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Chapter 5
Buffy rolled over in bed, opening her eyes and breathing the deep first breath of consciousness. Blinking twice, she sat up, a hand reaching instinctively to push at her hair, which felt as listless and without life as she did. She looked over at the clock on her bedside table, noticing with alarm that she had been sleeping almost all day. The light outside was growing dim with the approach of sundown, casting long shadows across her room like the fingertips of dark creatures.
Her tongue came out to lick at her lips. They felt dry and sore. In fact, Buffy realised, she didn’t feel any better for sleeping all day. She still felt as drained and lethargic as she had this morning. And her temper hadn’t improved much either, she thought, grimacing at the stiffness that was crawling across her shoulders.
What’s wrong with me? She thought almost fearfully. It wasn’t as if she felt sick, it was just that she felt…..well, un-Slayer like. She’d never needed a lot of sleep, thriving on the cut and thrust of her patrols, always keeping relatively healthy despite the junk she ate. But today, she couldn’t seem to get going. It was as if her Slayer strength had left her momentarily. Gone patrolling without her.
Giles.
She remembered Willow saying something this morning about meeting at Giles. She had even more reason now to see him. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up and swayed, a dizzy sensation hitting her with the force of at least five vampires. Putting a hand to her head, Buffy felt a chill run up and down her back. The need to see Giles increased. He’d know what to do.
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“I’m not sure I know what to do.” Giles removed his glasses and ran a hand through his hair abstractedly, glancing down at the worried face of Buffy, sitting rigidly on the sofa in front of him. As soon as she had walked in, he had noticed how pale her face was, how the dark rings around her eyes accentuated the weary tone in her voice.
She had spent all of five minutes explaining her symptoms to him, her voice low and urgent. Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya had not said a word since Buffy had practically burst through the door, the worried look on her face hushing them into mute silence.
They looked at Giles now, concern widening their eyes. Willow moved from the chair where she and Tara were huddled to sit beside Buffy, taking the Slayer’s calloused hand in her own small, pale one.
“We’ll work this out,” she murmured softly, her words not even registering with Buffy.
“I think the first thing to do is to find out exactly when this started.” Giles said, pacing back and forth to his bookshelf. He replaced his glasses and rubbed at his forehead. “You say you patrolled last night?”
Buffy nodded. “Yeah, although it was kind of a waste of time. I dusted a couple of vamps, nothing more.”
“And there was nothing out of the ordinary?” Giles frowned.
“Nothing.” Buffy shrugged. “I went home, slept, got up and felt like someone had dropped a house on my head.” She looked down at the little hand holding her own, rested in her lap. “I was crabby.”
Willow gently squeezed her hand, rubbing her fingers. “You weren’t that bad.”
“No, I was horrid.” Buffy said, her voice catching a little in her throat. She looked round the room at the people closest to her, wondering at how much she needed them. “Giles, I just can’t seem to get it together,” she looked up at her Watcher, “I don’t seem….you know, Slayerish.”
“M-maybe it’s a spell?” Tara’s voice made all eyes turn to her, sitting quietly at the other side of the room. “Some kind of enchantment or curse or something?” she added, self-consciously pushing back the hair from her face.
“You and Willow research that.” Giles said, as the two girls exchanged a nod with each other. “Buffy, you need to rest.” As the blonde Slayer opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand, “You need to try to keep as much of your strength as you have left. It won’t do any good for you to patrol alone.”
“She won’t be alone.” Xander stood up from where he and Anya sat with their arms round each other. Anya slipped back into the chair behind him with a scowl on her face. “I’ll go with her Giles. You know, make sure she’s ok.”
“I don’t know whether that’s such a good idea.” Giles looked down at Buffy, whose eyes were widened and expectant. Glancing between her and Xander, he pursed his lips and sighed. “Well if you must…”
“I must.” Buffy said, standing. She looked round the room. “Thanks you guys. Xander?”
He nodded, following her out of the door. Giles folded his arms across his chest and sat down in his armchair, a worried look on his face. “This just hasn’t happened before,” he said, “there’s no record of a Slayer losing her strength like this in the Watcher’s Diaries. It could have terrible consequences for Buffy if she can’t fight any more. For us all.”
“Yes,” Anya leant forward on her chair, “You would be unemployed.”
Willow shot her a sharp look and frowned, shaking her head. Giles glanced across at the ex-demon with a distinctly British look on his face. “Technically I am no longer Buffy’s Watcher Anya, although, suffice it to say, I will always be interested in her Slayer activities.”
Shrugging, Anya stood up, smoothing down her cotton print dress with both hands. “She could just be ill.”
“Buffy doesn’t get ill.” Willow said quickly, then stopped, remembering the time when Buffy had indeed been ill and hospital-bound. “Well hardly ever, she’s the Slayer, she has all that,” she waved her hand around, “Slayer immune system thingy.”
Giles placed a hand on his chin, rubbing his fingers back and forth. “But if Buffy is unable to patrol, at least until we find out what is wrong with her, time is hardly on our side.”
“What about Faith?” Tara glanced across at Willow, who nodded emphatically.
“Ooh, yes! Ready made replacement Slayer!” she bobbed up and down in her seat. Previously to Buffy’s arrival, she had told Giles everything about their visit to England, realising halfway through the story that he had already heard on the Watcher’s grapevine. However, he had politely waited until she had finished telling him her version of events, expressing not a little annoyance at the Council way of dealing with things. Her vindication of Faith had almost convinced him, though Giles kept most of his reservations to himself. He, more than anyone, was able to see that Faith was a very troubled young woman. And that worried him greatly.
Now, however, he was unable to see past Buffy’s condition without relying upon desperate measures. Sighing, he closed his eyes briefly. “I’m not sure Buffy would see it like that,” he murmured, “However, in light of current events, I don’t see that we have any other option. Willow,” he turned to the redhead on the sofa, “you and Tara inform Faith of what’s happened, then look for spells. Anya and I will research the Slayer chronicles here.”
“Me?” Anya huffed, flopping down onto her chair again, “How come I always get stuck with you and the books?”
“Because we need all the help we can get.” Giles stated bluntly, ignoring the blatant insult. “And the sooner we get started, the quicker we can find out what exactly is happening here.”
