The atmosphere in the house dropped dramatically after that, and the pressure began to build up heavily against Faith's head. It was killing her. It had been a couple of hours since they'd enjoyed a visit from 'the Messenger', and no one had a clue what to do. Andrew was sulking in his room, obviously offended by having a demon threatening everyone in their 'lair', whereas most of the others were simply wandering around the place aimlessly.
Faith was out in the gardens, trying to gather her thoughts. It was obvious that they had a big fight coming up, and that worried her. Even though they were a ridiculously strong army in their own right, there were only eight of them. If this demon army was anywhere near as huge as she imagined it would be, they'd just be swamped. She wondered if it would maybe be worth considering calling in a few other slayers.
She sat down on the perfectly mowed lawn, leaning back against a small wall that surrounded one of the many flowerbeds. A glance up at the sky told her that the sun was still shining happily, which seemed crazy. After what had just happened to that demon back there, she wanted it to be dark and dismal. Would match her mood, and the weather really should simply bucket down whenever she felt this angry. Which, recently, had been a hell of a lot.
She could hardly believe that she'd only been with the Order a couple of days. Felt like a whole lifetime. Her whole life felt like it had been hundreds of years too long, because each singular event seemed like it had been acted out by a different person. It couldn't have been her that stood by and watched as her watcher was tortured and killed, it wasn't her that had ran off without warning to Sunnydale, hoping to find refuge in a blonde little slayer called Buffy. It hadn't been her that had felt so jealous of B and her friends, for having everything that she didn't. The hand that had killed the deputy mayor wasn't hers, and her mind had belonged to another when she'd turned towards the Mayor for help.
The sun's rays were prickly on her skin, and Faith's hands had curled themselves into loose fists. That whole experience back there had been…intense, to say the least. Everyone was shaken up, and she was doing her best to stay together. She was a Slayer, one of the Chosen hundred or so that there were in the world. More importantly, she'd been dealing with this kind of thing for years. Felt like it was kind of her duty to keep herself together throughout everything. Because, if she didn't, who would?
Two days time…two days to get themselves together and ready to, presumably, take on an army. The slayer groaned, and thrust her elbow into the wall behind her with the strength she had been blessed with. Some of the skin was scraped off roughly, but she barely felt the blood that began to leak out. It didn't matter, it was just a cut that would have healed over by the time they went out to face almost certain death.
She was perilously close to having a tantrum, even though she knew that this was her purpose, this was what she had been born to do; to fight back demons, and to stop the dark from taking over the world. Didn't make actually doing it any easier, but it helped her to feel better about the up-coming challenge that they were going to face. She was a Slayer, the latest in a line of skilled warriors. And, backing her up and fighting by her side would be some of the most amazing people she'd ever met.
She stood up, collecting her thoughts and trying to decide on the best course of action. The wound on her elbow was beginning to sting, and a slow line of rose-red blood had begun to twirl its way around and down her arm. It would probably be best to patch it up – wouldn't really do for her to get it infected. Reluctantly, she made her way towards the kitchen, where the First Aid kit was stashed under the sink.
The curious – and worried – looks that the other's handed Faith as she wandered past them were duly ignored. It wasn't any of their business why her arm was bleeding, and how it had come to happen. If any of them so much as looked like they were going to ask her, she'd tell them where to get off; to tell them to mind their own business, and leave her to mind hers.
Within a couple of minutes, a bandage had been wrapped tightly around the wound. She wasn't an expert in any manner, so it was hardly professional but…it would do. She sighed, now that she no longer had anything to occupy her mind with. She needed something, anything, to keep her thoughts away from a subject that terrified her.
Without a word, she began to head towards the training room, hoping to be able to beat the thoughts out of her head. It wouldn't do any good to dwell too much on it, would it? She was a Slayer – for her, it was best to act out on impulse instead of agonising over every little detail. Which meant, no plans, no counting, no organising…just a whole load of violence.
That punch-bag was in for one hell of a beating.
Two days passed far too quickly. The hours ran off quicker than Faith knew how to fill them, and before she knew she had to be ready to face down a challenge. And, despite all of her earlier hopes of becoming pure energy, of not planning ahead, of not paying any attention to the fear that coursed through he body, Faith was scared. Not that she'd ever give that little gem of knowledge to anyone, but she was having serious doubts.
Of course, this really wasn't the time to be having them – a few feet away from entering the Warehouse they'd been ordered to go to. But, as confident as she was in the group's collective abilities, there was no way they were taking on an army. A group? Sure. A gang? Definitely. An apocalypse? Bring it on…a huge mega-watt army of demons? No way.
The Order was strong, that much Faith was sure of. But, they weren't that strong. To defeat the last army she'd faced, a bunch of uber-ugly super-vamps, it had taken a big bunch of newly activated Slayers, as well as a neat little amulet courtesy of Spike. This time, she had a few oddly matched guys with powers. And, though the powers were definitely impressive, there was no way that she could see a way to actually win the upcoming fight. The odds were just stacked crazily against them.
It was too dangerous for Andrew to come along, although he'd protested violently – well, annoyingly – about that fact. In the end, with a glint in their eyes, they'd pushed him onto one of the dining chairs, taped up his mouth to stop him from yelling to Charlie, and tied him tightly to the arms of the chair. Of course, even like that he'd attempted to follow them, with the chair stuck to his backside, his mouth mumbling muffled insults, and looking like an over-grown turtle. After that, they'd tied his legs up as well and abandoned him.
