyes as she dragged the blade back out. She moved back, let his body hit the floor, then she moved forward to meet the next attack.

It didn't take long. The demons exchanged looks ranging from startled, to pissed, to... Amused? Faith shook her head at that one and they apparently took it as a signal. Five of the demons came at her and she grimaced because this time, it was a group of Strom Demons.

Oh how she hated nearly invincible demons. Sorry, Dick. She couldn't help a hoarse laugh at that thought. But it wasn't funny, because it brought with it memories she didn't need, now or ever.

They obviously didn't know she'd seen their kind before. She snickered as she wondered briefly how her old piñata Frances was doing. She shook it off as the first green-skinned demon came at her, brandishing a scythe like the ones she'd seen in old drawings of Death. She only sneered at him as she met his blade with her own in an awkward parry.

Really kinda wishin' I had my own scythe, She mused internally. If only to show this motherfucker what a real scythe is.

Unfortunately, there was no way to tell where it was. She hadn't been able to find it in the rubble of the Scotland headquarters. And she'd tried, though she'd been half-insane at the time. She liked to tell herself it was from anger, but she'd known better then, and she knew better now.

It pissed her off to think that a demon had it. Because she knew—she just knew—that whoever had it was probably the one who'd killed Buffy. She wanted his blood on her hands in the worst kind of way. It had taken her weeks to fight her way out of that dark pit of emotions, and she'd completely annihilated the supernatural community in Scotland by that point.

Faith didn't have any way of knowing if it'd just been the evil ones she'd taken out her grief on, or if the neutrals had born it as well. She didn't care, though. Something had made plans as big as to take out the entire Watcher's Council and they had to have known, and hadn't said a word, had given them no warning. Nothing could convince her otherwise and nothing ever would.

She kicked the scythe out away from the Strom Demon and before he could recover, she hit him with a left uppercut and then brought her blade around in a sweeping blow that decapitated him. She'd never minded getting dirty in a fight. But these guys made it nasty, because when you took their heads off, their bodies exploded.

She didn't even have a chance to turn her head this time. She got a face full of gore and she was forced to ignore it despite that it was slimy and sick as an enraged demon came at her. Oh, great... She muttered internally as she met his desperate and angry attacks.

"Bitch," He snarled as a stray punch clipped her shoulder. "That was my brother!"

"Should've kept baby bro out of the fight, then," Faith returned, launching a kick at a demon trying to come up on her right side as she sliced the sword through his belly.

She knew she needed to get out of the room, to take this fight somewhere else. But at the moment, there wasn't a way to do so. They were blocking the way to the door. And she could sense even more of them waiting outside the hotel.

She didn't want to think about how many occupants of the motel were probably dead. So instead, she let go. Over the years she'd learned to exert some control over the demon essence inside of her, learned to keep its' darkness from swallowing her again. And now she just let it go.

Blood sprayed out from a neck wound, leaving a pattern of bluish-black across the dingy walls. Hot and pungent, a line of it trickled down her nose as she pivoted, twirling her sword around her hand before plunging it into the chest of a demon. She laughed and moved on.

She took more than a few of them down before it happened. She came face to face with a she-demon. Her roughened skin was ruddy, bare except a cloth over her groin and if she were human, Faith might've been distracted by her breasts. Instead, she smirked, rotated her wrist, brought the sword up between her thighs and then powered through the stroke until her blade lodged in the demon's breastbone.

Then she felt powerful arms clamp down around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She was forced to let go of the hilt of her sword and she let out a low growl of warning. It was ignored. Huge biceps flexed, almost crushing her arms and she slammed her head back.

She felt cartilage collapse and a spray of blood dampened her sweat-slicked hair, and still her captor didn't release her. Then the rest of the demons were moving in and incredibly, she froze. It wasn't fear. It was a thought, a memory, and it rendered her helpless, defenseless even.

"You have to die."

