Fanfiction: Fire and Skin

Faith squeezed.

Her fingers around his throat. Her thighs around his middle.

She could feel his life crackling underneath her like electric fire. If she eased up the fire burned brighter and hotter. The more she squeezed, the weaker the heat, the dimmer the light.

The rush was better then sex.

“Do you get the connection now?” Faith whispered into his mouth. “Skin. Flesh. And under that, just heat.” He didn’t open his eyes to look at her. He was too busy trying to keep the fire burning.

“Can you feel it, Xand? The heat? The fire?” She crushed her mouth against his, forcing her tongue into his mouth and stealing even more of that precious air. Fuel for the fire.

He gasps around her mouth. A fish out of water. His body was as taunt as hers. Arching up. Reaching for something, anything that would keep it going. All it found was her. She was the beginning and the end of his universe right now. A goddess that could grant him life or take it away at her whim. He could produce no offering, give no prayer that could effect her decision. The only tribute she would except was that fire. His fire. His life. She could take it with a thought and a gesture. Just squeeze a little tighter and the heat would be hers.

On top of him, Faith felt him fight with every ounce of energy. One last defiant gesture to her will. His hands locked around her wrists and pulled with almost superhuman strength against her grip. His body and legs bucked like a bull sensing the end of the matador’s blade against its heart. His eyes opened and locked with hers. The depth of his will to live burned white-hot in his dark brown eyes. And Faith couldn’t look away. She’d never seen anything burn that bright before. Not in the things she’d killed, or the people she’d saved. That fire in his eyes was humanity laid before her, stripped of everything but the will to survive.

And then it was gone.

Faith frowned as she looked into Xander’s eyes and saw nothing but the dull reflection of her in them. “Xander?”

Letting go of his throat, the Slayer shook him a little. “Xander?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of fire.

His body was still underneath her. There was no gasping for air or attempts to fight.

The fire was gone. She’d snuffed it out.

The weight of what she’d done was like an icy knife in her stomach.

She’d killed him.

“Come on, Xand.” She shook him harder. “Wake up.”

Nothing.

She put her fingers to his throat, searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

Her ear against his chest, listening for even the faintest beat of his heart.

Nothing.

“Oh my God.” Faith whispered to herself.

It was repeated by a stunned Angel in the doorway, a baseball bat held loosely at his side.

Faith slowly turned to look at the vampire, her eyes wide. “Wha.”

Angel was by the bed in the blink of an eye, bat dropped to the floor. “Do you know CPR?” he asked roughly as he pushed her off Xander and checked for a pulse or a breath.

Faith didn’t answer, but simply looked at Xander

“Faith!” Angel barked at her, shaking her out of her world only enough for her to look at him. “Do you know CPR?”

She dumbly shook her head, and the souled-vampire wasn’t sure that she was really even looking at him. “I’ll show you. I can’t do it, but you can.”

“I can’t.” The Slayer looked back at the very still Xander, whose eyes had closed sometime in the last million years. “I took it away. I don’t have it anymore.”

Angel was in front of her suddenly, his face so deadly serious that she took a step back. “You’re the only one who can.”

The handsome face in front of her began to blur. Blinking, Faith dully discovered that her eyes were filling with silent tears. She felt herself being pulled toward the bed and instructions being whispered in her ear. ‘Hold his nose and breathe out.’ ‘Not to hard, you’ll break his ribs.’ She followed them without saying another word. Breathing and pumping. Breathing and pumping.

It seemed to go on forever. Xander’s lips pressed against hers. Her hands over his heart. Trying to restart the fire.

She’d give anything to restart the fire.

When hands tried to pull her away, she fought them. She had to restart the fire. The hands kept pulling her away. Turning she saw Angel and a man and a woman. Paramedics. They were saying they needed to get to him. Angel was pulling her away, telling her to let them work.

But she needed to do it. She took it away. She had to give it back.

“You did,” Angel said to her.

No. There’s no fire there. She’d know. She would feel it.

She was outside now. The air was cool and moist. A cold hand on her arm. Not there to offer comfort. It simply held her up.

