Blood Letting
by Valyssia
Letting Go
[reviews]
Shit adds up at the bottom. You've left me no choice but to go inside and rebuild what's broken. Too much, too far, too late to lie down now...
Reaching behind the headboard, Buffy grabbed one of the throwing knives conveniently stashed for just such an occasion. Without comment or question, she winged the knife as hard as she could at the demon.
Leaping to his feet, Whistler put his hands to the knife sticking out of his chest. "Hey! This was my favorite shirt," he bantered, trying to cover the pain.
Stretching to retrieve the next knife, Buffy snarked, "What thrift store you steal it from?"
Making his way swiftly to the door, Whistler hastily remarked, "Okay...okay... I'll wait downstairs." Turning the doorknob, he added, "Hey, Goldilocks, it's not like I asked for this shit assignment. I just go where the Powers send me." As he opened the door, passing swiftly through it, the second knife stuck at eye-level. "Beginning to think they hate me," he grumbled. After closing the door behind him, he made his way down the stairs, yanking the knife from his chest as he moved. Jeeze! Yeah, they hate me. What the hell did I do to draw the short straw on this one?
***********
Rolling out of bed, Buffy made her way to the door, murmuring the 'Carlin Seven' under her breath like a mantra as she moved. Locking the door, she asked, "Will, you awake?"
"Yeah... Been awake," Willow confirmed. Sitting up, she quipped, "Yup, you still look like a fifteen-year-old girl. Strange, you sound like a sailor."
Crossing the room to dress, Buffy growled, "Killing before coffee makes me cranky."
Willow stood up to retrieve her clothing. "Killing? Why killing?" she asked, appearing confused.
Sorting through her dresser, Buffy started selecting something to wear as she spoke, "Demon in my room, Will," acting as thought she thought her witch might have missed a critical detail.
Willow nodded. "Got that," she said patiently. Pausing to pull an over-sized t-shirt on, she queried, "Buffy, when was the last time you stuck a knife in a demon's chest, and it didn't, ummm... Try to rip your arm off and beat you with it or...you know—something just as demony and violent?"
Rushing to put her clothing on, Buffy responded, "Pretty much never, but—"
Cutting her partner off mid-sentence, Willow asked sweetly, "Hear him out. Kill him if he tries to kill you. 'Kay? For me?"
"But, Will," Buffy whined.
"I'm curious, aren't you?" Willow prompted in a gentle voice.
***********
Whistler flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, clutching a dishtowel to his chest. Dropping the bloody knife on the table in front of him, he groaned, "God damned vampires! Only thing in the house—coffee and blood..." I'll be lucky if I don't leave here in trash bags. Got news for the bosses: serial killer with a soul...still a serial killer. Watching Buffy as she walked into the room, he commented, "Look, kiddo, gimme a chance here... Next guy they send won't be half as charming."
"Next guy?" Buffy inquired. Shooting a glance at the greasy little demon, she made her way to the counter to put coffee on. Anything would be better. This asshole looks like a skinny Louie De Palma.
"Yeah... Got no idea why, but you caught their interest. It won't stop with me. Next guy—think 'Predator,'" Whistler confirmed. Slouching in his seat, he lifted the bloody dishtowel to look at the chest wound. Sighing as it continued to seep blood, he clutched the towel to his chest again. "You got anything better for this?" he queried, motioning to his chest with his free hand.
Buffy crossed the room, pointedly ignoring the demon, then sat down, reclining nonchalantly back in the chair. She reached across the table, seizing the knife. As she began to absently toy with the blade, she remarked in a bored voice, "Means nothing to me. They send it; I kill it. Only reason I'm not dragging your mutilated corpse out the door now is 'cause of Will. Start with the talking—make it good."
Looking over the black leather clad 'girl,' Whistler replied, "Okay... Keep in mind you asked, blondie." He looked over at the witch as she made her way into the room and began getting coffee cups out. Trying not to leer at the cute redhead in the little green dress as she stretched, he set his attention back on the blonde. I want to come out of this in one piece... Blondie may kill me for gettin' too friendly with the little missus. "See—thing is..." he started in a low careful tone. Steeling himself for the next blade, he spat it out, "Since you got your soul back, It's been business as usual: brutal death, explosions and mayhem... Don't you own a conscience?"
"A what?" Buffy snorted, beginning to laugh hysterically. Calming herself slightly as Willow placed a cup of coffee in front of her, she got up and dropped the knife in the sink.
"A conscience... You know—should twinge a little when you do somethin' wrong?" Whistler offered, sounding slightly exacerbated.
Sucking the blood off her fingers, Buffy returned to the table, pausing to give her witch a lingering, passion-steeped kiss. She finally reclaimed her seat, shrugging slightly as she returned her attention to Whistler.
"Do you at least feel a little guilt?" Whistler queried hopefully.
Snickering slightly, Buffy threw her hands up and shrugged again.
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Uh—boy... Let's look a minute at what you've done since you got your soul back, kid. First thing... You turn one of the most powerful witches in the western hemisphere into a demon. Not like she wasn't a nightmare, what with all the help you gave her before, but—"
Willow's face lit up and she interjected in a perky voice, "Really? Most powerful?"
"Not the point, dollface," Whistler said, glancing at the witch. Returning his attention to Buffy, he continued, "Then you spent the next five full days tryin' to lose your soul. Like you could—wishes... It wasn't till crunch time that you bothered with the witch's soul, and then only because you were concerned for you. And there was that little matter with the car."
"They were lawyers!" Buffy spat defensively.
"You parked a Gruppe B in the lobby of a major law firm, blondie. Subtle, you're not," Whistler replied, rallying his patience.
"A what?" Buffy asked, appearing momentarily confused.
Rubbing his eyes, Whistler commented under his breath, "The car, kiddo... You know—the million dollar Porsche?" Watching as the lights came on in the little blonde vampire's eyes, he continued, "It was the law office of evil incorporated, but you didn't know that."
Speaking up, Willow inquired thickly, "You did what?" bursting into peels of laughter.
"You got lucky... Point is...you didn't know... More anarchy and chaos—just for fun," Whistler offered, trying to keep a straight face. Lifting the towel to check the bleeding again, he tossed it on the table, noting that the wound had started to heal.
Shaking his head, Whistler set off again, attempting to chide the little blonde vampire, "Thing is, kiddo—the whole 'Jiffy Pop soul' bit: gypsies," he chuckled, "You couldn't have cheesed that one more if you'd tried. Got a little secret for you both 'bout gypsies, they're known for a coupla things: bad hygiene and holdin' grudges. That little spell the old man used wasn't written as a kindness. It exists as a punishment. The whole idea is to make you guilt. Why you girls seem immune is beyond me, but Angel...he was livin' on rats when you off'ed him 'cause of that little spell. And he was set to be the Powers next big hitter."
