Blood Letting
by Valyssia
Bad Blood
[reviews]
I have swallowed the poison you feed me, but I survive on it. It leaves me guilt fed, hatred fed, weakness fed, and I feel ugly and dead inside.
Faith looked over at the witch dozing in the hospital recliner. Speaking in a gentle voice, she tried not to startle her sleepy friend, "Amy, go home. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine." She was here all night—all day. No clue what her deal is but...she really needs to find the fun.
"Why should I?" Amy replied, sleepily. Shifting in the chair, she opened her eyes and met the slayer's gaze. "You didn't leave me."
"That was different," Faith growled. Appearing defensive, she folded her arms. "You needed someone to make sure—"
Amy cut her off, responding defiantly, "To make sure I lived? To make sure I didn't go see Rack again? To keep me alive? To care?" Scowling stubbornly, she concluded, "Not leaving."
Taking in the obstinate look on her friend's face, Faith sighed. "Alright... Not like I can make you, but you should think about eatin' somethin'."
"Giles and Jonathan were here while you were sleeping. They said they'd bring me something," Amy replied, relaxing as best she could in the awful hospital chair.
Faith sat, silently regarding her friend. Nothin' I can do if— I just wish she'd take care of herself. That's all any of this was ever about. I couldn't let her destroy herself. Too much there worth keepin'. Sensing that the witch was settling again, she put on the headphones. Turning the TV on, she silently flipped channels to pass the time. They say I'm outta here tomorrow. Thank God. I hate these places. Suddenly a silhouette appeared on the other side of the curtain, tearing her attention from the television. She scanned the room just in time to see a blur of motion and feel fangs tear at her throat. Trying to fight, she thrashed underneath the vampire. Wicked fast, strong as an ox, blonde hair...finally... She's finally here to finish it. Sensing that Amy was trying to move, she felt the vampire jerk. Looking over, she saw a foot connect with Amy's face. The blood loss quickly took her. Vision blurring, she passed out.
***********
By the time Buffy and Willow hit the hospital, they looked like they were dressed for a night on the town. Holding hands, they made their way through the halls, stopping at reception to get directions.
Locating the elevator, Buffy stabbed the button for the sixth floor, glancing over to smile at her witch. She exited the elevator and began winding through the maze of corridors. Finding the proper room number, she poked her head in the door. The first bed's vacant so—must be on the other side of the curtain. As she stuck her head around the curtain, the sunny smile on her face evaporated. She dropped her witch's hand and the box of flowers. Moving at top speed, she seized the blonde vampire by the back of the neck, tearing her off the slayer. As she pulled back, her fingers met behind the creature's spine. "Willow," she snarled, "Take this thing." She felt the magic seize hold of the vampire. Releasing her grip, she bent over the slayer. "She'll live," she reflected, listening to the steadily loping heart. Humans...so frail.
Awaiting further instructions, Willow held the vampire perfectly rigid, moving her over to the corner of the room. She went to Amy's side, stooping to lift her into the chair. "She'll live too...but she smells too much like dinner for it—" she noted, running her tongue across her pale lips.
Buffy laughed. "Be nice, Wills," she retorted, glancing over to wink at her witch. Striding over to the window, she popped the weak lock, sliding it open. "Put that thing outside," she directed, moving out of the way so the witch could follow her instructions. She watched the vampire float through the open window and come to a jerking halt, hanging over the roof four-stories below. The look of panic on the creature's face made her smile. "Little closer, Wills. I wanna be able to reach her."
Buffy captured the hostile vampire's gaze. Speaking in a soft growl, she instructed, "The slayer's mine. Touch her again and die. This town...is mine. The Hellmouth...is mine. Understand?"
The young vampire nodded, unable to speak no matter how hard she tried.
"Flay her, Will," Buffy snarled. Watching the skin tear off the body of the young girl, she grinned when it landed in a pile on the roof below them. Pausing a moment to let that sink in, she put her hand to her chin, considering the vampire. "Thank you. Now eviscerate her. Don't kill...just the minor organs," she commanded. She watched the mound of remains grow. Stalling again to enjoy the look of terror, she reached out to yank at a stubborn piece that hadn't fallen. Amazing she's still awake...brain must be having trouble keeping up.
"'Kay...now listen close," Buffy ordered her captive. "You tell your little friends...I'm coming," she hissed, making eye contact with what was left of the young vampire.
Buffy directed her witch, "Now the major muscle groups... I want it to take hours for her to move." The heap of body parts on the roof below increased. Reaching out, she caressed what remained of the girl's cheek, licking her fingers as she drew her hand back. "Drop her...keep her together. No dust."
Willow let the vampire go, using her magic to bind the important parts of what was left of her corpse. Bones splintered and flew as the girl hit the pile of parts below, but her head, spine, and heart stayed intact.
Closing the window and shade with her unsoiled hand, Buffy met her witch's gaze, moving to the sink to wash up. "Sorry 'bout that... I just wanted—"
"To send a message." Willow cut her off.
"That would be the 'it.' She'll never be right again—even if she does heal," Buffy reflected thoughtfully.
Willow tried to control the trembling, offering in a soft shaky voice, "I remember the last one. Don't have to—"
"Know you do, Wills," Buffy confirmed in an arid tone. Turning to face her witch, she took her into a gentle embrace, whispering, "I am sorry." She looked into the black eyes, tenderly stroking the hair away from them.
Willow leaned in to give her partner a soft loving kiss, feeling some of the dark energy abate. "I'll be okay. You should get a doctor for these two."
"'Kay... I'll be right back," Buffy said, tearing off out of the room.
Stooping to pick up the flowers, Willow filled the vase and arranged them for Faith. Leaving them on her bedside table along with the card, she withdrew from the room to await Buffy.
***********
Rupert Giles made his way silently to the elevator with Jonathan in tow. Seven years living on the hellmouth had taught him many things. The most important of these lessons was that family earned was far stronger than the meaningless ties of blood and heritage. He had come to genuinely love and respect these children. They were his family. The strength the young witch had shown while fighting her addiction to dark magicks had particularly impressed him. His past spoke to him regarding the difficulty of these matters. There had been a time when he had found himself in similar circumstances and he knew just how seductive the call could be.
