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Everything Is Different Now	By : Declan Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Buffy/Faith Views: 7516 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer Television Series. Joss Whedon does. This is done for simple fun, I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
The I In Psychopath: Part 1 (As You Were)

Stenwick blinked groggily as he was slapped awake.
“Rise and shine, sonny.” He heard somebody say. A deep voice that sounded British and disturbingly cheery.
He shook his head, his mind hazily trying to recall what he’d been doing. He couldn’t remember much, just talking with Lawson, the events at the mansion, somebody appearing in front of him wearing a... cloak?
A harder slap knocked those thoughts from him. He blinked in the dimness of the room, some sort of utility shed. Concrete walls and floor, the outlines of work benches covered in tools. A metal fire door. He saw a man standing in front of him, tough-looking, maybe some criminal type or ex-military.
Stenwick realised that he was tied to a chair, and his hands were bound behind him. He felt sweat break out on the nape of his neck and instinctively began testing his bonds.
“Wha…?” He managed to croak.
“Right. Now that you’re awake,” The man in front of him leaned forward to catch his eye. “You’re a hostage my son, make no mistake. But, if you tell us what we need to know, then there’s no reason why we can’t all part as friends, you understand?”
Stenwick swallowed and tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re making a big mistake. Whoever you are, people know that I’m missing, and they’ll come looking for me-”
“Right, which is why we need to get all this done sharpish, glad we’re on the same page.” The man replied briskly, lighting a cigarette. “Now, how it works is this, you and I have a nice little chat about your bosses, what they’re doing and where the property is that they stole from us. We’ll both be nice and civil to each other,” He puffed out a cloud of smoke, “But if you try to tell porkies...lie t’me that is, then I turn you over to my friend here while I go and have a nice lie down.”
The man gestured to another man who sat on a chair a few feet away, his back against the wall. The second man stared at Stenwick with a cold, unflinching gaze.
“My friend isn’t much for conversation, but he does have some particularly useful talents, ways of keeping himself entertained. But he won’t ask any you questions, he won’t care what you say or how loud you say it. He’ll just keep himself busy until he gets bored, and then he’ll come and fetch me.” The man gave Stenwick a piercing stare, “We clear?”
‘So, they want to know about the Initiative. And the slayer. That meant they were a rival organisation of some kind, not criminals. But definitely ex-military.’
Stenwick felt a little trepidation at his prospects. He squashed the feeling down. Resistance to interrogation was part of his training.
He nodded at the man in understanding. In return he got a genial nod and a smile.
“Right then, an easy one first off. Who is it you work for, and where are you located?”
Stenwick licked his lips and recited his cover in his most convincing voice. “I’m with a marine recon unit out of Camp Pendleton; currently we’re based in training camp just north of Los Angeles.”
The man took this is for a moment, before nodding in satisfaction. “And what interest do you have with the slayer?”
Stenwick hid his relief with a frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But we are working in partnership with the state authorities. There was an extremely dangerous criminal on the loose who exhibited,” he shook his head as though confused, “Training of some sort. There was intelligence leading to suggest something about a terrorist cell, so we were called in. I’m unaware if the mission to capture them was successful.”
The man nodded and considered this in silence for a moment. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his boot. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me in an hour.”
He nodded to his seated colleague and exited through the fire door without looking back. The door closed with a loud clang.
The other man said nothing, just smiled grimly as he stood up and stepped deeper into the shadows, Stenwick heard the clatter of moving tools. He knew it was best to stay quiet, not show his nerves. He wondered what they would use on him. A beating to soften him up, probably. He could take that. Maybe electricity, that was a favourite by some of the more old-fashioned professional interrogators, but he didn’t see a set-up like that down here, so maybe something sharp then...
Then he heard a soft hissing sound and a whoosh, like a Bunsen burner. He saw the man walk out of the shadows towards him, wearing a metal faceplate strapped to his head.
In his hands he held a lit blowtorch.