"Angel? You mean Angelus? He deserved what he got," Buffy snarled, her face darkened as she spoke. Pausing to reflect, she queried, "And what do you mean 'hitter'?"
"Angel was gonna be our next champion. Had him all lined up. Then Darla—bitch really screwed the pooch for us," Whistler offered in a dull voice.
"What was...the 'Jiffy Pop' thing—what do you mean 'Jiffy Pop'?" Willow asked pensively.
Whistler smiled, turning his gaze from Buffy—who was still trying to catch up—to the young witch. "Don't miss much, do you, sweetheart?" Growing serious, he explained, "Your soul's as slippery as a greased weasel. Spell's got a major hitch—you get a real happy, and it falls out." With a grin, he remarked, "Like playin' with fire doncha? All snuggly with your little blonde friend," giving Willow a wink.
Pulling herself out of her musings, Buffy glanced at the dark look on her witch's face, then back at Whistler. "What'd you mean before when you said 'wishes'?" she asked bluntly.
Whistler smiled at the witch as she cringed. "Only know what they tell me, kid. Your soul's permanent. Your little friend...hers is hangin' by a thread," he replied smoothly.
Taking in the guilty look on Willow's face, Buffy demanded, "Spill."
Getting up to fetch another cup of coffee, Willow admitted the truth, keeping her back turned the entire time. I don't wanna see it coming. When she finally turned back to face the room, Buffy was holding out her coffee cup, and Whistler was looking needy. "You're not mad?" she asked nervously, taking her partner's cup.
"Not mad—dunno why yet... More for the self-reflection pile," Buffy replied in a soft thoughtful voice.
"Yeah, so... This is touching, but on a clock here," Whistler interjected impatiently, trying to catch the attention of the two young women. He waited until Willow returned to the table, taking a seat. "Powers got your number, blondie. They want you to play champion. Figure you volunteered by gutting their last choice. See—thing is...you gotta knock off the blood bath. So let me make this simple for ya. If you saw it in 'Fight Club,' it's prob'ly a bad thing. Torture's not really their style."
"Really? We are talking about—?" Willow queried, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling. When Whistler nodded, she commented sarcastically, "But it was okay for the Catholic Church? Remember that little party they called the Spanish Inquisition? Or, hey—here's one that hits close—how about the Salem Witch Trials?" Snickering loudly, she added in a voice thick with mirth, "Torture not really their style? Want me to go on? I think their followers wrote the book on abhorrent behavior."
"Okay... You got me there, Red... Again, just the messenger," Whistler confirmed. "Just know that humans—regardless how screwed up—they tend to change. It's part of their condition. Killin'em—it's prob'ly bad...whatever your thoughts. So you might want to figure a better way. Plus, takin' out the evil-doer? Though, I can sorta see why you girls might wanna take a page from a homoerotic vampire romance—I think you got more style than that."
Willow glared at Whistler. He has a point. Annoying little asshole.
All but ignoring the interplay between her witch and the sleazy demon, Buffy redirected, "So go back to this 'champion' thing. They want me to play hero?"
"You got it, blondie. I'll prob'ly get fired for sayin' this...but I think they're nuts," Whistler replied. Cringing slightly as he spoke the final few words, he added in a soft thoughtful tone, "Guess it's that you've been doin' the right thing, the wrong way, and for all the wrong reasons for so long. They figure if they can get your motives sorted, you'll be one hell of an ally."
"What do—?" Buffy asked pensively.
Cutting the blonde off, Whistler directed, "Same thing you been doin'. Keep the slayer alive. That's your first job."
"Been keeping her alive," Buffy said, putting her hands up is if to say 'duh'.
Whistler shrugged. "Like I said... You need to cut the shit and get over there, though. Something's coming down tonight...something big. Who knows—you do good—the Powers may even perma-soul your little girlfriend. Not a bad plan from where I sit." Rising to take his leave, he added, "It's been a blast, ladies. Don't call me."
"Girlfriend?" Buffy mumbled softly, rising from her chair. She stood for a moment or two considering whether to see if beheading the greasy little demon would work. By the time the debate was over, he was long gone. Girlfriend? Guess it's fair—what, with the smoochies, but I—it sounds different coming from someone else. 'Kay...so, page down—got the memo—you feel something for her. What this whole movie's been about. Girlfriend. She shrugged, turning to make breakfast.
Willow stood up. "I'm gonna take Dalton some books and some blood. He's gotta be starved," she offered. Girlfriend. She smirked softly to herself as she emptied the packet of blood into a large mug. That 'soul' thing's scary though. Getting Dalton on the research is a plan.
"'Kay... Let me know if he says anything to ya. I'll make ours to go. We should make sure Faithy's still living," Buffy said, getting out two travel mugs. She does seem to love me even with all the 'attractive' features. And I could do lots worse. Damned cute—never really looked, but did notice her. I mean, the only ones she didn't manage to seduce were the religious nutjobs. Could've been that she answered the door wearing nothing 'cept a large snake... That was funny. They threw their books and ran. Who knows how that one would've ended without the black-eyed and veiny thing? I might've had a Mormon for dinner.
***********
Pulling a pair of small, dark, wire-framed sunglasses down from the visor, Buffy took another drink out of her travel mug as they sped along, then returned the cup to the console.
Giving her partner a perplexed glance, Willow queried, "Why the sunglasses?"
"It's a thing with me... I can't drink and not go a bit vampy," Buffy replied. Sliding the glasses down her nose, she revealed her amber eyes.
"Are mine?" Willow asked pensively.
Glancing over at her witch, Buffy confirmed, "Yup... And you got a bit of the bumpy brow. You can control that, but you gotta concentrate. The eyes are a tough one, though—never got it." Sliding her smokes out of her jacket, she lit one and took a deep drag, flipping the ash absently out the window. Shuffling through the contents of the console, she tossed a pair of sunglasses at Willow that were nearly identical to the ones she had on.
Putting the dark glasses on, Willow grinned. "Spares?"
"Part of the trick is learning to hide—looking human—no matter what," Buffy remarked offhandedly as she maneuvered the car around a turn.
Chuckling softly, Willow remarked, "So... Now you're giving me lessons in subtle. Too funny."
Shooting Willow a mischievous glance, Buffy quipped, "We're on a mission from God...to save Faith. We got a half tank of gas, a pack and a half of cigarettes, its dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."
Willow groaned. Slouching down in the seat of the car, she put her hand over her face.
"And what's up with the smoke?" Buffy asked as she turned the corner just down from Giles' apartment. Dropping the clutch, she hit the throttle, sliding the car through the remainder of the turn. The length of the street blurred by and seconds later the car was sliding to a stop. Stomping the emergency brake, she popped the car out of gear.
