125 KPH by A. Aaronson

The yellow Cadillac burst through the night. Faith felt like a cork popped from a bottle, launched through space by the pressure behind her. Every second, every moment that took her away from Sunnydale eased her, lifted her. She’d done it, she’d played them all and now she taken the prize. Sure they’d sussed her game at the end, what did it matter? They were going to anyway as soon as she split. The only difference it made was to Xander, but who knows, maybe it would improve his looks.

Out of the windscreen the dark road stretched on, and on, and on. Back when she pulled out of Sunnydale she was busy gloating over her victory and checking the mirror for any pursuit. Then, as the Cadillac ate up the miles and nothing bothered her, she realised she never expected to make it this far. Well, she had a vague idea of what to do. Which was cool. Normally speaking. But now she had Buffy with her, a sick Buffy sprung from the hospital. And she was on the run from lord knows what the Watchers might send after her. She couldn’t just drift, she had to think ahead. So she did. That took a couple more hours.

Then the darkness had cloaked the land, and she flicked on the headlights. The farthest reaches of their glare defined her world. It closed around her, comforting her, making her secure. She allowed herself to begin to relax. She was safe, she’d even planned as much as she was gonna. It wasn’t working. She could still feel the tension right between her shoulders. She took her elbow off the frame of the open window and reached behind her head through her long dark hair, trying to pummel the offending muscles into submission. Ach, who was she trying to kid? Her body knew it was the night, knew that the monsters were emerging into the long shadows, knew any time it would thrill with combat. Look, what’s wrong with a quiet night in? Faith’s brain directed downwards. Her body took no heed, but to snigger quietly to itself. I have some control, dammit! I’m not like they all think, I choose, I have a choice! But the body knew better, the panic of the flight, the plotting, it had all distracted her, but now her restlessness would bear no diversion. It wanted the resistance of driving the stake through the vampire’s sternum, to feel the corrupt heart burst beneath and nothing but dust remain. To sing with battle and scream with the agony and the ecstasy of that deadly motion. It wanted to take, whether monster or man, whether unlife or ...

It started off small, striking her head to a soundless beat, twisting both ways searching amid the black for anything, anything to spark the interest. Her hair, the colour of jet in this darkness, tangled before her eyes. The energy leapt through her hands, drumming out a toneless rhythm on the steering wheel. It wasn’t enough. Her body demanded more.

A soft sigh escaped from behind her, followed by the slightest rustle of skin against sheet. Faith refocused.

i have a choice

The iron resolution clamped down on the rising heat. She sat still in the seat for a long moment, staring into the night. The fear descended. How could she look after Buffy is she couldn’t even control her herself? And she will need looking after, to be cared for while her body was weak and her memories were so dim. But what if she regained them? The cold, cold fear gripped her soul.

Nah

Faith opened her soul a chink and her eyes flashed with the cynical angry flare that burnt the terror to ash. Then she clamped down again. She had a choice. Control was all about release. She knew all about that, slaying, sex, the Bronze. It was all release. But not Buffy, she could never be just that to her. Just like the men, the boys. No.

No, all she needed was release. She was in a car. Car’s had radios, cd players, music. She could keep it low enough not to disturb the Buffster in the back. I am so good. Getting down for an hour, even only trapped in the chair, all I need.

A tape player? Get with the bronze age, man.

She jammed the first tape that came to her hand inside. It refused to go more than an inch in. Shit, don’t tell me it doesn’t even work. Lousy piece of crap. She tossed the cassette into the passenger seat and bent to take a closer look. After a moment’s embarrassment Faith hit the play button and the tape already inside began to whirl.

The soothing strains of violins filled the car from the tinny speakers. Some of the greatest music ever composed leisurely played to Faith’s ears.

The tape appeared to pause in mid-air before finally dropping and bouncing once, twice on the tarmac surface. The yellow Cadillac burned onwards.

Faith fished around for the discarded cassette, grasped the edge of it and thrust it home. The reassuring sound of the avalanche of a drum intro rewarded her pains.

 

I’m heading north I’m heading home, doing a hundred and twenty five,

I close my eyes and count to ten - haha yeah

and I’m still alive

Perfect perfect tunnel vision,

razor sharp and racing racing,

these moments, immortal,

no ... one .... touches this - These things they flow, as blood must flow,

dust to dust and wind must blow,

nothing that I need to know or ever understand

These things they flow, as blood must flow,

dust to dust and wind must blow,

you can die before I get old, but me, I’m gonna live

forever and ever and EVER

This was her kind of song. She looked ahead, the road was straight and clear. The thought sparked into life behind her eyes. A half-smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Why not?

The growl of the engine erupted into a roar as she pressed the hammer down. The white limb of the speedometer stirred itself from its resting place in double figures. Past a hundred, the engine wasn’t even straining. One Two Five, dead on. Her foot stopped rock still. Taking care to keep her arms steady on the wheel she let her lids drift down until her lashes lightly rested on each other.

One

Her mind produced a single image. The one she had taken with her, every detail perfect, memorised.

 

Well the music plays, the party swings, the gaiety walls come closing in,

I catch your eye, you take my hand - out into the night we run,

Dancing down those dead-end streets, howling at the moon like little kids - out on the grass at the top of the hill

She stands there in the moonlight, her frame so slight, so full of power. Her hair shines white in the light of the moon. Her face half-cloaked in shadow, her cheeks flushed from the running and the cold. Her chest pushes forwards into mine and mine into hers with every breath. A wisp of warmth curls from her lips, her lips...

All the laughter is gone, nothing left but the delicious pain of anticipation. I see my brown eyes in her blue. Gone is the fiery passion blind. I see a love, cool and unyielding from knowledge and ... acceptance. Those eyes, I am fixed by those eyes. Mine in hers in mine.

My heart-beat fast, shallow. My skull full, my head stuffed. No thoughts, nothing but the moment, nothing but the feeling, her touch. Her hand in my hair, beneath my hair on my skin, those crushing fingertips gentle on my skin, in my hair. Sliding down my head, my cheek, my neck. She cups me in a strong hand, my all tingles with life. Her thumb grazes/traces my lips, I think I’ll die.

She leans in close, her life is warm. My eyes stay open, I would see it all, remember all. The blue engulfs me.

The thumb slides aside, her lips move closer.

Blonde falls on brown.

Your breath tastes sw...

Tonight we’ll flow as blood must flow,

Dust to dust and wind must blow,

They can die before they get old but we, we’re going to live forever and ever and ever, ever, ever...

Ten

Faith’s eyes flicked open. Her pupils sparked. The corner of her mouth tugged into a self-satisfied half-smile. Five by five.

Still alive.