Author: Teenwitch
Email: Teenwitch_feedback@msn.com
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, UPN, The WB and Mutant Enemy. I claim no ownership or infringement of any kind.
Spoilers: Set post Chosen/Home. I realise the idea of the watcher's council reviving kind of defeats the purpose of slayers united, but I started this before I saw Chosen, so bear with me. And then again, who knows?
Feedback: Welcome.
Distribution: BA_Fluff, Fanfiction.net, and anyone else who asks are welcome to it.
Rating: Ranges in different chapters, but let's give it a good solid R at present.
Summary: Destiny has its own design.
****
No one is in charge of their own life. Everyone is a part of the bigger
picture. -'Blind Date'.
Chapter One: "Set In Stone"
****
Family.
The very essence of life. The essence of being. The reminder that we are not alone in this existence. That we can go on, and when we do, someone will be by our side, someone who loves us despite our faults or sins or imperfections.
What is this life, except for one journey into another? One step in the giant cosmic scale, one among thousands of insignificant moments that lead us to the inevitable. Death.
For the immortal, that moment in time - that single second when life's great flame is extinguished to make way for the after - does not exist. That choice is theirs, more often not. But the great journey so many of us fear is never quite completed. If I were a philosophical man, I would say they hang in the balance, forever. For an eternity to greet alone.
Family is what we use to occupy ourselves; man utilises to enjoy the interval between birth and death. The ultimate denial, that if we make a life, maybe the end of it will never come. What use is this denial to the immortal? Their time is forever, and what is family to the man who lives forever?
I will now tell you a story, and one that will change everything you have ever believed. Everything about the way you see life, and all you take for granted until the very second it is gone. And it will show to you that the time spent in between, the time the immortal being will never know, is not a time wasted or to allow to slip by. That death is only the beginning, not the end, and what matters will always go on, no matter what.
This is a story that will show to you never to underestimate the insignificant, that one small step could be the fork between two paths, and that fate, in one shape or form, will always fill out its design.
This story is of hope and courage, of wisdom and love.
This is a story of destiny, and the forces that must be faced in order to rectify it.
****
*Ah, the life of the immortal. The perks. well, those were far and many. A life lived forever, hey, that was a given. The superhuman strength, the ingrained fighting skills? Had that one down too. Oh, the healing. Bullet wound like a bee-sting, sure didn't bite. Ha, I made a joke.*
Beneath the city surface, stalking swiftly through the shadows of the many complex twists and turns of the Los Angeles urban sewerage tunnels, Angel's superior senses magnified the smell of the city's waste per thousand, and he could not remember one single quality he liked about being a vampire.
Wesley and Fred's animated chatter echoed around the corner ahead, words like 'fascinating' and 'breeding habits' and 'breakthrough in demonology' drifting back to him like that one time he had been forced to watch Animal Planet with Wesley because of the similarities between Heska demons and the indigenous ferret - a case they were working on at the time. Well, except the demonology part.
But this wasn't a documentary; this was real life, and the nest of the alleged new species of demon Gunn had dubbed 'Prowlers' could be just ahead, and the two were sure to alert them to their presence if they didn't shut up soon.
With the resources of Wolfram and Hart at their fingertips, the two of them could barely contain their excitement at the prospect of this new discovery.
Angel increased his speed, and he whirled the corner in time to thud into Wesley's back where the watcher had halted abruptly in his tracks.
"Do you hear that?" he murmured, sharply shifting into complete focus before Angel could say 'migraine'.
Gunn lobbied up behind them, elaborately carved battle-ax courtesy of the Archaic Weaponry and Artillery Division clanging against his side, dark face twisted into an expression of deep annoyance.
"Would'a heard it earlier if you two had stopped yapping this side of forever", he ground out irritably.
Wesley ignored him, grey eyes drifting up the slick tunnel wall.
After a long pause, Fred tentatively spoke up. "I don't hear-"
Her words were never finished as a dark, scaly black creature materialized out of nowhere from the ceiling of the tunnel. A grating, high-pitched screech reverberated around them, and the demon dropped straight from the roof, and landed on top of Fred, knocking her flat on her back beneath it, and causing her to let out a startled yelp.
