Of course this wasn’t gonna be an easy win. The throbbing pain in Faith stomach— where Buffy’d punted her with her knee— attested to that. Any. An uppercut to the jaw, shaking her down to her bones. Less. She felt her shoulder creak in its socket. Right. Blood flew from her mouth and landed on the pavement. This was like the fight they’d had over the bear, when Margaux was missing— both completely justified in their beliefs, though Faith may have jumped to conclusions a little fast there. That was where this was different. It was Buffy acting too fast now, ready to hand herself over to the big G without a hitch. She should’ve known Faith would try to stop her; she was the only one with the guts and the brawn to take up the challenge.
And that meant she wasn’t gonna be bowled over this easily. Instead of mocking her or cracking a joke, Faith was all fists and knees and snarls, lashing out and back and out again, like the pistons in the engine of the Roadking. If Buffy had been trying to bring out that part of Faith— the one that was stowed away since she got her soul back— she was succeeding. Ruthlessness.
Faith lunged, tore through the air and crashed into Buffy, pushing her backwards with one arm. Her back was against the pillar, but Faith couldn’t see even a hint of fear slithering around in her eyes. Surprise, maybe, but not fear. “Admit it,” Faith swallowed back blood, “you missed havin’ my hands all over you. Seein’ me here is givin’ you one hell of a—” Buffy tried to duck, but Faith was too fast, and her hand shot out to pin B by the neck. But unlike in that dream— the one where Buffy plunges the knife in over and over and over again— she wasn’t gonna turn to dust if her fingers clenched too hard. She’d suffocate and die. Don’t lose sight of that. Don’t. Faith’s free fist pounded Buffy’s face once, twice, three times… she could see more bruises blooming on her skin, joining the ones that were there before. Her lips were welted and busted. Something cracked. Buffy was in bad shape, Faith thought she saw her eyes start to dull, like she was—
The thought sapped the hostility from the muscles of Faith’s face and arm, like a cool cloth against her skin. It was just a moment— a moment where her hand stiffly uncurled from Buffy’s neck just ever so slightly. She wasn’t ruthless, not like that. Buffy snatched at the hesitation like she was fighting for her life.
It felt like a bullet entered her shin, crackled against her bone, and went through to the other side. Faith hissed in pain and staggered backwards a couple steps, leaving Buffy an opening. Again, she took it. Boot connecting with her stomach and knocking the wind out of her; Faith flew back and landed on the ground, tailbone connecting with concrete, nursing the site of impact with her arm. Spit out a swath of more blood. “Damn, B,” Faith winced, somehow managing to both scowl and look amused at the same time, “guess I spoke too soon.” Buffy knocked her the rest of the way down, sole of her foot pressing into the soft spot below Faith’s ribcage. She gritted her teeth against the pain, but appreciated the warmth and rush of fresh adrenaline.
Buffy was doin’ that thing where she blabbered, tried to convince Faith that she was some sick, horrible person, and that her decisions would always be wrong. Trying to play to her acute sense of guilt. Unfortunately, it was a card that sometimes worked, or at the very least made Faith take a pause. She tried to wriggle out from underneath Buffy’s shadow, but B’s boot just sank in harder; sent a jolt throughout her whole body and made her jaw tremble. Her fingers twitched at the mention of more blood covering them. Gaze turned inward. Buffy had to be wrong; Faith was doing the right thing here— and she was the only one who was willing to do it.
And just like that, Buffy jumped back, gave Faith some space to get to her feet and back into the game. It was a dumb mistake, and it would cost her this round. She sat up as best she could; her tailbone felt like it got smacked with a hammer, and her ribs and stomach were pulsing like an infected wound. But she could breathe, and she could fight, and she could win. Faith pressed a palm flat against her ribs as she hoisted herself up with her other hand, teetering on her feet for a moment, but no longer than that. She was starting to feel some of the earlier blows, as the tingling numbness turned to pain.
The fight was winding down. It couldn’t last much longer than this; Buffy had to be feeling a similar throb, and from the way that thousand-yard stare was pressing into Faith like a laser, it seemed like she knew they were approaching the finale. One winner, and one loser. Faith had been aware of what she’d been getting into when she drove here.
“Wouldn’t be on my hands, and you know it,” Faith snapped. Tight, too fast, and too obvious. Was it dumb to hope for some reassurance? Probably. They had too much going on right now for Buffy to want to ease Faith’s guilty conscience, especially since she’d pounced for its throat only moments ago. It seemed more likely that she’d try to do it again, and Faith wasn’t in the mood to hear a repeat of that spiel. She just wanted this over.
Her and Buffy approached each other again, slowly, magnetic. They didn’t spend as long eyeing each other as they had last time. Faith managed to actually make the first blow connect— Buffy was getting fatigued, apparently— and it hit her hard in the gut. The punches Faith was trying her best to absorb were actually really smarting now, and she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold out like this— had to make it hard for Buffy to hit her. Had to, or this would be it. The pillar idea had been a bust, though it’d helped her get a slight edge at the time, so it seemed like Faith’s best shot would be to knock Buffy down. Don’t give her the benefit of stepping back, like B gave her. Be ruthless.
