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A.Lite
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story
74 Days to Apocalypse
“I guess it started when I got hurt,” Forrest indicated his right leg, having spent the past few hours sharing as much of the Initiative’s plans and operations as he could remember offhand, “I broke my leg.”
“That was when you were saved from a Polgara demon, right?” Xander gave Forrest’s leg a critical once over.
“Thing was, the doctor game me a shot and told me I dislocated it. In a week I was fine.” Forrest shook his head, “I know it wasn’t dislocated. I heard it break. The way it snapped, I shouldn’t even be walking now.”
“Then what?” Xander asked.
“They’d been making us take these vitamins and eat only certain food made by the our cooks. After Adam killed the top-level bureaucrats, I got off the vitamins for a while, and a lot of stuff started to seem a little off. We had cameras in our rooms and microphones in the locker room. And then things kept getting worse and weirder.”
“How?”
“Riley started to give the orders,” Forrest shivered despite the warmth of the cafeteria, “I – we had to do some . . . things that I’m not proud of.” Forrest was having difficulty telling this part.
“Did you kill Mary Collins?” Xander didn’t bother to avoid the subject.
“No!” Forrest shouted and then caught himself. “No. That was Riley. I helped . . . with the body.” He buried his head in his hands, “I didn’t wanna admit it, but it’s Riley. I thought we were a family, brothers, but he’s changed. All he talks about now is revenge and getting rid of the hostiles. He’ll do anything. He doesn’t care about us anymore, even when we die for him.”
“What made so worried that you came to us?”
“I’ve been given a two day leave. I’m his second in command, but I don’t have any clue where he’s getting his orders. He told me that he’s bringing in some specialists to take care of the hostile problem.” Forrest shook his head, “I think they’re already here, and I don’t know what this is gonna mean. All I want is for you guys to give me some backup.”
“So why do you think we can help you?”
Forrest smirked at Xander’s gambit, “I read all the reports. Sometimes we have a perfectly planned operation to take out a hostile, but we get there and the hostile is long gone, family included. Our teams get attacked, beat up, but no fatalities, and they can’t identify who got them. We chalk it up to the hostiles, but you guys forgot something only I saw.”
“What was that?” Xander held himself very still.
“No dead kids. First three days of our recruiting, there were like thirty dead kids. After that, we don’t see anymore. Why? Hostiles don’t want them, or they wouldn’t have been killed. So somebody had to be taking them in,” he cocked his head. “You guys. I never got wind of a third group in Sunnydale, so I knew whoever it was had to be tight, incorruptible. I want help, and you are the only ones who can give me it. I want one good recruit to take back to the Initiative with me.”
“You don’t need to go back; you can stay here as part of us. You are one of us,” Xander reminded Forrest of his new Tarot membership.
“You don’t know what Riley’s like or what he’s planning. Before this, we were family, man. Now he’s killing left and right, hostile, human. He’s crazy. In four days, we’re gonna search every house in town, starting at one end and going to the other. It will be a through scan and search of everyone we find. Riley wants to find the hostiles.” Forrest took a deep breath, “He wants to find the Slayer. He knows she finished the semester, and he thinks she’s still around town.”
“Good guess,” Xander commented as a strange shadow passed over the web.
“Where is she?” Forrest checked around, noticing the feeling get odder.
“I know where she should be-” Xander dropped to his knees. The bond had suddenly gone dark as if something had blinded him from the link. Spike’s ever-present aura was blotted out by a dark and sinister presence.
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Spike was dozing against her. It had been a few hours since Gene, and he had fallen asleep. That made sense with all the energy he had expended the night before on the web and shielding out Gene’s second death. Buffy, at least, had the energy to go change out of her patrolling clothes and wash off her makeup.
With Spike asleep, Buffy marveled at how quiet things were. It was so much like how silent it had been when Gene’s ashes had washed over her, floating off the roof to the green grass below. Willow had told Buffy once joining the Tarot web took a little getting used to. There was always this chatter, white noise, which you could always hear. It wasn’t bad; it was pleasant in fact, a choir whispering you to sleep. Or so Willow said, but Buffy was never going to know. All she ever heard was Spike. That was all she could feel, and she truly didn’t mind much. Yet she shared everything with him, but he couldn’t do the same. There was that place he could go to, where he could hear the choir, that she could never follow him to. She was the outsider.
She tried to think happier thoughts lest her distress woke him.
Too late. He shifted once in bed and opened his eyes, “Pet? Something the matter?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Buffy schooled her features to communicate complete unconcern.
“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” Spike sat up. His hand brushed her newly cleaned face, “What’s botherin’ you?”
“I was thinking about how quiet it was,” she whacked him on the side of the head with one of their pillows, “But then you woke up.”
Spike batted it away, “Looks like I’m having breakfast in bed.”
Buffy giggled and bared her neck to him, “Bite me.”
“With pleasure,” Spike morphed and sank his fangs gently into her neck.
Wincing at the slight pain, Buffy could feel her essence flowing into him. Her body relaxed as his contentment enveloped her in soft wings. She could almost hear music past the roar of Spike’s happiness. She leaned into his embrace, driving his fangs deeper, still seeking the song. He tried to pull back, for he felt his teeth going too deep, but she would have none of it.
He tore his mouth from her skin, almost livid with frightened rage at her for endangering herself, “What are you doing? You trying to get drained?”
Gingerly touching the marks on her neck, Buffy bit her lip and decided to speak, “I wanted to hear the web.”
“Slayer,” Spike brought the demon back inside. “It’s nothing like what we have. It’s annoying, nowhere as good as this.” He held her hand to let her listen in on how much he loved her.
She let go of his hand, “But I’ve never heard the web. Everyone else in the Tarot gets to except me! Can’t I hear it once?”
Spike stared at the frustration in her eyes, not directed at him, but at the whole situation. He knew it was rough for her to not be able to join with that part of him and the rest of the group. She had to let everyone else have a piece of him, but didn’t get any of the benefits for it. “Okay.”
“Really?” She never expected him to agree so readily.
“Let’s try,” Spike, renewed by her blood, set her one his lap. He tossed his T-shirt on the floor and rolled hers over her head too.
Dressed in only her bra and pants, Buffy raised one brow, “Ummm . . . this is fun. Somehow I don’t see how this is going to lead anywhere but - ”
“Shut,” Spike quieted her. “You want try this or not? That’s what I thought. Do as I say, and don’t get upset that I’m going to get in touch with my inner Dru.” He pointed to his eyes with two fingers and then to her eyes. “Look into my eyes.” His voice was hypnotic, dragging her toward him from the inside. Buffy focused on the blue of his eyes, looking into her soul. “Be in me. Be in me.”
The blue got brighter and brighter until it was all she could see. Dimly she felt her arms lift, and then the contact. Palm to palm, forearm to forearm, chest to chests, shoulder to shoulder, forehead to forehead, white to black, light to dark. Maybe her eyes were closed, maybe they were open, she couldn’t tell. There was only him, surrounding her, touching her, filling her every pore.
She was being drawn into him, but she couldn’t make herself resist his magnetism. As she got closer to merging with him, he shrank back, letting her fill his place. She followed in and expanded with each passing moment to occupy the vacant space. Almost blocking him out completely, Buffy heard it.
Music. Lovely swelling music, colored by different voice singing different songs, but still blended together in perfect harmony. It was like hearing the music of the spheres. So beautiful, so wonderful . . .
Then the music was gone, and every nerve in Buffy’s body was on fire. She was back on Spike’s lap, and he was breathing heavily, his skin pasty gray. “Sorry, I can only let you in for so long.” He touched her lips with his fingers, “Did you like it?”