Willow watched as her partner exited via the open window, Buffy was on her feet and running before she even managed to get the door open. Standing up to observe the chaos, she watched as people piled out of the apartments.
Seeing a familiar face in the crowd, Buffy glared at the other witch as she shouted, "Where?" Keeping distance between herself and the building, she ran around the side of the apartment where Amy directed. Almost falling over when she ran headlong into the largest female vampire she'd ever laid eyes on. The tall, slender vampire had Faith in a choke hold with the scythe. "Shit," she gasped, not really paying attention to the mouth-brain connection. Bitch has at least a foot on me. Get me a ladder or some rope, then maybe— From the sideline she heard someone yell, "Come on! Get moving!"
Not even bothering to look, Buffy laid straight into the other vamp, opening with a downward thrusting kick to an extended knee. Her target spun as she kicked. Slayer, of course. Amazon-vamp here—couldn't be just that, could she? Tossing Faith aside to a tiny, raven-haired vamp, she kept the scythe. Great! Two targets—no waiting...and Cruella's looking like a handful. Throwing a straight right jab at the larger vampire, she watched as the blow was expertly blocked with a sweep of the arm. Yup...problem, she reflected, blocking a kick with her forearm as she glanced quickly sideways. Bitch kicks like a mule. The smaller of the two vampires was starting to pull back with Faith in tow, thrashing and cursing.
Fuck it, flitted across Buffy's mind as she closed the distance between herself and the smaller vamp, leaping the hood of a car to catch up. If she does circle and get behind me, at least she'll be in close—I hope. Can't fight something like that at a distance. She's got, like, twelve feet of reach on me and just as much speed. She dove at the little vampire. Grabbing her shoulder, she spun her to put her down. Taking the fall with the smaller vamp and Faith, Buffy landed on her knees. Another slayer, but not as—well...scary... Hard to be scared of a doe-eyed, little Italian girl... She's smaller than me. Turning toward the pair, she pushed Faith out of the line of fire, delivering a brutal punch to the cheek of the tiny vampire. The side of the girl's face caved under the blow, but she continued clutching the struggling slayer. At the smell of blood, Buffy's face involuntarily shifted, revealing the monster. She couldn't help but grin as Faith head-butted the girl, smashing her nose and driving the back of her head into the tarmac.
Trying to rise, Buffy felt her ribs snap when the larger of the two vampires caught up. Falling backward, she looked up. What she saw was not at all what she expected. The tall vampire was drenched in what looked to be sweat. Her long black haired clung to her face as her tanned skin glistened in the street lamps. Since when do vamps sweat? More importantly, she seemed to be straining to move. Bouncing to her feet, Buffy ignored the pain. Glancing down she saw that a similar fate had befallen the smaller of the two.
Rushing forward, Buffy opened up on the larger, crippling her with a well placed blow to the knee. Returning the favor by breaking another rib or two, she easily blocked the now-slower counter punches. Turning back to the smaller vampire, she glanced down. Her clothing was soaked, her face was smashed, and she was barely moving. No mercy. She kicked the girl as hard as she could in the side of the head. The vampire disintegrated to ash, leaving Faith lying on the street. Shame...
By the time Buffy's attention turned back to the larger vampire, she was hobbling down the street with the scythe. Glancing back toward the apartments, her gaze landed on Willow, who smiled and winked. "Faith," she snapped, directing her witch to take the slayer. Setting off at top speed after the tall vampire, she launched into her, catching her with both feet in a flying kick delivered to the small of the back. The scythe flew out of her victim's hands as they fell together; it skittered down the road, scattering sparks. Landing on her back, Buffy swung her legs, propelling herself to her feet again. She squared off with the tall vampire who had managed to rise as well. Buffy moved straight into a series of vicious punches, feeling the vampire's ribs snap as each blow hit home.
"Break my ribs, bitch!" Buffy snarled, kicking the other vampire in the stomach. She watched as her target landed flat on her back. Water or sweat—she couldn't decide which—sprayed off her victim, glistening in the street lamps as it rained down in a shower of tiny droplets. That's so weird, she mused as she drove her foot into the vampire's side. Eww 'Kay, so—bad idea, she considered as she pulled her foot out of the woman's chest. Reaching down, she grabbed her victim by the sides of the head, twisting and pulling. She held the head for a second before it combusted into ash in her hands. Thick black hair— pretty complexion—Native American... I remember this one—no clue she was— What a waste. By the time she turned to retrieve the scythe it was no longer there. "Crap!" she spat. Turning to make her way back to her witch, she shook her head, forcing her face to shift back to the human mask. Shoulda known—third voice... Totally spaced it...
As she walked, Buffy spied a puddle created by the copious amounts of water the firemen were spraying at the ruined apartment complex. Stooping to wash her boot, she surveyed the crowd at the end of the alley. Meeting her witch's gaze as she approached, Buffy asked, "That you?" grinning as she looked deep into the hazel eyes of her partner.
Willow smirked. "Uh huh... Like it?"
"Beautiful...and not a single dark root. So what gives?" Buffy asked, looking her witch over. She rubbed her side and groaned as she stood.
"It just came to me: fifty-five to, like, sixty percent—gently called it—we're mostly water. They sorta melted down," Willow babbled excitedly. Shooting her partner a concerned look, she asked, "You gonna be okay?
Dismissing the concern casually, Buffy drawled, "I'll be fine in an hour or so—give-take." Smiling proudly at her witch, she then turned her attention to Faith. "One word and you're riding in the trunk," she snarked playfully.
"Thanks," Faith replied grudgingly. Not forgetting this is her mess. Get past it and maybe— Know where my wager's goin'. Shooting a meaningful glance at Amy, she turned back to regard their uneasy allies.
"'Kay... Not the word I was expecting. You're off the hook," Buffy remarked. Putting her arm around Willow, she caressed her witch's side.
Jonathan sheepishly held out a set of keys to the vampire.
Taking the keys, Buffy looked at them for a moment before speaking. "You moved the car?"
"It was that or they were going to—" Jonathan replied defensively, glancing over at the smoldering rubble that was Giles home.
"Not mad— Thanks," Buffy said pointedly. Meeting Jonathan's gaze momentarily, she paused to glance around at the chaos in front of the apartments. "We might wanna bail, though," she directed in a firm voice.
"Wait for me. I'll get Giles," Amy shot back at the group. Dropping Faith's hand, she pressed off through the crowd toward the front of the house.
Buffy rolled her eyes as she followed Jonathan and Faith to discover what had become of the car. How'd I get stuck with—? Guess they come as a set. Collect all four.
***********
"Four of us in three days. She's picking us off like flies," Rona remarked, nervously clutching the scythe as she jogged through a thinly wooded area at the edge of town.
