King of Pain

“It was not my purpose to cause you distress.”

“Well you fucking did, okay?” Moisture glistened in Faith’s eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s hurting.”

“I am… sorry.”

“So you fucking well should be.” Faith glared at Illyria. “Grief hurts, yeah. We just have to live with it.”

“I will not live on this way, diminished, and without my fallen comrades. I desire to join them in death.”

Faith shook her head. “I can’t do this.” She struck the damaged sandbag a hard blow. “I’ve been where you are. Shame it was Angel who pulled me out of it.”

- - - - -

“Faith will not do as I wish,” Illyria said. She gestured towards the weapon of power. “Will you, pupil of Spike, grant me death? You are worthy.”

Vi’s jaw dropped. Liquid began to stream from her eyes. She turned and fled the room.

Willow’s lower lip protruded. “That was cruel.”

“My intention was to do her honor,” Illyria replied. She raised her hands to the sides of her head. “It seems I am fated to bring pain to those I respect.”

The metal-tongued one stared at Illyria. “Oh, I get it now. You know what your problem is? Survivor’s guilt.”