Cold hands holding her hair back as she felt more bile pushing up out of her throat and onto the ground.

Cold wind in her hair as they road to the hospital. The dark town flew by her, each light that passed was a reminder of what she saw in Xander’s eyes. Burning so bright for a moment, before fading from her sight and being swallowed by the dark night.

Burning heat on her cheek, where Willow’s hand had struck her. It lingered there even while the other girl hurled threats and insults at her.

The weight of eyes on her as she sat silently with them all in the waiting room. Burning hatred in Willow’s eyes. Cool regret and sympathy from the vampire. Frigid worry from a former Watcher. And an unfathomable one from her sister Slayer.

A doctor’s warm voice tickles her ear, but she ignores it. It’s not hot enough. No heat. No fire.

Someone’s very lucky. Something was very close. A remarkable will to live.

Will to live.

Everything snaps into place like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. As if the world had been unplugged for awhile, and now someone had plugged it back in.

“He’ll be alright,” the doctor was saying to them. “There’s no sign of, um, brain damage. His throat will be in rough shape for awhile, tho. Who ever got a hold of him really had a grip on them.” Now the weight of Willow’s glare is really felt and it almost staggers her. “If CPR hadn’t been started when it had, I don’t think he would have made it.” Angel’s cool hand on her back offers a small measure of reassurance. “We’ll be keeping him here for a couple of days. To make sure there’s no problems.”

“Is he awake?” Giles asks.

“Can we see him?” Willow and Buffy say in unison.

“Yes, he’s awake, but he won’t be for long. We’ve given him something to help him rest,” the doctor tells them. “I think there’s time for one of you to go in to see him. But only one of you. I don’t want him excited and who ever sees him, don’t let him talk. The rest of you can see him tomorrow.”

As soon as the doctor leaves, the discussion begins. Willow immediately argues that she should be the one to go see him. Giles wonders if they should wait for Xander’s parents. They argue back and forth.

She wants to see Xander so badly. To make sure he’s alive. That there’s fire in his eyes. Heat in his body. To know that she didn’t take it from him for good. The discussion goes on, but Faith steps away slightly, knowing that she has no part in it

“I think Faith should go in,” Angel says, causing everyone to look at him. Faith stares at him in surprise.

“No!” Willow hisses. “Never again! She doesn’t go near him!” Buffy’s hand on her friend’s shoulder restrains her from spitting at Faith. “She’s the last person Xander would want to see right now.”

“Willow may be right,” Giles says quietly, his eyes on Faith. “It’s very possible that Xander would be…disturbed to see her so soon after.” The older man’s voice trails off and Faith knows that she’s shaking. She wants to run. To just get away from them. But she can’t until she knows for sure. Till she sees it with her own eyes.

“Faith?” Looking up, she sees Buffy looking at her. “Do you want to see Xander?”

A glance at glowering Willow causes the dark haired Slayer to look back at the floor. “I.” Her voice is rough. She realises that this is the first time she’s tried to say anything since before they left from the motel. “I need to be sure,” she says softly, more to herself then to anyone else. “I have to know that the fire is back. That I didn’t… That he’s. I need to see that he’s okay.”

The group takes that in for a moment.

“Then you should go see.” Faith’s head snaps up and she stares at Buffy. The other Slayer has no expression on her face, patiently ignoring Willow’s look of outrage as she looks at Faith.

Willow argues. She refuses to let Faith anywhere near Xander’s room, going so far to threaten to call the police. Faith says nothing but simply looks at Buffy. She doesn’t know why Buffy is on her side. After everything she’s done. The blonde Slayer exchanges a look with Angel. Faith feels the vampire’s hand on her shoulder again, this time urging her gently down the hall. Behind them, Giles and Buffy try to keep Willow from making true with her threat.

“I’ll be right outside,” Angel tells her when they reach Xander’s hospital room. She looks up at the vampire, searching for a warning or a threat in his words. She finds none and nods before going into the room.

The room is dark, except for a dimmed light right over the hospital bed. The heart monitor glows green by the bed, keeping a silent vigil beside the patient. A lone chair sits in the room, placed centre most by the bedside.