Rounding the corner by the nurse's desk, Jonathan almost dropped the tray of fountain drinks he was carrying. "B-Buffy," he stuttered without thinking. Oh—good one. Call the crazy vampire's name... That'll keep her from killing you.
Turning to look, Buffy rolled her eyes. Well this is gonna be fun. She sighed, returning her gaze to the idiot nurse. "Look, lady...blood transfusion in 621 or lawsuity goodness... Your choice; make it now," she growled, trying to press down the craving for a cigarette and/or this woman's blood. Either would work...not like I'm picky. She finally seized the old nurse and took off, towing her down the hall, entirely ignoring the pair of would-be heroes.
Jonathan and Giles ran after her, completely aghast and trying to make sense of Buffy's demands.
As Buffy passed by her witch, she rolled her eyes again. Dragging the old woman up to Faith's bedside, she commanded, "Fix it now." Turning to exit, she heard the page go out. "Stupid—stupid woman... Finally firming up," she whispered. Shaking her head, she left the room.
Willow met her partner's gaze as she exited, entirely ignoring the babblings of Giles and Jonathan. "We good?"
"Better... Mindless cattle," Buffy spat contemptuously. Controlling the desire to silence the old watcher and his boy, she hissed, "Let's bail. No good can come of this."
Taking her partner's hand, Willow followed as Buffy set off toward the exit at a purposeful pace.
***********
As the doctor set her nose, tears streamed down Amy's cheeks. She consciously relaxed her grip on the arms of the chair. Looking over at Faith, she asked, "She going to be okay?" half fearing the answer.
The doctor replied, "She'll be just fine, Miss. Please sit still."
Amy did as instructed, patiently allowing the doctor to splint and tape the injury. Her face felt like it might fall off. The medication was doing little to take the edge off, but she steeled herself against the pain. The others need to know. I can't fall apart...no matter how much I want to.
Giles sat down next to the young witch, still completely flummoxed by what he had witnessed. He absently offered her a hand.
Jonathan made his way into the room. Trying to stay out of the way, he leaned against the wall, placing the tray of drinks and bag of fast food on the counter next to the sink. He watched numbly as Giles spoke with the doctor who was helping Amy, grateful that he was here to play grownup for them at times like this. I sure couldn't handle this as well.
Finally the commotion in the room died down enough for Amy to lean over to Giles and whisper around the icepack, "Giles there's something you need to know."
"Yes?" Giles replied, leaning in to listen to the young witch.
"You know how I've been learning to read auras?" Amy whispered pensively into the watcher's ear.
Giles nodded.
"Well, I'm not sure...'cause, well—head injury, and the 'seeing stars'—but I think Buffy had one. I was coming to when she dragged the nurse in the room. Scared the crap outta me," Amy whispered.
"But the only way—" Giles said, appearing befuddled.
"The only way she'd have one is if she had a soul. Yeah...got that... I don't think it was her—vamp that attacked Faith. She was heavier than Buffy and—" Amy whispered.
"But that would mean..." Giles replied, absolutely perplexed by the notion.
"Yeah—Buffy was trying to help," Amy whispered, looking completely mystified.
"But the witch...Willow. She had just worked some very dark magick. I could sense it," Giles said in a low thoughtful voice.
"No clue... Head injury, remember? Maybe she got rid of the other vamp. There's no trace—no dust," Amy offered thoughtfully.
Giles considered this for a moment. "Perhaps... Suppose you are right. What do you believe we should do about it?" he whispered.
"Dunno... Not even sure what a soul would mean to something like Buffy. Just thought you should know," Amy concluded. Leaning back into the chair, she tried to quiet her throbbing head.
***********
Grabbing a cooler, Buffy began to remove bags of blood from the hospital's cold storage. "There has to be a better way but, right now: clueless," she remarked, looking over her shoulder she saw the witch's face illuminated by the soft glow of a computer monitor. "Whatcha stealing now?" she asked, suppressing a laugh.
"Not exactly stealing—sort of rescuing," Willow replied thoughtfully, remaining focused on the machine despite the interruption.
"So whatcha 'rescuing'?" Buffy clarified, unable to stifle the laugh this time. She's so bad.
Breaking the magickal interface she had established with the machine, Willow stood up. Walking around the desk in the cramped room, she remarked, "I'd have to be upset if you destroyed my property...so don't kill the car."
A warm smile played at Buffy's features as she responded. "Really?"
"Really... It suits you—nothing subtle," Willow confirmed. Grabbing a second cooler, she began to contribute to the heist.
Buffy watched with concern as Willow went about packing the cooler. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely remove the bags without tearing them. "I got this. Go sit," she directed, taking the witch's trembling hand to lead her away. "Look, Wills... There's always a hooker or two at the truckstop—on the interstate. It's a bit of a drive, but—"
Willow sat dutifully. Taking both of Buffy's hands, she reflected, "You really don't get it do you, Buffy? 'Whore's just another way of saying 'victim.' Look at me."
"I shouldn't have—" Buffy started, halting when the witch began to speak again.
"No; no, you shouldn't. If you really want this—you can't ask. I told you I'd follow—so..." Willow babbled, her whole body quaking as she spoke.
Buffy nodded. "There's other stuff, though?" she asked, trying to figure out where the line was.
"Sure... There's the elemental magicks—regular witchy stuff. Trouble is, the fire thing pretty much scares the shit outta me. And earth—sorta the same deal. I can do small, but anything big...hurts. Air's similar—not so bad though. Water...water's the only thing that feels right," Willow explained, hoping Buffy would understand.
"So immolation?" Buffy asked.
"Not gonna happen," Willow said frankly. "Manipulating and conjuring fire?" she chuckled mirthlessly, "Big pile of ash: me—not so much them."
"Makes sense... 'Kay, so—you tell me. No more asking. For the now, how do—?" Buffy queried, cupping the witch's cheek.
"It'll pass. I really need—" Willow said, cutting off as Buffy finished her sentence.
"A victim."
Willow nodded. Staring down at the floor next to Buffy's feet, she tried to hide the shame. "I'm better off—doing—moving...concentrating on something else—distracted."
