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BtVS: "Surrender" (2/?)
Title: Surrender (2/?)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Spike, Faith, and the entire ensemble.
Timeline/Spoilers: Goes AU during “Harsh Light of Day.” Spoilers up to “The Gift.”
Summary: “No,” said Buffy. “I can’t beat you. You win.”
Author’s Notes: For the What If? Spike Ficathon.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deadsoul820 asked “What if Buffy had not been able to take the Gem of Amara from Spike in ‘Harsh Light of Day’?” and wanted mayhem and sunglasses. I have (or rather I will) significantly condensed portions of the timeline.
Chapter II: The Awakening
“Jack Horner was a pretty lad; near London he did dwell,” a soft, lilting voice sang out in a British accent. “His father’s heart he made full glad, his mother lov’d him well.”
“Huh?” asked Faith. “What does that mean?”
The singing woman, dressed in a red Oriental pantsuit, only shrugged and began to dance. At her feet on the dirt floor lay a dead Asian girl. “She was a Slayer,” Faith realized.
Then the face of the fallen Asian Slayer changed, and suddenly was a black woman—and then it changed again, and was Buffy. In a blink, the Slayer was Asian again and nothing had ever happened.
The dark-haired woman smiled at Faith. “When friends did together meet, to pass away the time, why little Jack be sure would eat his Christmas pie in rhyme.”
*
“They smell good don't they?”
“What?” asked Faith as she helped Buffy make the bed.
“Clean sheets,” Buffy explained. “Like summer.”
Faith shrugged. “I wouldn't know.”
“Right,” Buffy frowned. “I forgot.”
“I noticed,” Faith mentioned as she tucked the edge of the sheet under the mattress..
“I wish I could stay, but—” Buffy trailed off, gesturing with her head to the corner of the room where a silver-haired man was fucking Buffy naked against the wall.
“Oh, you have to go.”
Buffy looked uncomfortable. “It’s just that—”
“I understand,” said Faith. “Out, out brief candle, and all that jazz.”
“You have things to do yourself, you know,” Buffy said. “Little sis is coming. So much to do before she gets here.” She sighed. “Now I really have to—”
“So go. Don't let me keep.”
It was then she noticed the blood dripping onto the white sheet which covered the bed. She looked down, realized the blood was coming from the knife in her abdomen. “Damn,” said Faith. “Just when we'd made it so nice.”
Buffy looked at the knife, not saying anything.
“Are you ever gonna take this thing out?” Faith asked.
Buffy put out her hand, took grasp of the knife’s hilt and then, in a single motion, pulled.
*
“Think it's gonna rain?” asked Faith.
“Nonsense,” said the Mayor. “It's a beautiful day. Now eat your sandwich.”
“I don’t know,” Faith said uncertainly. “It just always seems like it starts raining about now.”
“You're too young and too pretty a girl to start wearing worry lines on your face,” the Mayor said firmly. He picked up a garter snake off the blanket. “Hey there, little fella,” he said, talking to the snake. “I dunno where you belong, but it's not here with us.” He laughed gently as he put the snake down on the far corner of the blanket. “There you go,” he said, then turned back to Faith. “You see, there's nothing going to spoil our time together. Who wants cheese cake?”
Faith smiled, enjoying the moment, when suddenly she looked up and saw, standing behind the Mayor—
“No,” she shouted as Buffy used Faith’s knife to slit his throat, then ran Faith’s knife through him.
“I told you we had things to do,” said Buffy, as Faith began to run away. “Didn’t I?”
Faith ran as fast as her legs would carry her, out of the park and into the desert. She ran until she could run no longer, and then, panting, rested. She looked behind her. “Why are you still here?” she asked Buffy, surprised.
“I was borrowed,” Buffy answered. “Someone has to speak for her.”
A dark-skinned woman crouched slow as she circled Faith and Buffy, not taking her eyes off Faith. She was dressed in rags, and mud was streaked across her face in a ceremonial manner like she was some sort of tribal shaman or something.
“Let her speak for herself,” Faith said. “That's what's done in polite circles, right? Not that I’d know, of course. What does she want from me?”
“Nothing,” answered Buffy, her voice oddly toneless.
“Buffy, what’s happening?” A note of desperation seeped into Faith’s voice.
“You're asking the wrong questions.”
“Who is she?” asked Faith. “Why doesn’t she say anything?”
“She has no speech. No name. She lives in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. She is destruction. Absolute. Alone.”
“But we’re not alone,” Faith answered, unsure whether she was talking to Buffy or to the strange woman. “They’re two of us, remember? We can watch each others’ backs.”
“The Slayer does not walk in this world.”
“Come on, B’,” Faith pleaded. “I don’t know anyone more alive than you. You walk. You talk, you shop, you sneeze, you fuck.”
Buffy shook her head. “I’m sorry, Faith,” she said. “You’re going to have to trade. You don’t get to be you anymore.”
“Trade? What do you mean?”
Buffy pointed across the desert to where that silver-haired man was fucking her against the wall. “It’s your turn now.” She smiled sadly, looked at the strange woman. “I’m with her now.”
“Buffy, I can’t do it alone,” Faith begged. “I need you to help me. I love you.”
“No!” the strange woman shouted in a deep, hoarse voice. “No love! Just the kill! We are alone!”
The woman attacked, and Faith was forced to fight back, pulling the woman down to the ground, wrestling with her in the sand. Only the sand wasn’t sand anymore, but a grave. “That's it,” Faith decided. “I'm waking up. It's over. We don't do this any more.”
And she pulled herself out of the grave.
*
And, alone, in a hospital bed, Faith Lehane awoke from her coma.
