"Miss Lehane," a doctor in a stupid blue outfit says to me.

They look like they're wrapped in paper. Blue paper that's meant to keep the blood off, keep the pain and the trauma from seeping into their skin. Wish I had me one of those right now.

I turn to the doc and nod, and he continues. "Is there anybody else coming to see him? It's just that . . . we need to . . . " he stammers.

He's young. Probably hasn't seen too much death yet. I have . . . seen it all, so many ways. So much pain. Hell, I caused a lot of it.

"Yeah, Buffy Summers," I tell him. "She'll be here soon."

"Is she family?" he asks.

They asked me that too, so I told 'em I was his niece. They didn't push any further and I didn't offer them any phone numbers of his nearest and dearest. The guy didn't have any far as I know. We were a lot alike in that way.

"Yeah," I tell him, "his other niece."

He doesn't need to know anything more so he scurries off. This is just a small town hospital, no bigger than a roadside motel. Their accents are thick, their clothes awkward, and the dust from outside looks like it's trying to turn the place back into desert. I don't know where we are exactly; I lost track a few days ago. All I know is that it's just another town, another stop along the way for us. Only this time, we ain't both gonna make it out of here. Not alive anyways.

I move over to the window, watching as the sun starts to set. They'll be out there, celebrating another kill. Celebrating the fact we fucked up enough to let them go. I fucked up. This shouldn't have happened. Not here. Not this way.

"Faith?" I hear behind me; soft, shaky, hurt.

Knowing it's her before I even turn around, I take a deep breath. This isn't gonna be easy.

"Buffy," I say, the word falling from my lips in a way I've never heard it before.

"Where is he?" she asks, not getting any closer to me than she needs in this small corridor.

I nod towards the door behind her, my arms falling to my sides; falling to pieces inside even though I'm doing everything I can to stop it.

She turns from me; doesn't show me what she's thinking or feeling beyond the shock. I watch her go in and close the door, shutting me out. There's a nurse in there, cleaning him up, removing all the evidence of how bad he got hurt before the end. I saw it all before they picked him up in the ambulance, before they tried to bring him back, before they started wiping away the blood. I held him in my arms as he died, as he took his last breath telling me it wasn't my fault. He was all I had, and I let him die in my arms.

It's a while before Buffy comes out of the cold white room. Her hand is over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She looks broken, her breaths coming in sobs as her gaze slowly turns up from the floor to look at me. I see it all; hate, anger, hurt, disbelief. It's all there. All coming my way.

"What happened?" she asks through her sobs. "How did he . . ."

Brushing my hand through my hair I feel my ribs shaking as I breathe. Gotta hold it together.

"Vamp nest," I tell her, carefully picking out the words in my mind. "That's what we thought anyway. Until we were jumped by slayers. We weren't ready for slayers."

I feel bile starting to well up into my throat; remembering the chaos, the screams and yells as they tried to tear us apart.

Buffy looks away from me, blinking tears from her eyes, her hands shaking as they try to find a comfortable spot at her sides.

"Why was he there? Why did you let him . . ."

"Couldn't stop him, B. Giles wanted to be a part of it. He liked being close at my back, in the fight," I tell her honestly.

He'd insisted lately that he played a more active role. It was all cool, the guy had some major magic going on. He could handle himself against the demons and vamps . . . but slayers were a different ball game. They didn't go down easy with stakes and holy water, or even spells. They fought hard, and there were too many of them. Far too many.

She shakes her head, not wanting to believe Giles is gone. I get it. I don't want him gone either. Wish I could wipe out this day. Make it all happen again with him far away. Wouldn't give a fuck if it was me they killed, I just want him not gone. He didn't deserve to die.

"We ran when I couldn't hold them off any more . . . but we got trapped on the roof," I explain. "Only way out was down some old ladder that was stuck on the side of the building. He went before I could stop him. Fucking thing broke and he fell."

I fight back a sob; the memory of him falling - hitting the ground - making me wanna puke. I got down somehow, ran to him, held him. He wasn't gonna make it and I knew it right away. I cried my eyes out, telling him to hold on, but he couldn't.

