The meagre supplies that the group had scratched together were gone by the
end of the second day in hiding and Faith knew she would have to be the one
to risk leaving their hideaway to find some. Everyone else was far too
demoralised. She left the others for a few hours after sunset, promising a
swift return. She was glad for the excuse, after days of sitting in the
squalid semi darkness with the others, even this was preferable. She didn't
know how much longer she could have lasted, holed up with those broken
people and their glassy-eyed stares.
She randomly wandered the desolate streets, which were eerie, filled with ghosts of the past. Broken glass skittered away from under her feet, and the air was heavy with dust. Faith knew in her heart that this was it. This was all that would, and could continue to be, this vast, barren, almost supernatural landscape and yet . she couldn't shake off the feeling that she might blink, and suddenly find herself back outside the coffee shop on a warm summer afternoon, surrounded by clusters of laughing students.
Water was easy to find, all she had to do was follow the sound of gushing water from the burst pipes which occasionally poked out of the rubble, but nearly all the food was gone, and after some intense searching, the meagre remains that she did uncover had gone mouldy a long time ago. How could she forget the wild scenes of looting and fighting that had ensued in the midst of all the terror?
She listlessly traipsed through the rubble filled streets that reminded her of old photos of bombed cities in Germany during the war, or a book she had once read long ago about the hypothetical future after nuclear fallout. Now she could see the true devastation, it was as if all of her little remaining hope had fled. She soon realised that it was the suffocating silence that disturbed her the most. None of the familiar night time sounds that had once accompanied her upon her patrols. In the still air, it seemed nothing was alive anywhere in Sunnydale. She could be the only person left alive in the world. Faith quickly suppressed a bizarre desire to let go and scream into the darkness, anything. Just to prove that she herself existed. Maybe if she screamed loud enough she might even wake up from this nightmare? But she knew that the moment she opened her mouth it would be her death sentence. Although she couldn't see the demons, and she assumed that most of them had left for the larger cities with more prey, she could still sense their proximity. She didn't think she had the energy left to fight. She felt utterly drained, physically and emotionally, her senses numbed by fatigue and despair.
There were no corpses, but plenty of strewn broken bones lay in her path, which she awkwardly picked her way round. She unconsciously made her way to Revello Drive, hoping that Mrs Summers might still be alive somewhere. Maybe, by some miracle, she had survived, and holed herself up in the cellar where she would be waiting right there for Faith to come and rescue her! Faith broke into a run. God she needed this, please, please let her be alive. If she were alive, it would somehow be better, things would be all right. The hope in her chest was painful. She turned the corner into what had once been Buffy's street.
All that was left of the Summer's house was scattered belongings and piles of debris. It looked like the demons had had some party going on. The steps down to the cellar were in plain view as Faith slowed down into a trot, and the realisation hit her. Buffy's mom was dead. Or had run off. Just like everybody else. Who was she trying to kid?
There was an awful noise, echoes ricocheting off the rubble, and in shock Faith suddenly realised it was her. She sobbed again. Put her hand over her mouth to stifle the terrible noises. No! She clumsily reached out a hand to steady herself on the remains of a wall. Don't throw up. Just don't throw up. Fighting the burning sensation on the back of her eyes she forced herself to calm down. Squeezed her eyes shut and took deep gasping breaths of the cool night air. She could taste the desolation from the rubble.
She couldn't afford this. Not now! Fear seized her and she quickly crouched down and listened.
Again, the enveloping silence.
How long she sat there she did not know. But she eventually came to her senses. What was she doing? The others were depending on her to get back!
She listlessly picked through the rubbish, not actually expecting to find anything. Then she saw something that made her freeze. Mr Gordo. Blankly she bent over and picked him up, examined him slowly. Clutching him tightly, she straightened and looked around for a second. There was nothing else here. She turned away.
