Author's Notes: Better late than never, right? Guys?

Facing Demons

She was cold and alone in the dark of the woods.

Clammy hands clawed at her body, dragging her beneath a pit of damp earth and dead leaves. Her attempts to resist proved futile; their cold rough touch relentless, desperately pulling her down. Her legs sunk into gore-soaked mud that squelched horribly as she slipped further in. The trunks of twisted trees seemed to lean downward like eager spectators, cutting off the dim glow given off by the rusted red sky. Her arms were seized and forced down by her sides as her torso steadily disappeared into filth and decay.

As bone-numbing panic set in a figure appeared in the corner of her eye. Turning desperately toward this new source of help, she was stunned to find Buffy watching her struggle with amused curiosity.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The blonde's chipper, carefree tone contrasted eerily with the situation at hand and her once familiar face, still full of hope and love, looked like a beacon of light in the surrounding gloom. She froze, staring dumbly at the girl with her knee length red dress and meticulously crafted hairstyle, all urgency to fight against her unnatural burial forgotten.

"It's your birthday." Buffy chirped, clearly eager to recount this information as she wound a lazy path towards her, the blonde's thick soled boots crunching over hidden bones. She raised her eyebrows and her mouth stretched into a wide smile as she stopped, towering over her, "Guess what I got you."

A feeling of déjà vu made her feel sudden, inexplicable dread as Buffy smiled down in silence. Her pleading scream was too late, cut off by her own startled shout as Buffy's boot stepped onto her head and pushed it down into the foul, wet darkness.

Faith woke with a start, her head stopping short of connecting with the bunk above.

It had been the same nightmare Faith had endured three times already and once again she found herself covered in a thin layer of sweat with her heart beating to a frantic rhythm. It took a moment until the familiar bumpy rolling motion and gentle hum of an engine put her fear-induced confusion to rest and she let out a shaky sigh, beginning to relax.

Getting her bearings, she spied Willow over at the half-table in the kitchenette area, staring out the small square window above the sink. Since the RV was in motion and Xander was nowhere in sight she assumed he was in the driver's cabin like he had been for the majority of their impromptu road trip.

"You had another nightmare." The voice made Faith whip around to find the third passenger, currently peering down from the bunk above her own. Buffy's hollow eyed stare turned Faith's blood cold and she used all her willpower not to mentally retread the nightmare she'd just escaped. The omniscient, almost smug look etched on Buffy's face told Faith denying the accusation would have been pointless, so she simply stared back at the gaunt faced girl, doing her best not to look phased at being caught. A look of genuine interest crossed the blonde slayer's face as she asked, "How do you tell the difference?"

A crease formed on Faith's forehead as she contemplated what she meant. She decided to feign ignorance and walked off toward the front of the RV, uncomfortably aware of Buffy's eyes burning into her back. As the slayer slid into the driver's cabin she caught her first proper view of the snow-dusted scenery rolling past and had to do a double take. Faith had been so preoccupied with her own thoughts she hadn't been aware they were, for once, not travelling at a snail's pace.

Three days had passed since they had first landed in the great white north and received a welcome Faith could only describe as 'mixed'.

In that time they had made far less progress on the roads than Faith would have hoped and the slayer's brain, that was so quick to cynicism, convinced her they would have gotten twice as far hiking it on foot. Cars and trucks and coaches clogged the roads in both directions. The only positive thing to take away from their little slice of traffic hell had been realising that they were making far better headway than those driving in the other direction.

They were heading toward North America after all and anyone with some sort of sense was doing the complete opposite. A clunky but reliable radio Xander had picked up on one of their rare pit stops painted a vivid picture of how events were unfolding and from the scatter of traffic reports it picked up there appeared to be an enormous migration movement underway. Unfortunately, after the first few hours on the road they had found themselves caught in their own trail of panic. News of the chaos along the Californian Coast reaching Seattle and heading up into Canada had induced a ripple of panic across the country, sending the frightened masses as far East as possible. And so a journey that should have taken a day had stretched torturously over three.

Any chance they got to stop to pick up extra supplies or clothing - that didn't look like it had been through a war - was gratefully taken but often accompanied by frustration. People were panic buying, or just cutting out the middle man and straight up looting, which more times than not left the gang with slim pickings. Plus with most stores unstaffed and in disarray it hadn't exactly been Faith's fault if she'd dipped back into her old mantra of 'want, take, have' once or twice. It brought up unpleasant memories but if her morals had to slip so they could survive then so be it. In any case, she wasn't even sure if money still had value at this point.