The dream, it came rushing back. That fuckin' dream, Some part of her that wasn't immersed in the memory snarled. She had a feeling that it was the same part that had kept her alive when all she'd wanted was lie down in the ruins of their headquarters and rest in peace. But that dream, it wasn't really a dream and somehow she knew she wasn't going to get any peace or rest.

No, there's no rest for the wicked, it'll be anything but peaceful. It was orchestrated by the PtB. And that thought was enough to snap her out of it. A demon reached out a clawed hand towards her throat and she twisted to the side just enough to let it bypass her. There was a pained hiss and the demon holding her went lax and she took the opportunity to escape.

But Faith was frantic now. It was panic and rage induced and there was no control to grasp. She was running on instinct, and unfortunately, her instincts had always gotten her into trouble. She flinched away from the memories and fought with everything she had and everything she was.

And still it just wasn't enough. She was outnumbered, unarmed, and it was too much. It was too much because now she could remember that dream and the woman in it. And there was pain and it was overwhelming anything else she might have been feeling.

It was pain that was old and new and terrifying all at once. And it was her downfall. They had her again, this time it was another group of demons that were too huge and too strong. She was cornered with no idea of how she'd gotten there and then she felt pain of another kind.

Everything slowed to a stop, every part of her attention narrowed to one point. Her eyes drifted down and as if she couldn't believe what she saw, she clutched feebly at the wound. It was real and it was there and... Oh, fuck it hurts.

Faith moved her hand away and looked at it, confusion creasing her brow. It was covered in blood and for a brief moment she couldn't figure out why. Then the confusion cleared as an oh-so-helpful demon grabbed the hilt and twisted as he removed the knife. A fresh wave of pain swept over her as the demons stepped away and she felt herself sliding down the wall.

"You have to die."

That memory came back, the voice distracting her. Her hands absently clutched at the wound as she slumped onto the floor. But her mind wasn't there. It was on golden hair and hazel eyes and a smile that said how much she'd been missed and a voice that made her chest ache.

She didn't feel the hot blood flooding her hands from the stomach wound. She didn't feel the queasiness in her stomach or the chilling numbness spreading through her. She didn't notice her eyes slip shut. She didn't feel her breathing growing shallow, didn't feel her heart stuttering.

No, all she felt were the hands running through her hair, the lips brushing her ear as warm breath washed across her cheek. She felt warm sunlight caressing her skin and strands of hair tickling her forehead. She felt the warm tingle running up her spine and that throb starting in her belly.

There was a familiar voice whispering, "Easy now, easy. Go gently, Faith. Let it go."

And so she did because there was no one else she trusted as much as the owner of that voice. In a rundown motel room full of demons, Faith Lehane let go one last time. Her hands flexed on her stomach and then went lax. Her chest rose and fell, once, twice, thrice, and then stilled. Her pulse fluttered anxiously for a long moment until it grew weaker and then it, too, stilled.

Chapter Five: The Heart Has Its Reasons

(Faith's POV)

My emotions bring me awake slowly. I haven't ever felt anything like this. So much warmth, and not just from the sunlight, it's floodin' my senses from inside to out and back and generatin' a feelin' of pure happiness. For the first time ever, I don't wake up with rage burnin' through me.

The next thing I register is the body wrapped around me. Weird enough, I don't even feel like shovin' away from `em, not even a little bit of my old fear surfaces. It's like my body knows who it is even if I don't. I don't know if I like that, or if I hate it.

Then I feel the tingles runnin' up my spine and the throbbin' in my belly and I know who's holdin' me so intimately without even havin' to look. I have to force myself to move `cause my body really likes it where it is—and if I'm truthful, so do I. But it's like I can't even dredge up an ounce of anger and it suddenly irritates me. I roll up onto my feet and glare down at her but all she does is shift up onto her elbows and smile up at me.

I'm stunned by the beauty of it all for a moment. For that brief span of time, all I can see is B. She's layin' in the shadows of a huge tree, sunlight filterin' through the leaves to dance over the green silk button-up shirt and tight faded blue jeans she's wearin'. She's surrounded by grass greener than any I've ever seen, and a vivid array of wildflowers.