She trembled slightly in his arms as she shared the intensity of the experience with him, “It was pretty, but not as pretty as this.” She gave him a kiss, and they were lost in their own song. His song streamed over her, brighter, happier, infinitely deeper and more delicate than what she had heard of the other katras. Her own melody reached into him, assuring him that all was well with her and that she adored him even more.
Their door was abruptly kicked down, and Angel and Willow rushed in, crossbows armed. Willow checked all directions, “Clear?”
Angel looked around and finally saw the couple on the bed, “All clear.”
“What?” Spike grumbled when he broke the kiss.
Willow blushed, thinking she had interrupted something more than she had, “We thought Spike was getting attacked.” She shrugged at their lack of comprehension. “Spike got very quiet. There was this black silence, darkness, shutting him out.”
Xander poked his head through the doorway, “Everything okay in here? Four people, weapons, half-naked Buffy and Spike. Nope. Everything’s normal.”
“We were trying something new.” She realized what that sounded like and corrected herself, “Not that kind of new thing. He was letting me hear the web.”
“Which she did,” Spike stated proudly, if a bit wearily.
Willow gave that a little thought, “It’s possible, if she did an astral projection thing. If she were in Spike’s body, she’d have his powers, but we still wouldn’t be able to hear her.”
“That’s nice. Can all of you leave now?” Spike directed his words specifically at Angel, whose eyes were straying to Buffy.
“No can do,” Xander informed them. “I’m calling a Scooby Gang meeting in the medlab.”
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“As you can see here, he had a behavior modification chip implanted in his spine,” Dr. Goldenvich showed them an x-ray of Forrest. “It was similar to the ones I have been removing to our other members.” She put up a second x-ray without the chip, “I was able to retrieve it without any damage to his central nerve cord.”
“How long will he be out?” Xander referred to the far curtain.
“A few hours.”
“And about your other patient?” he inquired.
The dark haired male nurse came up and opened another curtain, “Physically, she’s fine.”
“Mentally, we have no idea,” Dr. Goldenvich expressed some regret at her lack of prognosis.
Buffy examined Faith’s still form, “So she could wake up any time?”
The nurse, the half demon Willow had met on the first day of registration, nodded. “It is very possible.”
“But we don’t know what she’ll be like,” Angel intoned heavily.
“Yeah, she could wake up as evil Faith,” Cordelia shuddered.
“Hey, but then we could send her to jail. Or kill her,” Willow piped up. Xander gave her a black look. “Or not.”
“She’s a killer. She killed people,” Buffy touched the other Slayer’s black hair. “If she wakes up, she could kill again.”
“You’ve killed,” Spike pointed out.
“I killed Blighters. She killed people for the Mayor. Innocent people.”
“Hence the jail part,” Willow recommended.
“What happens if she wakes up as a good Faith?” Anya suggested and received dirty looks from half the gang. “What? Isn’t that what we want?”
Giles sighed, “We need her help, but not if it releases evil.”
“We need to know what is going on in her head,” Wesley stated firmly. “Someone needs to go in and find out.”
There was quiet. The nurse and the doctor hastily excused themselves. Angel stared at Faith’s face, “I would do it, if I could. But I can’t.”
Buffy shook her head, “I can’t either.”
From the back, Oz agreed, “I’m not strong enough.”
“I didn’t know her that well,” Cordelia said. “She never tried to kill me, directly.”
Willow glowered, “She tried to kill me, directly. I’m probably not a good person for this.”
“I want to do it,” Xander spoke up softly. “I think I can.”
“I’ll do it. You’re all too close to this. All of you will let it color your judgment. I never met the chit,” Spike’s words got everyone’s attention.
Xander reluctantly nodded, “You’re right. It’s better this way.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Willow, Angel, are you two good for taking Buffy’s class?” They nodded, “Good.”
“Why?” Buffy asked as they left, confused at the loss of her class and Spike’s actions.
Xander pulled her to the side by the elbow, “You need to take Pike and go to your house. Make it look like you and Joyce went on vacation. The Hannibals are going to search it soon.” He let her go, “Say good-bye to your vampire.”
“Cordy,” Xander went to her next. She was not giving her top fashion statement that was for sure. Her whole posture screamed ‘shoot me now,’ and she was wearing something he had never once seen her wear in all the time he’d known her. Sweatpants. “You look like Hell. Go do something for the day.”
Relief crossed her face, “Okay.” Cordelia paused and informed him, “Oz is coming too.”
“I am?” Oz was surprised.
So was Xander. “No-” Then Xander relented because he would have sent a second person with her anyway. “Fine.” Cordelia seized Oz’s arm and dragged him away while Xander kept shifting the assignments. “Wesley, can you take care of weapons training today?”
“I can? I mean, I will,” Wesley puffed up and went up the stairs.
“And put Sam Zabuto in charge of research. Make sure he stays occupied,” Xander called after him and then moved to his girlfriend, “Anya . . .”
“Yes, I’ll do Cordelia’s psychic class,” Anya finished for him helpfully. She kissed him on the cheek and followed Wesley out.
“Be careful,” Buffy hugged Spike tightly. “She’s dangerous.”
“She can’t be any worse than you with PMS,” Spike licked the mark he’d put on her neck earlier.
“Really,” Buffy scooted away a little to let him see how serious she was, “Don’t trust her, even in her dreams. I trusted her once, and she stabbed me in the back. Not to mention the personal enjoyment she got out of trying to kill my other vampire boyfriends.”
“Other vampire boyfriends? Should I be jealous?” he joked. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She released him, and he paused, “Hey now. No kiss for good luck?”
Buffy lifted him by the lapels of his duster and planted one good and hard on his mouth. His hands twined themselves in her hair, and she sculpted herself against him. After a good minute of heavy lip-lock, Buffy dropped her arms. They grinned at each other, dazed, and she arched one eyebrow, “Feel lucky now?”
“The luckiest,” Spike confirmed and sighed as she went toward the stairs.
“Good. I’ll see you. Be in one piece,” She left.
“I take it you two are staying,” Spike addressed Xander and Giles who had not moved.
“You may need a Watcher in here, and I fancy she would rather I be in attendance than Wesley,” Giles explained.
“Fine by me. And you?”
Xander walked over to Faith and stroked her face, “I want to be here. I have to see this through.”
“I can’t make you any promises. She might smash me the second I go in her head,” Spike warned him. “Playing with people’s brains doesn’t always work out for the best.”
“We’ll take the risk.”
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Angel tried to wait patiently outside of Willow’s room. They were starting the noontime lessons for the recruits. She was supposed to go downstairs with him, but it seemed to be taking her a long time to get ready.
The door opened, and Angel’s jaw almost hit the floor. That wasn’t Willow; it was Cordelia wearing a tiny, white string-bikini.
It was so small it was practically indecent. The top was two little fabric squares that scarcely contained Cordelia’s generous curves, which were barely supported by a thin string around her neck. The bottom was even less, and it was all Angel could do to keep from ogling the miles of smooth leg he was seeing.
Okay, maybe he was ogling.
“Angel,” Cordelia must not have had any idea of what effect she was having on him as she tied a white, mesh wrap-around skirt on her waist. It did nothing to cover those legs. “Willow told me to tell you that if you were waiting that she would be ready in a minute.”
“Alright,” Angel dragged his attention from her figure to her face. There were some tired lines etched in her forehead, and she had chosen to forgo makeup, tying her hair up in sensible ponytail. “Where are you going?” He was suddenly worried.
“Beach.”
“Can I ask why?” Angel couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for why she would go.
“To get a tan,” Cordelia stated the obvious.
“How will getting a tan help prevent the end of the world?”
“Let me put it this way, Mr. SPF-One-Million. It’s July. I’m single, nineteen years old, and have the day off. In a normal summer, I’d have been at the beach every day since April. So, today I’m going to pretend this is a normal summer and I’m going to do what I’d normally be doing: tanning. Anything wrong with that?”