"Let's get outta here and we'll make a sweep of the town. We can hit the Bronze if nothing else," Buffy offered. She placed a finger under her witch's chin, gently tilting her head up. As their eyes met she whispered, "Not your fault, Will," leaning in to deliver a supple kiss.
***********
Faith cracked an eyelid. Nauseous and dizzy, she quickly determined that shut eyes were better under the harsh fluorescents. "Someone get rid of those—" she groaned, pointing up. I'm still alive. Hurts too damned much to be anything else...
Jonathan dutifully obeyed the request, flipping off the overhead light. He returned, switching on the dimmer light over Faith's bed.
Amy stood up. Crossing the short distance between bed and chair, she stated in a nasally tone, "Guess I don't have to ask how you are?"
"Feel like crap," Faith confirmed, peering muzzily up at the source of the voice.
"Right behind ya..." Amy offered with a smile followed by a painful wince as she discovered that smiling was a bad thing. "Faith... Flowers, card..." she pointed, "We weren't sure we should touch them. Can I?"
Faith followed where she was directed to look. "Oh... Who brought those?"
"We were thinking Buffy, but..." Amy offered, glancing back to meet Giles stare.
Faith spat, "What makes you think that?" wincing at the outburst.
Amy put her hands up, making a gesture for the slayer to settle down. "Couple of things just don't add up, Faith. Don't stress," she said patiently. Pausing to make sure her friend was going to remain calm, she asked, "May I look at the card?"
"Sure...knock yourself out. Don't get why she'd bring me flowers and try to kill me, though," Faith offered frankly, folding her arms across her chest.
Amy opened the card. Reading it silently, she passed it back to Giles, giving him a slight nod. "Are you able to move, Faith?"
Faith carefully sat up. "Yeah...think so. Why?"
Amy steadied her friend. "'Cause you're going to stay with Giles for a few days."
"But what'd the card say," Faith queried, looking confused.
Amy snickered. "Rough translation from Buffy speak: Keep your head down. She plans to fix the damage she did."
Faith furrowed her brow, trying to absorb the details. "And you trust her?" she asked.
Dropping the bedrail, Amy helped Faith to swing her legs over the edge. "Not so much 'trust,' but I see a pattern. Two days...two attacks. Both—well, you get the idea. The advice is sound—source is meaningless," she responded in a gentle yet straightforward manner.
"I'll go make the arrangements," Giles offered genially.
Jonathan stepped forward. Appearing sheepish, he asked, "Faith, if you want, I could go get your stuff."
Faith nodded. "Yeah... Thanks."
"I'll see you back at Giles' then," Jonathan confirmed, making his way out of the room.
***********
The red 1973 Trans Am crept slowly forward through a dingy, trash-laden back alley in the industrial district of Sunnydale. When a muffed scream sounded in the distance, the classic muscle car came to life.
"Now that's the Sunnydale I know and love," Willow commented in a cheerful tone. Dinner's just been served. Thank Goddess.
Buffy slung the car around in the parking lot at the end of the alley. Glancing back in the rearview at the smoking haze left by the vehicle doing just what she told it. "God I love this car. Thanks, Will," she remarked in a breathy voice, smirking as they careened back down the alley. "That was behind us, right?"
"Yeah...couple cross alleys back, I think. Hard to pinpoint. Pretty echo-y—what with all the buildings. Slower...don't wanna scare them," Willow babbled, trying to answer the question.
Buffy backed off the throttle. "You spoil all my fun," she whined playfully.
Screeching to a halt when she saw movement, Buffy smashed the parking brake. Flipping the car into neutral, she was out the door and on her feet the moment it stopped. Breaking into a hard sprint, she spied the trouble further down the cross alley. Two men—some girl... An actual damsel. This is too damned funny. Time to play hero. Grabbing the first man, she spun him off his victim and into one of the building walls hard enough that she heard a soft crack when he hit. The second man was restraining the girl. Need to be a bit more gentle with this one, she noted. No breaking the damsel. Points off for that. She grabbed the second man by the back of the shirt. He reflexively released the girl when his feet left the ground. Pitching him sideways, she tilted her head, turning to face Willow.
"Wills...this one's yours," Buffy said in an even tone, returning the amused gaze. "Have fun... Save one for me," she instructed, scooping the girl up.
"Alright... I'll keep them busy while you—" Willow replied, smirking softly at her latest victim. Turning her full attention to the man, she cooed, "Shame on you, dirty boy." The smirk washed away, leaving a seductive smile.
Running back to the car, Buffy slid the limp girl into the passenger seat. Straightening her clothes enough for decency's sake, she clipped the seat belt across her waist. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Cliché more?" she grumbled, shaking her head. Need to get back before Will breaks—both were sorta cute. Have to wonder why the hell...? Not like she's gonna interview them. So, mystery unless my damsel snaps out of it.
***********
Giles pulled his aged Citro'n around to the entrance as instructed, awaiting the hospital staff and Amy who were to bring Faith to the car. He sat, dully listening to a classic rock station for several minutes, when a red car roared past, catching his attention. "Bloody Americans," he hissed disapprovingly, watching as the car pulled in front of the emergency room doors. A petite, blonde woman clad in black leather threw the driver's door open. Expecting her to run inside, he was stunned by what he witnessed next. The small woman sped around the car and tossed the passenger door open, then lifted another, slightly-larger woman out of the car. Without realizing what he was doing, Giles found himself standing with one foot outside his car, still clinging to the steering wheel with one hand and the open door with the other.
Giles mechanically followed them into the emergency room, entering in time to see Buffy place the other woman on a gurney. His mouth hung open. Noticing the blood that flowed from the laceration on the young woman's scalp, Giles closed his mouth. Raising his hand to point a finger at Buffy, he rallied his nerve to speak. His mouth opened, but the only sound he could make was an odd clucking. Closing his mouth again, he decided to preserve the remainder of his dignity.
"Hey, Giles," Buffy chimed in a voice dripping with saccharine, flashing the older British man an amused smile and a wink.
"That's right... I said rape victim," Buffy repeated to the doctor, her voice dropped to reflect the epitome of boredom. Only half paying attention to the befuddled physician, she fiddled with her car keys.
"How exactly can you be sure, Miss?" the doctor queried pensively.