More tears spill from her eyes and she wraps her arms around herself, trembling despite the humid air.

"You should have stopped him," she tells me, fighting against her sobs. "He shouldn't have been there. With you."

I know it, she doesn't have to tell me that. Me and Giles had been working together a while though – after Buffy basically turned her back on him 'cause he'd come to me. We were getting into a groove. We were fucking good as a team. He got the info, found the places we needed to be, the vamps we needed to dust, demons we needed to get past. It was going fucking perfect, and every slayer we got to – after fighting past the monsters she'd thought were better than the good guys – we saved. We got through to them all. We didn't know about the pack of 'em holed up like fucking vamps. Didn't go prepared.

I shoulda known.

"I'm sorry," I say, barely a whisper.

"Don't dare say you're sorry. This shouldn't have happened."

I don't know what else to say. I can't tell her any different 'cause I know it's true.

She grabs at her head, her eyes hollow, so much pain inside her. I want to reach out to her. It's crazy, beyond fucking crazy . . . but I wanna hold her. I don't move. She'd never let me.

"You're always screwing up, Faith. Always," she says to me, anger staining her words. "This is one too far. You can hurt me all you want, but this . . . why this?"

A long sob rolls out of her and she looks like she's gonna crumble to the floor. I wish I could help. Wish I'd never let Giles tag along with my plans, or with me. He shoulda been with Buffy; his slayer.

Tears start to drip down my face and I can't stop them. I didn't wanna cry in front of her. Don't wanna be accused of taking away from her own grief. She won't think I deserve to feel upset. To feel hurt. Angry. Empty now.

"You have no right to cry," Buffy splutters as she tries to get control. "He was my watcher . . . my father."

It hurts too much to hear her grief, to practically taste it in the air. I wanna run. Hide. I wanna hurl myself off the nearest bridge for ever allowing him to get that close to danger, and for hurting her again.

"I'm so sorry," I say, tears flowing free, my heart breaking in my chest. "He was all I had. All I fucking had."

I can't stop my sobs and she swipes at her own eyes, watching me. Judging me.

"I should never have let him come," I mumble. "Can't believe I've lost him. Can't believe I . . ."

The words choke me and I can't breathe. He was the only one left. The only person I had to cling to. He never knew it, and I never showed it but that's how it was. Even when we only spoke once every other week before we started going after rogue slayers together, at least I knew he was there. He understood me. He knew me.

My legs get wobbly and I can't see Buffy through the tears, but I know she's closer now; I can feel her heat.

"Shh," she says shakily. " Don't."

Buffy's arms slide around me just before I collapse to the floor. I'd been holding it in. Didn't want to feel just how alone I really am now without Giles there. But it's all I feel. All I feel except for Buffy now holding me.

"I didn't get to say goodbye," she says quietly into my shoulder. "I didn't get to tell him I love him."

I can feel her crying against me as I do the same. Each breath a sob. Tears dripping over each other.

"He knew," I struggle to say.

Whispering that I'm sorry I let Buffy keep me against her. Her hands are stroking through my hair. She's holding me tight and my arms give in and wrap around her to hold her back. I don't know why she's not kicking my ass instead of this, but I can't think past the ripping feeling inside me.

She's shushing me softly, her sobs still coming in time with mine, and we're lost in a sea of pain. Drowning together.

"Buffy," I say, trembling even though I'm trying to hold stiff. "Buffy, I'm sorry."

"Stop it, Faith. Please," she says, swallowing hard.

Her hands are on the side of my face as she pulls back to look in my eyes. I look into hers and I see past the anger and the hate. I see her.

I don't know why – maybe I'm just fucked up – but I kiss her. I taste the tears and the grief. I taste her lips pressing back against mine. We both lose ourselves to the crying, to that sharp tang of salt. To whatever it is that's making us press tight together, our mouths moving hard and desperate against each other.

Breaths become more ragged, more insistent past the crying. We're clutching at each other's faces, holding each other still as we kiss. I hear a strained moan coming from Buffy, and her body becomes less rigid against me. Maybe this is about the craziest thing I've ever done. Maybe we just need this. I don't know what it is and there's no way I can even begin to think about it. I'm just holding on, trying to stay together . . . reaching out for anything. For her.