Actually, he couldn’t protest that very much because she had a valid point. Things hadn’t been remotely normal so what right did he have to begrudge her the sun and her youth? *Two things that you cannot share with her.* his thoughts mocked him. Still, Angel was reluctant to support her plans, “Did you . . . bring sunscreen?” He went on though he knew he sounded lame, “You could get . . . skin cancer . . . without it.”
She lifted a bag in her right hand, keeping her white wrapped left on the door. “Sunblock, hat, towel, bag, and bathing suit, all courtesy of Willow.”
Completely forgetting anything she had said except the last part, Angel gaped, “That’s Willow’s?”
“Yeah. It’s a little tight, but Wesley didn’t pack me one, and it’s not safe enough for me to hop in the mall and get my own.”
Angel glanced down her body, forced himself to stop sizing up her chest, and inquired, “Are the beaches safe?” The Hannibals were patrolling everywhere, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.
“They should be. No one goes there anymore. Something about the mysterious daytime disappearances and armed patrols discouraging people from fun in the sun.” She shrugged and braced herself, exhausted, on the doorframe. “I’m gonna go there, get some R and R, and pretend yesterday never happened.”
So she was troubled by Gene’s death the day before. It made sense, she was young and intimately connected with the web. Another thing he wasn’t, but it had to be difficult for her.
He reached up and brushed back a loose strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “I understand, but I worry. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Angel stared into her brown eyes; his concern so evident.
She placed her right hand over his, “Nothing is going to happen.”
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure, boss,” Cordelia smiled weakly, gazing into his eyes.
“I don’t like the idea of you going off alone,” he tried to take her left hand in his.
She jerked away, keeping her left from him, “Alone? I’m not going alone. Oz!”
The werewolf in question popped out from the room he and Angel shared wearing a black T-shirt and flame colored trunks. “You rang?”
“Did you get our stuff?” Cordelia waved him over.
“Got it,” Oz stuck a hand back in the room and brought out one communications headset, two lawn chairs, and two sawed-off shotguns.
“Is that all your taking?” Angel referred to the weapons.
Oz took off his sunglasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt, “Sunlight, not exactly a demon’s best friend.”
“So do we have everything?” Cordelia got close to Oz and put an arm around him, snagging his sunglasses. “Thanks. I knew I was forgetting something.” She put them on top of her head and grinned, “Okay, mandatory fashion check.” She walked around Oz once, making sure he was suitable to appear in public.
“Good?”
“Good,” Cordelia replied at long last. “And me?”
Oz’s eyes traveled down and then up her body. Angel felt a vague twinge of annoyance that Oz could be so unaffected by Cordelia’s touchable attributes. “Good.”
Instead of getting angry as Cordelia would have done in LA, she giggled and gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Glad you agree.” She linked arms with Oz and said to Angel, “Bye!” She sketched a few shapes in the air, and the two faded away.
The door opened again. Willow started, “Angel-”
Before she got the word out, Angel had her pinned back to the door, plundering her open mouth. Willow didn’t try to struggle; she grabbed onto his neck and pressed herself against him. She tasted sweet, like cotton candy, and welcomed him with her lips.
Breaking the kiss, Angel greeted her, “Good afternoon.”
“Goo-ood afternoon to you,” Willow squeaked when slid his hands across the front of her shirt. “What’s all this for?”
“Because I want to,” Angel tilted his head and kissed down her jaw line.
Willow held his head on her neck, “Don’t we have to get to class?”
Angel stopped himself, drawing back from her. Had he really . . .yes, he’d really been plotting to take her in the middle of the hallway. Sex had been on the top of his brain since the minute Cordelia had stepped out of the room in Willow’s naughty bikini. “Good point.”
“I thought so too,” Willow straightened out her clothes and strode past him down the hall. Angel’s mind reeled at her change of action. Was she able to switch gears that quickly? Did she just not care about him?
A half second later, she ran back to him and pressed an impulsive kiss on his cheek. Joy suffused Angel. He was a pretty lucky guy.
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“I’m telling you, they haven’t done it yet,” Cordelia watched the tide from her sitting position. They were the only people on the beach.
“Who?” Oz asked from his knees as he applied sunscreen to her back.
“Angel and Willow,” Cordelia stretched slightly, enjoying his warm hands. “In case you were worried, Angel hasn’t gotten any.”
Oz concentrated on her back, adding more sunblock to her shoulder blades, “How do you know?”
Cordelia fiddled with the bandage on her left hand. “It was all on Angel’s face. He had this whole hunger vibe, like he was ready to go down on the nearest girl. His face was all sharp and starving,” she shifted under Oz’s nimble fingers, running over the tense muscles in her neck. “That feels good.” She savored the touch for a second before continuing, “It was primal; the craving he had made him almost out of control.”
Carefully clearing his face of his own unwhetted hunger, Oz focused on anything else, “Almost done.”
“Sorry if I upset you,” Cordelia apologized, feeling the slight change in his sense and hearing it in his voice. “I know that the stuff between you and Willow is still kinda fresh.”
“It’s been six months,” he explained the massage outward to the muscles below her arms. “Things change.”
“I guess they do,” Cordelia moaned in relief, her tight muscles relaxing under his ministrations. “Where did you learn to do this, and can I keep you?”
“I do play the guitar. Works out my hands.” The said hands moved forward farther.
“Lucky Willow,” Cordelia breathed and went on, “So you were in that werewolf town?” Her next words were stopped with a groan, “Oh, do that again.”
Oz blinked and saw where his fingers had wandered. Another inch or two and he’d be rubbing two parts of her he was not supposed to be touching. “Done.” He pulled his hands away from her before he allowed himself the temptation. Moving to sit beside her, he took her left hand and began to untwist the bandage. “I liked the neighborhood.”
“Why are you taking that off?” Cordelia protested.
He ran one finger over the red scar on her palm, “You ever going to tell Angel?”
“No,” Cordelia said shortly.
“Why not?”
“I don’t need his pity. Yours is bad enough,” she turned away to get the sunscreen.
Oz gripped her wrist, making her face him. “It’s not pity.” They both hesitated, eyes holding. “I’m your friend.”
A few seconds passed, and Cordelia eventually tugged her hand away and picked up the previous conversation, “So, you meet any werewolf girls?”
“No, why?” Oz asked as she settled on her heels behind him.
“Then what made you like it so much?” Cordelia rubbed sunscreen over his shoulders and upper back.
“The place shut down for three days each month,” Oz flexed his shoulders once. “It was nice.”
Feeling the strong muscles moving under her fingertips, Cordelia opted to work lower on his vertebrae. “How did they keep the peace for those three days?”
“Everyone had their own set of chains,” Oz replied with a shrug.
“Sounds . . .” *Kinky.* Cordelia moved for a safer word, “fun.” *In a bondage game sort of way. “Anything not fun?”
“On the fourth day, everyone had to talk about the experience,” he said. “I wasn’t into that.”
“Yeah, you were such a big talker in high school. I could never get you to shut up. That Daniel Osborn, always running his mouth,” Cordelia snapped the top back on the lotion, “All done.”
He chose not to comment on how quickly she had finished. “Did you like LA?”
She paused from putting the straw hat on, “It was a blast.”
“For example?” Oz set up the two chairs.
“Ummm. I’ll give you my best and worst moment.” Cordelia picked on of the chairs. “Best moment?” she smiled, “Kissing Doyle. Definitely kissing Doyle. Worst moment?” Her smile turned bittersweet, “Also kissing Doyle.”
Fighting back tears, Cordelia shook her head and composed herself, “Though waking up eight and a half months pregnant with a litter of demon babies is a close second.”
“Pregnant?”
“Pregnant. Don’t ask.” She put on her had and untied the straps from around her neck and tucked them in securely behind her back.