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Reeling back, Buffy pulled back her arm to send a fisted punch into the vampire’s face. She and Xander had been in the cemetery for only a few minutes before three vamps ambushed them. Dispatching of one of them had taken most of the strength that Buffy had left; now she was feeling more than a little tired. The blow she struck the vampire jerked his head back on his neck, but did little more than stun him momentarily.
He was a young man, probably in his late 20’s, once quite handsome, but now his face was ridged and grey, yellow eyes shining out from underneath his overhanging brow. He had at least four or five inches of height over Buffy and she was sure that beneath his leather jacket his arms were strong and muscled. He grinned at her, revealing his pointed fangs, framed by darkened lips.
“That all you got Slayer?” His voice had a mocking tone to it that infuriated her, although she felt powerless to do anything about it. He stood back, holding out his arms and crooking his fingers at her. “Come on, gimme your best shot.”
Eyeing him fiercely, Buffy shrugged. “Don’t say you never asked for it.” She spun herself in a roundhouse kick, realising halfway through that he had dodged her slow movements easily. The force of the kick spun her round in a full circle before she lost her balance and landed painfully on the ground, the wind knocked out of her. The vampire’s laughter floated down to her ears as he stood back, crossing his arms over his huge chest.
“Buffy!” Xander’s voice turned her head to where he was wrestling with the other vampire, a middle-aged man who was really too portly to fight, but who seemed to be doing a good job of roughing up her friend.
Buffy jumped to her feet just as the vampire got his arm around Xander’s neck, holding him in a tight grip, then throwing him to the floor, where the young man’s head hit a rock with a sickening crack. Anger flooded Buffy’s veins, drawing some strength from somewhere. She launched herself at the middle-aged vamp, her foot flying up to meet his chest with a thud. As he fell, she reached behind her and pulled out a stake, slamming it into his chest before he even had a chance to hit the ground properly.
An explosion of dust and the high-pitched scream of his last cry blotted out the sound of the young vamp behind her. A pair of vicelike hands gripped her shoulders and flung her across the cemetery grass. Buffy felt a dark exhaustion sink into her peripheral vision as she stumbled in her attempts to get to her feet. All she could see was the snarling figure lumbering towards her. Pushing against the damp grass, she found that she was unable to get to her feet; it was as though her legs wouldn’t work. She scrambled around in the tufts of unkempt grass for the stake, her hand fumbling blindly in the dark night.
He was so close she could smell the fetid breath coming from his lips. His fangs glinted in the moonlight as he put a foot on her chest, pushing her back down, like a hunter taking pride in his prey.
“All those things I was told about the Slayer,” he said gleefully, pressing his boot on her chest as she struggled to move. “And she’s nothing more than a little girl.” A sigh escaped his dead lips and he looked almost remorseful, “Now I’m the one to drink Slayer blood. I guess I should be honoured or something.”
As Buffy opened her mouth to speak, the vampire suddenly straightened, his body jerked upward in a movement that owed more to surprise than anything else. Dismay glowed keenly in his eyes and his mouth hung open in a suspended moment before he exploded, raining down grey dust all over Buffy.
Closing her eyes against the ash, Buffy grinned. “Thanks Xander, I thought I was gone for sure then.” She sat up with some effort and brushed at the dust on her clothes.
“I guess you mean the Xander who’s lying out cold over there?” A female voice made the blonde Slayer’s head snap up on her neck. She trailed her gaze upwards to see Faith standing over her, one hand held out to help her up.
Ignoring it, Buffy got to her feet and rushed over to where Xander lay. Checking him carefully, she realised that, apart from a small wound on the back of his head and what was surely going to be a huge bruise, he was just out for the count. Relief glowed through her body as she laid him carefully back down, then turned to where Faith still stood. The dark Slayer was trying to look as though she didn’t care that Buffy had just ignored her completely. In fact, Faith was trying to look as though she didn’t care about much.
“Go away Faith.” Buffy’s tone was hard and brittle.
A snort of laughter escaped the other girl’s lips, winding its way in a crooked smile across her lips. “That’s the thanks I get for saving you? Way to go with manners B.” Faith shoved her stake into her pants and folded her arms. “What’s up with you anyway? Time was you could have taken that vamp. Losing your Slayer touch?”
Buffy got to her feet, squaring off against the other girl. Anger flared briefly in her eyes, dampened only by the lethargy that was claiming all her concentration right now. She brushed at some remains of dust on her legs and shook her head. “I could have handled it.”
“Sure.” Faith nodded, looking Buffy up and down in a way that made the blonde distinctly uncomfortable. “I noticed.”
“Look, just go away Faith. You aren’t wanted here.” Buffy went to move past the dark Slayer to gather a stray stake, but the girl caught her arm and stopped her. They stood for a minute, close together, Faith’s hand holding Buffy firmly. For a second, Buffy greeted the grasp that was the only thing preventing her from swaying off her feet. She could feel Faith’s nearness and it confused her. Emotions swept through her body before she could stop them, like she always had, a strong feeling of powerlessness pervaded her senses just like it always did when Faith was around. Her breathing quickened slightly, matching the mists of air coming from Faith.
“Gotta disagree with you B. I was asked to patrol.”
“You were…asked?” Incredulity moved Buffy’s voice up a notch. Her eyes met briefly with Faith’s, drowning in their brown depth, before she tore her gaze away, shaking her head. She pulled her arm from Faith’s grasp with some effort and bent down to retrieve her stake from the grass, turning her back on the other Slayer.
“Giles thought you might need some help. He said you were off your game.” Faith stared down at Buffy’s back, wishing she could help her. She stretched out her arms to help Buffy up, then decided against it, clamping them back against her sides.
“I’m not!” Buffy said harshly. She felt a deep sense of betrayal, tainted with some gratitude. Her resentment of Faith overrode all of that though, glistening in her eyes. “I’m fine.” Her words came in little staccato outbursts, her breathing heavy and laced with bitterness. “We don’t need you Faith, we never have. Go away and don’t come back.” She rose to her feet as dizziness spun her head, making her stumble.
In an instant, Faith’s hands were on her arms, steadying her. Buffy slapped them away, a look of horror on her face. The dark Slayer took a step backwards, the hurt plain on her face. It only served to fuel Buffy’s anger, she moved towards Faith, pushing at her chest with one hand.
“You might be able to fool Willow and Tara,” she hissed, “but you’ll never take me in again.”
“B, I don’t wanna…” Faith began, but was shoved back by another hand on her chest.
