YELLOW BRICK ROAD
By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)
Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on.
Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first.
Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch.
Feedback: God, please.
Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise.
Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened.
Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person!
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Chapter Thirty-Three - Bring on the Clowns
Wesley grinned in satisfaction as the three men came running out of the building, their eyes glued on the remains of the explosion that had just taken place. A fire had started - ably helped along by a judicious application of petrol - and was in danger of burning down the warehouse. The men were turning the air blue with their curses, but as he watched they started trying to beat out the fire, and one went running for water.
The first stage of his plan successfully accomplished, Wesley slipped back into the building, and ran swiftly towards the back, praying desperately that he had arrived in time, that all his delays had not cost Faith her life. He barred the door behind, and approached the metal door. The bangs had silenced, and he tried not to think about what that might indicate.
"Just one more failure…" his mind tried to prompt, but he squashed the thought, and concentrated on opening the door. It was locked, and he cursed, then grinned as a glint of metal caught his eye. The keys were hanging up on a hook by the door, and he reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly, with adrenaline and fear. He fitted the key in the lock, turned, then reached for the handle.
The door opened slowly, almost creakily, and Wesley stepped forward to peer in, half afraid of what he might see. But then a whirl of dark hair and red material flashed in front of him, and a solid punch caught him in the midsection. But it wasn't as hard as it could have been, and he stood firm, catching the flailing arms in his own, and holding the woman close, feeling the cold flesh beneath the thin material of her clothes.
"Faith," he murmured, the single word imbued with a world of relief. Then, as the reality of their situation appeared once again on his mental horizon, he repeated her name, more strongly this time, and shook her slightly.
"Faith - Faith! It's me. You're okay now. It's me." After a moment, she seemed to hear him, and went limp. His heart contracted with concern, and he clasped one arm round her even more tightly as he lifted her face towards his. To his relief, her eyes were open, and the dazed look was leaving them.
"Wes - you came." It wasn't a question, but a pleased confirmation of what she already knew. He smiled.
"Yes. Are you all right? I don't think those lads will be gone for much longer, unfortunately…" Never was a truer word spoken, for as he urged her towards the door, the sound of running footsteps became apparent, and a banging started up as they tried to get in.
"Shit!" Faith looked at Wesley, one eyebrow raised. He looked remorseful, and started to apologise before seeing the teasing light in her eyes. "We're going to have to fight our way out, I'm afraid; the windows are too high. Are you…?" He trailed off, but Faith was more than ready.
"I'm fine. Bring on the clowns, Wesley!" He edged up to the door, then quickly whipped out the bar holding the door together. He backed away slightly, then as the first man came in, downed him with a scientifically delivered right hook. He backed away further as the gun cleaner came charging at him, and only had a moment to notice the cigarette smoker head straight for Faith before he had his hands full with one vicious son of a bitch.
Released from the ice box, Faith had soon returned pretty much to normal - sing hey for slayer strength and resilience, and she almost relished the fight. The guy was no match for her, and she made it quick, knocking him senseless after beating the crap out of him. Only slightly out of breath, she picked herself up from the floor, grinning, and turned to where Wesley was similarly engaged.
Her smile disappeared.
A deadly looking blade flashed once in the fluorescent light, and then, agonisingly slowly, it descended, and for an instant it felt to Faith as if she was holding it herself. Then reality returned, and the knife plunged into Wesley, eliciting a pain-filled cry. The man raised the knife again, ready to repeat the deed, but he never made it, for the slayer was upon him, fighting as only she knew how. They grappled, and Faith went for control of the knife. He fought back violently, swinging at her almost wildly with the knife, until she caught hold of his arm, and tried to force it from him. But he was strong, though she was stronger, and it was hard. They were clasped hard together, then they rolled, and somehow, in some way, that knife was buried in his gut, and Faith lay on top, panting, as the life fled from his eyes.
She pulled away sharply, and looked down at the body at her feet.
Wesley. She ran over, caught his hand in hers. His eyes were open, glazed with pain, looking up at her.
"Faith -"
"No, don't…don't…" Faith didn't finish. She couldn't. She looked at the blood spilling from him, shining red in the harsh yellow light, running over her hands as she tried to stem the flow. She reached for the phone she knew he carried in his jacket pocket and, in a shaking voice, called for an ambulance.
She didn't know what to do. The blood continued to flow, despite her hand over the wound. His eyes slowly closed.
She sat cross-legged, and looked at the body next to her.