The Order – Chapter 6
Faith normally loved to wake up. She loved to see the bright morning sunlight filter through the windows in the morning. She adored the way that morning light seemed to pick out every tiny dust spec that was floating in the air, and she loved the strange silhouettes it cast on the walls. However, this morning, she just didn't appreciate the new day one little bit. The bright light hurt her eyes and made her squint, and the additional warmth shining down on her face was only adding to the humid feeling that surrounded her.
Faith rolled over onto her back, ignoring the rush of pain this caused her, and, gazing up at the pristine white ceiling, assessed how she was feeling. Her head was spinning like a constant headrush, and she could hear a strange hissing sound inside her ears that seemed to magnify the more she listened. Her back ached – it felt like a dozen gnomes had been tap-dancing along her spine – and, as her eyes scanned down her bruised body, she saw that she was extremely pale. Hell, her skin almost matched the colour of the ceiling. To top it all off, an overwhelming feeling of weakness shook her, not to mention the high-fever and the endless feeling that she was about to spew all over the place.
Well, better this than dead, and it had been a narrow escape. As Faith slowly swung her feet over the side of the bed, she tried to remember what had happened in that warehouse. How was she still standing here? Alright, sitting here. She placed one unsteady foot on the floor, and gently used down on it, cautiously testing if it could hold her weight. Her hands gripped the side of the bed and hoisted her body up. Her legs buckled, but she managed to catch herself in time, so she didn't slam to the ground. She determinedly pushed herself upright, wondering what on earth was wrong with her.
She hobbled along the narrow corridor, her eyes still blurry with sleep. Each step was agony, and her muscles protested at the strain they were put under. She passed open doors and empty rooms, before coming to a halt at the waist-high wall that over-looked the living area. She couldn't remember ever being this weak. She'd been tired before, of course. I mean, after fighting the hell-mouth or apocalypse, who wouldn't be? But, this was different. Her energy was completely sapped, and her mind kept wandering off to far off places. She desperately tried to remember the battle, but the same flashbacks played over and over in her head. She could recall Andrew tied tightly to a chair, her own foot kicking the Warehouse door off its hinges, and the masses of demons that awaited inside. Shivers chilled Faith's now-delicate body as she remembered the cool, evil voice inside her head, raiding her thoughts. Who was that, intruding into her mind? Had she fought off some big, telepathic evil? She didn't think so; she could remember the monsters, that's for certain.
She shook the blurred thoughts from her head and began to slowly make her way down the steps, hoping to be able to find some answers about the previous night.
"Last night?" Jack's sceptical voice echoed through the house, only increasing Faith's headache and making a vein on her forehead pump. Had he never heard of hushed tones? Her head felt like she was dealing with the world's worst hang-over; she didn't need the pirate yelling at the top of his lungs. "Darling, you weren't awake last night. You've been upstairs dozing for three days, while we've been down here forming a plan to defeat an army."
He stopped to take a large drink from the bottle in his hand, and Faith relished in the silence. She leaned further back on the sofa she was sitting on, and wondered whether the information she wanted was worth this torture. "Not that I blame you, love, a few of us were wounded, but you came off worse." He placed a dirt-caked hand on her shoulder – did he never wash? – but she shook it off immediately.
"Yeah, whatever, answer my question." Faith's tiredness was getting the better of her – had she really just woken up? It seemed like it had been hours – and though she tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, she was fighting a loosing battle. When she was in this mood, she really didn't want to have to be wrestling someone for a simple answer. "What the hell happened? Last thing I remember is…" She paused, unsure if telling the next part of her cheery little tale would be a mistake. Was it really a good idea to tell them about the voice she'd heard? She looked around at the beaten bodies of her allies; they were all pretty shook up. Last thing they needed to worry about was some insane voice in her head. "Last thing I remember is kicking some ass, tripping up, then I'm drawing a blank. If you'd fill in those blanks, I'd appreciate it."
The pirate smiled, not even taken back by her outburst. A wave of his breath moved over her, and she held in the temptation to run outside to get a breath of fresh air. "A lot of stuff's been happening since you last saw us, love."
