Voirrey inspected Sunnydale High's library. Clad in a blue jacket and skirt, with opaque tights and flat-heeled wedge shoes, she appeared nervous, as if expecting something to jump out at her at any moment. Faith stood by her side, staring at the broken floorboards where the Hellmouth once festered like an open wound. Faint traces of it lingered in the atmosphere, fading over time. Giles pattered around on the top floor, searching for something, making small sounds of annoyance as he worked his way over everything he could see.
Faith tapped her right booted foot on the floor. The dimension was finally closed off. Probably not for good – but for the first time in a long while. After feeling the obnoxious pressure of this place for so long, it was a novelty to walk these halls and not feel mortally afraid, to fight that urge to run away and never look back.
News of the outside world had trickled in. Whispers of the desolation through stretched explanations: oh, there was an earthquake in the Czech Republic, and tiny tremours all through the world in places which conveniently happened to have Hellmouths. Rogue teenage gangs, drug deals gone wrong, racial conflict in Los Angeles, mass stabbings and shootings – and these just the excuses for the western part of California.
The total number of dead across the world? The Council – what remained of it – had gathered up the statistics, which boiled down to something in the hundreds of thousands. Six digits, maybe more.
Faith didn't want to think about those numbers. How many of them died screaming to those monsters, those shades of the night, like she witnessed in the University. Another thing: she, and everyone else, found it unbelievable how no one seemed to realise the real reasons behind everything. They accepted reasonable explanations, blanking out anything that did not compute with said logic.
People really were fucking stupid.
Voirrey left Faith for a moment to take a phone-call. She came back in less than a minute later, the nervousness gone. "It's finally sorted," she said. "They've fixed things up in Prague. Their media seems to be running a mass hypnotism story at the moment."
"Seriously? What the fuck?" Faith ignored Voirrey's glare of disapproval. "This what always happens every time? Finding dumb excuses?"
Voirrey gave a helpless shrug. "I would presume so. Otherwise humanity would have realised the threat a long time ago."
"So stupid," Faith muttered. She scratched at her tribal tattoo, worrying her lip. "How can you forget something like this?" There were more words, waiting under the surface, but she couldn't express them, didn't even know where to start, not without risking exposing the other things she didn't want to say.
Voirrey, however, understood. "Their deeds are many. Their sacrifice is high. The people of this world may forget them, but those in the thick of it, people like us – we don't." She wrapped an arm around Faith, giving her a quick peck just above the ear.
Faith froze, not trusting herself to say anything, react to anything. Her insides were raw, constantly on the edge of something. I won't look her in the eye.
"Guess so."
Voirrey squeezed her shoulder, gently. "Tara called again earlier. She and Willow want to meet you – since you haven't spoken to them in nearly a week."
"Yeah. I will," Faith said. She didn't specify when.
Giles, rummaging through the top half of the library, let out an "Ah-ha! Got the little blighter at last." He came back to them, holding something in his palm, and brandishing it in triumph.
"Found what?" Faith folded her arms, not particulary impressed by the object, It was small and withered, with a tiny sapphire gem in its centre. Voirrey detached from Faith, clearing her throat as if embarrassed by something.
"The last of the Blood Hexagon binding. It's a cornerstone. Potent in the wrong hands." Giles placed the object in his jacket pocket.
"Right. So. We go now?"
"Yes. But tell me, Faith. Do you … sense anything?" Giles pinched the side of his glasses, adjusting them.
Faith nodded. "Yeah. Traces. Nothing big, nothing dangerous."
Giles gave a small, calculating glance at Voirrey. "Reality is coming back into equilibrium right now. All the circumstances that were never meant to happen are slowly repairing themselves to their original destination. It'll take a while before we truly see the end results."
All that information passed over Faith. She didn't care. She only wanted to get out and go away. They left the school. Giles and Voirrey headed to his small, compact car. When they noticed Faith was trailing quite a ways behind, they hesitated.
"Just need some space. Be around in a bit," Faith said.
Voirrey's eyes fogged over. "Of course, dear. Whatever you need." She suspected where Faith intended to go. Giles scrunched his brow in bafflement, but made no comment.
Faith spun on her heels and stalked off. The car engine sputtered into life, gradually fading into the distance, into silence. She kept walking, fidgeting absently with her wrists as she did so. Her brain didn't want to think, her heart didn't want to feel, so she moved forwards with a subconscious, mechanical drive, going where her feet led her.
It didn't take long. Passing under the cemetery gates, boots pressing into gravel and grass, she located the grave. She knelt down before it, examined the familiar name, the epitaph, ran her fingers over the coarse, weather-beaten stone.
Still, she felt nothing other than a creeping coldness, freezing everything behind a protective dam. Can't let it out. Even that spasm of thought caused cracks in the armour. She suppressed it with a burst of self-fury and fear.
She stayed in front of that gravestone for a long time, trying to think of nothing in particular. Time relaxed her. Sunlight poked out from the few overcast clouds, white candy puffs in the sky. Crows perched on an nearby yew tree, quiet and sombre as the shadows the trunk and branches created. Memories, observations seeped in, testing the waters, waiting to see if they broke her down.
Twice now she gave everything.
Faith's fingers prodded against Buffy's name. Along with the feelings she did not want to feel, there were stabs of anger. Those she didn't mind so much. Anger was another distraction.
"You idiot," she said to the stone. It sat there, unyielding. "You idiot," she repeated, almost like a mantra. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!" Her hand formed a fist. Her knuckles dug into the gravestone.
"Why did you have to go and do that?" Her breathing came faster. "Why did you have to come here and mess things up? Why did we become friends? How did we? Why am I bothered by someone I only knew for … what? A freaking fucking month?" Another breath, a sniffle. Her voice wavered. "W-w-why did you have to ... kiss and touch me like that. W-why did you ..." have to die?
She brought her hands away from the stone, and to her face. "Fuck!" Her face was hot, and wet, and salty. Her nose was running, and she took big, gulping breaths, the sobs hurting her ribs as she tried to stop this madness, this pain. But she couldn't. The dam had broken. She hated herself so much for feeling and acting like this; it made no sense and yet it made perfect sense, and she just couldn't stop feeling, no matter how furiously she rubbed her nose and raked her face. She was fucking bawling like some five year old kid, but she just couldn't stop.
Why wouldn't it stop?