Before anyone could react, similar cries echoed all around them, and demons were dropping from every corner of the tunnel.
"Watch out!"
Angel whirled just in time from Gunn's warning shout, ducking to a bow as a gnarled, clawed hand whipped at his head like a blade.
*It's raining demons.*
It missed the top of his head by centimetres, and Angel rolled, whirling to his feet.
The demon that had attacked to him rose to its full height - though Angel got the impression it was more accustomed to hands and knees - and ran straight at him, talons rising.
Angel dodged to the side, catching a long, deep gash along his chest that shredded through his shirtfront, and quickly clutched up his ax, swinging it wide and high.
The creature -'prowler' couldn't be a more accurate description - moved surprisingly fast, and morphed into the landscape around it.
Angel gazed around in disbelief, eyes darting around in an attempt to furrow out the suddenly invisible, danger personified threat.
"*Wes*!" he shouted, swinging out the ax but only connecting with solid air.
"The Prowlers can unify themselves to their surroundings!" the ex-watcher responded breathlessly, ducking from the assault of a small but surprisingly agile little demon who had him in its sights. "It's only temporary, but they can also attach themselves to any surface, and can move. extraordinarily. fast".
His last words were paired with his furious panting as he struggled to slice his broadsword into the head of the demon.
"We got that, English!" Gunn shouted back impatiently. "How do you *kill* them?!"
Before Wesley could respond the demon in front of him was sliced through from the neck upwards, and collapsed in on itself, melting into a slick black substance that melded with the ground.
The three of them stared at Fred for a brief millisecond.
"Cut off their heads!"
They didn't need to be told twice. Gunn whirled vigorously to the nearest demon, and whipped his metal ax at its head. He missed, connecting hard with the concrete wall, and was momentarily stunned by the impact.
The demon underestimated him and threw its taloned hands at his shoulder, and Gunn pumped back his elbow, before beheading it in one clean movement.
Panting, he rested his hands on his knees, and stood back as Angel and Wesley killed the last two prowlers.
"*Damn*", he gasped, straightening. He grabbed up his ax, dripping black gunk over his shoes, and scowled. "Y'know, that was just a little too close to being a bloodbath for my liking. And we better have some anti-demon lotion or somethin' to get this ugly-ass black shit off of my new Docs when we get back to the office".
Fred looked slightly sheepish. "Uh, maybe they. heard us coming?"
He gave her a withering glare. "You think?"
"Look, no one was hurt", Angel said diplomatically, although not in the least frosted himself at their recklessness. "That's what matters. Let's just do one more sweep and go back to the office".
It wasn't like they didn't have reason to be a little reckless lately. Demon activity in Los Angeles had been at an extreme .01 for a while now; maybe a while too long. Bad for business, to be sure, but definitely bad in other ways if past experiences were to go by.
And they didn't need another apocalypse after the last one.
Since accepting the deal to take over Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles branch two months ago, the AI team had been separated into their distinctive areas of interest, and their time together was less and less. Angel made it a point to arrange a fortnightly patrol for just the five - or four of them, as was usually the case - to assure they stayed in direct contact. And so they were reminded they were still *the* team.
Wolfram and Hart may be providing them with resources they could never possibly have dreamed of a year ago, but their agenda was still not entirely clear and Angel knew all of them would be tempted with all forms of corruption. The least they could do was stick together, be reminded of where they came from and what the job entailed.
They helped the hopeless.
Their enthusiasm to be back on the job had waned noticeably, and the four of them did one last half-hearted sweep before trekking back up to the surface.
Angel's sleek belvedere convertible was still waiting for them on the corner of 6th and 7th in the very centre of downtown, despite Gunn's conviction that it wouldn't be.
Demonic activity had been low, but the criminal lowlifes in the town seemed to have taken this as their own personal grounds to come out of hiding, and in force.
Gang warfare, hold-ups, break-ins and missing persons had intensified, and the heat was getting to everybody.
Los Angeles had never been the safest town, but it was edging on the uninhabitable and people were starting to talk.