“I don’t care what you want anymore Faith. It isn’t important.” Buffy said, taking a step nearer the dark Slayer, incensed by Faith’s non-reaction. She pushed at Faith again, watching as the other girl did nothing.
“Come on Faith,” she urged hurtfully, “You think you can do my job? Think you can do what I do? I know you better than that. You’ll never be able to change, I don’t know what gave you the impression you could.”
“Buffy,” Faith began, using the blonde Slayer’s full name, it sounding odd on her lips. “Buffy, listen to me…”
“No!” Buffy drew back her fist and thrust it forward, punching Faith in the face. The dark girl reeled, although Buffy’s strength was no match for her own. As she stood up erect, a pain filled her eyes that was not related to the punch. Buffy hit her again. This time Faith blocked the blow, her forearm taking most of the reduced force. Again Buffy tried to hit her, but Faith was too fast, blocking and warding off the fists that came towards her.
“I’m not gonna fight you B.” Faith said evenly, her body crouched into a defensive position, as much as Buffy’s was tensed in an offensive. “We are not gonna do this again.” Her voice was tightened into a tone Buffy had never heard before. Where was the Faith she knew? Where was the impassioned machine that cared about nothing? The blonde Slayer felt a weakness begin in her legs, trembling its way up her spine until it took her head. Shaking it away for a second, she looked across at the dark Slayer in front of her, confusion darkening her eyes.
“We’re always going to do this,” Buffy growled, “It’s your legacy Faith. You started it.” Almost before she had finished speaking, she spun around and lashed out with her leg, catching Faith full in the ribs. The dark girl went down for a second before leaping to her feet. Still she didn’t fight back. Buffy kicked at her again, sending Faith to the ground with a grunt as her back hit the floor.
Leaping onto her, Buffy straddled the girl’s chest and knelt on her shoulders. She was trembling with exhaustion, but it didn’t stop her leaning down to look into Faith’s eyes with anger flashing her own bright in the moonlight. Faith’s mouth worked its way into a hard line, whether one of anger or distress, Buffy couldn’t tell. Both women were breathing heavily, emotion clouding their locked gazes.
“Why won’t you fight me?” Buffy whispered. “Why won’t you fight back?”
“I don’t want to hurt you B.” Faith said softly. “Not any more. Not again.” Her eyes closed briefly and she bit at her bottom lip, her body twitching under the blonde Slayer’s.
“I could kill you. Right now.” Buffy said distractedly, trying to ignore the darkness of fatigue pulling at her mind.
“Not tonight.” Faith sat up easily, pushing Buffy’s limp body off her own. Getting to her feet, she looked down at the other girl, who sat mystified, almost in a world of her own. When Buffy finally looked up, Faith was gone. She pulled up her knees, hugging them to her and rocking back and forth as silent tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
From behind the gravestones that stood up like silvery teeth from the ground, a hooded figure moved silently across the cemetery. It moved until it was close enough to hear Buffy’s ragged breathing, although she, in her distress, heard nothing.
A hand moved up to tug at the hood, fingers delicately smoothing down the material. Then the hand stretched out, pointing towards the Slayer. A silent incantation crept from the dark recesses of the hood, forming a glimmering mist around the figure. For a few minutes, the mist reached out to where Buffy was crumpled in a heap, caressing her back in a soothing motion, although she felt nothing. Then the mist returned its way back to the figure, who nodded, breathing in the final gasps of the Slayer’s power.
Chapter 6
Tara handed a cup of steaming herbal tea to Faith, who sat on the edge of her bed. Only a couple of minutes after Tara had returned home, the Slayer had turned up at her door looking so disconsolate that Tara had quickly ushered her inside to the warmth of her cosy room. Luckily, she kept a homemade recipe of herbal tea for precisely these kinds of situations; it had proved a winner with Willow on those occasions when her girlfriend had been feeling particularly low.
Reaching down onto the bed, Tara took Faith’s denim jacket in her hands and put it carefully onto the back of her desk chair. Turning, she saw Faith sip at the tea and pull a face, looking up at the blonde girl with a grimace.
“What is this stuff?”
Tara grinned, “Just a little concoction I keep handy. It’s revitalising and good for you.”
Faith shrugged, “No wonder I don’t like it then.” She saw the brief expression that flitted across Tara’s face and added hastily, “But thanks anyway. I’m sorry for coming here so late.” She put the mug of tea onto the bedside table and sat back, casting her gaze around the room. It fell onto a picture of Willow and Tara together, given pride of place on Tara’s desk. Around it were piled stacks of books, an odd mixture of academic and magickal texts. Seeing the picture of the two of them struck a chord in Faith’s heart, a feeling of deep regret and disappointment in herself. She recalled the look of pure hatred in Buffy’s eyes as she had tried to hurt her. If only she knew, she thought, her words hurt me more than her fists ever could.
Shaking her head, Faith propped herself up on her elbows, leaning back onto a bed that didn’t creak or wobble, she thought enviously. Her gaze moved to rest on Tara, who moved to sit beside her on the bed. The blonde girl pulled her legs up underneath her to sit cross-legged at the edge of the bed, her smile warming Faith more than the tea had done.
“You can come by here anytime.” Tara said, her voice low and even. “It’s not a problem. So how was patrol?” She wished she could take back her words when she saw the dejected expression colouring Faith’s eyes. The dark Slayer sighed and shook her head.
“I met up with Buffy. She kinda got physical with me,” she glanced up at Tara, “In a Slayer way.”
“Oh.” Tara’s mouth pressed a line of sympathy across at Faith. Shifting her position slightly, she reached down by the side of the bed and picked up the small bundle of fur that was stretched out on the floor. Miss Kitty Fantastico mewed as Tara settled her into her lap, running a hand from the top of the kitten’s head down to her rump. The cat purred loudly as her mistress fondled her. “You like cats?” Tara decided to change the subject in order to distract Faith from what was putting the expression of sadness on her face.
Casting a glance towards the feline snuggling its way into Tara’s velvet skirt, Faith frowned. “Never given ‘em much thought. Does it bite?”
Tara giggled. “It’s a she, and no she doesn’t bite.” She scratched behind Miss Kitty’s ears as the kitten mewed plaintively again. “But she requires a lot of snuggling, don’t you Miss Kitty?” she looked fondly down at her pet.