A movement caught the corner of her eye and Faith froze, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. Then when she saw what it was, she relaxed. A thin black cat had emerged from what was once the Summer's next-door neighbour's house, and was neatly making its way through the rubble. When it saw her, it also stopped in its tracks and the two scavengers regarded each other cautiously for a moment. Faith, still needing to take food back for the others, saw the possibilities of the encounter at once. She shot it deftly with the crossbow she'd bought for protection and, realising that if she took it back like that the others might object to eating it, she took out her knife and skinned it. The cat had a tiny red collar with a tag that said Lucy, she noticed. A vivid reminder of the kind of world she had left behind. The house opposite had a vegetable patch, she remembered - after landing in it one night whilst making her way to Buffy's. It had ruined her shoes, mud was so damned difficult to get out of suede . . . She found the remnants of it underneath the remains of the back wall of the house, and dug up as much as possible, filling her pockets with overripe tomatoes. That should do for tonight's meal anyway; Faith straightened, brushed the dirt of her knees, picked up the dead cat and turned to leave.
"Faith, wait!"
She jumped, spun round in surprise, dropping everything and falling into a defensive stance.
It was Angel. The shock of seeing him running towards her. . . she faltered. Then quickly held up her crossbow, aiming it at his heart.
He slowed to a stop, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Faith . . ." he said falteringly, "I, I thought you were dead! .I thought you were all dead."
"Well," said Faith, not relaxing her guard, "We're not." She didn't intend to trust him. Angelus could have come back to enjoy the destruction and mayhem of post-apocalypse life, and who was she to tell the difference - he looked concerned enough, but who could tell?
Angel still looked shocked.
"You're all still alive?" He took a tiny step forward, and Faith readjusted her grip on the crossbow. He got the message. "Where have you been hiding? I looked everywhere but . . . but all I found were . . ." He paused shakily, "corpses."
Faith felt her resolve weaken. Oh god. Of course, how was he to know about...Oh no. She really didn't want to be the one to tell him this. She steeled herself. Avoiding his eyes she said quietly,
"We're.not all still alive." She looked up at him for a moment, then continued falteringly, "Buffy."
That was as far as she got. Angel went even paler that before (no mean feat) and visibly shrank. He gave her a pain filled look.
"How.I." he stuttered. Unable to make a coherent thought, he turned and disappeared. Faith watched him go, ignoring the empathic feeling of shared grief, and then turned to go back to the others.
She randomly wandered the desolate streets, which were eerie, filled with ghosts of the past. Broken glass skittered away from under her feet, and the air was heavy with dust. Faith knew in her heart that this was it. This was all that would, and could continue to be, this vast, barren, almost supernatural landscape and yet . she couldn't shake off the feeling that she might blink, and suddenly find herself back outside the coffee shop on a warm summer afternoon, surrounded by clusters of laughing students.
Water was easy to find, all she had to do was follow the sound of gushing water from the burst pipes which occasionally poked out of the rubble, but nearly all the food was gone, and after some intense searching, the meagre remains that she did uncover had gone mouldy a long time ago. How could she forget the wild scenes of looting and fighting that had ensued in the midst of all the terror?
She listlessly traipsed through the rubble filled streets that reminded her of old photos of bombed cities in Germany during the war, or a book she had once read long ago about the hypothetical future after nuclear fallout. Now she could see the true devastation, it was as if all of her little remaining hope had fled. She soon realised that it was the suffocating silence that disturbed her the most. None of the familiar night time sounds that had once accompanied her upon her patrols. In the still air, it seemed nothing was alive anywhere in Sunnydale. She could be the only person left alive in the world. Faith quickly suppressed a bizarre desire to let go and scream into the darkness, anything. Just to prove that she herself existed. Maybe if she screamed loud enough she might even wake up from this nightmare? But she knew that the moment she opened her mouth it would be her death sentence. Although she couldn't see the demons, and she assumed that most of them had left for the larger cities with more prey, she could still sense their proximity. She didn't think she had the energy left to fight. She felt utterly drained, physically and emotionally, her senses numbed by fatigue and despair.