Finally asking something he’d had on his mind, Oz said, “Why did you take me here?”
“Well, I would have taken Harmony, but something about her being, I don’t know, a vampire stopped me. Same for Angel. Willow, I live with her. Wesley doesn’t deserve to go since all my wardrobe problems are his fault. And, like you said, we’re friends, and as my friend, you get to share in my day off.” Cordelia checked her watch and adjusted her hat. “If I fall asleep, wake me up in a half hour so I turn over.”
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Spike gathered his strength and placed his hand on Faith’s face, his thumb on her chin, and his fingers on her forehead.
Light flashed in his head and he stumbled under the powerful onslaught of emotion that poured into him. The images washed over him faster than he could possibly understand them, pushing him off balance.
Before he fell, Spike was knocked out of physical contact with the prone Slayer.
Supporting him with one arm, Xander guided Spike to a nearby chair. Spike looked at him gratefully, his color gray for the second time in one day. Xander noticed it, “What happened?”
“Captain, we have a serious problem with the dilitium crystals. I don’t know if we can make it to warp speed,” Spike reported, examining the Slayer warily.
“I saw. Your little mindmeld made me worry I’d have to use the Vulcan nerve pinch to get you away.”
“Spock never had to read a Slayer.”
“I’m afraid all of that went over my head,” Giles said, “But what is the problem?”
“Our problem, Rupes, is that the girl is bonafide, one hundred percent, damaged goods.” Spike tried to sort out what he had sensed, “I’m telling you; she has stuff in there that will need years of psychotherapy.”
“Like?” Giles asked.
“Rage. Serious murderous rage. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say the homicidal and suicidal impulses are not in the plus column either.”
“Can you fix her?” Xander look at the Faith, so innocent in sleep. “Can you do what you did to Jheira and her group?”
“That was easy compared to this. That was one simple shield. This-” he pointed to Faith, “has problems to the core. She, in addition to the killing thing, has some inner demons.” Spike remembered one of the images he had seen burned into her psyche, “Behind all that I keep seeing this man.”
“Anyone we know?” Giles waited expectantly.
“No one I know. You might. If it’s any help, he’s wearing a gray suit.”
“Yes, that narrows it down immensely,” Giles said dryly.
“There’s a huge amount of junk cluttering everything up in there,” Spike went on. “Something probably sets her off.” Xander faced him with an odd expression that Spike understood too easily. “No, I won’t do it. I go too deep, and she can snap me like a twig.”
“Can you go back in there and figure out what starts her off?” Xander held Faith’s unresponsive hand hopefully. “Please?”
Spike stuck out his chin stubbornly, but gave in. “Oh, alright, but you’d better strap me to a gurney. And if I get into trouble, I pick you to explain to my Slayer why I’ve become a slobbering egg plant.”
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“Today, the Hannibal and Vader fighting have been combined into one long class,” Angel informed the new recruits. “Many of the techniques are very similar. Harmony?”
She stood next to him. His arm shot out to her throat, and he lifted her off the floor to the wall. Harmony’s eyes bulged; they had never practiced this particular demonstration.
“What should she do? I’m bigger and stronger than her,” Angel asked them.
The half-Lister girl replied, “Use your position against you.”
Angel was pleased by her response, “Very goo-”
Relying on him to keep her up, Harmony slammed one foot directly into his balls. Angel bent over in pain, letting her go. Harmony followed up her kick with a forceful elbow to the back of his head.
His vision filled with stars, and then darkness.
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The three children were standing by the tree.
“Where’s Anne?” Liam started the conversation.
Delia was holding Ang’lus’s hand, “Dunno.”
“She’s someplace else,” Ang’lus hugged Delia. “You need her for somethin’?”
“I ain’t looking for her,” Liam frowned, “I wanted to talk to her before I go.”
“Where you going?” Delia glanced toward the road and back to the playground.
“With the lions,” Liam answered. He moved toward the tree.
A hand pulled him back, “You think you is going alone?” Ang’lus growled at him.
“Not safe, Liam. You could get hurted,” Delia pronounced.
“I gotta go,” Liam set his hand on the trunk and called out as he disappeared, “Gonna see the Empress.”
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She looked down at Xander’s wide eyes. Her hair hanged down over him in a dark curtain.
Strange as it was to believe, she had just deflowered a member of the Scooby Gang. She had checked him out a few times, sure, but he had been involved with Cordelia and Willow. Tonight, though, he’d helped her against those demons. So in return, she helped him with a different problem.
He seemed so vulnerable now, hoping for her approval. She smiled at him with practically uncharacteristic tenderness. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.
“He didn’t really want you,” A voice startled her. She turned her head to look directly at Him, standing in the corner of her room. “He’s in love with Buffy. Even now, he’s thinking of how much he prefers Buffy. He loved her first, and he always will. Buffy is better than you.”
White hot anger filled her, and she rolled off Xander, “I need to shower.”
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Angel crouched before her as she struggled with her chains. “But you're not a god. You’re not much more than a child. Going down this path will ruin you. You can’t imagine the price for true evil.
“Yeah? I hope evil takes MasterCard,” she challenged. Whatever he was selling, she wasn’t buying. Did he honestly care what happened to her?
He smiled and straightened up, “You and me, Faith, we’re a lot alike. Time was, I thought humans existed just to hurt each other.” He sat down by her. “But then I came here. And I found out that there are other types of people. People who genuinely wanted to do right. And they make mistakes. And they fall down. You know, but they keep caring. Keep trying. If you can trust us, Faith, this can all change. You don't have to disappear into the darkness.”
“The vampire’s pulling your chain. He’s doing this for his precious Buffy, not for you. He may let you die. In fact, he will.” The shadow broke in, watching them from by the door. The door burst open, and He laughed as the watchers came for her.
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The bright light woke Cordelia. That wasn’t right. She distinctly remembered falling asleep in the shade . . . of her hat.
Glancing from side to side, Cordelia leapt off her chair when she saw who was beside her. Then she folded her arms over her chest and sternly addressed the thief, “Hey, that’s my hat.”
The wolf cocked his head at her, the hat grasped firmly in his teeth. He appeared rather odd, for a wolf, since he was wearing a pair of swim trunks and a black T-shirt.
“Oz-wolf, give me my hat back,” Cordelia took a few steps toward him.
He shook the hat vigorously as if to say, ‘Haha. I have your hat. Try to take it from me.’ When she got closer, he bolted for the water.
“Oh, no you don’t, Oz-wolf!” Cordelia chased after him. The wolf had made it all the way into knee deep water when he hit an invisible barrier.
Cordelia advanced on him, one hand raised to keep the telekinetic wall up. “Okay, I’ll make this fair. You give me my hat back, and you get a Scooby snack.” He didn’t move as she got within two feet of him.
Aware that he couldn’t run from her, Cordelia extended her hand, “Hat, now.” She was distracted briefly by a wave sweeping by her legs. Therefore, she was unprepared for the 160 pounds of wolf tackling her and knocking her backward into deeper water.
She surfaced, the water up to her waist, sputtering, “You!”
He dog-paddled by her, the hat gone, and slapped one paw in the water. Cordelia squealed and retaliated with a splash of her own. War being officially declared, they started hurling water at each other in earnest. Both sides were pretty evenly matched because he was limited by the fact that he had to swim and because she had much smaller hands and less strength.
A large wave suddenly came up and bowled them over. Cordelia resurfaced first, noticed a problem, and quickly ducked back down into the water. Keeping her head above the water, she scanned around, “Oz. I need you.”
His human head popped up right next to her, “You okay?”
“I’m fine, but it seems that the top of Willow’s suit has decided to join my hat at the bottom of the Pacific.” She hadn’t tied the top set of strings back around her neck when she’d woke, and the suit had said sayonara on that last wave.