Keeping pace, Vi replied, "Yeah...and Shane was one of the best fighters. Heather had some training too. Eve and Chloe weren't really all that surprising. Eve being selected to do more than order pizza was the real shock, the way she returned—"
Shooting her friend a significant glance, Rona replied truthfully, "You ask me, this is pretty much suicide."
"I doubt we'd make it far if we—" Vi offered in an almost frightened voice.
"Dunno... We could drop the scythe, hit the harbor and give it a shot," Rona said pensively. As the words crossed her lips there was a whooshing sound and her body began to combust. She collapsed to her knees, sending the scythe skipping across the forest floor. Before the scythe came to a halt, she was ashes on the ground.
Vi scanned the trees trying to locate the source. An arrow... It had to be. As the thought entered her mind, a crossbow bolt stuck in her chest. She fell forward, a cloud of dust rolling off the ground where she landed.
***********
After stowing the final armload of boxes in the trunk, Buffy pushed the luggage cart back into the hotel. When she was returning to her car, Giles motioned to her from his little gray Citro'n. Car suits him, she mused as she made her way to the driver's door, snagging her travel mug off the roof of the Trans Am en route.
"Are you certain? I, for one, would strongly prefer to take a room here," Giles offered bluntly. He found himself a bit unnerved by the lack of eye contact due to the dark glasses the vampire wore. What sort of creature wears sunglasses on the night of the new moon? How on earth does she even see?
A wicked smile played at Buffy's features as she took in the leery expression on the watcher's face. She slid the glasses to the tip of her nose, revealing bright golden eyes. Screwing with him—it just never gets old. Taking a sip off the mug, she pushed the sunglasses back into place, leaning on the window seal of the car. "Do whatcha want, Jeeves...makes no diff to me. Get yourself nabbed...don't expect a rescue," she retorted snidely, watching in amusement as Jonathan did his best to disappear in the passenger seat.
"Yes, right then. Perhaps you have a point," Giles replied in an arid tone.
Buffy smirked. Taking another sip, she commented wryly, "Course I have a point. The best way to hit something's to pick the soft targets. Doesn't get much softer than you, Giles. Well, unless you count—" She pointed at Jonathan. Buffy started to move to the driver's side of the Trans Am. "Get it figured quick, guys," she called out as she slid into her seat, placing her cup in the console.
"What was that about?" Willow queried pensively.
Giggling softly, Buffy answered in a voice thick with mirth, "The tweed-wearing, English librarian is having trouble with the idea of spending the night in the vampire's castle. It's a first." She fired the engine to life, pulling out of the parking slot and onto the street. She was taken aback when she heard laughter from the rear seat.
Leaning over to Faith, Amy whispered, "It's blue now."
"What's blue?" Buffy managed to ask before Faith, glancing in the rearview mirror to gauge the expression on Amy's face.
Amy blushed. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"Take a clue...vampire and slayer. Mouse gets an itch in that field," Buffy motioned out the car window, "I'll hear it. Now what's blue?"
"Your aura," Amy replied frankly.
Looking back in the rearview, Buffy asked, "What's that mean?"
"Means you're actually trying to help them," Willow interjected, cutting Amy off.
"Yeah," Amy confirmed, sounding a little mystified. She paused a moment to consider how much she should say next. Focusing her attention on Faith, she ignored the other two as she reflected, "See, first time I saw it...well, it was a dark, bloody red—liked dried blood. Not a good sign. I mean seeing it at all was a good sign, but the intent—sort of means she was thinking about murder. Big surprise. But it was patchy and flashing brown, so...some hope."
"When?" Buffy asked in a curious tone, peering in the mirror to gauge her passenger's reactions again.
"In the hospital," Amy replied. Breaking eye contact with Faith, she looked at the rearview mirror, forgetting momentarily that there would be no reflection.
Buffy snickered. "Murder... Yeah, I was pissed. Between that stupid vamp and the nurse—small miracle no one died." Checking the mirror to make sure the little grey car was still on their six, she signaled the turn into her driveway.
"Brown?" Faith inquired, wanting the last detail.
"Depending on the hue, means she was overloaded...stressed," Willow offered, breaking into the conversation again.
"That's how I took it," Amy confirmed.
"'Stressed' covers it," Buffy replied as she parked the car in front of the mansion. Swinging the door open, she grabbed her travel cup. As she climbed out of the car she said in a low dry voice, "Bitch was trying to kill my slayer."
Weaving her way out of the rear seat of the car, Faith called after the vampire, "Your slayer? What the fuck?"
Opening the door to her home, Buffy made eye contact with the slayer as she approached. "You heard me. I kept you alive for years, Faith," she growled. Taking in the scathing look on her slayer's face, she couldn't help by smirk as she motioned her guests inside.
"Why?" Faith queried in a low dangerous voice. Watching Buffy remove the dark glasses and reveal tawny eyes, she absently took the hand Amy offered.
Stashing the sunglasses inside her jacket, Buffy simply responded, "The devil you know." Sensing Willow's presence next to her, she took her witch's hand, continuing to stare the slayer down. "You always did have sort of a dark side, Faith. I just figured the replacement wouldn't be half as entertaining."
"We gonna stand out here all night, or—?" Willow asked impatiently. Winking at Amy when their gazes met, she added, "I mean the pissing contest is intriguing, but—" Pulling Buffy in the house, she turned to lock the door. Leading their visitors into a large conference room off the main hall, she broke off to take the travel cups into the kitchen and rinse them.
Moving to the head of the table, Buffy said, "The entire east wing's vacant. Pick a room, guys. I sorta fired my staff last night. You're free to wander—just stay outta the basement."
"Keeping the 'Three Sisters' down there, I suppose?" Giles sniped wryly, taking a seat.
"Nah... Vamp-geek named Dalton—research nerd. I just don't want to have to kill him. He's occasionally useful," Buffy replied, giggling under her breath as she spoke. Taking in the puzzled looks around her, she added, "Told him not to talk to anyone but me. More people—more chance he'll get stupid."
Making her way into the room with a tray, Willow placed it on the table, pushing it to the center within reach of their guests. "Coffee?"
"Actually, I'm gonna go get a drink. My head's pounding," Buffy commented abruptly, getting up she opened a set of double doors hidden in the paneling. A large liquor cabinet swung into view. "Help yourself, if you want," she offered. Opening a small refrigerator to retrieve the orange and grapefruit juice, she began to mix her favorite. Returning to her seat, she took a drink. "Not sure how to even begin... Know you guys have zero reason to trust. Only reason you're here is 'cause you've got nowhere else to go."