*~~*

Doctor Walsh thought for a few moments before reaching up and switching off the monitors. The whole process had been surprisingly easy to watch. It seemed Buffy’s death had been quick, perhaps even relatively painless, at least for somebody in her line of work.
But now came the hard part, dealing with Riley.
As if on cue, maybe somehow drawn out by her tinge of guilt, Riley busily walked across the forecourt towards her, looking a little shaken.
Riley shook his head and sighed. “Ma’am, I’m reporting an attempted breakout by the rogue slayer. We managed to bring her down with multiple tranqs but not before she put two of my squad in the infirmary with busted ribs. Dr. Angleman’s transferring her to more secure holding but I thought you’d-”
She braced herself before making her voice sound as distraught as possible. “Riley. Something’s happened. I... I don’t know what to say. It’s... it’s about Buffy.” She hesitated moving closer to him, regarding him with sympathy.
There was a trace of concern in Riley‘s voice. “Buffy?”
She ploughed on, getting the story out as quickly as possible. “Two of our hostiles broke free and escaped into the tunnels. She went after them on her own.”
She fixed on him intently, “She’s gone Riley.”
Riley blinked. The blood drained from his face. He shook his head slightly, his eyes unfocused. “W-what?”
He reeled from the news but Walsh kept on talking. “I did everything I could to stop her. Told her to wait for a back-up team. She kept insisting she didn’t need any team, she could handle it by herself.”
Riley was swallowing compulsively, his face slack with anguish.
She resisted the urge to comfort him. It wasn’t her place, and would be out of character. “I’m very sorry.”
He shook his head, clearly in shock. “I don’t understand.”
Her voice was soft with sympathy. “I know what she meant to you.”
His voice overrode hers in distress and confusion. “How could this happen?”
“She was a very, special girl. I didn’t understand at first... but she had something. I don’t know, maybe I could’ve stopped her. It’s hard not to blame myself, but...” She looked at Riley, “I promise you Riley, that these hostiles will be neutralised with extreme prejudice.”
He hadn’t seemed to be listening until Walsh had spoken about finding the hostiles. He looked at her, jaws clenched. “I want on that team.”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. Riley, I’m sorry, I can’t allow that...”
“The hell you can’t!” He growled, “You should’ve told me. I-I’m standing there babysitting some psychopath while Buffy is out there...I should’ve been told....I can’t believe...I.” And then his anger subsided into grief again, he shook his head, his lips quivering as he exhaled slow, shaky breaths.
She tried to get him to focus. “Agent Finn, you’re in no shape whatsoever to be leading a squad against these two hostiles. But trust in the fact that, as of this moment, I will use all the available manpower to terminate them.”
“Manpower...” Riley muttered under his breath, softly and sadly, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Walsh softened her voice again, now that that Riley seemed to have calmed. “The best thing you can do now Riley, is take some time and grieve for her. I’ll call when I have more news, but you should consider yourself relieved of duty, effective immediately.”Walsh stepped neared and caught his gaze again, “Trust me, Riley. Trust that I am right, and by tomorrow we’ll have put a stop to this.”
Leaving him still distressed, she walked briskly towards the containment area, if Angleman hadn’t been distracted by the escaping girl, he might now be aware of the exact location of the two tamed hostiles, and she needed to see that they were returned immediately.
She found him instructing three medical technicians as the strapped the unconscious dark-haired girl securely to a gurney. A few shards of broken glass and a couple of blood smears on the walls were the only things to indicate the girl’s brutal escape attempt. “Dr. Angleman, a word if you please.”
Angleman nodded before speaking quickly to the gathered men. “Transfer her to testing lab 301, I’ll be there momentarily.” With that he turned to Walsh and glanced down at her chart, “The girl is truly remarkable, her metabolism burns through the drugs at an astonishing rate, so I’ve had to up the dosage by 70 percent.”
She took all this in and stored it at the back of her mind for later. “And what about our pets? Where are they now, Doctor?”
“This way,” They both walked through a nearby door and down an adjoining corridor to one of the smaller lab areas where a bank of computers was set up.
Angleman gazed at a few blips on one of the screens before pointing at one. “There, one of the chips is still moving...but it’s heading in the wrong direction,” He walked over and tapped a short command on the keyboard, “And also not responding to the basic homing commands. Strange.”
She frowned. “Only one of the hostiles is moving.”
Angleman pointed to the other blip. “The other is stationary at the ambush site; I suspect the slayer may have had something to do with disabling it.”
She thought back to what she’d seen streaming from the com-cam. “But one of them is still active?”
Angleman nodded. “And easily traceable. What do you recommend?”
“We send somebody to discreetly clean up the ambush site. Have them retrieve the com-cam equipment and dispose of the corpses. We send a second, five man squad, to deal with the remaining hostile if the chip has stopped working.”
She regarded Angleman coolly. “And I’m wondering why that is doctor?”
Angleman tried not to look too defensive. “Control chips are still in latest test phases, not all the kinks have been ironed out yet. Add to that battling with the slayer... perhaps the chip overloaded somehow. I’ll be able to collate a better theory after the subject has been returned for further study. Still, a field test was inevitable at some stage.
Angleman frowned in concern, “How is Agent Finn, by the way.”
“Grieving, as is to be expected.” Walsh said coolly as she moved over to the peer at the screen more closely. The blip moved northeast through the sewers, turning every so often. “Young love never lasts, Doctor. And a girl like that, well, she isn’t like us.”
Angleman cleared his throat and asked. “That brings us to the Lehane girl. What are we going to do with her?”
“I’m working on that, but I have to look over her files first.”
“She’s another risk.” Angleman warned
“She’s in our custody, to do with as we see fit. As risks go its minimal.” Walsh pondered thoughtfully for a moment, “Have Lawson attend to the clean up, and have him look for anything amiss.”
“Amiss?”
She nodded absently, “Just to be certain. I don’t like surprises.”

