the-better-slayer:

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.

the-better-slayer:

Buffy’s shadowy outline was turning into Buffy herself, like they were pulled toward each other with a string. The serious cut of her face and her hard metal eyes— though Faith swore she saw a flicker of excitement— meant business. Faith meant business too though; she was an instrument perfectly tuned and ready to put on one hell of a show. Shame no one’d be there to see it, but it wouldn’t be one for the kiddies anyways. She pressed her hands together, cracked her knuckles. Buffy’s anxious energy was comin’ off her in waves. This was a long time coming. Faith speared her with a sharp look, lips curving upwards with a smirk to match. 

“My idea?” she pushed a hand to her chest, mouth dipped open in mock surprise, “Guess I can spill, seein’ as there’s gonna be a winner and a loser. My plan’s pretty simple, it’s one of those five step action plans, only shorter. Two steps. I knock you out cold, someone registers in your place, everybody wins ‘cept that person.” Faith wasn’t about to tell Buffy that Penelope already agreed to this, but she may have already heard. No one really caught her up with exactly what’d happened at the meeting before she got there. Still, Faith was positive she was in the right here. One non-Slayer behind bars— or worse, killed and dissected— was miles better than Buffy meeting that end. She wasn’t going to be sweet-talked out of this. “Follow?” Faith asked almost sweetly with a tilt of her head; resentment and determination managed to slip into the empty space between the syllables. 

“Said we were born to move, right?” The air around them felt charged— no, was charged. Hadn’t had a serious face-off like this since Faith got gutted, and no one was here bearing weapons, ‘least not to her knowledge. She made the slightest motion forward with her foot, signalling that flag to wave. The whizzing of a bullet into the air. The first punch.

“So show me some moves.”

Faith’s arm shot out in an attempt to claim the first hit as her own; Buffy was evenly paced, though— sidestepped it. Easy. Didn’t matter. Faith was just gettin’ started, her muscles were heated and ready to do whatever she commanded of them. Buffy swiped at her, hit her below the ribs. Faith doled out another punch of her own before she felt her her skin icing over where she was struck. Pain was few and far between in fights like this; Adrenaline had ‘em covered, ‘least until her blood stopped boiling. 

“Have to say,” Faith bit down on her lip, wincing as Buffy got in another hit, “I remembered you bein’ better than this. But hey, could’ve been wishful thinking.” Or a dream. Not that the two were so different. She couldn’t be sure whether the words took Buffy aback or not, but either way, she managed to pepper B’s stomach with a series of blows. Moved back a few paces and ended up near one of the pillars— couple Slayers hittin’ it and that thing could come down. Faith tried to steer Buffy around, get her back against it. Probably wouldn’t work, but if she could get her pinned, she’d have her easy. Knock her in the face ‘til her head drooped. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach— damn, right near that scar— and grunted, tasted iron in her mouth. “Still no good,” she muttered, grabbing Buffy hard by the shoulders, fingers pressing against bone. 

Faith cracked her knuckles, pulled a cocky little grin.  Oh, it was so on.  Buffy’s adrenaline was way up despite the fact that she wasn’t really even angry about this situation, at least not at Faith.  Though her mocking was incredibly close to pissing Buffy off.  She was getting there.  She glared at Faith, listening to the same plan she’d heard from just about everybody else. Only this time it came out as ‘Snark, snark, snark.  I’m snarky Faith and I’m gonna snark you to death with my two step plan of snarkiness.’  Yup, that got a certain amount of heat to rise in Buffy’s chest.  She raised her eyebrows as a slight chuckle made it’s way out, only to herself really.  

And a sickly sweet insult to her intelligence, Faith new all the right buttons to push now didn’t she.  She looked into Faith’s eyes, saw the same fire she was feeling burning behind them.  Looked down for a half a second and saw Faith’s fist whir into action.  Faith was trying to take the upper hand, but Buffy’d jumped that gun, sidestepping her way out of letting Faith have that satisfaction.  She’d get her fair share.  Buffy took the first punch all for her own.  Faith wasn’t thrown off by it, and Buffy saw the punch coming before she felt it connect.  She bounced back from it, she’d have hoards of painful bruise colored keepsakes of this fight to be hurt by after the fight.  No time now.  

Suddenly she was being pushed back by the force of a barage of punches.  She noticed a pillar getting closer and closer to her, Faith was trying to corner her.  She was like a puma backing it’s prey against a bush, a quick lunge to the jugular and it’d be over in a flash.  But Buffy wasn’t some tender little gazelle whose only defense was to flee, she was just as catty as Faith was.  Buffy punched Faith hard in the gut, regaining a few of the inches they’d moved toward the pillar.  She wouldn’t let herself get pinned against a wall and become Faith’s personal punching bag, no way it could be that easy.  For either of them.

