A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
Omega Rising
The door closes and locks behind us. Alone in the empty upper floor of the warehouse, we look at each other. No supplies. No car. And sunset's on the way. So much for that short trip to the Hyperion.
Chapter 5: The Prophecy
If anyone out there isn't absolutely convinced that pollution and global warming and all that crap is a huge problem, a walk through the pitch black streets of LA with zombies ready to take a chunk outta them should be enough to convince them. There is no light here. No stars, no streetlamps now that the power grid is off. There's the barest hint of light from the moon, but it's not enough for Kim and Wes to really see. We're basically crawling along after the sun goes down. Kim is behind me, hands on my waist, while Wesley brings up the rear, clinging to her shirt. I got the slayer vision working for me, guiding us around burned out cars and other crap clogging the streets. It's a whole different world down here from the more rural area we passed coming from the prison. One block has mismatched sneakers strewn all over the street. Footlocker sits empty.
The panic down here must have been insane. Looters in all the stores, dropping their sneakers and TVs once they realized that the government had gotten it right for once. The apocalypse is here. Up ahead on the left, your friendly neighborhood Footlocker employee is on his knees. He picks up a sneaker and brings it to his drooling mouth. Biting ferociously, he shakes his face side to side and tears off a chunk of leather. He growls in disgust and spits the sneaker out. Dropping that shoe, he dives for another and repeats the routine. It would be pretty funny if the course of the wind didn't change at that exact moment. My hair ruffles, and I can smell the stale sweat coming off my companions. The zombie sits up slowly, the tongue of his latest attempted snack clenched between his teeth. He sniffs the air experimentally, and then his jaw springs open, and the sneaker thumps to the ground.
"Gotta move fast," I mutter before picking up speed. Wes and Kim shuffle after me, squinting in the darkness. The dead dude is climbing to his feet. His uniform is ripped to shreds, but as he stumbles into my path, I can still make out the name monogrammed there. "Need a minute!" I bark, and Kim's hands fall away from my hips. She and Wesley press back against one of the abandoned cars and let me do my thing.
"Let's go, Jamal," I say, and the zombie groans back. His arms extend toward me, fingers opening and closing desperately. My weapon at the moment is a length of pipe that used to belong to a traffic light. I step forward with my left foot, planting my right and cocking my pipe up like a bat. Jamal shambles forward, and I wait until his hands are almost on me before I swing as hard as I can. The pipe meets his skull, and the effect is instantaneous. His body slackens and drops to the concrete. Looking at his lifeless body, I feel a little sick to my stomach. Jamal was just a dude working at Footlocker. Maybe he had a baby at home. Maybe he was saving up money for college classes. He could have been anything. But now he's lying in this sneaker graveyard with a crushed skull.
"Best to keep moving." Wesley's voice is low. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and yank the pipe free of the zombie's head. Taking my position in front again, I lead the way into the dark.
XXXXX
Six blocks later, I'm on the ground with the worst breath I've ever smelled hitting me full in the face. I'm holding the owner of that breath by the throat, trying to get enough leverage to shove him off. His huge, clumsy hands are yanking my hair with all his might, trying to get my neck closer to his mouth. Somewhere nearby, I hear Kim's victorious little yelps as she and Wesley take on another.
One zombie I could handle. The problem is that I'm barely keeping another one from tearing my throat out at the same time. I've got that one pinned to the cement with my elbow on the side of his face, but I know that's not going to hold him for long. I'm struggling to hold them both off. Every move I run through my mind only ends with one of them biting me. It's a lose-lose situation.
Keeping my upper body taut, I try wiggling my knees up, under the thing's torso. Maybe I can flip his body backward, away from me. The zombie pinned under my left arm slides, shit, he's almost free! It's now or never so I inhale hard, ready to kick and then… he goes limp over me. I look up to see the razor sharp point of a dagger protruding from the dead guy's forehead. A pale, smiling face peers around the corpse. "Need a hand?"
"Angel." I greet nonchalantly, while using my now free hand to break the other zombie's neck.
"It's good to see you, Faith." He extends a hand and yanks me to my feet, directly into a tight hug.
I pull back after a moment, grinning like an idiot. I've never been so happy to see someone before in my life. "How did you find us?"
He gestures behind him to an idling truck. "We've been looking for survivors and supplies. You've got people with you?"
I step aside, and Angel peers back to the winded Wesley and Kim. "Wesley?" They do that thing that men do that passes for hugging. I'm grinning at our good luck when something catches my eye in the distance.
Long blonde hair. Thin back. My throat constricts painfully. The sounds of the group talking seem to fade away. Feet moving of their own volition, I step away. The figure in the distance turns her head slightly. A flash of perfect, pale cheek. My own heartbeat drums unevenly in my ears. Can it be her? I take another step, and then a warm hand encircles my wrist.