Oz actually blushed, “I’ll go get you something.” He ran back to their stuff and brought back her mesh skirt. “This could work if I fold it.”
Also beet red, Cordelia watched him overlap it on his arm a few times. “I don’t think I can put that one without help,” Cordelia said hesitantly, “Why don’t-”
“I stand behind you and tie it?” Oz finished, already moving around her back.
Standing carefully, she held the cloth over her chest. Oz knotted it tightly.
“How does it feel?” Oz questioned.
“Secure. How does it look?” She faced him.
At that point, Oz concluded that she needed something else. Because she was so wet and because the material was so thin, it left nothing to imagination. Suppressing the urge to step way past the bounds of friendship, Oz said though clenched teeth, “Here, take my T-shirt.” He stripped it off and handed it to her.
“That bad?” Cordelia pulled it over her head. She reached back and tried to untie the skirt. “I can’t get this.”
Oz stuck his hands under the T-shirt and felt his way along her ribs to her back. As he worked the knot out, Cordelia stared down at the intense concentration he was exhibiting. His arms, in the almost embrace, were comfortable, and she wondered what she would do if she sucked on the side of his neck . . .
Finally getting the skirt off her, Oz decided that giving her his shirt had not improved his situation. Instead of being see-through as the mesh had been, his T-shirt had opted to mold itself to the contours of her body, which served only to make it harder for him.
“Thanks for the shirt,” Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest, relieving some of his torment.
“No problem,” Oz gave her back her skirt.
She took it, “I guess the sun tanning is over. Unless I want to do the topless thing.” She added quickly, “And I don’t.”
“So we’re heading back to the mansion?”
“Or we could hunt for the hat,” Cordelia looped the skirt around her neck, “I liked that hat.”
“It’s long gone,” Oz told her.
“In that case,” Cordelia tensed noticeably. A giant globe of water floated in the air and dropped on his head, drenching him again. He splashed her back, and the truce was over.
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The Watchers were waiting for her in the library.
“I staked six vampires today!” Faith announced proudly.
“Very good,” Wesley remarked, recording it on his clipboard, “But Buffy staked fifteen.”
Giles shot him an annoyed look, “You’re being too harsh. She is working hard. Once she has more experience, I’m quite sure she will be almost equal to Buffy.”
Disgusted, Faith spun around and headed toward the door. She crashed directly into Willow, scattering books in all directions.
“Sorry, Willow,” Faith tried to collect the books.
Willow shouldered her aside, “I can get it. If you’d been Buffy, you’d have never done this. I hate you.”
As she recoiled back at the sting in Willow’s words, Faith saw Oz. He was wordlessly gathering Willow’s books. Though he had to be aware of the unfairness in his girlfriend’s words, he didn’t say anything. He was silent.
“They hate you, all of them. Buffy is better than you,” He said from the door. “You can disappear, and they won’t care as long as they have Buffy.”
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“Why didn’t he listen to me?” Buffy set a calendar in one of the boxes she and Pike had been using to remove personal items.
“Spike?” Pike held up a framed picture of Buffy and Joyce.
She nodded for the spoken and unspoken questions, “I warned him about Faith, and he didn’t listen. I felt him get his ass kicked the first time, and now he went back in for another try.”
“Maybe he had to,” Pike suggested, checking the living room for more items.
“She’s dangerous. And she enjoys trying to kill my vampire boyfriends, which might be a problem for my current one.” She picked up a box, “Next room.”
They climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Pike commented in surprise, “I never thought you’d live somewhere so . . .”
“Empty?” Buffy set the box on her stripped bed and said, “That’s what happens when you move in with your undead boyfriend. You get to bring everything since he has only one outfit. No one fights me for closet space.” She sat down on the bed, “I can’t believe him. He knows she hates me, and therefore, would be very willing to kill me. Does he think I need to be protected from her? Is that what he’s trying to do?”
“So, nothing in this room?” Pike grabbed the box and hurried back down the stairs.
“I’m the Slayer. I don’t need his protection. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Nobody needs to waste energy protecting me.” With no particular destination in mind, Buffy opened the door to the basement. “If anything, I need the cold hard truth. It’s a harsh reality, but I have to face it. There’s no room to protect me from something because it might upset me.”
Pike followed her to the basement, but couldn’t follow her logic, “Buff, does this have anything to do with Faith or did something else happen?”
“Are you reading my thoughts?” she asked.
“Sorry, only Loverboy has that gift,” Pike tried to soothe the anger he saw rise in her face.
“No kidding. That’s the problem. All I have is him. He gets to hear everyone 24/7, but I’m off on my own. He spends all his time worrying about whether or not I feel alone.” She stalked over to a pile of junk and rummaged through it. “Has it ever occurred to him that he could just let me listen to the others? In the past month and a half, I’ve listened in once, today. It’s okay that I share him with the entire fricking Tarot, but he’s gotta protect me by not sharing me? Am I being unreasonable?”
“Well-”
“Isn’t it reasonable to expect your significant other to let you in on the web he’s currently controlling?”
“Umm, Buffy. When he let you in, it felt like the web was collapsing. I was shaving, and I almost fell on my razor.” Pike opened a box labeled ‘stuff.’
“Sorry about that, and I don’t think we’ll be trying it again soon. Still, we could have tried it in the very beginning and found out then, instead of now.” Her tone had a new note of sadness, “I wouldn’t have felt so bad with Gene if I’d heard him at least once.”
Pike placed a hand on her shoulder, the other holding the ‘stuff’ box. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead. Just like Kendra. Just like Merrick,” Buffy spat out ruefully.
“All of them picked their deaths. They died fighting, each and every one of them,” Pike reminded her.
“They’re still dead. I could have saved them all, but they’re just dead. And I’m supposed to be okay with that?” she shook off his hand.
“If you honor what they fight for, then yes,” Pike intoned heavily.
“Thanks, Yoda,” Buffy smirked.
“It’s in the past. You can’t do anything about it now. You can hate it. You can be mad at Spike for it. You can be pissed off forever. Or you can do respect their memory.” Pike gave her something he had found in the box.
A tear formed in Buffy’s eye, and on its heels was a blinding smile, “Thanks, Pike.”
She held her old Hemery High pom-poms.
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Faith brought the box in and presented it to her boss.
“Hey ho! There it is! Hahahaha! Ah, what happened to the courier? I was supposed to pay him.” The Mayor said. “Made him an offer he couldn't survive,” she took the money. She loved how her boss always wanted to see her, especially after she did him such a service. The Mayor complimented her amid his laughter, “You are one heck of a girl, you know that? I mean, geez, the initiative, the - the skill.”
“Go on, go on,” Faith took a seat, encouraging him. It was a thousand times better to spend her time with him, instead of hanging around a stupid library with a bunch of Watchers. The Mayor actually appreciated her.
“I will. You know, I’ll tell you, if Buffy-” Annoyed with the turn of the conversation, Faith set her feet on the top of his desk. He called her on it, “Hey, hey, hey, hey.” She put them back down, “If Buffy Summers walked in here and said she wanted to switch to our side, I’d say, ‘no thanks, sister, I’ve got all the Slayer one man could ever need.’”
“That’s because he couldn’t afford her,” Faith’s tormentor said from the back of the office. “Buffy’s price was too high, but you were cheap. You’ll always be cheap and easy.”
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Faith limped into her apartment. She had gotten her head handed to her, and she was bleeding all over. It felt a lot like she had taken a tumble off a roof.
The whole Scooby Gang was there, including Angel and the Watchers. They stood in front of her, arms folded, judging her.
Willow was the first one to speak, “We know what you’ve been doing, and we’re here to stop you.”
“Oh, an intervention. Gotta love those,” Faith rested weakly against her wall.
“Personally, I don’t think you’re even worth the time,” Willow scoffed to Oz.