Faith sighed and turned on the bed, resting her head on one hand as she watched Tara. There was something about the blonde girl that made her feel so at ease, like they had been friends for years. There was an essence of calm about her that affected Faith too. She couldn’t remember ever wanting to relax like this, when she was in Tara’s company. Somehow, being with Tara made her feel almost normal; something she hadn’t realised was so addictive. It was good, she told herself. Unusual, but good, she added with a wry smile.
“I always wanted a puppy when I was little,” she said softly, as Tara’s blue gaze swung around to meet her own. “But my mom and her waster of a boyfriend never let me….I mean….they weren’t much into pets.” She laughed mirthlessly, “They weren’t much into anything apart from getting loaded and fighting. Mainly with each other but at weekends they’d gang up on me.” She dragged her gaze away from Tara’s and looked down at the soft comforter on the bed, her free hand picking at bits of it distractedly.
“Poor Faith.” Tara said gently.
“Hey, you deal.” Faith waved her hand dismissively.
“Do you?” Tara asked her, looking down at Miss Kitty again. Her hand moved to tickle underneath the kitten’s chin, extracting purrs of delight from the feline.
“Had to.” Faith said shortly. She had never spoken to anyone about her youth, mainly because she didn’t want anyone to know about it. It was all so long ago and she’d moved away from that. She’d run away from home and swore never to go back. Not long after that her Watcher had found her and the whole Slayer thing had started. “Can’t keep letting the past catch up with you can you?”
Tara’s teeth came out to grasp her bottom lip briefly before she smiled slowly. “I would say that you’ve stopped running for a while.”
Faith concentrated on the comforter again, her fingers picking at the threads. “Yeah, for all the good that’s done me. I tried really hard with B you know. She just don’t wanna know.” A sigh escaped her, one that told Tara more about Faith’s feelings than her words were doing, “I wish I could make her see that I’m different now. I know more about stuff.” Her voice caught in her throat for a second, stopping her from venturing further into dangerous territory.
“You know, when I first met Willow I didn’t think she’d be able to love me either. It was really difficult to prove myself to myself first; to convince myself that I was worth loving.” Tara didn’t look at Faith; not wanting to see the shocked expression that she knew was widening the Slayer’s eyes as they were transfixed on her. “But wanting Willow so badly was the thing that kept me going. I guess,” she let her gaze drift back to memories of events that seemed so long ago, “I needed her. And I wouldn’t be without her love for anything in the world.” She smiled and petted Miss Kitty again.
Faith sat bolt upright on the bed, the movement making Miss Kitty’s head emerge from Tara’s lap with a startled swiftness. The cat’s emerald eyes looked carefully at Faith, blinking slowly at her.
“Who said anything about love?” Faith almost fell over her words. She got to her feet and paced the room, walking first over to the window and picking up Tara’s candles one by one, setting them down with fingers that she realised, to her shame, were trembling. She moved over to the desk and began flicking through the books lying there. “I never said love, I never said that word,” she blurted hastily, her voice belying the emotion flooding her body. Realisation sent a weakness down her spine, turning a suspicion into a reality.
“Faith,” Tara said her name gently, her voice almost a caress to the dark Slayer’s roughened spirit. Turning, Faith saw Tara smiling at her and couldn’t help but give in. “I know you love her. I knew when we were in England. I could see it then and I still see it now.” Tara said bluntly. “It’s just going to take Buffy a bit longer. Don’t give in though, if you really love her, don’t give up. Just keep telling yourself how you feel, even if it sounds really crazy.”
“I…” Faith began, then stopped as her fears clenched her tongue tight against the roof of her mouth. Looking again to Tara for support, she grinned foolishly at the blonde girl, who smiled back beatifically. Nodding, Faith folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I love her,” she said finally.
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Xander gingerly touched the lump on the back of his head and winced in pain. Giles placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him and nodded towards it. “Hot, strong and sweet,” he said. “Drink it.”
“Nice thought G-man, but don’t you think medical attention would be more appropriate?” Xander grumbled, feeling a headache starting. He leant back onto Giles’ sofa as Anya perched on the arm beside him, rubbing his shoulder affectionately.
“Drink it.” Giles voice ordered, as he waded through the books that were piled on his floor, open at pages of demonic diagrams and pictures. “It’s just a knock to the head. God knows I’m used to it, it’s about time you had your turn,” he added mirthlessly. He watched as Xander sipped the tea obediently and grimaced.
“That’s the last time you go on patrol.” Anya stated firmly, her fingers brushing some hair from Xander’s forehead. “I don’t want your head getting all lumpy and ugly.”
“I quite agree.” Giles didn’t look up as he heaved a huge tome onto his lap. “We simply cannot run the risk of either you or Buffy being hurt again.” He tutted under his breath as he flicked through several pages.
Xander heaved himself up into a sitting position and pursed his lips together thoughtfully, his mind wandering back over what he could remember of the night. When he had come to, Buffy had been sitting leaning against a headstone, her eyes empty and lifeless. For a second he had been gripped by the fear that she was dead….or worse. But she had simply gotten to her feet and told him that she was going home. He had insisted, despite his aching head, that he walk her, but she had brushed off his offer and practically stumbled away from him, weaving a sorry path away from him into the night.
His eyes narrowed as he remembered how she had looked. It was as though she had been….well….crying. Looking across at Giles now, he took a short breath. “Giles, I’m worried about Buffy.”
“That makes two of us.” Giles said, glancing his way, then turning back to the book again.
“No, I mean, she looked beat tonight. I’ve never seen her so tired.” Xander continued, sipping at the tea again even though the taste of it was dreadful. “And those vamps could easily have gotten the better of us. There was none of that old Slayer magic at work.” He sighed, suddenly feeling tired himself, “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“I’m looking….” Giles said, his eyes scanning the book in front of him. He turned over the page and then slapped his hand onto the book, making both Xander and Anya jump. “Of course!” he exclaimed, “I am such an idiot!”
“Which makes us..?” Xander looked from his girlfriend to Giles, then back to Anya again, his face etched into confusion.
“No, it’s here.” Giles said, finally looking across at the two young people opposite him. He pointed to the page he was scanning, his finger pressing urgently onto the paper. “This is an ancient Babylonian text, outlawed by the Council many years ago. It contains spells and enchantments that were considered dangerous, even in those days. The Council banned it, took all the copies they could find and burned them.”
