WHO: Faith Lehane and Tenel Ka WHAT: As ever, Faith's fighting. WHEN: Late Sunday night WHERE: Spilling out of a club in a dingy back road RATING: TBD- but probably high STATUS: In progress.
Sometimes Faith longed for a night off. But being the Slayer didn't work that way. While she dreamed of spending the night in Kyle's arms, she was out, doing her job. As she had every night since Buffy turned. She wasn't just a Slayer any more, she was the Slayer. And the strain of it was starting to show. Jibes from others weren't helping, though she was incredibly grateful for those who knew her supporting her.
She walked into the demon bar, grinning darkly at the way heads turned to stare at her.
"Slayer..."
It was good to be recognized.
She slowly drew out a pair of blades, silver, and slammed them into the two Fyral demons trying to surprise her from behind. Then the fight began, various demons rushing towards her. She staked the vampires, decapitated a Strom. Twirled her blade across the spike of a Polgara. She let the instincts of being the Slayer take over.
Fighting, always fighting. Can't ever stop, ever. Stopping means dying. So can't ever stop, not even for a second. Don't react to the hits, just keep punching, kicking, stabbing.
The world fell away to leave just that feeling. That she was going to win and they were going to lose.
It's what so few understood about being the Slayer. It was more than just strength, speed, reflexes. It was instinct. It was letting that instinct take over so when the Polgara slammed her back into a wall, Faith didn't hesitate or wince, she just kept fighting back. It was the dreams. Seeing the deaths of every Slayer that had come before her. Tortured, butchered. None of them ever living beyond their twenties. Dreams of the future, blood, pain and Apocalypse. Knowing it was her duty to stop it. Her destiny to save the world and one day die doing so. Again.
"If you're gonna fight me, fight me," she shouted in rage at the attacking demons, fewer in number now that so many lay in pieces on the floor.
Can't ever stop, stop and people die.
Can't rely on anyone, even the closest friends can turn against you. Buffy. It seemed like they were destined to always be on opposite sides. Maybe there was never meant to be two Slayers at a time.
Eventually the demons were all dead and Faith was left staring coldly at the bodies on the floor before she put the weapons away and strode out of the bar, intent on finding the next lot.