Live The Questions
Feb. 10th, 2007 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Various (none this chapter)
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Warnings: Updated each chapter, none now
A/N: This is my second attempt at a post-NFA fic. The last one sucked, so we'll see how this goes. The title is taken from the Rilke quote, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions”
Faith bolted upright, dark hair plastered to her face. She blinked, mind racing frantically as she tried to piece together the images from her dream. Slayer dreams, not much better than crossword puzzle clues, she thought. Worse, actually, because there wasn’t any reference book cheating. Robin had loved the crossword puzzle. He used to try and broaden her horizons. She missed that.
So…fire, rain, screams. Well, either an apocalypse was brewing or she was having flashbacks to her last birthday party. Two things you could always count on, she groused as she slipped on her jeans, there’s always another apocalypse and Slayer birthdays always sucked. The poor new Slayers hadn’t known what hit them, she remembered. Most people dread growing older, but Slayers especially. Not the aging part, because for a Slayer another year not dead was good. But the actual day became something feared and despised by Slayers everywhere. The new Watcher’s Council actually had a Birthday Brigade that tracked Slayer birthdays and sent out Special Ops teams as gifts. Not as nice as cake and jewelry, Faith thought, but handier.
As she moved through her small apartment, the images from her dream began to sort themselves out. As the coffee brewed, she grabbed her cell, pressing number 4 on her speed dial. She wouldn’t bother with B or the Council. The kind of help she needed for this, she wouldn’t get from them. Nope, best to go straight to the big guns.
“Xander? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I’m okay. Well, no, I’m not. Look, can we hook up? Xander, brains out of your crotch, all right? I got a whole surround sound dream thing going on here. Yep. Yep. Is there any other kind? It’s either the end of the world or the aftermath of a Limp Bizkit concert. L.A. You’re checking the Limp Bizkit tour schedule? You need professional help, Patches. Yeah, it’s him. And Xander? He’s not alone. I saw Spike. Well, I guess it didn’t take. So, you in? Good. So where should we…hello?”
“Faith, I like the new curtains,” Willow commented from the living room.
“Jesus, Willow! You ever hear of knocking,” Faith asked.
Xander leaned down, and rapped his hand sharply against the coffee table. With a crooked smile, he sauntered over to the kitchen and folded Faith into a bear hug. She smiled happily. Xander had been there for her when Robin died, sharing his experiences of losing Anya and helping her over the rough patches. Since Faith’s rough patches tended to include homicide, she figured he deserved a medal or something for sticking by her. A hug, after all he’d done, didn’t seem too much to give.
“How you been, Brown Eyed Girl? Haven’t heard you from you in awhile,” Xander said affectionately, rubbing Faith’s back.
“Eh, you know. Eat, sleep, slay…not much new, “ Faith replied. “Seriously, can we put some sort of warning device on SuperWitch? That popping in trick of hers is kinda creepy.”
“Well, you told Xander it was the end of the world. He got excited, so we skipped the travel portion of the evening in favor of actually getting here before the fight was over,” Willow answered, a bit tense.
She and Faith had never been close. In fact, if it weren’t for Xander, Willow probably would have given this apocalypse a miss. After all, if you’ve seen one apocalypse, you’ve seen them all and she wasn’t really interested in battle mojo these days. After the Big Kennedy Break-Up and the resultant Scooby cheers, she wasn’t feeling all fight-y.
“Good point, Willow. And might I add, your new Kennedy-free ensemble is very becoming,” Faith said, beginning to gather weapons.
Willow winced, but didn’t bother to reply. No one had liked Kennedy, and there wasn’t any reason now to try and change that. Still, hearing any of the old Sunnydale crowd disparage her ex-girlfriend hurt. Another reminder of her failures, like she didn’t get enough of that from Buffy. Buffy, who’d told her that Kennedy made a poor substitute for Tara. As if that’s what Willow had been looking for, unlike some blonde Slayers who were busy dating every undead hottie they could get their French manicured fingernails on.
Snapping out her own thoughts, Willow watched Faith and Xander strap weapons onto various body parts. When they turned and looked at her expectantly, she shrugged and wiggled her fingers. Swords and axes were best left to the non-magic users. They just got in your way when you were casting.
“So, where’s the big party, Faith,” Willow asked, readying herself to transport three people.
“L.A. An alley. Best I can do,” Faith answered. Willow glowered, and sighed. Faith felt an itch inside her head and returned Willow’s glare. She hated having brain company, but this was the best way to make sure they ended up in the right alley. Not that the sounds of an apocalypse weren’t easy to follow, but getting there sooner rather than later was a good idea.
“Okay, got it,” Willow said and started humming. Faith felt a tingling sensation in her toes and looked at Xander curiously.
“Trays locked and in the upright position,” he asked, voice full of mischief.
Faith shrugged and gripped her sword tighter. She needed to be ready to fight when they…landed? Arrived? Whatever, she was coming out swinging. She owed Angel that much and she wouldn’t fail him. Not now, not ever, and she whispered, “You and me, Angel. Five by five, and I’m gonna piss in your ashes if you don’t hold on.”
