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A.Lite
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story
Buffy paced, trying to hear as much as she could from Spike. Their connection was by no means silent, but it was muted. Afraid to endanger him on what was delicate work, Buffy ignored her desire to deepen the contact.
To keep her mind off it, Buffy observed everyone else’s actions during the wait. Like Spike had predicted, Willow had needed to calm down, but Angel hadn’t been the one to provide the relief. It was Xander who had gotten her to go eat something. The two of them were on one of the lounge’s couches talking quietly. Angel, on the other hand, was glowering at them from the stairs, though Willow threw him an occasional angry glance.
Buffy almost considered going to Angel. Yet she couldn’t because all of the talking about Faith had brought up that old pain to the surface. The sorrow of loving Angel had faded in her, but she knew that the sorrow of loving her had not faded in him. Approaching him would be cruel.
The policewoman, Kate, stayed with Giles for a long time. Buffy wondered how she had missed that budding romance. Kate wasn’t in the Mansion very often, nor did she go on regular patrols. She also probably couldn’t form any lasting relationships with the members of the Sunnydale PD. Giles was a nice . . . relatively handsome (judging by her mother’s opinion) . . . older guy, and Kate seemed to be in her thirties. He was in his early fifties . . . While this subject wasn’t something Buffy tried to think about, ever, at least it wasn’t illegal.
Wesley, on the other hand, almost made Buffy laugh. Or choke. He and Tara were reading books together. Now that relationship scared her a little. Not only because it was barely legal, but the whole idea of Wesley finding someone weirded her out. They were both quiet and bookish, so she shouldn’t be too harsh on them. They had a lot in common, like . . . books . . . and other boring stuff. . .
Anya and Oz were down at Willy’s getting dinner. Their significant and ex-significant others were otherwise occupied. Still, Oz, Willow, and Angel were all giving off some type of strange vibe that confused Buffy. Something had happened. Angel and Willow were almost a couple, but Willow wasn’t seeking the company of either Oz or Angel. Had the three of them had an argument? When had they had time to argue if Oz had been out all day with Cordelia?
Speaking of Cordy, she poked her head out from the downstairs, “Ummm, guys-” Everyone focused on her. “You need to get down here. It’s time.”
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Dr. Goldenvich was drawing Faith’s blood as Spike addressed the group from his reclining position on another gurney. “All right, kids, here’s the deal: we’ve got Faith. And we’ve made her sane. To keep her that way, though, we need to make a few adjustments around here.”
“Such as?” Giles asked.
“For example, I cluttered up her head about dates. I’ve packed as many major events from the past two years into one year of her memory.”
“Won’t that be a little confusing? She’s gonna think it’s last year. How do we hide that?” Willow ventured.
“We’re telling her she was hit on the head during patrol to account for the partial memory loss,” Forrest volunteered.
“There are some new truths that most of her memory is fixed on. There was no Mayor. He did not Ascend. The high school was destroyed by a lizard demon the same night Mary Collins was killed. Stuff happened basically the same since then till now.” Spike cleared his throat and launched into the touchier subjects, “No deputy mayor, no killing. Oz and Angel never left Sunnydale, and Wesley and I never came to Sunnydale. We showed up this summer.”
“I object to that!” Wesley was indignant.
“Wes, she hates you so much that it’s better you mean nothing to her,” Spike told him.
“Wait a second. I want to be sure I’m reading this right,” Oz said. “If you never came to Sunnydale last year, and she still thinks this is last year-”
“Are you saying I didn’t break up with Xander?” Cordelia exclaimed.
“And that means-” Angel’s eyes fell on Willow.
“Everything is the same as it was last year. Everything!” Spike bit out angrily.
“No.” Buffy’s voice was hushed when she realized exactly what that entailed. Her hand gripped the chain hanging around her neck. “I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“What is she complaining about? I should be complaining. Cordelia thinks she’ll get my Xander,” Anya complained.
“Luv, it’s only for two days until she leaves,” Spike attempted to reassure his Slayer.
His Slayer wasn’t having any of it, “You can’t ask me to do this.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling us. You think I don’t know whom this is going to cause trouble for?”
“I still don’t understand what her problem is,” Anya reiterated.
Angel broke his silence, “Spike is saying that when Faith wakes up, as far as she knows, Willow is with Oz, Cordy is with Xander, and Buffy is with me.”
“Then where am I?” Anya was shocked.
“In Faith’s world, I don’t think you exist,” Angel answered rather unsympathetically.
“I don’t exist? That’s not fair!” The ex-demon protested.
“Join the club. I don’t exist either,” Spike checked the clock. “We need to get on this now since we’ll need the entire day and a half to brief her to leave with Forrest. This masquerade has to be perfect, no flaws. You got ten minutes to work things out to a point that you can shield any problems from Faith. Everybody take five minutes with your current snogging-partner, talk things out, and then take five minutes with your ex to do the same.”
“I don’t need my five minutes,” Buffy spun on her heel and ran up the stairs all the way up to the room she shared with Spike.
After she violently kicked the bed twice, she sat down and put her head in her hands.
Spike was being such a pig. Did he think making her fake-date Angel was fun?
*No,* the logical part of her mind insisted. *He hates it even more than you do. Nothing makes him unhappier than having to see you with Him.* Her touch with Spike through the web only confirmed it. He was miserable, but they had no other choice.
Buffy opened up the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She placed Spike’s ring on the chain inside the drawer and reached for something else buried in the very back corner.
The claddagh ring.
Forcing back the urge to sob, Buffy put the ring on, heart pointing inward.
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Cordy and Oz looked at each other awkwardly, the others having long since left them alone in the lounge.
“I don’t have anyone new,” Cordelia said plainly.
“Me neither,” Oz shrugged.
Silence.
“I don’t like this. Anya’s right. It’s not very fair. Why did they get to move on? I tried, and all I got was demon impregnated.”
More silence.
“I don’t care. Oz, let’s pretend we’re together so I can do the good-bye scene,” she decided.
“Ummmm . . .”
“Oh, Oz-” Cordelia held her arm theatrically over her forehead and proclaimed, “I cannot believe the God-like psychic vampire who brainwashed the psycho Slayer is forcing us to pretend to date our ex boyfriends and girlfriends.”
Oz gave her a slight smile, “Same here.”
“It gives me much pain and soul-tearing agony to be parted from you for the next two days,” she grasped his hands in hers.
“. . . I’ll miss you too,” Oz agreed, awkwardly.
“Though I am returning to the arms of the man I used to play wild and passionate tonsil hockey in the broom closet with, I’ll think of you every minute.” Cordelia threw her arms around his neck, “I’m scared. Hold me.”
Oz wrapped his arms around her waist.
“This is where you ask if there is anything you can do to help,” she hinted into his ear.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Oz said dutifully.
“Promise me you’ll wait for me?”
He took a deep breath, “I promise.”
“I love you,” Cordelia covered his mouth with her unbandaged hand and gave him a dramatic stage-kiss.
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Angel pulled back from Willow, “I know this is going to be hard for us.”
Willow, a bit dazzled and gasping for air from the intensity of the kiss, nodded, “Hard.” She leaned in and tried to get another kiss.
