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The Slayer	By : norwalker Category: BtVS AU/AR > FemmeSlash - Female/Female Views: 19613 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 35
- 36
- 37
The Slayer

By Norwalker

Part 35 of a multipart story.

Summary: What if Faith came first? If she were the slayer before Buffy( if Buffy even became a slayer)? Just my take on what might have happened. AU, of course.

Pairings: Not sure yet. You might be surprised.

Rating: M( R )

Disclaimer: Characters depicted in this story, except for original characters created by the author, are the sole property of Mutant Enemy, Fox and Joss Whedon.

1

"FUCK!"

Faith hits the punching bag in front of her with a combo punch. She dances back a little, and comes at it again.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

She is in the little impromptu gym Giles has set up away from private eyes in a storage room of the library. Along with the punching bag and speed bag, there is a vaulting horse, a staking dummy(currently, with a collection of stakes bristling out of it's chest, and leaning a little to the side from being kicked a few too many times), a full floor mat, and a collection of knives and weapons on one wall.

Her whole concentration right now, however, is on the punching bag in front of her.

She is dressed for a workout, wearing just a wife beater, a pair of shorts and athletic shoes. Her wrists are taped, but her hands are gloveless.

"Where is she, Giles?"

She hits the bag with some force, causing it to bounce out on its springs.

"Why haven't we heard from her?" She hits the bag again, harder.

"WHY ISN'T SHE REPORTING IN?" She yells, attacking the bag! Her arms flying like windmills, hitting the bag over and over. She needs to hit it, hurt it. Make it ache like she aches inside. She needs to release the anger and frustration she feels.

And she's overflowing with both.

On and on she hits the bag, circling it, punching it, not stopping. She curses and swears, her breath coming out in gasps as she takes out her worry and anxiety on the hapless bag. She starts to kick it too, needing to punish it.

"GODDAMNIT!" She explodes, hitting it with everything she's got.

The springs holding the bag give way, and the bag goes flying across the room.

Right into the somewhat surprised body of Angel. Taken by surprise, he finds himself knocked backwards into a table of books waiting to be catalogued. He knocks it over, hitting his head on the edge of the up-ended table.

He groans.

"Angel!"

Faith, seeing the damage, comes over and stands over the somewhat bemused vampire. He looks up at her with slightly sardonic expression.

"How come, every time I come to see you, it almost costs me my life?"

Faith, frowning, just shakes her head and holds out a hand. Angel takes it, and she pulls him to his feet.

"Well, maybe if you didn't go sneaking up on people…" Faith growls.

"What sneaking? I came in through the door, and tried to get your attention, but you seemed…" he looks at the bag sitting on the floor. "… well, occupied."

"How'd you get here, anyway? I mean, it's still kind of bright and sunshiny. I mean, unless you've discovered some really amazing sun block, how are you here and not some crispy critter, anyway?"

"Well, like the rest of Sunnydale, there's a couple of tunnels running right under the school… one leading right to the basement…

"Aw, right. Whatever," Faith walks over, and grabs the bag. "You gonna help me with this, or what?"

"Well, hi, Angel," Angel says as he moves over, and grabs an end of the punching bag. "How are you? Feeling better? Getting over that torture marathon…?" He helps her carry it over back to the frame.

Faith makes a noise in her throat. "Ok, are you feeling better?"

"So, what's eating you?" He counters, hanging the bag back on its frame.

"Nothing," She mumbles. "I was training. I got a little frisky. Accidents happen." She starts to punch the bag. "What's the deal?"

"I'll hold this, if you don't mind," Angel holds the bag to keep it from moving around. "Next guy might not be so lucky, or a vampire…"

"It was an accident, ok?" Faith says, her tone impatient. "God, get over it!"

"I'm over it," Angel notices the list to the staking dummy. "Not so sure about him."

"What?" she turns around, and seeing the staking dummy, a slight flush comes to her neck. "Look, I'm training. Facing a big bad that I don't got a clue about. So, I'm not exactly being gentle. I need to get ready."

Without further word, she lays into the punching bag, her arms moving like pistons on a racing engine. There is some grunting heard, mostly from Angel who is taking the force of the blows while keeping the bag in position.

"Ok, enough! I think you've killed it," Angel moves back, not wanting to punish his abdomen further.

"Look, I'm kind of busy here, ok? There a point to you being here, or …?" She leaves the question hanging.

"Giles asked me to tell you that there's going to be a meeting tonight. He'd like you to be there."

"Oh, and why didn't he come up and tell me that himself?" Faith delivers another blow to the bag, and Angel grunts.

"Dunno. Maybe he saw the staking dummy…"

"Ha. Funny. You should take that on the road…" She looks pointedly at the door.

Angel ignores her words, and instead just stands there, staring at her.

"Now would be good," Faith drops the not too subtle hint.

"Fine, whatever…" Angel holds up his hands, then turns and walks towards the door. "Good seeing you again, sunshine…" He pauses, back to Faith. "When you get over being pissed off, give me a call, ok?"

"I. Am. Not. Pissed. Off!" Faith belts the punching bag again, and once again it goes flying, this time narrowly missing Angel. "Aw, shit!"

"Yeah, I see that…" Angel picks up the bag, and sees a tear where her fist connected. He carries the bag over, holding it closed to keep as much sand in it as possible. "I think you're done with this for today."

Faith in the meanwhile has sunk down on the floor. She sits there, idly tapping it with her fist.

Angel sets the bag down by the frame, and comes over, squatting down by Faith. He winces a little.

"What?" She says, looking at him. "Oh shit, you're bleeding!"

"Huh?" He reaches up, and touches his face with his hand. He pulls it away. "Oh. It's nothing, don't even feel it. It's the shoulder… where that girl shot me. Still aches a little."

"Don't be stupid. After what happened to you, you can't afford to lose any blood…" Faith gets up. "I've got a med kit around here somewhere…."

"Faith. It's no big deal, I'm ok. I heal faster than even you…"

"I've got it…"

Faith is still standing where she was, looking around. As if she didn't recognize the place.

"Where the fuck did I put that thing…?"

Angel, seeing her confusion, gets up. He goes to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Faith…"

"No, I got it. I can fix it. I can. I just…"

"Faith, tell me…" He pulls her gently into his arms.

Faith struggles a little, but not too hard. She seems to collapse into him, her body losing its tension. She just stands there, pressed against him, her head hanging down. He can feel her shivering in his arms.

"What if she's dead?" She asks, almost silently.

"What?" Angel asks gently. He heard her, but wants to draw her out.

"Cordelia," She raises her head up, turning to look at him. "What if she's dead…?"

"Faith…"

"We haven't heard anything in over a week. Nothing, nada, zilch. Why doesn't she call? Why doesn't she at least let me… us… know she's ok?" Faith face flushes. "She was supposed to be safe. Giles PROMISED me she'd be safe! What if he's found her out? What if he's torturing her, right now? What if …"

"Faith," Angel holds her gently by the shoulders. He bends down a little to look into her eyes. "Look at me…"

Faith energizes, and she seriously tries to get away from him this time. He holds her fast, however.

"Angel, let me go. I've got to go. I've got to…" She looks up at him, her eyes large, "Why didn't he tell me? Why did he lie to me? Why wasn't I told about this? I don't get it, we're on the same side here. Why didn't I know until after?"

"Faith, be honest. If he had told you what he was planning beforehand, would you have gone along with it?"

" Hell no!" Faith declares, "God, what was he thinking? She's not ready for something like this. A thousand things could go wrong. She's not equipped for this, she's just a civilian."

"Oh, I see," Angel says, "So, her being a 'civilian' means she's not capable of doing something brave, then?"

"What? No, I didn't say that… God, stop twisting it around. This is wrong. Giles never should've sent her in. It's just wrong…"

"So, what should he do then, Faith? Just sit back and wait for Cornell to open the Hellmouth?"

"No, but there had to be some other way…"

"Name it."

"What?"

"Name it. Tell me the 'other way', Faith. He tried me, he tried you. So far, we're batting zero. Maybe he should've tried Xander, or Willow?"

"That's just crazy talk. Of course not!"

"Well, what then? Who else did we have? Who else even has even a remote chance to get in and get what we needed without getting caught?"

"I dunno, but there had to be something else we could've done!"

"Like what? Go up and ask him his plans? Trust me, Faith. From experience? I know he's not good with sharing his plans with others."

"Sarcasm isn't helping Angel."

"What will help then, Faith? What's gonna penetrate that thick skull of yours?" Angel says, feeling frustrated himself. "Do you think it was easy for him to ask her? Knowing how you'd feel? How she'd feel? Do you think it was easy for him? He spent a lot of nights torturing himself over that…"

"Angel, excuse me. But if you forget, you weren't anywhere around when this came down. How would you know?"

Angel's face hardens. "Faith, I'm well aware of where I've been for the last couple of weeks," He says, a little harshly. "And yet, even so, I happen to know because, unlike you, I've actually talked to Giles in the past week…" He frowns at her, " … you might actually try it, rather than ignore him."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh, really? Gee, too bad. Get used to it. Life's not fair, Faith!"