Then it comes floodin' back—the fight, the knife... Oh fuck. I gasp as my knees give out and I collapse to the ground. I clutch uselessly at the grass as I look up at B, resentful and grateful and so much more all at once. She's the reason I gave up, but I'm so grateful that I'm finished and I'm utterly terrified that it ain't really over.

I ain't even aware of the tears I'm sheddin' `til B reaches up and brushes `em away. I don't know when she got so close, either. I wanna move away but I can't make myself this time. When she pulls me into her arms, the only thing I can do is fall into her.

She gathers me closer, holdin' me tight against her. I wanna scream, wanna shove her away, and ask her what the fuck's wrong with her. She never would've done this when we were alive. But I ain't really gotta ask, `cause I just know this place is affectin' her the same way it is me.

I tangle my fingers in her shirt, rubbin' my face against her shoulder. Bein' this close to her is what I've always wanted and I don't have the drive to fight it right now. I'm surrounded by the citrusy-vanilla scent that I've always associated with B and she's holdin' me so close instead of pushin' me away. Add to that the strange feelin' encompassin' me and I don't want to fight it.

I'm able to forget it all for a moment—this place, the PtB, demons, realities, scars, family, friends, our past, anger, death, everything. I'm able to sink into that firm yet yieldin' body for the first time ever. I find peace in the arms of my heart, my soul, my other half, in the last place I'd ever have expected it to happen in. And then reality comes crashin' back in and it burns.

I tear myself out of her arms, shovin' her away with less heat than I meant to as I scramble backwards. I slam back into an invisible barrier and it takes me a moment to register it. She looks at me, hurt etched into her features. My only response is to give her a look of enraged disbelief.

"This is just a fuckin' bad trip, ain't it? I took too much Fane or drank too much and passed out."

She shakes her head and sputters, "What? Faith, no it isn't a trip. It's real, I swear it, baby."

I'm up in a flash and standin' over her. I grab the front of her shirt and jerk her up, bringin' us face to face. I snarl, fightin' against the peace tryin' to pull me back in. I can't let it win, I'm too afraid to let it `cause I won't be able to handle the pain when I find out this ain't real.

"What the fuck am I doin' here, then? We both know Heaven ain't a place for someone like me."

"Faith, this is a gift from the Powers," She says softly, her fingers comin' up to gently stroke my fist as she tries to make me relax. "To make up for what you've had to go through."

"Then just who the fuck are you?" I growl, jerking my hand away and steppin' back. "'Cause Buffy would never hold me the way you did. And she sure as fuck wouldn't call me `baby'."

"Faith," She says sadly. "I know we had a lot of problems. But the peace being here has returned to me gave me the distance to work through it, to really see the things I should have before. It's given me time to deal with everything I felt while I was alive, everything I still feel."

Her words hit me like a sledge hammer and I choke back yet more tears. I can believe what she says about this bein' a gift, as difficult as it is to accept, but the rest... I shake my head in denial, refusin' to believe it. `Cause then it'll make everything we went through hurt all that much more.

`Cause if she felt the same way I do—did, and still pushed me away, still closed me out, still chose Angel, Riley, Spike, and everyone else over me? That won't just break me, it'll shatter me. Anger, hate, irritation, failure—I can take all of those. But don't ask me to deal with that.

To know that she loved me and I still didn't measure up? Or that she was too ashamed, too disgusted to accept that she loved me? That would be too much. But I look into her eyes and I can see the truth of her words, no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

"Why?"

My voice is ragged, harsh from my pain. I don't even have to explain to her what I mean. Why wasn't I good enough, why was it so wrong to love me, why did I make her so sick? It's all there in my voice and I can see by the fresh look of wounded agony that B got every meanin'.

This time I don't step away when she reaches out to me. I let her hand cup the back of my head, let the fingers of her left hand caress my face. But I don't lean into it. I fight that urge, fight to keep my eyes open just so I can see her for a little bit longer.

"Oh, Faith," She murmurs, steppin' closer. "It wasn't that, it was never because of you. I swear."

