Chapter Text
Buffy isn’t sure exactly how they got here. On this battlefield with a knife in her gut attached to Faith’s shaking hands. Both Slayers stare down at the point of entry, a mirror of the eventful night on the rooftop that stole eight months of Faith’s life. Faith looks like she can’t quite comprehend what has just happened, despite the fact that there have been months leading up to this. Buffy takes a painful step backwards, effectively dislodging the blade penetrating her kidney. She feels slightly detached from her body while watching her blood drip off the tip of her knife. Buffy looks around at her sister Slayers still fighting all around her; fighting each other. Buffy falls to her knees in the wet, muddy grass. How did they get here?
A pain filled gasp above her steers her focus back to Faith. The dark Slayer’s eyes slowly start to shade over with a black smoke until there is no white left. Buffy gapes as Faith’s head jerks back and a agonized scream leaves her mouth as the black smoke rushes out of her mouth and nose. The disembodied smoke, seemingly done with Faith, blows away with the wind. Faith hits the ground with a tormented cry. Understanding slams into her like a mac truck as Faith crawls over to her, her body shaking with sobs.
“B, oh my god!” Faith lifts Buffy’s bloody body into her lap and presses down on the wound. “Stay with me here.”
“It wasn’t you.” Buffy chokes out weakly, a bit of blood spewing from her lips as she speaks. Of course, it wasn’t Faith. Faith isn’t evil, no matter what Buffy used to tell herself. She was a kid who was scared and alone and the mayor took advantage of that. Buffy had grown closer to Faith before the army of rouge slayers happened. Faith would never go back to evil willingly. It’s just too bad that it took her this long to realize it.
“It wasn’t me.” Faith shakes her head violently. Blood splatter covers them like rain as the fight goes on around them. “I couldn’t stop it. I’m so sorry!” Buffy wants to tell her it’s not her fault, wants to apologize because had Buffy known she was possessed she would have fought to free her. Realizing all of this now does nothing to heal the wound bleeding into Faith’s hands. She doesn’t even really feel any pain anymore. She’s had some experience with death, and she can feel that peaceful nothingness getting nearer.
“It’s okay.” Buffy raised her hand to squeeze Faith’s and gives her a sad smile as the edges of her vision fade into nothingness. The last thing she hears is Faith’s frantic screaming of the word no.
The moment she becomes conscious she wants to laugh. She never can get that death part right. Wherever she found herself, it’s super comfortable. Soft sheets against her skin and heavy duvet tucked around her; and is that mister Gordo she’s holding? Wait a minute. Buffy opens her eyes and finds herself staring at her closet…her closet in Sunnydale. What is going on? She slowly looks around at her old bedroom and startles when she spots someone leaning against the wall.
“Long time, no see. You look like hell.” Of all the people she expected to see, Cordelia freaking Chase wasn’t one of them. Buffy stands up and looks down to see her bloodied clothes and gaping wound from the battlefield.
“Am I dead?” Buffy pokes a finger into the wound and oddly feels nothing. “Aren’t you dead?” Her head tilts in confusion. “I’m pretty sure one of us is dead here.”
“Both, technically.” Cordelia smirks as she walks closer. She looks older than Buffy remembers, but not by much. The age she was when she died. Her blue dress is long and flowy. White gold jewelry adorns her neck, wrist, and fingers. It’s all very Cordelia.
“How come you look like that and I’m all death and blood?”
“If you don’t like it, change it.” Cordelia shrugs and in a flash is in a red pantsuit with a white blouse underneath.
“How did you do that?”
“Just imagine what you want to wear. Easy-peasey.” Buffy looks at her former frenemy skeptically before closing her eyes. When she opens them and looks down she sees her favorite white sweater she’d lost when Sunnydale collapsed and a pair of comfortable leather pants. She looks up at Cordelia’s scoff. “That’s what you pick out of anything in the world? Is it possible your fashion style got worse?”
“Missed you too, Cordy.” Buffy remarks dryly. “So, what exactly are we doing here? Where is here?”