"That's funny, coming from the dead guy!"

"How fair is it," Angel continues, "you trying to take away Cordelia's chance to help? Think she feels good, knowing what her father is? Knowing her heritage? Think she likes the thought of it?"

Faith flashes on the scene in the hallway of the hospital, the day Cordelia found out about her father. How the hell does he know about that?

"Yeah, Giles told me about that, too," Angel answers her unspoken question. "So, tell me, Faith. What gives you the right to stop her from doing what she thinks is right? Yeah, she didn't like, and Giles didn't like asking her. But sometimes, Faith, you gotta do the stuff you don't like. Because it's the right call. Grow up, would you? This isn't about you, or her, or any one of us. The whole fucking world is hanging in the balance. Cordelia knew that, and scared as she was, and Giles told me she was scared, she chose to do it. The girl's got guts… a lot more than you give her credit for."

"I know," Faith says softly. "That doesn't mean it's right she has to use them."

"No, maybe not," Angel says gently. "Maybe she felt she didn't have a choice."

"Maybe not," Faith shakes her head, not really accepting it. "that still doesn't make it right…"

"Faith!"

"What? What now?"

"You've got to find a way to deal with this, Faith. You've got to put it aside. You and Giles need to be together on this. You know that…"

"Yeah, I know" She says flatly.

She turns, heading for the door. She needs to get out of here, and think. She stops before reaching the door, and turns back.

"Just tell me something, ok, Angel?"

"What?"

"How do I deal with if she dies, and she doesn't know how much I love her?"

Faith doesn't wait for an answer. She slips through the door, closing it behind her.

Angel stands there for a moment, staring at the shut door in front of him. There's an odd expression on his face. He sighs, and pulls open the door.

"You just don’t get it, do you, Faith?" He shakes his head as he exits.

2

Willow sits alone on a small bench in the quad, contemplating the apple she has in hand. There is a sad expression on her face.

So, little apple, what do I do? Do I eat you, who are good for me, and enjoy your juicy sweet goodness? Or, do I put you aside, and go over, and spend my allowance on junk comfort food from the vending machine, hoping that I'll get some sweet goody goodness out of it? Even though I know I shouldn't, and that it'll rot my teeth and make me fat and … oh poop!

She bites down on the apple, but it doesn't live up to its promise. It tastes flat and pulpy in her mouth.

Hey! Where's the juicy juice sweetness? Where's the crispy crunch? Kinda not fair tempting me to bite into you, and not giving me the goods, you know? Turning out to be all … well… wrong…

Willow sighs, and looks across the quad. She sees Xander sitting on another bench, eating whatever the 'mystery surprise' d' jour from cafeteria, and laughing with a couple of his buddies. She lets out a large, forlorn sigh.

Look at him, over there, Probably gloating. So happy now that he's got rid of me. Oh yeah…

She fantasizes herself inserted in that picture, maybe even sitting on his lap. Their fingers interlaced, laughing and happy together. Of course, in her fantasy, there is a glow about them, the golden couple, and everyone is just so envious of how happy they are together.

Oh yeah, like that's going to happen again, ever. Yeah, sure…

She starts to hurriedly gather up the ruins of her lunch. She can't sit here any longer, watching him be happy without her. It hurts too much, it's killing her. She can't breathe; her lungs feel like they're on fire, and her heart just aches so badly. She starts to get up, when a restraining hand falls on her shoulder, holding her down.

Willow, startled, looks up into the unsmiling face of Faith.

"What?" She asks, feeling guilty and a little defiant at the same time.

"Hi, Faith. Good to see you, too," Faith returns, a little amused, and somewhat annoyed.

"Whatever…"

"Can I sit?"

Willow looks surreptitiously over her shoulder. "I guess. I mean, it's a free country."

Faith looks over, and sees Xander.

"Ok, maybe I won't sit then," She remains standing.

They remain there, each in their own place, for a few beats, not talking. The silence becomes painfully awkward.

"Sooo… when are you gonna make it up…" She nods over at Xander. "… you two?"

"What do you care?" Willow says petulantly.

Faith gives her an 'I can't believe you just said that' look, and letting out an exasperated noise, decides to sit anyway. She sits facing away from Willow.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what? What am I supposed to 'get' ?"

Faith turns, and looks at her. "Even though I'm pissed at you, with reason, I might add…"

Willow gets a guilty look on her face.

"… doesn't mean I don't care. God, that 'tude of yours. It's really annoying you know? For being such a big brain, sometimes, you're incredibly stupid!"

"Oh, well, thanks for the pep talk. I'm feeling so much better now," Willow starts to get up. "Mind if I go somewhere where I'm not being insulted now?"

Faith puts a restraining hand on her leg, holding her. Willow sighs, and sits down.

"There's that 'tude again… think you can listen, just once? Before getting all bent?"

"Fine, I'm listening!" Willow huffs.

"Willow…" Faith growls a little.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," Willow sighs.

"Yeah, well, you know what? I'm not the one you should be saying that to…"

Willow looks at her, surprised.

"Yeah, I'm pissed at you. After what you did? Don't you think I should be?"

Willow looks down.

"But what happened? Really? Not your fault…"

"Huh?"

"I blew it, you know? Really blew it," Faith confesses. "God, how stupid am I? Hitting her like that, right in front of you and Xander? How humiliating is that? Never mind, probably hurt like hell. God, how could I be such a dumb ass? No wonder she ran away from me. Won't talk to me. I'm a total moron…"

Willow mumbles something.

"What? Didn't hear you."

"I said, no argument here…"

"Hey!"

"Talk about your not getting it. God, how wrong can you get?"

"Excuse me?" Faith doesn't sound happy.

"Don't get pissed at me!" Willow says, defensively. "But you're way off base if you think that's what bothered her…"

"Ok, Ann Landers, you're so good at the relationship stuff…" Faith frowns at her. "Exactly what did bother her, then?"

"Sarcasm isn't helping, you know…"

"Fine, just tell me!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was upset that you bent her over the library table and spanked her bottom," Red continues, "but that isn't what really hurt her…"

"Gonna get to the point before I turn 30, Red?"

"It's because you didn't listen to her, ok?"

"What?"

"You didn't hear what she was telling you. She told you …" Willow hesitates, "… ok, I was jealous, and was acting like a jealous idiot, and I treated her like dirt. And you didn't believe her, and she got angry. That hurt the most, you know, because, whether I like it or not, she's your girlfriend, and she expected you to at least listen to what she was telling you. And maybe, believe her, cuz it was… true… " she fades a little at the last.

Faith puts her face in her hands, shaking her head.

"I dunno, it's stupid, I know," Willow goes on, "I … there's this passion you've got. This newness, discovering stuff about each other, the whole … specialness… the looks, how you light up when she comes in a room, or how she looks at you like she wants to eat you up right where your standing. This incredible… something you got, something new and exciting and alive and… " She stops, taking a deep breath. "Ok, gonna bottom line it here for you…"

"Oh, please do!" Faith says ironically.

Willow gives her a look.

"Listen up, ok? You might learn something," Willow huffs a little at Faith's sarcasm. "Point is, she's mad at you because you wouldn't listen to her. With reason, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess," Faith admits, reluctantly.

"But just because she's mad at you, doesn't mean she hates you. No way, not when she's so gaga over you. It's plain as the nose on your face, Faith. The girl loves you, but right now, she's just royally pissed at you… with cause…"

Faith stares at her for a moment.

"You really think she loves me?"

"Yesss," Willow almost hisses. "God, why I'm here even telling you this I don't know. But she does, much as I hate it." Willow shakes her head. "Do you know how stupid I feel right now, doing this? Having to tell you this?"

Faith start to chuckle.

"What? It's not funny!"

"No, it's really not. I'm not laughing at you, Red. Honest. Just…" She shakes her head. "Look, Willow? I like you, you know that, right? Ok, right now, not liking you all that much, but deep down, I know… you're a good friend, ok?"

Willow gets an "Oh" look on her face.

"But there's nothing more there. There's… I just don't feel that way about you…"

Willow doesn't say anything.

"And to be frank, I never will. I don't see you that way… I'm sorry, but it's the truth." She pats Willow's hand. "I should've made that clear sooner."

"Yeah, I know that…" Willow says softly. "I'm just kind of stupid…"

"No argument here."

"Thanks a lot!"

"Attitude, Willow?" Faith looks at her. "You're stupid, because instead of being happy, you're envious of what I don't got, and more? You're probably throwing the best thing you could have away."

Willow's lip suddenly starts to tremble, and she whimpers.

"Oh yeah, you get it now, don't you?" Faith says, maybe a little harshly. "God, I'd give my eyeteeth for what you got with Xander. You not only get a pretty fine looking guy, but more? You get your best friend to boot. Someone who knows you like no one else, and yet STILL wants you!"

"Again with the insults…?"

"Stop it, ok? I meant, he knows all your faults, your peculiarities, everything about you, and he's still crazy about you! No games, no having to pretend you're something your not. Just be you, and he's mad about you!"