"Then what was it?" I whisper, slowly sinkin' into the peace this place offers me despite myself.

"I love Angel," She says gently and I try to turn away as her words cut into me but she won't let me. She tugs my hair gently, forcin' me to stay. "But what I feel for him is like a candle flame when compared to what you make me feel, to the bonfire you ignited inside me that first night."

She's so close to me now that she's all I can smell, all I can feel. I blink slowly, dazedly as her thumb grazes my bottom lip. I hadn't realized I was smirkin' `til just now. I shrug sheepishly.

What does she expect? She's touchin' me so gently in ways I've never even had the courage to dream of, sayin' things I never thought I'd hear from her of all people. She has to have expected that to make me feel at least a little bit cocky. It's who I am.

"That intensity scared me," She sighs. "I'd been so close to sacrificing everything just on the off-chance that I could save Angel. And I knew, without consideration, that if I gave into what I feel for you, I would give up everything to save you. Then Angel came back and I suddenly had a solid excuse to hide from what I felt, to deny it, and then things started to spin out of control."

Hearin' her say that, how can I stay angry, or even hurt? I get it, I can understand fear. Fear has ruled me for most of my life. Hell, I was, and still am, frightened of the way I feel for her.

It made us push each other away. It made us lock down the parts of us that call out for the other, the parts of us that feel the other as if we're entwined. Fear was the main drivin' force that made everything go so horribly wrong in Sunnydale. It was fear that made me abandon them just when they needed me most, kept me from bein' at B's side when she needed me most.

I take a shaky breath as my thoughts threaten to delve into subjects too painful to deal with. We'll have to deal with all those issues soon enough, no matter how much I'd rather not. But right now, I just can't, not yet. Everything is just too raw with her standin' right in front of me.

"So where's everyone else?"

It's about as subtle as a Mack truck, but that's never been one of my strong suits anyway. All I care is that the subject change works. Though for a sec, it seems like B's gonna call me on it. Then she sighs and I'm flooded with relief as she steps away to settle back on the ground.

"They really wanted to be here, to see you again. But they didn't want to overwhelm you," She admits. "So they decided to let me help you adjust to being here before they come see you."

She pats the ground to her left, gesturin' for me to sit down. I contemplate ignorin' the offer, and then I shrug internally. I allow myself to sink down onto the grass next to her, keepin' just a bit of space between us. I'm feelin' a little awkward, and I hate it.

There's so much between us that's bein' left unsaid. She's had time to deal with the past, but I've spent the last couple of years keepin' it all buried. I want to tell her everything, and at the same time, I'm afraid to. And for the first time in two years, I'm ashamed of what I've been doin'.

I've spent the last two years fillin' my body with whatever I could get a hold of—drugs, alcohol, it didn't matter as long as it got me high. I didn't care what else it did to me, or how much danger it put me in when I knew demons were lookin' for me. I went out lookin' for fights like that, not carin' that it made me sloppy. I only barely continued to care about protectin' other people.

I fucked whoever came along. Sometimes for whatever I needed a fix of, sometimes just `cause I didn't wanna remember anything else. I did whatever they wanted, let `em take me however and wherever they wanted. I even let a few vamps come damn close to drainin' me.

There was nothin' I wouldn't do. I just didn't care most of the time. And the rest, it was just easier to fall into that pit of darkness than deal with the internal pain. It's a familiar habit.

How am I supposed to explain it to her? Or does she all ready know? Just the thought of her knowin' what I've done makes it so, so hard to look at her. Bein' this close to her, knowin' how dirty I am, makes me feel guilty and disgusted with myself.

"D—do you think maybe we can go see them?"

She looks at me, brow furrowed. She's silent for a long moment as she considers me. Then her shoulders slump and she nods sharply. She lets her gaze drop.

"Sure, come on."

My heart clenches in regret as she stands up. I can hear the disappointment, the hurt, in B's voice and I wanna apologize. I wanna beg for forgiveness, `cause I didn't mean to hurt her. But I can't.