Buffy replied frankly, "I pulled the fucker off her myself." Giving the doctor a reproachful glance, she concluded, "Look, just do your job. You can do that right?" Turning on heel, she walked out the door, winking at Giles again just to give him the creeps. Pausing to light a cigarette, she ignored the gawkers, before making her way purposefully to the car. My dinner's getting cold—my car smells like damsel blood—and I don't have time for this shit.
"But, Miss—?" the doctor sputtered, attempting to call after her.
"This town... It just keeps getting more bizarre," Giles whispered under his breath. Shaking his head, he followed Buffy outside. Watching the vampire drive away, he pulled his glasses off to quickly clean them.
***********
Pulling up in the alley, Buffy watched for a moment or two while Willow batted the rapist around. "Quit playing with my food," she chided mischievously as she got out of the car.
"Oh!" Willow gasped, looking up to meet her partner's gaze, "Yeah, well—I guess... I was bored and, ummm—he looked so lonely," she replied, shoving the man at Buffy.
The rapist fell at her feet, shuddering. Buffy seized hold, forcing him to stand and face her. "Run," she snarled, hoping he had some life left in him. Sighing loudly, she watched as he feebly tried to stagger away. Her movement blurred as she approached her victim. Grabbing his hair, she snapped his head back, sinking her fangs in so swiftly he didn't have a chance to scream. Not bothering to even cover his mouth, she drained him. Save for a choked gurgling noise as he died, the rapist remained utterly silent. Picking the corpse up, she tossed it into the dumpster at the end of the alley, smiling viciously as he landed on top of his buddy.
"Well that was dull. I wanna drop past Hellmouth High and see if any more of my little playmates are out. Then I think it's time to go home." As Buffy spoke her face transformed back to the human façade.
"'Kay... Whatever. Are you sure about...well, home? You sure? You're talking about the mansion home—not the hotel home? Home is—sort of well...confusing now," Willow babbled anxiously.
Meeting her witch's nervous gaze, Buffy growled softly, "Oh yeah... I got a little surprise for my boys. They're gonna love it." Walking around the car, she slid into the driver's seat, waiting for her witch to join. She absently wiped the crimson from around her mouth with her index finger, suckling the digit to remove the traces.
"What sorta surprise?" Willow asked. Getting into the car, she pulled her door closed and fastened the lap belt.
Buffy smirked. "You'll see," she replied in a silky voice. Starting the car, she glanced over at her witch, finally noticing in the dim interior light. "Wills... Why's your hair still black? Didn't—I mean, it did work, right?"
"It would've, but—I just— I'll get rid of it myself this time, 'kay?" Willow babbled again, her nerves obviously frazzled from the night's activities. "I'm with you. I-l just—I can't," she concluded, staring at her trembling hands.
Wow! Buffy's brain hung for a moment on that one word. She was clueless how to take what she heard. Is that—couldn't be—do my feelings—doing what I want—could that mean more to her than—? Love's a really fucked up emotion. Self sacrifice without—the having to— 'Kay shifting gears from that other brand of crazy. So, now what do I do? What do I actually say? Nothing—just take her hand, stupid. Buffy heeded the internal monologue. With her free hand, she put a finger under her witch's chin, lifting and turning gently until their eyes met again. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself for me, Will. Please don't. It's not like I can give you—" she whispered, searching her partner's cold eyes for some sign. "Fuck it," she hissed softly, drawing Willow into a lingering passionate kiss. Hope this is okay for a second date, she mused, slipping away into the kiss.
Sensing the flood of emotion, Willow drifted off into it. Momentarily breaking the kiss, she lifted her partner over the console, pulling her carefully into her lap. She was a bit surprised at how little actual effort it took, not to mention that she'd managed it without accidentally putting the car in gear. Meeting Buffy's gaze, she returned her thoughts and actions to the broken kiss. Making up for its absence by letting go of her desire, she focused it into the one act her mate could enjoy. Tongues caressing in an intimate dance, supple lips gently gliding, the taste of blood from the fresh kill, all combined to make her head swim.
Losing sense of time and surroundings, Buffy curled up in her witch's lap and yielded completely to the seduction of the kiss. The way it played at her senses was intoxicating. Aroused without pain, she was lost in Willow. 'Maybe this is love?' flitted across her brain, getting lost in the torrent of sensation as well. When she finally broke the kiss, the eyes that met hers were green. She looked around; the windows in the car were fogged over. Returning her attention to her partner, she was amused by the silly grin that played at her face.
Yeah...she loves me...no way she could—
Snapping back to business, Buffy reflected, "I dunno if we'll have time for home tonight. Time... What time is it? I need to—" Twitching at the poke to her ribs, she cast her gaze around the car, finally realizing Willow was pointing at the LED clock on the aftermarket stereo. "Okay...duh... Thanks, Will. Three a.m... Maybe... Let's see how— If not, we'll hit it first thing tomorrow." Sliding back into the driver's seat, she fiddled with the heater until the defroster came on.
"What do you feel when we—?" Willow asked pensively.
Glancing over at her witch, Buffy considered how to answer the question. Truth is I feel lots of things. Sort of amazing for—well, me. Snickering softly, she replied, "Simpled up...I guess I feel loved."
Willow watched her partner closely. "Why the snicker?"
"'Cause for me—loved was the last thing I ever expected to feel... Hated, feared—lots closer," Buffy reflected. Putting the car in gear, she started down the alley again.
"Know what I feel?" Willow whispered just loudly enough to be heard clearly over the heater.
"Tell me," Buffy queried in a flat tone, her attention more directed at driving and plotting than the conversation at hand.
Willow smiled. Turning at an angle in the seat, she leaned against the door, facing her partner. "The same thing you do," she said in the same silky voice. Meeting the glance she knew was coming, she locked eyes with Buffy for just an instant.
***********
Eve painfully labored her broken body to a sitting position on the cold tar roof. Her mind was reeling as she tried to sort out exactly what had happened, where she was, and what was wrong with her. "Buthy," she snarled, noting the lisp as she spoke. Putting her hand to her face, she felt the limp dead flesh. Testing her facial muscles, she realized no matter how she tried she couldn't control movement on the left side. That's the side the poisonous bitch touched me on.