"I don't think so. He … he… hates me!"

"HOW STUPID ARE YOU?"

"Yell it a little louder. I don't think the lunch lady heard you!" Willow blushes furiously, looking around.

"You just don't get it. Ok, I'll spell it out. Even now, when he should be pissed at your antics, who do you think he defends? God, somehow, he's gotten it in his mind this whole thing is MY fault! Does that sound like someone who hates you? He won't even talk to me… wanna guess why? Because he thinks I did something to encourage you in this craziness of yours…" She shakes her head in disgust. "Any sane person would see the truth. Oddly, he doesn't"

Willow looks over at Xander, then back at Faith.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really, and boy, trust me, it pisses me off even more. I don't deserve this, you know?" Faith stands up suddenly, looking pissed all over again. "You know what? I'm done here. Get a clue, Willow, for once in your life…"

She starts to walk away.

"But… but what do I do?"

"Figure it out, ok? Do what you gotta… crawl, beg, I dunno, but do something. God, just leave me out of it!"

Faith storms off.

Willow sits there, looking a little flustered. God, what is her deal, anyway?

Somehow, through this whole tirade, she's managed to hold onto the apple she was eating. She looks across at Xander, and sighs. She looks at the apple, like she's going to take another bite.

Then suddenly, she just lets it drop to the ground. She gets up, leaving her lunch, books and everything behind. She starts to walk over where Xander is sitting.

"Oh boy, here she comes, "John, one of Xander's friends says, watching her approach.

"Is she angry? She looks… I dunno, I can't really tell how she looks," Bob, the other friend, stares at her.

Xander watches her, and takes in a breath. He'll need it.

"Guys… ?" He looks at his friends with the 'get lost' look.

"Outta here, " John says, getting the hint. He doesn't want to be close when the explosions start happening.

But Bob doesn't move.

"Bob?"

"No, I wanna see this…"

Then she's there. Standing in front of Xander, looking strangely calm.

"Bob," Willow acknowledges him briefly and vaguely.

"Willow" Bob answers, staring at her.

"Get lost, Bob," Willow says, not looking at him.

"But…"

"Go, Bob," Xander says, not looking at him either.

"God, this blows," Bob grumbles, moving off. "I never get to see the good stuff…"

"Goodbye, Bob" Both say in unison.

They stand there for the longest time, just looking at each other. The tension grows, along with the awkwardness.

"What?" Xander finally breaks.

Willow kicks him in the shin.

"OW!" Xander grabs his shin, rubbing it. "God, what was that for?"

"You're supposed to hate me!" Willow declares.

"Do that again, and I might think about it!" Xander keeps rubbing his leg. "Why am I supposed to hate you?"

"Because," Willow winds up, " because I'm a stupid jerk girlfriend. Because I treated you like nothing, and hurt you, and I'm an idiot and you deserve better but do you hate me no, you go out and defend me even when I've been a total butthead and not appreciated how good you are or how much I need you and I miss you and you're my best friend and I'm supposed to talk about this kinda stuff with my best friend and I can't because it's about my best friend and I really need this to stop because my heart is breaking and I can't sleep and everything tastes bad and I hate waking up in the morning and you can jump right in any time you feel like because I think I'm going to start hyperventilating soon and then I'll pass out and die and then … MMMMMPHHHH!"

Xander uses the time tested way to shut up a babbling Willow. He grabs her and kisses her.

"Wha…" Willow has a confused, slightly dreamy look on her face. "What was that for?"

"You were babbling. I didn't know how to shut you up," Xander growls.

"You don't hate me?"

"Nooo … "

"But… you're not mad at me?"

"I didn't say that." He pushes her away.

"Oh."

"You hurt me pretty good, you know that, right?" Xander says, not looking at her.

"I know. I'm such a…"

"Please, Will. This is my rant, ok? Doesn't work if you help me."

Willow makes a zipped lips motion.

"Really hurt seeing you look at her like that, and not at me like that. That … thingie you got about her. I don't know, Will. It just really hurt, you know…?"

"Xander…"

"Willow!"

"Shutting up now"

"See thing is, Willow. You got so I got the feeling that I wasn't good enough for you…"

"Xander, no, that's…"

"STOP INTERRUPTING!"

Willow finally falls silent.

"And that really hurt. Cuz, I've loved you forever, Will. Yeah, I know, been pretty slow on the uptake, and it took that night at the Bronze, with you looking like a goddess to make me admit how much I loved you to even myself…"

Willow blushes furiously.

"… but I've loved you longer than that. I mean, who else would I love? Could I love? We've been together forever. Who else would I have to steal Underoos from…?"

"Xander!" More blushing.

"Who else would play doctor with me, and explain all my parts in anatomically correct detail?" Xander grins. "Who else, when Melissa kicked me in the … family jewels, would stick with me, and try to keep from giggling while holding my head? Who else would I hang around with and read comic books with on a rainy day? Even if she thought they were stupid and sexist? Who else would spend a day organizing my closet and bedroom, knowing I'd just go and mess it up again as soon as she left? And keep doing it? Who else could possibly be afraid of frogs, get as goofy as you do over drinking a single cup of coffee? Who else would teach me to dance, when I've got two left feet, and gets all squeaky and squeally over some new computer program that I don't even get?…" He turns to her, and smiles. "Who else could just be Willow? Cuz, I hate to say it, but only Willow will do. I know I should be angry, I know I should , if I were smart, I'd leave you and find someone else who might appreciate me more…"

"Xander…" Willow's eyes are huge, and tears are running down her cheeks.

" But you see, I just can't. Because, I can't imagine a Universe bizzaro enough without Willow being a huge part of my life. I don't know why, but when I'm with you, I want to be more. Better. Because, I just wanna… MMMMPHHH"

And this time, it's Willow that stops the babble with her lips.

Much to the accompaniment of cheers, hoots and a chorus of "Whoo Hoo"

John and Bob, standing off, watching the fireworks.

"See, told ya," Bob says, grinning. "the good stuff."

In the shadows, close to the school doors, another person watches, a little grin on her face.

About damn time, the brunette chuckles, entering the school.

3

The last colors of the sunset have long faded from the horizon while a familiar figure scales the wall to Sunnyrest Cemetery . Standing half crouched, dressed darkly to blend with the oncoming night, Faith makes her way about the perimeter, searching for any sign of life.

Or, more precisely, unlife.

"Vampires," Faith sings softly to herself, looking out over the graveyard, stake in hand. "Rise and shine, vampires. Time to meet your fate…" she waves the stake towards the enclosure. "… don't wanna be late for the party…"

One look at her face tells all. Faith is one rather incensed slayer.

"C'mon, assholes. Gimme something to kill. So far, it's been pretty damned boring…" She mutters, looking out over the expanse.

Jumping off the wall, she decides to take a more up close and personal reconnaissance. She is really in the mood to mix it up tonight. She needs something to work off the anger she's feeling.

Once again, someone is playing games her, and she's not at all happy about it.

So, rather than beating up a certain Watcher whose fashion sense begins and ends with tweed, she decides to get her happy in another way.

Killing as many of the undead as she can lay her hands on.

So far, however, the pickings have been slim, or none. Emphasis on the latter.

The point of this is what? Faith thinks to herself, crouched over as she makes her way through the cemetery. I swear, the vamps in this town have gone on vacation… haven't seen a one, lately. Except Angel, and he might not take it right if I jam a stake in him… She stops, standing up, looking around. So, what am I doing here again? Oh yeah…

It's earlier in the day, late afternoon as a matter of fact. Faith pushes through the doors leading into the library. She looks around, not seeing Giles at the counter.

"Giles! You here?" She walks in, heading for the stairs. "Or you hiding out in your office again…?"

"Faith?" Giles suddenly pops up from behind the checkout counter.

"Geeze, Giles!" Faith, startled, stares at her watcher. "Make a noise or something so I know you're here!"

"Ahem," Giles clears his throat. "Sorry if I startled you," he lifts up a stack of books he has cradled in his arms, "but I was bent over retrieving these when you came in. Was there something you wanted?"

"Well, it's nice to see you too, Giles," Faith says, her voice a bit tense. "Actually, I was gonna ask you that question."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, Angel said you wanted to see me? About some meeting tonight…?" Faith leans against one of the tables. "I just wanted to find out when and where…"

Something flashes quickly across Giles' face, but he quickly recovers.

"I'm sorry? Meeting?" Giles asks her. "There's no meeting tonight."

"Uhhh… ok, then why did Angel say there was a meeting, and you wanted him to remind me …?"

"I really have no idea," Giles says, shrugging a shoulder. "Perhaps he's confused. I mean, he might still be recovering from his recent trauma…"

"He didn't sound confused…" Faith looks at him, feeling a little suspicious. "He sounded pretty convinced…"

"Yes, and as I remember, when he was first back, he was also pretty convinced that pigs could fly…"

Faith rolls her eyes. "Look, Giles, are you saying there's no meeting tonight?"