He held her back away from him, “I’m serious.”
She stood back on her heels, “I am too.” Willow ran her hands up his arms, “I want to be with you. When I’m with Oz, I don’t want to think about why I used to love him. I want to think about you. Every second. Every minute. It’s you I want. You’re all I want.”
“Willow, I need you to promise me something,” Angel kissed her hand.
“What?” Worry crept into her voice.
“No matter what happens, you’ll wait for me. With all those old feelings coming, tell me you’ll wait for me.” He stroked her hair with gentle fingers.
“Are you scared that you’ll want Buffy back?” Willow stared up at him, afraid of his answer.
His hand stopped mid-stroke. “No. I just want to be sure my favorite redheaded witch comes back to me,” he lied, looking at the claddagh ring already on his finger, heart facing in.
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“You are going pretend to be with Cordelia,” Anya paced in front of Xander.
“Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to worry about me and Cordy-”
“I know I don’t. Cordelia hates you.”
“Thanks, An.”
“Well, the first time she visited Sunnydale, you two couldn’t say a nice thing to each other,” she pointed out. “Naturally, I took that as a sign it was over.”
“We always argue. It’s like foreplay,” Xander clapped his hand over his mouth when that slipped out.
“I’m going to pretend I did not hear you say that. I trust you. I do,” Anya assured both herself and him.
“You know you can trust me,” Xander told her.
“Just in case, during those two days with Cordelia, there will be no kissing.”
“No kissing, no problem.”
“Also no sex.”
“That goes on the list after kissing?” He hastily corrected himself, “No sex.”
“No talking dirty.”
“No problem there either.”
“No touching.”
“No touch- wait, don’t you think it will look suspicious if I never touch my girlfriend?”
She considered it, “I guess touching is okay, but all the other stuff is off limits.”
“Fine with me.”
“Good. As long as we’re clear.” Anya glanced at her watch, “Two minutes left. Not enough time for sex.”
“I’m glad you think so, since I don’t think Cordy would appreciate walking in on that,” Xander said.
“Can you hold me until we have to trade?”
“I can do that,” Xander welcomed his girlfriend into his arms.
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Midpoint
“Did you see which way Xander went?” Cordelia asked Angel, the first person to invade the lounge.
“Willow?” Oz indicated the door Angel just vacated.
“She’s there,” Angel confirmed.
Throwing a brief look at Cordelia, Oz bolted for the door. Angel didn’t even notice. “Where did Buffy go?”
“I believe I had the first question. I’ll talk Buffy after I get an answer.”
“I don’t know. Buffy?”
“You’re really stuck on that,” Cordelia commented, eyeing Angel carefully.
“Can you tell me where she went?” Angel kept on the same tack.
“All right, Cordelia,” Anya came in through another door. “It’s your turn. Don’t touch my boyfriend.”
“Don’t worry. I can keep my hands to myself, but can he?” Cordelia tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Angel, “I think Buffy’s in her room. Nice to see you’ve got the ring on already.”
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“Here’s the ground rules, trademarked by Anya. No kissing, sex, or talking dirty,” Xander listed for Cordelia.
“All things I wasn’t planning on anyway,” Cordelia continued, “I have a few additional rules.”
“Hit me.”
“We can touch, but if your little hands wander, I’m going to give you a mental bitch-slap so hard that your head will explode.” To punctuate her message, she pointed her right forefinger at a vase behind his head. The vase blew up, barely missing him with the debris. “Got it.”
Xander brushed of his clothes in the event he had been hit. “I’m good. Did I mention I hate you?”
“I hate you too,” she reached for his hand. “As long as we’re clear on that, let’s go face the Faith.”
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“Hi, Willow.”
“Hi, Oz,” she greeted him solemnly.
“Are you ready?”
She shook her head, “I can’t pretend this is fair. I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I’m not going to pretend this is easy. No pretending for this witch.”
“Don’t pretend. Just be you, Willow,” Oz said gently, taking her hand.
Her eyes closed as their fingers entwined. “And I can’t pretend this doesn’t feel right.”
“Neither can I,” Oz tightened his grip oh her hand.
“No one has ever let me be me the way you do. No hiding. No games. Only me, and only with you.”
Oz’s answer was sad, “I wish things weren’t this way. You, me, Veruca. Things were never supposed to be like this.”
Willow almost pulled away at that, “But they did happen that way, and we can’t go back.” Bowing her head slightly, she asked, “Can we get this over with?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
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Buffy was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. When Angel entered, she didn’t turn to acknowledge his presence. He stood beside her for a minute, debating whether to speak or not. There was so much to say, but he couldn’t put any of it into words. Simply watching the pain in her features made him long to take her in his arms.
At last he extended his hand to her. She woodenly placed her hand in his.
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Faith opened her eyes and focused on the face above her. The Watcher.
“Hi, there . . . Giles,” Faith was able to recall his name from the fogginess in her head.
“Praise God. Are you okay?” He helped her sit up.
“I’m fine,” Her body protested after such a long period of disuse. “Oh, it feels like I’ve been lying there forever.”
A shadow crossed Giles’ face, “A while, yes, but certainly not forever.”
Her head seemed to be full of blurry images, “What happened?”
“You were injured on patrol. Severe concussion, but it appears that you will recover fine with no adverse effects beyond some small memory gaps.”
“Really, that’s comforting,” she stretched her arms. “So, am I allowed to get up? Or is it too soon? Not that I’m gonna listen anyway, but I would like to get out of this pastel hospital gown.”
“We did wake you a bit prematurely. A little more time would have done you some good, and you are the Slayer, but the situation has escalated to the point where we need you,” Giles admitted.
“So what happened during my nap? Somebody die?” Faith started to get unsteadily to her feet.
“Don’t worry,” Giles rushed over and steadied her tottering figure. “First we’ll get you dressed, and then there are a few people who are dying to see you alive and well.”
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“Hey there, B and Angel!” Faith, now comfortably attired in black leather pants and skin-tight tank top, called to the first people she saw. She was somewhat startled by the blank spot the two were projecting in her mental picture. “Wow, it’s almost like you two aren’t even here.”
Buffy lifted her head off Angel’s shoulder, “How are you feeling?”
“Five by five,” Faith stepped confidently toward Buffy and swept the hair off Buffy’s neck. “And what have we here?” The bite mark on Buffy’s neck was displayed for the whole group to see. “Looks fresh. Angel, you bad, bad boy.”
Buffy didn’t blush, but Angel did and dodged Faith’s eyes.
Before Faith could say anything else, Xander spoke up, “Could you please not remind me of Buffy’s hot vampire-loving.”
“But he’s so buff,” Faith pressed on Angel’s bicep. He looked very uncomfortable, and Buffy just rolled her eyes.
“But he’s so undead,” Cordelia broke in from her place on Xander’s lap.
“And he’s a werewolf,” Faith addressed Oz who was sitting on the couch holding Willow’s hand.
“My werewolf,” Willow reminded her and snuggled into Oz’s shoulder.
There was a strange choking noise that caused Faith to turn back to Angel and Buffy. “What’s going on? Aren’t you guys supposed to be on patrol or something?”
