TITLE: The Day We Die
FEEDBACK: Well duh!
ARCHIVE/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere ya want, make sure you don't copy it as your own, which I'm sure you won't because most of my work sucks. Wherever you post it though, let me know. Link, etc.
SUMMARY: Life is lonely for Faith, and boring, but things are about to speed up when she realizes her life, as well as many others, could be in danger.
SPOILERS: Season seven btvs spoilers. Spoilers for The Day After Tomorrow.
RATING: So far pg-13, I plan on that changing later.
DISCLAIMER: Even though I love these characters, they do not belong to me. I borrow them and play with them from time to time, then I give them back. I write non-profit work.
NOTE: Robin is dead. He happened to bleed to death while on the bus -cough-, Willow, Xander, and the rest of the potentials went to Cleveland, while Buffy, Giles, and Faith went to New York. Andrew..did his own thing.
"Ya do lack credibility." Buffy pointed out as she removed the bags from the trunk of the black Explorer. Her blonde hair bouncing in unison with the soft sway of her hips.
"Learn to trust. I'm bettin' ten bucks that's your problem." Faith shot back, bringing herself to a brisk walk next to her fellow slayer. Both of her hands curling around the handle of multiple plastic bags.
Just arriving back from a grocery run, the two slayers got themselves estranged in an immature game of 'Truth or Dare'. Occasionally calling each other liars when they landed on truth, and never choosing dare because there just wasn't anything worth the dare. Now both of their petite figures stepped inside of the New York apartment building. It was nice, the halls painted over with a polished wooden color and the floors wrapped with tan carpet. It was the thin kind of carpet that hurt worse than brick when you stumbled and fell. Faith and Buffy both had learned this from the few times they bothered to party.
"Did I mention how much I hate this place, we're stuck on the eighteenth floor. I'm disliking all of this walking." The blonde said in one of her infamous pouting voices, her lips curling as she spoke.
Faith shook her head in disdain. She was happy to have shelter. She didn't know what in the blazes B was talking about.
Shifting the bags to become more comfortable, she spotted the elevator coming into view. The electronic doors closing with a metallic whisper. The doors were awfully quiet, making it hard to contain any sound whatsoever. She registered the many giggles and shook her head. Why in a slayer's stake could people just get a room around here?
"Stop whining." She finally replied after a few minutes of waiting for the elevator to arrive once again and open wide in greeting. If things here were like that of Boston, the kids having themselves a time were most likely pressing buttons and not even giving a care. Didn't help that there was only one elevator inside of the entire building. That and the stairs, which even with her slayer abilities, she didn't dare climb.
Buffy gave her companion a funny look and opened her mouth to speak, but the doors to the elevator opened to reveal an empty interior. Forgetting what she was about to say, she brought herself forward and into the single way of transportation.
"Didn't Giles say he'd be back from the library by now?" She asked, her question directed to Faith though her gaze was on her watch. Her thin wrist brought up to her face in order to check the time.
Faith shrugged in response and found a space in the corner to lean. Honey brown eyes watched the doors to the elevator close and shut out the inhabitants of the hall they had just stepped out of.
She glanced annoyingly at the small speaker that was placed in the far corner, doing what she could to shut out the music, but so far she had no luck of doing so.
A few minutes of a slight rumming sound and they reached the eighteenth floor. Letting out a relieved sigh in unison, both slayers exited the elevator and continued their voyage down the hall. The plastic bags that were stuffed with food swayed back and forth with every step they took, forming a rhythm that they both listened to.
"Have the key?" Faith asked, her honey brown eyes glancing to Buffy for an answer.
For an answer, she received a nod and was handed a small red card, that of a fancy hotel room key. Turning the card upright, she thrusted it into the small slot located near the door knob and waited for the green light to show. Turning the slender knob, she pushed open the door with an audible click. Retracting the card and swiftly handing it back to Buffy, the key holder.
"Home sweet ho-Oh...God." Buffy watched Faith rush forward, a heat of worry flooding into her.
It was a clearly natural reaction to anything. But somehow it was..different. Buffy couldn't lay a finger on it, and really didn't have the time to.
She followed after Faith, and almost toppled over with what she seen.
The musky smell of alcohol filled her nostrils, and a sudden hit of nausea rushed through her body, causing her to lurch forward and grab the side of a large cedar chest. She clasped a hand over her stomach, breathing deeply, hyper ventilating.
His body was outstretched, laying there. It was lifeless. His face was pale as was the rest of his cold body. It took her what seemed like hours, but could have been a few seconds, to finally register what she saw.
"Giles!" She rushed past Faith, ignoring everything that she said, not even sure if she had said anything at all.
The blonde's hands rested on the british man's chest, and mustering up adrenaline of slayer strength she began to shake him rather violently.
"Giles, wake up!" Her grip tightened, her voice quivering with each plea of sorrow that was spoken.
Faith stumbled back, grabbing the same exact cedar chest to keep herself in an upright position. Her arm outstretched while her hand grabbed for the phone. Her eyes locked on the scene that unfolded infront of her.
"Giles! Wake up! Wake up! Wake UP! Giles, please!" Buffy's crying voice faded into what seemed like a black hole and oblivion, Faith passed out..
and woke up in her own bed, her body jerking erect. She took in a few deep breaths, drenched in sweat.
Ever since that day, it kept repeating and repeating in her sleep. Buffy was no longer there for help with both of their solace. She had left the day after. Now she was alone.
Doubting she would be able to sleep, in fear of what would come if she did, the slayer tugged the large comforter off of her voluptuous figure and hopped out of bed.