Struggling to stand, she landed prone on the roof again. Recoiling at the blood and gory pieces of meat all around her, she fought, finally righting herself. Her right arm wouldn't cooperate. Despite her attempts it hung lamely at her side. Looking down she pulled it up with her left. Her bicep had failed to reform or reattach before the skin grew back. She screamed in agony and terror. Her left leg was lame. The knee refused to bend and the leg itself was shorter now than her right.
Starting in a loping gait, she made her way to the edge of the roof. Throwing her bare, emaciated, and disfigured form to the ground among a patch of carefully manicured hedges, she waited for prey to pass her position. Her patience was finally rewarded. She seized the young woman. Sinking her fangs in, she drank deeply, feeling better for the fresh blood. Peeling the scrubs off of her victim, she hastily dressed. I need to get back. I'll be lucky if she don't kill me for failin', but...
***********
Traveling deftly through the cavernous areas under the school, Buffy emerged with Willow in tow at the gateway. It remained buried and inactive. "The hellmouth," she whispered, looking around the room for signs of activity. "Someone's been here, but—" she remarked, staring down at the various footprints left on the rough dirty concrete floor.
"At least four—maybe five," Willow confirmed, scanning the floor to pick out the individual patterns. "Nice thought—on the concrete. Adds a complication," she whispered pensively.
Meeting her witch's gaze, Buffy noted, "Had the minions and, well—not much sense in leaving that seal... What is it?" Pausing for a few seconds to think, she tentatively offered, "The Seal of Damn-Bizarre sitting under a few scoops of dirt."
"Seal of Danthazar," Willow replied helpfully, turning to smile at Buffy. "Thing is..." she started, breaking off to consider her words carefully. Furrowing her brow, she appeared distant as she spoke, "Dunno...just seems—the details are wrong. They seem awfully fixated on killing Faith, and—well, it makes no sense."
"Dunno either, but—yeah—nothing here... They'll need tools if they— So, let's bail; we can check back tomorrow," Buffy confirmed, offering her hand to the witch.
***********
Giles paced in front of the old coffee table in his flat, appearing quite consumed by his own musings. "That's correct, I said Buffy," he affirmed in a matter-of-fact tone, glancing over to take in the skeptical look on his slayer's face.
Faith tried to shake off some of the lingering doubt. Shifting to lay on her back on the old couch, she remarked, "But that would mean...she's hittin' for our side now?"
Amy shrugged from her seat on the arm of the couch. "Dunno... I'd still take it with a grain of salt. Even if she has been ensouled, we shouldn't see that as some guarantee that she's suddenly become all mythic and defender-like. Plenty people out there now—humans—that are totally evil, with their souls sitting right where they should. Look at her witch if you need an example," she interjected thoughtfully.
Giles took a seat in the old recliner opposite the two young women. "Yes, but she brought an injured, bleeding victim into the hospital, Amy. She was having enough difficulty that I'm certain the doctor believed her a junkie. From the gauntness of her face and the trembling, I suspect she was starving. I wonder what she's been feeding on?" he responded. Pulling his glasses off, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean them.
Jonathan spoke up from where he was seated on a stool in front of the kitchen counter. "What difference does any of this make?" He had to restrain a laugh when most of the room jumped, having forgotten he was there again.
"It makes all the difference," Giles said firmly, replacing his glasses and stowing the handkerchief in the inside breast pocket of his tweed jacket.
"Not really, Giles. Not if we're hiding in here," Jonathan commented wryly, meeting the watcher's gaze.
Giles nodded. "Touché."
"I'd love to go all Sarah Connor for ya but, so far, that's been suicide," Faith offered, peering up from the couch to meet Jonathan's stare.
Amy stood up. Moving over to the shelf of musty books, she scanned the volumes. "I'm thinking research. We can help by figuring out what they want. What do we know?"
"We know—I feel—sorry, we feel—like we've been hammered," Faith replied, groaning slightly as she finished.
Jonathan perked up. "That's it! Faith! They wanted Faith," he chimed in. "What if they weren't trying to kill you?" he asked, appearing excited.
"Sure looked that way from my seat," Faith remarked dryly.
Giles stood up. Moving to the book shelf, he looked over it briefly, drawing down one of the Watcher's diaries. "Now hold on... The lad may have a point," he offered fairly. Opening the book carefully, he began to scan the pages. As he read, he spoke in a stream of consciousness, "What we are failing to account for is the slayer element, in all these cases. It is possible that part of Buffy's reaction may be based on the introduction of that very thing. What the other slayers might want with Faith is still a mystery. Perhaps they sought to turn her?"
"Possible, but I'm thinking bigger," Jonathan said in a pensive tone, turning his attention to the weapon leaning against the wall in the corner of the room.
"Oh...you've gotta be shittin' me!" Faith spat as she followed Jonathan's gaze.
"Think about it, Faith... There's a spell to locate a potential. Prob'ly how Buffy was first found and turned. I mean there was a prophecy about her. 'An innocent born in a land of broken dreams...' She was supposed to be a great force for good, the final guardian of the Hellmouth. Instead she becomes the greatest evil this place has ever known. Her goals—their goals— All they need is you and that," Jonathan replied firmly, pointing to the artifact in the corner of the room.
***********
"You sure you want to be here?" Willow asked nervously, looking through the car window at the entrance to the mansion.
Taking her witch's hand, Buffy replied, "Can't think of anywhere I'd rather be. It'll be fine, Wills. Relax a little." Getting out of the car, she lit a cigarette and strolled purposefully up to the door. Glancing back at the car, she watched Willow slide out.
"Just follow me and act pissed off. They're scared as hell of you," Buffy whispered. Swinging the door open, she met Luke's gaze.
"Welcome home, Mistress. We were becoming concerned," Luke offered in a deep throaty voice, motioning them inside.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy commented reproachfully, "Let me worry about what you should and shouldn't be concerned about, Luke. Thinking—that much—it'll get you in trouble." Ignoring the questions, she instructed aridly, "Lock the geek in a cell downstairs. I want a word with him later." Not even acknowledging Luke's reply, she set off intently through the house. Climbing three flights of stairs, she moved swiftly down a short corridor. Using her keys to open the deadbolt on the door at the end, she slipped inside. "They know better than to screw with me in here. No one comes in this room 'cept me," she remarked, pulling Willow inside.