Forrest stumbled into the room, a folder in his hand, “I’ve got the patrol schedules.”
“And who are you?” Faith eyed the newcomer with interest. Shaved head and all, he was a fine specimen in his combat fatigues.
“Forrest,” he replied, and Faith got the impression she was being sized up.
Giles stepped between them and took the schedules, “Forrest is the reason we woke you up so soon, but that is tomorrow. First we have other assignments.” He opened the folder, “Willow and Oz, you have kitchen duty. Xander and Cordelia, you have mission briefing with Forrest. Buffy, Angel, and Faith, you’ll be part of Team Magician tonight in Sector 3.”
“I’m Faith,” she stepped past Giles and shook Forrest’s hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said with military politeness.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Faith got closer, not letting to. “But it could be all yours.”
“Faith,” Buffy said warningly.
“Shut it, B. I was just going to ask Mr. Forrest here if he could help me get ready for patrol. You will help me, won’t ya?”
Seeing Xander nod at him, Forrest said, “Certainly.”
“I’m going to have to put dark colors on my face tonight,” she put her arm around Forrest’s waist and grazed his hips with hers. They moved toward the cafeteria door. “It worked last time. And as they say, once you’ve had black, you never go back.” Her hand dropped down and gave his butt a hard squeeze.
Faith smiled when Forrest cleared his throat. Buffy and Willow could stick to vampires and werewolves. Give her a military beefcake with a nice firm ass any day.
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“Did I push Forrest through the door in time?” Anya questioned Spike anxiously form the next room over.
“Just in time to keep stupid Peaches from shoving his foot in his mouth,” Spike told her, having carefully monitored Faith’s emotions through the conversation.
“How’s Xander doing?” Anya needed to know.
“Like a pro. He and Cordelia are saving the day,” Spike set down the vial of blood he’d used to simultaneously bring Faith out of the coma and join the web.
“Xander has always been very, very good at that,” Anya gushed. “And I get to say that because I am really his girlfriend. His real girlfriend.”
A different door opened, and Pike stomped in, “What’s going on, and why aren’t I scheduled to patrol? Is this a punishment for last night’s disaster?” He stared at the two people in the room, not used to seeing Spike and Anya alone together. “Where’s Buffy?”
“Buffy is going on patrol with Daddy Dearest and Faith. You are not going on patrol because I need you and Anya,” Spike answered calmly.
“You do? For what?” Anya was instantly suspicious.
“I am going to take a walk. Outside of the mansion,” Spike announced.
“You can’t,” Pike said flatly. “It’s not safe for you.”
“Let me rephrase. I am going to take a walk outside the mansion.”
“That wasn’t rephrasing!” Anya objected.
“I’m taking a walk whether you like it or not. And you two are coming with me,” Spike smiled, almost condescendingly.
“No. Buffy would kill me,” Pike refused.
“She should be the least of your worries right now. You should be a bit more worried that I am going to walk out of here on my own. Supposing you don’t come, it’s very likely that I’ll collapse somewhere and get killed. Which would definitely kill Buffy, and probably half the web,” Spike’s grin grew even more.
“We won’t let you leave,” Pike crossed his arms over his chest and placed himself between Spike and the door.
Spike stood up and pinned Pike with a dark glare. “Wanna bet? None of you have the stones to stop me.” He got right in Pike’s face, “Either you let me go alone, or you come along and help.”
“This is blackmail,” Anya said, “I’m not coming.”
“Sure you are. Take one for the team,” Spike urged, not backing down from Pike.
She considered it, “Well-”
“Besides, what are you going to do here? Mope around for Droopy-boy?”
“Oh - fine. I’m coming,” Anya conceded.
“Pike, in or out?”
With great reluctance, Pike relaxed his arms and said, “In.”
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“Continuing the Faith-story - this is the famous Mayor of Sunnydale,” Xander flipped to a slide of Mayor Wilkins. He and Cordelia were in the strategy room giving Forrest an in depth briefing on Faith.
“He turned into this.” *Click.* A slide of the demon head.
“Also this.” *Click.* A slide of the body.
“And this.” *Click.* A slide of the tail.
“That is one large hostile,” Forrest was awed.
“It was bigger in person,” Cordelia sniped. Xander rolled his eyes.
“As far as we know, this was her first human kill,” Xander showed a slide of the Deputy Mayor. “His name was Allan Finch. She mistook him for a vampire and staked him.”
“Poor girl. That’s a tough break,” Forrest said.
“Tougher for him,” Cordelia pointed out.
“I could do without comments from the peanut gallery,” Xander told her.
“You could make this a little faster and more interesting,” Cordelia yawned.
“Sorry it doesn’t fit your requirements for Cordelia’s Best Presentation Award. Should my visual aids be flipping my hair and sticking out my chest?” Xander retaliated.
“Speaking of sticking it, where’s Anya?” his ex-girlfriend shot back.
“Okay!” Forrest interrupted. “I see why you two had to break up, for safety reasons. Could we get back to Faith? It might be important to my survival.”
“No problem. Back to things we were supposed to be doing, this is Kakistos, a vampire that killed her first Watcher.” *Click.*
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“I’ve never been on kitchen duty before,” Willow idly stirred the soup on a stove, gingerly touching the saucepan with a cloth potholder. “I think it’s because I’m not too good at cooking.”
“I’d have never guessed,” Oz said as he threw out the bread she had burned in the toaster.
“I’m a computer nerd. Not a chef. My mom put me in front of a computer when she found out a blender was too advanced for me,” Willow picked up a salt shaker. “Do you think the soup needs salt?”
“What kind of soup is it?” Oz walked toward the stove.
“Vegetable beef, I hope,” Willow examined the salt thoughtfully. “What do you think?”
Oz shifted his face into wolf mode, tested the air, and changed back, “I think you should add pepper.”
Willow numbly set down the salt and stared at him in surprise.
“Willow?”
She blinked once and stammered, “Your . . . face. I - I didn’t - expect . . . wolf.”
The realization dawned on him, “You’ve never seen me do that?”
“No. Not really. We don’t patrol together, for good reason, and I haven’t been spending a lot of time with you. I knew you could change back and forth.”
“But you didn’t know I could stop in between.”
“The last time I saw you like that was Halloween. You chased me away,” Willow remembered.
“I wanted to protect you from the wolf,” Oz defended his actions.
“You didn’t have to do that. I trusted you,” Willow stated firmly.
“I didn’t trust me,” he stressed. “You don’t know how hard it was.”
“That’s because you didn’t tell me. You wouldn’t share it with me. I thought we were a couple. You problems are my problems,” she stopped on that. “I mean, your problems were my problems.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” Oz explained and handed her the pepper.
Dropping the potholder on the stove, Willow reached for the pepper. Their hands brushed briefly, and Willow jerked her arm back for the touch had let her hear Oz’s mind very clearly. The pepper fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces as Willow’s elbow collided with the pot of soup. The pot toppled backward onto its side, spilling its contents toward her.
Willow stuck out her hand and concentrated. The soup froze exactly where it was, four inches from her. She took an unsteady step away, already so close that she could feel the soup’s scalding temperature. Her arm trembled slightly under the effort it was taking to keep the soup suspended.