"Yes, precisely," Giles nodded, turning to her. "As a matter of fact, your time tonight would be best served doing a routine patrol. There is no telling how Cornell's plans might be affecting the Hellmouth, and any increase in demon activity might give us a clue as to when and how he plans to put those plans into effect."

"Right, patrol," Faith nodded, tight lipped. "Got it"

She starts to walk away, and almost hits the doors when Giles calls out to her.

"Faith?"

"Yeah?" She looked at him, a slight frown on her face.

"I'm doing my best to get in contact with Cordelia. As soon as I hear from her, I'll let you know."

"Right," Faith said, flatly, as she turns and walks out the door.

And I guess I'm supposed to buy that happy horse crap, Faith thinks, back in the present. He was lying… I don't know why, but whatever. Have your little secret meetings, or whatever you're doing. Leave me outta the loop, just like you did with Cordelia…

Faith stops, and suddenly decides that she's not all that concerned about finding vampires. She sits down on a low stone, tapping her stake nervously against the side of it.

The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets at Giles for pulling that on her. She probably should be angry with Cordelia too, but she figures somehow Giles talked her into it, and that just makes her even more furious.

Why didn't he trust me? Does he think I'm a child? Yeah, I probably woulda raised a stink, but if he had good reason to do it, I would've gone along with it. Maybe. Whatever the case, he should've told me first! I have an interest here… a huge one… and he didn't even respect that. He just treated me like… goddamn him!!!

She's suddenly up off her makeshift seat, too wound up to sit. She strides quickly across the graveyard, trying to let the night air cool her off.

So, Giles, what good did it do ya, anyway? We heard anything from Cordelia? Do you even know if she's still… she stops the thought, not wanting to think it. Her heart pounds in her chest; her blood is pumping fast and furious through her veins. Her face is flushed with anger. You damn well better hope, Giles, that nothing happened to her. That for some reason, she just can't get a call out… you better fucking hope she's ok, because if she isn't… if that bastard has done anything to her…

A sudden sound, like the snap of a twig, brings her back from her thoughts. She whirls, around, and spotting what looks like two figures standing by one of the vaults, takes cover behind a large grave marker. Her slayer sense goes into overdrive.

Well, well, looks like my night won't be entirely wasted… she smirks, slowly making her way closer to the pair. Wonder what these two are up to… gotta get a better look…

And almost as if cued, the moon comes out from behind the clouds, and the yard gets a whole light brighter.

Her smirk turns into a grin as she sees the familiar platinum calling card of one the vampires.

Looky who's here, Faith almost chuckles at the sight. Looks like someone up there likes me, after all. Guess what, Spike? Time for a little payback.

Carefully keeping to the shadows, and downwind, she moves closer to the pair.

4

"We have come as you requested."

The dark mage, shrouded in a black cloak, approaches Giles. His face, hidden in a deep cowl, cannot be seen. But his eyes glow yellow .

Also present are a group of other figures similarly dressed in hooded robes. However, their clothing is more earth toned, and their hoods are thrown off their heads, revealing their faces.

Rounding out the group is Angel, standing away from the others. His expression reflects his sour mood.

"You know the situation?" Rupert Giles asks, looking at the others. Looking at the dark mage always has a chilling effect.

"The signs are clear, Rupert, and the portents are in place," Agatha replies. Her stature is tall, and her age is indeterminate. Her auburn hair is streaked with a large vein of silver. Her visage is chiseled, giving her a fierce aspect. That is belied by the kindness in her jade colored eyes. She is obviously the leader of the small group around her. " The time of the apocalypse grows nigh." She frowns a little. "It might've been better to bring us in a while sooner…"

"As I explained to you," Giles says with a weary voice, "it wasn't until recently that I determined what we are facing, or even if there was a true threat." He closes his eyes for a moment, the tenseness and stress overtaking him for a moment. "Even now, if you don't know what to look for, you couldn't tell what is coming…"

"Yes, that is the power of the he who came before," the dark mage says in his slightly sepulchral tone. "I can feel his magics in this place. He is indeed powerful."

"Well, thanks for updating the obvious," Angel says, his tone sarcastic. "The point is, what do we do about it?"

All heads turn his way, and the looks of disgust are plain on most of the faces in the room.

"What is one of his ilk doing here?" The dark mage asks, turning to Giles. "He is one of his creatures…"

"Indeed," Daniel, one of Agatha's followers reaches into his robe, pulling up a knife, "who's to say he isn't spying for the Evil one, anyway? He should be…"

Suddenly, there is a scuffle in the group, and before anyone can move, Angel has moved over, grabbed the knife and has Daniel in a headlock. He whispers softly in the acolyte's ear.

"Indeed, lad, and you are the one that'll be slaying me tonight?" Angel's voice takes on a slight Irish lilt, only presently when he gets angry.

He gently draws the flat of the blade against Daniel's cheek.

"You're gonna have to be faster than that."

Needless to say, Daniel has gone paler than Angel himself.

"That will be enough, vampire," The dark mage waves his fingers, and a bolt of blue energy bursts forth, knocking Angel back and away from Daniel. He winds up on his butt, looking down at the slightly smoking hole in his shirt.

"Well, leave it to you to play with fire, Balthair," Agatha smirks, as her eyes grow cold. "Shoot first, and sort the bodies later…" She walks over to Daniel, who is clearly shaken. "Are you ok?"

"I see, Agatha," Balthair replies, a definite chuckle in his voice. "Still a little angry for that white streak in your hair? Maybe you'll be a bit more careful next time you play with magics you're not familiar with…"

"Ahhh, you want magic, do you, Wizard?" Agatha holds up her hand, and a bright glow starts begins to emanate from her palm. She curls her hand, and cocks her arm back. "Perhaps you'd like something to play with…"

A books suddenly slams on the desk, and everyone suddenly faces a rather flushed looking Giles.

"Isn't what we're facing bad enough without us fighting ourselves?" Giles says tersely. "Or perhaps you all wish to live in a hell dimension?" He looks around the group.

Nothing is said, but a few hostile looks are exchanged. The group comes to the table, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"As for Angel, he's proven himself more than once, so I really don't think I'll need to explain his presence here tonight. We need all the warriors we can get on our side…" He turns to Agatha. "I appreciate you coming, but I was hoping the whole Coven would be here…"

"I left the others back in Devon, working on some spells to try to balance things a little. However, I did bring my strongest members," Agatha pauses for a moment, giving Daniel a somewhat reproving look,"… along with me."

"Yes, well, perhaps that's for the best," Giles moves around the table, going to the end. "However, now that we're gathered, perhaps it's best to discuss how we're going to fight this…"

There is still ill feelings amongst the group; a lot of unsettled business. They stand for a moment, somewhat awkwardly, the tension thick and palpable.

But Giles has the point, and finally, they sit and begin to discuss what to do next.

5

Sooo, exactly what are they up to?

Faith keeps watch on Spike and his paramour as she carefully makes her way closer to the pair. She's not on a search and destroy mission, though Spike ending up in a vacuum somewhere wouldn't exactly upset her, but rather a seek and find… this might be what Giles was talking about. Maybe Blondie will reveal something about what old Cornell is up to… even if I have to cut his toes off one at a time to make him talk…

Moving carefully in the shadows, and keeping downwind, Faith approaches until she's close enough to listen in, then conceals herself behind a handy, large grave marker.

"So where is the bloody wanker, anyway?" Spike grumbles, looking none too pleased to be where they are.

"He's coming, Spike," Drusilla says, her tone sounding a bit distant. Not unusual for her, actually.

"Yeah, you told me that. Point is, when? We've been standing out here for awhile, and I'm not all that happy being made to wait around like some sodding guard dog…"

"Ruff! Ruff!" Drusilla teases him. "Bad doggie. The master will be here, soon enough."

"And would you stop calling him that? He's not my master!"

"Oooo, my boy is all cranky and snappish," Dru grins her patented off balance smile. "Is he going to nip his master? One would think he needs a bone…"

"Well, I need something, " Spike mutters. "The prick interrupted a perfectly good feed to call us out here… and I want to know why…"

"Bark, Bark" Dru starts to sway a bit, her hands snapping in front of Spike's face. " but where's the bite?"

"Knock it off, Dru…" Spike's face goes grim. "I don't like this. Not one little bit. Why did he want to meet us here? Why not in the usual place? What's his game? I don't like…" He looks around, "Being so exposed…"

"What's wrong, pet?" Drusilla coos softly. "Afraid you might meet up with the slayer…?"

"Of course not!" Spike protests, only half convincingly. "I'd kill the bloody bitch if he'd let me, like the other slayers I've knocked off. But he won't let me… he has his own plans for her. And I suspect, there won't be much left to kill when he's done with her… where's the fun there?" He looks around, a little warily. "And since I can't kill the bitch, I'd just as soon not meet up with her…"

Plans? Faith thinks, not at all liking the sound of that. What the hell?

"She might be closer than you think…"

"What do you mean?" Spike suddenly pricks up, a slightly nervous quality to his voice. "What are you going on about, Dru?"