Scanning the cozy finished attic room, Willow found herself drawn to a wide display case on the far wall. Skirting past a small sofa, she stood looking over the shelves. "I always wondered about this room. Y-you—you saved—?" she stuttered, looking over the items.
"Yeah, Will... I'm a real psychopath. I took trophies from every major kill. Anything bigger than dinner," Buffy confirmed. Wandering over to the dormer, she drew back the heavy drapes, opening the window to air out the cramped, little space. Settling onto the padded window seat, she flipped her cigarette into the hedges below.
"Who's hands? They don't look human," Willow asked pensively.
Rising, Buffy made her way across the room. Using her keys, she opened the door on the display cabinet.
Willow moved aside to allow the heavy door to swing open. Making her way around the couch to stand beside Buffy, she remarked, "Don't do anything by halves—do you?"
"What? Oh...the case? Yeah...had it built—it's sorta like a safe—but not," Buffy commented dryly. Beginning to point, she started with the hands. "The Master—something about the hands—the rest of him got ground to dust." Moving to the first ring on The Master's left hand, she noted, "The claddagh ring was Angelus, the skull ring was Spike, and the black onyx ring was Dru. Of course, this—" she moved the hands aside to uncover a length of heavy chain with a shackle on one end. "This was my gift from Darla," she commented in a brooding voice.
Willow watched closely as her partner pulled out the shackle. She could be a million miles from here... I'd never know the difference. Gravity pulled out the rest of chain, which made a ticking rhythm as the links slid off the edge of the shelf, pooling it on the floor.
Buffy snapped back to something of her normal self as she continued, "Anyway, I had one of the geeks wire the hands so they'd stay together. The rings are glued on. I thought it was kinda cool—and fitting."
Picking up a burned piece of plastic, Willow inspected it for a moment. "The mayor?"
Buffy furrowed her brow. "Yeah. That was a bitch to get. The detonator—had to steal it from the cops. I figured murdering a hundred or so semi-innocent souls... I should have a keepsake," she commented sullenly.
"And the skull?" Willow asked, returning the detonator to its place on the shelf.
A sardonic smile played at Buffy's features as she answered, "Some brat Faith killed—supposed to be her sister. Actually, she was like this mystical Key made by a bunch of religious freaks. I had to save it. The one evil thing Faith ever did. Guess she's not big on the whole 'family' thing."
Willow snickered. "Yeah...I remember that. Faith was all torn up. Glorificus and her stupid Key... Thought we might actually have to work, but team white hat saved the day." Moving her attention to the next item on the shelves, she queried, "And the spine?"
"Margaret Walsh. Dunno if you even heard about that one. Dalton caught it pretty early. Government thing—humans playing god... Remove the leader and the whole thing fell apart. She was yummy," Buffy remarked bluntly.
"Who's the pig? He looks totally out of place," Willow noted, staring at the old stuffed toy.
Buffy sighed. "Mr. Gordo, he was mine when I was a little girl. Sort of a reminder of—"
"Your humanity," Willow concluded. Removing the necklace she still had on from the previous night, she carefully placed it at Mr. Gordo's feet. Symbolic—meet literal...
Motioning Willow aside, Buffy closed the case, tipping her chin in a slight nod of affirmation as she moved to the couch, dragging her souvenir behind. Taking a seat, she toyed with the chain, running the links through her fingers. "Look out that window, Will," she directed, making a vague pointing gesture.
Moving over to the window, Willow glanced out. "Yeah... It's a swimming pool. Been there—actually fucked there— What of it?" she stated in a dry voice.
"If I put someone in there—can you keep them in?" Buffy inquired pensively.
"Sure...there's this great spell. I'll have to be next to it to—" Willow babbled, wondering what her partner had in mind.
Nodding, Buffy continued to play with the chain. "Go do it—don't let anyone see you—come straight back here," she commanded. Moving to capture her witch as she set off out of the room, she asked, "How long will the spell last?"
"Until I break it," Willow replied plainly.
Fishing in her pocket, she placed her keys in Willow's hand. "Lock the door when you get back, don't answer if anyone knocks. I have another key. Just watch out the window. 'Kay?" she instructed in a gentle voice. Gotta remember she's not a minion—not anymore.
Meeting her partner's gaze, Willow nodded her affirmation. Giving her a soft, loving kiss, she made her way out the door.
Moving back to the window, Buffy watched as her witch walked up to the pool. Willow dipped her hand into the water, and mumbled a few words that she couldn't make out. Seeing that her witch was done, she made her way to a small end table. Reaching under it, she pulled the second key from its hiding place, pocketing it quickly. She slipped her jacket off, hanging it on the rack near the door. "Time to start over," she growled. Looping the chain over one arm, she stole out of the room to find Luke.
Locating the hulking vampire at the top of the basement stairs, Buffy asked, "Get the geek?"
"Yes, Mistress," Luke replied. Forming a steeple with his hands, he tilted his head in a reverent bow.
"Fucking zealots," Buffy hissed dismissively.
Luke inquired in a somewhat more timid voice, "Am I to assume the spell—it did not go as expected?" The huge vampire hung his head, awaiting the answer.
"You could say that," Buffy snarled viciously, watching with satisfaction as the large man winced. Motioning Luke past, she commanded, "Get the boys out by the pool. I want a word." Starting down the stairs, she called back, "Meet me at the front door. You have ten minutes. Oh...and, Luke... Never call me 'Mistress' again."
"Yes, Mistress," Luke confirmed dully, turning to follow the first order.
Buffy shook her head. "Boy makes Lyle Gorch look like a fucking brain surgeon," she growled. Bouncing down the stairs, she made eye contact with Dalton who was cowering in the corner of the cell. "Lighten up, Dalton," she whispered, moving to the door of the cell. "Come here," she said in a soothing tone.
Appearing terrified, Dalton did as directed. He stood trembling in front of Buffy, staring at the floor. "J-just make it quick, Miss," he sputtered.