“Need help?” Oz asked, seeing her blanch. He made a motion toward her and the stove.
“Don’t!” Willow almost shouted at him. She leaned heavily on the stove. “I can move big stuff pretty easily. My fine control, not so good. And I had to catch the veggies and the meat, not just the sauce.” She squinted, and the saucepan righted itself. “Give me a few seconds.”
The potholder, left forgotten and very close to the burner, chose that moment to ignite. The rush of heat was so sudden that Willow lost mental control of the soup. It started to fall-
Things got confusing from there. First she was airborne, and then it became very dark. She was being rolled back and forth on the floor in the dark. Finally, the dark was gone, and she saw she was on the floor with a shirtless Oz on top of her.
“Are you okay?” His eyes were wild.
“Yeah,” she sat up and found her head had been propped up on Oz’s T-shirt.
“Your hair was on fire.”
“Oh,” she looked blankly at him. His chest and shoulders had various burn marks, covered in a sticky orange. “You’re hurt. You pushed me out of the way of the soup - Oh, no! The soup!”
Scrambling to her feet and running at the stove, she saw the fire was thankfully out since the potholder had been utterly consumed. A wave of dizziness hit her. Oz grabbed her waist and pulled her back before she tumbled forward onto the glassy remains of the pepper shaker.
“Did we save any?” Willow craned her head to see the pot.
“A little,” Oz turned her around. “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to the med lab.”
“Why?” Willow struggled against his grip, wanting to get back to the soup.
“Your shoulder.”
Willow checked her right shoulder. It was fine. She checked her left. “Uh-oh.” It was not pretty at all. “This is bad. I’m in shock, aren’t I?” Her left shoulder was black with what she could easily identify as second and third degree burns. “This is not good.” She fainted.
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“We need you to wheel left and flush out the Vaders hiding over there,” Ethan instructed over the radio to the Fyeral demon that the Tarot had affectionately named George due to everyone’s inability to pronounce its given name.
“Errm?” George was having difficulty processing those instructions.
“Run at those trees?” Buffy simplified the directions, pointing at the trees for his benefit.
“Rrremm,” George grunted in acknowledgement and headed toward the stand of trees fifty yards away from Buffy’s position. Team Magician had located a group of Vaders holed up in the clearing and was on task to eliminate them.
Buffy cocked her crossbow from her kneel, “How many?”
“Ten,” Faith peered over the log they were using for cover.
“Get ready,” Ethan cautioned Angel as George disappeared into the trees.
Four seconds later a group of green armored demons came boiling out away from where George had entered. They didn’t get very far. A gout of flame shot out in front of them form where Angel and Ethan were waiting for them.
Faced with fire in front of them and a huge demon in the trees, the demons turned tail and ran the other way, now toward Buffy and Faith.
“Now?” Faith readied her crossbow.
“Not yet,” Buffy kept still as the distance between their hiding place and their intended prey closed. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . fire!”
TWANG! The two Slayers fired simultaneously, and two demons went down with neck shots. Both were able to reload and get off a second shot as the demons milled around trying to understand the new threat.
While the Vaders were still confused, Faith repeated, “Now?”
“Now!” Buffy vaulted over the log and drew her long sword from her back. Faith followed suit, war-whopping at the top of her lungs.
From his vantage point, Angel thought the ambush was going quite well. Then he looked through his binoculars and saw something about the demons that spelled trouble. He took off toward the fight in a dead sprint.
“Dammit,” Faith swore as she cut through the armor on one demon’s shoulder to sever its arm. “These - creeps - won’t - die.” She sliced off his other arm. It didn’t even notice; it lurched at her. Faith sidestepped its attack and shoved her sword through its forehead. It shrieked and exploded into a foul smelling green cloud.
“One down, five to go,” Buffy went after another demon, stepping over a body.
“Not exactly. I don’t think-” Faith started, but sensed something and shouted, “Roll right!”
Not sure why, Buffy rolled right and narrowly missed the blade stroke from one of the ‘dead’ demons. In fact, all the Vaders they had taken down with their crossbows were climbing to their feet. “Not good,” Buffy backpedaled.
“We turning tail?” Faith called over her shoulder.
“We could wait for the cavalry,” Buffy considered and then smiled, “Or we could kick some ass.”
Faith returned the grin, “Now we’re speaking my language.” And they went at the demons outnumbered two to nine in a flurry of blades and fists.
Angel tackled the nearest Vader and snapped its neck. It tossed him off its back easily and stood up unfazed. He took in its bejeweled forehead and acted. Sighing, he flipped his double-barreled shotgun off his back and blew off its head at point blank range. He pumped his gun and blasted the head of the next-closest demon to kingdom come.
Then he was faced with a dilemma. He’d have to engage the rest in hand to hand combat because the fighting was too close quartered to use his shotgun. Buffy probably didn’t remember the demons from before, and Faith certainly couldn’t, but who needed more help? Faith had less in front of her than Buffy did, so Angel went to help Buffy.
Buffy was having a great time, feeling her sword singing in her hand. It was practically part of her, making her in feel invincible, though there were four armed demons circling her from all sides. She twirled the sword in a series of complex motions that instinctively found its way underneath the armor of the demons, wounding them deeply with each cut. The move took her in a complete circle, and she was partway through the final criss-cross slash when she froze.
The demon dissolved in front of her, and her blade stopped two inches from Angel’s face. Every muscle in her body quivered with the energy it had taken her to stay her hand. “What are you doing?”
“I thought you needed help,” Angel looked over the knife he’d driven through the demon’s head from behind.
“I didn’t,” Buffy carelessly spun her sword backward and bisected the top half of a demon’s head that chose that moment to attack her. “They’re Maura demons. I know how to take care of them, but you could help Faith a bit more.”
“She’s fine,” Angel dismissed it. “I was worried about you.”
“Bull,” Buffy moved toward Faith. “I wasn’t in a coma.”
Finally catching up, Ethan came upon the scene, “Maura demons? Help the other Slayer!”
George, who had made it there too, nodded and grabbed Angel’s arm and took him toward Faith as the dark-haired Slayer dispatched one of the three demons she was facing. Ethan zapped one of Buffy’s two remaining demons in the forehead with electricity while Buffy efficiently stabbed her final demon in the jewel.
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“Why are you doing this?” Anya watched Spike down a shot of whisky from her place across from him.
“Doing what, luv?” Spike poured himself another one. “Drinking like a fish?”
“No, I understand the drinking part,” Anya looked around the bar she and Pike had helped Spike break into. “I don’t understand why you are letting this charade go on if it bothers you this much.”
“Because I have to,” Spike drank the next shot.
“You didn’t have to. What are we getting out of it?” Anya asked.
“Next bottle,” Spike motioned to her. She glanced at Pike who keeping watch out the window. “Give me another one!” Pike reluctantly nodded, and Anya handed Spike a full bottle of vodka.
“What are we getting out of it?” Anya went back to her previous question.
Spike twisted the top off and took a long slug straight out of it, “We are getting two operatives in one of the two enemy camps.”
