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Summary: Loss is the greatest pain of all. F\X Character Death. No involvement of Buffy.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > Dark(Current Donor)KCollFR211897037249 Sep 129 Sep 12Yes

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Title: Hurt
Rating: PG-13 (Suicide\language)
Relationships: F\X mentioned.
Story: Drama\Angst
Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters just worship at their altar.
Hurt was written by Trent Renzor, this version performed by Johnny Cash.

FIC: Hurt (1/1)

‘I hurt myself today,
to see if I still feel,
I focus on the pain,
the only thing that’s real.’

The lounge was as quiet as a graveyard until Faith crashed into it like a hurricane, coming to a halt scant inches from the lovingly papered wall. She remembered he’d done all the fixing up of the house, tirelessly working with those skilled hands that she so enjoyed touching her. But he wouldn’t be fixing their house or touching her again.

‘The needle tears a hole,
the old familiar sting,
try to kill it all away,
but I remember everything.’

Faith stared at the photograph on the mantelpiece through misted eyes, eyes he’d loved to stare into. It was a photo of their wedding day, the happiest day of her life. She’d worn white, if anyone shouldn’t have worn white on their wedding day it was her, but he’d insisted.

And now he was gone.

Tears suddenly streaming down her face, Faith stumbled to one knee, chest heaving as she sobbed heart-wrenchingly. No pain she’d ever suffered compared, not the beatings from her mom, her mom’s boyfriends with their uncaring hands, not even Kakistos’ attentions. No loss was even in the same stratosphere, not her Watcher’s death not even the Mayor’s.

‘What have I become,
my sweetest friend,
everyone I know,
goes away in the end.

And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.’

Just one hour, she’d have been off work in under an hour, why hadn’t he waited for her?

She thought he was different. The first man who made her feel like a woman and not a piece of meat. Thought he’d never lie to her like the rest had. He’d promised to never leave her, but he had.

He’d betrayed her by dying. Just like her Watcher. Just like the Mayor.

‘I wear this crown of thorns,
upon my liar’s chair,
full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair.”

A nest of vampires on his own? Faith shook her head even as she held herself in a hug, trying and failing to convince herself it was his arms around her. What had he been thinking, he wasn’t a Slayer. He was a man. Her man.

She’d found the nest though. Not in time to save him, the demons had been disposing of his body as she’d arrived. They’d paid, oh how they’d paid, even now her ears filled with their screams, but that didn’t matter, another choked sob escaped her mouth, the mouth he’d loved kissing, he was still gone.

‘Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings disappear,
you are someone else,
I am still right here.’

A sudden blazing rage melted the cold grief gripping her and lifted her to her feet. Her fist swung out flawlessly, knuckles shattering through the picture, glass splintering and falling to the ground, en-route to her emotion-fuelled fist smashing into and cracking the wall. Faith looked down at the mess on the carpet and laughed, breath catching. She guessed she’d have to get used to doing household chores now he wasn’t around anymore. She crouched and picked up the largest piece of glass.

‘What have I become,
my sweetest friend,
everyone I know,
goes away in the end.

And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.’

Faith looked at the piece of glass she was clenching in her hand. It was bigger than the pieces she’d used to torture Wesley all those long off but still bitterly remembered years ago. She was squeezing it tight, the glass slicking blood wet from her fingers and palm, and yet she couldn’t feel anything but the gnawing pain in her chest and the emptiness in her belly.

She wondered if it would hurt if she dragged it across her wrist.

* * *

‘If I could start again,
a million miles away,
I will keep myself,
I would find a way.’

Angel marched up the apartment steps, a cold, hungry fear gripping his belly. Two days ago he’d heard rumours of Xander being killed by vampires. Two days of unreturned phone calls, two days of travelling in the back of a car driven by his son, while hiding under a sheet, wondering if something had happened to one of his dearest friends.

“You smell it?”

He nodded at his son’s tautly asked question. He didn’t have to ask what ‘it’ was, the stench of coppery blood hung heavy in the air, exciting his demon and sickening him. “Here it is.” A kick of the door and a step inside confirmed his worst fears. He’d never visited Faith and Xander’s apartment, and as a vampire he shouldn’t have been able to enter without an invite.

Unless they were both dead.

“Oh Faith,” he groaned as he stepped into the lounge. The Slayer was laid on the ground, a serene expression on her face that she’d never worn in life, and the carpet beneath her sticky with blood.

There was nothing he could do for her but hope she’d found the peace in death she’d never had in life.


The End

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