"Just…" Drusilla says, off on a tangent. "She's always around, seeking and searching and looking…"

"Which is why I called you here…" A voice suddenly cuts into their conversation.

Spike and Drusilla, startled, turn to see Cornell suddenly standing with them, seemingly coming out of thin air.

Bloody burke, Spike thinks, feeling his nerves jangled. Wish he'd make a noise once in awhile. These sudden appearances are just…

Faith for her part is also startled. Fuck! Daddy's home! Where the fuck did he come from?

"Inside…" Cornell points at the tomb. "No need to have our little conversation out here in the cold… you never know what little ears might be listening in…"

Cornell turns, almost staring directly at the tombstone Faith is hiding behind.

Shit! Did he spot me? Faith tries to make herself smaller, ducking behind the stone. How the hell does he do that?

"Come along, children…" Cornell starts for the tomb, gesturing to the vampires that they should follow.

"No bleeding good going there. It's locked. I already tried it…"

Cornell gives him a look, and then almost impatiently, waves his hand. The door to the tomb opens, and he enters.

"Are you coming?" His tone sounds impatient. He disappears through the doorway.

Spike start to follow, when he notices Drusilla is standing stock still, a look of wariness on her pale face.

"What?"

"I don't like this, Spike. I feel something bad is in there…" She hesitates.

"Yeah, well, we know the bad already. Just c'mon Dru, " he grabs her arm, pulling her along. "Let's just get this over with…"

Almost dragging her behind, Spike enters the tomb.

Seeing them enter, Faith makes her way to the tomb. She's got to find out what's going on. Even if it fucking kills me… ok, let's not get crazy here…

She moves closer, crouching down by the doors.

* * *

"Come in, come in, " Cornell enjoins the pair of vampires, hesitating by the doorway. He leans against the sarcophagus in the center of the tomb. "You're perfectly safe here, children."

His tone is friendly, almost warm. He waves to a space in front of him.

"Come on now, there's nothing to be afraid of," He gently chides the pair.

Spike, followed reluctantly by Dru, moves to in front of Cornell.

"What makes you think we're afraid?"

"That's the spirit, boy," Cornell nods agreeably. "I've brought you here to simply reward you for your efforts on my behalf." He leans in a little, his smile while broad, seems a little tight. "Indeed, though at times you've been rather less than stellar in accomplishing what I've given you to do, all in all you've served me well. And I feel that deserves some recognition…"

"No need, mate," Spike says, still wary. "Just as long as the blood supply keeps flowing…"

"Oh, there'll be blood. Lots of blood, buckets of blood! And chaos and fighting…" He turns, and smiles at Drusilla. "And parties. I know how you love parties, my dear…" He walks over to her, patting her shoulder. "Lights and music, dancing and flowers…"

"Oooo… and cakes? Pretty little cakes with punch?"

"Absolutely…" Cornell smiles. "All you could ever desire…" He moves back from her. "You two have served me well. Am I am very pleased… but I need to ask you to do me a little something else…"

Here it comes, Spike thinks to himself.

"After all, it's for my daughter. She has such strange ideas… children, you know how they can be…" He looks at the pair, almost sadly. "Well, perhaps not…"

"I have my children!" Dru protests. "My Miss Emily, and Miss Pru…"

"Of course, your dolls," Cornell nods. "But at least they don't ask silly things…" He smiles, almost apologetically." But what's a father to do?" He shrugs.

"What's this about?" Spike asks, his suspicions returning.

"Now, now, dear boy…" Cornell somehow insinuates himself between the pair. "Nothing bad, I assure you. After all, you're my special… well, soldiers, if you must, and I promise, the reward will be most generous. Much more than the effort you expend will be…"

Suddenly, he grabs each by the neck, in an iron grip. He lifts them effortlessly off the ground.

"What the hell!" Spike protests, his legs flailing about as he can't make traction.

"Is this a game?" Drusilla protests, sounding afraid. "I don't like this game. Can we play something else?"

Ignoring their protests, he creates a pair of sharp, large iron hooks, which hang from chains from the ceiling. He hangs each vampire from a hook, taking care to be sure the hooks sink deep into the vampire's backs.

"You fucking bastard!" Spike screams out in pain, writhing about. "What the hell is this?"

Drusilla moans, hanging almost limply from her hook.

"You may come in now, my dears…."

A stone panel slides at the back of the tomb, and a figure enters, moving towards the center. She comes over to Cornell, who has moved off to admire his work.

Another figure stands back, hesitating by the door. She looks less than eager to be here.

"They're perfect," Buffy hisses, looking at the squirming pair.

Cornell notices the hesitation by the other person, and turns to address her. "Now, now, my dear. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're perfectly safe here…"

"What is she doing here?" Spike snarls, the hook digging deeper into his back. He focuses on Buffy, ignoring her companion.

"Oh, dear me. My manners. How rude…" Cornell admonishes himself. "Spike, Drusilla, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Buffy. Buffy, this is Spike and Drusilla…" He waves at the other girl. "… and you already know…"

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the introductions," Spike sputters, trying to wiggle off his hook. "What the hell are you about, anyway?"

"I already know who they are…" Buffy says, examining the pair. "I've seen them around enough, skulking in the garden, spying for Angelus…"

"What? Are you daft?" Spike growls. "I hate that bleeding wimp!" He twists towards Cornell. "God, what's she doing here, anyway? She's one of them, the white hats. She's a bleeding slayer!"

"Yes, well, we all have our peccadilloes…" Cornell chuckles. "Seems my sweet little girl not only is a slayer, but loves to worship the gods. I don't know how that happens… you try to train them out of that nonsense, but there you go…" He grins. "Seems she needs a sacrifice or two for a ritual she's performing. Surely you want to help my little girl, don't you?"

"You fucking bastard! Is this how you fucking repay us?"

"Now, now, Spike my boy…" he goes over, patting the hanging vamp on the chest. "After all, one must make sacrifices, you know. And just think of the rewards on your souls after … oh, dear, that's right, you don't have a soul, do you?"

"I’m going to …" Spike wriggles on his chain.

"What Spike? Get me?" Cornell smiles wickedly.

Spike suddenly yells, as a bolt of pain surges through his body. His scream is joined by his mate's, as Drusilla writhes helplessly on her chain.

"Why're you doing this?" Spike groans, hanging limply from his chain. "We're your soldiers. You just said so! You need us!"

"Need you?" Cornell chuckles chillingly. "You really don't understand anything, do you blood sucker? I've tolerated you and you're less than sane paramour, simply because you could perform some tasks expediently for me… but need you? Hardly. My plans have reached the point of being foolproof… even you and you're whorish slut couldn't wreck them at this juncture. All I need to do now is wait for the proper moment, then I will open the Hellmouth, and bring hell back into this pallid excuse of a dimension. Once again, we shall rule where we belong!"

Faith blanches. Open the Hellmouth? Let in the demons? Fuck! This isn't good at all… gotta get back to Giles, let him know what I've learned…

Faith carefully backs away from the tomb, avoiding making any noise. When she's at a safe distance, she turns and runs, making for the wall.

Gotta let Giles know. He can't trust that blonde bitch anymore. Shit, like he ever shoulda… she's working for Cornell now… and what the hell was that bit about Cornell's plans for me? Crap… I don't even want to know about that one…

Reaching the wall, she quickly hops on top and over, disappearing into the night.

Cornell pauses briefly, staring at the doorway to the tomb. He smiles enigmatically, then turns back to the hanging pair of vampires.

"I've served you well…" Spike protests, "I did every bleeding thing you asked …"

"Rather poorly, I might add," Cornell walks over to him, poking him in the chest. "First there's the fiasco of that attack on the prom. You and that incompetent Aurelius were supposed to just shake things up, distract the slayer. Make her think you and that moron were the reason for the oddities going on in town. Instead, because of your bungling, you nearly destroyed millennia of careful planning. Never mind you nearly got my poor daughter killed by those … blood brained asses you recruited! You are very, very fortunate indeed, Spike, that Cordelia here wasn't harmed…" He turns, and waves at the figure hanging back in the shadows. " Come here, darling girl. Don't be shy. The bad vampires can't hurt you."

Cordelia hesitates a moment, then comes out into the light.

She is dressed in a pure white floor length gown. It would almost make her look virginal, except for the cut of the dress, which does very little to hide her charms, and the fact that the material is gauzy and nearly transparent.

She keeps a wary eye on the vampires as she comes to her father, clinging tightly to his arm.

"You see? She's still afraid of you…" Cornell says, putting a comforting arm about Cordelia's shoulders. "There, there, dear. You needn't worry."

"God, whatta wuss!" Buffy chortles.

"That'll be enough, Buffy. No need to be so mean to your sister. After all, she isn't blessed with your powers…"

"I'm sorry…" Buffy looks down, chastened.

"Touching as all this family bonding is, think we can get back to the subject at hand?" Spike mutters, "And I'd like to point out, that fiasco, as you call it, wasn't my fault! That blood brain, Aurelius, is the idiot that went all berserk on them…"

"Yes, and if you remember, I put YOU there to keep a leash on him. Obviously, that was trusting the stupid to lead the insane…" Cornell says, his tone cold. "Then there's the little matter of nearly killing the slayer. I told you, repeatedly, that I wanted her a little roughed up… and you managed to almost kill her. Do I even need to tell you what a disaster that would've been?"