“But it’s making you miserable,” Anya observed.
“It’s called sacrifice. You should try it sometime,” he started to address the ceiling. “You hear that up there? I said ‘sacrifice,’ as in me. I’m sacrificing, and I most not be fricking drunk enough yet!” He drank more vodka.
Part II
Save my baby!” The young mother screamed at Team Magician, “My husband just left, and I can’t lose her, too!” Her two-story house at the edge of the woods was burning quite merrily, and the fire department clearly had no intention of answering yet another pre-dawn call.
“Where is she, ma’am?” Angel examined the house.
“Second floor bedroom, right there!” the woman pointed to a window the fire hadn’t reached.
“Empress-” Angel started to order Faith while the flames moved onto the roof.
“Not her!” Buffy interrupted, “Nothing can happen to her. I’ll do it.”
Ethan backed her up, “She is correct. Black Ten help her.” George moved in next to Buffy.
“Guys, group of Vaders on its way here, ten o’clock,” Faith announced, stake in hand. “Undead variety.”
Angel wasn’t paying attention, “Remember,” he told Buffy who was clambering into George’s massive hands, “Keep you head down. Stay below the smoke.”
Paying even less attention to him, Buffy had one question for the mother, “What is her name?”
“Madeline!” And the demon threw Buffy skyward.
She covered her face with her arms to protect herself from the window glass that shattered around her. Using her forward momentum, she rolled to the center of the room and quickly surveyed the room through a layer of smoke.
A little kids room. Lots of toys. An empty crib, but no little kid. She had to move fast because the room was getting hotter by the second.
Buffy ducked to a level below the smoke, “Madeline! Madeline!” She couldn’t hear a response, if there was one, over the dull roar of the fire. No kid under the crib. No kid by the toy box. Flinging the closet open, Buffy caught sight of a pair of big brown eyes.
“Are you Maddy?” Buffy knelt down, trying not to scare her.
A frightened nod was her response.
Well aware that she probably appeared rather frightening in her black face paint, Buffy did her best to be reassuring, “Your mommy sent me here to get you.” Buffy didn’t wait for an answer and gathered the child in her arms, heading for the window.
Before she had moved three steps in that direction, a mass of flaming debris from the ceiling crashed down in front of the window. The exit was completely blocked. If they were going to get out, it would have to be through the bedroom door, into the burning hallway. She, the Slayer, might survive the fire beyond the door, but Maddy almost definitely wouldn’t.
Something on the floor seized Buffy’s eyes. Not even spending time thinking, Buffy grabbed a blanket off the crib that Maddy must have climbed out of to the closet. Maddy’s mother had kept a dehumidifier in the room, and it was full. Buffy soaked the blanket in the water just long enough to be sure it was wet all the way through.
“Listen, Maddy,” Buffy explained, wrapping the little girl up. “This is going to keep you safe. It may get a little hot.” She covered Maddy’s faced.
Buffy went to the door. She knew there was fire behind it and opening it would feed the fire more air, but she had no choice. This was the only option. Ducking down low to one side of the door, Buffy used all her strength to kick the door inward off its hinges.
The door was caught and flung back across the room by the fire rushing in. Buffy shielded Maddy with her body and counted down from five.
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1
Buffy ran out the door, through the fire, carrying Maddy with her.
Hot. Scorching. Intense.
She searched blindly among the flames for the stairs.
Red. Smoking. Blazing.
She could hardly breathe the super-heated air as she stumbled past the railing and down the stairs.
Torrid. Baking. Searing. And into the gates of Hell in the hallway below. She was faced with sheets of flame in the three directions before her. Four because the stairs collapsed behind her.
Closed. Burning. Suffocating.
There was nowhere to go. They were trapped. There was only the heat, surrounding her. The fire was closing in, choking her. Nowhere left to run.
*I‘m sorry, Maddy . . . I‘m sorry Spike.* Buffy mentally apologized.
A hole opened up in one of the burning walls next to her.
“Hey, you staying here?” Faith’s voice came from the hole.
Buffy stared through the smoke and saw Faith had kicked her way in from the kitchen. The kitchen was burning too, but there was another hole to the outside.
“Sorry, no time to chat. Let’s go,” Faith grabbed Buffy’s arm and pulled her toward the exit.
It only took a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. It was something akin to trying to get a suntan by laying on the surface of the sun.
When they got to the hole, Faith didn’t allow any discussion. She just shoved Buffy and Maddy out the hole. They landed hard, and Buffy looked up to see Faith start to emerge.
She suddenly pitched forward, half in, half out. A beam had fallen from the ceiling and pinned Faith’s right leg down.
“NO!” Buffy set Maddy on the ground and ran back to Faith.
Faith struggled for a few seconds as Buffy attempted to pull her out. “It’s no good. I’m stuck. Leave me,” Her face was twisted in pain, made visible by the fire burning even more intensely.
“I can’t let that happen!” Buffy braced herself against the house and tried again.
“Give it up!” Faith insisted.
“I won’t leave you-” a shadow loomed over them. One long clawed hand reached past Buffy and yanked Faith forward. Faith was free so fast she didn’t have time to react.
George. They had forgotten about George.
They got clear of the house, George holding Faith and Buffy holding Maddy. The reuniting began, the mother hugging Maddy with tears in of joy. Buffy, however, was far to busy examining Faith’s injury.
“I think it’s sprained,” Buffy probed Faith’s rapidly swelling ankle.
Faith winced, “Yes! God, press a little harder, won’t you?”
“What were you doing in there? You could have gotten yourself killed,” Buffy admonished.
“Saving your worthless hide,” Faith shifted in George’s arms.
“I wasn’t in any trouble,” Buffy denied. Angel came up behind her and rested an arm on her shoulder. She had to fight the urge to shrug him off.
“You were one step from being well done,” Angel told her. “I was worried.”
“After we killed the vampires, he sent me in after you,” Faith tried to explain.
Those words made Buffy’s blood boil. Angel had sent Faith after her? “She’s the most important person out here, and you sent her into a burning building?” She shook her head violently, “I was never in any real danger. If I had been . . .”
Buffy paused. Something had been noticeably absent through the whole ordeal. Someone, rather, who was always watching over her. Someone who should have at lest reacted to her close call. Mentally, she reached out toward the mansion. He wasn’t there.
“Where is he?” Buffy was over to Ethan in a flash, lifting him up by his collar.
Ethan was no fool. He knew exactly to whom Buffy referred, “Well, he’s-”
“Excuse me,” The mother had recovered somewhat. “Did you say there were vampires?” She stared at the group, and who could blame her? There was a giant demon and a tiny blonde holding a large man off the ground with one hand.
Buffy let Ethan down, “Empress and Black Ten of Swords are injured. Magician, take everyone back to base.”
“Except you?” Ethan asked carefully.
“Right. Make sure Empress gets to the med lab STAT. Hanged Man, you can debrief these two,” Buffy ordered.
“I’m staying,” Angel informed her.
Biting back a response, Buffy kept her cool since Faith was watching, “Fine. The rest of you get going.” She stepped to Faith and squeezed her hand, “Take care.”