“Yeah?” Xander shook his head, “So how come you got one?”
A faint flush crept across Giles’ face and he removed his glasses. “There’s quite a black market for texts such as these.” His eyes flicked back to the book again, “I have contacts.”
“Go G-man with your underground wheeling and a dealing.” Xander commented dryly. “So what’s the deal?”
Getting to his feet, Giles placed the book on the coffee table that was already piled high with magickal texts. He replaced his glasses and looked carefully at Xander, observing the young man’s obvious pain and exhaustion. Folding his arms across his chest, Giles shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning,” he said flatly. “Go home, rest, then come back here bright and early with Willow. I’ll explain everything then.”
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Chapter 7
Willow scooted closer to Tara on the sofa in Giles’ apartment. The blonde witch grinned as the redhead took her hand and leant against her shoulder. Xander and Anya were in the kitchen with Giles, arguing about what to drink. Xander’s head was still aching a little, although he had dramatised it up for Giles’ benefit, blaming the tea that the Watcher had made him drink the previous night. Anya was simply angry because, she claimed, Giles ‘evil tea’ had prevented Xander from being a demon in bed.
As their voices drifted over to the two witches, Willow stroked Tara’s hand softly, trailing her fingers down from wrist to fingertip, then back again.
“I missed you last night,” she said in a plaintive ‘little girl’ voice. “Missed my warm snuggles.”
Tara smiled indulgently, “Get a hot water bottle.” Her tone was teasing, which thrilled Willow. When Tara spoke to her like that, the blonde’s voice would drop a level, growing sensuous and intensely wonderful. Willow always tried to think of as many situations in which she could get Tara to talk to her like that. Usually it worked, she congratulated herself gleefully.
“I thought, you know, after the other night, you might be avoiding me and my bed.” Her eyes sought her lover’s, not a little worried.
Tara reached up and brushed her fingers down Willow’s cheek, painting a flush there with a glance from her clear blue eyes. “No,” she whispered, “How could I ever avoid you? You’re such a….” she searched for the right word, “An evil wench.” They both tittered as Tara planted a kiss on Willow’s cheek, “You know I could never refuse you anything. Although I did have a visitor last night.”
Willow sat back, her eyes widening, their green curious. She flicked her hair back from her face and searched Tara’s face. “Oh? A visitor?”
“Uh huh, Faith came over after patrol.” Before Willow could open her mouth to say something that Tara didn’t want to hear, she pressed her fingers onto the redhead’s rosy lips. “She saw Buffy and needed to talk.”
“Oh,” Willow sighed, whether one of relief or concern, Tara couldn’t tell. The redheaded witch leaned in closer to Tara and laid her head on her shoulder briefly. “Poor Faith.” She sat up with a bewildered expression on her face. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say. Ew. Poor Faith?” A laugh tinkled its way from her mouth, “I hope she and Buffy work things out. My Slayer buddy needs another Slayer buddy.” She squeezed Tara’s hand warmly, “Just like I need a witch buddy.”
Tara smiled at her, wondering if Willow had any idea of Faith’s feelings for Buffy. Willow was sometimes so innocent and yet, she flushed at the memories of the other night, sometimes she quite clearly wasn’t.
“….and I really don’t want to hear any more of your disturbing sexual innuendo, Anya.” Giles bustled in with a tray holding a teapot and some cups. He placed it on the small table in front of the sofa and sat in his chair, leaning forward to pour milk and tea into each cup in turn.
“Who was talking innuendo?” Anya dropped onto the arm of the sofa as Xander sat down in the other armchair. He pulled a face at Willow and Tara that was clearly apologetic, holding his hands up in the air as if to say ‘what can you do?’. “I was only saying that every time Xander is injured in the line of duty, that’s another night we can’t have – “
“Yes, thank you Anya.” Giles cut in, his face set in an expression of distaste and uncomfortable acknowledgement. “Your point is well and truly made.” He held a cup of tea to his lips and sipped at it quickly, wanting to get on with the meeting as soon as possible. “Now, I’ve spoken to Buffy’s mother this morning and it seems that our Slayer is well and truly out of commission. Buffy is in bed, resting, where it seems that is the safest place for her. Faith will have to patrol for her instead.” He nodded across at Willow and Tara, “You did say she’d be here?”
“Well we called.” Willow said, looking at Tara who smiled in agreement.
“She was out late last night Mr Giles.” Tara added.
“I see her lack of attention to punctuality hasn’t changed then,” Giles muttered, replacing his cup on the table in front of him. “Still, when she arrives I’ll brief her. In the meantime, I think I’ve found the solution to our problem.” He picked up the book that was lying open at his feet, holding it on his lap. “This enchantment that Buffy seems to be under comes from an ancient incantation to steal power…essence, if you will. Apparently, it fell out of use when the cult of Algar disbanded in the Dark Ages.”
Willow leant forward, her neck craning to try and see the book Giles held. “The cult of Algar? What’s that?”
“Algar is a demon who feeds off the strength of others.” Giles leant back in his chair, pulling off his glasses. “His cult were formed to bring forward only the most powerful warriors for sacrifice. It seems that he simply,” he looked down at the page open in front of him, “sucked the life out of them. By mystical forces only he had access to,” he added.
“So he’s sucking the life out of Buffy?” Xander asked, his brow furrowed over a face filled with disgust. “That sucks.” He shrugged off the looks the others gave him and shook his head. “Well it does.”
“I guess when he came to Sunnydale he looked for the strongest warrior?” Willow asked, her mind following the same route as Giles’.
“Quite.” The Watcher nodded, “Who, in this day and age, is the Slayer.” He replaced his glasses and sighed. “There is an incantation we can perform although it would take all three of us,” he looked across to Willow and Tara, “to sum up the necessary power.”
“No problem.” Willow clutched at Tara’s hand, lying between them on the sofa. “We got charms a plenty with the three of us together.”
“So what does the incantation do, Mr Giles?” Tara asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, just as the door opened and Faith rushed in. She looked like she had slept in her clothes, as they were wrinkled and clung to her toned body. Her hair was rumpled and mussed up, like she had not long since clambered out of bed. She stood nervously by the sofa, thankful that there were at least two faces pleased to see her.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly, “I ran all the way here.”
