Authors Note; This is the prequel to my short one shot 'Final Night'. Which you wouldn't have to read to understand this, due to. Ya know, its status as a prequel. I'm dedicating this too RockerWolfPup who gave me the idea of doing a prequel. I'm working the story out as I go along, so bear with me, much. This will be my first Buffy; the Vampire Slayer, fanfiction that will be any significant length. So if anyone has any ideas, or comments, or just a compliment. Feel free to review, I always love to read what people have to say about my work. Thanks for reading and have fun!
Summary; In every generation there is one girl in all the world; That's not true anymore, is it? In this new day and age, there are two Slayers; a light and a dark; the tough and the soft. Opposites in every way, yet they have something in common with each other that they don't with any other; a shared destiny. Faith Lehane has awaken from her 'car accident' induced coma, and she was far from happy. Buffy Summers, thinking that her life finally, for once has settled; a steady boyfriend, friends, family. – Is about to be thrown upside down for a prophecy that is just the same dance its two players have had before; one to the death. Two Slayers, one outcome – Who'll come out on top, in a fight between the chosen two?
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Standing on that railing, she looked down as if there was nothing more natural. Perched on the stone wall, five stories from the ground. Her bare feet balanced barely on the balls of her feet, rocking ever so gently with the wind. Hair that would have colour in the day, seemed obsidian now in the moonless darkness of night. There was something feline about the way she poised, as if graphing the track her fall would have taken. That was how Buffy found her. Walking through what had once been a window, the shards of glass still laying forgotten on the ground. She stood behind her, not knowing if the dark woman would jump; it looked like she would.
"Come down, Faith" Finally she said, when there seemed to be nothing more to say. Faith turned her head, just a fraction to the side, letting those dark eyes flourish her with a look colder than black diamonds. Her hues were voids of absolutely nothing, they curled with a glitter. That should have given them life, should have made that look seem so much less frightening. But they looked like the eyes of a Doll; lifeless and observant. Buffy felt the pulse of her heart crash against the cage of her rib cage; something about that danger made her agitated. Her own hazel eyes, so light, were drawn to the dark figure looming before her. She waited for the words telling her to fuck off, to leave as she delved into the darkness she seemed to at home with. The night; the sin.
"You ever dream of flying?" Faith said, in such a distant tone, staying balanced so frigidly on her toes. Leaning forward, as if about to fall forward. Her hues drifted closed for a moment, as she righted herself. She let her presence fill her form, as she inhaled; her chest heaved forward with the breath, as she gazed at the fall before her. Her obsidian strands bristled around her in another gust of chilling wind. Her body reacting, obviously, through the material of her thin white wife beater.
"Yes…" Buffy didn't know where Faith was going with this. Looking at the other girl's thin wrist, she could see, with observation, the hospital band around her wrist. She knew what it said, she'd trailed her fingers lovingly over it merely an hour ago. Faith had let her trail her California tanned fingers across her toned stomach, and knead the muscles of her collar bone. She'd folded like it was what she craved, what she wanted; needed. Yet now, to see the passionate person she'd grown so in love with, so distant. So cold. She wanted to weep; not for herself, no. For the lose. Mourning something that was lost.
"I never did." She said is so simply, as if this was something that she shouldn't be concerned about. That she didn't miss out on some observant portion of her childhood. Yet now, she raised her thin alabaster arms. As if by command, a rustle of wind rolled past, bringing her obsidian coloured to ride it like a shadow. As those arms extended, like a great bird, there was a predatory aspect to the motion of her perching on the balls of her feet. Intense black marbles frigid and resting on the features of Buffy. Like a great Raven, spotting its prey. " It's a lot like falling, I bet. Except you think you're in control."
"Faith —" Buffy shuttered, she could hear the fear in her own voice; she seemed to be the only one afraid of how the taller woman perched just barely on the cement wall of the roof. Rocking so gently with the wind that called to her so silently, even her blonde-counterpart couldn't here. Swallowing, she wanted to step forward and through the darkness that seemed to curtain between them. Keeping her from leaping forward. But she wondered, would a single movement forward cause Faith to lose the fragile balance she had sustained to perch on that high ledge, and in the constant dark turmoil of her own mind. Hazel eyes darted to the edge of the cement wall, stories high and when she spoke again, it was a desperate plea. "Please, get down."
"You're not though." Her wide spread arms extended further, as her previously slouched shoulders rolled back, and let her gaze out with intense gratitude. As if thanking the night of its shadows, thanking it like she never could another human. Those dark marbles that turned to gaze at Buffy, were nothing that could be considered human. They was nothing in those hues, but pain. She looked every part the wounded animal; dangerous, and cornered. Her alabaster arms, crooked slightly, as she let them drop, a wry smile finding its way across her lips. As if desperate to speak the words she communicated to the night. She let out an uneven breath, shuttering and almost tipping forward. "You never are."
