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Heart's Desire	By : PencilNeck Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Buffy/Faith Views: 9582 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
Chapter 26:
Ghosts

The plane is filled with quiet for the most
part.� A cough now and then,
some stifled weeping.� But mostly it�s a
thick silence, the kind that nobody wants to break.� Every person in their own
world.� Every
thought one of pain and loss and shock.�
The only peaceful faces are those of the dead.

�It�s broken��
Willow stirs in her fever.� �Can�t� can�t kiss it better��

�Shhhh.�� Kennedy strokes Willow�s hand. She leans in
close and whispers.� �I�m here.� I�ll kiss it better.�

Kennedy pulls the blankets up tight against Willow�s
chin.� The worst seems to be over, but
Kennedy isn�t taking any chances.

�Come back to me, Will.�� Kennedy rests her head against Willow�s
chest, feeling it rise and fall in a scattered rhythm.� �I know you can do it.� Find me.�
I�m right here.�

�Won�t go.�� Willow slurs, shifting in discomfort.� �I tried but��

Kennedy sighs.�
Lifts her head and looks around her.�
At the people she�s come to see as hers.�
Her team, her friends, her family; whatever fits best.� She can see how they�ve been beaten and
broken, shoulders hunched and heads down.�
Most clearly she can where and how she failed to help them, to save
them.�

�I lost all the pieces�� Willow whimpers.�

She turns quietly back to Willow.�

�Me too, babe.�� Kennedy fights hard against the stinging in
her eyes, the sob waiting at the back of her throat.� She doesn�t deserve the luxury of tears.� �Me too.�

********************

Xander listens for the last low hum of the engines
to fade away.� The plane has
stopped.� They�re safe behind the castle
walls.�

�Alright everyone,� Giles
stands up, clapping his hands for attention.� �Let�s let the Meds take the injured out
first.� Everyone else stay seated for the
moment.�

Xander casts a grateful glance to Giles.� Happy to let someone else be in charge.� He stares out at the open cargo hatch, and
watches the Meds do their work, efficiently and gently.� All his people, every one.� He feels a pang for each, but can�t move from
his seat to help.� Can�t
stand once again over the bodies of his friends.� He can�t help them now.� He never helped, not really.� He only got in the way, always trying to
prove he could keep up with his super-friends.�
But he just got people hurt.� Just
put people in danger, or got them killed.�
He�s no superman.� He�s not even a
man.�

�Alright then, Xander?�� Giles puts his hand on Xander�s
shoulder.� �We�re almost home.�

Xander smiles weakly.� Fumbles with the safety belt and stands up,
holding the back rest for support.� He only has to pretend for a few more minutes. Get
everyone inside. Then he can go hide in his room. Under the covers
preferably, where no-one can see him, or ask him to be or do anything more than
he is. A coward. A
loser. A failure.

He shuffles down the aisle, letting
the press of moving bodies shove him toward the exit.� Someone behind him shoves a little too
hard.� He stumbles forward, gripping an
armrest to stop himself falling.� His eyes settle on something ahead that stops
him cold.

�Giles!�� He shouts, hopping on his toes to catch sight
of the man.� Giles has pushed ahead, too
far away for a discreet conversation.�
Xander makes a decision.

�Please!��
Xander shouts hoarsely, climbing over the seat in front of him.� �Everyone, please!� Stop!�

A few girls notice Xander�s weak plea and turn back
to face him.� Xander continues to walk
over the seats, bowing his head to avoid hitting it on the low bulkhead.� He needs to make this work.� He needs to do something.� To help, even in this small and sad way.

�Everyone, stop!�� Xander�s voice has an edge.� It cuts through the crowd and like a wave,
the sea of faces turn to him expectantly.

�We can�t leave them here.� It�s not right.� They�ve come this far� and�� Xander�s voice cracks with hesitation and
weariness. ��I wouldn�t ask.� It�s wrong to ask.� But I can�t do it alone.�� He stops in front of the open hatch, and
gestures down to the rows of bodies lying silent on the floor of the
plane.� �Please.�

Xander doesn�t ask again.� He just bends down, lifting one limp body
over his shoulder.� Without looking back,
he staggers toward the castle.�

One by one at first, then en masse, the soldiers
pick up the dead.� Some take two,
hoisting one up over each shoulder.�
Carrying their sisters home.