But there were certain things you couldn't steal, a limit to the amount of time you could tolerate clothing that wasn't the right size and a line - that they had clearly crossed - where stinking of days worth of grime masked poorly by deodorant was acceptable. The cracks had begun to show in the group. The RV was nice and generously sized to a point, but it still felt claustrophobic at times, especially after hours upon hours in a gridlock. Tempers were growing shorter and nerves more frayed with each passing day. If they didn't find a new, more spacious set of digs with sorely needed utilities all hell was going to break loose.

Xander started when he finally realised Faith was stood right beside him. "Well hello silent and deadly. Sweet dreams?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." she mumbled darkly, squeezing into the passenger's seat.

"Allllrighty then." He acknowledged with a casual brightness that was far removed from his temperament of the previous days. He had been impatient and surly, snapping at her or Willow for simply poking their head in. After a few minutes of silence filled with Xander's cheerfully hummed rendition of a song Faith couldn't quite place she finally called him out on it.

"You're in a good mood." Faith noted, more amused than irritated by this observation. "That got something to do with the rubber we're currently burning?"

"You are correct, sir."

Between a forever moping Willow and an unhinged Buffy, seeing someone in high spirits was incredibly refreshing. Faith couldn't help but smile, barely suppressing a chuckle.

It faded when a cursory glance to the speedometer informed Faith that they were practically running on fumes.

"We're running pretty low on gas." She informed, doing her best to keep the concern out of her voice.

"Have no fear. According to the road signs there should be one in the next mile or so."

"Think we'll actually get lucky with this one?" Faith looked dubious.

"I've got a good feeling." He declared boldly, nodding to himself, "Ninth time's the charm."

It was a few minutes later that Faith heard a muttered, "Shit." She looked up, surprised to hear Xander curse, then followed his line of sight and quickly realised why his optimistic disposition had evaporated.

She stared pensively at the crowded forecourt, vehicles of all shapes and sizes cramming in to desperately get to a pump despite signs posted around the station declaring their reserves were tapped dry.

Faith looked silently to Xander who was wringing his hands on the steering wheel and working his jaw back and forth. He sighed irritably and Faith could tell he was weighing up their options. "We might make it to the border as we are. We're not far now and the road's been almost empty for the last dozen miles. Looks like we're the only ones crazy enough."

"Where else would we go?" Faith asked, genuinely hoping he had an alternative in mind.

He didn't seem to have an answer and without another word the RV continued down the freeway.

Xander spent the next ten minutes in silence. The humming had not returned and his face looked drawn. Eventually he softly asked, "Is it just me, or does it feel like we're leaving one Hellmouth behind to get to another?"

"A little." Faith exhaled the words quietly, rubbing at her tired eyes. "Maybe that's the point. You heard Red's theory on why we ended up here."

Willow had become convinced that the energies building at the Eastern Hellmouth had influenced their magick fuelled getaway, altering their trajectory and supercharging the teleport to the middle of Canada. More alarmingly, when looking at a map - as long as it wasn't Buffy's crayon-covered map of horrors - it would appear they had been placed between a rock and a hard place. Except in this instance the rock was an endless army of demons and the hard place was Cleveland's Hellmouth. Since only one of those options offered death as a possibility rather than a certainty, Faith and the others found themselves about to pass dangerously close to a city on the verge of an unholy meltdown.

"I think choice and freewill went out the window the day we left Sunny D." The slayer stated bitterly, "The First won and it knows it. We're just here to be played with till it gets bored. Or until we die." She pushed back in her chair and stifled a yawn, "Whatever comes first I guess."

Xander had little else to add to the discussion so Faith let her mind drift for the next hour, the scenery blurring in and out of focus as she did her best to think of anything but what would meet them on the horizon.

She was drawn from sleep when Xander murmured, "Heads up. We're here." There was a hint of anxiety detectable beneath his otherwise relieved tone, "Last chance to change your mind."

Faith immediately noticed the reception that waited beyond the small line of queuing traffic in front of them. She jerked her head in its direction and when Xander found what had caused a frown to darken her features, his face assumed a look of resignation. The silhouettes of tanks and soldiers stood between them and their exit back into the United States.

They weren't going anywhere.

The road outside burned black as gushes of flame erupted high into the air from deep cracks in the charcoal-coloured asphalt. Buffy watched the burning skeletal figure propped up against the charred remains of an unrecognizable hunk of metal, its burst tires and twisted frame slowly descending into the broken earth. A flame-licked skull turned to look her way and stared blankly, its jaw moving in a slow, rotating grind.

