After She Fell

Title: After She Fell
Summary: Buffy dies. Faith returns.
Timeline: After season five.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss Whedon, Fox, WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc. own everything. There is no overlap.

A/N: Look at me, finally coming back to this story! Man, it's been forever and a half. I will be concentrating on this one until it's finished, now. This first part is mainly the same, but I've added more to the end. It's about twice as long as it was. Look for more fun updates in the future!

After She Fell

*

I figured my sentence was up the night I felt Buffy die.

Jesus, but it hurt to feel her fall. It came over me like lightning, this electric sizzle that sent the world spinning. Like the whole planet was tilting just to buck me off. I lay in the dark and held my head until the dizziness faded. And I was left empty except for this pain somewhere over my stomach, hurting worse than hunger.

I rolled off my bunk and dropped to the floor, the concrete icy under my bare feet. I checked out the hallway. No guards on walkabout. Just the red glare of the exit sign and the quiet roar of laughter from the duty room T.V.

It was power that hit me next, a warm wave of strength pouring into me. Like being Called all over again. The world had to set things even somehow. From back-up to first string in thirty seconds flat. I gripped the bar nearest the wall and pulled it out and away, bending it something awful, slow enough so the creak was no louder than my cellmate's snores.

I guess Buffy was the only one who thought guards and bars coulda kept me here. Angel knew better, and probably his cop lady friend did too, but they let me make the choice. Fuck. Call it a choice--it was here or just one more endless fall.

Soon as the gap was wide enough I grabbed my stuff and slipped through, then shoved the bar mostly back into place. I headed for the windows at the far end of the hall, where the pipes outside the building would lead me down into the yard with nothing but a fence between me and whatever came next. I knew the all the ways out. I'd had long enough to find 'em. It was just the plan for after that wasn't too clear.

There was one thing sure, I had to see for myself what happened to her. Some things just can't stay forgotten. Buffy's too stubborn to ever let you get her out of your head. The fact that I wasn't with her--I wasn't killing her myself, or else I wasn't there protecting her when it happened, shit, even I didn't know which--it seemed wrong somehow. That was never how Buffy was supposed to go. And I guess really I was going back to the only place I coulda called home.

I won't lie, I looked back when I was out of range of the lights. Hell, I knew what promises I was breaking. I would've stayed, as long as they wanted, as long as I could stand it. I knew Buffy never believed that.

Never believed that in the end, I was staying there for her.

*

The house was the same as ever. Somehow I'd always figured all the dying in and around this place shoulda scarred it. But like Buffy and me, the house was left looking good as new, no matter what happened to it. If only you could fix memories like you could windows and doors. I rubbed a hand over my ribs, feeling the smooth skin that was just as wrong as this house was, now that B's mark was gone from it.

It took me a week to get here. I waited in L.A. to see if anyone was looking for me, any Council thugs or Wolfram and Hart lawyer types. Didn't see Angel and them, but Red was at the hotel their business card led me to, and I could guess why. I stayed good, didn't stake too many vamps in case it showed, and used whatever cash they had on 'em for food and new clothes. Not leather, even. Probably everyone--Angel and them--figured I wouldn't be running straight back to Sunnydale. Probably they figured I was long gone. Boston. Mexico. Wherever.

Never back here.

The living room lights were warm yellow, and I could see inside pretty easy. Flowers everywhere like a fucking excuse for sympathy. I saw Red crossing the room once or twice, and two other chicks who seemed pretty comfortable there. I remembered one of them--Tara--Red's girl. The other one was younger, and looked like B in a strange sort of way. Things had changed while I was gone, again. Just like Beefstick, the last time. No idea how he'd got there, where he stood in the group. Now this girl. One more reminder that I was never really part of their lives, here. I never deserved to know how things were going. No one even asked if I would help, with whatever killed Buffy.

Maybe that meant it was just one slip up, one lucky vamp. That nobody saw it coming. But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. The fall--she'd fallen--my belly clenched hard, fear shooting through me, just like when I'd jumped--down--the truck--the sudden endless hurt of landing.