A closing door somewhere down the corridor breaks the kiss, but neither of us move away. Buffy's nose is brushing against mine as we try to breathe. As tears try to stop flowing.

"Faith," Buffy whispers, her hot breath blowing over my lips, "please take the pain away. It hurts so much. I don't wanna think. I don't wanna feel it."

I don't understand what she means at first and I lift my head to look into her eyes. She stares right into me, all her walls gone, all of her on show to me. I see so much inside her then that she's never allowed me to see before. It scares me, but I understand her, I know what she wants. What she needs.

Wiping my nose on my sleeve I suck in the air all around me, steadying myself. I won't deny her what she needs. As messed up as it is I get it. I feel it too.

Through all the years of hating each other, fighting each other, of avoiding everything we always should have said . . . there was so much more going on. There was always so much more between us than what we showed. We hurt each other to avoid the confusion. To avoid the dirty feeling around each other we'd always had. Dirty because it always felt wrong, always felt inappropriate or fucked up.

We'd slay, get bloody and dusty - so close to being demons ourselves - then we'd glance at each other and know it, sense it . . . that all we wanted to do was drop to the floor and fuck each other like dogs in heat. I could see the disgust flash through her eyes every time, and she'd call me vulgar for making a pass, then she'd go home or run off to Angel. We never talked about it but it was always there.

Even when we fought for real with each other – hell, especially then – it'd move into something else. The heat would take over, the down n dirty feeling that one move could turn it from fighting to fucking. She stood before me with a knife in her hand, ready to kill me, and I could smell that her panties were wet with anticipation. We wanted, we hated, we did everything we could not to look too deep.

But now here she is, asking for us to take what we always wanted. I guess grief makes you do crazy things, because instead of asking why, or pointing out that it would be fucking stupid, I take her hand and lead her outta the hospital.

We drive in my beat up old car the few blocks to the hotel me and Giles were staying at. Nothing is said, but our tears keep creeping out every now and then; splashing to the tired old leather of the seats, to the mud rubbed into the floor. I keep looking over at her but she doesn't look back, her eyes shaded, staring out at the road.

There's no fuss made as we make our way from the car to my room. I'm trying not to think or feel. Everything's empty, barren, no words or touches. I don't wanna do this, yet it's all I wanna do.

She stops by the foot of the bed as I pull my bloodied jacket off and drop it on to the nearest chair. Her back is to me, her arms limp at her side. She's crying again, hurting so much. All I want to do is make it better. For both of us. I want it all just to go away; to bleed out until it's gone. I want the pain gone. The guilt gone. I want to roll back time so we don't have to be stood here in this dark room, the walls closing in on us, pushing us closer.

Her body trembles and I step towards her, not daring to breathe too hard. My eyes are sore from crying, nose runny and heart aching. We shouldn't be here even thinking about this, but all I wanna do right now is reach out and touch, and do anything to take the pain away. The pain I've caused her again.

"B," I say softly, my voice hoarse. "What are we doing here?"

Buffy turns to face me, looking so sad and lost. I can't tell for sure but it feels like she was almost as sad even before Giles died. I can't ask her about it. I won't. That'd be stupid and seem like I was trying to be her friend. I know I'll never be her friend, it's just the way it is.

"Give me something else to feel. I can't deal with this. With him being gone. Please," she pleads, the words barely audible through the aching sadness.

Don't know for sure why it's me she's asking, but I have a feeling. Who else can she go to? Her exes? Nope. Her friends? Definitely not. I'm all she has right now, and she's all I have. We pushed it aside so many times, but now there's no pushing, only needing.

I step forwards, my hand kinda shaky as I lift it to her face. I touch her soft and get even closer; close until my lips are pressed against hers. It's hard again. No tenderness to the kiss, just desperate need. Our mouths are closed, lips moving together in a plea for more. She lifts her hands to my face, holding me, asking for me to give her what she wants. It all feels wrong, but so fucking right.

There's tears again and I don't know if they're mine or hers. It doesn't matter, it's all the same.

