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Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Author's Note: Follow up to Keep Faith.
"A higher power guiding us?"
"Pretty sure that’s not what I meant."
- Buffy and Faith
"Graduation Day Part Two"
//We are warriors unto ourselves.//
I don’t know who said that. Probably I did, but there’s so much going on I can’t even think.
I was called at three in the morning to come to Faith’s bedside. She twitched, they told me. She might wake up again. So I rushed down here, ready to hold her hand, ready to see her sit up and tell me how stupid I’m being, that Slayer’s don’t cry, that we never cry. I was ready to hug her and thank her for letting me live another day, ready to hear her speak, to say anything that would let me know Graduation wasn’t in vain.
But she’s not.
She’s sitting here, comatose as usual. Her pulse is normal, her heartbeat is normal, brainwaves... The nurse apologized to me two hours ago and offered to call someone to take me home. I told her no, maybe she’ll still wake up.
But it’s been three hours now. Six in the morning, with dawn just ready to break. And Faith’s still not awake.
The tears are coming. I can feel them; hiding in the back of my throat, the sobs ready to rip from my lungs. Slayer’s don’t cry, they’re too strong, they’re too special. We’re the Chosen Two, after all. The Powers chose us.
So what happens when one is on the brink of death, and the other just waits? What do the Powers do then?
She’s fighting, I know she is. Inside, I know that Faith is doing everything she can to survive just a moment longer. She’s a Slayer, and Slayer’s don’t give up. No, never on themselves, never on each other and, in the end, never on the people they were destined to fight for. The ignorant, the delusional, the oppressors and oppressed. The ones who announced us freaks and spawns of the devil; we never give up on them, or anyone else.
Not even when we’ve worked for the other side.
No one understands, they never do until it’s too late. They don’t forgive Faith because of her Betrayal, just like they’ve always forgiven me for mine. They can’t understand that I am Her - I am the Slayer, and she in turn is me. And so in a way, I am Faith and she is me. We are each other, the darkness and the light. After all, Slayers aren’t perfect.
Human weakness never goes away.
It’s so hard for them to accept that. It’s so hard for them to believe that I can fall, that I can be like Faith. Slayers were meant for good, for the fight against evil because that’s how we were created. But sometimes it’s not like that, because sometimes when everything is going up for everyone else, it’s all going down for us. Because when the world is coming to an end, we know we’ve failed. The Slayer inside us, the one that carries the wisdom of the warrior and of the ages will have known that through eons of struggles and fighting for the liberation of life and light she would have failed. And all of us, our predecessors, Faith, Kendra, myself... the tears we shed will not be enough. It’s never enough. The only sacrifice accepted are our lives, and so from our blood another shall rise. And it will never stop.
I used to sneak in here. I was afraid someone would look at me - into my eyes - and see the girl who did this to her best friend. On some weird level, that’s what Faith and I were. She understood who I was and I like to pretend not because of the Slayer. Then again, maybe it was. The Slayer is our only link - it’s what made me come down from my castle in the air and realize that death touches us everywhere and it’s what made Faith pull herself back up. It’s a bond stronger than any of us, stronger than nearly everything else we’ve felt including hate. And eventually it’s what will kill us.
I’ve accepted that now. I’ve accepted that I will never have a normal life, nor will I live out my perfect life fantasies. There will be no two-storey house with a white picket fence, or a dog and two kids. The light that burns brightest burns half as long I guess.
But sometimes I wish that light wasn’t me.
I hate this place. It’s a hospice, a haven for Faith she doesn’t need. I hate how this place always smells of death. I hate how the screams of the anguished echo dully down the hall and I’m the only one to notice. And most of all I hate them for doing this to Faith, for making her hold on when all she wants now is to slip away. We’ve talked to them about it but they won’t listen. Mayors orders, they say. And it’s making Faith hold on even when she doesn’t want to. Each day she lives we both die a little more.
I take out a recording I made for her and pop it in her CD player. Aside from the stereo and sky-blue curtains put in, the room is bare and cold. The sun doesn’t touch this place.
I turn up the volume slightly, loud enough so I know she can hear, but low enough so I know no one else can. It’s something fast I know she’ll like, a softer version of the song Curve was playing in the Bronze. She’s spotless as usual. Her scars have healed well, you can’t even see the brutality she’s been through. Faith would’ve hated that, after all battle scars are tattoos of character. How else will you know what kind of war a person’s been through? But for me I’ve always been glad. You can’t explain battle wounds to people who don’t know why you fight.
Finally the tears come. I knew, eventually, they would come, as they often do. And through the blur of tears I see Faith sit up, rubbing her eyes and smiling at me as if nothing’s ever changed. And the sunlight’s streaming in past her sky-blue curtains, her quilt thrown hastily beside her as she clambers over the side of the bed to stare at me in the way only she knows how to do. She looks at me and the Slayers inside us electrify the air with their power. The Powers chose us.
"You shouldn’t be here," she remarks simply. I smile at her and shake my head.
"I haven’t been here for a long time."
She looks around and takes in her surroundings. She hates his place as much as I do but she won’t complain. She looks at the monitors, at the tubes and wires connected to her and sighs.
"Nothing’s ever going to be the same."
"Nothing ever was the same."
"I hate this place," she tells me, "it smells of death and Lysol. I keep trying to leave, B, but they keep bringing me back."
Her eyes flare up in agitation, indignant that her choice was taken from her once more. We’ve forgiven each other a long time ago - all we need is to be able to forgive ourselves.
"Just rest. In time it’ll be over and then another one will be called." My voice breaks as I reach for her, smoothing her chestnut hair soothingly. Is this what my little sister has been reduced to? Waiting for death so she can finally rest?
Isn’t this what we’ve all been reduced to?
Faith levels with me. "You’ve still got a lot to do. Eternity to accomplish within the timespan of a couple years." She smiles at me lovingly, cupping my face in her hands. "You’re doing great, B, just keep it up and then we’ll both rest. And maybe finally She can rest too."
I choke back a sob as she whispers a kiss on my forehead. She releases me and settles back down as the blur clears. I see her as she’s been for a long time - dying on the outside, withering on the inside. My companion in Sisterhood and my Matron in Arms.
The song ends and I shut it off. The quiet hangs over us like a thick blanket, unwilling to let anything out and anything in.
I wipe my eyes and stand. I touch her hand comfortingly and squeeze it, hoping for some reaction that she knows I’m here. There’s nothing, but I don’t need it. Faith knows I’m here as she struggles for her life after death.
I repeat the gesture, placing a gentle kiss above her brow. Leaving is easy because I know that whatever inside there touched me can’t get out. It’s returning that’s hard because I remember everyday what happened, what I’ve done and what I still have to do all for the sake of the Slayer.
And beneath her white hospital covers, I can almost see her twitch ever so slightly.
Closing the door softly behind me I turn and leave.