Angel Investigations had taken it in their stride; after all, what was human mayhem to them? Their M.O. was strictly demons, even after Lorne's persistence that it wouldn't be so bad to branch out now they had Wolfram and Hart firmly backing them.
So why was Angel so worried?
****
*What do we do now?*
The question was so surreal, so unbelievable, presenting with it limitless possibilities, limitless potential.
A life.
A real life, not one restricted by monsters or demons or a sacred duty that was forever forged alone. For once and for all, it had been proven that Buffy Summers was no regular vampire slayer. She was born to bend the rules for the greater purpose, and her final legacy had been the epitome to this.
Her final legacy had been a great one. It had united thousands of girls over the world as one primal force. Buffy, with the help of her friends, changed the course of history and eradicated the solitariness of the slayer line forever.
*What do we do now?*
They still had so very much to do, so much to change and to forge the way for the next generation. So many people to help. So much power to uncover, and to harness for Good.
The night Sunnydale became a crater in the earth; Buffy Summers, her younger sister, her watcher, friends and the handful of slayers to survive were left homeless, with only the clothes on their backs to carry them.
One by one, the new slayers returned to their respective homes in places all over the world, until the only two remaining were Faith, the rogue, and Kennedy, the slayer in love with the most powerful witch of this time.
And so the building of a new life began.
Buffy had taken the necessary liberties before the final fight, just in case, and their lives savings were stowed safely in a Los Angeles bank.
In the last two months, Buffy figured Los Angeles had received a lot of extra migration into its city limits. like down coastal way, if you wanted specifics. She had given it some consideration, but the fact was Los Angeles was another figment of her past, her childhood, the time of her fleeting innocence as far as the creatures that went bump in the night were concerned. Sunnydale's destroying had just been another proverbial nudge to the forward.
It was time to move on with her life.
Besides, she'd kind of decided L.A. had enough protection in the super- power department. The place Buffy now called home was a small, inland town called Rio Dell, maybe an hour in between Los Angeles and what had once been Sunnydale. It was slightly smaller than Sunnydale, but inviting, friendly, and conveniently short a Hellmouth.
All she needed to know.
Dawn was with her, of course, and nearing the start of her Junior Year, though taking a make-up summer school course considering no one in Sunnydale had actually completed their education the previous year.
Willow and Xander had also decided to stay with the Summers sisters, which wasn't any surprise, and Faith was still in the midst of a 'deciding' stage, which Buffy translated as she had nowhere better in mind. Besides, there was still kind of an outstanding warrant for her arrest, which the four of them constantly made alibis for. Sunnydale high's former principal had also kindly managed to arrange a phoney ID, and fake passport and birth certificate for the brunette slayer to allow her to remain permanently out of the penitentiary way, and allow her to help with more pressing issues.
Like, oh, saving the world.
Which had actually been put on the backburner since their defeat of the First, from the lack of evil to speak of.
Giles returned to England, followed by an eager Andrew, desperate to rectify his sins and thoroughly convinced he had found his purpose in life.
Slayers came and went, seeking guidance, or just to meet the famous Chosen One who had ended her own lineage and bestowed their power. But after a while, things settled down into what vaguely resembled normalcy. And the lives sacrificed in order for that to be achieved, Spike, Anya, Amanda and the countless others, would never be forgotten.
And Buffy, the only slayer in history ever to conduct her duty with the aid of civilians and to be liberated from a lonesome fate, was free.
So why wasn't she happy with that?
The reasons were all very varied and complicated, and all had absolutely nothing to do with the real reason she was so unhappy, because she honestly didn't know what that reason was.
Also, her discomfort with the idea of returning to Los Angeles didn't change the fact that here she was, sitting on the aisle seat in a Greyhound doing a steady 90 in the direction of that very city.
Faith's head was propped against the window beside her, mouth open, and a disturbingly loud snoring sound coming from her nose. Or her mouth. Buffy wasn't really too sure and not in any hurry to investigate.
She turned her attention out to face the window again, her own head leaning back to rest against the stiff headrest. L.A. felt like a backwards step, and that wasn't the direction she was looking to take.