“I’m five by five,” Faith insisted, tossing her hair. Ethan grabbed George’s and the mother’s arm.
As they faded from view, the mother’s words were left, “What’s going on?”
“Look-” Angel started.
Buffy decked him with a right uppercut to the teeth. He fell hard. “What the Hell were you thinking?” She didn’t bother to let him answer but stalked off in the direction she could feel Spike.
Angel jogged up next to her and tried to take her hand, “Listen, I was scared.”
She pulled her hand back, “You were scared? You know what would be alot scarier? Getting her killed and making all this crap we’re going through pointless! That’s scary.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Newsflash. On this one, I don’t matter. She’s all that counts right now. All that matters. Don’t you get it?” Buffy was almost shouting as she passed the silent houses.
He stopped her by setting his hands on her shoulders, “You have to hear what I want to say.”
“Get your hands off me!” her voice was dangerously low.
“What’s the matter with you?” Angel was getting annoyed. “Why are you letting things get like this between us? If you would just try-”
“Try what? Going back to the way things were? There is no ‘us.’ We are over!” Buffy hissed.
“Why won’t you give it a chance? We were good together,” he pleaded.
Her jaw dropped, “Are you kidding? We had our chances. Over and over again. It didn’t work then, and it’s not possible now.” She spread her arms to make him let her go. “This is all an act. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Angel said.
“It does. Let me make this clear one last time. I love him. He’s what I feel every second of the day. He has my heart. I have his. There is no question of me ever leaving him. If I lost him, it would kill me, more than the fire could have tonight. He is everything to me. Nothing on earth can come between us.”
“Then why didn’t you know where he was?” Angel challenged, “Why didn’t he do anything at the fire?”
“Why did you even think I would ever consider betraying my best friend?” Buffy threw the conversation for a loop, “Do you think I’m so weak that I would betray my love and my best friend?”
No words could come out of Angel to defend himself.
Buffy sighed and sounded very tired, “That’s right. You didn’t think.” She took off her ring and threw it at him, “We’re over. Let it go.”
“Can’t you two just get along?” Whistler appeared beside them.
“Apparently, no,” Angel pocketed the ring.
“Do you have any idea how many times you two have broken up? The Powers aren’t exactly happy. You have some serious issues,” Whistler informed them.
“Some of us have issues,” Buffy scoffed, “Others of us are perfectly fine.”
“Don’t you kids understand the stakes of this game? We’ve got some major investment in you,” Whistler shrugged, “If anyone is going to survive, you have to be focused, no distractions.”
“We’ll be there. I promise,” Angel tried to assure the short demon.
“I can’t take your word, kid. There’s tension in the ranks, and we don’t like that. You will know. When you are calm, at peace. Passive.”
“Do you watch anything but Star Wars?” Buffy doubted, “Look, I’d love to stay here and hear you be vague for a few hours, but I’ve got places to go. Later.” She strode off.
“What are you waiting for? Go after her!” Whistler commanded the motionless Angel.
Angel complied.
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“Ow!” Willow sat up and found her shoulder strangely immobilized.
“You’re awake,” Oz slid over to her.
Willow saw she was in her own room, “Why am I hear?” She tried to see her shoulder, “What’s wrong with my arm?”
“Dr. Goldenvich said to rest for a day with that big burn,” Oz pushed some of her hair off her forehead, “You only lost a little hair.”
She chose to block that sentence out and said, “How long will my shoulder be like this?”
“A week,” Oz said.
“So short? How?” Willow wanted to know.
“Magic,” he answered with a straight face.
“Oh,” Willow touched her hair, “It doesn’t feel very short. Does it look okay?”
“It’s fine. Hungry?” Oz hinted helpfully.
“A little,” she licked her lips, “What have we got?”
“Vegetable beef.”
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Spike was prepared when the door to the bar was forced open.
“Are you crazy?” Buffy and Spike said at the same time, Spike simply anticipating her words.
“No, he’s drunk,” Angel said with Spike. The great Poof had come in after Buffy.
“Pike, how could you let him do this?” Buffy and Spike accused in unison.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Pike and Spike chorused.
“Will you stop that?” Buffy finally asked her boyfriend, who said it with her.
“No.” He took a drink out of one of the many bottles scattered around him. His hands were unsteady as he set it back down. It started to fall.
But Buffy was already there, keeping it on the bar, “You need to get in bed.”
“No,” Spike repeated and tried to pry the bottle out of her hand, “You get the bed. Not me.”
“What?” Buffy followed her question with, “Stop that.” She held the bottle tighter.
“Itz mine. If I don’t get my bed tonite, ducks, give me the bottle.”
“Buffy, just give him the bottle,” Anya cut in. “We’ve been trying to stop him all night.”
“Shut yer hole!” Spike slurred at her, “I’m sacrificing it all, unlike you. I’m letting Peaches here take my woman to bed, so I don’t wanna hear ‘bout it from youz either.”
“I have to sleep with Angel?” Buffy was so stunned she let the bottle go.
“Mine,” Spike held it close and addressed his girlfriend, “Stay ‘way. I don’t wanna see you, Buffy,” he was too far gone to care about the hurt his words left in her.
“With pleasure,” Buffy spat back. She snapped her fingers, “Anya, take us home.”
Anya linked arms with Buffy and touched Spike’s shoulder while Pike and Angel took hold of her back.
“No fair. I ain’t goin-”
And the bar was empty.
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Two couples had identical conversations.
“My side, your side,” She cordoned off the areas.
“I know,” he sighed.
“Cross it, and you lose pieces.”
It was going to be a long time till dawn.
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73 Days to Apocalypse
The sun had been up for five hours, and Xander was deep in briefing Faith and Forrest in the strategy room, “Here’s the current commander of the Initiative, Riley Finn,” Xander showed them a slide from the U.C. Sunnydale records.
Faith popped a bubble in her gum. Her right ankle was propped up on the table in front of her. The doctor and witches believed that between the drugs, the healing spells, and her hyper-Slayer healing that her foot would be in top condition by the time she left in the afternoon. “That’s great. I don’t see where I come in.”
“Fortunately for us, commando-boy has a weakness,” Cordelia chimed in, “A very common weakness,” That comment was aimed at Xander.
“Really?” Faith bent over to get more gum, letting Forrest get an eyeful of her cleavage, “What’s that?”
“Girls,“ Cordelia tossed a pen at Forrest, who shoved his tongue back in his mouth and straightened up.
“Who’s giving the lecture? Me or you?” Xander went back on track, “Agent Finn has been very interested in Buffy this past year.”
“So why don’t you send her?” Faith asked, a logical question.
“He didn’t take too well to the way Buffy likes the undead.”
“Yeah, in her bed. No kidding it must have ticked him off,” Faith had to agree on that one.
“That’s putting it mildly. The boy was jealous and pissed off enough to kill.” Forrest reiterated.
“Which is exactly why Buffy is no good for this. You’re perfectly suited to do this, though. You’re a Slayer, you’re beautiful, and he has no reason to think you sleep with the undead,” Xander continued on.
“Ahhh . . .” Cordelia said, her hands going to her head, “Xander-” She tumbled to the floor and started to shake with a vision.