A murmuring voice gradually caught her attention and when she focused, its full volume caused her eyes to snap across the table to its source.

"You with us?" Faith asked in a voice that was a marriage of concern and irritation.

The blonde's eyes stared for a moment, hollow and unreadable, then flickered back outside.

A man who looked to be in his fifties leant against a battered old truck and regarded them with bored indifference, continuing to smoke a cigarette. Beyond him and the small parking lot lay an innocent snowy scene framed by the window. Faith took it in, wistful of how normal and innocent it looked, almost allowing her to pretend that hell wasn't approaching on the horizon. Seeing nothing of immediate danger or interest, Faith looked back to Buffy, growing more agitated by her behaviour.

Faith returned to the road map she and Xander had been going through, determined not to let Buffy's brand of weirdness get a rise out of her.

They had managed to get the RV into a small town in the middle of nowhere, just a few miles from the border. Dense forest and sloping hills walled in the charming rural community conveying a feeling of safety that Faith knew not to trust. The urge to play pretend was proving very difficult to ignore. It looked like Xander and Willow had already given in to the illusion; though their relaxed body language may have had more to do with finally escaping the confines of the campervan.

The motel they were currently holed up in had luckily still been open for business and Faith had walked in, determined to get a room with a bed and working shower. Luck finally befell them and the kindly older gentleman that owned the joint had provided two rooms free of charge for the one night, apparently feeling great sympathy after receiving them in such an exhausted and dishevelled state. Faith had been prepared to do anything, her life in Boston and prison having taught her a thing or two about trading certain services for favours. Canadians really were too nice for their own good.

They had all showered and dressed in fresh clothing, bar Buffy, who hadn't done much else but stand at the window and stare into the town from the moment they'd arrived. A food count revealed they had enough snack goods and tin foods to last them an astounding five days - if they half starved themselves. Faith knew she should have hoarded more from the last half-looted store they'd stopped at yesterday.

Faith, Willow and Xander were discussing what the next plan of action should be when the latter turned abruptly to the member of the group who hadn't said a single word.

"What do you think we should do, Buffy? You've had more firsthand experience than all of us combined, so if you have anything helpful to contribute I'm all ears." Xander asked with forced brightness, causing Faith to begrudgingly acknowledge the other slayer. The blonde had finally turned from the window but was hunched in the corner beside it, knees pulled up to her chin. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands and her fingers fidgeted slowly; her right thumb rubbed repetitively over her closed fist like she was attempting to ignite an imaginary lighter. This quiet place free from danger was making the original slayer all kinds of antsy.

"It doesn't matter." She eventually answered in a soft, faraway voice that stole the warmth from the room.

"What doesn't matter?" He enquired patiently. Buffy stared at him for a long moment. Faith got the impression she didn't want to give the answer. She sighed and closed her eyes, rearranging herself to get more comfortable.

Once settled she replied, "It doesn't matter what we do now. It's too late." Her tone was devoid of emotion, "We're all going to die here." These were apparently her last words on the matter as she pulled the hood of her battle-worn jersey over her head, hiding her face.

While the other two stared numbly, Faith observed the other slayer's cool exterior with deep distrust. She could feel the tension flying off Buffy in waves. That raw and alien sensation that Faith barely recognized as their slayer connection rolled over her skin and down her spine like fire.

Buffy was starting to lose it. This new Buffy was a blood-soaked killer, a hollow vessel where only the slayer remained, and days of inaction had left the girl without purpose or reason. There were no demons here, no distractions and therefore no place to hide from her recent sins.

Explaining that she needed a smoke, Faith had managed to slip outside and immediately sucked in the brisk autumn breeze. She shivered at the cold, the warmth retained by her hot shower contrasting sharply with her bare skin. She popped her neck as she rolled her head from side to side, leaning into one of the pillars supporting the motel's extended roof and released a cleansing breath.

Faith had felt hopeful and recharged after fighting that undead bitch in the woods. It had felt like the first win for them in ages and had been sorely needed for morale. But in just a couple of days the glow of the achievement had faded and a general weariness of everything and its attached terribleness had taken its place. She had begun to see that hope had no place in this new world taking shape around her.

And Buffy - Buffy was the personification of this madness. The best of humanity cannibalizing itself, driven mad with fear and grief; stripped of morality. Faith had hoped the events at the camp would have been a breakthrough for Buffy, the beginning of a path toward the light. Instead the slayer's condition had grown worse and she had spent their journey on the road avoiding eye contact and uttering only a handful of sentences that had caused nothing but unease.