Without ending the kiss I start to unbutton her shirt and she starts to breathe faster. One of her hands slides into my hair, feeling its softness, letting it roll over her fingers. I flick my tongue over her upper lip, wanting to taste more of her . . . also wanting to forget, just like she does. Make it all go away until you think you can deal with it. I don't know if I'll ever deal with it but I'll take this chance to stop time just for a while. Everything'll go to hell afterwards, but right now it's all about feeling something other than hurt.

I know all about blocking out the hurt and the pain by doing something else, something bad. Spent my life perfecting it. I'd fight or I'd fuck, either way it had the same effect. Seems like Buffy's more like me than I ever thought. I know she's had some messed up moments in her past too. She lost people, she died, she came back and almost threw away her second chance 'cause she was too busy fucking a twisted vamp who thought he was doing the noble thing. It suddenly feels like I know her. Like I understand.

Pushing her shirt down off her shoulders I move away from her lips, her hands are tugging at my top, pulling it up. I let her pull it off over my head, hearing it drop to the floor as I watch her eyes wander over me. There's so much hurt in her eyes it's almost too much to see, but I keep looking. I want to speak, to tell her how I always wanted this, but the words don't belong here; not now. This is about something else, not about wanting.

I move back into her, my hands gliding over her warm skin, lips finding hers again. She opens her mouth to me this time, and her tongue slides between my lips, tasting me as I do the same back. I shut everything out but the sensation of having Buffy in my arms needing me. I know I shouldn't, and I know I should stop this . . . but I'm weak I guess. I'm weak and just want to feel alive before it all sinks in. Before it all gets too real.

Buffy's hands make their way to my bra at the back and she unclasps it easily. I do the same to hers, and they drop to the floor at our feet. My skin is tingling where hers is warming it. My nipples reacting, hardening for her touch as her hands sweep over my shoulders and down. She's not being shy; taking what she wants as she feels me up, as her fingers brush over my nipples, making me sigh a little moan for her. I do the same back to her, touching her until she groans into my mouth. My thumbs are rubbing over her nipples, getting her worked up, giving her something good to feel other than the pain.

Dropping one hand to the top of her jeans I stop for a second to look at her. She looks lost in the moment, her hands and eyes all over my tits as she breathes all ragged. I wanna do her so bad it fucking hurts. It's always been that way. It drove me fucking nuts.

Not stopping to ask permission – just feeling that I have it – I undo her jeans. Buffy takes a deep breath, her nose rubbing against mine, just on the verge of kissing. She's waiting. Waiting for me to give her what she wants.

I push my hand into her jeans, down into her panties. We're both breathing quick and my heart's pounding in my chest. I moan just as much as she does when my fingers glide over her pussy. She's totally clean shaven, all smooth and ready for me. Makes me wonder if she didn't plan on fucking me when she left Scotland. I can't think about that right now, though . . . not when I'm so close to feeling everything I wanted.

My fingers slide between her folds, her juices coating them, covering them completely. She's so fucking wet, and it feels so good to finally touch what I could always smell when she was around me.

"Fuck, Buffy," I mumble across her lips.

"Shh," she says, pushing against my fingers as they slip around in her wet folds, "don't talk, just take me, Faith."

There's still a big part of me telling me to stop. Telling me this is insane and that she's gonna use it against me once it's all over with. That part of me is being trampled on by the rest of me that's screaming at me to take her, to take what I need as much as she seems to right now.

I use my other hand to push down her jeans and panties, and she steps outta them. I'm just about to try to push her backwards towards the bed when I realize she's trying to get my pants off too. I help out, wriggling out of them with my hand still on her pussy the whole time. Once we're naked she looks me over. I can't tell what she's thinking, but I can see how much she wants me.

Before I start coming to my senses and stop this, I kiss her, hard and deep. I push her backwards, slowly, fingers moving over her hard clit as she gets up onto the bed. She's making soft moaning noises that are driving me wild, and her pussy is dripping all over my fingers. As much as I know something bad is gonna happen because of this, there's no way I can turn away now.