Unfortunately some representative from the reformed Watchers Council - which so far consisted of a total of nine members - was landing at LAX at 7:00am the next morning, and she and Faith were nominated as the ones to do the meet and greet.
Caleb had blown up the Council HQ a year ago under the First's instructions, but there were several old watchers who had been in the early stages of retirement and some new watchers who were still in the ropes of training when that had happened, and they had all gathered together in the hopes of retaining the Council, and assisting the now many slayers which Willow had created.
Buffy inwardly scoffed at their so-called noble motives.
The blackness outside the bus seemed absolute and endless, the only thing occasionally disturbing it the shimmering city lights that were gaining closer and closer, signalling their impending arrival.
The glitter that was Los Angeles became visible as they descended a hill on the freeway, and a familiar pang shot through her gut like butterflies assaulting her insides. Possibly with grenades. It was a sensation mixed with apprehension and dread, and one she always got when those first infinitesimal signs of the sky scrape came into view over the horizon.
The only greeting this council representative was going to get from her was a snarky retort and a kick that should land him right back in the mother country.
You know, the usual.
Buffy and her friends had been the ones to train up and protect the potentials, and they would keep doing it, if it became necessary. Though all of the slayers had returned to their homes, there was always someone who needed helping, and they would be there to provide it.
As far as Buffy was concerned, the Council had died along with the Chosen *One*.
The bus depot was empty by this time of night, and Faith woke just as they juddered to a halt, arching her back like a cat as she stretched her limbs.
"Well, I feel rested". She rose to her feet, reaching up to the above compartment for her bag. "What's say we get in a few vamps on the town before sunrise? I remember L.A. packing a load full of 'em".
Buffy shot her a weary, withering look as they descended the bus with the few other late night travellers, and were assaulted by the cool night air. Trust Faith to be in the mood for some action when she was in the midst of such deep thoughts.
"I hope that was a joke. The only physical exercise I intend on doing is finding a motel that takes check-ins this late".
Faith hitched up her shoulder bag as they started between a neat line of Los Angeles Greyhounds. "This is L.A., B. The city that never sleeps or what the hell ever".
"I thought that was New York".
Faith rolled her eyes.
"We're here for one thing and one thing only", Buffy reminded her sternly, inwardly wondering when she became so stuffy. "Official business, remember?"
"I thought we were here to tell Blighter-boy where he can stuff it?"
Buffy shrugged. "Well, that too."
Faith sighed exasperatedly, flicking her wavy brown hair over one shoulder as she gave her friend a sidelong glance. "Come on. Be realistic, B. Pretty soon we're gonna have a bunch of watcher-boys panting down our necks, and this ain't a problem we're gonna fix with a carefully rehearsed speech and a few slaps up his royal-sized ass. These guys aren't going to go away".
Buffy quickened her pace, wrapping her arms over her midsection in an effort to ward off the chill. She was irritated that Faith would shoot down her ready-made solution so easily. "Did you have anything better in mind?"
"Now that you mention it."
Buffy half-turned, stopping mid-step and fixing her fellow slayer with a long, hard look, having no doubt as to what Faith was referring to. She should have known this would come up again.
"We've already been through this. And I am not asking him for his help. We've handled situations worse than this before, and we got through them without any help. So. No. Way."
Faith scowled, folding her arms and levelling Buffy with a look of impatience. The bus depot had already emptied and they were alone in the dimly lit car park. "And how many of those times were the end of the world? I'm not saying like it's the ideal solution, but we have connections to the lead of the most powerful business in L.A. and you're gonna throw that way because you're hung-up on a past with the guy?"
Buffy grit her teeth. She did not want to be discussing this, and she did not want to be discussing this in the middle of the cold night at two in the morning with Faith.
"I do *not* want to talk about Angel with you right now."
Thoughts of Angel brought up too many hurtful memories. Their last meeting, though leaving things open for the future, had felt too final. She knew that the world ending had to have had a significant influence to that atmosphere, but what happened after that was definitely enough for some reconsideration.
Faith threw up her hands. "Do you ever? Oh, but how could I forget? Still touchy from the last time, right?"