“Willow,” Xander cut her off. “Can’t you see she’s hurt? Don’t blame her. She can’t help that she’s not as good as Buffy.”
“Buffy would have never allowed herself to get into such a state,” Wesley said primly.
“Frankly, she is simply not Slaying material,” Giles explained. “Buffy is exceptional.”
Cordelia fluffed her hair, “Buffy’s hair is so much better.”
“And you guys think this is gonna help me?” Faith said in disbelief.
“Honestly, Faith,” Angel stepped forward. “We’ve decided that you are too dangerous to be alive. We’re going to have to kill you and hope the next Slayer is closer to Buffy’s equal.”
Faith wrenched her own beautiful knife out of her gut. Blood spurted from the wound, spraying Angel’s face. “I am Buffy’s equal! Who do you think did this to me?!”
She cut off Angel’s head with a single smooth slash. “That’s for loving her!? Faith jumped on Xander and split him chest to crotch. “For wanting her!”
The Watchers got it next, both of them stabbed directly in the brain, “For judging me!” She slit Cordelia’s throat, an action that shot blood all over Faith. “For not caring!”
Faith slapped Willow and heard the witch’s bones break under her hand. She kicked the legs out from under Willow and raised the knife.
Something crashed into her side. It was Oz, leaping to his girlfriend’s defense. Carelessly, she flung him to a nearby wall and pitched her knife into his heart.
As Willow tried to crawl toward the door, Faith walked calmly through the carnage to the wall where Oz was dying. She pulled the knife out, “For doing nothing.”
Seeing the redhead struggle, Faith skipped over to her. “I made it quick for them, but you won’t be so lucky. I’m going to take my time.” Faith jammed her heel into Willow’s ribs. “You always hated me, didn’t you? I stole your best friend. I had the one thing you couldn’t share with her. I was a Slayer, something you were never going to be, no matter how much you kissed the Watcher’s ass.” She stomped on Willow’s hand, the crunch of shattered metacarpals music to her ears. “That made me closer to her than you. Honestly, I’d hate me too, if I were as pathetic as you.”
Faith held the knife high, “That’s not going to keep me from killing you, but I thought you should know I’m a thousand times better than Buffy. You should have tried to be my best friend, not hers.”
Willow morphed into Him. They were in the alley again. There was blood staining His gray suit, right over the heart. Red bubbled from His lips, and Deputy Mayor Allan Finch choked, “You’ll never be better than Buffy.”
She stared in shock at the bloody stake in her hand. Someone tapped her on the shoulder.
Buffy. In leather. Holding Faith’s knife.
“It was an accident!” Faith cried out, dropping the stake.
“Too late,” Buffy shoved the knife back into the wound in Faith’s stomach. She pulled the other Slayer close, “Do everyone a favor and just die.” Buffy twisted the knife.
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Spike jerked his hand away from Faith and gasped, “I think I found the root of the problem.”
“Can we fix it?” Xander ran up to Spike’s gurney and began to untie the restraints.
“I can,” Spike glanced at the stone-faced Watcher. “But I don’t know if I should.”
Part II
Angel saw a face hovering over him. *Buffy?* It focused some. It wasn’t Buffy. *Cordelia?*
He was able to see a pair of green eyes, and Angel croaked, “Willow?”
“Good guess,” Willow clapped her hands. “You recognized me.”
“What happened? Where am I?”
“Your room,” Willow giggled. “Believe it or not, Harmony beat you up.”
He waved a hand in front of his eyes, “I’m back in Hell, aren’t I?”
“Unless Hell has all of Oz’s stuff in the dresser, you’re still in your room. Dr. Goldenvich checked you out and said you were exhausted and needed to eat something.” She handed him a cup of blood. “So, like a good girlfriend, I went down to the cafeteria and picked up your favorite food.”
“It’s my only food,” Angel thought back on her words. “My girlfriend?”
Her face clouded, “I am, aren’t I? We’ve been seeing each other one and off for a month. I thought that equaled a more than friends status. I could be wrong. Am I moving to fast? Because I can slow down if you want me to.”
“It’s fine. The girlfriend part,” Angel took the cup and drank it, finishing it off with a satisfied ‘ahh’. “My favorite, essence of pig.” He set the cup on his nightstand and grabbed Willow’s arms.
While Angel pulled her until she straddled him, Willow protested, “Angel, we need to-”
“Hmmm?” Angel rolled up her tight black shirt and unfastened her strapless bra, throwing it across the room.
“Angel,” Willow gasped breathlessly, his teeth and tongue driving her wild. Her hands reached down, tangling in his dark button-down shirt.
“Yes?” Angle switched sides and stuck a hand down the front of her pants. Her skin was like fire; she was so warm and willing, ready for him to take her, now. She shrieked in the depths of her throat, tearing at his shirt. That sent Angel over the edge, her cry, all for him. He wanted her on her back screaming his name.
As he fought with his belt, Angel stopped. He distinctly heard a click from the door. Someone was coming in. Angel pulled his hands and mouth away from Willow and shoved her top back down.
The door opened, and his roommate, Oz, entered. Willow took one look at him and scrambled off Angel. Her soaked ex-boyfriend seemed to have lost his shirt somewhere.
“Hi, guys,” he greeted them calmly, his face not revealing anything. He dropped some beach stuff on his bed.
“H-hi, Oz,” Willow tried to be casual.
A wet Cordelia came in the room right after Oz. Both Willow and Angel gaped at her, surprised by the same thing, but had much different reactions. Angel stared at her in Oz’s T-shirt, coming to the conclusion that he liked the wet T-shirt almost as much as he had liked the string bikini. It was much too tight over her chest, straining to hold her charms in. At that, he also came to the conclusion that the source of such thoughts was what he had been doing, something he’d like to get back to if Cordelia and Oz could leave in the next five seconds.
*Cordelia and Oz?* Willow’s mind was screaming. Had those two been doing it? Ugly jealousy reared its head, and Willow tried to tell herself that the T-shirt meant nothing. Oz probably was lending it to her since she was clearly not wearing the top of the bikini. Maybe that was because Oz had taken if off of her . . .
“Willow, I’m so sorry,” Cordelia apologized profusely. “I can explain about the bikini.”
“You don’t have to,” Willow stayed firm.
“I was playing in the water and didn’t see the wave. Oz lent me his shirt,” Cordelia proceeded with her story, “I promise, as soon as this apocalypse thing is over, I will go to the mall and buy you a new suit. A new hat too.”
Willow scanned the two, and even though it was hard to get a good read on Oz, she couldn’t detect a falsehood in those words. Relief washed over her. “Don’t worry.”
Cordelia cocked one eyebrow at them, “Why aren’t you at the meeting?”
“What meeting?” Angel asked as Oz got a clean shirt from his dresser.
“The one we were called back for,” Oz put on shoes and socks. “I’m going.”
“I’ll see you there,” Cordelia said. Oz gave her bandaged hand a quick squeeze and walked out. “You know what? I’ll be in my room, changing. Now. Willow, when you can: come see me.” She ran out the door.
Angel yanked Willow back to him as the door shut. Kissing her fiercely, he maneuvered her onto the mattress beneath him and positioned himself between her legs. All thinking stopped for them as they lost themselves in the touch and taste.
When his hands on her body got too intense, Willow pushed him away, using magic to pin him on the opposite wall. He flailed against her invisible bounds with no avail. “We have to go to the meeting.” She took a step up on nothing so she was eye to eye with him. The witch leaned forward and fastened her mouth to one of the silent pulse points on Angel’s neck. He moaned, and she licked his jaw mischievously and tweaked his flat nipples before stepping back on the ground. “I’ll see you later.”
When she left, the force holding Angel disappeared. He slumped to the floor, almost paralyzed with unfulfilled lust. If he wasn’t careful, this was going to kill him.