*~~*

Buffy stopped at the sewer junction and looked back over her shoulder, checking to see that the few droplets of blood she had left were clearly visible against the brickwork of the tunnel. She placed the axe down, leaning it gently against the wall, and then she squeezed her cut hand a few times, shaking it and flexed her fingers to make more blood flow from the deep cut, wincing as she did so.
She pressed her sleeve tight against the wound, made sure the material of her blouse was soaked in it before rubbing her bloody sleeve along one of the more visible pipes that lined the tunnel walls at shoulder height.
‘Voila’. Trail says that the demon went right, trailing my horribly mutilated corpse along with it.’
She hefted the severed demon head in her left hand so she could stare at it. “How could you, you beastly thing, you.”
‘Okay, that was a little nuts, even for me. But, then again this whole situation is pretty nuts.’
Her plan, such as it was, had involved taking the axe from the electrocuted demon, then hacking up its corpse and dumped all the limbs and the torso down a nearby waste pipe, with a little shoving and slayer strength they had dropped down into some lower sewer level.
That meant that when Walsh sent somebody to check up on Buffy’s ‘brave last stand’, they would find one dead demon, another missing demon and a human blood trail, something they could track.
Yucky waste disposal led to logical conclusion; Buffy was dead, the equivalent of monster fast food.
Needless to say, after doing all that and wading through a couple of nasty sections of collapsing sewer, her pants and blouse were totally ruined. Bloodied, slimed and smelly. If it were possible she might actually hate Walsh even more now than she did before.
Buffy had taken the demon’s head because she figured that if the Initiative let demons with control chips out into the field then they’d probably have a tracker of some kind, hence her currently doing the Hellmouth version of Hamlet. The Initiative could track down the chip and busily chase their tails while they were at it.
She hoped that the ruse would be enough to draw Walsh’s attention North, to where Buffy knew that the older sewer tunnels became more tangled and harder to navigate, meeting up with some natural cave formations and a couple of sink holes. She intended to go another half mile along a winding path, before dumping the head and doubling back to Giles’ place. Time to give the gang a major update.
She needed some other brains on this. Why the hell would Professor Walsh try and kill her? It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t a threat, so what had changed all of a sudden?
Buffy felt that if she got her friends together they might come up with some theories, plus maybe warning them all, might just save her from the chorus of ‘I told you so’s’ she knew she had coming.
She blamed Riley blindness for that.
Riley.
Next stop, after the gang, was to find and tell Riley that she wasn’t actually all that dead, then somehow convince him of what Maggie had done, and then get him to help her break Faith out of the lair of his secret government masters.
Maybe the beheading plan wasn’t the craziest thing she was going to try today. But she needed Riley to know that she was okay, and desperately needed his help to get Faith to safety.
Still wincing at her cut hand, she took the right hand tunnel. Picking up and scraping the axe head against the stonework to create a mark, in case they missed the blood trail.
That done she made her way deeper into the sewers.

*~~*

Faith snapped awake, sitting upright so fast it made her head swim. She clutched the sides of her head as she felt a wave of tingling dizziness pulse through her, but it soon passed. She figured she must be getting pretty good at kicking all that junk out of her system.
Faith opened her eyes slowly to find herself in yet another strange medical place, although this one was nicer that the last, and bigger too. Didn’t look like much of a cell either.
‘Man, I think I’m getting used to the whole waking up in a weird place thing.’
She was lying on a simple cot stuck in one corner of what seemed like a laboratory. There were a couple of desks across from her, and a computer sitting on one of them. In the centre of the room there were several long lab benches with medical gizmo’s on them and one of those hospital privacy screens was stuffed in another corner.
On one of the tables were her clothes, all neatly folded in a pile next to her boots. Faith cautiously swung herself off of the cot and stood up. There was less pain this time. Her back still throbbed as did the whole of her left thigh, but that was it, everything else was running smoothly.
Whoever these people were, they hadn’t put her in cuffs, which would’ve been the smart play after the display she put on. Maybe they weren’t worried about her escaping from wherever the hell they were keeping her.
She glanced around the room again, no interrogation windows this time, just one solid looking door and a couple of security cameras.
‘Okay, so medical stuff, plus army, plus secret complex meant... secret men-in-black types? So, what, Buffy’s a government employee now? Figures. Always was a good little girl, following the rules and feeling the burn of all her righteous responsible-ness.’
Faith glowered at the unblinking stare of the cameras before wandering over to the table with her clothes on it. They were all there, so she figured, what the hell, getting out of somebody else’s duds was fine with her.
She paused to give one of the cameras a knowing smile and a wink before pulling off her top and tossing it to the side, stepping out of the drawstring pants and kicking them across the floor. Taking her sweet time she put on her clothes all over again, going back over to the bed to finish putting on her boots.
She’d just finished tying her laces when the door opened and a woman in a lab coat walked in.
Alone.
She glanced in her direction and then down at the clipboard in her hand as she closed the door behind her. Under her other arm she carried a bundle of files.
The woman was older, maybe fifties, with butch hair and a stern, hatchet face, wearing a pretty severe expression, like a warden in a women’s prison.
But when she spoke her voice was direct, her tone almost friendly. “Good Afternoon, Faith. My name is Professor Walsh, and we have a lot to talk about.”