Giles got up, looking over the selection. Fifty-year-old scotch? Very good. Might as well enjoy the amenities. At this juncture there's little else to do. He poured himself a drink while Buffy spoke. Returning to his seat, he glanced over at their vampire host. "I, too, am with you. I don't even know where to begin. Perhaps we should concentrate on the matter at hand. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner we may part company," he offered pensively. Taking a sip of the scotch, he reflected, Yes, very good. It's the remainder of our situation that's mad as a hatter.
"Oh, trust me, Giles... Can't make that too soon for me but, fact is... You're safer here," Buffy grumbled, taking another healthy gulp of her drink.
Willow took a sip of her coffee. "Hold up, guys. I don't see any reason we can't work together."
Snickering softly, Faith interjected, "Yeah, none at all, 'less you count bein' mortal enemies."
"Well, this is going nowhere fast," Buffy growled under her breath, taking another sip of her cocktail. She's totally right. No reason 'cept the obvious.
Rallying his courage, Jonathan looked around the table, his gaze finally settling on the coffee cup in front of him. "What happened to you, Buffy?" he eventually managed to ask in a voice just above a whisper.
"Whatcha mean, Jonathan?" Buffy replied, turning her attention to the shy young man. She was slightly thrown when he looked up to meet her gaze. Go, Jonathan. May be hope for the boy yet.
Jonathan maintained eye contact despite the fact that every fiber of his being was telling him it was a terrible idea to challenge the crazy vampire. One of us needs to find the cojones to ask the real questions here or this'll break down all too fast. "Last I saw you were running out the door of the vineyard carrying—" He nodded at Willow. "Then you show back up after a week and Amy says you have a soul? She's a vampire, obviously ensouled too," he noted, nodding again at Willow. "Now you two are trying to play good-guys. At least I think that's what this is."
Turning to meet her witch's gaze, Buffy took in the affirming nod she received. Downing the last sip of her drink, she got up to mix another. As she moved she began to fill in the blanks for her guests, skipping a few key details she felt were none of their business but including the visit from Whistler and the task with which she had been charged. Returning to her seat, she concluded, "I'm totally clueless... But I got nothin' better—and these girls are my problem. So I figure I start there: saving Faith."
Shooting Buffy cold glare, Faith broke into a smirk as she noted, "So you got your soul back during the spell? Damn, B. No wonder you were fallin' all over. Thought I might actually take ya."
"Never happen, F.," Buffy retorted sharply. Returning the smirk, she turned her attention to the tumbler in her hands. Gazing into it, she appeared distant and pensive. Taking another drink, she finally asked, "Any of you grab an old book at the vineyard?" Taking in the chorus of 'no's and shaking heads, she said, "We got trouble."
"What was this book?" Giles queried thoughtfully, taking a sip of his scotch. He was half fearful of the answer.
"Old watchers' diary—basically Slayer 101... It was what we used to figure out the spell—lots of handwritten notes—pretty much a 'how to.' There was even a spell to locate a potential," Buffy confirmed. Her gaze fell back to her cocktail as she spoke in a low even voice. "See, thing is...slayers aren't just randomly picked. The original spell goes for the top of the food chain first: the best. So what I got—before you stopped it—were pretty much the strongest, smartest, fastest."
"And if the book ended up in the hands of—I was right," Jonathan whispered, taking another sip of coffee.
Turning her gaze to the slayer, Buffy queried, "How many girls you see turned, Faith? You had the visions too."
Thinking back to what she had seen, Faith tried to tally some sort of answer in her head. "Dunno... Maybe twenty-five or thirty tops, that didn't turn to dust."
"Sounds about right," Buffy confirmed. "Spell didn't run that long before you went for the scythe—few seconds maybe. Anyway—fact is, last time anyone was that interested in the scythe and the slayer it was me...and what I wanted... So, makes the most sense. It's what I'd do."
"Thing is—basic magical principles—let's hope they don't get this—you need one of each to make the spell work," Willow babbled thoughtfully.
Peering pensively at her witch, Buffy asked, "Whatcha mean, Will?"
It was Giles that interjected with the answer, "They may already have all the components they need."
"Yeah," Willow replied, appearing extremely uneasy. "They need the slayer, vamp, and potential—all together—the blood of each. Doesn't really matter how you mix them. There would be a minor wording change in the spell but, if they have the power to do it—they'd have the brains to get it figured," she babbled nervously. Turning to meet her partner's gaze, she added, "And if they do succeed...they'll have you."
"I don't think they have the smarts to move on it tonight. It's really late and, besides, if they had it together—you guys would have a problem. So...all in favor of—tomorrow, dark and early—me introducing these girls to their insides?" Buffy offered in response to her witch's comment, smirking at the nods from around the table.
Amy glanced around the table briefly before speaking. "I think I know where to start looking."
Looking up from her cup, Willow asked, half-knowing the answer already, "Where?"
"Rack. He'll do anything for the right price," Amy replied, reaching over reclaim Faith's hand.
"I'm gonna go talk to Dalton. See what he thinks. Take him some dinner and some more books," Buffy said, rising from the table.
Flashing a needy glance at Buffy, Willow asked, "Oh... Would you mind—? Could you tell him it's okay to speak to me? Poor thing looked terrified when I talked to him this morning." Leaving her place at the table, she made her way to her partner, giving her a gentle hug.
"Sure, Will... Whatever...I just wanna make sure he doesn't—" Buffy replied. Leaning in to give her witch a soft kiss, she continued, "Vamps aren't the most trustworthy." I need to have my head examined. Folding to the puppy eyes—telling the geeks the truth—any version of it... I'm losing it.
"Would you mind if I ordered a pizza?" Jonathan interjected sheepishly. Hungry...and I bet all they have here is blood.
"Sure, phone's right over there," Buffy responded, pointing vaguely at a table in the corner of the room.
Watching as the two vampires exited, Giles asked the group at large, "What are your thoughts?"
Faith spoke up first, "Me? Bad as I hate to admit it, I think B.'s tellin' the truth."
"I'm reading a bit of confusion, but I think she was being honest," Amy added.
Turning to look at Jonathan, Giles prompted, "And you?"
"I'm worried. I mean, she seemed sincere, but I don't trust her," Jonathan answered in an aloof tone. Picking up the phone, he queried, "Any requests?"
***********
Bouncing down the basement stairs, Buffy remarked wryly, "I think I'm losing my mind."
"I think you're more together now than you have been the entire time I've known you," Willow replied pensively.
Glancing back at her witch, Buffy quipped, "You just like—"
Willow smirked. "Well yeah... But it's not that. You actually— I dunno...it's almost like you care about something besides you. Seems like you care about what happens to—"
"Bite your tongue," Buffy cut in, giggling as she finished. Making her way to the cell, she said, "Dalton—minor amendment to our agreement. You can talk to Willow. We have guests. Should one of them get lost: no talking."