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Willow was just out the door before she fell heavily against the wall. That was almost out of hand. It had taken everything she had to resist him. And then she’d gone after him and licked him. She thought he was going to die of want right there. The whole thing with her keeping him motionless, as if she could do whatever she wanted with him was so . . . naughty.
“Wow. I, Willow Rosenberg, am a bad girl. I am very, very bad,” Willow said out loud in complete astonishment.
Then she remembered that she wasn’t wearing her bra anymore. She was acutely aware of her lack and felt rather insecure about it. Maybe she wasn’t ready for the whole bad girl thing yet after all.
Willow rushed to her room and found a dry and dressed Cordelia waiting for her. “Hi, Willow,” Cordelia winked, “How was that good-bye kiss?”
“Were you listening?” Willow sputtered, referring to Cordelia using the web to eavesdrop.
“Not really, but it was a little loud.” She tossed Oz’s shirt on her bed. “Had I paid more attention earlier, I wouldn’t have let Oz go in the room.”
Remorse hit Willow. How could she be mad at Oz for his non-existent relationship with Cordelia when she and Angel were in a serious physical relationship? And poor Oz had almost walked in on them. “Do you think he knew?”
“That you and Angel were a half step from chancing the soul-losing thing?” Cordelia shrugged, though there was a sharpness in her voice. “In addition to the whole heightened sense of smell werewolves have, as I wanted to tell you, your bra was on his bed. I don’t think Oz could have missed it.”
“Oh, no. I never wanted Oz to see that,” Willow hid her face in her hands.
“Like we can talk. I mean, I know what we looked like. I had his T-shirt on and didn’t have the other half of a bikini. Thought you would never ever think of it, it’s possible that an innocent bystander would believe we had crazy, naked, dirty sex on the beach,” Cordelia tried to be comforting.
It didn’t help because that was exactly what Willow had been thinking at first.
Cordelia kept going, “Now we both know that Oz and I are not a couple. Strictly a seer and her friendly neighborhood werewolf.”
Composing herself, Willow realized what Cordelia had said earlier, “Did you say ‘soul-losing?’”
“Yeah, I did,” Cordelia confirmed readily.
“Do you mean that I could make Angel’s soul-”
“Disappear? Bring back Angelus? Right on,” Cordelia took a bra out of Willow’s dresser and gave it to her. “Have you met Rebecca Lowell? She brought Angelus back once.”
“She did? But I thought he hadn’t been with anyone since Buffy,” Willow was instantly angry that he hadn’t told her about Rebecca.
“He didn’t sleep with her. There’s been no one in the past century except Buffy. Rebecca drugged him with this ‘happy pill.’ Angelus showed up and chased us around for awhile, but we made it,” Cordelia assured her of the obvious. “This makes me kinda leery about Angel’s soul. It doesn’t seem to be tied on that well, no offense.” Cordelia turned her back so Willow could dress.
“None taken. So you think that I could bring Angelus back?” Willow put on her bra and fixed her clothes, alarmed that Cordelia was so scared. “I’m done. Maybe we should slow things down.”
Cordelia turned back around, “I didn’t mean that. I know you’ve been thinking about sex with Angel. We can’t be sure about much. The web may keep his soul, and even if it comes off, he might not even be able to hurt you. Plus, it’s nothing for the mages to put it back on. I only want you to be prepared for the possible consequences of boinking my boss.”
“I see,” Willow could tell Cordelia was sincere about her concern.
“On the good side, if you wake up with Angelus, your morning after will still be better than my last one. Second worst moment of my life, those eight demon babies,” Cordelia shared brightly.
“Huh?” Willow had no idea where that came from.
“Never mind. We’re gonna be late.”
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Thirteen people had assembled in the semi-private confines of Curtain Two in the medlab. Scattered around in various positions about Faith’s bed, it was a close group with some distinct divisions. Buffy and Spike were close to each other as usual, but Willow was sitting on Buffy’s other side. Anya was with Xander who had Forrest next to him. Confused that Willow was not with him, Angel sat by Oz, Cordelia, and Wesley. On the fringe though, Kate Lockley was holding hands with Giles, who was talking quietly to a much-aged Sam Zabuto.
“I suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here,” Xander stood up.
“If you accuse one of us of murder,” Buffy warned, “I’m leaving.”
“In that case, I’ll let your boyfriend explain how we can help Faith.”
“Well,” Spike ignored Buffy’s glare. “Faith has a few serious problems, mental ones at that. They’re based on Buffy and a Deputy Mayor.”
“Whom she killed,” Willow pointed out quickly.
“That is part of the problem. He seems to haunt her, and combined with her insecurities about Buffy, either of the two send her into homicidal frenzies,” Spike sighed.
“That sounds promising,” Anya stated.
“There is a chance to bring her back, which I have discussed with Spike,” Giles got their attention, “It is possible to remove those tendencies from her, but it would require erasing certain parts of her memories. This would remove her frustrations and guilt.”
“No!” Buffy protested. “She killed a man, more than one. You’re just going to free her from that?”
“Every time she remembers, she goes crazy,” Xander took over again. “I brought all of you here because you should at least get a chance to say how you felt.”
“I’ll go first,” Willow lifted her chin. “Faith kills people. She belongs in jail, and that’s all I have to say.”
“I can’t agree,” Angel spoke out. “Faith did some dark things, but who among us hasn’t? She made mistakes and regrets them.”
“She didn’t seem regretful when she held me at knifepoint or shot you with a poisoned arrow,” Willow replied hotly. “She’s evil, and that’s it.”
“That’s never it.”
“Okay, next volunteer,” Xander said quickly.
“I agree with Angel. We can reform almost anyone,” Anya perked up.
“Very reassuring,” Cordelia commented. “I didn’t get to spend much time with the Evil Faith so we should do whatever is best for the web.”
“Any words from the Watchers’ Council? We practically have a quorum,” Xander mentioned. “How would they handle it?”
“Well, the Council is rather fickle in this type of matter,” Wesley started awkwardly.
“They’d want to send another team to take her back to England and rehabilitate her,” Giles didn’t dance around the facts.
“You do not want them here,” Same Zabuto stood up. In the past 18 hours, he had aged years. “They would not understand the delicate situation here. Their agenda is not always clear or in the best interests of the participants. Who do you think wanted Kendra in Sunnydale? Not I.” He resumed his seat, shaking with emotion.
“So force is not an option,” Oz said.
“What about you, Slayer?” Spike asked his girlfriend.
“You guys want to make it so all the bad stuff never happened with her,” Buffy chose her words slowly. “Faith was good at her job, maybe even better than me, but if we free her without letting her learn from her past . . . what’s to keep her from going bad again?”
“The web and me,” Spike said shortly.
“She turned on us once; she could do it again. You think mind control is the answer?”
“Really, Slayer, if we can control demons, vampires, and werewolves, one more girl isn’t going to be a problem,” Spike discounted her objections.
“Don’t you dare dismiss me! You still think you’re God, you Evil-Bad-Guy.” Buffy fumed.
“Let’s not resort to name calling. Now you’re just being combative,” Spike pointed out.
“I am not – okay, maybe I am being a little combative,” Buffy reconsidered.
“A little? Displacing much,” Cordelia couldn’t resist.
Buffy didn’t even bother with replying to that one. “I still don’t think it would be a good idea to make Spike carry the whole burden of her sanity.”
“He won’t,” Forrest announced. “That’s what I’m here for. She’ll be my partner, and I’ll keep her one the straight and narrow.”
“So what will happen if we do this?” Angel looked over at Faith.
“Spike’ll block out most of the bad stuff, turn the clock back a long time,” Xander walked to Faith. “I can’t tell you how far, but it will be before the sisterhood of Jhe showed up, when I had to cool car.”
“That’s before you and her-” Willow started.