I don't know how long I stood there, falling inside. When I looked again, the lights were out downstairs. I spun around, crouching down defensively, feeling around me for any vamps that mighta snuck up on me while I was mooning away.

Nothing.

The night felt empty, like even the Hellmouth could miss the Slayer, for a while at least. 'Course, it wouldn't be long until the vamps felt me here, and started acting up again. Maybe I should leave, head to Cleveland or somewhere, to keep Red and them safe. Maybe that was the only way I could. Sure as hell they wouldn't want me here doing them any favours. They'd call the cops on me as soon as look at me.

But even thinking that, I was already heading for the tree under Buffy's window. Call me crazy. It wouldn't be the first time. I hauled myself up to the roof and looked in.

At first I had no clue what I was looking at. My eyes said Buffy was right there, and my heart stopped dead. She was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, calm and still, and I couldn't breathe because what the fuck was going on? My body said there was something seriously wrong--that there was no way that was Buffy. I couldn't sense a goddamn thing from her. It was like I was trapped in a huge box, with thick glass walls blocking me from feeling Buffy. My body screamed that this wasn't real, like I was hallucinating, or dreaming. Hell, even in dreams Buffy was more real than what I felt, staring through her window. And I knew she was dead. I was still hurting with the feel of her death. My brain got stuck halfway between believing what I saw and believing what I sensed. Before I could get it together and think what was happening, I said, "Buffy!"

It came out hoarse and choked, but she heard me.

She heard me. She turned and looked at me, standing outside her window like some fucking peeping Tom. Her calm stare didn't change, and that was the weirdest of all. Buffy has hated me and Buffy has liked me but one thing I can boast about is that she is never calm when she sees me. I bring out the worst in her. I used to be proud of that.

"Buffy," I said again. I was jumpy as hell. This felt like a trap, or a test, or something. I'm all about the physical, and the real world is the only thing I'm confident in, usually. Seeing something I knew wasn't real put me on edge. The world itself was lying to me. I was wigged out and jittery, and Buffy just stared at me. Like she didn't even know who I was.

I yanked the window open and dropped cat-footed into the room. "What the fuck is going on?" I whispered. No need to get Red and them involved. I'm not sure I was even talking to Buffy. I still didn't really believe she was there.

"You are an intruder," Buffy said cheerfully. "If you have come to kill me, I must call Willow to unplug me. Then I will destroy you, luscious evil creature."

I shook my head, trying to clear it. "What?"

"I am Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," she said, and she had the fucking gall to give me her brilliant, gorgeous smile, like everything was just peachy-keen in her little world.

"You are not!" I said, forgetting to keep it down.

"Yes, I am."

"No you're fucking not!"

"Yes, I am."

I nearly disagreed again, but one look at her and I knew she'd be perfectly happy to continue the argument all night if I kept it up. I walked around the bed, and finally everything fell into place. That is, as much as it can on the Hellmouth.

Thick cables snaked from a laptop sitting on the far side of the bed, up and under the covers. The laptop was connected to a wall socket, and another electrical cord plugged into the wall joined the others beneath the blankets.

The laptop screen was flashing Buffybot Recharge Sequence.

"Fuck," I whispered. She--it was a robot. I traced the cables with my eyes. Buffy--the robot--watched me, smiling slightly. She looked exactly like Buffy, but there were so many ways she wasn't. Not just the fact that she felt dead to my Slayer senses, but that smile. It was so carefree, so...joyful. Buffy was always too fucking responsible just to sit back and let life happen. She'd never smiled like that, natural and happy, as if she didn't have the weight of the whole world on her shoulders.

