Like Skinning a Cat
"It's the cure. Drink."
That was all she said about it.
Buffy gave him the cup supporting his head as he drank. He swallowed blindly, cup after cup, not thinking. The taste came to him as an afterthought. Angel looked at her, but their eyes didn't meet.
Afterward, Angel saw a look in her eyes that had never been there before - that didn't belong there. A look he was sure he had, but he couldn't confirm that.
He couldn't think of her doing it. He couldn't see her draining the blood from Faith. There were a number of ways to do that. He didn't know which way she chose. Or how she brought herself to do it.
The first time Angel slept after days of staring at the ceiling, it came to him. He stared up as always. It was getting dark. Shadows formed into shapes. A movie projected above his head - the picture bending where the ceiling curved. The images were liquid and indistinct at first. Then he saw a knife sliding out, easily, blood almost pushing it out. Faith fell. There was no sound.
Angel took Faith's head as she died. Supported it. Her chest rose and fell spastically. Her breaths were taken in gasps and they disappeared somewhere. Her body couldn't hold on to the air. It escaped through the hole the knife had made. Her heart still beat desperately. With its last struggles, it pumped the blood through the cut on her neck. It came out quickly and it kept flowing even after he had enough to fill the cup. It kept flowing after he let go of her and left her. It spread out over the floor.
Angel opened his eyes. It was late into the night. Shadows played over the ceiling as the curtain moved. He looked at the shapes but they weren't familiar.
He wondered if Buffy slept. Fearing she didn't, he wanted to go to her and tell her, "It wasn't you. You didn't do it. I saw it all. It was me." But he knew she wouldn't believe him even though he saw it with his own eyes.
"I never saw you. You weren't even there."
Angel knew that when he went to her it would be to tell her that he was leaving.
The end