"Well, frankly, mate, yeah you do. Cuz, seeing what an annoyance she is, can't see why you're so all het up about keeping the bitch alive…"

Cornell walks over, and slaps Spike brutally across the face.

"You stupid mud crawler! You're more stupid than a human! Have you even been paying attention?"

"What the hell was that for?"

"You idiot! If you had killed her, you would've ruined everything! It's her blood I need for the ritual of Opening. She must die, at the right time, but not before. And you, you stupid worm, nearly killed her! You could've ruined my entire plan!" Enraged, he walks over to Spike, and grabs his throat roughly in his hands. "I should end your miserable existence right now…" He begins to squeeze and twist Spikes neck.

"Daddy, please! You promised me…" Buffy speaks up.

Cornell, with an effort of will, stops his hand. A cold, hard smirk comes to his face.

"Of course, my dear, of course," he turns to Spike. "Be glad my child wants you for her ritual, you half breed demon. I should consign you to a hell dimension that would make what's going to happen to you seem like a picnic…" He sighs. "Instead, I'll show you some mercy, as you and that creature you might finally prove useful, even if only for my daughter's little games…"

He waves his hand, binding both vampires. In an instant, both vampires are still, their muscles frozen solid in their bodies.

Only their eyes reveal their torture.

"Just think of it as giving for the greater… well, good is too strong a word, but you get the drift, I'm sure." He turns to Buffy, smiling gently. "There you go, pumpkin. Happy?"

"Yes, daddy," Buffy smiles back. She walks over, running a hand over each. "they're perfect…"

"Well, then, perhaps some appreciation is due? Come give us a kiss…"

Buffy walks over, and wraps her arms around Cornell's neck. The kiss she gives him is anything but daughterly. It goes on for awhile, witnessed by the hanging vampires.

Cornell finally pushes his overly affectionate daughter away, gently patting her on the ass.

"Now be a good girl and go play with your new toys."

Buffy, her face flushed, turns and looks at her gifts. She smiles. The kind of smiles that would chill an ice cube.

"Mmmm…. Well, aren't you two just too… yummy…"

"Buffy dear? Don't you think you should share with your sister?"

Buffy looks at Cornell inquiringly.

"I mean, perhaps she would like to join in. After all, why should you have all the fun?"

Buffy, somewhat reluctantly, turns to her half sister.

"What do you say, sis? Wanna whack at them?"

Buffy reaches down; pulling up her robe, takes a long, sharp and wicked looking knife from a leg sheath. Holding it up, she offers it to Cordelia.

"N-No, that's ok, sis. You go ahead, have fun…" Cordelia looks anything but pleased by the idea of cutting up anything that is still… well, animate.

"Are you sure, darling?" Cornell asks, sounding a bit displeased. "After all, don't you want to help out your sister?"

"Do I have to?" Cordelia whines a little.

"I really should make you, for your own good. After all, you have to learn to be ruthless, my dear…"

Instead, he takes her by the arm. He strokes a finger up and down it, gently, causing chill bumps to rise.

"Perhaps instead, we need another training session."

Cordelia looks a little torn. Much as she doesn't want to play gut the vampires, a 'training session' doesn't exactly appeal, either. She stands there, indecisive.

"Yes, I think that's exactly what you need," Cornell says, the lust evident in his eyes. He grabs her arm, and turns to Buffy. "Carry on, dear. Your sister and I need a little one on one time…"

"Don't I get to play?" Buffy pouts a little, her own libido rising a bit.

"Perhaps after you complete your ritual, you can join us in the 'game' room."

He gently but firmly leads his daughter to the entrance of the tomb. He pauses at the door, and turns back. "Don't forget to clean up after, ok?"

"Sure, daddy," Buffy smiles, watching the two depart. She sighs a little, and turns back to her new toys. She walks over, and stands between them.

"I just don't know who should be first… let's see…" She says in a sing song tone…

She points the knife at Spike.

"Eeeny…"

Then at Drusilla.

"Meeny …"

Back at Spike.

"Minee…"

Once again at Drusilla.

"Mo…"

She pushes out a breath, and makes a slightly impatient face.

"No, that's no good… I think we'll start with the boy…"

She walks over, and holding up the knife, places the point to Spike's chest.

Spike's eyes go wide. He can't even groan.

"Oh, don't worry, vampire. Not gonna kill you… yet…" She smiles winningly. "That wouldn't do. I need the blood of two vampires for my ritual." She gently pushes the knife against Spikes chest, drawing a drop of blood. "That doesn’t mean we can't have some fun though, does it?"

Spike's eyes scream as she pulls the knife down his body.

6

"Well, this has been a glorious waste of time!"

Agatha stands, impatience fighting with anger in her expression.

"We came here to strategize how to fight this… thing; instead it seems most of the fighting is amongst ourselves…" She looks around at the assembly with some asperity. "Doesn't seem to me that we will accomplish much of anything if we continue to squabble amongst ourselves like children over a favorite toy…"

"Maybe if some of us didn't act like they knew everything…" Angel grumbles in his corner.

"I know enough, vampire, not to make this a frontal assault," Agatha declares, glaring at the somewhat reticent Angel. "This isn't one of your little hunting forays, Angel. This is something much more powerful than you're used to dealing with…"

"Indeed it is, "Balthair puts in. "This is an old one, the highest level demon in the Old Order. They were directly below the Hell Gods themselves, and extremely powerful…"

"Well, if he's so strong, why hasn't he just …"

"Because, Angel," Giles puts in," This isn't his world anymore. It's ruled by the Powers that Be. He knows any frontal attack he takes will draw their notice. No, he's long lived, so he's not in any hurry at all…" Giles removes his glasses, cleaning them. "He's planned carefully, and waited for the right moment to strike."

"Remember, vampire, he's bound by the same rules we are…" Balthair turns his yellow tinged gaze upon Angel. "There are prophecies in place, and he has to fulfill his destiny, same as we must."

"Oh, yeah. Right. The 'sacred prophecies'," Angel makes a disparaging noise. "Written in arcane language, what? Thousands of years ago by men whose brains had turned to mush. Yup, that's comforting…"

"Don't disparage the prophets, night creature," Balthair says, his eyes narrowing. "After all, madness lends a great clarity and focus to their visions. They see what others can't or won't see… "

"Right, like flying pigs and dancing Dumbos…" Angel smirks. "But then I guess you'd be the expert, isn't that so, Balthy? I mean, it takes one to know one…"

"Vampire, you're trying my patience…" Balthair curls his hand, which begins to glow.

"Would you all please just STOP??!!" Giles barks impatiently, his anger boiling over. "Agatha is right, you're acting like children…"

"Speaking of children, Giles, where is your slayer?" Agatha turns to him. "The child should be in on this, considering…"

"Considering?" Giles deliberately acts obtuse.

Agatha purses her lips. "Denying the truth won't make it go away, Rupert."

"It's a prophecy, Agatha," Giles counters. "You know as well as I do that prophecies are notoriously vague and inaccurate. It might very well not have anything to do with Faith at all…"

"If that's what you think, Giles, then why isn't she here?" Angel asks, frowning.

"Because I don't think she needs the distraction of what could very well be a false prophecy. Anyway, I have her doing reconnaissance, seeing if she can find out anything about…"

"That's crap, Giles," Angel stands up. "Pure crap! You don't want her here, because you don’t want to tell her…"

"No, I don't want to tell her. Not if there's the possibility of a mistake…"

"There's no mistake, Rupert Giles" Balthair weighs in. He picks up a large tome off the table, and walks over to Giles, putting it in front of him. He points out the relevant passage.

"See for yourself"

Olim , versus ends of dies , illic mos adveho a Proeliator , unus quisnam est electus. Is mos pugna ferreus obviam estus of obscurum ut orior oriri ortus sursum , tamen terminus , is ero haud magis

(At that time, towards the ends of days, there will come a Warrior, the one who is chosen. She will fight hard against the tide of darkness that rises up, but in the end, she will be no more)

Giles' face hardens, even as the color turns pale. He looks up at Balthair, and there isn't gratitude in his eyes.

"It means nothing," Giles murmurs, tight-lipped. "It's been wrong before…"

"The is the Pergamum Codex. You know well it is the most accurate predictor for the Slayer. You know that…"

"I don't know anything!" Giles stands up suddenly, almost sweeping Balthair away from him. He moves away from the table, towards the bookshelves. Almost as if he seeks comfort from amongst the musty volumes.

Balthair begins to pursue him, but Agatha holds up a restraining hand. She goes to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Rupert," She says calmly, almost gently, "you have to tell her. I know it's hard, after what you've been through…"

"That has nothing to do with it," Giles turns to her, his eyes cold and hard, and angry. "Those are just words, written on parchment long ago by a mad man. They mean nothing…"

"Do you really believe that, Rupert?" She asks him, "Do you really?"