If I do, then she'll wanna know why I said it. She'll wanna know what's wrong. And I can't do it; I just can't bring myself to utter those words to her. I don't wanna find out if she all ready knows, and I won't be the one to tell her how much of a fuckin' whore I really am.

She offers me a hand up and I ignore it. I get up, evadin' her outstretched hand as I dust the seat of my pants off. A glance down almost makes me laugh. I'm wearin' a pair of loose black leather pants and a white wife beater, both well-worn, yet cleaner than anything I've owned in a while.

"Give me your hand."

I shoot a startled look at her. She's still holdin' her hand out towards me. I give her a confused look. She's gonna have to explain that, `cause I ain't doin' it unless I have to.

I want to; God knows I wanna wrap my arms around her and never let her go. But I can't. For one, the last thing she needs is someone like me touchin' her. For another thing, every time I touch her, I can feel myself losin' to the effects of this place. And I just know that if I let it win, this place is gonna make me spill my guts about everything I don't wanna talk about.

"Why?"

"We can shift to where they're waiting," She says, exasperated. "But you don't know how to lock onto them yet, so I'm going to have to be your guide until you get the hang of it."

"What do you mean, shift?"

"It's like teleporting, but not quite. The Upper Realm consists of millions of pocket dimensions, each of which can be manipulated by occupants to appear as they want it. It's all done using telekinesis, and other psychic stuff that Will, Giles, or even Wes and Andy could tell you more about. But anyway, if you close your eyes, you can sort of shift through the dimensions."

It still ain't any clearer what she means by shift. But I guess I can deal. It's pretty obvious I have no other choice when she grabs my hand. She shoots me a questioning look.

"You ready?"

No, not really. But I can't give her that answer. That'll lead to that talkin' thing I don't wanna do and I'll have to explain that I'm freaked about seein' them again. I straighten my back and shrug.

"We might as well get it over with."

"Okay, close your eyes or you'll end up losing the dinner you didn't have."

I furrow my eyebrows, but I don't have time to question that statement. The space around us starts to blur, shades of blue, white, green, and brown bleedin' into each other. I slam my eyes shut, the meanin' of her comment registerin'. The last thing I want is to puke right now when I can still feel the ghost of the pain from that knife slidin' into my gut.

Chapter Six: Of Which Reason Knows Nothing Of

(Buffy's POV)

Two years. It's been two years, seven months, four days, three hours, and twenty-six minutes since I last saw her in person. That memory still burns. Out of everything that's ever happened in my life, she's the one thing I haven't been able to let go of, despite where I am.

I've wanted her since I first saw her. I ache for her. It's something not even Angel has ever inspired in me. I love him, but I've never loved him so much it hurt this way.

Loving Angel hurt for all the wrong reasons. As much denial as we were in when he returned from Hell, I couldn't ever truly have him again. We both knew. I'd all ready said my goodbyes.

Loving Faith isn't usually painful in the true sense; it's feeling so much so strongly that it makes me ache. I ache to see her, to speak to her, to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. I ache for her to watch me, to speak to me, to touch me, to hold me, to kiss me. I just ache for Faith.

It scared me. Angel had only inspired giddiness and curiosity. Faith inspires passion. And I knew, looking into her eyes as she introduced herself, I could never sacrifice her for anyone.

I pushed her away and continued to until the pain became too much for us. We overcompensated and an innocent paid the price. Seeing her with blood on her hands, my fears made themselves known again and became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I tried too hard to help her when all she needed was for me to stand by her side and I finished what I'd started months before then.

I can't describe the horror I felt in the months that came. I can't describe the pain. Then that self-fulfilling prophecy was completed the night she poisoned Angel. I had to choose; my first love, or the woman that even though she was my enemy, I still ached for.

The night before graduation was the night I began to shut everyone out. No one realized it then, or even in the years that followed. They thought it was something that just began when I was resurrected. That's just another example of how self-absorbed we all were in life.

That night at the hospital wasn't the last time I visited her. My solo-patrols usually ended up going the route of the hospital just so I could drop in and see her. I just couldn't tell anyone. They were all so angry with her and it hurt to think about her, so I said nothing.

