"She was beautiful, as fragile as the captured dragon she'd drawn. Was this some spirit's idea of a joke? Lindsey does one noble thing, saves some kids, and now the gods are playing dark avenger with his conscience?
"
"Faith was doing an almost flawless impersonation of Faith, Lindsey thought to himself as he followed her down a short flight of stairs. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was still the swaggering, lawless, conscience-free girl that Sunnydale knew her as.
"
"Darla felt like a faded prom queen, crossing out more names in the yearbook as time dragged by. It was a little depressing. The Master was long dead, Drusilla was missing in action, Penn was gone, Angel had turned all Jedi. At least there was still this. The kill. The feed."
"So, what happens now?"
"They had stopped in a small town on the way to anywhere. The town was called Potential, which had governed their choice to rest here for the day. The motel was on the outskirts. Faith was currently examining herself, on the edge of Potential. She liked that. "
"She wasn't coherant. She couldn't form thoughts, although forming the thought that she couldn't form thoughts was a thought she was forming, wasn't it? Her head was so busy. Oz had always said that, so many thoughts inside her head. If it was so busy, why couldn't she put the flashes together into a string of something decipherable? "
"..."Faith. " Lindsey's eyes rolled back in his head and he coughed, blood speckling his lips. "Latin names... I know Latin, I had to say the Latin to get the raising finished... did you know that the Latin for sacred is the same as for accursed?" he asked her, the words spilling out in a delirious stream. "Sacer. Like a vampire with a soul, or a Slayer." His voice trailed off into mumbling..."
"...Dancing like a little brown dryad siren to the unearthly song. It was almost heartbreakingly beautiful. Lindsey didn't know why, but it felt like they were being given a second chance. Whatever the reason for that feeling, he was glad. To have missed this moment would be a death of a sort, the death of hope..."
"...Rolling onto her side, Buffy watched Angel as he slept in the sun. This was love distilled into its purest form - a sunny afternoon with nothing to do but doze on the grass, the feeling of perfect, warm, human skin under her fingertips as she traced the line of his nose..."
More stories by Mary Borsellino (including many Btvs/A:ts ones)
Thankyou to everyone who has given me gushing feedback. You make a thankless task pretty damn.. uh.. thankie.
Explinations of the Crisis of Faith stories is a short ramble by me about the series, with some fanart I've done. Knock yourself out.