"Urghh!" Faith let out a long-suppressed moan of anger, standing her foot on the floor. Was it physically impossible for Jack to ever give her a straight answer? Or, for that matter, for anyone to give her some real information? She was wondering whether a punch in the face might force some proper answers out of Jack, when Logan spoke out behind her.
"I couldn't see you during the fight, but Clark found you unconscious. We tried to drag you to safety and carry on without you, but…there were just too many. We had to get out of there." Faith swung her dark head towards Logan as he spoke, and continued listening. Finally, someone who was going to tell her what had happened. "When we got back here, we put you in your room and left you to yourself. That was roughly three days ago." He paused yet again, pointedly not meeting Faith's eyes. "We've been trying to think of a plan, but we just…can't. There's too many."
Faith was shaken by the last sentence. Too many? Logan didn't talk like that, did he? Logan was mean, cold, emotionless. The uncertainty in his voice was new to her, and she didn't like it one bit. If this was how he was feeling, how were the others reacting to this? Clark and Peter in particular; they seemed like the sort to lapse into despair.
"Don't…" For the second time in a few days, Faith considered letting Buffy completely take over and start preaching about how there was a 'long, hard fight ahead', but how they'd win. But, once again, she decided that that would be an extremely bad idea. She was already way too like B for her own liking. Besides, although the old Scoobie Gang's spirits had always been lifted by Buffy's droning, Faith had only been annoyed by the long-winded speeches. They always seemed to revolve around the fact that Buffy was the Chosen One. One, singular.
Faith took in a breath through gritted teeth, and knew that she had to change the subject if she was going to stay sane. Even just thinking about Buffy was enough to get her back up. "Yeah, well, if I was just knocked out, how come I'm like this? I'm freaking weak. I'm never weak." She raised her eyebrows expectantly, but wasn't sure whether or not they'd have an answer to give her.
There was silence in the room for a few seconds, before Andrew squeaked nervously. "You were kinda bitten." Faith's face remained blank for a few moments, as she felt her heart stop. The first thought that came into faith's head were of vampires, and this shook her. But she couldn't have been bitten by a vamp, she'd been a slayer for years and never been caught out. Why would it happen now, when she was more experienced than ever at kicking undead ass?
"Bitten by what?" Faith asked, with a hint of hope in her voice. She could feel bugs crawling up her skin, the dread climbing in her throat…she silently prayed that the word 'spiders', or 'snake', or even 'demon' was the answer. She could have handled anything but what followed.
"A vampire." This seemed to budge the stone that had been holding it all her frustration and anger. She screwed up her face, her features distorted, trying to find a way to cope with the mass of emotions that were taking over her head. There was a sickness inside of her, eating away at her insides. Faith couldn't count the nights she woken up in a sweat from nightmares of being bitten by a vampire. It had to be every slayer's worst nightmare, right?
Millions of thoughts were buzzing like crazy in her head, and, no matter how she tried to force them back, make them shut up, they wouldn't listen. They just kept on humming happily away, pointing out that a true slayer, a capable slayer, would have been able to protect herself. Wouldn't have gotten caught out.
Faith screamed in angst, leaping up from the sofa before kicking out at the nearest piece of furniture. She ignored that stab of pain this caused her, knowing that she'd feel better once she'd let it out; bottling up emotions wasn't good. It led to angst and tears and a whole world of pain. Definitely better to get it all out in the open, and destroy any ugly looking piece of furniture she could find.
Once she was finished with her tantrum, she could feel the silence in the room. As turned around to face them, after kicking the sofa she'd been lying on over to the wall, she met eyes that were brimming with shock. Except for Logan, Logan was…different. He didn't look as though he wanted to turn and run for the hills before she turned on him, but he didn't look sympathetic either. Instead, she saw the look of someone who was disappointed in her way of dealing with this.