*~~*

A figure materialised in the warehouse just as the light outside was beginning to fade. Its journey to the Initiative had been fruitful. Going unobserved amongst those who thought they could not be overheard was always so. And having access to any room, every password typed into a computer, every muttered codeword, had made the task simplicity itself. The figure had used one of the central computers to send an immediate order, with all the right military phrasing and codeword’s, to one of the Initiative’s other facilities. It was a holding facility in Nevada, and the order had been for a prisoner transfer.
When the order had been confirmed by the person on the other end, the figure had made its way back to the Watcher’s men to see how they were faring.
All was as expected.
The one who called himself Collins walked out of the back room, noticed who was there, and walked on over. “He’s quite chatty once we got going. Managed to get a lot of information on these Initiative fellas.” Collins shook his head in disbelief, “Their base is under a bleedin’ fraternity for Christ’s sake.”
The figure was dryly amused as the old soldier’s indignation. “It’s not somewhere one would easily guess. Anything else?”
“Number of staff, scientists and soldiers. General lay-out and security codes, not that that will do much good against fancy bollocks like retinal scans and voice ID. It’ll be a bugger to infiltrate.”
And now came the snare. “That won’t be necessary, in three days time the Initiative will be transporting the slayer offsite. There is a detention facility in the Nevada desert where she will be kept for further study. “The figure stepped past Collins towards the back of the warehouse. “I know where and when the prisoner transfer will take place and I will inform you of it... for a price.”
Collins scowled. “Oh? What price would this be?”
With one hand the figure gestured lazily to the back door. “The man through there, I am correct in thinking that after all those... conversations that he is not long for this world?”
Collins nodded thoughtfully. “Told the lad we would part as friends.” He shrugged, “Then again, I got plenty of dead friends.”
The figure nodded in understanding. “You will return him to me; I have need of his remains. And do not ask what that might be, simply know that it is important that the Initiative remain... preoccupied for the time being.”
Collins was clearly suspicious, but also had his orders. “Fine. Do what you want. But in three days you lead us to this right time and place. We fetch the slayer and then we’re done, you understand.”
The figure nodded in agreement. “Agreed. After that our partnership will come to an end.”