Need, want, hope, fear, pain, guilt, anger, love; those are the things I felt when I heard she was awake. I felt each of those things as strongly as I have ever felt anything for her. But the guilt was double sided. I felt guilty for her waking up in the hospital alone, and I also felt guilty because I loved her in a way Riley never stood a chance against.

The moment I heard her voice in the quad at U.C. Sunnydale, it all came crashing down around me. I tried to get her to back down, but I knew it was hopeless. She was still angry, still hurt, still swallowed by the darkness that exists in us both. And Willow just kept making it worse.

I had wished she would just stop. I thought that if I could get Faith alone, I could get her to see reason. But Willow just wouldn't stay out of it. I hated her a little for it, and did for a while.

I wouldn't tell her that, of course. She may be my best friend. But she was also judgmental and jealous and so much more when it came to Faith when we were alive. She always was.

Then Faith took my mom hostage and I shut down just a little more. It was enough that I could go after her again without feeling the pain immediately. No, that waited until it was all over. In the meantime, I had to deal with the fallout, meaning the body swap and the Council's goons.

Riley. I was so angry that she'd slept with him, but it was for all the wrong reasons. It should have been me she was with. But I've always felt that spark of jealous rage whenever any of her conquests were brought up, especially if they were someone that I actually knew.

Don't get me started on how I felt when I first found out that she'd slept with Xander. That had felt like betrayal. It still stings a little if I think about it too much. That's why I try not to.

Cordy called and told me that Faith was in LA and that Angel was set on helping her. I was angry, yet again for the wrong reasons. He was helping her. And she wouldn't even let me try.

Of course, those were things that I never would have admitted to anyone. Instead, I hid behind words that were far from the truth. I hid behind the façade I let everyone see. I lied and let them think that it was Angel I was there for, when it was Faith; it's always Faith.

Subconsciously, I wanted to hurt her as badly as she hurt me. I was angry at myself and her; me, for still wanting her, her, for making me a victim. I was disgusted with myself, too. One word, one look, one touch, and I'd be well on my way to forgiving her and I couldn't let it happen.

I was harsh. I was unrelenting. At least until I was alone again. Then I cried.

It was both reflex and necessary that I continued to shut down after that. It was the only way I could cope. I wanted her and I couldn't have her. It almost drove me insane.

I never forgot her, not even for a moment. Patrol, I wanted her watching my back. Eating, I wanted to tease her about her appetite. Arousal, it was her on my mind, and I wanted her.

I wanted to call her when we found out why Glory was there. Faith was the only person I truly trusted with my sister's safety, even after everything she'd put me through. I had to settle for Spike. The gang couldn't have accepted Faith's help and I was still too angry at us both.

Then I died. I remember more than I ever told them. I didn't want to share that with them. I was too angry at them for resurrecting me, for pulling me back into that Hell.

I remembered mom soothing me as I transitioned from living to the afterlife. I remembered my confusion. I remembered fighting against the peace. And I remembered absolute acceptance.

Then they dragged me back. Then it was absolute fear and pain and coldness and rage again. I completely shut down. And then I took it out on Spike; every nasty, violent thought I'd had.

It was all about feeling. I was angry and hurt and the one person that could make it all better was locked up away from me. Spike invoked passion without love. That was what drew me to him.

He reminded me of Faith. He was rough, crude, unrestrained violence. He smelled of cigarettes, leather, whiskey, and blood. He could incite me, even if it was nowhere near as well as she can.

I could close my eyes and think of Faith and he'd disappear. The first time I realized it was before the sexual aspect of our relationship even began. It was the night Sweet came to town. The words he sang to me could have come from Faith for all that they made me feel and think of.

I was just happy when that was all over and no one seemed any wiser about the meanings behind some of the lyrics I sang. They didn't need to know how long I'd just been going through the motions. They didn't need to know how long I'd been shut down to the point that I couldn't feel. They didn't need to know that Dawn wasn't the only one calling to me through the smoke.