"No…" He admits, the pain clear on his face. "but tell me Agatha, please?" He turns to the others. "Any of you, tell me. How do I tell a 16 year old girl that she's going to die? Any ideas?" He looks around. "Any of you?" His face takes on a slightly sarcastic expression. "Maybe I should just say, 'Hello, Faith. You look good. Did you sleep well? How are you doing? Oh, and by the way, you're going to die!"

"Well, that's a start…" A voice comes out of the shadows.

Everyone at the table rises as Faith walks into the light.

Giles looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Faith stands there, looking only at Giles. Her face is pale, like his, and grim. Her lips are tight, and her mouth a gash across her face. Her eyes are hard, almost glittering in the light.

"I'd say it's nice to hear something like the truth around here, except, well, frankly, it's not. So, Giles. When were ya planning on telling me this one? Before I died, maybe?"

"Faith, let me explain…" Giles begins, as he approaches her.

"Whoa up right there, guy. Don't need no explanations, 'k? Cuz, I knew this gig had a short shelf life when I … well, signed on isn't exactly right, right? Chosen, whatever… I knew I wasn't going for the fat and happy grandkids routine. Got that… " She glares at him across the room, still ignoring the others. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long?"

"I don't know. It doesn't say when you're supposed to die…"

"NO! I mean, how long have you known? An hour? A day? A week… month…?"

"Faith, maybe you should calm down…" Angel moves towards her.

"Shut up, Angel. This isn't about you. You're already dead…" She turns back to Giles. "How the FUCK long?"

"I don't think that kind of language is necessary, child…" Agatha intervenes.

"And I don't think it's the fuck your business, grandma, so back off…" Faith moves to Giles, her look less than friendly. "HOW THE FUCK LONG?"

She stops suddenly, bouncing back a little, as if hitting a wall. She reaches out, and touches the air.

"Sweet…" She looks at Agatha, then at the others, one by one. "Ok, which of you is doing this?"

She suddenly punches the wall, in anger. Then she quickly starts shaking her hand.

"SHIT!" She waves her hand.

"Perhaps you'll remember to respect your elders in the future, girl," Agatha says quietly.

"Future? What future? Were you listening, grandma?" Faith turns to Giles. "Are you going to answer me, or not?"

"A few days…" Giles says, not looking at her directly.

"A few days…" Faith repeats to herself, then looks up at Giles. "So, another secret, huh, Giles? Like the ones you've been keeping from me so far? And what about this meeting that wasn't supposed to happen…" She looks around at the assembly and smirks. "Of course, if this is your idea of friends, maybe I can see why you keep them a secret…"

"That's enough from you…" Agatha starts to raise her hand again.

She doesn't get to finish. Faith is on her, faster than a heartbeat, holding her wrist.

"Listen, witch lady, you got me the last time, cuz I didn't see it coming. But don't think…" She squeezes firmly, just enough to hurt, "… that you can just keep screwing with me, ok?"

Agatha frowns at her a moment, feeling as if her arm is caught in a vise. Then she smiles a tight smile, almost reluctantly.

"Feisty, aren't you?" She says, slightly amused. "So, shall we call a truce?"

Faith stares at her a moment, the releases her wrist. "Good by me, sister."

Faith turns, and looks over at Giles.

"So, what else aren't ya telling me, Giles?" She waits a beat for a response, and not getting one, walks towards him. "Sorry, didn't hear you? What's wrong, Giles? Cat got your tongue? What else should I know that you're not telling me?"

She is next to Giles now, the anger rolling off her in waves.

Giles, looking embarrassed and a little cowed, steps back a step.

"There's nothing more."

"Really? Cuz, I'm not sure iffen I'm trusting you here, Giles," Faith says, leaning in a little. "You're my watcher. You're the one I'm supposed to be able to trust, you know, with my life! And suddenly, I'm getting nothing but stonewalls here, and frankly, I'm not loving it."

"It's not that simple here, Faith. We're at war. I can't tell you everything as it comes along. You have to trust me that I'll tell you all eventually…"

"Oh? Ok, so that's going to be sometime before I get myself killed them… cuz after, not gonna help a whole bunch…"

"Faith!" Giles sounds shocked. "You've got to understand. It's not…"

"Don't even, Giles. Frankly, right now? I don't wanna hear it. Frankly, I don't wanna be here…" She turns, and starts to walk away. "Cuz, you know? Not liking the feeling I'm getting around here anymore…"

She heads towards the door, and stops. For a moment, she just stands there, seemingly to be debating with herself. Finally, she turns around.

"Giles?"

"Faith?"

"Look, I wasn't going to tell you, cuz of the little nuke you dropped on me here tonight, but …" she seems to be struggling internally. "… I was patrolling the graveyard, and I came across Spike and that bitch vamp he hangs with, and guess who?"

"I'm sorry? Guess who? I'm supposed to guess?"

"No, it's an expression… never mind, with Blondie. You know, the girl who swears she's the other slayer? Well, she was doing her job in a way, I suppose…"

"I'm sorry, I'm not following you?"

"I mean, she had them, and well… aw, fuck me, they were hanging by hooks, and guess who was there, helping her?

"I'm sorry, I'm not good at this. Couldn't you just tell me?"

"Mr. Wonderful himself…"

"Who?" Agatha asks, puzzled.

"Cornell… you know, the big bad? That guy?"

"He was there… with … did you say another slayer?" She turns to Giles. "What is she talking about? Another slayer?"

"It's a long, complicated story, Agatha…" Giles begins.

"I tripped, hit my head, died for a minute, and she was called," Faith sums it up.

"That evidently isn't that long, or complicated," Giles says, dryly.

"Another slayer?" Agatha repeats. "I'm rather confused, Giles. You didn't tell me about another slayer…"

"Well, seems like I'm not the only one out of the loop, eh?" Faith says sarcastically. "Point being, I think that blonde psycho is working with Cornell…" She stops, her lips tightening. "And there's more… a lot more… Cornell plans on opening the Hellmouth!"

"Are you sure? She's working with him, helping him with his plans?" Giles looks a little sick.

"It's just like in the prophecy…" Agatha contends.

"This is NOT good news," Balthair says, his tone sepulchral. "Another slayer, evidently rogue, working for our enemy. Why weren't we informed of this?"

"Back off, hood boy. We didn't know, ok? I mean, she wasn't too much in the sanity camp, but until tonight, we thought more or less she was on our side…"

"This changes things, Rupert," Agatha interjects. "I think we need to discuss this new … surprise, and rethink our plans…" She turns to Faith, a small smile on her face. "Will you be joining us?"

"Er… no…" Faith says, holding up her hands. "Frankly, after my own little bit of news, I think I need some fresh air…" she backs away towards the door. "A lot of it."

"You should stay, girl," Balthair says firmly. "This concerns you."

"And that makes a difference… why?" She looks at the group. "You seemed good discussing me without me before…" She looks pointedly at Giles. "And frankly, I really don't want to be here right now…"

"Faith, please, I'm sorry, I just wanted to be sure…" Giles starts to go to her.

"Thanks, but, no thanks, ok? Really, I'm… aw fuck, I just need to get the fuck OUTTA here…"

Without another word, she turns and almost runs out.

Angel starts to follow.

"Where are you going?" Giles asks.

"To follow her. Watch over her… right now? I don't think she's all that safe alone…"

"If she catches you…"

"She won't, Giles," Angel says, disappearing out the library doors.

"I for one, am glad he's gone," David, Agatha's acolyte speaks up. "Frankly, having his kind around here makes me want to …."

"That will be enough, David," Agatha cuts him off. "Sit down, Rupert. We have a lot to talk about."

Giles sighs, staring at the door Faith and Angel took. Wishing for a moment he could follow. Right, Rupert. And if you actually caught up to her? What then?

It's going to be a long night.

7

She sits quietly in the dark place, her eyes closed, breath controlled.

Before her is a single candle, thick, dark in color casting the only illumination in the room. Next to it sits a small brazier, filled with aromatic herbs, smoldering under a flameless fire; filling the room with an earthy perfume. Between them is a chalice, plain in aspect, containing a generous quantity of a dark crimson colored viscous liquid.

As if in a dream, she dips her fingers into the chalice, bringing them to her lips. She sucks on them, almost absently. A rather unpleasant expression comes over her face. She then dips them again, and anoints herself with the liquid: a spot on her forehead, stripes on her cheeks, and a splotch on her nose and chin. She then brings her hands together before her; fingers steepled, palms flat. She lowers her head, bringing the tips of her fingers in contact with her forehead. She chants a slow, melodic tune quietly, almost as if to herself.

She prays to Nemesis, goddess of the vengeance for guidance and concentration.

"Nemesis, Goddess of vengeance, I beseech thee. I put before you the sacrifice you ask, the blood of mine enemies. I pray to thee, most holy one, to grant me my boon.

Lifting the chalice high, she offers it up to the goddess. She then tilts it, allowing the blood to slowly drip over the flame of the candle.