"Yes, Miss," Dalton replied, graciously taking the book and mug that were offered.
"Kinda busy now, but we'll get you better soon," Buffy commented, smiling warmly at the bookish vampire.
"Dalton, we were wondering what your opinion—you know—the spell—the potentials—could it be restarted?" Willow queried, furrowing her brow as she spoke. I know it can; bet he verifies the rest of my theory.
"Certainly, Miss. If it were restarted before the next lunar cycle it would default to the original host," Dalton responded matter-of-factly.
"Dalton, tonight's the new moon," Willow offered. Pausing to make eye contact, she added, "Thank you." What I thought. Not that it matters.
"Yeah, thanks," Buffy said offhandedly, turning to make her way back up the stairs. Sounds like if it goes that far—dusting this bitch—gonna be a total plan. Like I'd have another.
"Dalton, I'd like you to see if you can find a way to reverse it? Would you do that please?" Willow asked hopefully. Handing the other vampire another book, she turned to follow her partner up the stairs.
"Yes, Miss," Dalton called after the witch.
"You sure that's a good idea, Will?" Buffy queried, taking her witch's hand. "I mean my soul's tied—"
Allowing herself to be led, Willow replied, "Your soul was wished in—shouldn't matter. I mean, if you could take it all back, wouldn't you?"
Appearing sullen and withdrawn, Buffy nodded. "Suppose it'll keep him busy too."
"Yup," Willow confirmed. "Actually, that's a great idea."
"What, Will?" Buffy asked, glancing at her witch.
"If we could—" Willow said. Dropping off mid-sentence, she turned and started back downstairs, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be right there."
"Think I need another drink," Buffy muttered under her breath. Shaking her head, she set off through the house. Entering the conference room, she nodded at her guests, turning away from them to replenish her glass.
Giles approached the vampire cautiously. "On what have you been feeding?" he asked in a low gruff tone.
"Huh?" Buffy gasped. Turning slightly to recognize Faith's watcher, she replied, "Mostly what we can steal. Don't like it, but—"
"As I suspected... Are you aware that there is a blood shortage? They've been calling for donors. People may die, despite your best efforts," Giles said in a dry voice.
"What? No way! We left lots," Buffy responded defensively.
Dismissing what he heard in turn, Giles retorted in an accusing tone, "What makes you think you even need human blood?"
Rounding on the watcher, Buffy took a large sip of her drink. "I tried it all, Giles. In LA—ran out and—well... After a couple of days—shakes were so bad. I almost killed this little old lady. Closest I came—scared me," she answered truthfully. What's with the honestly bit? I could care less what he thinks of me. Right...? Jeeze—more for the pile—self-reflection... It's gonna take me months to dig out at this rate.
Giles appeared pensive and distant for a moment. Snapping back, he reflected, "It must be the combination. At any rate, should this little arrangement continue, I will have to insist you find another way."
"I get right on that, Giles. After I fix everything else that's wrong in the god-forsaken, little, back-water burg," Buffy spat, taking another large sip of her cocktail.
"My apologies," Giles offered sincerely. Pausing to consider the issue, he noted, "There are places you might feed."
Peering down into her drink, Buffy responded, "Yeah...considered that... Was a bad idea before last night. May be looking better now that I fired all my employees. Also considered—I could hire—"
"Go on," Giles prompted. Appearing interested, he quickly added, "By 'fired,' you mean you 'killed,' correct?"
Watching the interactions across the room between Faith and Amy with mild interest, Buffy confirmed, "Yeah... I dusted about twenty vamps before bed this morning. Death doesn't exactly come with a retirement plan—it was the only way to be sure—keep the knives outta my back in the future," sighing deeply, she concluded, "Only one I kept was Dalton. He's harmless, and damned useful."
Giles nodded. "And your other thought? Please continue."
"Just that hookers sorta sell their bodies anyway. I might make some kinda deal there. I'd rather help some real victims than pay a suck house pimp. I could put them up until they recover. They'd have a good excuse for the disappearing act too," Buffy replied frankly.
"You really have changed," Giles remarked, appearing taken aback by the vampire's admission.
Buffy tipped her chin slightly. Giving the watcher a quick glance, she remarked in an arid tone, "Not sure there're that many hookers in Sunnydale, but might help some." Taking her leave of Giles, she made her way across the room. "Faith, Amy, I'd like to show you to your room. I'm about companied out," she offered, making eye contact with the slayer.
"I assume you have a library?" Giles queried hopefully.
"Yes," Buffy said in a flat voice.
Giles approached the vampire again. "Would you mind, terribly—?"
"Sure," Buffy confirmed. Setting off through the house, she was amused that Jonathan had followed without saying a word. Dropping Giles and Jonathan off in the library, she said, "I was serious about the east wing. Just pick rooms you like. It's no big. I want Faithy near me, so—"
"Faithy?" the slayer replied tersely.
"You heard me, F.," Buffy answered in a silky voice. Making her way out of the library, she snickered at Giles who looked like he might have died and gone to watcher heaven. "He'll be busy for hours. All the work we did picking up the slack, prob'ly the most complete occult library in the state in that room."
"Here I was afraid he'd go into book withdrawal...what—with the torching," Amy remarked, keeping pace with their host.
"Quite the digs, B.," Faith commented, looking around the large common area they were walking through. "Guess crime does pay."
"Pays really well if you're smart," Buffy confirmed as she bounced up the stairs to her room. Removing the throwing knife from the door, she instructed, "My room. I like my privacy. Enter without knocking—something better be trying to eat you, 'kay?" Watching the two women nod, she opened the door across the hall. Stepping inside, she instructed, "Your room."
"Umm... There's only one bed," Faith remarked, looking around at the massive suite.
"Is that a problem? I mean..." Buffy asked. Appearing puzzled, she raised an eyebrow. "You two aren't—?"
"No," Faith answered frankly, somewhat surprised by the question.
Shaking her head, Buffy reflected, "Faith, you're as clueless—check out the look." Gesturing to Amy, she was amused how quickly the witch snapped to appearing completely placid. She looked hurt as hell not a second ago. This is too funny. "'Kay whatever... You two work it out. I'm a lot of things: 'matchmaker' not on the list. You need something put down—way brutal—more my area. There's another room just down the hall if you need." Lighting a cigarette, she started out of the room.
"Hey B., Can I bum one?" Faith called after their host. Catching the pack Buffy tossed at her, she started to ask for a light only to snag a book of matches out of the air as the vampire disappeared out of the room. Inspecting the pack, she raised an eye brow. Who in the hell's Nat Sherman? New York—figures—snobby bitch—go for the fancy smokes.
