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Summary
As the cold terror gave way to numb, self assured action, she felt it. The warmth that faintly buzzed in the roof of her mouth and spread through the back of her neck and up to her temples.
Just gotta get warm, Lehane.
Her feet took her towards it, like a moth through a cold and wide night towards a distant light to die in. She wondered if moths were fully satisfied when their wings turned to dust, their blood to hissing smoke, the fire taking away any part of them that could be cold ever again.
She liked to think they were.
———What if Faith woke up from her coma weak, weary, and seeking out Buffy for entirely different reasons than in canon?
What if she thought that her body and her circumstances weren’t the issue, but that something inside of her was permanently broken?
She leaves her coma, cold and desperate, to find the one flame that can purify her.
This is my first fic I’ve ever written and I’d love feedback!