She lays back, blonde hair flowing over the pillows, as I kneel between her spread legs. She's totally open for me, showing me everything with her eyes fixed on mine. Her legs are bent at the knee and I think I'm fucking drooling as she opens them even wider. I don't have any choice but to slide a finger lower until it stops at her opening. Her chest is rising and falling fast, nothing but desire in her eyes as she watches me. I push inside her, moving my finger into her slick little pussy, her body trembling as I do it. She's fucking beautiful.

I let her tight pussy grab onto my finger as I take a second to enjoy being inside her. It feels so good, so wet, so mine. Buffy raises her hips a little, obviously needing me to move, to give her what she's seeking. Her eyes are hooded, drinking me in, wanton and dangerous. I've never seen her looking like that. Then again, I've never been between her legs with my finger deep inside her hole.

Taking my time, I slowly slide in and out of her, getting her to moan every time. Right away I realise I'm done for. That I'm never gonna be able to move on from her now. I know this won't do anything other than screw us up even more. Any chance we ever had we're blowing it right now . . . and I know I'll never be able to wipe this image from my head. It's all I'm ever gonna want from now on.

She moves in time with my finger, swallowing it inside her, covering it in her hot, sticky mess.

"Fucking sexy, bitch," I say breathlessly, hardly able to speak, my voice so thick and heavy.

Buffy licks her lips and reaches out for me, grabbing me hard and pulling me down on top of her.

"Fuck me, Faith."

I have no choice but to take my finger out of her and let our bodies crash together. We kiss firmly, hungrily, sucking and nibbling as her nails dig into my back. We both groan as skin touches skin everywhere. As my pussy slides over hers, adding to her wetness with my own.

I've fucked chicks on occasion, and it's been great . . . but this is different. I've never felt so completely turned on just by feeling somebody against me. She feels so good. So fucking good.

It's not long before I'm grinding into her and she's pushing up into me. We're not being soft and slow, this is rough and needy. We're gasping hard, moaning into the stifling heat of the room, the headboard bumping off the wall as we fuck. I move a hand between us and spread her pussy open for me. I do the same on me, pushing my lips apart so all I can feel is her. Pushing back into her she moans out my name, and I feel my heart flapping about in my chest. I should bolt, get the hell out before it's too late . . . but it's already too late.

Her clit is hard and swollen against mine and it feels like I could stay here forever doing this. Her legs are spread wide and I'm dripping right into her, covering her in me, marking her, taking her. Feels like nothing I've felt before.

"Oh fuck yes," she sighs as I pound my clit into hers, sweat soaked bodies sticking together.

She clings to me, her fingers grabbing at my lower back as I push up a little so I can look down at her. I keep moving, the sound of our wet pussies filling the gaps between her little noises and my grunts. Her eyes drift to mine, unshed tears making them sparkle green in the moonlight coming from outside.

I wanna keep this moment forever; her pussy quivering against mine, so swollen and wet for me. All for me.

"I hate you so much," she says with a tremble, her hands still gripping, body moving in perfect rhythm with mine as a tear rolls free to the pillow beneath.

"I hate you too," I tell her back before dropping back onto her and fucking her faster and harder.

The words didn't matter - they didn't say what they'd meant to. She didn't tell me she hated me and I didn't tell her it back . . . it was something else. The words said one thing, but the way she looked at me said another.

"Come for me, B," I whisper into her ear, feeling both of us shaking, close to the end. "I wanna watch you come for me."

Buffy moans loudly and shudders, her body pushing up hard into me, her pussy bumping solidly into mine. I lift my head to see her coming as I feel myself release right along with her. I try to keep my eyes open, but as she slams hers shut so do I. It doesn't matter, it still feels fucking amazing having her coming against me so hard.

"Oh God," she gasps. "Oh, oh, oh . . . fuck!"

"Fuck, yes!" I call out with her, my come easing out over her, mixing with Buffy's in the sticky heat between us.

I drop onto her, trembling just as much as she is underneath me. My mind is fuzzy, my body tingling all over like I just got hit by lightning. It's about the weirdest orgasm I've ever had. It was intense . . . more than that, it came from every part of me. All the parts I'd always held back, feelings I always refused to have.

Buffy's trying to catch her breath as I lay sprawled between her legs, and I'm waiting for the moment she pushes me off and runs. I know it's coming so I move a little to the side, taking some of my weight off her.