And she didn't any more. She was dead. Red and the Scoobies were using this--this thing, this machine they'd built, and they were acting like it was actually her. Keeping it in Buffy's room, in her bed. It was even wearing her pyjamas. How fucking sick was that? At least I accepted that Buffy was dead. I came back to help, if they'd let me. Looks like they had other solutions they liked better. Anything but Faith, right guys? Even if it means pretending your best friend is alive when she's not. Even if it means lying to yourselves every second of every day. Anything but letting me say I'm sorry.

"Who are you?" the thing asked. "You are not in my facial recognition program. Are you evil?"

"No," I said. "I'm not evil." Like saying it could make it true. I didn't go to prison to forget what I'd done. Murder isn't exactly up there on anyone's Nice list. The Scoobs aren't the only ones who can lie to themselves.

"That is good. I slay evil things, except Spike, who is the evilest, most handsome vampire that ever unlived."

I ignored that. I remembered Spike vaguely, the blond vampire with the chip in his head. He'd been hot for Slayer when I'd last rolled through Sunnydale. I probably gave him enough material to jerk off to for a month. Looked like he and Buffy--the real one--had finally done something about it. It wasn't a surprise, from either of them.

The thing was still babbling about Spike's washboard abs. I tuned it out and pulled down the covers on the bed. I had to know for certain.

A section of the machine's stomach was folded back. Underneath, the cables connected to ports and sockets. Little tag-lights glowed red and green, flashing softly. The pyjamas were rucked up just under her breasts and for a second I wanted to push them up further and see just how real this robot was. Disgusted with myself, I went to push the covers down. My fingers brushed against the thing's surface. And fuck if it didn't feel exactly like skin. Warm and soft.

I saw goosebumps rise where I'd touched, and she breathed in, a little gasp that nearly undid me.

"You're not real," I said, but already in my mind the robot was a "she" again, a person, not a thing at all. Not Buffy, but not just a machine.

She shook her head, like a kid afraid of getting her lies found out. "I'm the Slayer."

"You're not the only one." This time I pulled the blankets up firmly. I didn't need to be thinking about what I could see underneath.

"You are also a Slayer?" she asked with delight.

"Yeah," I said, trying to hold back an eyeroll. "I'm Faith, the Vampire Slayer. But let's keep that just between us, okay?" I didn't really trust her not to tell, but wasn't like Red could find me if I didn't want to be found. I was leaving town anyway. If they didn't want me, there was nothing I could do here. Besides, maybe the Scoobs could live with this robot where Buffy should be, but I knew I couldn't. Dead was dead. Rest in peace was supposed to mean just that. The robot was like a ghost, or a zombie. Just...wrong.

"Faith, the Vampire Slayer, who is not evil," the robot repeated, like she was memorizing it.

God, how long had I waited to hear those words from Buffy's lips? They sounded a hell of a lot like forgiveness.

Too bad Buffy died before she could say them.

"Don't tell anyone I was here," I said again, heading for the window. My eyes were hot, and my throat was tight. I couldn't stay here, not with Buffy's face staring at me from a robot's body.

"But Faith! You can't leave! You are also a Slayer. We must patrol together and keep the world safe from nasty demons."

I let out a sigh that was half laugh, but fuck, it hurt. Buffy never once asked me to stay. Never wanted to go patrolling with me as much as the stupid robot obviously wanted to. "Okay," I said. "I'll hang out for a few days."

I'd have to, just to make sure the town wasn't going through anything apocalypsy. If Giles was around, I wouldn't worry. But I hadn't seen him with Red and Tara. Plus there was that other girl. That was enough of a mystery to keep me hooked.

And...I hadn't seen Buffy's grave yet.

I hadn't really said goodbye.

"Don't cry, Faith." The robot watched me from the bed, her smile turning to worry. So innocent. I guess robots don't know how much the world can suck. Lucky robots.

"I'm not," I said. I blinked and ran a rough hand over my eyes.

"You can visit me whenever I'm recharging," the robot offered.

"No, I can't," I said, because if I did, I knew I'd fall into this trap. The trap of thinking she was real. "Goodbye, Buffy."

And I slipped out into the night again.

*

To be continued.