Look, depressing it might be, but as I explained to xita, you have to go through the shit before you get to the good stuff.
TITLE: Laid To Rest
RATING: NC-17
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I love ‘em.
FEEDBACK: Yep, tommo27@hotmail.com
SPOILERS: References to Season 5
ARCHIVE: No problem, just let me know eh?
SUMMARY: Set in my own Buffyverse, this continues on from the situation set up in ‘End of the Road’. Faith is out of prison and living in LA for now. However, the events of ‘The Gift’ have happened.
Part 1
It began as it always did. A flash of an image in the darkness; a terrible sound like tearing cloth, ripping apart with vicious ferocity. The light strobed itself around her head, flickering into her senses and then blacking out again, all within milliseconds of each other. Within this kaleidoscope, a shadowed figure emerged from a distance, each step bringing it closer to her. She was unable to move, as always, struck dumb with fear and…yes…loathing. The emotion filling her body like a flame, burning brightly in her head, pulsing at her temples. She wanted to lift her hands, see the lightning burst forth and repel the figure. But, as always, nothing happened. She merely waited.
Closer. The figure drew closer. Until, at last, Willow could see the outline surrounded by a bright whiteness, almost blinding her. The strands of hair were captured by the light, becoming extensions of the fair head around which it fanned like a beautiful halo.
Only this was no angel.
Closer still. Moving towards her. She knew it, she saw it, and she felt it. And it was so, so real.
Finding her voice, she opened her eyes. “Tara!” she gasped.
“Honey?” the sleepy voice next to her floated upwards.
Willow was sitting up in bed, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead. Reaching out in the darkness she felt the familiar body beside her; a pair of hands clasping her own and holding on tight. As her eyes grew accustomed to the night, she looked across to see Tara, blinking in half-sleep, gazing at her in the bed that they shared night after night.
“Oh Tara,” Willow’s voice cracked as the sobs pressed against her throat, constricting her voice from uttering anything but nonsense. She let Tara draw her into her arms and put her head onto the other girl’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of Tara’s perfume, emanating from the hollow at the base of her neck. Usually that would have been enough; it always had been in the past. But, Willow reminded herself, the past had been different. Now there was only the painful present, and an uncertain future which scared the redhead more than she cared to admit to anyone, including and perhaps, especially, Tara.
“Ssssh honey,” Tara’s hand reached up and smoothed down Willow’s back before reaching up to entwine itself in the damp strands of red lying against the back of Willow’s neck. She could feel the redhead sucking in mouthfuls of air, breathing hard, her pulse point pounding out a frightened rhythm on the side of her hand. Tara shifted forwards slightly, so that she could feel the closeness of Willow.
For weeks now, that was all they had to cling onto, a physical closeness. Nothing more. It was as though their senses had been numbed, anaesthetised by such pain and sorrow so that night after night, they had clutched each other as though drowning, the last vestiges of their stoic appearance gone, leaving only two scared girls who needed each other more than anything they had ever known. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Tara woke to see Willow tossing and turning in the grips of some terrible nightmare. When she woke, it was Tara who always held her close and tried to soothe away the fear. Only, the blonde realised, it wasn’t going away.
“Did you have the dream again?” Tara whispered, feeling Willow nod against her neck and sniff back a couple of stray tears. She turned her head, planting a kiss against the silky hair that tickled her cheek, not really knowing what to say. Words, it seemed, were useless between them. Besides, there had been enough talk. All they had done in the weeks following Buffy’s death was talk. Preparation, consultation, consolation…and it all seemed useless. It was all just talk. Willow tried to be strong, for Giles, for Dawn, for Xander, even for Anya. But the redhead herself cried almost every night, sometimes more. And it was all Tara could do to pick up the pieces as best she could.
Leaning back, Willow brushed the back of her hand underneath her nose and sniffed loudly again. A frown burrowed its way into her forehead and she looked down at the blankets, ruffled across her lap where she had kicked them into disarray.
“Tara, I don’t know what it means. I just don’t know.” Her voice was small and lonely. It struck a pang of fear into the blonde’s heart and she placed her palm against Willow’s cheek, feeling the wetness there that almost made her cry in sympathy.
“I know honey, we’ll…we’ll figure it out somehow though. I promise.” Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she felt, though.
A pair of green eyes glittered as moonlight from outside caught them in a glancing ray through the half-closed curtains. The silence between them echoed a coldness that had brought itself into their relationship. They had always been able to talk about anything; everything. But now, after Buffy’s death, it seemed like each girl had somehow retreated into herself even more, leaving a chasm that stretched wide and long. And Willow found herself falling into the blackness more often than not these days. Leadership had never been her strong point, she often thought to herself, but it had been thrust upon her now Buffy was gone. The memory of that brought fresh tears to her eyes and she dropped her gaze, ashamed to look at the woman who loved her more than anything in this world and the next.
“What if we can’t? I mean, what if I’m just supposed to have these dreams and live with them. I was meant to help her, I was meant to be there for her…” she trailed off miserably, knowing that this was a conversation they had had many times, in different ways. But the guilt was always the same.
“Sweetheart, there was nothing any of us could have done. It was Buffy’s choice. Her choice, Willow.” Tara’s voice was quietly firm, and her hand cupped Willow’s chin gently, raising it so that their eyes met. “She knows how much you loved her…how much you still love her. You have to believe that.”
Lifting her hand, Willow trailed a finger down Tara’s cheek, revelling in the softness and peace she felt from a single touch. Always; that was a word they used to one another in their quiet moments, but now it seemed that always might be until tomorrow, until next week, maybe not even that. She had sworn to be Buffy’s friend always. And yes, Slayers died young, everyone knew that. But Willow hadn’t expected Buffy’s demise to be so untimely, so painful, and so blatantly wrong.
