WHO: Sam, Vampire!Faith, and Spike. WHAT: She needs to be dealt with, once and for all. WHEN: Evening. WHERE: Downtown. RATING: Expect violence and language. STATUS: Complete.
It had been a rough day. The part that made it the absolute worst, however, had little to do with the grand exit that Sam had made at work and a lot more to do with the fact that he had two people missing from his life. One, the woman that he loved, who was currently stranded in some alternate Hell while her vampire self was here, wreaking havoc on the city. Two being Ruby, the only person available that could make the unpleasant feelings inside him go away. One sip of her blood and he knew he'd have all the answers. All he had to do was drink it, then Faith would come back, the vampire one would go back home, and he and Ruby could go share a plate of fries while discussing the future. It was how it was supposed to be. Not like it was now.
Sam was standing at the rear of his truck, digging around in the weapons locker. Stake? Check. Holy water? Check. Gun? Check. Knife? Check. He was preparing himself. Stocking up with every available weapon. Sam had argued, he had denied, he had gone so far as to threaten everyone who dared lay finger on her. In the end, however, it was he who ultimately ended up making the decision.
Faith had to die.
Mirta had been right. Sam refused to admit it to her or anyone else, but it was an absolute fact that he could no longer ignore. This vampire was killing people. Faith, personally, had once requested that he take her out if a situation like this one ever occurred. The only upsetting matter was the concept of this eliminating all possiblity of them ever bringing the real Faith back. What if he was screwing this all up? What if they needed this vampire to make the appropriate switch? The act of hunting this vampire Faith down was like him putting a gun to the real Faith's head and pulling the trigger. But it was what she would have wanted.
God. He was already thinking like she was dead.
Hands shaking, due to a cross combination of his fear and the steady withdrawals he'd been enduring from his lack of a blood source, Sam slammed the locker shut and leaned back against his truck. He looked down at the stake that he was holding with an unsteady hand and closed his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to do this at all.