"Want me to leave?" Amy asked frankly, watching as the slayer lit a cigarette.
Faith crossed the room before she answered. "Why would I want that?" Taking a seat on one of the two cream-colored Victorian couches that were arranged in an L on the far end of the room, she tossed the pack of cigarettes on the end table. Quite a step up from that crappy motel.
Making her way over to the second couch, Amy took the seat closest to Faith. Flipping the lamp on, she replied, "Because of what Buffy said."
Faith took a deep drag off the cigarette. Flipping the ash into the ashtray next to her, she reflected, "I just though she was screwin' with me."
Amy stared at her hands as she answered, "She wasn't."
"But that would mean—?" Faith said. Dropping her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, she pulled her boots off. Curling her legs up next to her, she leaned into the arm of the couch.
Snickering softly to herself, Amy noted, "Buffy's a vampire—" cutting off immediately to allow the slayer her 'duh' moment, she continued, "Vampires, the smart ones, tend to notice subtleties in how people interact. Helps them hit where it hurts the most."
"So you're sayin' she was right?" Faith inquired. Trying to stifle a nervous laugh, she bit her lower lip.
Amy turned her gaze to a blank patch on the wall in front of her. Keeping her voice as neutral as possible, she replied, "Not exactly... I mean, yeah...I care for you—totally obvious, right? But she read more in."
Faith chuckled. "Yeah, I was with ya till right then. She said, 'check out the look.' What look, Amy? If she wasn't prickin' with me, means—"
Making eye contact, Amy snapped defensively, "What does it mean, Faith? That I care too much? You really think there's such a thing? Expect too much? Yes, that's possible, but I don't... What I expect is friendship. Anything more's on you."
Taking in the intense glare the witch gave her; Faith couldn't help but break eye contact. Weird for me—totally speechless... Other than playin' with whatever happened—post slayin'—never gave it a thought. Not so much the relationship type. Fix the need and move on's way more my style. "So what's up with B.? Why the—?" she queried, trying to steer the conversation down a more comfortable path.
Watching as the slayer turned to meet her gaze again Amy offered, "I'm not exactly sure, but I can guess."
"Guess away. I'd love to know," Faith replied as she snuffed her smoke in the crystal ashtray.
"Same thing that's happening to us," Amy said in an arid tone, winking at the slayer for effect.
"Huh?" Faith gasped. Giving the witch an incredulous glance, she directed her attention across the room. She can't seriously...
Amy giggled. "You know I remember when Buffy came to town? I was there. So was Jonathan. Place was a total nightmare. New, old vamp named the Master had just risen. Everyone was scared as hell." Watching the slayer nod, she set off into her story, "Didn't keep us from being stupid—going to the Bronze, even after the slaughter. We were kids, bulletproof and not very bright."
Pulling off her shoes, Amy curled up on the couch. "First time I saw Buffy was in the Bronze. No clue what she was, but things had settled down a bit, so, we were celebrating. I knew Willow. Shocked the hell out of me when I watched this really cute blonde size her up and leave with her that night. Weirdest thing...school geek scoring with something— I mean body language was all there—obvious. Next day in school, Willow was one smitten kitten—totally in love—lust—whatever. It was pretty funny for awhile."
"I can guess what the 'not funny' was," Faith interjected as she lit another smoke.
Amy nodded. "Didn't take long for the 'not funny.' Girls started disappearing—specific girls: Cordy, campus queen; Harmony; and the rest of the popular girls. As they went, one at a time, Willow got mean. Watched it—took awhile to put it together. The bodies started turning up, drained of blood, in pieces. They found them one piece at a time, made the ID real slow. The cops thought they had a serial killer. So of course, stuff for us got bad again. All of us except Willow; she didn't seem to care."
"Anyway, you know how that turned out. Point is, though...this started with Willow in love, totally smitten. My guess is that Buffy's reacting to that. She has a soul now. I think they're falling in love...strange as that sounds. I can't think of anything better to bring out the humanity. The capacity for love is one of those uniquely human qualities," Amy offered in a soft pensive voice. As she spoke she took the hand Faith had extended over the arm of the couch. She smiled softly when the slayer didn't pull it away.
"I mean Buffy seems pretty confused, but it's not like she'd have a ton of experience. She was turned really young, so—emotionally immature... I don't have any reason to believe that the soul would age outside the host. In fact, it seems unlikely it would." Sighing as she concluded, Amy said, "Let me see your side—has to itch."
"Yeah...itches like a bitch," Faith confirmed. Setting her cigarette aside, she dutifully turned on the couch. Lying down, she raised her shirt to expose the bandage. Watching as Amy kneeled beside her, she added with a laugh, "So, that's the deal...vampires in love? Sounds pretty cliché to me."
"Hold still," Amy chided. Carefully pulling the tape, she exposed the surgery incision. "Yeah...figured... You're all healed up, but the stitches— I'll go see if I can find some scissors." Rising to exit the room, she remarked, "Cliché? Well, maybe, but a more human Buffy? Totally good for us and anything else with a pulse in this god forsaken little town."
"Fair enough," Faith retorted dryly.
Amy heard someone coming up the stairs as she poked her head out the door. Speak of the devil, she considered as Willow came into view laden with packages. "Need some help?" she asked as the other witch came her way.
"Get the door for me?" Willow replied, standing in front of the door to Buffy's room. Last batch...thank the Goddess... Put stuff up, then research...
Watching as Willow passed through the doorway, Amy asked, "Can I borrow a pair of scissors? Small ones if you have them?"
"Sure," Willow confirmed. Placing the packages onto the pile on the couch, she made her way into the bathroom. Retrieving a manicure set, she returned to Amy. "Something like this?" she asked, opening the kit up.
Amy nodded. "Yeah...perfect actually. I'll return it in a bit."
"'Kay... No big," Willow responded. Disappearing around the edge of the door, she swung it closed.
Returning to Faith, Amy set the kit on the table and took out the scissors. Clipping each of the stitches neatly at the knot, she used the eyebrow tweezers to pull them. Putting the items back in the kit, she inspected the incision. "That healed really well. Shouldn't leave much of a scar," she commented. Picking up the manicure kit, she made her way out of the room. Placing it next to the door to Buffy's room, she gave a quick knock and returned to Faith's. Shutting the door behind her, she locked it. "Better?" she asked as she made her way back across the room.
"Yeah...five by five... Thanks," Faith replied. Giving the witch a smirk, she ran her fingers over the scar, pulling her shirt back down.