Xander held onto Anya’s hand tightly, not a little intimidated by her presence. Giles, however, almost smiled at her. He motioned towards the sofa. “Do sit down Faith,” his voice held a kindly note that she acknowledged gratefully, dropping her leather clad legs onto the sofa beside Tara. “I’ve been hearing good things about you,” he told her, “It seems you caused quite a stir in the Watcher’s Council.”
Faith shrugged, “Gotta be a good thing right? Those guys need to loosen up a little.” A crooked smile shaped her mouth for a second as Giles turned his attention back to the book. “So what have I missed?” she asked him.
“We can cure Buffy, with your help,” he said, his demeanour becoming serious once more. “The demon Algar has, it seems, been sucking the Slayer strength out of Buffy, rendering her quite defenceless against vampires and the like.”
“I kinda noticed that last night.” Faith said grimly, her thoughts replaying the images of Buffy’s weakness in full detail.
“Hold it, you were there last night?” Xander said, his voice incredulous.
“Sure,” she turned to face him, noticing how he almost shrank back from her, even though she had only moved her head. “Right after you took a fall and B got pinned by a vamp. It was no big, really.” She looked down at her hands, placed firmly on her legs to stop them from shaking. When Willow and Tara had called her this morning, she had tried to get out of coming here. It was all too much like ripping the scabs off old wounds, meeting the whole Scooby Gang again. Especially Xander, to whom she had been nothing but harsh and cruel. It was only after several minutes of hardcore persuasion that Tara had managed to get her to agree to turn up.
“Huh,” Xander bit at his lip thoughtfully. “So you helped out?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Guess I did.” Faith said, turning her eyes away from him so that she wouldn’t have to see the look in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. And he was right not to. She was hardly able to believe in herself, so why should she expect others to?
“And now you have an opportunity to do it again.” Giles caught their attention again, all gazes fixing on him as he rubbed at his forehead. “This incantation can only work with the victim close to the demon, Algar. Buffy must be there in order to regain her strength.”
“But isn’t that kind of dangerous for her?” Willow’s voice was timid; she knew better than to interrupt Giles in full flow.
The Watcher pursed his lips irritably, “I was just coming to that. In order to defeat the demon, Buffy must gather the combined strength of the strongest warriors, which translates into someone who is at least as strong as she is.”
“Me.” Faith said bluntly, drawing five pairs of eyes onto her all at once. She shifted in her seat and looked down at her legs.
“Exactly.” Giles nodded. “Only another Slayer can be as strong as Buffy.” A sigh escaped his lips, “What this entails is really quite dangerous. No one has ever done it before, and I’m really not happy about trying it…”
“If it helps Buffy, then I’ll do it.” Faith said, her voice clear and strong.
“What we need to do is firstly combine the Slayer strength in one body, that is, transpose Faith into Buffy.”
“Can you do that?” Xander asked, shaking his head, “Isn’t that kind of….dangerous?”
“There is a certain risk involved, yes,” Giles nodded, “But it’s the only way to get Buffy close enough to Algar in order for her to get her own strength back. Once she defeats him, she can take back what is hers.” He looked up at Faith, “In essence, Faith, you will have to possess Buffy’s body. You will still retain consciousness; only your body won’t be yours. We’ll be using something similar to the Draconian katra.” Giles paused slightly, uncertainty tainting his tone and demeanour. He coughed politely and found that, to his chagrin, he couldn’t look Faith in the eye. “I believe you’ve had some experience with that.”
There was a short silence as the entire group remembered when Faith had stolen Buffy’s body, wreaking havoc on the whole Scooby Gang. It wasn’t a pleasant memory for any of them, least of all Faith, who leaned forward, her hair hanging over her face. She chilled with embarrassment as scenes from that time played in her mind; the way she had taken Buffy’s body, and her boyfriend, before realising when she came face to face with her own visage, how much self loathing and hatred she could feel for herself.
Slowly she raised her head, a light shining in her eyes that none of them had seen before. Looking round the group, meeting each one firmly and holding them in her gaze for a moment, she nodded. “I’ll do it.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I won’t do it.” Buffy said, as forcefully as she could manage, sitting up weakly in her bed. She looked Giles in the eye, seeing only his paternal concern and honesty. But she felt resentment that he would come to her with this. He of all people should at least understand. She shook her head. “No way Giles, not in this world.”
Giles shifted his position on the end of her bed and clasped his hands together in his lap. It had taken him several hours to come to Buffy with this, even after Faith had gone over and over the incantation with him. Forcing the two of them together like this had worried even his logical mind, but it was a last resort, one that offered few other options.
“Buffy, this really is the only way we’re going to get your strength back,” he said quietly, looking carefully at her pale face and red eyes. She had been crying, he suspected. Over what, he could take a guess at. “There really is no other way, and we need you up to full strength. Otherwise….” He trailed off, not wanting to consider failure.
“Otherwise? There’s an otherwise?” Buffy’s voice was high-pitched and tense. She ran a hand through her lank hair, realising that he was right but not wanting to admit it.
“The Slayer is who you are,” Giles leant forward, his soft voice calming her slightly, “You cannot separate human from Slayer, it’s inside you all the time. To lose your Slayer’s power is to lose your own, you would become less of a person. In eventuality,” he paused, gathering his words carefully before speaking, “the sacrifice would be you.”
“No,” Buffy croaked, her eyes filling with tears that she quickly brushed away impatiently, “I’ll die?”
Giles pressed his lips together and, turning his gaze away from her, nodded shortly.
Buffy gulped at the tears that were now flowing freely down her cheeks, sniffing back the emotion that clogged her throat. “I don’t want her to Giles, I don’t want her inside me,” she sobbed.
“I can categorically assure you that this time, we are in control of the situation. It’s not easy for her either,” he offered by means of comfort, “She is giving herself over to you totally Buffy. It’s really quite noble of her.”
“Faith? Noble?” Buffy let out a mirthless snort of laughter. “This isn’t the Middle Ages Giles, people don’t do noble things any more. I’m not a damsel in distress and she’s not my knight in shining armour, come to save me.” Her voice was brittle with a revenge she had never been able to find.
Giles removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a cloth he pulled from his jacket pocket. For all her bluster, he sometimes had to remember that Buffy was still just a girl. He wished that there was some other way to do this, but for all his knowledge and research, the cure still came back to human basics of sacrifice.
“Is there nothing else? I mean, some other spell you’ve missed?” Buffy was frantic in her search for answers.