Xander, seemingly peaceful, lay in the bed, the covers pulled up high on his chest. His hair was messy, as if the doctor had tousled it good- naturedly before he left. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was sure and steady.

Almost fearful, Faith walked to the chair and sat down. She didn’t say a word, but simply watched the rise and fall of Xander’s chest as he breathed. She wanted to touch him. To feel the heat inside him. To know that the fires she had almost snuffed out were burning and growing again. But she held her place. It was torture. His hand was mere inches away. His leg hidden under a blanket only a little further. It would be so easy to simply reach out and hold him. Make that connection of the skin, if only for a moment or two. She would know then.

She didn’t deserve it, tho. She had almost killed him tonight. In fact, she was pretty sure she had killed him, at least for awhile. If Angel hadn’t shown up when he did, she didn’t know what she would have done. Not CPR. Not call for an ambulance. No, she didn’t deserve to touch him. To take any comfort from the touch of his skin on hers. To feel the warmth of his body, and know it was alive and he was safe.

She didn’t even deserve to be this close to him now. She shouldn’t have said anything in the waiting room. Should have let Willow come in. Or Buffy. Or anyone but her. She was a monster. A killer. This boy had come to her to try to do something good for her and she and killed him. Not because she hated him or was afraid of him. But because she had wanted to know what it felt like to wilfully take a life. The first time was an accident. Heat of battle. This time, Xander had just been handy. Like the last time. And he kept going on about their connection and she had to show him how wrong he was. That it was nothing more then skin. And she was right. But so was he. And it had killed him. She had killed him.

Faith felt tears on her face again, and realised she was crying again. Had been crying for awhile. She didn’t bother wiping them away, just closed her eyes and let them flow. When she opened them again, she saw Xander watching her, his eyes heavy but obviously awake and aware. “Hey,” he croaked, his voice sounding like he had a ball of sandpaper. Dark eyes looked at her from under his eyelashes.

Faith just looks at him. She has no idea what to say to him. Everything seems so weak and inadequate in the face of she did to him. What she took from him, if even for a short time. So, like so many others have done when there aren’t enough words, she simply says, “I’m sorry.”

Xander’s eyes are dark as coals as they stare at her. “You.” He winces as speaking the single word strain his damaged vocal cords.

Eyes focused on the floor. Unable to look at the accusation and pain that they would meet if they looked up. “Yeah,” Faith whispers, and it sounds so loud in the quiet room. “I almost…I did kill you.”

“You.” The effort to speak never sounded more painful. “You okay?”

Eyes up! There’s pain there. Yes. Both physical and emotional. But worry as well. For her. “What?”

“Buffy.Willow.” He swallows thickly, the sickly sound of liquid forced down. “Didn’t hurt you?”

An already overtaxed and emotionally drained mind gave up. It just quit. There would be no more thinking for awhile. “No. They didn’t hurt me. I know, surprised me too. Figured B would be using my stomach as a purse by now.” Her voice was remarkably calm, almost flippant.

Black eyes didn’t blink. Simply stared at her.

Faith shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable with Xander’s unblinking gaze. “So, yeah. Anyway, I’m glad you’re alright. I know things got.” He still stared at her. She took a shallow breath and fought forward, her front brave. “Things got a little nuts back at the motel. I didn’t mean.”

Xander still said nothing. Didn’t interrupt her at all. Simply continued to watch her, his eyes burning with that soft fire that made her feel good and bad at the same time. Why wasn’t he glaring at her? Telling her to get away from him? Buzzing for security or Buffy to come drag her away from him? “I mean, I was just having some fun, ya know?” Where’s the anger? The hate? Why is he so damn calm? “I didn’t mean to kill you.”

“Liar.”

One word broke her. Calm eyes not wavering as they looked at her. The dark knowledge that he had died because she wanted him to, burned in them. But there was no accusation in those eyes. No fear or disgust or any of the other things she expected to see there. Wanted to see there?