*~~*

Faith stood and sized up the other woman. “We do, huh? What do we gotta talk about?” Faith tilted her head and walked closer, “Professor, huh? Let me guess, your some kinda ‘councillor’ shrink type come to give me the once over. Dangerous chick like me you thought they woulda put me in cuffs, or maybe in one of those cages like Hannibal Lector got.” She made a show of flexing her fingers.
The other woman didn’t even blink. “Whatever your initial impressions might be, Faith, you’re not a prisoner here. In fact, I’m here to discuss the terms of your release.”
She pulled one of the chairs out from under a desk, and gestured to the other one. “Now, if you’re done posturing, please have a seat.”
Faith looked at the woman warily. “Release? What’s up with that? First you guys stick me in a padded cell surrounded by jarheads and now, what, I’m getting paroled?”
The woman, now sitting relaxed next to the desk again glanced down at her clipboard. “We were misinformed about you from the start, which is what led to your capture and detention. It seems that Miss Summers had a personal vendetta against you, and she saw fit to involve us in it.”
Faith frowned hard at that. “And who the hell is ‘us’? “
“We’re a special branch of the government, that’s involved in similar work to that of the slayer. Here, at our facility, we combat and neutralise hostile threats to humanity.” The woman looked Faith over for the first time, “Recently we’ve come into contact with the slayer.”
Faith took all this is as she looked around the room suspiciously. “So... where are we? Is this like, area fifty one or somethin’?”
The woman smiled dryly. “Actually, we’re not far from Sunnydale. This facility is where we contain and analyse the immediate sub-terrestrial threat.”
Faith crossed her arms. “Sub-what now?”
“What you call... demons, we look on them as animals, it’s more rational. And scientific.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” Faith sauntered over to one of the chairs, pulled it out and sat down, sticking her feet up on the desk. She caught the slight frown from the older woman but ignored it. “So, it was your boys shot me down, huh? On Buffy’s say so?”
“Unfortunately yes.” Professor Walsh put her clipboard to one side and put her hands on the table. “You must understand that Miss Summers was a great asset to begin with. Of course during our research we had heard talk of the Slayer, but naturally were sceptical.” She raised her eyebrows as if in wonderment, “She made a very strong first impression, and so naturally we were inclined to take her word at face value.”
Faith straightened up slightly. “Whaddya mean ‘to begin with?’”
“That doesn’t concern you. These, however, do.” The professor slid a large file across, it was a police file, and a mug shot of Faith was clearly visible.
“Yeah, and?” Faith shrugged, “’S not like they got any proof.”
“Well, a lot of it is circumstantial, but taken all together it does seem like misfortune happens to those who cross your path.” The woman paused, “Add to that the eye witness statements, and your past juvenile offences for violent behaviour-“
Faith swung her legs off the table and sneered at the other woman. “You wanna get to some kinda point, or are ya jus’ gonna gas on forever.”
The Professor raised an eyebrow as she took back the folder and put it under another one, which she then opened. “But it seems that the police must have made a mistake. I have it on good authority that tomorrow morning one Robert Keel is going to make a full confession to the murders of Alan Finch and Professor Lester Worth while he’s in police custody.” The professor mused as she flicked through the folder, “He’ll mention details that only the killer could possibly know about, such as where the crimes took place, how many times they were stabbed and how one of the weapons used was a...wooden spike of some sort. Things he couldn’t possibly known about unless he has committed the acts himself,” The woman gave a Faith a measured look, “Or had been told about them by somebody who had knowledge and access to the particulars of the cases.”
Faith frowned hard, her eyes flicked as she looked for the angle. “And why would some guy just do this?”
Professor looked over the police notes and shook her head. “Bobbi Keel is a career criminal and a sociopath, responsible for several armed robberies, the murder of police officers during a convenience store robbery, and stabbing two people to death in a botched home invasion.” She tapped her finger against something on one of the pages, “And coincidentally, he was very near Sunnydale at the time of these crimes. He has been... given an incentive, in return for his co-operation.”
‘A fall guy, huh? That’s some big carrot, gettin’ a clean slate an’ all.’
“What’s the catch?”
The older woman shook her head. “There is no catch, Faith. There’s no quid pro quo... no deal to be had here. This will happen even if don’t accept the offer I’m about to make.” She closed the folder and slid both of them to one side, “I happen to believe in second chances for youthful mistakes, even serious ones. Especially so for those who are extraordinarily gifted, such as yourself. You are a slayer, and as a consequence are of great interest to us and the work we do here. Your abilities would make it possible to... work with us, to help us.”
Faith smirked at that. “Sorry, doc, not ‘xactly a team player here.”
“Why, because you couldn’t work with Buffy? I can tell you that you are not unique in that.” The Professor gave Faith a thoughtful look, “If I were to guess as to the events of last year I would say that the two of you worked well enough to begin with, just like The Initiative did. You have lots in common, share common goals and the like.” Walsh leaned forward, “But Buffy had certain... ways of doing things didn’t she? She was inflexible, judgmental and in the end, incapable of seeing things your way. She guarded her life, her friends very carefully, jealously even. She also kept secrets, lied to you, yet expected you to believe and trust her without question.”
Faith scowled down at the table and clenched her jaw at the memories. “Can’t really add anything to that.”
The Professor shook her head, her voice stern. “I can’t promise the same level of friendship that Buffy offered when it suited her. I would expect you to show deference... respect for those you work for. But what I can offer in return is our mission here, a place in the world for you to belong, people putting their trust in you as you do what you what you were always meant to do, before Buffy stopped you.” The Professor stood up and put her hands in her lab coat pockets, “Plus a generous salary, medical, dental, and the chance to use cutting edge technology.”
Faith mulled it over. She didn’t really like the idea of working for some government suit types, but talk of money had perked her interest. “How much we talkin’ here?”
The Professor allowed a small, knowing smile. “Generous. Salary. But you’ll have to work for it.”
“Hey, born slayer here.” Faith decided to push, she how badly the other woman wanted this. “Signing bonus?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
Faith stood up and gestured to herself. “MVP’s get a signing bonus right off the bat. And since I’m the only slayer here I’m thinkin’ B turned ya down. So, signing bonus to get the one and only slayer.”
The older woman seemed to think it over. “Very well. We’ll talk it over as I show you around our facility.” She gestured to the door with one hand, “Then you can get a sense of how we operate and we can talk about doing a little field work.”
Still wary of this whole situation, Faith gave the Professor a smile. “Cool. Let’s go.”