Buffy hissed causing the bookish vampire to jump and her to laugh. "Timid thing... I'd sorta forgotten. It's cool, Dalton. Look, I've got a little deal for you," she said in a voice just above a whisper.
"Y-yes, Miss?" Dalton replied.
Smiling Buffy, said in the same hushed voice, "All the books and all the blood you want. You just gotta do two things."
"Yes, Miss?" Dalton said, looking up in an attempt to determine whether Buffy was lying.
Giving Dalton a sincere glare, Buffy said, "Thing one: you'll never set foot outside this cell again... Thing two: you'll never talk to anyone else 'cept me. Either thing happens...your ass is mine. 'Kay?"
Dalton nodded, making eye contact. "Y-yes, Miss... T-thank you, Miss," he stuttered sheepishly.
"'Kay...I'll get on the books and the blood later," Buffy confirmed. Pushing the bookish vampire's glasses back up his nose, she turned and strutted up the stairs.
As Buffy made her way casually through the mansion, she looked as though she hadn't a care in the world. Still running the links of the chain through her hands, she pushed the double doors open. Winking at Luke as he dutifully met her gaze, she queried in a low growl, "When was the last time you faced one of those pathetic creatures infected with a human soul and allowed it to live?"
Appearing momentarily confused, Luke struggled to resolve a suitable answer. Hanging his head once more in shame, he responded, "I believe it was 1843...Madrid, Mistress. H-he caught me sleeping and—"
Whirling the chain absently at her side Buffy made her way around the large vampire. She watched in amusement as he turned and twitched. "I know how you do love that story. Just wanted to hear it one last time," she purred. As she came around to face him again, her face shifted to reveal the demon. Lashing the chain at his throat, she launched herself forward. Catching the end of the chain as it whipped back toward her, she swung around behind the muscle-bound vampire. Big, slow, and dumb... It's a feature. Pulling the chain tight around his neck, she snapped a kick at the back of her victim's right knee. As the joint tore from the sharp blow Luke staggered, finally collapsing forward.
Easing the pressure on the chain to avoid decapitating her victim, Buffy allowed herself to be pulled down. Straddling the vampire's waist, she returned the tension to the chain, causing Luke's back to arch. "How 'bout we try 'right here, right now'...you fool," she snarled. Sensing that he was attempting to push himself up with his arms, she dropped the chain, quickly seizing him around the chest. Sinking her fangs into his neck, she held on for the ride.
Feeling his life being siphoned away, Luke slammed himself desperately onto his back, trying to crush the small vampire.
Ignoring the panicked throes of her victim, Buffy used the change in position to wrap her legs around his waist and lock her ankles. Compressing both holds tightly, she felt muscles tear and ribs snap in her victim's body. She continued to nurse the wound for all the blood she could drain as Luke thrashed against her. When he was finally too weak to move anymore, she released her hold. Pushing his hulking body aside, she snarled, "Not so much with the pathetic, though. Sorry." Rising to her feet, she gazed down at the emaciated corpse of her victim. Stooping down, she seized the sides of Luke's head and pulled sharply, decapitating him.
Turning her back as Luke burst into flame, she went to retrieve the chain. Snapping the shackle around her right wrist, Buffy ran the length of chain down the underside of her arm. Looping it around the top of her forearm, she began to wrap it around her arm. Weaving the heavy chain over then under the length-wise piece, she brought the end around her knuckles, clutching it tightly in her hand. When she was done, her arm easily weighed ten pounds more than when she had started and was encased in a gauntlet of thick black chain.
Silently, Buffy walked around the house to the pool. Her face still blood stained from the kill, she stood just out of view, scanning the poolside with her golden eyes. Twenty vamps—give, take—sounds about right. Five may run when I open up. Moving purposefully into the pool lights, she asked in a loud voice, "This everyone?" Hearing the affirmation, she rushed forward. Blurring as she spun into the first vamp, she brought her right forearm across his face. He exploded in a cloud of ash before the others could even react. Using the momentum, she carried onto the next vamp. Extending her leg, she kicked him into the pool.
He splashed in but, when he tried to leave the water, the surface acted like an elastic film that only flexed slightly when he pushed against it. Panicking, the thin, dark skinned vampire swam to the shallow end. Pressing with all his might, he found himself unable to stand. He couldn't get a grip to even attempt to tear it. He could bow the surface up, but there was no escaping. Watching the fight from below the water, helpless to do anything, he saw Buffy slam her right fist through his friend's face. That vampire exploded in a shower of ash as she struck the next, sending him into the pool, proving that the pool surface still acted like normal water from that direction.
Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw the Gorch brothers try to make a break for it. Figures...I had them down as a flight risk. Taking three running steps, she threw herself across the surface of the pool. Tucking into a ball in midair, she turned a somersault, landing on her feet, running on the other side. The remaining vampires circled the pool, trying to catch her. Ignoring them, she rounded on the Gorch brothers, herding them back toward the pool. Spinning into a roundhouse, she caught Tector in the chest. He flew backward, breaking the surface of the water. His hat bobbed and floated as he struggled to get out.
Lyle appeared to gain courage as the result of his brother's imprisonment. Could be desperation, Buffy reflected, throwing a straight, right-handed jab at his face. He dodged and she pressed him backward with a straight, snapping kick. More friends closing in from either side, she rushed him. Her form blurring again as she moved, she laughed when he fled straight into the pool in terror. She spun on the first vamp to reach her. Feigning a punch, she easily dodged his sloppy counter. Crouching into a sweeping kick, she took his legs out from under him, giggling as he fell into the pool too. I can smell daylight—need to get on it.
Three more were on her by the time she dropped the first. Her form distorted again as she spun into the closest, striking him across the throat. He was still considering combustion—the necessary result of a missing head—when her foot connected with the next, sending him into the pool. The third was frozen in terror, considering running when she finished her arc. Striking him full on in the face so hard and fast, he saw the first vamp fall to ash while reacting to his own head being shattered.
Releasing her grip on the chain, she shook her arm until the chain hung free, bound to her by the shackle. Grabbing the section of chain just below the shackle in her hand, she raised it over her head, swinging it like a lasso. Snapping it at the head of the closest enemy target, she watched with satisfaction as his face caved in. Charging him, she directed his staggering form into the pool. Using the chain like a whip again, she wrapped it around the throat of her next target of opportunity. Pulling sharply, the vampire spun towards her. His head ripped free as he moved and he exploded in a shower of dust. Charging through the cloud, she pressed on. Flowing into a low sweeping kick, she knocked another into the pool.