"Faith?" Kim's confused voice draws my attention. "Where are you going?" I glance back at her, standing in front of the equally perplexed Angel and Wesley.
My gaze swings back to where I saw her a moment before. There's a woman alright, but she's moving now, definitely in a shambling way. That's not her. Of course it's not. Jesus, Faith, get it together.
"Thought I saw something." I give them a casual shrug, gently pulling my arm free from Kim's grip. "It was nothing."
"Well, that's not nothing," Kim points ahead of me to a small group of the dead who are on the move toward us.
"Let's head back," Angel says, leading the way to the truck. Sitting in the back with a couple of guys, I rub my tired eyes, trying to erase the image of the girl from the street. Whoever she used to be, it wasn't Buffy Summers. She wasn't Buffy. And I'm okay. We're all okay. We found Angel, and we're safe now. Rinse, lather, repeat. Everything's going to be okay. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll start to believe it.
XXXXX
The good thing about using a hotel for your post apocalyptic headquarters is that everybody gets their own room. Mine is pretty fancy, although I'd be happy as hell with anything after the cell I've been in for the past couple months. The shower is cold, but at least there's still running water. I come out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my goodies, and Cordelia's perched on the edge of my bed.
I stiffen. "Cordelia. Still among the living, huh?"
She gives me an icy smile in return. "And you are, too. Isn't that nice?"
Not willing to let her intimidate me, I move closer, so the bed is the only thing separating us. "Something you wanted?"
"Brought you some clothes." Sitting beside her on the bed is a small pile of clothes. It's not much but it's not covered in zombie bits, which is more than I can say for what I wore in.
"Thanks," I almost choke on the word. I know I did her wrong, punching her out and all that, but for some reason I can't bring myself to care too much. Cordelia's always been a bitch. I have no idea how Angel deals with her.
Nodding, she heads for the door. Cordelia pauses with her hand on the knob and turns back.
I raise my brow questioningly.
She sighs. "Wesley says I should give you a shot. That you're on our side."
He did? I know he stopped watching his back around me all the time, but I didn't think he really trusted me. "It's either be on Team Human or become a zombie, so…"
"Yeah." She stares at me for another moment. "Good night then."
After she leaves, I let my towel drop. I stand in front of the mirror and lift my leg. The bites have healed, but the skin around them is still discolored. At least by now I know I'm probably not going to become one of them. It must be a slayer thing. Accelerated healing makes us immune to the zombie bug.
I don't bother putting on clothes before I crawl into bed. If the dead come, I'll fight 'em naked. If I can do it with vamps, I can do it with zombies.
XXXXX
I bump into Kim coming out of my room in the morning.
"Hey." She looks relieved to see me.
I nod good morning. "You eat yet?" She hasn't, and we follow the sound of voices into the kitchen. I am full on starving. Hope Angel's been keeping the pantry stocked with more than O negative.
Angel is standing at the counter, talking to a couple people I've never met before. He notices our entrance and waves us in. "Kim, Faith, this is Gunn," he gestures to a handsome, bald man who looks me up and down with a smile, "and Anne." The small blond woman he points to smiles in greeting. Angel continues, "Anne runs a homeless shelter nearby."
We exchange greetings and help ourselves to some not quite fresh bagels and the last few oranges.
I hop onto the counter beside him and sink my teeth into a bagel. "Where's everybody?"
Just as I ask, Wesley strides in, carrying a fraying scroll under his arm. Cordelia trails after him, holding some extra candles.
"You got something?" Angel asks.
"Not very much, I'm afraid." Wesley unrolls the scroll carefully across the table. With the windows boarded up, only a little of the daylight has made its way into the kitchen. Cordelia lights extra candles to illuminate the scroll. As Wesley leans forward, the candlelight flickers across his face. His gaze flicks to me. "We discovered a prophecy just before the… event began. I was working on translating it, but unfortunately, as you know, I was a bit sidetracked."
Cordelia pats him comfortingly on the shoulder.
"Regardless, I've completed a very rough translation now. It foretells the end of mankind, when the dead will walk the earth."
"Information that would have been helpful before the salesclerk at Nordstrom's tried to eat me."
"Yes," Wesley agrees patiently, "thank you, Cordelia."
"Do we know what caused this?" Anne interjects, getting the conversation back on track.
"The prophecy doesn't specify." Wesley peers down, muttering as he reads, "Flesh-eaters will overrun the earth…The Omega will come… that's about it. The prophecy is either incomplete or extremely vague."
"Omega?" I ask.