***********
Bouncing back down the stairs, Buffy reflected in a soft voice, "They're worse than minions. Least the minions had the good sense to be scared." Crossing the common room, she poked her head in the library. Giles was lighting a fire. "Jonathan, can I see you for a sec?" she asked motioning him to follow. "East wing's that way," she noted, pointing to the other staircase the rose up from the common area. Passing through the archway underneath it, she made her way through the dining area into the airy modern kitchen. "Kitchen... You said something about pizza. Figured you'd be looking," she remarked. Casting the throwing knife aside on counter, she moved to the refrigerator. Retrieving a packet of blood, she poured it into a large wine glass. Nasty, but I'm gonna try the not heating. See if—
Jonathan watched as the vampire's eyes turned a deep amber color when she took her first drink. "Reflex?" he asked. Appearing pensive, he made a vague gesture to the vampire's eyes. "I wondered about the dark glasses."
"Yeah...sorta eat and run today. Whistler said move and—" Buffy replied, meeting Jonathan's gaze.
"Ever thought about contacts?" he queried. What the hell are you doing? Vampire...having dinner here... You know—actually I don't. Weird...
Buffy snickered. Taking in the nervous appearance of her guest, she said in a silky voice, "Don't like me much, do ya?"
"Don't trust you," Jonathan replied frankly. Steeling himself, he maintained eye contact.
"I can smell the fear, Jonathan. Here's the thing. You're right to be scared. I could snap your neck before your next heartbeat—drain you before you could scream. Following your instincts is good," taking another sip, she eyed the young man. He's brave. Never woulda guessed it. Nodding curtly to him, she added in the same silky tone, "Rest of that is... It is all about me. And me—I don't want to deal with more guilt. That's what's keeping you alive. I have enough shit stacked on my plate to deal. Every one of these girls...my fault...my problem...blood on my hands. Not to mention—"
"Amy says you want to help. Is that true?" Jonathan queried thoughtfully.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Buffy motioned the young man over. "Yeah...and I haven't managed to figure that yet. I'm so not noble. The whole 'hero' thing's sorta a joke for me. You're actually ten times the hero I'll ever be. I got the super powers package, so I got stuck playing the role, but it is what it is. Funny thing, part of it was forced on me...part of it I took. Now I'm paying for the taking."
Jonathan was stunned. He sat staring at the vampire in silence for several minutes just watching her drink.
"Your pizza should be here any minute now. I'm gonna bail," Buffy said, finally breaking the silence between them. Standing, she stretched, holding the wine glass over her head as she did.
"Thanks," Jonathan replied in a sincere manner.
"For what?" Buffy asked pensively.
"For calling me a hero... Had to hurt," Jonathan quipped, flashing the vampire a wry grin.
"You know it," Buffy retorted as she moved to the doorway. Turning back to wink, she set off purposefully through the house, pausing at the library door. A giggle escaped as she watched Giles. Fire, scotch, leather chair, book... Looks like a scene from Masterpiece Theater. Stuffy British guy heaven...and pretty much a lamb in the lion's den... A really stupid lamb.
Giles looked up from his book and smiled as he watched the vampire pass.
Continuing to her room, Buffy found her witch sitting on one of the couches with a book. Shutting the closet doors, she noted that Willow had been busy settling in.
"I borrowed the car keys and moved a few things. That's okay, right?" Willow asked. Looking a bit guilty, she pointed to the keys on the end table.
"Yeah... No, I want you here. Do whatever," Buffy replied. Taking a seat next to her witch, she put her arm around her. Leaning in, she kissed Willow tenderly. "So, what's the word from research land?"
Willow smiled brightly. "I may have a plan. Still working on it. Dalton says it has promise."
Buffy stood up. Setting the wine glass aside, she crossed the room. Peeling off her clothes, she deposited the dry cleaning into a hamper in the closet. "I'm gonna shower real quick, then you can tell me all about this scheme of yours, 'kay?"
"'Kay," Willow replied absently. Her nose still firmly planted in the book, she didn't even glance up.
Shaking her head at the lack of attention, Buffy wandered into the bathroom, tossing the remainder of her garments down the laundry chute. And my life just keeps getting weirder. Weirdest thing—I'm kinda liking it...
***********
Watching as the witch approached, Faith remarked in a low growl, "Y'know, to me 'relationship' is the thirty-seconds it takes me to get my latest fuck-buddy out the door. Since I came to good ol' Sunny D, I've managed to find somethin' I pretty much thought I'd never have. I dunno...I keep those two things separate, if you get me. "
"That's not a relationship, Faith," Amy remarked irritably, reclaiming her seat on the second couch.
Sitting up, Faith lounged against the arm of the couch. Snickering, she observed, "It's as close as I get."
"Bullshit," Amy retorted, reclaiming the slayer's hand. "You've had a relationship with me for years now. You have a relationship with Giles and Jonathan too. None of them are relationships beyond friendship, but it's not that much different. The feelings are different—more intense—then there's the sex, but otherwise—"
Faith released the witch's hand so she could light a smoke. Taking a deep drag to settle her nerves, she returned her hand. Meeting Amy's gaze, she offered in a low careful voice, "Well yeah, and you guys, you're sorta a first... I got pretty used to people up and leavin' or worse dyin' on me..." Taking another sharp pull off her cigarette, she continued, "I just don't wanna screw it up. The idea of losin' one of you guys scares the shit outta me."
Feeling a lot braver that she thought she ought to, Amy cut to the chase, "Do you love me?"
"You know I do," Faith responded frankly and without hesitation.
Amy shook her head. "You're funny, Faith. I mean I can totally tell you're attracted to me sometimes, but then... You—the slayer—you're frightened of relationships. You'll face down a vamp twice your size but, committing to another person emotionally, you run like hell."
"I just don't wanna fuck up a good thing. And if everyone you ever cared for died or left, you'd be worried too," Faith offered in a dull voice, nervously gnawing on her lower lip as she awaited the reply.
"Okay," Amy responded. Rising from her seat, she released the slayer's hand. "I'm gonna go to my room. When you grow a spine, let me know," she said, sounding completely annoyed. She made her way purposefully to the door.
"Wait," Faith called after the witch. "So what happens in a couple months when we have a fight? 'Cause ya know it'll happen." Casting the ash off, she took another drag.
Turning back to look at the slayer in disbelief, Amy replied, "Not really an expert but, my guess, same thing that always happens. We fight, and then we make up. Making up's just more fun."
Faith met the witch's gaze. "And when it falls apart?"
"Well, you don't go in thinking that but, if it does, you commit to salvaging the friendship," Amy said bluntly.
"You'd do that?" Faith asked pensively, taking another drag off her smoke.
"No, Faith, you're the one person I care for more than myself. You're strength saved me from—" Amy retorted in a voice just above a whisper. Narrowing her eyes, she added a sarcastic, "I'd totally throw you out."
Crushing the cigarette into the ashtray, Faith beckoned the witch to return. "What I thought," she snarked, smiling broadly as Amy walked towards her.