Her legs were still complaining, and trying to force her to turn around, when they paused for a moment outside. Electricity seemed to crackle between the seven people lined up outside, and in that instant Faith knew she wasn't giving up on this. Why should she? Beside her stood a farm-boy from Kansas who could probably kill demons with one swipe of his hands, a mutant with some weird metal-claw-like-things, an immortal, a guy with a kinky whip…they could handle this, right?
She smirked, knowing that it was Buffy Summers invading her head and giving her pep talks, but she didn't really care. Although the older Slayer was definitely a little long-winded for her, B had somehow managed to infiltrate her thoughts, whispering long speeches whenever she felt unsure. And, at that second, she was glad to have some encouragement. Hell, she needed some support.
"Here goes…" She mumbled, taking the lead, seeing as no one else seemed willing to, and moving towards the door. No one else spoke, but she could feel them behind her, ready to follow. Her heart had decided to do its impression of a humming bird, and Faith didn't know if she'd ever been this nervous. Still, it didn't show on her face, nothing did.
She lifted her foot, sending a snap-kick at the door that sent it flying. The sound of breaking hinges was great, a sound she loved. The sound of shocked breaths from within the warehouse was even better. Obviously, whoever was in there was just as nervous about this was she was, and that was good. Best to make a powerful impression, right?
Her boots – black, of course, to match the rest of her outfit – made a loud clatter as she strode into the area, oozing confidence. She just wished it was a confidence that she could feel. Still, as long as these demons thought she wasn't scared of them, she was willing to act as cocky as she needed to.
Of course, the sight inside the Warehouse would be enough to send any normal slayer running for the hills, but Faith'd proved more than once that she wasn't exactly on the right side of sane. But, even so, staring out at a mass of fairly vicious looking demons, Faith's stomach did a back flip.
You see? They're nothing… A voice sounded loud in her head, cold and uncaring. Faith glared around the area in front of her, not turning as she felt the rest of the Order fan out behind her. Worse than nothing, because they think they're something. It hurt her head, sharp pain shooting right down the centre of her brain, just to listen to that voice. It was cold, cruel, evil. Shivers whispered up and down her supine, and her brain felt violated.
"Look, are we actually going to fight, or are you just going to hiss in my mind all night?" Faith asked, wanting the voice to shut up so that they could get back to the violence; violence she was good at. Handling telepathy, not so skilled at. If these demons would just attack, instead of standing there, staring at them blankly. Of course, maybe the safer option would be to quietly slip out the door, but Faith never had been one for the hazardless route. Risk-a-minute was more her style.
There was a beat, one that stretched out over the silence, and Faith could feel her blood pounding in her ears. There was so much tension clammed into the warehouse, she felt like she was just breathing it in. It clogged her lungs and constricted her chest, but she hardly noticed; it was hard to breathe in the stress-filled second. Hard to even think about breathing, when so much obviously lay with what happened next, with whatever the telepathic voice was thinking.
Luckily, things soon began to spring into action. Whether or not being swarmed by countless demons was a good sort of action, Faith couldn't tell. But, she could deal with demons – dealt with them nightly – and it was definitely better, for her, to be fighting than listening to disembodied voices. Demons…demons she could
With a grunt, she slammed her fist into the face of the first demon that came within her reach. Her fist hurt afterwards, but it didn't matter; pain was nothing when she was fighting, nothing but a mild annoyance and a mere distraction. Emotions, senses, feelings…all were a blur as she lost herself in the violence, concentrated on staying alive and nothing else. The sword she'd brought with her got lost somewhere in the fight, after helping her disconnect a few heads from a few necks, so she had to rely on her body, on the muscles and reflexes she'd built up over all her years as a slayer.
Hit, kick, punch, block, duck…moves that she could perform in her sleep. She would never be Buffy Summers – the infamous blonde was, as people liked to remind her, the 'original, no substitutes slayer' – but Faith could fight like an animal. She could let herself go and simply react; something that precious Buffy had never been able to do. Not that anyone cared, or even notice. To them, Buffy was everything a Slayer should be, and nothing Faith did could ever match up to her. Constantly living in someone's shadow grated on your nerves after a few years.
Backhand to the face, followed immediately by a short punch. The demon wouldn't have even known what was happening until there was blood running out of his nose, and Faith had spun around to deal with another demon. There were so many, they were crowding her and she couldn't see what was happening, on the rare occasions that she remembered she wasn't alone in this fight and took a quick check around her.
Faith wasn't the tallest of people in the world, and with bloody-thirsty demons at every side, she just had to hope that the others could handle themselves. They had to be able to stand up for themselves, because she couldn't be around to save them. And, as a slayer, she was used to saving people. Used to being the dark stranger that ripped them from the jaws of death, told them to run, told them to leave it to her. She was kinda a super-hero, except without the spandex.
She was still lost in thought and in the fight when her feet were pulled from under her, and her body was sent crashing to the ground. An agonised moan escaped her lips, as the demons got their act together and attacked in a group, kicking and clawing and ripping and biting and there was so much pain she couldn't think, but she needed to get up and keep on fighting, she couldn't relaxed, couldn't stop, couldn't…
A/N : Sorry about the delay...I forgot to write the chapter...