She retrieved her almost empty carton from the back pocket of her jeans and drew out a single, white stick. Lighting the object proved less simple and growing impatient, Faith muttered curses at the wind as it continued to thwart her attempts.

"Alis incendari."

A flash of fire sparked at the end of the cigarette and Faith moved it away from her face in surprise. She scowled with suspicion at the offending object before glancing behind to see Willow. Her face suddenly looked rather impressed.

"Thanks." Faith said somewhat awkwardly. Unsure of what else to do she offered the carton in the redhead's direction. Willow gave her a queer look before shaking her head quickly.

"What? Hoping to die of old age?" Faith chuckled as smoke issued from between her lips, "I don't like your chances."

They stood outside together for a while and Faith waited for the inevitable. The witch clearly had something of importance to say to her; it being highly unlikely she was freezing her ass off for the view. When she finally found the courage to voice what was on her mind, the words she spoke were the last thing on earth Faith would have expected to hear - from Willow of all people.

"I'm sorry I brought us here."

Faith blinked. She spent a moment trying to work out why Willow was apologising, especially to the woman who had once held a knife to her throat. They had grown closer in some small ways during their time at the military base in Salt Lake, but being able to treat someone civilly never qualified them to be anywhere near BFF material.

"Uh, it's cool." Faith's surprised expression kept flitting between Willow and the carton in her hands. She fidgeted with the box, desperate to have something to do while Willow stared at the ground. Finally feeling the need to say something she tried with, "Don't beat yourself up about it, Red. You saved our skin."

"Tell that to Amy." was Willow's instant, sour reply, "Or those others that came through with us, burnt and twisted."

Faith's empty stomach lurched at the abrupt imagery she'd repressed for days.

"There's no point blaming yourself, Will." The slayer stated tightly, "Like they say, shit happens."

"I know it's not like I did it on purpose, but sometimes when I close my eyes all I can see are their faces. Even the ones back at the base, all those people we worked beside for months." Willow confessed solemnly. Not noticing the stiffness of Faith's posture, the exceptionally long drag she was taking or the agitated tick her right foot was developing, the witch continued, "But you're right. There's no point blaming myself-"

"Great. Now can you stop talking about it?!" Faith snapped, angrily flicking away the burnt stub of her cigarette.

Willow looked stricken for a moment and then turned awkwardly on the spot to face the street.

"Are you okay?" she tried after an uncertain pause.

"Five by five." Faith's half stifled chuckle and incredulous expression conveyed that clearly nothing would be okay from now on.

"Still don't know what that means." Willow smiled weakly when Faith scowled darkly. Sensing it might not be the best time to engage the slayer she added, "I can go if you want to be alone."

"Why are you apologising to me?" Faith blurted out, unable to hold back her curiosity and causing Willow to hesitate from leaving. "What do you care if I'm mad at you for stranding us here?"

The redhead tucked some hair behind her ear as she tentatively said, "Don't take this the wrong way but for a time back in Utah you were kind of our new Buffy."

Faith had opened her mouth to retort, brow furrowed defiantly, and her expression froze as Willow's words registered.

"You took her place when she abandoned us. I...struggled with that for a long time. Sometimes I felt like running out in the night just like she did, looking for an end." Willow revealed, her glazed eyes watching a car pass down the road that snaked around the thickly packed trees, "But you kept us together. It might not feel that way to you, but no one forced you to work with us, you could have hightailed it across the world and enjoyed life till the apocalypse came knocking. But you didn't. I may not have always shown how grateful I am for that."

The slayer was so stunned by Willow's admission that she didn't trust to open her mouth, fearing only garbled nonsense would pass her lips. Eventually recovering from the effect of Willow's outpouring she said with a lopsided smile, "That's sweet and all but I'm thinking there's another reason you're out here."

Willow hugged herself tighter, stroking her arms. Her heavy sigh ushered from between her lips as a white fog.

"What's wrong with Buffy?" The question sounded like it had come from a scared child. Faith was starting to feel like a fish with how often Willow had left her mouth gaping helplessly in past several minutes. Fortunately the wiccan had more to say, "I lost the love of my life and skinned a man alive and I didn't misplace my marbles." She managed the sentence with only a slight waver to her voice. "She seemed a little tweaked back at the base, sure, but ever since that night in the woods it's like..."

Now Willow was the fish, her jaw opening and closing as a clear struggle battled within her. "I look in her eyes, on one of those rare times she actually looks back, and I don't see my friend inside there anymore." Willow admitted in a low, thick voice.