“Cordy!” Xander could only stand over her. He’d been told that the vision would pass. It should only last a few seconds and then she would get up like nothing had happened.
Only it wasn’t stopping. She was still on the floor thrashing her bandaged arms. It wasn’t ending. It just kept going.
And going.
And going.
He didn’t know what to do. This was out of his league, and seeing her in this condition petrified him to the bone. He’d seen her have short visions before, but nothing resembling this. She needed help, and he had no clue how to give it to her. Normally, he’d probably go get Spike, except now Spike was sleeping the sleep of the undead and drunk. Faith and Forrest had not experience in this at all. Xander didn’t want her to get hurt, and his powerlessness was scaring him. What could he do?
“Is everything okay?” Oz came in from the back, “I heard weird voices.”
“Oz, get over here,” Xander motioned him closer, “I need your help. It’s Cordy.”
Xander had never seen Oz move so fast. In the blink of an eye, Oz was on his hands and knees next to her quaking form. He gathered her carefully into his arms, avoiding her wild struggles.
“What are you doing?” Xander gave Oz a hand standing up.
“Taking her someplace safer than the floor.”
She moaned, and Xander dropped a small kiss on her forehead, “Don’t let anything happen to her,” He glanced back at Faith, who was looking with genuine worry at Cordelia. His voice became very quiet, “Bad stuff always happens to the women I love,” He realized what he had said and fixed it, “Or loved.”
“Don’t worry,” Oz sprinted out the door.
Xander took a deep calming breath, trying to ease the tightness in his chest, “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She will be. Perfectly fine. I know it. Really . . . okay . . . everything is fine.” A pause. “Riley Finn: wanted Buffy, couldn’t have her.”
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Cordelia opened her eyes. She was in Xander’s room, in the bed she had spent the night. The first face she was, surprisingly, was Oz’s. “Oh, it’s you.”
“I get that alot.”
She put a hand on her aching forehead, “How long?”
He knew she meant the vision, “An hour.” Her eyes closed in frustrated exhaustion, “I need Anya. Now.”
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“Good luck,” Buffy hugged Faith, “You’re not going to need it, but take it anyway.”
“Thanks, B,” Faith tested her leg on the mansion’s porch. “Luck never hurts. Like back in that house, me finding you and the kid.”
“I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life,” Buffy decided to do it, “Thanks, Faith.”
“No biggie. You’d do the same for me,” Faith answered empathetically.
Never before had Buffy been so glad Faith couldn’t hear inside her head. She was barely able to say, “Good luck.” She hugged her a second time to cover.
“What’s with all the touchy-feely?” Faith inquired quizzically.
“I worry, okay? I mean, if something happened to you, there’d be a new Slayer, and you know how much I hate new people,” Buffy joked.
Faith abruptly changed her tone, “You’re not the only one.” She peeked over at Forrest, Xander, and Angel having a last-minute conversation, “Angel said that about you too, the worrying part.”
“Don’t you worry about him,” Buffy said shortly before she could stop herself.
“Something going on that you’re not telling me? He’s acting like he’s got something up his ass, but you don’t seem to care. I know you two can’t do the deed-” Faith blinked once, and her voice got very excited, “B, are you getting some stick action someplace else?”
Buffy couldn’t contain her confirming flush, “Shhh,” she hoped Faith would buy this half-truth, “He can’t know.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Faith smiled, running her eyes over Forrest, “Besides, I would never stop anyone from getting a hop on doing the bad.”
Playfully punching Faith’s arm, Buffy cautioned, “Watch your step on that one. Riley gets really possessive.”
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Faith winked conspiratorially, “I’ll be very good.”
Xander came over to them, “Ladies, it’s that time.”
“All right, time for me good-byes,” Faith grabbed Xander and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Bye, Xander.” She caught Angel and delivered the same treatment, “Bye, Angel.”
On Forrest, however, she hauled him almost on top of her, and the kiss went on forever. Buffy, unruffled, tapped her foot while Xander and Angel looked like they were on the verge of having simultaneous coronaries. Finally, Faith drew back, grinning veraciously; Forrest could only try to catch his breath. “Opps, I don’t have to say good-bye to you. My mistake.”
Seeing he might be getting a little too entwined with the ‘goods’ he was supposed to deliver to Riley, Forrest took a long step away, “Let’s go.” he started walking away from the mansion with as much dignity as he could muster.
“God, that boy has a tight ass,” Faith commented to Buffy and unprotestingly went after him.
When the two were out of sight, Buffy faced Xander. “Is it over?”
He was lost in thought for a moment and then absentmindedly said, “Uh-huh.” He roused himself out of the trance, “What? Are we done? Yes. If you two will excuse me, I’ve got some reports to catch up on.” Angel said, “Buffy-”
“Save it.”
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His head hurt. It was pounding on all sides. Spike groaned as he came to, “Somebody put a stake in me.”
“That can be arranged,” a crisp voice said from nearby.
“What?” Spike dragged his head around to see where he was and with whom.
“Welcome back,” Buffy coolly greeted him from a chair in their room.
Their room. He was in the room he shared with Buffy. His love.
“I feel awful,” Spike said out loud.
“You should. You drank half the stock in the bar,” Buffy reminded him coldly.
“I didn’t mean that,” he could read how angry she was very clearly, “I meant about what I said last night.”
“You were jealous.”
“I was. Seeing him make goggly-eyes at my woman,” he fumed.
Her eyebrows raised, “‘Your woman?’”
“And you let him!” Spike growled.
“I didn’t fight enough?” Buffy said in disbelief, “You shut me down when I said anything about it.
“But you gave in like nothing. I expected more protest, a slap or two. I got nothing,” he complained, kicking at his bed sheets.
“Don’t make this my fault! It was your idea! I was doing what you wanted!” she protested heatedly.
“But I didn’t know I would hate it so much!” he thundered. “There, I said it. I’m a big bloody idolt. I thought I could handle watching you with him. I couldn’t. I got mad at you for no good reason,” Those words physically hurt his head. Spike threw his arm over his head to shield his eyes from the light. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend is very stupid. Very stupid and very in love.”
He felt her climb into the bed, and lay her head on his chest, “It’s tough to stay mad at you when you are all apologetic and hungover.
“For real?” he removed his arm from his face and rested his hands on her back.
“One hundred percent,” She brushed her mouth to his. Happy white light grew across their bond, eclipsed possibly by the light in her eyes.
“I love you,” he held her to him, but then grumbled, “But I hate him.”
“I love you too,” she twisted her lips, “Would it make you feel better to know that I put him down hard when he even tried to come on to me?”
“A little,” Spike touched her face gently, “We’re all right?”
“We’re all right,” she confirmed.
“Good,” he released her and closed his eyes, “With that out of the way, I’m going to take a nap.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” his eyes stayed shut.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Believe me, no, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” he opened his eyes.
“No, you’re not,” Buffy told him, stripping off her last piece of clothing.
“No, I’m not,” Spike amended before she pulled him up for a kiss.
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“Willow?” Angel walked into her room and shut the door.
“Hi, Angel,” she set down the magic book she was reading in bed.