"Don't go," she says, so quiet I almost don't hear it. "Don't leave."

I swallow hard and rest back on her.

"Not going anywhere, B."

I feel her arms wrap around me, a leg move up and over mine, holding me close to her. Without moving too much I reach around me for the blanket, tugging what I can of it over us so our damp skin doesn't feel the slight breeze coming from the window.

She's falling asleep, her fingers softly moving into my hair as it flows over my shoulder, playing with it, making me wanna cry with how perfect the moment is. I wont cry though, I'll just wait until morning, or until she realises she needs to get away from me, and from what we just did.

I've got so many questions, so many things I need to ask, all this stuff inside me that needs to come out. I need to know what this means. I need to know why. Why now? Was it all just about feeling something else, or was it more? I doubt she'll ever tell me. Just another thing we'll never talk about.

Before I know it I'm falling asleep with her, her heart beating strong beneath mine, her hands soft on me, tender, loving. It all feels too good.

When I wake I know she's not with me in the bed. I stretch out and rub at my eyes, blinking into the harsh light. It's early. Real early.

"I need to get going," Buffy says as she comes in to view, buttoning her shirt up as she walks outta the bathroom. "There's things that need to be arranged. Flights. His funeral."

I sit up, letting the sheet pool around my lap. Her tone is clipped, free of any emotion.

"Willow's gonna 'port me back home, then I'll make some calls so . . ." she stops and takes a breath, her gaze moving to the window. "I'll have them fly Giles home, to England."

When she looks back at me I can tell she fought off the tears. She's back to being business-Buffy, needing to do what's right. What's expected of her.

I just nod, knowing she'll take care of all that shit. I wouldn't have a clue where to start, and anyway . . . it should be her doing it, she was his slayer, closer to him.

"I'll be leaving in a minute," she continues.

There's nothing much I can say to that, and she isn't telling me anything more. Looks like we're back to how it was, how it'll always be; avoiding, not talking about the shit we should be talking about. I don't know if I can fall back into that, not after what we did.

"What about . . ?" I look down at the bed, at the fact I'm sat here naked in front of her.

Her eyes follow mine, searching over my skin, over my body – or what she can see of it above the sheet. I see a flicker, a small glimmer of what she really wants, but it's gone before I can grab on to it.

"It was just . . . I don't know. It didn't mean anything," Buffy says, the tremble to her voice giving her away just a little. "I was upset. Confused. I just needed . . ."

She just needed me to fuck her. To take the pain away. Yeah, I get it.

I look away from her and run a hand through my hair, remembering how good it felt to have her hands doing that very thing. I'm stupid for feeling the ache inside me with the memory. Stupid for having let it happen.

"I get it, B," I say. "Didn't mean anything."

She nods when I look back at her, but she looks even sadder. I don't know what it is I'm meant to do or say. It all seems broken more than ever.

"I'd better go outside. Willow needs me outside to do her mojo thing," Buffy says, but she doesn't turn to go right away.

I sit on the bed, the sheet in wrinkles in my lap; covered in our scent, in the heat and fluid from what we did together. She stands by the door, hands clenched at her side, her face a mask, but her eyes no longer able to keep me out. Seconds tick by, the quiet of the room sucking all the air out . . . it's just like it's always been with her, yet completely different. Shifted. Moved. It's either somewhere further out of reach, or too close to even dare to reach for.

This thing we have, it burns around us, it twists us up in it and spits us out.

"I hope you'll come to the funeral," she tells me as she finally turns towards the door.

"I'll try," I reply. "Got something to take care of first."

She nods slowly and there's a weak smile. So weak and small I hardly see it before it's gone and she's out the door.

"I got some payback to hand out," I say to myself once the door closes and she's gone from my life once again.

I don't know if I'll be leaving this town for the next along the road, or if it'll see the end of both me and Giles. Whatever the case, whatever the cost, I can't leave without making somebody pay for taking his life.

If I fail, I hope Buffy can find somebody else to take the pain away with. Somebody better. Somebody able to tell her they love her when it's all they can feel.

I was never brave enough to tell her.