She knows her goal. She can taste it on her tongue, smell it in her nostrils. Her heart beats its rhythm, and her is on fire with its consummation.

She must kill them, both of them. The vampire, and his demon bitch. To gain the vengeance she seeks, the peace she requires.

Slowly, her eyes open. They are bloodshot; the whites have nearly disappeared into the red of the blood vessels surrounding the iris, which glitter like dark gems in the candlelight. They are hard, sharp and troubled.

I had them, I almost had them… she thinks to herself, her mouth turned down into a deep scowl. The night that bastard killed Merrick, I could've… should've killed them. Would've, if that demon bitch had just stayed down…

Buffy feels the frustration; the rage of denial of justice. Her Justice. Merrick's Justice. Billy's justice.

Blood for blood, death for death. That's the only way. Yet, when she had it right there, in her grasp, it slipped away from her.

It's been nearly a week since that night, though she's unaware of the time. It's all the same to her, a minute, an hour, days, weeks have no meaning now. She's gone into hiding, to regroup, to plan, to think. She needs answers.

She closes her eyes, inhaling the sustaining smoke from the brazier.

I am thy vessel, O Nemesis. I am thy sword, thy instrument to balance the scales, to right the wrongs done by these monsters. Why, O Goddess, why have you denied me? Denied me the justice I so richly deserve?

Something stirs in her heart. Something she hates, something troubling.

Doubt.

Am I unworthy? Do I not deserve this boon from thee, O Goddess?

Something troubles her. Doesn't make sense. Doesn't add up with what she knows.

They had her. They bound her and tied her. They locked her in that tomb. That demon bitch? Whatta punch! She knocked me out good… yet, for all that, they let her live.

Why?

They could've killed me. I was out, I couldn't fight them. They could've torn me to bits, left me for the crows to munch on. But they didn't. They let me live! Why? They knew I would hunt them, seek them out, destroy them.

They're evil. They're heartless. WHY DIDN'T THEY KILL ME?

More doubts creep in, confusing her.

Am I wrong? Do I have it wrong? Maybe they're not what I think…

NO! Merrick told me, showed me Billy's body. Told me about her, the false slayer, that changeling demon taking her place. I saw HIS body, with that monster's mark on him. NO! I'm not wrong… I'm not wrong…

But what if I am? What if…

"Don't wimp out on me now, Summers"

Buffy, startled by the voice, looks up and sees Ford.

He's not like that night; that awful night in her bedroom where he looked like he walked out of his grave. Corrupted and bloated, flesh peeling off him.

He looks like when he was alive. Whole, fresh, young.

But he's frowning.

"Billy?" She whispers, a thrill of excitement and fear going through her. She struggles to get up, but her legs feel weak, like water. " Billy?" She repeats.

"Shhh… don't, stay there…" He walks over to her, calmly. He kneels by her, and suddenly his face lights up in a grin. "Looking hot as always, babe"

"Billy!" She sighs, her heart suddenly feeling warm. As if suddenly coming alive again. She reaches out to touch him, but hesitates. "But… you're …."

"Dead? Yeah, that sucks. But I'm here for you, now. Because you need me…"

"God, Billy," She suddenly scrambles to her feet. She grabs him, holding him close. "I always need you! I miss you so much!" She feels her eyes grow hot, and the tears start to course down her face. She doesn't care. He's here!

Billy gently pushes her away, and cups her face in his hands.

"I can't stay, Buffy. I don't belong here anymore…"

"But… I need you! I want you! You can't leave me! Not AGAIN!"

She reaches out to grab him again, but her arms go through him. She notices then, that he's changed. He no longer seems so solid, and he's taken on a glow.

"Nooo! You can't, you can't leave me again!" She cries out, all the hurt and pain hitting her like a giant fist. She reels back, her body shaking. "It isn't right! It's not fair!"

"No, it's not," Ford agrees, his expression sad. "It sucks! But it's reality, Buffy. I'm dead, and there's no changing that…"

Even though the rest of him seems insubstantial, his hands retain some solidity. He gently strokes her hair.

"I miss you," Ford says softly.

Buffy, lip trembling, says nothing. She just stares at him, as if consuming him with her eyes.

"Why?" She says finally, breaking away. She holds herself, feeling cold. "Why did you come back? To make me suffer more? Well, it's working. Really good."

"No…" Ford approaches her, but stops when she moves away. "I was sent here, Buffy. Because you have doubts. You can't do that, Buffy. You're thinking too much about this. It's right, you know in your heart it's right."

"It doesn't make sense," She says, almost to herself. "They could've killed me. They had the chance. Why didn't they kill me?"

"Why should they?" Another voice comes out of the darkness.

Merrick appears out of the darkness, a stern expression on his face. He too appears as in life, not a mark upon him.

"Why should they even bother?" Merrick's voice is harsh, unforgiving. "Look at you! Hiding in some cave, cowering away. Questioning everything I taught you!"

"N-No… that's not true!" Buffy replies, accepting him being there without question. "I… I came here to concentrate. To focus. To pray…"

"Liar!"

Buffy recoils from the stinging slap as his hand crosses her face.

"You coward! You got beaten by that vampire and his demon, and you hide away, quivering in fear, afraid to confront them. Where's your warrior heart? You're the chosen one! This is your destiny. Yet look at you…" He shakes his head with disgust. "At the first sign of trouble, you retreat. You become a weeping, sniveling baby!"

"N-N-NO! You're… you're wrong…"

"Gotta say, Summers. Kind of chicken of you to hide out here, while those… things… that killed me wander around, free as you please, laughing at you, " Billy's face grows hard. "God, I thought you were special! I thought NOTHING scared you. Was I wrong…"

"No… Billy, no, I …."

"Shut up, you weak little nothing!" Merrick yells at her. "Where's our vengeance?! I showed you what that monster did to Billy. You saw what he did to me!"

Suddenly his cheek glows, and the gaping wound reappears, the inverted cross. His skin goes loose and pale, and his eyes seem to sink into his skull. His lips draw back into a rictus of death.

"I'm dead, because of him! I'll know no peace, until you kill him. Him and that bitch he has with him! They killed me, and you cower in a cave…"

Buffy gasps, and turns, only to almost choke.

Ford has changed. His skin is the color of a fish's belly, and hangs loose and rotting off his bones. His eyes glow a sickly yellow in his skull, and his clothes are tatters. She can see the death beetles, the maggots and the worms crawling in and out of various holes and gaps in his body.

"Nooo" She cries, her stomach churning as Billy approaches her.

"What's wrong, Buff? Aren't I pretty anymore?" He grins, his skeletal hand grabbing his arm. "Don't ya wanna fuck me anymore? I mean, I can't rest… so why not on last fuck? For old times sake, huh?"

There's a sudden stirring in the ruins of his pants, and Buffy almost screams when a large snake slithers out where his zipper used to be. She shakes him off, backing away from the monstrosity in front of her.

Only to run into Merrick's corpse, who is now behind her. It grabs her, holding her in place.

"What's wrong, Buffy? Don't you want him? How about me? We could have some nice times…"

She feels his cold, dead hand slipping over her shirt.

"NOOOOO!"

"No peace without justice, Buffy!" Merrick hisses in her ear.

"Kill them, Buffy. Avenge me!" Ford, his voice sounding dead, grabs her other arm. "It's only right. It's only fair!"

"No peace!';

"Justice!"

"VENGEANCE!"

Buffy feels herself being crushed between the two, and her mind goes black.

She starts up, her eyes flying open.

She's still sitting before the candle, her legs crossed in front of her. She stares at the candle, shivering.

The smell of death and rotting meat is still in her nostrils.

She feels another shiver pass through her, as the webs of her vision or dream slowly fade from her mind.

They leave something behind.

Something dark, but powerful. Sure and strong. Without thought, without remorse.

Hate, pure hate.

She feels it coursing through her, hot like blackened blood. She smiles. It's feels powerful, it feels sure.

It feels good.

Her face hardens into a mask. She knows now what must be done. She feels a new sense of purpose and resolve.

All doubt is gone, all questions have been answered. She knows what she must do.

They have to die. At her hand. Soon.

She unfolds her legs, and pushes up off the floor, ready to go. She has much to do, and not much longer to do it.

That's when she feels it.

Her right hand touches something cold and hard by her. Looking down, she picks it up off the floor.

It's a knife, but longer than any knife she knows. The handle is ebony, craved and filigreed with gold. There are various mystic symbols carved in it, and it is studded by four matching star sapphires on the pommel.

It's the blade, however, that draws her eye.

It is long, longer than the average blade, yet not long enough to be a sword. It is sharp on both edges, and comes to a point at the tip.

And it is blood red.

She can almost feel a pulse out of it, and it seems to hum in her hand. It calls out to her, talks to her in a language she can't understand, but still responds to.

Going to the brazier, she kneels before it. She takes the knife, and drawing it lightly across her palm, opens a cut.

She allows the blood to drip into the smoldering ash, and she smiles wickedly.

Standing, she stands erect. Her posture screams renewed energy and confidence.

She turns, and disappears into the darkness.
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The Slayer