********************

Dawn wakes up.�
Her mind is fuzzy, and all she can hear is a loud buzzing noise.�� She brings her hands up to her ears, trying
to keep the bees from climbing into her brain.�
Her fingertips brush against cloth.�
She feels around.� Gauze has been
wrapped around her head.� Her hair�s been
shaved.� Not all of it, but a big chunk
on the side is missing.�

She remembers.�
She got hit in the head, and�� She
slides her hand down to her cheek; feeling for the scar she knows is
there.� It�s been stitched up.� She runs her finger down the length of
it.� Counts eight
stitches, from just under her eye to the top of her lip.� She should find a mirror.�

She moves her body into a sitting position.� Her Watcher training reminds her that she has
a concussion, maybe more injuries she�s not aware of.� She takes it slow.� She pulls the covers off, checking for casts
or other bandages.� She�s wearing a
hospital gown made of paper.� It�s
crinkly.� She can hear that over the bees
now.� No, it�s not bees.� The buzzing is in her head.�

She�s in the infirmary.� She recognizes that finally.� She takes one step, then another.� Passing white cots with
white sheets.� All of them have
people on them.� She stops at the foot of
the next bed.� This girl has red
hair.� The girl is writhing and
glistening with sweat.� Another girl with
dark hair is sitting at her bedside, cooling the redhead�s forehead with a
white cloth.� The dark haired girl is
trying to speak to her.� Dawn only hears
the buzzing, and crinkle of her paper dress.

The next bed has blonde hair.� Dawn knows that�s not the right way to
explain.� She tries again.� The girl in the next bed is blonde.� Pretty, pale and unmoving.

�Is she dead?��
Dawn turns back to the dark haired girl.�
Her voice sounds muffled.�

�No.� She�s in
stasis or something.�� Kennedy moves
slowly, standing up, trying to seem casual.�
�I think you should get back to bed, Dawn.�

Kennedy checks the door, glancing meaningfully at
the night nurse who is walking determinedly towards them.� Her look says �stay close, but not too
close�.

�I need a mirror.��
Dawn says it blankly.� �They cut
my hair.�

�They had to.��
Kennedy takes a step.� �Buffy will
be fine, I promise.� But you have to get
back to bed.� You�re not ready to be
moving around.�

�That�s Willow.��
Dawn takes another look at the redhead, her face showing her sudden
recognition.� �And that�s Buffy.�

�Good.��
Kennedy takes another step forward.�
�It�s good that you remember their names.�

Kennedy grabs Dawn gently by the elbow, guiding her
back to her bed.� She takes quick glances
back at Willow, obviously hesitant to leave her bedside.�

But Dawn is fixated on the two invalids.� Kennedy does what she does.� She sweeps Dawn up into her arms, and carries
her back to her bed.

�You did this before.�� Dawn is struck by another memory.� �You carried me��

�Don�t know what you mean.�� Kennedy deflects, putting Dawn down gently in
front of her cot.� She turns back toward
Willow.

�No.� No, I
remember.�� Dawn is adamant.� Almost shouting.� �I remember.�
You�� You��

Kennedy cringes, waiting.

�You took me away from her!�� Now Dawn is screaming,
the flashes of memory searing her mind like fire.� �She needed my help!� And you took me away!�

Kennedy sits down beside Willow.� She stares across the beds to Dawn.� Draws a deep breath for
courage.

�Dawn.��
Kennedy pushes the words out, keeping her voice as blank as her
face.� �She was dead.� You were badly injured.� I did what I had to do.�

�Dead.�� Dawn shivers, all the fight in her stripped
away with Kennedy�s words.� Her face goes
white.� Her head is throbbing.� Then the nausea, gurgling
up from inside her.� Her eyes roll
back into her head.� She starts to slip.

�Nurse!�� Kennedy waves her over.�

The nurse rushes to Dawn�s bedside, just in time to
catch her and lay her gently down.

�Stay with her tonight if you can.�� Kennedy�s voice is rough.�

�I�m on rounds, Ma�am.�� The nurse has responsibilities beyond this
one girl.�

�Just��
Kennedy pushes down the urge to intimidate, to yell.� �Please.�
She doesn�t have anyone else.�

The nurse just nods.�
Pulls up a chair.