Faith had both hands in a vice-like grip on her shoulders, couldn’t punch if your hands weren’t free.  Buffy took advantage of that fact. Putting her own hands on Faith’s shoulders, forcing her arms to stay where they were, she bent one leg and kneed Faith hard in the stomach with a little jump.  The force of it allowed Buffy to break free bouncing back from Faith and landing with both fists raised in self defense.  

“Oh, Faith. A couple of insults aren’t gonna make me give this up.” She nodded, bouncing around from foot to foot ready to strike at any moment.  When Faith threw another punch Buffy dodged it with ease, a laugh bubbling up from within.  "Maybe I’m bad at fighting, but it doesn’t make me…“ she took the opportunity to land an uppercut punch to Faith’s jaw. "Any. Less. Right.” She said between punches and grunts.  She knew she was doing the right thing, didn’t care how selfish her friends were being, how much they wished she wouldn’t go.  They wanted her to stop being Buffy, let someone else go in her place.  She wouldn’t dream of it, and was still dumbfounded that they thought she’d ever think something like that was okay.  

The words seemed to spur Faith on, she perked up and grabbed Buffy by one arm forcing both of them all the way to the pillar.  She pulled up her free arm and pinned Buffy there by the neck.  She could hardly breathe and Faith just moved her body away so that ever punch Buffy threw to try and get her off didn’t reach her.  She’d wasn’t even able to get leverage off the wall to push back against the pressure Faith was putting on her collar bone.  Still holding Buffy there Faith got in quite a few good punches to the face but hesitated for a moment, maybe she wanted to gloat.  Buffy took advantage of the opportunity.

She kicked Faith on the shin, it was so middle school soccer team, but it worked.  Faith recoiled back enough that Buffy could get another kick in to her stomach, this time knocking her down and across the hard concrete floor.  She ran over to where she was still down and put her foot down to hold her where she was. It wouldn’t stick for long she knew that much, but it’d be long enough.  She didn’t punch or kick she just spoke.

“You all love me so much,” she said it with a smile her bloody teeth peeking out from beneath her fat upper lip.  "But none of you care about what I want, that much is clear.“ She wet her lips but the harsh wind dried them in a second, she never got windburn like this in Sunnydale.  She continued on, pushing down harder on Faith’s stomach she tried to protest.  "You can think you know what’s best for me all you want, but if you stop me from registering tomorrow and Penelope goes on for me and dies.  Guess whose hands that blood will be on? Just thought you oughta know what you’re getting into.” She knew what she was implying, that she was trying to pass the guilt on.  But it was all a bluff.  If she didn’t go there tomorrow, if she couldn’t fight hard enough, the only person she’d be able to blame would be herself.   She stepped off of Faith, jumped back as far as she could and readied herself for the fight.  Buffy never felt guilty about showing Faith who was boss, they were equally matched, whatever came of this would be fair.  But it wasn’t just about Buffy and Faith anymore, there were so many other people involved and she needed Faith to know that.  If she could stop her knowing that, well that was all on her.  She waited for Faith to get up and get on with the fight, terms and conditions all laid out.

“Come and seal the deal.”  It was a challenge.  

the-better-slayer:

Hadn’t gone over to shoot the shit, Faith’d said. It was true. Someone as stubborn as Buffy wasn’t gonna be talked out of an idea, but traditionally the two of ‘em used another way to communicate things, anyways. Their way left each other green and purple in the morning, but hell if it wasn’t effective. And if the Scooby Collective hadn’t been able to convince Buffy she was goin’ about this the wrong way, then it fell on Faith to get the point across— always on her to do the dirty work. They were all thinkin’ it, wishin’ someone’d step up to the plate and hit Buffy with the bat. And hey, not like there were too many people who’d stand a chance. Plus… well, Faith would be lyin’ if she said her knuckles weren’t itching for a good fight. Felt her blood beating through her, hot and ready to give chase. This was worth the pursuit.

She flexed her hands against the raw windburn— hadn’t had time to slip her gloves on, this was no joyride. The engine was roaring, but it felt like a purr between her legs; Faith wondered briefly whether she was ridin’ right into some sorta trap. Buffy probably didn’t have the brains to set something up so quick, but it was suspect that she’d texted. Memories of those old spaghetti Westerns her dad used to watch as he sobered up flickered through her mind— wait for the flag, draw your pistol, aim well, don’t die. Their fights had a rhythm to them, too. More thrusting and sweating and straddling, but that counted. As long as Faith remembered that this one actually served a purpose, she’d be five by five, no gettin’ carried away, kickin’ her when she’s down. 

But she’d be going near that line. Ideally Buffy’d be knocked unconscious, then Will’d be able to bind her, or something. Cuffs wouldn’t do, though that’d be—

Focus.