Things started to make sense to me again after a while. The fear and rage faded some. Gradually, as much as I still hurt, I realized I didn't need him as a substitute anymore. It was time to stop.

The night Spike tried to rape me was one of the worst experiences of my life. It wasn't just that the very act itself frightened me, `cause it wasn't the first time that's happened to me. Some of our darker games hadn't been too different, and Xander tried when the Hyena possessed him. It was because of who Spike represented for me, and it hurt so much to think of her doing that.

That's why it was so easy for me to forgive Spike later. Even as he was trying to force my legs open, some part of me had still refused to see him as Spike. And the part that knew and accepted the truth forgave him because I'd felt that I deserved it. I'd used him, knowing how he felt.

The night Faith came back into my life, I realized that even though she had changed, nothing else had. I still ached for her. I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around her, so instead, I punched her. I wasn't going to make it easy for her after everything I'd gone through.

I didn't like that just seeing Faith made me want to trust her again. I didn't want to trust her again. I didn't want to need her. I didn't want any of the things she made me feel.

I fought it. Even as we were sitting on my bed talking, I fought against what I felt. I fought against the urge to tell her everything, `cause I didn't want her to be my confessor. Resistance grew a whole lot easier when I heard that she'd had sex with Robin, IN MY BED!

It was bad that she'd had sex with someone that wasn't me. It was bad enough that it was someone that she actually knew. Hell, it was bad enough just hearing about it. But of all the places she could do it, did she have to do it in my freaking bed?

That night could have been the base for a truce that could have become a solid friendship. Could've, should've, would've, right? But we didn't get the chance to. She was restricted to the US, so she decided to stay with Wood for a while, and the rest of us relocated to Scotland.

I'll admit that I was bitter about her decision. The rational part of me knew I had no right to ask her to be alone when I wasn't willing to give her anything in return. But there's nothing rational about love, ever. And in the following months, any progress we'd made was destroyed bit by bit.

The next time we saw each other was the last. I really should have known better. But I saw her there, and I could feel it like a knife in my heart, and I broke. Then I did what I always did.

I returned the favor. I pushed Faith until she broke, again. It was her tears that brought me back to reality. Then, before I could even try to fix what I'd broken, Willow pulled me out.

I was so angry with Giles. But I wasted time fighting with him over what he'd bribed her to do. I wasted time that I could have spent tracking her down personally. I screwed up, again.

Things were difficult enough with Twilight after us. It just got worse when the first of the attacks began. They were just small blitz raids on random Slayer squads. It wasn't enough to concern us.

Then the attacks increased and we lost a few girls. I suddenly found myself unable to spare any time in looking for Faith, and I knew in my heart that no one else would catch her. It wasn't ego. I just know Faith, and if she doesn't want to be found, then she won't be.

Four months to the day after Faith left, we were taken off guard. We hadn't expected such a vicious attack. They'd kept things relatively small scale. No one could have expected them to launch a full scale attack on every one of our bases and our headquarters in Scotland.

The memory's been dulled. Unlike what I thought of them when I was alive, the Powers that Be do show some mercy. Our deaths left each of us too raw for us to maintain the full brunt of the memory and find peace. They put a blockade up to separate the memory from the emotions.

Thinking back on it now, I can objectively say we didn't stand a chance. They came too quickly for us to stem the tide. We didn't go easy, though. We took them and the castle down with us.

I remember getting trapped. I remember trying to get out. I remember choking on the smoke for hours and I remember the fire burning in my chest. I remember killing every demon I saw.

I remember telling Dawn I was so sorry. I remember begging her to forgive me. I remember holding her as she fell asleep one last time. I remember just wanting to follow her.

I was crying as I closed my eyes that final time. I could hear my mother's voice in my ear, telling me that everything would be okay. I could feel her fingers combing through my hair. I could feel sunshine warming my skin and I could smell her familiar comforting scent all around me.

I understand Faith's reaction when she comes around. It's not an easy transition. But it still hurts. I'm aching for her and knowing that I can't have her all over again—at least, not yet.