There were no corpses, but plenty of strewn broken bones lay in her path, which she awkwardly picked her way round. She unconsciously made her way to Revello Drive, hoping that Mrs Summers might still be alive somewhere. Maybe, by some miracle, she had survived, and holed herself up in the cellar where she would be waiting right there for Faith to come and rescue her! Faith broke into a run. God she needed this, please, please let her be alive. If she were alive, it would somehow be better, things would be all right. The hope in her chest was painful. She turned the corner into what had once been Buffy's street.
All that was left of the Summer's house was scattered belongings and piles of debris. It looked like the demons had had some party going on. The steps down to the cellar were in plain view as Faith slowed down into a trot, and the realisation hit her. Buffy's mom was dead. Or had run off. Just like everybody else. Who was she trying to kid?
There was an awful noise, echoes ricocheting off the rubble, and in shock Faith suddenly realised it was her. She sobbed again. Put her hand over her mouth to stifle the terrible noises. No! She clumsily reached out a hand to steady herself on the remains of a wall. Don't throw up. Just don't throw up. Fighting the burning sensation on the back of her eyes she forced herself to calm down. Squeezed her eyes shut and took deep gasping breaths of the cool night air. She could taste the desolation from the rubble.
She couldn't afford this. Not now! Fear seized her and she quickly crouched down and listened.
Again, the enveloping silence.
How long she sat there she did not know. But she eventually came to her senses. What was she doing? The others were depending on her to get back!
She listlessly picked through the rubbish, not actually expecting to find anything. Then she saw something that made her freeze. Mr Gordo. Blankly she bent over and picked him up, examined him slowly. Clutching him tightly, she straightened and looked around for a second. There was nothing else here. She turned away.
A movement caught the corner of her eye and Faith froze, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. Then when she saw what it was, she relaxed. A thin black cat had emerged from what was once the Summer's next-door neighbour's house, and was neatly making its way through the rubble. When it saw her, it also stopped in its tracks and the two scavengers regarded each other cautiously for a moment. Faith, still needing to take food back for the others, saw the possibilities of the encounter at once. She shot it deftly with the crossbow she'd bought for protection and, realising that if she took it back like that the others might object to eating it, she took out her knife and skinned it. The cat had a tiny red collar with a tag that said Lucy, she noticed. A vivid reminder of the kind of world she had left behind. The house opposite had a vegetable patch, she remembered - after landing in it one night whilst making her way to Buffy's. It had ruined her shoes, mud was so damned difficult to get out of suede . . . She found the remnants of it underneath the remains of the back wall of the house, and dug up as much as possible, filling her pockets with overripe tomatoes. That should do for tonight's meal anyway; Faith straightened, brushed the dirt of her knees, picked up the dead cat and turned to leave.
"Faith, wait!"
She jumped, spun round in surprise, dropping everything and falling into a defensive stance.
It was Angel. The shock of seeing him running towards her. . . she faltered. Then quickly held up her crossbow, aiming it at his heart.
He slowed to a stop, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Faith . . ." he said falteringly, "I, I thought you were dead! .I thought you were all dead."
"Well," said Faith, not relaxing her guard, "We're not." She didn't intend to trust him. Angelus could have come back to enjoy the destruction and mayhem of post-apocalypse life, and who was she to tell the difference - he looked concerned enough, but who could tell?
Angel still looked shocked.
"You're all still alive?" He took a tiny step forward, and Faith readjusted her grip on the crossbow. He got the message. "Where have you been hiding? I looked everywhere but . . . but all I found were . . ." He paused shakily, "corpses."
Faith felt her resolve weaken. Oh god. Of course, how was he to know about...Oh no. She really didn't want to be the one to tell him this. She steeled herself. Avoiding his eyes she said quietly,
"We're.not all still alive." She looked up at him for a moment, then continued falteringly, "Buffy."
That was as far as she got. Angel went even paler that before (no mean feat) and visibly shrank. He gave her a pain filled look.
"How.I." he stuttered. Unable to make a coherent thought, he turned and disappeared. Faith watched him go, ignoring the empathic feeling of shared grief, and then turned to go back to the others.