********************

Giles sits at his desk, which for once is
immaculately tidy.� He�s been sorting
through papers.� Putting
his books back on their shelves.�
Avoiding the task that he knows is waiting.� But for all his efforts, he cannot find
anything else to occupy him.�

He opens the bottom drawer with a deep sigh, and
pulls out a thick folder.� The first of
many, he is sure.� Flipping to the first
loose sheet of paper, he reaches for the phone.�
Dials a number.

�Hello, this is Rupert Giles from the Academy.� Am I speaking with Mrs. Knowles?�� Giles keeps his voice steady.� �Yes Rita, it�s urgent.� I�m very sorry, but I thought you deserved to
know as soon as possible.� Your daughter
Hailey�� I�m very sorry Rita� but she
died last night.�� He hears the anguish
in her voice.� The weeping as this mother
tries to understand.�

�In the line of duty.�

�No, I know that isn�t much comfort to you and your
family.�

�Of course, Rita.� Hailey was an exemplary Slayer.� She saved many lives.�

�I understand.�
My deepest condolences.� I will call again in a day or so to confirm
the arrangements.�

�Goodbye, Rita.�

Giles puts his finger on the hook.� Lifts it up and waits for the dial tone.� Flips to the next page.� Dials.

�This is Rupert Giles.� Could I speak with Mr. Salvatore?� Regarding Serena, yes.�

********************

Buffy opens her eyes.� It�s difficult, painful.� She blinks, squinting hard to clear the haze
from her eyes.� Finally she looks up to
see Willow cross-legged on the end of the bed, chanting in a low whisper.

�Will?�� Buffy
croaks.� �Hey, Will��

�Oh, hi!�� Willow is jolted out of her trance.� �You�re up!�
That�s way faster than I thought.�
I was expecting at least a week and here you are, two days ahead of
schedule!�

�I�ve been out for five days?�� Buffy sounds louder and more panicky.

�I�d say not bad, considering the soullessness and
the giant hole in the chest.�� Willow�s
feeling a tad defensive.

�Sorry, it�s not you.� I just hate being out of it.� Makes catching up that much harder.�� Buffy tries to shift herself up.� She fails.�
�Everything�s so heavy.�� She
grimaces.�

�No go on the get-up-and-go.�� Willow slips over to Buffy�s side.� �You�re still not completely anchored to
yourself.� Everything�s gonna be slightly� well� wacky, for a little while.�

�How long?�� Buffy tries to move again.� She fails.

�A day or so, maybe.�� Willow ballparks it.� �I�m not sure about any of this stuff.� We can�t have your soul getting loose and
spilling out or floating away, so we have to be careful.�

�Good call.��
Buffy visibly whitens, lying perfectly still.� �Careful Buffy.� No soul spillage.� Got it.�

Buffy starts to ask something.� Decides not to.� Looks down at the thin
blanket covering her cot.

Willow wants to fill the silence. She knows there
are a million things Buffy needs to know, but this doesn�t seem like the right
time.� They can sit in silence for a
minute.� Maybe a few
minutes.� There�ll be plenty of
time to tell her everything.� To tell her about Kennedy, and about Faith.�

And Dawn.

�********************

Dawn looks in the mirror.� At the bald square on the side of her
head.� The red jagged
line cutting through it.� The long scar across her cheek.� She looks like the Bride of Frankenstein,
except less patchworky.� She giggles.�

Willow offered to magick
the scar away.� She refused.� She wants to keep it.� To remember every day why
she�s different now.� Why she�s
changed.�

She runs her fingers through her long dark hair.� Feels how soft.� Sees how shiny.

Grabbing a chunk in her fist, she reaches for the
scissors and hacks at it.� Grabs another
bunch and shears it off.� She�s picking
handfuls at random, just yanking and cutting.

Her hair hits the floor in thick, long strands.� They fall into each other on the floor; a
pool of soft, shiny despair at her feet.�

She looks in the mirror, admiring her
handiwork.� She snips at the tufts that
remain scattered around her scalp.�

She drops the scissors on the floor.� Drops her clothes there
too.� Steps into the shower,
turning the heat up as high as it goes.�
It stings.� She raises her hands
to her bare head, feeling the soft fuzz that remains there.� She likes it.

She feels better.
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Heart's Desire