“I’m trying,” she answered, seeing Tara’s eyes darken in the night to almost black. “I promise.”
“Okay, so let’s try to go back to sleep then, yes?” Tara lay back and pulled Willow down beside her. Putting her arm around the smaller girl, she wrapped her arms around the redhead, covering them both with the blanket. A sigh went through Willow as she laid her arm across Tara’s stomach and closed her eyes for a minute. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Tara added softly, feeling Willow’s breathing finally calm down somewhat, “All that travelling, and then we’ve got a holiday together. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Which doctor?” Willow mumbled sleepily, her eyes closing despite her fears; the nightmare now fading to a distant memory in her mind.
“This witch, doctor,” Tara smiled, planting a kiss on the top of Willow’s head before she too, closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her senses once more.
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Some miles away, the night offered quite a different atmosphere to another young woman. She stood overlooking the gardens at the hotel, looking but not seeing. Her eyes were fixed on a point too far away to be discernable to anyone but her. She had been standing there since sundown, but the creeping cold had barely registered on her body. Instead, she stood, arms folded against her chest, her jaw set in a firm line, her eyes luminous in the night.
The vampire crept up behind her so quietly that it was almost as if he too, were a ghost come to haunt her. As he neared the young woman, he felt her pain coming off her in waves, like the ceaseless movement of the ocean, ever restless, ever present and returning always, to fill her whole being with it. He wanted to reach out to her, but he knew the yearning she felt for something she could never have. He had felt it the moment the news had reached him of Buffy’s death. Replaying those moments in his mind right now, he felt once more the painful tug of his soul, reminding him of a love he would never quite reconcile with himself. She was gone, and he would spend the rest of his immortal life grieving for her. He had accepted that weeks ago. But, he sighed; it didn’t make it any easier.
His gaze drifted back towards the young woman in front of him. She had loved and lost, he thought suddenly. She had loved so deeply for once in her life; had let go and given herself up to it. He knew all of this. But knowing didn’t ease the anguish that had silenced her for days at a time. Knowing hadn’t stopped her from disappearing for almost a week, only to return with blood on her clothes and a wild look in her eyes. Where she had gone, none of them knew, not even Cordelia, who spent most of her time with Faith these days. She had just gone. But she had come back. And, Angel reminded himself, that was the most important thing.
“Can’t sleep?” he said softly, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the night.
Faith’s head jerked at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t turn around, instead shrugging a response with her shoulders. She shifted slightly as he moved closer, wanting to reach out to her, but knowing that she’d never let him.
“It gets so quiet here at night, sometimes I think this place is an oasis in the city,” he observed, his eyes reaching down the gardens towards the boundary wall beyond.
“An oasis, huh?” Finally she spoke, her voice low and gravelled by the tears rolling down her cheeks. She hated letting anyone see her cry. An admission of pain, of hurt, was like anathema to her. The only person who had ever made her feel like she could cry in front of them was gone. And now, she sighed raggedly, she wasn’t sure if she could let anyone see her like that again.
“Somewhere to think, somewhere to be alone.”
Sniffing, she rubbed fiercely at her eyes with the back of her hand and finally turned round, thankful that the darkness hid the redness of her face. She sat down on the low wall, reaching inside her jacket pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Squinting as the flame blinded her momentarily, she sucked hard on the cigarette, watching smoke plume up into the night sky and then disappear to nothing.
“Well I am alone, aren’t I?” Her voice was hardened somehow, pushing Angel back with its tone. He frowned slightly and sat down beside her.
“Not while you’re here. You have Cordelia, she’s worried about you.”
Faith let out a snort of laughter and lifted the cigarette to her mouth once more, shaking her head. She cast a glance towards the concerned face of the vampire sitting next to her and shook her head, “Naah, I didn’t mean her. She’s always worried about somethin’, I guess I lucked out this week.” A tiny smile of affection curved her lips for a second before she looked down at the floor again. “I meant me, I’m alone. The only one. I’m the only one left, Angel.”
“The Chosen One.” He knew what she was talking about.
“Yeah,” Faith nodded, flicking ash onto the concrete below her feet. “She was the only one who knew what it was like…to be me. To be a Slayer. And now I’m alone.”
“Faith, it will get better – “ Angel began, but was cut off by a dismissive wave of Faith’s hand.
“So you say. So everyone says. Just give it time. That’s right, huh?” Faith’s voice grew in intensity as she felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes again. “You know what? I don’t wanna wait. I want it to be better now. Cuz I sure as hell don’t wanna carry on feeling like shit for not doing something, for not being there. I mean fuck, why her? Why not me? Nobody would miss me; I coulda gone there and done what she did and it wouldn’t have mattered. And I would, Angel, I really would…” her voice faltered as she tried to shake off the tears and failed.
“I know how much you cared about her Faith,” Angel said quietly. “Because I felt it too. And so did she. That’s what’s important. So did she.”
“She was everything. I would have done anything for her.” Faith whispered. “And I never told her.”
Now Angel moved, shifting closer to her and putting his arm around her shoulders, feeling the deceptive slightness of her body as she almost collapsed against him. He sat patiently whilst she sobbed against his shoulder and let the night take her pain, engulfing it in a blanket that deadened everything. Raising his eyes, he gazed at the moon, clear and bright in the sky, looking down upon the two of them, huddled together on the wall. And he hoped that Buffy could see.
End of Part 1
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"She looked across at Willow, whose face was filled with light. She had never felt so calm and happy, and strong..." ~ Unseen: Door To Alternity