TBC. . . .here
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Spike, Faith, and the entire ensemble.
Timeline/Spoilers: Goes AU during “Harsh Light of Day.” Spoilers up to “The Gift.”
Summary: “No,” said Buffy. “I can’t beat you. You win.”
Author’s Notes: For the What If? Spike Ficathon.
deadsoul820 asked “What if Buffy had not been able to take the Gem of Amara from Spike in ‘Harsh Light of Day’?” and wanted mayhem and sunglasses. I have (or rather I will) significantly condensed portions of the timeline.Chapter II: The Awakening
“Jack Horner was a pretty lad; near London he did dwell,” a soft, lilting voice sang out in a British accent. “His father’s heart he made full glad, his mother lov’d him well.”
“Huh?” asked Faith. “What does that mean?”
The singing woman, dressed in a red Oriental pantsuit, only shrugged and began to dance. At her feet on the dirt floor lay a dead Asian girl. “She was a Slayer,” Faith realized.
Then the face of the fallen Asian Slayer changed, and suddenly was a black woman—and then it changed again, and was Buffy. In a blink, the Slayer was Asian again and nothing had ever happened.
The dark-haired woman smiled at Faith. “When friends did together meet, to pass away the time, why little Jack be sure would eat his Christmas pie in rhyme.”
*
“They smell good don't they?”
“What?” asked Faith as she helped Buffy make the bed.
“Clean sheets,” Buffy explained. “Like summer.”
Faith shrugged. “I wouldn't know.”
“Right,” Buffy frowned. “I forgot.”
“I noticed,” Faith mentioned as she tucked the edge of the sheet under the mattress..
“I wish I could stay, but—” Buffy trailed off, gesturing with her head to the corner of the room where a silver-haired man was fucking Buffy naked against the wall.
“Oh, you have to go.”
Buffy looked uncomfortable. “It’s just that—”
“I understand,” said Faith. “Out, out brief candle, and all that jazz.”
“You have things to do yourself, you know,” Buffy said. “Little sis is coming. So much to do before she gets here.” She sighed. “Now I really have to—”
“So go. Don't let me keep.”
It was then she noticed the blood dripping onto the white sheet which covered the bed. She looked down, realized the blood was coming from the knife in her abdomen. “Damn,” said Faith. “Just when we'd made it so nice.”
Buffy looked at the knife, not saying anything.
“Are you ever gonna take this thing out?” Faith asked.
Buffy put out her hand, took grasp of the knife’s hilt and then, in a single motion, pulled.
*
“Think it's gonna rain?” asked Faith.
“Nonsense,” said the Mayor. “It's a beautiful day. Now eat your sandwich.”
“I don’t know,” Faith said uncertainly. “It just always seems like it starts raining about now.”
“You're too young and too pretty a girl to start wearing worry lines on your face,” the Mayor said firmly. He picked up a garter snake off the blanket. “Hey there, little fella,” he said, talking to the snake. “I dunno where you belong, but it's not here with us.” He laughed gently as he put the snake down on the far corner of the blanket. “There you go,” he said, then turned back to Faith. “You see, there's nothing going to spoil our time together. Who wants cheese cake?”
Faith smiled, enjoying the moment, when suddenly she looked up and saw, standing behind the Mayor—
“No,” she shouted as Buffy used Faith’s knife to slit his throat, then ran Faith’s knife through him.
“I told you we had things to do,” said Buffy, as Faith began to run away. “Didn’t I?”
Faith ran as fast as her legs would carry her, out of the park and into the desert. She ran until she could run no longer, and then, panting, rested. She looked behind her. “Why are you still here?” she asked Buffy, surprised.
“I was borrowed,” Buffy answered. “Someone has to speak for her.”
A dark-skinned woman crouched slow as she circled Faith and Buffy, not taking her eyes off Faith. She was dressed in rags, and mud was streaked across her face in a ceremonial manner like she was some sort of tribal shaman or something.
“Let her speak for herself,” Faith said. “That's what's done in polite circles, right? Not that I’d know, of course. What does she want from me?”
“Nothing,” answered Buffy, her voice oddly toneless.
“Buffy, what’s happening?” A note of desperation seeped into Faith’s voice.
“You're asking the wrong questions.”
“Who is she?” asked Faith. “Why doesn’t she say anything?”
“She has no speech. No name. She lives in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. She is destruction. Absolute. Alone.”
“But we’re not alone,” Faith answered, unsure whether she was talking to Buffy or to the strange woman. “They’re two of us, remember? We can watch each others’ backs.”
“The Slayer does not walk in this world.”
“Come on, B’,” Faith pleaded. “I don’t know anyone more alive than you. You walk. You talk, you shop, you sneeze, you fuck.”
Buffy shook her head. “I’m sorry, Faith,” she said. “You’re going to have to trade. You don’t get to be you anymore.”
“Trade? What do you mean?”
Buffy pointed across the desert to where that silver-haired man was fucking her against the wall. “It’s your turn now.” She smiled sadly, looked at the strange woman. “I’m with her now.”
“Buffy, I can’t do it alone,” Faith begged. “I need you to help me. I love you.”
“No!” the strange woman shouted in a deep, hoarse voice. “No love! Just the kill! We are alone!”
The woman attacked, and Faith was forced to fight back, pulling the woman down to the ground, wrestling with her in the sand. Only the sand wasn’t sand anymore, but a grave. “That's it,” Faith decided. “I'm waking up. It's over. We don't do this any more.”
And she pulled herself out of the grave.
*
And, alone, in a hospital bed, Faith Lehane awoke from her coma.
TBC. . . .here