"It means 'the end.'" Wesley looks over grimly. "This is the end of life as we know it. Our extinction event."
"Well, that's bleak." Kim laughs bitterly.
"Okay," Angel steps forward, sipping from a mug that reads 'Kiss the Vampire!' "I don't care about what that thing says. As long as we're alive, we've still got a shot."
His words bolster the mood in the room a little bit. "Do we know anything else?" Angel looks at Wesley.
Cordelia and Wesley exchange nervous glances.
"What?" Angel asks. "What is it?"
"Well," Cordy clears her throat and looks at Wes. He nods in support, and she squares her shoulders and meets Angel's eyes. "When this thing started, we were tracking the location of outbreaks. After Wes went missing, I kept up with it. I guess I was hoping it could be contained, or we'd at least get a sense of where might be safe…" She trails off, looking to Wesley.
"Spit it out, guys. What's the deal?" I hop off the counter, moving to stand beside Angel.
Wesley takes the lead. "As far as we can tell, the outbreak originated in Sunnydale."
Next to me, Angel's body goes rigid.
"Shit," I whisper. Kim shoots me a questioning glance, and I shake my head.
"I'm going." Angel announces, in a voice that leaves little room for argument.
"Angel," to her credit, Cordelia's voice is very gentle, "I have people there that I care about, too. But I don't think you understand what we're going into."
Angel goes to the counter and practically slams his mug into the sink.
"Angel," Wesley tries to argue, "be reasonable—"
"No," Angel growls fiercely. "You don't understand. She is the only thing that matters to me. I'm going. Stay here if you want to. But I'm going."
His staff exchange worried glances as Angel storms from the room.
"Well, that went well." Wesley's voice is dry.
"You had to tell him," I reassure them. "He deserves to know."
"What's in Sunnydale?" Anne asks innocently.
Sighing, Cordelia tells her, "His soul mate."
Buffy.
XXXXX
Angel's shoving weapons into a bag when I nudge his door open with my toe. "You can't change my mind," he warns me without even looking up.
I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest. "Wouldn't think of it, big guy."
"I'm serious," Angel growls, zipping the bag closed.
"I know." I kick off the door, stepping into the room. "I'm going with you."
Surprised, Angel meets my eyes. "No."
"You need someone to watch your back," I remind him.
"This isn't your fight, Faith."
"Whole world's gone to hell. It's everybody's fight now."
Angel looks like he wants to keep arguing, so I change tactics. "You think it's gonna do B any good if you get yourself killed rushing down there?"
His eyes bore into mine for a long moment before he finally shakes his head.
"Glad that's settled," Gunn's cheerful voice interrupts us. He stands in the doorway, a wide grin on his face. "When do we leave?"
XXXXX
"Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?" Cordelia stands in front of the now unboarded exit, arms crossed in front of her.
"Cordy," Angel sighs, "I'm sure."
Tears shine in her eyes as she nods and steps aside. In the dark garage, Gunn is loading a bag of weapons into his truck while two of his crew keep guard with bats.
Wesley, Kim, and Anne are crowded into the hallway with us. I pass my knapsack to Angel, and he heads for the truck.
"Be safe," Wesley advises, offering his hand.
"In Sunnydale?" I joke, shaking it.
He smirks before stepping back to put his arm around Cordelia, who is wiping tears from her cheeks.
I turn to Kim, and she slips her arms around me. I feel a little guilty leaving her, but I know she'll be safe here. Well, as safe as you can be anywhere. She sniffles into my hair. "Hey," I rub her back a little awkwardly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll see you soon."
"Right." She pulls back, rubbing her hand under her nose quickly. "Of course. I know that." She forces a smile.
"Faith, you ready?" Angel appears back at my side.
"Yeah." Looking to Kim again, I flash her a grin. "Take care of yourself."
"I will."
"Sleep with a pan under your pillow, alright?"
She laughs, wiping a few escaping tears away. "I will." She lifts her hand like she'll touch me before she drops it to her side.
Bumping her with my elbow, I head for the door, leaving Angel to say his goodbyes.
Gunn tilts his chin at me in greeting as I walk up to the truck. "He coming?"
"Yeah, in a minute."
Heading for the passenger door, I hear footsteps rushing across the concrete toward me. I turn in time to catch Kim as she flings herself into my arms. Her hands sink into my hair, and she presses her mouth to mine. Surprised, I barely have time to respond before she slips out of my arms.
"What was that for?" I yell after her, as she jogs back to the open door.
"Good luck!" She calls over her shoulder.
I grin, opening the door and climbing in the cab.
Gunn gives me a knowing smirk.
"Shut up, man," I try to look ferocious.
He holds his palms up. "I'm just saying, I could use some good luck, too."
XXXXX
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