Rounding on the remaining four, she smirked. Putting her hands to her sides, she cocked her hip to the right, deciding to see what they would do. Bet they run, she mused. "Unemployment's a total bitch for the undead—isn't it, boys?" she growled.
One of the remaining vampires found the nerve to attack her while his contemporaries stood wide-eyed, their mouths agape. Buffy flung herself at him. Taking the punch, she grabbed the sides of his head. Pressing her knees into his chest as he fell, she ripped his head free as they tumbled. Tucking into a ball, she rolled forward, springing to her feet in front of the remaining three. Wrapping the chain around the throat of the first before he could run, she swiftly garroted him. A spinning kick sent the last two into the pool.
Looking up at the window, she met Willow's gaze. Winking, she shot her witch a sunny smile and bowed. She broke immediately into a sprint for the front door. As she hit the foyer, smoke began to waft from her clothing.
Running through the house, Buffy burst into the room. "Thought I told you to keep that locked?" she said reproachfully.
Turning from the window to look at Buffy, Willow rolled her eyes. "I just unlocked it. Come here—you're gonna love this," she prompted in an amused tone.
Moving quickly over next to Willow to stand the shadow and observe the carnage, Buffy burst into peels of laughter at the steam billowing out of the access cover for the pool's filtration system. "You're fired," she remarked thickly, watching as the pool boiled under the thick film of magick.
"Let the spell be ended," Willow whispered. The tension from the magickal barrier cleared and the surface of the pool released a massive cloud of steam. "Pretty," she remarked appreciatively.
Watching the mist dispel, Buffy peered down at the silver water in the pool. "Pretty much a mess—but, yeah... Very cool," she remarked, absently running the chain through her fingers.
"You know we're gonna have to get the pool boy out here to clean that before—" Willow noted, appearing very much amused.
Looping the section of chain around her witch, Buffy pulled her into an embrace. "After what you did to the last one...they'll be lined up, begging to get the assignment."
"And totally disappointed when they get here," Willow replied bluntly.
Releasing her witch, Buffy walked over to the display case. Motioning for the keys, she took them from her witch. Opening the door, she took an old key from inside. Removing the shackle, she returned the chain and key to their original resting places. Moving the Master's hands back to clutch the chain, she locked the case. Leaving the room, she beckoned Willow to follow. "So we got this whole house to ourselves now," she commented, bouncing down the stairs. "Well, 'cept for the rodent in the basement."
"What rodent?" Willow asked, bounding down the stairs behind her partner.
At the landing, Buffy glanced back up, noting in a supple voice, "I kept one employee—the only useful one of the entire bunch."
"Dalton?" Willow asked pensively.
Buffy nodded, intoning, "Uh-huh," in a subdued manner.
Making her way to the foyer, Willow opened the coat closet. Removing the coolers, she passed one to Buffy.
"Oh... Glad you remembered," Buffy offered graciously, following her witch to the kitchen.
A warm smile played at her features as Willow replied, "It was a pain getting them past the goons, but—yup—I remembered. Besides...I had the keys—and what with the exhibition slayage—"
"Enjoyed that did you?" Buffy asked brightly.
Glancing back to flash her partner a seductive smile, Willow commented, "Very sexy." Opening the refrigerator, she began to hastily stow the blood away.
As they finished with the last of the deposit, Buffy dully directed, "Bed."
"Like I'd say 'no'," Willow quipped playfully.
Smiling, Buffy took her witch's hand and lead her through the mansion.
As they approached Buffy's room, Willow's mind began to race. I've never even been in her room. Should be interesting... She's such a private person—always with the mystery. Made me want her more— Passing through the doorway, she found herself in a massive space that looked more like a sitting room than a bedroom. To her surprise, the drapes over the French doors and windows that ran the length of the far wall all hung open. Shying away from the light, she took a seat on one of the sofas. She was stunned when Buffy stripped completely naked in front of the window.
Noting the expression on her witch's face, Buffy said, "Special coating—daylight without those annoying flamey side effects. And no one can see in. I had to have it." Turning to make her way to the bathroom, she remarked, "Sorry, I gotta have a quick shower." Wandering into the bathroom, she left the door open as an invitation.
Willow stood up, moving into the light. The warmth of the sun felt amazing. No wonder she all but lived in this room. Taking a seat in the sunlight, she patiently waited for her partner to return.
Laughing softly as she reentered the room, Buffy asked, "Not turning modest on me are you?"
Turning to meet Buffy's gaze, Willow said sheepishly "No, just— I don't wanna screw this up, so..."
Beckoning her witch forward, Buffy began to peel the cocktail dress off. Speaking in a soft distant voice, she said, "Dunno if you've been taking notes...this started screwed up." After hanging up the dress, she took Willow by the hand. When they passed by the door, she locked it. As she crossed the room again, she hit a button on one of the remotes on an end table, causing the drapes to begin to slowly slide shut. Climbing into the bed, she pulled her witch in with her.
Snuggling her partner, Willow pulled the blankets over them. "So why a king-size waterbed if—?"
"Well the 'waterbed' part is simple: I'm always cold. Suppose that's part of being dead. The size? Why not? I'm sorta rich so, may as well live it—even if you're not living," Buffy answered, shrugging her shoulders slightly.
Giving her partner a pensive glance, Willow asked, "But you never saw yourself sharing it?"
"Never," Buffy replied matter-of-factly. Turning onto her back, she pulled Willow up close, positioning her limbs gently. Shutting her eyes, she relaxed for sleep.
***********
Cracking an eyelid, Buffy peered around her dimly lit room. Starting to rise, she heard someone clear their throat. Torn between wanting to cover herself and a strong desire to rip the head off her intruder, she froze as he spoke in a thick, Brooklyn accent.
"Name's Whistler," he drawled. Shifting in his seat, he pressed the button to open the drapes. Watching as Buffy instinctively pulled the blankets up to hide herself, he grinned wolfishly.