He shook his head, “I’m sorry Buffy, but no, there isn’t.” Replacing his glasses he turned to look at her tear stained face and wild eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she gasped, the tears starting afresh as she looked at his earnest face. A face she had come to love and respect without condition.
“Then have faith Buffy, have faith in me.”
Chapter 8
As night fell, the Scooby Gang gathered at the edges of the cemetery where Buffy had met with Faith the previous night. The air carried a chill that promised winter, so that their breaths were misted clouds emerging in the dark that blanketed their every move. Buffy had to be helped to walk, although she insisted that it be Xander to support her, hardly looking at Faith when she offered. The dark haired girl followed the Scooby Gang almost meekly, accepting her fate, wishing it were someone else’s.
In the silence of the cemetery, the group went over their plan one final time. Faith would inhabit Buffy’s body using the conjured katra that Willow and Tara had made; then Giles, Willow and Tara would call the demon with magick. After that, it would be up to Faith to fight him until the incantation to help destroy him was complete.
“Sounds simple don’t it?” Faith grinned as she watched Tara laying out the tools for their spell on top of a flat headstone. The dark Slayer had stayed close to the blonde witch, as though for protection or moral support. Whilst Willow was just as kind, it was Tara that Faith clung to emotionally. She received a smile of reassurance from the girl.
“You’ll be great Faith, just think of it as a…uh….a normal slay.” Tara said in a low voice, her eyes flicking to the group beyond them, organising themselves with weapons. Buffy was lying close by, huddled in a blanket. Her eyes closed, she looked like she was asleep; it was only her occasional glance up at Giles that indicated she was alive at all. She was shivering, Faith had noticed. And despite their efforts to make her feel better, Buffy was looking more and more ill every second.
Faith desperately wanted to go over and say something, anything. But she knew in her heart that she just lacked the courage. She was afraid of being rejected by Buffy yet again. The need to win Buffy over, even if it was just for a second, drove her on, it was the reason she was here tonight. If, just for one minute, she could do something that Buffy might just approve of, all this would be worth it.
She looked back at Tara, who was organising her candles and herbs with precision. “I want to make her proud of me,” she said gently, her eyes catching the moonlight and shining brightly.
“I know.” Tara smiled, reaching out and holding the Slayer’s hand for a brief moment, before dropping it and going back to her arranging. “You don’t need to be afraid,” she said, her voice drifting over her shoulder to where Faith stood, shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with the buttons on her jacket.
“Easy for you to say.” Faith muttered.
“That’s why I say it,” Tara turned, flashing the girl a quick, brilliant smile, “because I know you won’t. You know you can do this, otherwise you wouldn’t have offered.”
“Hell yeah, I can kick demon ass,” Faith grinned suddenly, the smile fading almost instantly away, “the question is, can I kick ass in Buffy’s body?”
“You’ve done it before.” Tara replied.
“Which is the next thing. Last time it was all so wrong, so what makes it right now?” Faith’s tone raised a notch, making Tara turn, a light breeze catching her hair and blowing it across her face.
Pushing it back, she drew her coat around her in the chilly air. “Faith, we need you. Buffy needs you. It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” Faith grunted, “It’s me I can’t rely on.”
“Well I can.” Tara looked up as Willow and Giles walked towards her. “Okay?”
Shaking her head at the witch’s tenacity, Faith made her way over to where Buffy lay on the damp grass, barely awake. In her hand, she felt the smooth surface of the katra that Giles had given her. It glowed a bright green through her fingers, almost vibrating its energy into her.
Kneeling down, she touched Buffy on the shoulder, her heart thudding furiously as the blonde Slayer opened her eyes. “Hey, you ready?” Faith said softly. Buffy nodded wordlessly, hardly able to move her hand to grasp Faith’s brown strong one. “It’s gonna be okay,” Faith leant in closer and whispered, seeing surprise colour Buffy’s face as she heard the tone of the dark Slayer’s voice. “I promise, it’s gonna be okay,” she repeated and grasped Buffy’s hand firmly in her own.
For a split second neither girl moved, hardly blinked. Then the katra took hold, with a force that shook its way through both of their bodies, trembling a wide-eyed surprise from Faith through to Buffy. Their eyes met in a brief moment of connection, then Faith fell back onto the grass, twitched once, and then lay still.
Blinking, Buffy breathed in deeply, tasting the night air as though for the first time. Looking around her, she saw the concerned faces of Willow, Tara, Giles, Xander and Anya at a distance. Almost afraid to move, she lifted her hand slowly, feeling energy suddenly surge through her body. She had such strength! Getting to her feet, she flung the blanket off her, turning to lay it over the inert body of Faith. Casting a glance down at the dark haired girl, she mouthed something that the onlookers couldn’t quite catch. Turning, Buffy marched over to where Giles and the two witches stood.
“Buffy?” Willow said tentatively.
“Faith?” Tara asked in the same tone.
“Uh…yeah, kinda.” Buffy answered, “I mean, both, sort of..” she trailed off, looking to Giles for support, frowning in confusion as both consciousnesses worked inside her body.
He moved forward to take her arm. “Faith, you need to try and disconnect yourself from Buffy, she’s still very weak and can’t help you with this. She’s there underneath your mind, but you are the stronger force inside her. You need to focus and concentrate.”
“I…uh….sure…” Faith held a hand to her head for a second and scowled.
“That was Buffy,” Anya stated firmly, “I’d know that look anywhere.”
“Hmm, no, I thought that was more Faith,” Xander turned to her, frowning, “See how her eyebrows go in really sharply?” He was about to say more, but was silenced by another scowl from the Slayer, whoever she was.
“Get that demon here now.” The Slayer prompted, “I’m ready, but I don’t know how long I can keep being…..you know, myself.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists by her sides.
Giles turned to Willow and Tara, “We need to keep a clear head doing this,” he said in a low urgent tone, “No matter what happens, we must continue the incantation.”
Sharing a glance, Willow and Tara remembered another time, not so long ago, when the same instruction had been given. Neither of them wanted a repeat performance, although they felt safe in Giles’ capable hands. Nodding at Willow, Tara understood that this was different, they were different now. Not trusting each other or having faith in their abilities was something that never even crossed their minds. Not now.