Tower City Center came into view. Closest mall to Buffy’s house, and the only one she’d be able to get to so fast— it was obvious it was the place she had in mind for a showdown. Faith tried to work herself up, assure herself that she was doin’ the right thing here. Well, frankly, they both were, but B was goin’ about it in all the wrong way. Even if they let her out someday, she might not have a city to come back to. The mini-slay troops were all fine n’ dandy, but they didn’t know which was the pointy side of the stake. People needed her, the Slayers needed her, her friends needed her. Faith needed her.

Buffy was in the parking garage. No one would be headed there at this time of the night unless they had some kinda drug deal to cash in on. Or, apparently, if they had a friend they were tryin’ to lasso back into sanity. Faith left her bike behind one of the pillars, still not wanting to take a chance. Helmet off. She stretched her hands out a few times, ‘til they got their dexterity back. “Alright, Lehane,” she muttered to herself, tryin’ not to already count this one as a loss in her book. She did have a real shot; Buffy was a damn good fighter, but she wasn’t the only one. Faith could do this. She was strong, solid, real, alive. A beating thing of blood and limbs. Wind-chapped skin and muscles wrapped like fists ‘round her bones. A Slayer.

She had a chance.

Just had to remember why she was doing this. A knot of motives was dangerous because she was dangerous. 

Faith felt her insides clench and harden, coiling to strike. Deep breath. The air still tasted like gasoline even though most of the level was empty. She glanced around, eyes keening in on a figure about twenty paces away; it had to be Buffy. The lights were dim— several flickering on and off— but there was no mistaking it. That charge felt stronger than ever, like her muscles’d been waiting for this for months. Maybe they had been. 

“So what’s with the shitty idea?” Faith called out, “Someone piss in your porridge, Goldilocks?” She traced her eyes over Buffy, sharp and quick like a knife jab. No talking her out of this, so she might as well press all the right buttons. Get that flag up in the air.

Ready, shoot.

Buffy just waited.  The parking garage was completely empty, she could have sat down but she was antsy enough from the cold that the added energy of fight excitement made it impossible for her to remain in one spot for very long amount of time.  She figured Faith could gleam her location from the few texts they exchanged.  She always knew Faith would be the only one who had enough guts to try and stop her, for a bunch of people who cared so much- they certainly weren’t moved enough to at least put up a fight for her.  But not Faith, she was the only one capable of turning thoughts into actions.  The only one Buffy was really scared might actually stop her.  

So when Faith arrived at the meeting, Buffy knew what she was there for.  She was gonna fight her for it. But she couldn’t let it happen there, it’d be “politically incorrect” to incapacitate one another in front of so many people.  But the parking garage was vacant, no eyes to gaze upon their showdown.  She was having a showdown with Faith.  It all felt very cartoonish- like one of those japanese shows.  The two apposing powers meet on a decided battleground to determine a victor.  Who gets out and who goes home a winner.  She didn’t know what would happen to her if Faith beat her, because there was no way of stopping her that didn’t involve Buffy in some form of unconsciousness.  Or at least not a way Buffy could see.  If Buffy found a way to stop Faith from stopping her, well she knew where she’d be the next day.  

She squinted into the darkness at a pair of headbeams moving toward her, here was the woman of the hour.  Faith was on her motorcylce, which she guessed was supposed to make her seem more dangerous and mysterious.  Faith rode a motorcycle and was all sexy and dark, better not cross her.  Buffy didn’t need any of those things to make her believe that Faith was a force to reckoned with.  She’d fought her enough times to know that.  But Buffy wasn’t scared, she was buzzing with an anxious sort of anticipation.  She shouldn’t be excited to fight Faith, but she maybe a little bit was.  She stood tall, didn’t want Faith to roll in to find her sitting there all mopily.  Had to be ready, had to be cool.

She heard her, far off.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up just a little, she couldn’t really see her but she could recognize that voice a mile away probably, if she wanted her to.  She felt the tension increase as she came closer and closer, her muscles tensing involuntarily.  "Ew. What is it with you and bodily secretions, Faith?“ she said, almost a chuckle but not quite; no smile to match it. Everyone kept calling her on her plan, attacking it, but they never seemed to offer up anything else that’d actually work.  "If my idea reeks so badly, let’s hear yours.” She kept asking people for their plans, looking for something better, but these great ideas where nowhere to be found.  She let out a huff, ready to move but unsure at what line of dialogue would cue the intense music that meant the battle was on.  She wanted some sort of ‘123 GO!’ or the firing of a gun, anything that meant the heat was on.   Buffy softened the flat hard line her mouth was making.  Try not to look as ready to pounce as you really are. She took a few of her own steps forward and met Faith face to face, with their warm breath visible in the cold between them, any little movement could mean go.