*~~*

As soon as the sun was down Spike went out hunting... well, not actually hunting. That’s all he did these days. Not hunt.
Shopping for blood and cigs was a sorry substitute for it.
Especially with those army boys roaming around, looking for him, not to mention any other nasties that happened to be out and about. Going around tasering and chipping and tagging until there wasn’t much left of Spike that hadn’t been interfered with.
‘Sodding bastards. Now doing anything simple like buying smokes turns into an epic pain in the balls.’
Still, all Spike had to do was bide his time and think of a plan. Something really... cunning. He’d idly thought about recruiting some demons, or maybe a gang of vamps, then storming some part of the Initiative, grab one of the labcoated types and get them to undo what they did to him.
Then kill the slayer. Stick a knife in her back, see how she liked it, and then drain her dry.
He smiled at the thought, and then reality set in. Things like this couldn’t be rushed. One step at a time and that first one would be tricky.
‘Bloody chip. Bleedin’ bad luck is what it is.’
Of course, for his plan to work he had to dampen down his natural urge to kill any demon or vamp he came across, and unfortunately a great big brawl was one of the few genuine pleasures left to him in his current unlife, that and his stories on the telly.
Reminded that he had to be back in time for ‘Passions’, Spike quickened his pace through the deserted park, one of the ones that the homeless tended to favour back when he had the run of this town. Spike vaguely hoped that he’d find a freshly dead vagrant, done in by a heart attack maybe. Or perhaps one had frozen to death.
He wished Sunnydale was cold enough for that to actually happen; cold and fresh was still better that warm pig’s blood.
He stopped in a dense patch of woodland, pricked up his ears as he suddenly heard noises in the too mild night air.
Voices. Low and guttural. Rhythmic chanting.
Magic.
Spike, half curious, half sensing an opportunity, crept towards the sound of the voice as it carried, low, harsh and clear, through the trees.
That’s something Spike hadn’t yet considered. Some demons, spooky robed types, loved their magic spells and rituals. Maybe he could get one, threaten to tear his tongue out if he didn’t do some transforming spell or somesuch on him. Then Presto, or whatever, no chip in his noggin.
Batting some branches aside Spike peered out through the tree line and across a deserted play area, swing sets and climbing frames loomed ominously in the waning half-light. Not the most typical place for a dark ritual spell, far too cosy really, although Spike had never really been fond of those little spring-horse rides that were found in such places.
He looked past a creaking swing that moved gently in the breeze; saw a tall robed figure standing on the grass beyond. The figure was alone yet his voice echoed and seemed to bounce off the air around so that it seemed like more than one person was talking, like many people whispering over each other.
The breeze picked up, rustling nearby branches.
Spike was stepping out of the bushes, pondering his next move, when he saw the body in front of the robed demon. One of the soldier boys, judging by his outfit, lay in a ritual circle burned onto the ground, something too vague for Spike to make out from where he was.
Judging from the looks of what remained of the arm curled close to his body; Spike guessed that the man, the sacrifice, was already dead. Or at least very unconscious.
The chanting got louder, so did the wind, it fluttered against Spike’s coat as he took another step forward. Not looking to interfere now but just to watch and see what was what. Maybe it would turn out to be of interest to the slayer, for a price of course.
Spike saw the figures hands crackle with energy and fancy lightning as the chanting quietened. Whispers and echoes swirling through the air around them both, and the air seemed to thicken and shudder slightly. Spike saw objects near to the ritual circle blur and bend for a moment, shimmering as if viewed through heat, before snapping back into clarity.
And then the body twitched.
It twitched, its limbs jerking like they’d been yanked on marionette strings. The twitching continued and got more violent. Spike saw fingers curl and claw at the air, even as the corpse was wracked with spasms.
‘All that for a bleedin’ zombie raising. All bloody flash with these magicians...’

Still, best to be cautious when it came to necromancers. They were a creepy bunch, and he had heard a few stories over the years. Stories that gave him pause when it came to those types and vampires. Best not to push his luck and just simply duck back...
The corpse screeched.
Its voice keened in an eerie high-pitched wail that set Spike’s teeth on edge. He saw it spasm again, and thrash violently against the ground, rolling and twisting, dirt and blood flung from its writhing form. He heard the crack of bones as limbs twisted and shifted. Clothing was shredded as the body continued to change and morph, growing and shifting. The snapping and resetting of limbs carried over the evening air in what Spike had the unnerving impression were birthing pains.
The figure had taken a step back and was still muttering something softly in a language, maybe a binding spell or a spell of command. This obviously wasn’t a zombie.
Spike saw the corpse sit up, now partially covered in clumps of bristly fur, part rotting skin. The top of its skull now grossly misshapen, two knotted lumps of horn sprang from its forehead, twisting and sharp. The hideously warped thing turned so Spike could see its face from the side, and he saw cavernously stretched eye sockets filled with swollen pulsating eyeballs. He saw a lengthened, lantern-like jaw that seemed to stretch out as he continued to watch.
Spike saw the thing raise a clawed arm, no longer human but transformed into something else, its spindly fingers tipped with razor sharp claws. He saw them pierce and tear off the remains of its human scalp like it was removing a wig.
The thing stretched up its neck and screamed again, mouth stretched wide, teeth bared at the sky. The sound was more like a roar, and Spike saw its breath coil out into the air around it like a fetid cloud.
Suddenly Spike recognised what he was looking at. He knew exactly what this thing was. He’d seen it before.
Without hesitating Spike turned and ran back through the trees as fast as he could. Damn his pride, he rarely ran from a fight but this, this was different.
He needed to tell the Slayer.

