Title: One Way Ticket (1/?) Authors: Dolores and Faithtastic This part: Dolores Email: dolores_l@hotmail.com and faithtastic@jturner93.fsnet.co.uk Summary: Faith and Oz return to Sunnydale Rating: Probably up to R or NC-17 eventually. PG-13 just now. Spoilers: Any and all Oz or Faith spoilers for Season 4 Buffy or Season 1 Angel. Distribution: UCSL, Dolores's Domain. Anywhere else, ask and you shall receive. Feedback: Good, bad, ugly we don't care, we just want it. Disclaimer: Faith and Oz are copyright to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Productions, Warner Brothers and presumably numerous other faceless corporations. We intend to make no gain from this fic, we're just trying to redress the balance of the fates of, in our humble opinion, the most neglected Buffy characters. Notes: This is the sequel to 'Erase/Rewind', part 2 of a series we have entitled 'Not That Kind'. The title of this fic and the lyrics are from the song by the Mamas and the Papas, and the series title from a rather fantastic song by Anastacia. Thank you to all of the lovely people who have given us feedback, we were most surprised! **** One way ticket, take me anywhere/ Northbound, southbound, I don't even care/ I know the grass is greener there/ *** I felt the faint prickle of wolfiness rush across my skin as I passed the sign that told me that there was 20 miles between the van and Sunnydale. It was rustier than when I first saw it, 15 years ago or something. I'd always felt bad when I saw it. Just reminded me of stuff I'd rather forget. *** He stared out of the car window, bottom lip trembling, eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed, his crimson face barely providing a contrast to the tousled shock of red hair on his head. It stuck up at the back where he'd rubbed it against the seat, and he hated the world even more for that. His vision watered up again, and he blinked, sending a tear streaking down to join the rest that moistened the tee-shirt. Although the garment newly purchased as yet more compensation for leaving behind Berkeley was emblazoned with a conquering He-man astride a ferocious Battle-cat, Danny was in no mood to be bribed into happiness. Only Brown Ted, threadbare but ever smiling, provided some comfort, and the toy was clutched tightly to the small chest, rising suddenly as the small boy took in yet another gulp of air so that he could expel it in a soft sob. James Osbourne turned in the passenger seat to look at his son, who met his eyes with the same look of utter betrayal he had worn since the last of the family's possessions were loaded onto the removal van. Danny almost immediately broke the gaze, and hiccuped. Another fat tear, hitherto gently swelling at the corner of Danny's eye, set off down the child's face with the jolt. The older male sighed softy. Meredith, his new wife, lifted one hand from the steering wheel to squeeze his arm, meeting his anguished expression with a sad smile. No-one told you how to cope with a child's grief. He knew that he hadn't made it any easier on Danny by remarrying only 9 months after Charlotte's death something his in-laws from that marriage were all too eager to tell him. But Merry was a lovely woman, and she would make a wonderful mother if Danny would ever let her. For the moment, though, all his son wanted was his mother, and not this interloper that, in his view, tried to be her. His father knew that the boy certainly didn't want to move to Sunnydale. It may have been only Southern California, but James knew that as far as Danny was concerned it might as well have been Mars. The decision to take Danny away from his close relations and friends if, at age 5, they were really that wasn't one James had come to lightly. But he thought it best to take his son and his bride away from a house that was so clearly marked as Charlotte's. Not to mention the increase in pay that his new job would bring. In any case, his brother Kenneth lived near to the place, and from what he could tell, the town was too good to be true. James might not have Brown Ted, but he was comforted by the fact that from all accounts, he couldn't have brought Danny to a nicer, safer town. In time, his son would accept that it was the right thing to do. Danny clutched tighter to Brown Ted as they passed the sign that stated Sunnydale was 20 miles ahead. In his short life, Danny had made some absolute decisions. Brown Ted would always be his favourite, the white squidgy bit in Oreos would always taste better than the biscuit bits, cartoons would always be better than shows that had people, and he would never forgive Dad for doing this to him. It was the wrongest ever thing to do, and the sooner Dad worked that out, the better. As Sunnydale drew nearer, Danny wondered how long it would take to walk back to Berkeley. *** Look up at a passing train/ And there I am/ No matter where I am/ I'm passing through/ One way ticket, take me anywhere/ *** I glanced round to the back of the van. Faith had finally fallen asleep on the pile of blankets; she'd spent most of the journey sitting in the passenger