"Honestly," Faith sighed, knowing her opinion would do little to ease Willow's mind, "I think, all this down time isn't doing her so good in the neurological sense. Weeks of nonstop death and destruction, without a moment to breathe, to reflect on what you're doing. Then suddenly it goes away." She remained thoughtful for a moment. "Now she's finally noticing all that blood on her hands."

The redheaded witch looked like she was mulling this theory over.

"So what are you worried she'll do? Have a mental break down?" Willow's eyebrows rose as she took on an expression of disbelief, "Cus I'd say she passed mental break down four stops back."

"No idea." Faith admitted honestly with a shrug. "She's not the first slayer to deal with doing fucked up shit, but it was just a few steps down for me. I know she hasn't exactly been as clean cut as when we first met but she still had to fall a whole lot further." She looked at Willow and with full sincerity said, "I don't know if you can be the person you were after something like that."

Sudden raised voices caught their attention and they looked back to the room in alarm. There was the distinct sound of something breaking and then Faith heard someone cry out in pain.

"Shit." Faith ran toward the room as she shouted out for Xander.

He staggered out of the door before they could open it and both women froze at the sight of his bloodied face. He was cradling his left arm. His one, wide eye latched onto Faith's expectant face, "I hit her." His voice wavered as he said the words. He was clearly in shock and another step forward caused him to wince at his injuries. Faith caught him before he could stumble to the ground.

"She just kept...talking about..." He struggled to get his words out between twinges of pain, "...I know she was doing it for...a reaction but..."

"It's okay, Xander." Faith said calmly, understanding just how good Buffy had become at pushing the buttons of others.

"I was so angry-"

"It's okay." Faith emphasized firmly.

The hollow laugh Buffy seemed to have adopted echoed loudly from the open room and made Faith's skin crawl in a way that made the chill in the air envious. The blonde stalked slowly toward the doorway.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Buffy taunted in an obviously acted show of concern. She pouted and inclined her head, observing the fallen man, "Poor baby."

Buffy checked the dribble of blood running down from her nose to the side of her mouth.

"You did that to Buffy?" Willow asked in astonishment.

"No. The chair I hit her with did." Xander explained matter-of-factly. He rolled his eye at their twin looks of surprise, "Oh, because punching her wouldn't have been suicide!? Despite popular opinion I am not an idiot!"

"No, just a coward." Buffy stated coldly. She examined the blood smeared across her finger for a moment then slipped it purposely between her lips, running her tongue along the bloody digit. Her eyes met Faith's mesmerized gaze and a coy smile crept across her face. Faith turned her head away, feeling a mixture of disgust and exhilaration she didn't want to address anytime soon. Anger quickly replaced them both.

They needed an intervention before this all headed to a very bad place.

"You think," Faith stood to her full height, her teeth bared and fists shaking, "you can just come back into our life, act like nothing went down and then start smacking us around?"

Buffy watched her with bored eyes.

"We don't need you, Buffy. Me, Willow, Xander, Robin. We all got on fine until you came along and fucked us all over - again!" She spat furiously. Buffy laughed a second time, a hollow, menacing sound.

"You don't need me, Faith?" Buffy asked with a deliberately exaggerated look of confusion. The mocking smile that cut across her face warned the younger slayer of what she was about say before the words left her mouth, "That's not what you said back in L.A." The blonde's top lip pulled back into a sneer, her challenging glare inexplicably seductive, "You told me exactly what you needed-"

The sound of Faith's open palm striking Buffy's cheek echoed like a thunder clap through the snowy night.

Faith was breathing like she'd sprinted a mile. Buffy's head hung low, her dirty hair draped around her face. There was a beat filled only by the sound of the mournful wind and the sense of anticipation that hung in the air.

She noticed the scarlet shimmer of the scythe too late and it was hefted above Buffy's head by the time she rolled out the way, narrowly missing being cleaved down the middle. Faith spun around, her face a mask of frightened disbelief. The image of Buffy standing over her as she sunk into the dirt flashed inside her head and it cost her the opportunity to avoid Buffy's next strike. The blonde was poised above her, teeth bared like an animal.

"You really should mind your manners, F-!" Buffy dropped to the ground like a stone, the scythe clattering harmlessly across the concrete. Only after experiencing extreme confusion and doing a double take did Faith realise she had fallen asleep.

Her gaze shifted beyond Buffy's softly snoring form to a bewildered looking Xander and then to a very guilty faced Willow. The witch looked torn between relief and horror. Weakly, she uttered, "Now what?"