Faith

-Faith-

The grass is frosty, brazened with beads of a growing rain and eerily white against the midnight fabric of the sky. Her ashen skin is flushed and scattered with the dust of a fierce battle, while her muscles are taught, though aching now, as she surges with a second burst of adrenaline that catapults her through the untamed grass and over the crowded headstones.

The sound cascades all around her, a corroded scream of agony, though dimming now and disappearing amongst the vicious howl of the wind and the sickening crack of raindrops. She pauses, her footwear sliding on the waterlogged surface, and shrugs the heavy leather jacket uncomfortably. Air whips past her ears, gushing against the hollows of her cheeks as she fights to steady her erratic breathing and catch the sound once more.

The area falls momentarily silent; she closes her eyes, forcing ignorance of the silvery drops that flutter around her, and focuses solely on the waning moan which, for her at least, transcends the wind’s cry.

It travels gentle as a whisper, cupping the right side of her face and luring her to turn and face it head on. She does so, her toes curling fearfully in her damp sneakers as she begins to run again, her breath catching in her throat as she hones in on the weak echo of her name.

In front of her the black arms of a large tree pierce the sky, jutting upwards and lurching uneasily from side to side. Her vision drops slowly to the foot of the tree, to the thick roots that burrow deep inside the muddy earth and the figure that’s cradled in the trunk’s rough folds.

The smaller girl forces herself onwards, her body protesting and her muscles failing her, making her footsteps awkward and uncoordinated, as she stumbles towards and eventually falls at the side of her companion.

Her eyes drift sullenly to the puckered mouth, which parts loosely in a feeble gesture of apology. She glances up then, in denial of those wincing features, searching for the words that will take all of this away.

“I’m sorry.” It comes out breathlessly, meaninglessly almost. The damaged girl furrows her clammy brow, the dying wind playfully lifting strands of her tangled hair. “I’m sorry I took so long to find you,” she clarifies gently.

The blood is already visible, a ruby streak beneath the thin white material of her vest.

“I knew,” the girl begins, her voice rattling unsteadily in the sharp rises and falls of her chest. “I knew I shouldn’t have lent you my lucky jacket.” A smile flickers across her sunken features, captured by a timely glint of moonlight. Her cohort rolls her eyes affectionately, trying to hide the glistening of her tears.

“Here,” she continues quickly, sliding the leather from her small frame, “you should have it back, you’ll get cold.”

“Buffy,” the girl releases suddenly, “it really hurts.” Her listless fingers spread over the affected area of her abdomen, smearing the blood further over the rough material.

The blonde remains silent, carefully leaning the girl forward and wrapping the jacket round the smooth rise of her shoulders. Then, swallowing heavily, she drops her focus to the wound once more.

“It’ll be okay.” She mutters, fighting the sick feeling in her gut as she begins to roll the girl onto her side, evading her uncomfortable whimpers and cries.

The grass beneath her is stained a dark red. Buffy turns away, her vision clouding and her stomach heaving.

“They got me from behind,” the other girl murmurs, “didn’t see ‘em coming. I’m sorry, B.”

“It’s alright, it’ll be alright.” Buffy repeats quietly, returning the girl to her former position. “I’ll get help, okay? And then it’ll all be alright.”

“No!” She clasps Buffy’s arm forcefully, her bloodstained fingers sliding over the supple porcelain of her skin. “B, don’t leave me, please.” Her dark eyes widen fearfully as raindrops spatter the tender increases of her cheekbones, forming as perfectly as tears.

The blonde raises her head, breathing in the weather’s salty air and sliding her hands into her lap.

“But if I don’t get help then you’ll-”

“I know.” The response is calm and causes Buffy to shiver. “This is how I want it, without all that heroic bullshit.”

“If we get you to a hospital they could-”

“No,” she whispers forcefully, “they couldn’t.”

A cluster of grey clouds slowly engulfs the moon’s soft glow, dipping the cemetery into the purest of darkness’s. Buffy watches the steady flutter of her companion’s hooded eyelids, her own girdled breathing falling short of her emotions as she threads their fingers together tightly.

The mahogany eyes drift in Buffy’s direction once again, capturing each line of her face as a thin smile spreads across her rose-tinted lips. Above them, the first morning’s bird begins to stir; electing a short and drowsy tune that swells with the percussion of the rain and washes over the duo warmer than any sunlight.

Nervously Buffy leans forward, her mouth parting slowly over the darker girl’s full and cold lips, teasing them tenderly. The response is slow, Buffy feels a soft tremble of eyelashes against her cheek and the lazy turn of her head as, finally, the girl’s mouth begins to part and suck languorously on Buffy’s lower lip. Buffy smiles into the kiss; her hands drifting into the dark tumbles of her hair as she wets the girl’s lips with the warmth of her tongue, enjoying the strong scent of her cappuccino skin and the feel of her fading and feathery breaths.

Warm tears roll between them, merging with the raindrops and slipping over their desperate mouths as they continue to kiss with remembrance and urgency. The darker girl’s moans of pleasure and pain clash in the air, riddled with the storm’s fresh purr of thunder, as their movements flash and break under the occasional thrash of lightening.

The kiss dies, hands still, breaths cease. Buffy presses their foreheads together, her mouth dropping a solitary kiss on each closed eyelid as she talks soothingly, offering words of love and comfort and holding in those of apology and heartbreak.

The storm continues to battle around them, casting handfuls of leaves to ground which, in the darkness, almost resemble an army of paper angels.

-The End-