The silence between them stretched, just as the darkness that Buffy couldn't find in herself to cross; every confliction she found was a desperate plea for the younger Slayer to remove herself from the ledge she balanced on so slightly. The rocking motions the dark haired girl was making, made the SoCal Slayer nervous. One wrong move and Faith would fall—again, she would fall, but Buffy knew. This time she wouldn't have a chance to see those wounded obsidian hues again. She had to break the silence, before it broke what resolve she had; inhaling a deep breath, she'd take half a step forward, wary of the brunette's mental state of being; insanity was a very real thing with Faith, "Faith—Please, come down. We can talk."
"Do you remember the last time we talked, B?" The brunette whispered, while rocking on that stone wall; gazing downward at the ground so far below her. Bare toes curling slightly, long nails scratching against the cement she perched on. She no longer was looking over at Buffy, she seemed incapable of it; because now. She was looking inward. Comic books sprawled across her bed, music pumping through her ears, as she smiled. She could remember she had smiled; but then there was silence. Such silence as she found her blonde-counterpart perched with her finger on the stop button. Shaking her head, Faith inhaled, standing straight on the cement wall, she turned around to gaze directly at Buffy for the first time. She was smiling, her heels no longer on the wall, but hanging over the edge, leaving her barely balanced; yet she smiled wide. Dimples showing on her cheeks, dual rows of pearl white perfect teeth. She spoke, smooth waves of such a rich voice, vocal sexual pleasure; "Com'n, B. Give us a kiss—."
And then she fell backwards—Obsidian strands of hair billowing around her falling form as Buffy rushed forward with every ounc of her Slayer speed. But she wasn't fast enough—She never was, Faith was falling with that same smile on her features, her hospital scrub clad form falling almost in slow motion, since she had almost and eternity to turn her head to look at the ground below her; the pavement rushing to greet her with open arms. As she turned her hues back to look upward at their matching hazel pair, she barked a chuckle. The ground no longer waited for her; it had opened its arms wide, the pavement split open and fissured. Fire burning through the crack, screams of hell finding themselves resting in the ears of both Slayers. Faith was falling straight into a portal to hell, no metaphor for her life, but the literal thing. Buffy found her vocal cords, as she stretched her hand over the side of the building, trying to reach the falling girl.
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"Faith!" Snapping up from where she was tangled in her sheets, Buffy was breathing hard; her chest raising and falling violently. Dilating hazel eyes flickered around the room with parched breaths. It had seemed so real, still disoriented; she untangled herself from the pastel blankets and stumbled over to her window, opening them to gain much needed fresh air. Looking at the ground a story below her, she got paranoid for a moment, only a moment; no Faith, no falling. Buffy calmed down, slouching herself to the floor, head resting in her hands as she went over the mantra in her head. It wasn't real, it wasn't real. Faith is still in a coma, it so wasn't real. – And it was then, that her alarm went off for school, the chirping sound barely penetrating her clouded mind; the images flashing like memories she couldn't and wouldn't remember—Faith was falling, and she couldn't save her …
Hazel eyes opened; as she stared through her fingers at the carpet she sat on. She could hear her mother downstairs, already up and cooking breakfast, the scent rolling across the kitchen in waves of scented pleasure. Buffy raised herself, wearily to her feet, while swallowing back the bile that had been raising in her throat; she hated faithDidn't she? – But the thought of the younger slayer falling into such torment as hell, it shook her. The tension bleeding through her skin like a palpable thing. Inhaling a much needed breath, she went about the routine that she had set for herself; she would move on, she would take life as it came to her.
Destiny or not, she would live her life… – Wouldn't she?
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Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...
To the patrons of the hospital; that sound was a comfort. Whoever was hooked up to that machine, was alive in the only sense that mattered. Their heart beat, their lungs expanded. What more could someone want? The political stand point of the hospital staff; Talk to them, they can hear you. The grieving family and friend of coma patients rustled through the terminal care unit. These were bodies, to whom had been motionless for weeks, months, years, decades. And the family never came, the room were bright with flowers, balloons and cards. Get well! Proclaimed in different languages, as tear filled eyed mothers watch their children sleep in something so close to death, there was only that; a heart beat and a expansion of lungs. But no one gave up hope, they remained for years. Day after day coming in to tell loved ones about their trivial days, their ups and downs. As if it would help; much like talking to the dead. There never was an answer.
But they wanted to be there; for when their loved one's eyes opened for the first time; Months, or Decades. They wanted to be there.