“I know when it is, but it has to be done,” Xander said wearily. “After spending a day here, she and Forrest will be on their own.” He stopped, “If we choose to do this.”
“Then why am I here?” Kate asked, letting go of Giles’s hand.
“Faith had a police record. If we set her lose, not only will she not remember committing the crimes, an arrest would put a kink in getting her into the Initiative.”
“So you want me to destroy her files.”
“As much as you can,” Xander verified.
“I won’t do it. It’s bad enough that your want to make this murderer guilt-free, but I tamper with the evidence, and she’ll never get punished,” Kate refused.
“Kate, it’s the lesser of two evils,” Giles put his arm around her, much to the amazement of the rest of the room. “I’m sure if you misplace the evidence for a few months, we can replace her memories after this ends.” He glanced at Spike, “We can, can’t we?”
“It will be a bit of a bother, but yes, I can,” Spike assured them.
“Fine,” Kate relaxed, but kept a threatening note in her tone, “When this is over, I’ll take her and the Initiative down.”
“What?” Forrest hadn’t expected that.
“Long story. I’ll explain later,” Xander jumped in before another fight could start. “I think we should go ahead and do it. It’s gotta be worth the price.”
“You’re taking a big risk here,” Buffy reminded him. “It could backfire.”
“A calculated risk,” Xander’s eyes glittered. “Leaders have to make choices like this all the time. If it works, we’ll have two top agents in the Hannibals.”
“And if it fails, we get to witness an atomic reaction at ground zero,” Willow bit out. “Do you need me here?”
“No,” Spike said. “Everyone needs to leave except Forrest, Cordelia, and Anya.”
“I’m staying,” Xander insisted as almost everyone else left.
“You’re not. If I’m going in there, I need the most objective people with me. You’re not it,” Spike frowned at the boy.
“I want to help,” Xander didn’t budge.
“You want to help? Then go talk to our Teen Witch. I don’t think the Poof is doing a good job. Same goes for you.”
Buffy stuck to her guns while Xander went up the stairs, “Don’t even try to make me leave. I’m going to stay right here and make sure you come out of this with everything in the right places.”
“Luv, there’s no one else I’d rather have with me.”
“But?” Buffy waited expectantly.
“But I’m doing brain surgery, and you’re a big distraction.”
“A distraction? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He caressed her face with his palm. “If I can spend hours on end watching you sleep, imagine how hard it would be for me to be in the same room as you and not be able to touch you.”
“Imagine how hard it is for me to leave you with someone I don’t trust as far as I can throw her.”
“You can throw pretty far,” Spike kissed her cheek. “We’ll be okay, even if you argue too much.”
“I argue too much? You know you love it. Couples who can’t argue for fun are boring.”
“And there I was hoping to be boring,” Spike smiled.
“Shut up and kiss me already.”
Forrest couldn’t believe the palpable tenderness between Hostile 17 and the Slayer. He shook his head in wonder. “No wonder Riley’s so sore. He never stood a chance.”
“And the fact that he’s Blighted,” Cordelia prompted him and breathed, “God they make me so jealous.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mayor Wilkins picked up the little snake and said, “Hey there, little fella. Heh. I don’t know where you belong, but it’s not here with us. There you go. You see? There’s nothing that’s gonna spoil our time together. Who wants cheesecake?” He laughed merrily at the picnic he was sharing with Faith. Her heart swelled; he was the only person in the world who cared for her.
“NO!” Faith shouted as Buffy appeared behind him with the knife.
Buffy raised the knife to strike, and a voice yelled, “Stop.”
The scene froze, with Buffy in mid-swing.
A young blonde man walked between Buffy and the Mayor. He looked at Faith gravely, “You know that’s not the real Buffy.” He took the knife and tossed it on the cloth by Faith.
“Yes it is. She wants to destroy me,” Faith pointed to her bloody stomach as proof.
“No, she wants to fight evil, same as you,” The man gestured once, and Buffy faded away. “The real problem isn’t Buffy.” He poked the Mayor with a finger, “It’s him.”
“It is not! He’s the only one who gives a damn about me!”
“Come on, girl. Do you think he gave a rat’s ass about what happened to you? He was helping you out of what? The evilness of his heart? He had a problem in his town, two Slayers to be exact. How better to solve the problem than to turn them against each other?”
“That’s not true!” Faith jumped up. “He wouldn’t do that to me. He liked me.”
“You think he didn’t know the only cure for that poison you hit Angel with? It was a setup.”
“But he bought me a dress . . . for the Ascension.”
“Or for your funeral.” He took a cigarette from his trenchcoat’s pocket, lit it, and started smoking. “You got played. Don’t worry; he tried to arrange for my death too.”
“He did?” Faith regarded him carefully, “Who are you?”
The man flashed his game face at her, “No one to be trifled with.”
“You here to help me?”
“Something like that,” he flicked some ashes into the grass.
“So you’re like my vampire Fairy Godmother? You gotta name?”
“Not sharing, Faith, but you can ask me questions. I might even answer.”
“You’re a vampire. You think B’s all good?”
“Nobody’s all good. She sure as Hell isn’t a paragon of virtue.”
“Does that mean you don’t put her on a fucking pedestal like the rest of the world?” Faith put herh ands on her hips and mocked, “‘She’s so brave. So pretty. So powerful. So perfect. Are you having problems? Let me help you, Buffy.’”
“I’m not here to talk about Buffy. I’m here to talk about Faith,” He tilted his head. “You regret anything?”
“No.”
“The red stuff on your hands tells me otherwise.”
Faith looked down and saw the rust-colored stains of drying blood on her hands. It was flaking off in huge chunks to show even more underneath. “I have nothing to regret. I’m five by five.”
“Then why can’t you face Him?” The scene blurred, and they were back in that dark alley where the Deputy Mayor was dying in front of her.
“No,” Faith gasped.
“Hello,” Finch stood up.
“No, you’re dead. I . . . I killed you,” Faith stammered.
“Faith,” He whispered.
“I killed you!” Faith stabbed him in the chest with her knife.
He was standing right beside her. “Hello, Faith.”
“You’re dead!” She decapitated him.
Finch was on her left, “Faith.”
“Die!” Flinging herself at Him, she rained down blows on Him until His chest was an empty, oozing cavity.
A had gripped her shoulder; Faith spun around to see Finch again. “Hello, Faith.”
“Why don’t you die?” Faith dropped the knife.
“Because he can’t be killed. You kill him, and he’ll come back, every time,” The stranger told her, having been silent for the fight.
“Then how do I make him disappear?”
“You don’t. All you can do is walk away,” The man pointed in another direction. “He’ll always be here, but you don’t have to come here. He doesn’t need to control you, even if he never leaves.”
“That’s not fair. I want him gone,” she complained.
“Sorry, did the rules change? I didn’t know things were supposed to be fair. I was under the obviously misguided impression that all you could do was take what life threw at you and run with it. Nothing’s ever fair.”
“You wanna hear unfair? How about the fact that the Watcher’s Council cared so little about me that they sent me some prick called Wesley? Or knowing that Xander would rather sleep with Cordelia, Willow, and Buffy than me? What about killing someone by mistake and then having it hang over your head for the rest of your life?”
“Things are tough. Who the Hell cares? But here’s your chance. Turn and walk away. Don’t let the little Scooby Gang, the Watchers, Buffy, or this Finch character make your decisions. You make the choice. You want out? Then you gotta leave on your own. Last chance,” he told her.
Faith considered it for a long time, gazing at the Deputy Mayor before her. At last she nodded and moved toward the stranger. “I wanna leave.”
“Sure,” he handed her a playing card from his duster and took her elbow, leading her into toward the light.
“The Empress?” Faith exclaimed, reading the title on the Tarot card. “Hey, where are we going?”
“Does it matter?” The man asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed and followed him into the sun.
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