*~~*

Giles had gathered everyone at his house, as Buffy had requested, and now they all listened as she lay out what had happened.
She walked around as she spoke in an anxious rush. Giles was frowning as he listened intently and sipped some tea.
“...so Maggie sends me down into the sewers with one of those blasto-guns. And the next thing I know, it’s raining monsters.”
“Hallelujah.” Xander quipped, even as he pressed his hands together nervously. It was his way of coping.
Buffy ignored him and turned to Giles. “And then I try and use the gun, but it goes pfft.” She mimed the fizzle with her hands, “And then to top it off this gate slams down behind me so I’m trapped. All that was missing was a diabolical laughter soundtrack.”
Xander nodded in agreement. “No, Miss Summers, I expect you to die.”
Giles was bemused. “You’re saying that Maggie Walsh set you up?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Buffy was emphatic, “She sent me on a one-way recon.”
There was silence as everybody absorbed this. But at least nobody looked smug, just really concerned.
“What do you think Faith said to her?” Anya wondered.
“What?” Buffy frowned at her, although she noticed that Willow, Xander and Giles exchanged looks with each other.
“Well, this seems like simple cause and effect to me. The Initiative takes the bad slayer into custody, and then tries to kill the good slayer.” Anya shrugged as she said lightly. “It’s common sense really.”
Xander shifted uncomfortably on his stool as he looked guilty. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that, Aan.”
Anya sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, you’re not the ‘good’ slayer, is that not the ‘cool’ thing anymore?”
“You guys think that Faith has something to do with this?”Buffy asked as she glanced about, a little unsure.
Giles sighed as he replied. “Probably not, but we’d be remiss if we didn’t at least consider some sort of connection here, whether intentional or not.”
Buffy ran a hand through her hair, shaken a little by the thought. “Like what kind of connection?”
“Maybe Faith said something... told her something,” Willow said awkwardly. “And Walsh believed her. I mean, that’s possible, right?”
Giles shook his head. “Unlikely. Faith isn’t the, ah, best when it comes to deception on the back foot as it were. I doubt that somebody as,” His next words were grudging, “Intelligent as Maggie Walsh, would fall for any sort of ruse.”
“Then maybe Riley’s to blame!” Anya said brightly. Xander gave an exaggerated wince.
“You’re not helping,” grumbled Buffy. Anya’s face fell as she lapsed into silence.
“No, look.” Buffy tried to work it through in her head. “Riley and his squad were on guard duty the entire time, or so Maggie said. She wanted them all out of the way so she could send me on this very special ‘make-Buffy-dead-mission.’” She sighed and continued her voice soft with concern, “All I know is that Maggie has it in for me. That means the Initiative has it in for me.”
“Scary on so many levels,” said Willow glumly.
Xander jabbed the air with his finger as he made a point. “Right. And I’m guessing the mad scientist lady isn’t too keen on the fact, that the entire Scooby gang knows that the Initiative is up to no good.”
Buffy looked at her friends. “The only advantage I have is that Walsh thinks that I’m an ex Initiative-groupie. So she thinks that she’s free and in the clear. Maybe she’ll leave you guys alone, at least until she finds out I’m not dead. Then its back to ‘run, run for your lives,’ all over again.”
Giles was still trying to wrap his head around the events of the day. “I still don’t understand why she’d turn murderous all of a sudden. We’re clearly missing something.”
Buffy slumped against the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. She wasn’t keen of the fact that I was asking so many questions, that’s for sure.”
Willow remarked. “What about 314? Maybe you were getting too close to something? Something big and classified-y?”
“That rumour that Ethan picked up,” Buffy paused as she was hit by a realisation. “Last night. Last night I, uh, told Riley that I knew about 314. He didn’t look alarmed or anything. We were kind of arguing about Faith at the time and it slipped out. But maybe afterwards...”
“He informed on you to Professor Walsh,” finished Giles evenly.
“Or maybe one of his other squad did,” Buffy reasoned, although she figured as squad leader it was most likely that Riley would be the one to ‘report in’ or whatever. But he wouldn’t deliberately conspire against her, no way, not Riley.
Well, probably not.
Buffy shook those suspicious thoughts from her mind. They weren’t good things to have bouncing around in there. “The only things I know for sure are that the Initiative means big danger for all of us, and that they have Faith in their custody. I have to get her out.”
Xander looked concerned. “How are we gonna do that?”
Buffy felt a little jolt of happiness that Xander had said ‘we’ to a Faith rescue.
Buffy shook her head. “We’re not. If Maggie thinks I’m dead, it gives me a window of opportunity. I should still have my security clearance, so I can get inside.” She looked over the rest of them, “But you guys should move now. Before the Initiative puts you guys under surveillance, you need to hide someplace.”
Xander looked more relieved. “That plan plays to my strengths. I like it.”
Giles straightened up, his face etched with concern. “We should perhaps talk about this a bit more.”
Buffy went over to the weapons chest. “We should each grab a weapon, just in case, and then we can think about where to locate. Then we can plan our next move.”
“Ooh, we could go to my place!” Willow enthused. “My folks are out of town this week.”
Buffy thought about it, but eventually shook her head. “The Initiative guys know how close we are. They’ll automatically check the places you hang out.”
“There goes my idea for hole up at the Sunnydale Mall food court,” Xander said wistfully. “Free nacho refills.”
Giles remarked dryly. “The sticky floor would be more of an issue for most of us, I fear.”
Buffy looked at Xander with a sudden idea. “Xander, what about your basement? The guys haven’t seen us together that much. And there’s enough room.”
Willow smiled at that suggestion. “Plus, mirror-ball.”
Xander was pleased and gave a relaxed nod. “Cool. Come on down and boogie at Xander’s hide-away.”
Anya was less keen. “Yes. Come boogie.”
Giles was appalled. “Absolutely not. I will not squat in that dank hole. And didn’t I just get through saying that I found sticky floors utterly abhorrent.”
Buffy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Well your just gonna have to suck it up there Giles.”
Willow made a yuck face. “Ooh, bad. Wrong imagery.”
Giles shook his head. “I don’t see why we can’t all stay right here. We’re safe, secure, a bastion, really against whatever evils-”
The front door suddenly opened and Spike ran through it in a hurry. Giles craned his neck round and tried not to look put out at what he saw.
Buffy smirked and added dryly. “Your bastion’s just been breached.”
Spike looked almost pleased to see Buffy, which was weird and creepy on a level she hadn’t actually experienced before.
“You’re here, brilliant. We got serious problems.”
Xander made a dismissive gesture at him. “We know Spike. The Initiative. Evil. They’ve joined the growing list of people who want us dead. It’s old news.”
“I thought it was three groups,” muttered Anya.
Spike looked at him like he was insane. “The Initiative? I don’t give a bloody toss about those wankers!” He regarded Buffy with alarm and pointed at her. “This is a bloody crisis happening right under your upturned little nose.”
Buffy looked exasperated. “You want to tell us what you’re actually talking about?”
Spike gave a long-suffering sigh, like he was talking to idiots. “It’s the end of the sodding world, innit.”