seat staring out at the road. Her eyes were bloodshot, both from not having slept much in the last couple of days, and the grief I guess. She had barely mentioned Buffy since we set off from LA, except to sob her name once when I figure everything finally sunk in, about 10 miles out of Oxnard. Shed cried for a bit - which, despite the situation, still surprised me. In my head, I'd though Faith would be the type to deal with Buffy's death by going out and killing something. Maybe that will come. She'd crawled into the back of the van after that. We hadn't really said anything at all since the police station; I'd picked up my stuff from Eve's. She'd been pretty cool about everything; helping out with Faith's alibi, then not minding that I was leaving her kinda stuck for a bass player. "You're not coming back," she'd said, when I loaded the last of the stuff into the van. "Maybe." Eve'd shaken her head at that. "Nah, you're not. It was cool, while it lasted. And I'll have my hair to remind me. For a while, at least." Then she'd kissed me on the lips, winked and went back to the apartment. I thought that might have raised a smirk or a sassy comment from Faith. I don't think she even saw. I can't blame her. I think I'd go a bit catatonic if it were Devon, or Willow. As it is I'm a little stunned: I was just as willing to believe, like the rest of them, that Buffy was immortal. I guess at this stage I'm supposed to think about my own mortality, realise that life is short, get some perspective. At least, I'm sure that's the movie script for it. 'Cause if Buffy of all people can't survive 'til 21 then the rest of us are screwed. But the Hellmouth teaches you that sort of lesson when you're in elementary school so it's really only revision. The thing is that I don't feel as. . . terrible now when people I know are killed as I did before. Will I get to the point where I just won't care? No. If I go there. . . I become Veruca. I'm close enough as it is. Veruca was only a danger three nights a month, but if I start to think like her, believe that life isn't important, then I'm much more of a problem. But I won't let myself. And I do care about Buffy dying, I do. It just. . . doesn't have the same impact. At least on me. But Faith she's lost someone she loved. I can remember Buffy and Giles when that happened to them. Plus Buffy was a Slayer and I guess that must be even more frightening after all, it proves to Faith that she was lucky before. Buffy isn't invincible, so neither is she. That actually brings up a good question did another Slayer get called when Buffy died, or was that Jamaican girl the next jump? Is Faith the only Slayer? Will she want to take it all on, if she is? I suppose we won't know until we see Giles. Until we get back. Sunnydale. Well, it'll be interesting. Faith moans in her sleep, and I realise I've been daydreaming. I turn the radio on low, so it doesn't disturb Faith and smile as "California Dreamin'" is played. *** She was in the Boss' office. The big leather chair was turned away from her. It swivelled around and Faith met Buffy's eyes. "Hey, Grandma," Faith said. The blonde laughed. "Hardly, I can't cook pumpkin pie." Faith smiled. "Your eggnog was good, though." Buffy shrugged, and examined the stake that was imbedded in her chest near her heart, congealed blood in a black-red halo around the wound. Faith's mouth went dry, and she opened her mouth, but found she couldn't speak. Then Buffy was Finch, but the wound remained. Faith gasped, and Finch just smiled a smile without humour. Then he spoke, his voice a mixture of himself and Buffy. "Just think. If you'd just thought instead of acted, we could have stopped this." Another voice called Faith's name. Faith turned, and there was Joyce, sitting on her bed, hands tied behind her. "You try so many things," the woman told her. "You tried my lipstick, you tried Buffy's boyfriend, you tried Buffy's body. But I doubt you're ready to try on her shoes." "You're creasing the bed," said Faith, with a touch of anger, "Buffy and I just made it." Joyce snorted. "You got blood everywhere." "No! I washed that out!" Joyce gave Faith a look of pity. "My dear, those sheets are still in the machine." Someone put a hand on Faith's shoulder, and the Slayer whirled around, fist clenched, only just stopping herself from punching Buffy, who reacted by grabbing Faith's wrist. "Don't do that!" Faith cried, wrenching her hand away. "I think it's too late for that now," Buffy said, sadly. "If I could turn back time. . ." "Don't quote Cher on me, please." Buffy was fading into white. "You'd love me, like you used to do." "Who said I'd stopped?" Faith called after her, but Buffy was gone. *** Faith opened her eyes. The van had stopped, and the engine had been turned off. She pushed herself up, running a hand through her hair. The van's radio was still on, and she could hear Cher warble tinnily through the speakers. "Oz, man, turn off the radio." Oz complied. "Where are we anyway?" she asked. "Sunnydale?" "Yeah." He looked out of the window. "I wonder if Giles is in." *** Continued in Part 2 |