With a practiced motion, Faith crouched and bent at the waist, tilting Buffy face-down along her back and flipping her onto the concrete. Heard her lungs empty. Faith forced a heavy swallow and pinned herself on top of Buffy, using her own weight to keep her against the ground. Her hand made a grab for Buffy’s collarbone again, legs winding around her to keep her stationary. She wasn’t sure if the shaky breathing she felt was her own, or Buffy’s; they were connected in more than just the Slayer sense right now. Faith closed her eyes most of the way as she pummeled Buffy’s face with a series of punches. She didn’t look ‘til her knuckles were sore. One winner, one loser.
As Faith got up she looked exactly the way Buffy felt. She was still standing tall, still at the ready, but she could feel that sharp sting begin to flower out from oh so many places on her body. The only thing keeping her going was adrenaline, if she stopped moving- even for a moment- it’d be over. They both knew that. But she wouldn’t stop, and she still looked okay. She looked like she could win, standing tall while Faith staggered back to her feet. And looking like it was half the battle.
From the looks of it, neither of them had much gas left. One woman’d be dragging the other home any moment now, that had to be what was coming. She readied herself, took in a deep breath. Every inch of her body had it’s own heart beat, she could feel her racing pulse in her fingertips. The cold air stung on the way in, perked her up a little bit maybe. She stared Faith down hard, observing every movement, like one of those hawks on the television. But she wasn’t scouring the ground for prey, she was looking for any movement- any in to take the upper hand yet again. End all of this.
She didn’t say anything about the blood, didn’t really want to think about it anymore. She just wanted to fight. Her muscles ached, her skin was on fire and her lungs stung from the cold. Adrenaline pushed her forward, she moved toward Faith seeing all of the possible moves she could make play out in front of her. First she’d take her fist and- her stomach was in her throat, the pain splintering through her body from the point of impact. Faith didn’t want to drag it out either. Buffy reacted in an instant, but somehow Faith was faster. The world was spinning and then cold hard concrete. No air, nothing in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe and she’d heard a crack come from somewhere in her body, the pain she felt coming from every direction stopped her from being able to pinpoint it. The pain stopped her from being able to even think straight.
Could have been seconds or minutes or hours, she couldn’t tell time anymore, but Faith was on top of her. Their legs were in a tangle and Buffy couldn’t have moved if she’d thought of it. But she didn’t. Everything was in slow motion and she was paralyzed with something. It wasn’t fear and the shock wasn’t doing it. Maybe it was the sharp shooting pain that had started to build, it’s epicenter at her lower back. If she had a “tramp stamp” it’d be shooting off waves of mind numbing pain right about now. As she finally took in a breath of air, jagged and hardly enough for her lungs to ever feel full again, it seemed like everything was happening to her. She could feel the icy wind as it entered her lungs, could feel the punches as they connected again and again with her face, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in control. She was losing to Faith and she couldn’t do anything about it.
Were her eyes even open? She didn’t know. Was this what an out of body experience was supposed to be like? If so, it sort of sucked way harder than she could have ever imagined. It was like she was watching it all from above, she watched until the world started spinning. She watched until there weren’t fists in her face anymore, and when the punches finally stopped she opened her eyes as wide as she could. She was in her body again and she was holding herself in there for dear life. Not her own. She had to stop Penelope, Faith had to let her. If she could just understand, maybe Buffy could still make there. She needed her to understand, how much it made her heart hurt to think about it…
“Faith…” she forced the words up and out. Did her voice really sound that gravely? "Please,“ she was begging now. She’d been reduced to begging. If she was in her right mind she would have been kicking herself. Begging Faith. Begging Faith? Really? Yes. "I have to go. You have to let me go.” She didn’t know if she was crying, but that heavy feeling in her chest sure felt like it. But then again that could just be the pressure of Faith forcing her onto the ground. "Or, if you won’t…“ She was feeling guilty already. She could just see Penelope going up there, some false version of her, she could see her registering. Pictured the woman strapped to a table, marked up for dissection. She pictured herself all marked up for dissection. Her naked body lying there on the table, Penelope’s naked body as her naked body… It was too much. She’d never be able to face that, she swallowed back spit and blood and a few chunks of gravel. She felt them going down, scratching her insides up and tearing her apart, but it didn’t hurt. Not compared to everything else.
"If you won’t let me do it, just kill me” the words felt wrong coming out of her mouth. Bitter. But she meant it. That was the only answer she could see. Her voice was feeble on the next few words, it was all she could muster anymore. The edges of her eyesight were starting to darken, the only thing she could focus on was Faith’s face. Her reaction to what she was hearing. She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing of course, or much else really. "I can’t. I can’t. I couldn’t live with myself. I won’t be able to look down without seeing her blood on my hands.“ The words were out. They were all she had left inside of her. There wasn’t any fight. There weren’t any thoughts. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel or hear or… She wasn’t there anymore. She was just floating in the soft whispering blackness.
This Is A Test 