*~~*

Somewhere in Nevada, two men met in a corridor. One of them, the younger man, brandished a piece of printed paper at the other.
“This came through. Just been confirmed.”
The other man scowled at it as he scratched his chin. “Prison transfer? This guy only got here about a week ago.”
The younger man shrugged. “Crazy, right? The transport’s prepping as we speak. They want him there ASAP, some kind of specific mumbo-jumbo threat they want his help with.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His voice heavy with resignation the older man turned and walked down the corridor towards the door at the far end, his colleague quickly followed. “Luckily the guy didn’t cause any trouble on his way here. Minimal threat. Some Crowley-type.”
The other man, puzzled, glanced at the order again. “Who? It says here-”
“Figure of speech, buddy. Helps if you know something about some of the nut jobs we have to deal with. Think of it as like learning Arabic or some crap.”He stopped a moment to pull a security key-card out of his pants.
The other guy was still frowning at the paper. “Right? Who’s Crowley anyway?”
“Magician.” The first one grunted as he adjusted his sagging pants. He reached up and beeped the card through the slot. There was a loud buzz and the heavily secured door clacked open.
“Like Houdini?”
“Oh, hardly.” A rich, educated, British voice spoke up from the depths of the cell. “Far more interesting than all that. ‘Do as thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.’ Words to live by, don’t you think?”
The older guard just grumbled. “Shut up Rayne. Step forward.”
The man obeyed, stepping towards the two men. He was clearly amused. “Am I going on a trip, officer? How exciting.”
The guard shrugged and gave the man’s restrains a forceful tug to check that they were secure. “Looks like. Going back to Sunnyhill or wherever. Gonna put you to work, won’t that be fun for ya.”
A dark chuckle. “Oh, I always endeavour to have fun wherever I end up. You could say it’s my calling in life.”
“Fascinatin’.” The older guard grunted. He walked the prisoner out of the cell and down the corridor towards the van.
In a few days he’d be somebody else’s problem.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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