But down, far on the end of the Terminal Care Unit, sat a darkened room. The glass paned door closed, and the lights out. Eight months, and there had been no movement. The doctors whispered to each other of the dark haired girl who had no family, no friends; nothing but a beating heart and a expansion of lungs, there were no whispers of a loved one's day, no cards proclaiming Get well! Or We miss you!—Just a silent room, with a forgotten member of society. No one was waiting around with that eternal hope, for those dark hues to open and settle upon them in a blurry haze. Past that curtain, was nothing more that another one of life's terminally unfortunate souls, who had nothing to look forward to, than years of a haunting past. There was something decidingly sad about the girl; something that was a mystery.
The Doctors were baffled by the girl, no older than sixteen, to whom lay sleeping, for eight months, and there was no reunion of family. Whispers amoungst the staff, as they laid out a past for this motionless figure; was she a run away? A murderer? Or was she simply lost in life, family out there looking for her? Was this state she was in, some macabre sign of love? Had she fought for love and lost? They laid such lavish detail, in a staff lounge. Sitting around each other, imploring into a world they knew nothing of. Why should they; her heart beat, and her lungs expanded. But they wanted more, the details. They wanted to know, even while in what seems, and eternal sleep, she frowned. She became a part of that Staff, she was never in the conversation but she was talked about. She had no family to speak of; but the Doctors. They would talk to her, tell her of their day, and try and make that eight month frown become a smile. They knew, she couldn't hear them; even if they told those desperate families they could. They knew; and yet, they couldn't help it. She was never spoken to by name, she was just 'Hey kid' or 'What's up, champ'—She was the daughter of every Doctor who wanted a child, but didn't have one. She was the symbol of forgotten, for those with a fissure in their family lines—Without a word, she had become some symbol of hope for those who had none.
But today? As the families bristled through the bright rooms of their loved one's, she remained motionless. Dark hair spread across her pillow, limbs numb from lack of movement. Features pale, unlike the slight tan she had, had when she was brought in. She remained, frozen in the drowned out voices from three rooms over, and the husband to whom had left his wife two decades earlier, yet she still visited. The brunette's lids flickered, as if she was merely asleep and having a nightmare; eight months of nightmares, so vivid, as she had no where else to live, but in that scape of nightmares. Living in hell for eight months. Her lids flickered more violently this time, as her heart rate raised; the mellow beep jumping four seconds in speed, much quicker; desperate. Her chest raised and fell in violent gasps of breath; head rolled listlessly to the side, head fretting lifelessly over the pillow, as her muscles coiled. Each limb shaking with the sudden tension in her rock hard muscles. Tone stomach bunched, as her body fought against her minds desire to wake up.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
There was a pulse; her body hummed with something the Doctor's couldn't understand. Inside her, not Buffy, was the destiny of the Slayer; She should be the one girl in all the world. She should fight the good fight, against evil. But, she was darkness, as well. She could feel the engulfing hatred that slowly blackened her heart, pulled her deeper into oblivion, let her taste the power that could be her's—Immortality in stories; she didn't care fot eternal life in body, she wanted to be someone important. She could get that through the darkness that beckoned her, promised her—All she could remember, was how delightful it felt to be a god. To hold the power of life and death in her hands; or had it only been death? Now, that her mind worked its details; she couldn't remember anything outside that feeling. The power. With such thoughts, her back arched off the hospital issue bed, her body straining again imaginary chains, that tried to hold her down. Hands scratching across the fabric, ripping it, as she tried to free herself from something that wasn't there.
Her limbs were heavy, restrained—She couldn't breath…
Some form of strangled sound was released from her throat, a raspy groan of pain, as she endured that inner turmoil Images flashed behind her flickering closed lids; Flash. "Give us a kiss" A smile. Flash. "You did it, B. You killed me." Flash. Falling, air rushing past her as she fell towards the ground, yet she could look behind her. There would be no truck this time, just fissuring pavement. Flash. Hell. The burning torture that ran through her limbs, as she grunted a scream. Scolding hot pain washed over her body as her limbs bucked her torso upward. No peace; no solace. Just pain, hot pain flowing through every nerve of her body. Flash. "Kill me, please! Kill me!" It was raining, thunder crackled above head, as she clutched at the coat of an unknown male figure. Her own tears mixed with the rain washing over her broken features; obsidian doll eyes glittered with sorrow and pain. Flash. Darkness. Flash. A knife. Flash. Flames. Flash. A scream. Flash. Falling. Flash. Hazel eyes…
Everything went silent, as her body grew motionless once more, beating heart, level breathing—… As obsidian coloured hues hesitantly slid open, viewing the white clad room, for the first time.