Brave New World
Chapter Nineteen
Author's Note: I do not own the poem the Mayor recites. It's Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas, and I don't own the movie Hook either.
Spike gasped, his cut lip spraying blood down his chin. His fingers stiffened, the stake slipping from his hand and landing with a clatter dulled by the folds of his leather duster. He stared up at the female, who was watching him with a smirk. He grabbed the handle off the axe and cried out in pain as he yanked it from his stomach. He pressed his hands to the wound that ripped across his middle.
"You shouldn't have come here," the female said. "A silly thing to do, really. The Mayor will win and your trouble will have been for nothing," she sank down before him, frowning. "I really don't understand though. You're a vampire, a famous vampire, why are you fighting us?"
"I don't… suppose you heard about… the military," Spike spluttered, eyes slanting toward the stake.
"Yes," she nodded, smirking. "I wasn't particularly happy about the way they tasted. Experiments, I heard. On you, I suppose?"
"Got it in one," Spike said, one hand slipping from his wound as it crept toward the stake.
"Dear, dear," she tutted. "Awful thing. To force you to the side of good. You should have come here, Spike. I've heard things about you, we could have done with someone like you on our side."
"I chose my side," Spike snarled.
"Yes, I suppose you did," she mused, standing up slowly. "It's a shame really," she walked past him and crossed the hall to draw the heavy green drapes to one side. "It's awful that I've got to do this. I've never killed a vampire before. Now, you probably won't be able to move for a while, I'm quite proud of the job I did on your gut. The sun will flood this hall in a few hours. I've heard the stories about you; it's an awful way to go for a Slayer of Slayers like you. But… needs must."
She started to walk away, toward the door at the end of the hall. Spike leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he forced his fingers to grip the stake. As she drew level with him, Spike thrust his leg out, moaning as it wrenched his gut wound. She stumbled, slamming into the floor. She growled, turning to him in game face.
"I don't suppose," Spike gritted out, forcing himself to his feet. "You heard that whatever I start, I finish."
She pushed herself up, chuckling.
"You have finished," she said, "You've finished yourself."
She scooped the bloody axe from the floor and lunged at him, axe raised. Spike caught her wrist, squeezed and twisted, her cries sounding over the crunch of breaking bones and the clang as the axe fell to the floor. He let go of her wrist and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off her feet.
"Wrong, pet," he hissed. "I'm not finished yet."
She whimpered, game face sliding away to reveal a pleading expression. But he ignored it and lifted his stake, pushing it through her heart. The fingers that had been around her neck faltered slightly as she exploded into dust.
With a groan, he lowered himself to the floor and kicked half heartedly at the dust.
"But you are," he muttered, closing his eyes.
Buffy dropped her rocket launcher and ran in the direction of the marble temple, feet sliding in the mushy remains of the Mayor. She skidded to a halt before Willow, sank to her knees and took her friends hands. She looked at Tara and Andrew, assuring herself they were fine, before she noted the cut on Dawn's head. "Are you ok?" she asked.
"Fine," Dawn sighed, leaning against Andrew.
"Willow," Buffy said in a low voice. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Willow nodded slowly, voice oddly distant. "I'm ok. I'm just… I was in his mouth and then…Faith? Is Faith ok?"
"I don't - " Buffy started, glancing around, watching as Wes and Doyle dropped their rocket launchers and joined the others trudging across the abandoned battlefield toward them. Her gaze hardened into a glare as she looked toward the temple. Then her gaze fell on the crumpled, bloodied heap at its base. Oh, God…
"Buffy, what…?" Willow followed her line of vision, gasping as she saw Faith. "Oh, no."
Buffy struggled to her feet, hearing the others scramble after her. Buffy stumbled over dismembered demon bodies, pieces of the Mayor and abandoned weapons.
Faith didn't hear Buffy or the others. But she was quite aware of what was going on.
"Hey," she said, slipping her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans as she sauntered nonchalantly toward her companion. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Yes, it is a little odd, isn't it?" the Mayor agreed, peering around the empty grey space.
"Look, Boss," Faith sighed, lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry about…"
"Ah, forget it," the Mayor shrugged, waving his hand. "I understand."
"You do?" Faith looked up at him, eyebrows raised.
"Well of course," he grinned. "I always knew this would happen," he sighed, walked towards her, placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "You're a Slayer. I've been around for a long time and I know about Slayers. You never would've lasted as a Black Hat. You would have returned to the good side or the darkness would have destroyed you. I never wanted that for my little firecracker."
"I don't get it…"
"No, of course you don't. You're too young to understand. But I suppose you did a good thing. Not what I hoped would happen, but that's life. Or not, seeing as I'm dead now."
"So does that mean I'm… dead?" Faith took a step back from him, swinging around in a complete circle to take in the nondescript room. "This is what death is? Some empty room for eternity? Or is this Hell?"
"Hell?" the Mayor laughed. "No, Faith, this isn't Hell. This is what you might call Limbo. I'm dead, but you're not. Not yet."
"Am I going to die?" Faith asked in a small voice.
"If you did, firecracker, it's not such a bad thing. You ever see Hook, Faith? Death is the next great adventure. That's what Captain Hook said. Great man. So you see, Faith, it doesn't matter. Life, death, it's not a big deal. You don't stop. You just change."
"So I am going to die then?" Faith asked. "Can't see any other reason why you'd come out with all that."