Rating: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this chapter)
Warnings: Updated each chapter, none now
A/N: This is my second attempt at a post-NFA fic. The last one sucked, so we'll see how this goes. The title is taken from the Rilke quote, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions”
Faith bolted upright, dark hair plastered to her face. She blinked, mind racing frantically as she tried to piece together the images from her dream. Slayer dreams, not much better than crossword puzzle clues, she thought. Worse, actually, because there wasn’t any reference book cheating. Robin had loved the crossword puzzle. He used to try and broaden her horizons. She missed that.
So…fire, rain, screams. Well, either an apocalypse was brewing or she was having flashbacks to her last birthday party. Two things you could always count on, she groused as she slipped on her jeans, there’s always another apocalypse and Slayer birthdays always sucked. The poor new Slayers hadn’t known what hit them, she remembered. Most people dread growing older, but Slayers especially. Not the aging part, because for a Slayer another year not dead was good. But the actual day became something feared and despised by Slayers everywhere. The new Watcher’s Council actually had a Birthday Brigade that tracked Slayer birthdays and sent out Special Ops teams as gifts. Not as nice as cake and jewelry, Faith thought, but handier.
As she moved through her small apartment, the images from her dream began to sort themselves out. As the coffee brewed, she grabbed her cell, pressing number 4 on her speed dial. She wouldn’t bother with B or the Council. The kind of help she needed for this, she wouldn’t get from them. Nope, best to go straight to the big guns.
“Xander? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I’m okay. Well, no, I’m not. Look, can we hook up? Xander, brains out of your crotch, all right? I got a whole surround sound dream thing going on here. Yep. Yep. Is there any other kind? It’s either the end of the world or the aftermath of a Limp Bizkit concert. L.A. You’re checking the Limp Bizkit tour schedule? You need professional help, Patches. Yeah, it’s him. And Xander? He’s not alone. I saw Spike. Well, I guess it didn’t take. So, you in? Good. So where should we…hello?”
“Faith, I like the new curtains,” Willow commented from the living room.
“Jesus, Willow! You ever hear of knocking,” Faith asked.
Xander leaned down, and rapped his hand sharply against the coffee table. With a crooked smile, he sauntered over to the kitchen and folded Faith into a bear hug. She smiled happily. Xander had been there for her when Robin died, sharing his experiences of losing Anya and helping her over the rough patches. Since Faith’s rough patches tended to include homicide, she figured he deserved a medal or something for sticking by her. A hug, after all he’d done, didn’t seem too much to give.
“How you been, Brown Eyed Girl? Haven’t heard you from you in awhile,” Xander said affectionately, rubbing Faith’s back.
“Eh, you know. Eat, sleep, slay…not much new, “ Faith replied. “Seriously, can we put some sort of warning device on SuperWitch? That popping in trick of hers is kinda creepy.”
“Well, you told Xander it was the end of the world. He got excited, so we skipped the travel portion of the evening in favor of actually getting here before the fight was over,” Willow answered, a bit tense.
She and Faith had never been close. In fact, if it weren’t for Xander, Willow probably would have given this apocalypse a miss. After all, if you’ve seen one apocalypse, you’ve seen them all and she wasn’t really interested in battle mojo these days. After the Big Kennedy Break-Up and the resultant Scooby cheers, she wasn’t feeling all fight-y.
“Good point, Willow. And might I add, your new Kennedy-free ensemble is very becoming,” Faith said, beginning to gather weapons.
Willow winced, but didn’t bother to reply. No one had liked Kennedy, and there wasn’t any reason now to try and change that. Still, hearing any of the old Sunnydale crowd disparage her ex-girlfriend hurt. Another reminder of her failures, like she didn’t get enough of that from Buffy. Buffy, who’d told her that Kennedy made a poor substitute for Tara. As if that’s what Willow had been looking for, unlike some blonde Slayers who were busy dating every undead hottie they could get their French manicured fingernails on.
Snapping out her own thoughts, Willow watched Faith and Xander strap weapons onto various body parts. When they turned and looked at her expectantly, she shrugged and wiggled her fingers. Swords and axes were best left to the non-magic users. They just got in your way when you were casting.
“So, where’s the big party, Faith,” Willow asked, readying herself to transport three people.
“L.A. An alley. Best I can do,” Faith answered. Willow glowered, and sighed. Faith felt an itch inside her head and returned Willow’s glare. She hated having brain company, but this was the best way to make sure they ended up in the right alley. Not that the sounds of an apocalypse weren’t easy to follow, but getting there sooner rather than later was a good idea.
“Okay, got it,” Willow said and started humming. Faith felt a tingling sensation in her toes and looked at Xander curiously.
“Trays locked and in the upright position,” he asked, voice full of mischief.
Faith shrugged and gripped her sword tighter. She needed to be ready to fight when they…landed? Arrived? Whatever, she was coming out swinging. She owed Angel that much and she wouldn’t fail him. Not now, not ever, and she whispered, “You and me, Angel. Five by five, and I’m gonna piss in your ashes if you don’t hold on.”
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no subject
on 2007-03-20 02:03 am (UTC)This line made me laugh. Very interesting chapter. By the way, mind if I friend you?
no subject
on 2007-03-20 06:03 am (UTC)