A sob escaped her lips before she realised it, tears filling her eyes again. In her whole life Faith had never cried as much as she had in the past few hours. But, then she’d never murdered anyone before and then talked to them about it afterward. No explanation for Mr. Finch, was there? He was there and gone in an instant. Then he was just a body. It was all over before she had realised what she’d done. It had been an accident. Not this time, tho. This time she’d set out to kill someone, and she’d done it. Enjoyed it. Until it was over, and a young man who had only wanted to help her was dead under her fingers. One of the people she was supposed to protect. She’d done worse then fail him. She had betrayed him.

‘I’m so sorry.” Faith chokes out between sobs. She keeps repeating it, over and over again. The tears are flowing freely over her face again, even though she tries to stem the tide by squeezing her eyes shut. The enormity of what she’s done threatens to crush her under its weight, and part of her welcomes it. She’s wants it to blot her out of existence. To make her vanish before the boy in front of her can condemn her.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

A warm finger on her face, tracing a tear. She opens her eyes and sees Xander reaching out from the bed, a hand extended to touch her. “It’s okay.”

Anger. It explodes inside of her like a neutron bomb. “It’s not okay! I killed you! I fucking choked you to death for a cheap thrill!” She’s yelling. He doesn’t flinch away, but his hand drops back down to the bed. “I’m no better then a vampire! I’m worse! I’m the Slayer! I’m supposed to protect people, and I’ve killed two of them!”

“Accident.” His eyes keep on her, the fire is stoked again. His face flushed.

“The first one, yeah!” She spits out. “Does it make it any better? He’s still dead, isn’t he? I dumped him his body in the ocean, didn’t I?” Her blood is up. She refuses to give an inch to herself. “But you weren’t an accident! I knew what I was doing! I wanted to kill you! To feel you die! No excuses! I didn’t hate you! You weren’t a threat! You never did anything to me! And I killed you!”

“Forgive you.”

A part of her collapses inside, but her anger and self-recrimination quickly attempts to fill the void left behind. “You shouldn’t! You should hate me! Be disgusted with me! What the fuck is the matter with you? I killed you for a kick! How can you lay there and say you forgive me?”

Xander is quiet, his throat working almost silently as he swallows. “Don’t want to.” A coughing fit. Obviously painful. His jaw clenches and tears come to his eyes. He continues anyway. “Don’t want. to. hate you.”

Faith deflates. The anger seeps out of her like air escaping a balloon. “You have to,” she whispers, trying to run away from any hope that appears in front of her. “You have to hate me. I hurt you. Killed you.”

A shaky breath. More a wheeze. Eyes blink away painful tears, and then return to looking at her. He shrugs. Then smiles. “Don’t want to.”

She leans forward on to the bed, resting her head on Xander’s thigh. Exhaustion. Deep breaths. The smell of hospital sheets, antiseptic and Xander. She feels his warmth through the sheets and blanket. “I’m sorry,” she says again. Her eyes close for a moment. She feels his hand on the back of her neck, a comfort. She’s asleep in less then a minute.

Outside the room, Angel turns away from the window and finds Buffy beside him. “Hey,” he says softly.

The blonde Slayer looks in through the window into the room, takes in the scene. “Do you think she’ll.they’ll be okay?” Her eyes focus on a reflection of him that isn’t there.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s not going to be easy. For either of them. There’ll be times when they won’t be able to look at each other and not feel anything but pain.”

“But two people can get past that. If they’re strong enough.” She doesn’t turn to look at him, and he knows they’re not just talking about the two people in the next room.

“Sometimes,” Angel says softly, looking at her reflection in the glass of the window. “If two people are willing to fight for something, then I’d like to believe so.”

Buffy lowers her head for a moment. The events of the night, the year and her life pressing down on her for a moment. A cool hand on the back of her neck. Offering some small comfort. She takes a breath and raises her head to look into the room again. Both Xander and Faith are asleep now connected to each other by a single touch of skin upon skin. Buffy leans back until she rests against Angel’s chest. His arms wrap around her. “They’re willing to fight.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes.” A whisper into her hair. “It’s…encouraging.”

“Yeah.” Arms tighten around her slightly and Buffy closes her eyes. “It is.”

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