She collected herself, taking a deep breath and realising that she completely agreed with Logan; that had been a really idiotic way of dealing. Having a tantrum was what three year olds did. That scream, was supposed to release all of the tension that had built up over the past few days, but all it did was remind Faith of how useless the situation was. She could scream, she could cry, she could destroy sofas, but it wasn't going to make a difference to what was going on around her. She felt helpless, and the only way that she could try and tackle this problem was in a Buffy-esque way; reasonably and calmly, doing the best for everyone. That wasn't really Faith's style. She was more a hit-the-road-when-thing-get-tough kinda girl, but, when she thought about it, that never did her any good. She shrugged her shoulder, then asked in the mildest voice she could manage. "Did I drink?" She paused, "I mean, did they turn me?"
Clark was the first person to recover from her outburst, and as such was the person to answer her question and give her some relief. "No, they just…bit." Faith let out a breath; she wouldn't have been able to survive if she'd been turned. How would she have known, anyway? It wasn't like you just woke up one morning and said 'hey, I'm a vampire. Let's go slaughter some innocents.' "That was before Logan came and rescued you." Clark added, turning towards Logan, who promptly looked at the ground. It was clear that he didn't want the attention focused on him.
"Oh, modest now, are we?" Faith turned her head to look at the source of the voice, a well-groomed Dorian. The voice seemed to be dripping with disdain, which was mirrored by the iciness in his glare. What did he mean by that? Faith raised her eyebrows at Dorian, inviting him to explain what the hell he was on about. Had something happened while she'd been out cold? By the way that Logan and Dorian were scowling daggers at each other, Faith was going to say that something had really happened.
Mind you, Logan wasn't exactly the easiest person to make friendly with. He had a presence around him the tended to cut off any conversation before it had even start. But, still, Logan looked ready to tackle Dorian to the ground, and that wasn't normal, even for someone as aggressive a Logan. "What are you talking about?" Faith's voice questioned.
"Oh, nothing." Dorian replied passively, with just the hint of a sneer. "Just Logan's sheer arrogance." He spat this last sentence, as if he was taunting Logan with it, which even Faith could see was not a wise thing to do. Logan, his face contorted with rage, bounding forwards and grabbed Dorian by the throat, slamming him hard against the stone pillar that towers above them. He raised his arm and punched Dorian square in the face; the loud thwack was two-fold, the first noise when Logan's fist collided with Dorian's face, the second when Dorian's head collided with the cool stone.
Logan pulled his fist back as Dorian's skin healed itself in a cluster of black smoke, and proceeded to land another blow, then another, than another, before his hand was caught mid-flight by Indiana, who, with great effort, wretched Logan away from Dorian. A though crossed Faith's mind; probably, the only reason that Indy had managed to pull them apart was because Logan hadn't been expecting it. She knew from experience that Logan had a strong grip, strong enough to force Faith – a slayer – against the tree in the graveyard.
"Look," Indy panted; pulling the two apart had clearly token then energy from him. "We should all take some time out and cool off. We've had a rough time these past few weeks; we just need to relax." Faith doubted that there would be much time for relaxing. There never was, at least, not in her experience. She reflected on her life since she was a fresh-faced potential, and couldn't remember ever getting the chance to 'cool off'. It was always school – if she wasn't suspended at that time – training, patrol in a vicious circle, never the chance to rest and let her guard down. Man, those pre-slayer years had been touch. Every other girl's biggest worry had been getting a date for the prom, or decided what to wear to school, while hers had been trying to figure out a way to avert the apocalypse. She'd wanted to quit this gig so much and get on with her life, and it had got to the stage where she didn't care if her decision to give up affected anyone. She'd just longed to be an average teenager. Well, okay, even if it was an average teenager with an alcoholic mom and some pervy step-dad's to look out for, that would still have been better than getting up every morning, putting on her face then going off to fight the forces of darkness.
Still, Faith reasoned, in the end it had sorta paid off. She couldn't imagine doing anything else, or being able to live the simple life without getting bored. As she awoke from her deep thoughts, she realised that everyone else had left, going some place or another, and leaving her in isolation. Good, she wouldn't have to deal with their concern, or answer their questions. Faith liked to be alone. She flopped down onto the sofa she'd kicked, and let out a long, weighty sigh.