"Head injuries are tricky things," the Mayor said sadly. "And you damaged your head two years ago when you fell from the building. You might be a Slayer, but you're only mortal."
Faith turned her head away, eyes shining. She didn't want to die. Oh God, she didn't want to die, not now.
"Don't I even get to say goodbye?" she asked. "They probably won't care, but I do. So much to say…"
"So little time," the Mayor nodded. "But why not? Anything my girl wants," he took her by the elbow, steering her in one direction. "She gets. But I guess I oughta say goodbye now. I won't be here when you get back. I'm taking the elevator to the basement. Oh, don't look so shocked. And don't you worry; you were never a truly bad girl, Faith, just misunderstood. By everyone but me. I understand you. I always have and I always will."
"I know," she said, glancing back at him. "I'm sorry, Boss. I had to choose."
"And you stayed true to yourself, good for you."
"Thanks."
"Now go on," he gave her a nudge and she took a step forward, felt the world shimmer around her. "And Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Rage against the dying of the light. Don't end up back here if you can help it."
He turned away from her, walking in the opposite direction as Faith carried on in hers. Behind her, she heard the fading cheeriness of the Mayor's voice.
"'Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, rage against the dying of the light…'"
She felt warm, sticky hands on her face when she came to. She saw concerned faces hovering over her, saw the sunlight glint off glasses as blue eyes frowned at her.
"Faith. Can you hear me?"
"Wha…?"
"Wes, is she ok?"
"I don't know," Wes pulled away doubtfully.
Faith's head and ribs ache. Her spin felt like it had gone a few rounds with a sledgehammer. Her vision was doubled and blurred and she felt sick to her stomach. She forced her eyes open as they slipped shut and peered at the group, trying to find Buffy.
"B?" she croaked.
"Yeah?" Buffy's voice was soft and Faith felt Buffy's hand slip into hers. Faith's hands felt frozen; she could barely move them for the cold. Why was she so cold? "It's going to be fine," she heard Buffy say. "We're going to make sure you're ok."
"Too hard to rage," Faith muttered. "Go gently…"
"Faith, c'mon, stay awake," Buffy urged, her voice verging on high-pitched desperation.
"Not this time," Faith answered. "Coma or bust, B. I'll go for bust."
"Oh no you don't," Buffy snapped.
"It's not so bad… Little bit grey… So what's new?"
"Faith - no! Don't close your eyes! Stay awake!"
"Just wanted to say g'bye, B. Sorry for… everything."
"Don't be sorry," Buffy gritted out. "Don't be sorry. That's giving up. Fight, Faith, that's what you've always been good at."
"Sorry, Buffy… Hope you had fun. Was it fun?"
"Kinda," Buffy admitted tearfully. "I guess you had fun."
"Always."
"Wes," Buffy sniffed hard and blinked away tears, looking over her shoulder at him. "Wes, can't you do something?"
"I'm sorry, Buffy…" Wes answered. "She's already had a head injury…. There's nothing I can do…"
"It's all right," Faith rasped. "It's fine. Poetic justice…"
"Faith?" Buffy's fingers clenched on Faith's jacket as her eyes closed. "Faith? Faith! Wake up! Wake the hell up! No! You don't get to do this! You're the pain in my ass, dammit! Wake up!"
"Buffy," Dawn said, touching her screeching sister's shoulder.
"No," Buffy whispered.
"Oh, Goddess," Willow breathed, turning her head away and closing her eyes. "It's all my fault."
"Sssh, sweetie," Tara said, pulling Willow into a hug. "It's not your fault."
"Come on, Buffy," Wes said in a low voice and tugged gently on Buffy arm, shooting Dawn a glance.
"Buffy, please," Dawn said, taking her sister's other arm, attempting to pull her away from Faith's bruised body. "She's gone, Buffy. She's gone."
"I know," Buffy murmured. "Oh God."
She allowed her sister and Wes to pull her to her feet and away from Faith.
"What do we do?" Anya asked.
"We should… We should go to the Mayor's, find Spike," Willow stated, eyes never leaving Faith.
"Yeah," Doyle nodded,. "We should, uh… Take Faith somewhere."
"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "I'll go find Spike and could you guys… take her to the garden? With the others?"
"Of course," Wes nodded, gave Buffy's arm a reassuring squeeze and elbowed Doyle.
Doyle frowned at him, then caught his look. He pulled his arm from around Anya's waist and dropped a kiss on her forehead before helping Wes lift Faith's body.
Buffy watched her friends' go, Faith's body slumped and broken between Wes and Doyle.
She didn't know why it hurt, she had thought she hated her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Faith had been trying to do the right thing, had been looking for redemption. Maybe Buffy had always hoped that Faith would realise it was a mistake, it just hadn't occurred to her that if it did happen, it would end so unfairly.
It wasn't fair that Faith chose the side that killed her.
Buffy sighed, rubbing her shoulder that ached after the rocket launcher's weight. She turned away and paused for a moment to stare across the battlefield.
"Oh… wow."
Buffy glanced at Willow who had joined her, also staring at the aftermath of the war.
The battlefield glittered in the early morning sunshine, glinting off the gore and slime. The horizon broken by crumpled demon bodies and chunks of the Mayor. Axes remained embedded in flesh and soil, swords lay broken, rocket launchers lay like metal logs and bolts scattered across the ground.
"I'm coming too," Willow said firmly, breaking the silence and turning to face her friend.
Buffy smiled, too tired to argue and allowed her best friend to walk beside her in companionable silence.