The three figures joined hands over the headstone where Tara had lit candles at the points of a hastily drawn pentacle. Giles squinted down at the book in front of him. “Now this should be fairly easy, drawing the demon to us,” he said, “It’s a matter of -“
“Uh, Giles….” Xander’s voice turned the Watcher’s head irritably. “I don’t think you’re gonna need to do that whole demon magnet thing….” As Giles’ gaze followed Xander’s pointing finger, he saw a figure emerge from the chilled darkness, its hooded black outline clear and sharp in the moonlight that streamed down over them.
The figure seemed to be floating across the top of the grass, so smooth and fluid was its movement. The hood seemed filled with darkness, a black that seeped out from the recesses of the material. The figure moved until it was a few yards away from the group, then stopped. Waiting.
Xander pulled Anya back from the figure, taking refuge with Willow and Tara as the silence roared around them. Buffy’s body took a step forward, Faith’s eyes wide and expectant in her head.
“Slayer.” The figure spoke, although no one heard its voice, the sound was all around them and in them at the same time.
“You!” Faith could hardly believe the tension that was mounting in her chest, threatening to crush her spirit. “I dreamt about you. Have to tell you,” she attempted a vague route around humour, “you kept me awake at night for the last two days. And not in a good way.” She took another step forward, frowning as she tried to keep her thoughts together. In her head, Faith could hear Buffy’s voice talking to her, telling her what to do, how to handle this. Try as she might, the sound of Buffy’s voice in her head was almost intoxicating. With every breath she took, she felt the other Slayer more firmly fixed in her mind, pervading her senses, becoming a part of her.
“I have come for you Slayer.” The voice sounded again. From the corner of her eye, The Slayer could see Giles, Willow and Tara huddled around the gravestone, chanting softly, slowly, their hands joining to create a white light that was rising from inside the circle they formed.
“Well here I am,” The Slayer crouched as the figure drew nearer, assuming a fighting position. Adrenalin burst through the Slayer’s veins as she darted forward, landing a well-placed kick in the shadow’s midriff. Staggering back as though winded, the figure stooped, and then straightened up again.
“You cannot defeat me Slayer. You know who I am? I take what is most precious to you, your strength. I claim it for my own.”
“Not without a fight, Algar.” The Slayer growled through gritted teeth, launching herself forward again, a punch, a kick, a roundhouse, then back to crouching again. The figure was surprised by the strength that the Slayer still had, even after he had taken so much from her. Again the lithe figure launched herself into the fray, kicking, punching, crushing, smashing, reaching for any part of the demon that she could make contact with.
Falling back onto a headstone, Algar noticed the dark form lying some distance away. Recognition surged into his being as he remembered the other Slayer. His sightless gaze returned to Buffy’s form and he held up his hand. “You join forces with the Slayer to defeat me?” His voice was almost impressed. “Why Slayer, don’t you know I’ll take you both?” Standing up, he reached up to push back the hood of the cloak, revealing a head of blonde hair, atop a face that made Faith’s mind freeze.
The demon was wearing Buffy’s own face.
“Come on Faith,” a familiar voice emerged from what Faith knew to be a demon, though she couldn’t take her eyes from the strong features and finely boned visage that she had carried with her for so long. Her eyes widened as the demon circled her slowly, “you don’t want to do this. You couldn’t hurt me could you? Not again?”
Faith’s mouth dropped open as she kept telling herself that this was not Buffy. It was a demon. It was bad. Fight it, she kept telling herself, fight it. Soon another voice in her head joined her own. Buffy’s. She moved backwards, she and the demon following each other’s move.
“Give it up Faith,” Algar even had the same intonation as Buffy, the same tone, the same voice that Faith had craved. “Let’s not do this. Let’s be together. You know it’s right.”
“No.” Faith forced out between gritted teeth, unable to lunge forward and place a fist into that face, but equally unable to give herself to what she knew to be a vision. “It’s not you Buffy. I know it’s not you.”
“Isn’t it?” The creature with Buffy’s face smiled at her. Buffy’s smile. “How do you know Faith….remember I know what Buffy knows. I feel what she feels. I am her.” Algar stopped moving and faced Faith, looking at the Slayer with clear blue eyes.
Trembling, Faith reached inside her mind, trying to hear words that could help her. She was aware of Giles, Willow and Tara creating a flash of pure blue light, rising from inside their joined hands; of Algar reaching for her, a mist spreading out from his outstretched fingertips; of Xander shouting for her to move now, now…..then from the middle of all that a voice whispered into her mind. A voice that was weak and faint, but there nonetheless.
“I believe in you Faith, you can do this.” The encouraging tone of the voice was all she needed to hear. Drawing a sword from the sheath strapped to her back, she watched as, almost in slow motion, the moonlight glinted along the cold length of the metal, catching the force of the spell that the others had conjured up, joining with it until the blade was humming with supernatural power. Bringing the sword down over her head, Faith gripped the handle with both hands. She lowered the tip until it was pointing directly at Algar’s heart. Algar’s heart, she told herself, not Buffy’s.
She looked the demon straight in the eye and half smiled, the coldness of her eyes matching the blue-white magick of the sword itself. Algar, in Buffy’s body gazed down at the sword, slightly confused, then back up at Faith. The Slayer took a second before she moved. Her mouth open, short breaths of warm air were pushed into the night as her heartbeat raced. Everything she had wanted for so long was standing right in front of her. To defile that form was the one thing she must do to save it. Pity and fear merged inside her as she considered her own fate. If this was destiny, then destiny sure had a warped sense of humour, she told herself, a wry smile in her head if not on her lips. Her tongue reached out and licked her dry lips as she struggled to stop her hands from trembling.
“I love you Buffy,” she said, before plunging the sword deep into the demon’s heart.
The scream that came from Algar seemed to rent the air in two, ripping at the cool silence of the night with a burning ferocity. All onlookers dropped to their knees, except for The Slayer, who stood firm as a yellow gleaming mist whipped up from around Algar’s body, now inert on the ground. The fog surrounded The Slayer, almost lifting her off the ground, pummelling her, trying to find a way to regain its former home.
From their place on the ground near the headstone, Willow and Tara dared to uncover their eyes for a second to see Buffy’s body being flung backwards to where Faith’s lay. A whirling rush of wind sounded like a hundred tornados, pulling at clothes, hair, anything that wasn’t nailed down. The wind lasted only as long as it took for Buffy’s body to hit the ground, the breath coming out of her lungs with a loud ‘oomph’.
Then, everything was silent.
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