“You are technically on the ghostly plane. I made it look like your room so coming to wouldn’t be such a shock.” Buffy takes note of the pictures on the wall and realizes this was how her room looked when Cordelia last saw it.
“You thought waking up in town that ceased to exist three years ago isn’t shocking?” Cordelia frowns at her with an indignant look in her eyes that makes Buffy smirk.
“I’ll admit, the plan had flaws.” Cordelia admits. “That doesn’t matter though. All that matters now is what you chose to do next.”
“What I chose to do next? Aren’t I dead?” She doesn’t remember having any choices to make in her previous deaths. There was just pain then peace, she liked that much better.
“Again, technically yes.” Cordelia answers. “But, hopefully not for long. Somewhere along the timeline something got messed up. That battle was never supposed to be. The spell activating the Slayers wasn’t supposed to be. Willow’s resurrection spell was never meant to be. So much more. You really fudged the bag with this one.”
“Why are you telling me this? Just so I know how much I screwed up?” Buffy bites bitterly. “And what do you mean not for long?” Just how many times is she going to avoid death?
“When I died, I got a fabulous promotion and became a part of the PTB. They want me to ask you to go back and try again. Maybe get it right this time.” Cordelia shrugs like she doesn’t have much confidence that will happen. Same old Cordelia.
“What do you mean go back?” Buffy stands from the imaginary bed and starts nervously fiddling with the pictures and knickknacks sitting on the dresser. She smiles while running her finger over the picture of her, Xander, and Willow from the year she moved here. Buffy never thought she’d make such fast friends. They stuck by her side even though her destiny took so much from them. She’s always thought they’d be better off without her.
“You’d be sent back in time to try to correct your mistakes. You’d be reliving years of your life, Buffy. It won’t be easy and there is no guarantee that you will make the right choices.” Buffy appreciates Cordelia’s honesty, something that hasn’t changed in her death. “This is your choice to make. Try again or leave things as they are and move on to the afterlife.”
Buffy aches with yearning for the peacefulness she briefly got to experience in her second death. The thought of going back to whatever heavenly dimension she was in is so tempting. There is just this one thing stopping her. The look on Faith’s face when whatever had possessed her left and she realized what she had done. How could she leave Faith with that guilt for the rest of her life?
“If I do it, go back, could I tell anyone?” It would be really hard to keep everything a secret.
“I would advise you to choose one person and choose carefully.” Cordelia warns. “However, that choice is completely up to you. The PTB is also sending me back with you if you chose to go, so obviously I will already know what’s going on.” Cordelia looks about as thrilled as Buffy feels about reliving events of her life.
“Okay.” Buffy chews on her lip without really feeling it. There is so much she would love to do differently, it feels wrong to leave the world in hell and say not my problem anymore; but going back for many fights, blood, pain, and death? Also not appealing. “How far back would we go?”
“They wouldn’t tell me that for some reason!” She almost yells that part at the sky, apparently yelling at the PTB themselves.
“PTB, always big on the secrets.” Buffy rolls her eyes. Would they ever stop being vague? She could do a lot more if they would just give her all the information she needs.
“Yeah, it bugs me too.” Cordelia cracks a smile. “Any more questions or have you made up your mind?”
“I don’t know. I’m not used to you being this informative on anything other than clothing.” Buffy can’t help but pick at her once frenemy. “I guess there’s just one question left.” She huffs a little squaring her shoulders and slipping into slayer mode. Cordelia must notice because she straightens from her relaxed pose as well. “How do we get there? God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You and me both.” Cordelia gripes. “When your ready just open your door.” Buffy walks to her door slowly, grips the handle, and pulls it open to reveal a bright white portal. A shudder goes through Buffy as she squints at the light.
“You realize I died in one of these, right?” Buffy turns towards her time travel buddy.
“Yeah…Well this one will do the opposite.” Cordelia gives her a rare apologetic look. Buffy sighs, turns back towards the portal, and steps through the light.