I was a taller girl too, once. (regala_electra) wrote,
I was a taller girl too, once.

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Go Out Swinging 1/10

Go Out Swinging
Rating: NC 17 (overall)
Spoilers: AtS Series Finale
Summary: Wherein saving the world is merely a coincidence, bickering eventually leads to moments of pure genius, and completely unhinged and utterly doomed various personae manage to pull off a staggering moment of heroism. And how the Apocalypse isn't averted. A Comedy told in various parts.
Pairings: Faith/Illyria, Angel/Spike (minor: Illyria/Wes, Faith/Wes, Angel/Buffy, Buffy/Spike, Lilah/Wes, Wes/Fred)
Author's Notes: A plotbunny came and clobbered me on the head. And this is a dreaded WIP, but I'm going to finish this in a timely matter, come hell or the Apocalypse.
Warnings: violence, language, sexual content, slash
Feedback: Uh, please? Sorry, I was begging there. Feedback's always appreciated.

Beginning Again

First off, she's fucking blue.

Not like anyone's staring, but *damn* the girl is blue.

And secondly? Faith shoulda just refused when the old Angel gang called, asking for some help while they fought off the forces of Wolfram and Hart.

Well, that's the obvious part. And now she's staring at a blue woman in a kick-ass outfit waiting in the middle of the airport lobby, as if she's above LAX.

Which, admittedly, she kinda is.

Shit. She'd heard about Angel going into the lion's den, she hadn't thought he'd actually try to burn it down while he was inside.

But she made her choice. She took her e-ticket, waited the long hours to get on the plane, and sighed bitterly, as she had to leave her weapons at home.

Man. She really loved that new knife and no, it didn't make her think about Sunnydale and the Mayor at all. Sometimes, she actually could ignore the nasty memories. For exactly five minutes.

It's okay though. That's what she lives off of, that's what makes her keep on going.

Some people need easy thrills; they have to go out doing stupid shit without accepting that they're being dumbasses just for the excitement. Faith, she knows exactly what's she doing.

She's being five by five.

Coming closer to the blue chick, Faith realizes who it is. Or really, isn't.


The woman waiting in the airport isn't Fred. Because while Faith's memory is decent, she doesn't remember ever noting an element of "bizarro goth chick" in Fred's behavior, so pretty much Something Is Up.

She wishes she had a weapon on her, but thankfully, she can make anything work for her in a second, though this blue lady (who's looking less and less human, despite the Bizarro-Fredness) is clearly geared up for an asskicking.

Her kind of girl. She nods to her, but the Blue Woman doesn't respond.

Gunn limps in a few moments later, looking worse for fucking wear, his head lowered, as if he's traveling incognito. He limps a little, but he's trying (and failing) to cover it.

Faith's seeing the score now and it's looking fucking awful.

Blue Woman says, in a deep, slightly disappointed voice, "You are our Faith."

"I like to think of me as my own person, but sure, why the hell not?" Nodding to Gunn, "Where's Angel and the rest of the crew?"

She's proud of herself for not asking, "Hey where's Wes?" A couple of wild fantasies and a few moments of tension (really, really hot fucking tension) don't make an obsession. It might kindle some pleasant tingling, but that's about it.

At least, that's what she managed to make herself believe.

"We're, uh, relocated at the moment," Gunn explains, a frown almost forming on his face. He's clearly covering up something.

God, how badly do these people suck at saving the world? At least the sun seemed to be operational. For the moment.

"So," she says after a long pause, where Blue Woman keeps on staring at her, face unreadable, "Got minions of hell after you? Sounds like you need a Slayer. You sure you don't want to ask the Scooby Gang for some help? Willow's been getting pretty damn fearsome with the voodoo, so long as she's on this plane. Which, um, mostly she hasn't been. But the Scoobs are probably itching for a fight. Probably gotten used to the annual Apocalypse."

Blue Woman frowns at that. "How would poorly drawn cartoons aide us in defeating these wortlhess demons?"

Faith smiles her 'fuck you, too' smile. Blue Woman gets it, but doesn't respond in kind. "We haven't been introduced."

"Foul pleasantries," the Blue Woman coldly declares. "Meaningless."

"That's Illyria," Gunn says, attempting to break the tension.

Isn't working.

Faith studies her. Yeah, she doesn't trust her as far as she can - okay, bad choice. Short of it, she doesn't trust her.

"And why is she wearing a Fred suit?"

A shadow cast over Gunn's features. He says nothing more.

"The one known as Fred is no longer," Illyria says in a vaguely bored tone, as if she's said this several times and is tired of explaining, "I am bound inside her human shell."

Faith runs her fingers through her hair, pushing her hair away from her face. Someday, she'll learn to stop asking questions. "Right. Gotcha. So, I'm here for ass-kicking, and more ass-kicking. No more questions. I'll save those for Wes."

Illyria's composure falters for a moment. Her voice aches when she finally speaks. "Wesley has expired."

Faith tries not to look surprised. Actually, she tries not to do anything. No reaction at all.


"You watched him die, didn't you?" Faith eyes Illyria, and sees something pass in the too-blue eyes and for a moment, she feels such an irrational burst of anger that punching the inhuman expression on Illyria's face seems like a fucking great idea.

But she doesn't. This is about the big things, and Faith's figured out that her life (as awesome as the highs and destructive the lows are) doesn't count up to a whole lot when weighed against the survival of the world.

See? She wants to tell someone, but no one's listening. I've grown up.

Gunn doesn't look Faith in the eyes as he says, "We gotta move. They figure we're planning something, but I don't think they know about you yet. You got anything else?"

Faith shakes her head, holsters her backpack over her shoulder for good measure, relishing in the weight, and says, "Let's go."

For a second, she swears a smile flickered across on Illyria's face. Huh. Maybe this isn't so crazy after all.

Walking out of the airport, Gunn directing them to a busted clunker of an Oldsmobile and Faith can't help but shake her head.

From New York to Los Angeles, and out of the fridge (after recuperating from the fire) and into the splattering, greasy fry pan.

She's out of her fucking mind.

Shrugging, she tossing her bag across the backseat and gets in.

"You ready?" Gunn asks.

She smiles almost. Now isn't the time to lie. "Fuck yeah. Let's kill some bad guys." Under her breath, but clear enough for both Gunn and Illyria to hear over the sound of the car sputtering to life, she adds, "and die trying."

To Be Continued
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