He walked over to her bed, “I heard about your shoulder. I’m sorry. It must hurt, but your hair looks fine.”
“It’s not too bad,” Willow tapped her left shoulder swathed in white bandages. Her voice sounded higher than usual, “With medicine and magic, it should be better by next week. I can’t patrol until then. Which is good. Not really good for patrol, but good for me, and good that the burn is healing this fast because I’m needed. The Tarot needs me to be in top form, though I’m not that important.”
“Are you okay?” He was confused by the way she was acting.
“I’m babbling, aren’t I? It sometimes happens,” she was talking extremely fast now. “When I get nervous, I babble like a brook. Which don’t really babble. They kind of glub-glub . . . ”
“Willow!” Angel got her to focus.
“Sorry. How are you? How were things with Buffy? Did you two handle the pretending okay? Not that I wanted things to go badly or anything. And they could have. Which doesn’t mean anything. Close quarters and dangers of patrolling together for the first time. Either way, anything could have happened. But I don’t need to know, if you don’t want to tell me,” She stopped for air, “And the babbling is back. I don’t do it on purpose. I can’t seem to keep myself from doing it.”
“Buffy and I are over,” Angel interrupted quietly.
The sentence hung in the air for a second. Willow gasped, “Oh.”
“Yeah. We have nothing to go back to. Buffy loves Spike now,” he took her right hand, “And I have you.”
“I - I - don’t know what to say,” Willow stammered. “I had this whole thing planned, but now I don’t know what to do. I’ve got to breathe. No, I’ve got to say it now, or I’ll lose my nerve.”
Angel swept some of her shortened hair back, “Say it.”
“I’m not ready.”
“What?” Angel hadn’t seen that one coming.
“I’m sorry,” Willow withdrew her hands, “I didn’t think this was going to happen, but Oz . . . I thought my feelings were gone. They were supposed to be, and then . . .” she was almost crying, “There was so much between us . . . I just can’t do it. I’m not ready.”
“I see,” Angel forced himself to say.
“I’m sorry,” Willow did begin to cry, “Please give me time.”
“Then take it,” Angel left, closing the door tightly behind him.
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Xander hated the paperwork piled on his desk. There were folders on folders on folders of intelligence reports, shift assignments, speculations of prophecies. After about an hour of work, he’d been able to clear a spot in front of him. He gazed longingly at his bed. Sleeping strictly on his side during the night with Cordelia had been a trial in itself. He’d lived in mortal fear of rolling over and getting the bad end of her temper. He hoped she was okay, since he hadn’t seen her after Oz took her away.
Then Anya pranced in dressed, oddly for the Tarot, in a T-shirt and jeans and carrying yet another folder for him. She walked around the desk, kicked off her shoes, plopped the folder down on his recently cleared space, and sat on the folder, “Brought you a new one.”
“I can see that,” Xander reached for it, but she firmly stopped him. “However, I can’t read it while you are sitting on it.”
“I know that,” her sense seemed somewhat preoccupied.
He glanced up at her face. The web was telling him of the strange mix of confusion and uncertainty running through her mind. It was somehow related to the folder and him. “Are you going to let me read it?”
“No,” Anya answered simply. Her aura changed as if she had come to a decision, “Xander, you know I love you.”
That was not what he would have predicted her to say, “Yes, I know. We’ve talked about this. I love you too.”
“I know,” Anya replied, and he felt her unexpectedly switch gears, “Let’s have sex now.” She tore off her T-shirt and started to take off her bra.
Xander’s eyes bulged at the sight of her peaked nipples. While he caressed one between his thumb and forefinger, he half-heartedly protested, “On the desk?”
“On the chair, silly,” Anya corrected him. She stood and stepped out of her jeans and lace panties.
“On the chair,” Xander echoed as she began to unfasten his belt. He had never seen her swing into this so quickly; it was fast, even for her.
The rest of his body had no trouble since he sprung to attention quite readily under the ministrations of her expert fingers. She stroked him up and down urgently and straddled his hips with her bare thighs.
“Just let me do the work,” Anya said, her eyes bright, her feverish need so evident. Without any foreplay, she thrust herself onto him.
She was unbelievably warm and wet, her worm body enveloping his thickness. Somewhere she began to kiss him, demanding and desperate. Her tongue swept across his as her lower body churned with his. Up and down, over and over again, every downward stroke bringing him deeper and deeper inside her. Their fingers twined together, and Xander struggled to hold back. She was riding him hard, and the urgency he could feel driving her was making it even more difficult.
Finally he pulled back from the kiss and captured her chin in his hands. Hazel eyes stared at him with such intensity though she was constantly in motion against him. The dizzying depth of emotion he could see entrapped him. It was there beneath the surface, beautiful and beckoning. He’d never felt so in tune with her. He wanted to make it last, forever, if it were possible. She tensed up suddenly, and the power of the orgasm that washed over her was reflected in her face.
She had climaxed without any clitoral stimulation whatsoever from him. Practically without any preparation at all, in fact. Times like that were few and far between, even for a couple as active as them. He was so amazed that he let himself go and followed her into the ecstasy.
It was heaven. Glorious, wonderful, dazzling heaven.
When they came down, Xander gazed at her slightly bowed head in awe, “Wow.”
She straightened up, and Xander saw the last thing he thought he’d ever see on her face. Tears. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too,” he wiped them away.
“Good-bye,” she got off him and began to rapidly redress.
“What?” Xander zipped himself back in, stunned.
“That was good-bye sex,” Anya was fully clothed again, and headed toward the door, “ . . . Read the folder.” She was gone.
He flipped it open and scanned it quickly. Thirty seconds later and three pages into the report on Cordelia’s vision, he was chasing after her, “Anya!”
Oz and Cordelia were waiting from him outside his room. Cordelia placed herself between him and the stairs, “Stop, Xander. She made her choice.”
“No!” Xander ran toward the window that overlooked the porch to see two figures walking away from the mansion, “Make her come back. Anya!”
“We can’t. She wanted this. She knew she was the best person for the job. The only person,” Cordelia tried to make him see the reasoning.
Xander moved angrily to Oz, “Why isn’t it you with her?”
“Jeremy and the wolf are one. I’m not,” Oz admitted his weakness.
“She’s not alone. Jeremy is with her. If anyone can make it as a wolf full-time, it’s him,” Cordelia said. “I Saw it.”
Logically, Xander knew they were right. Anya was a human witch that had once been a demon. She was plainly different from normal humans, considering she was over a millennium old. Of all the Tarot, she was the most likely to succeed at her chosen task. With Jeremy transformed as her bodyguard, chances were good that her sacrifice would be worth it.
“Why?” Xander asked anyway.
They could have replied in several ways. They could have told him how important it was to have the best intelligence information. They could have said how necessary it had been to get more operatives in addition to Faith and Forrest out there. They could have told him that Anya alone could offer her unique existence as human and demon as a bargaining chip for survival. They could have given all sorts of reasons why Anya had taken Jeremy with her to infiltrate the Adam’s Vader camp.
But Oz answered him, unknowingly using Spike’s words to Anya the night previous, “Because she has to.”
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