Buffy could feel her blood pumping. "Just drop it, okay?" she hissed through a clenched jaw.
Faith dropped her arms to her sides, stalking past her in the direction of the road. "Whatever. Do it the hard way. You'd think after everything you'da learnt better", she grunted under her breath.
"And what the hell does that mean?" Buffy snapped after her, whirling to follow her departing back.
This new improved percepto-Faith was grating hard. She didn't need someone to point out the things she'd rather keep hidden to herself, and she certainly didn't need that person to be Faith. It wasn't like she was willingly being repressive about her emotions. It had just become. necessary the past few months.
Faith stopped again, narrowing her heavily eye-lined black eyes into slits. "It means will you stop trying to be a damn martyr for half a second?" she burst out, waving her hands wildly. "You're a sucker for a cause, B, and this time you got none. You're putting your whole life on hold for what, a guy that's been gone for two months, and dead a whole while longer?"
Buffy felt herself draw in a hissing breath. Faith could point out her flaws, fine. But she didn't need to hear about Spike.
"This coming from Miss Commitment, who sends the first guy she even remotely likes packing at the first sign of something real?" she retorted brusquely.
Faith glared, pausing in her own diatribe. Her and Robin were complicated enough without Buffy putting in her two cents. "Low shot, B. And we're not here to rehash on relationships. It's like you left Sunnydale with us, but part of you stayed behind".
Buffy stared at her in disbelief. "Have you been. discussing this?"
Faith shifted, scuffing the toe of her boot on the concrete ground, head bowing so her golden brown hair toppled over her pale features. She shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact, itching for a cigarette. "We were worried. Or well, the others were, anyhow. Come on, Buffy. I know the slayer deal a little better than they do, and I can see you still aren't moving past it. I get that. You have a life handed to you when you weren't expecting one, and you got no clue what to do with it."
She unconsciously riffled in her pocket, withdrawing a cigarette, and she didn't know whether it was to warm her from the cold or from Buffy's frosty glare. "I'm just calling it like I see it, okay? We don't need another Council getting no ideas they got authority here. They never listened to us before. But if Wolfram and Hart could even slightly help, wouldn't you rather face Angel than risk putting off your life even more?"
Buffy was silent, eyeing her and something behind her head erratically. "Since when did you become so perceptive?" she ground out at long last.
Faith shrugged, puffing out long billows of smoke. "Not much else to do in a cell with twenty other chicks twenty four/seven."
She didn't voice her other concerns, that maybe Buffy didn't want to see Angel because Spike had died in his place, but instead tried to keep her voice tinged with its standard cynicism. Which wasn't all that hard.
"Is that a yes?"
"Is that a choice?"
****
TBC
Email: Teenwitch_feedback@msn.com
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, UPN, The WB and Mutant Enemy. I claim no ownership or infringement of any kind.
Spoilers: Set post Chosen/Home. I realise the idea of the watcher's council reviving kind of defeats the purpose of slayers united, but I started this before I saw Chosen, so bear with me. And then again, who knows?
Feedback: Welcome.
Distribution: BA_Fluff, Fanfiction.net, and anyone else who asks are welcome to it.
Rating: Ranges in different chapters, but let's give it a good solid R at present.
Summary: Destiny has its own design.
****
No one is in charge of their own life. Everyone is a part of the bigger
picture. -'Blind Date'.
Chapter One: "Set In Stone"
****
Family.
The very essence of life. The essence of being. The reminder that we are not alone in this existence. That we can go on, and when we do, someone will be by our side, someone who loves us despite our faults or sins or imperfections.
What is this life, except for one journey into another? One step in the giant cosmic scale, one among thousands of insignificant moments that lead us to the inevitable. Death.
For the immortal, that moment in time - that single second when life's great flame is extinguished to make way for the after - does not exist. That choice is theirs, more often not. But the great journey so many of us fear is never quite completed. If I were a philosophical man, I would say they hang in the balance, forever. For an eternity to greet alone.
Family is what we use to occupy ourselves; man utilises to enjoy the interval between birth and death. The ultimate denial, that if we make a life, maybe the end of it will never come. What use is this denial to the immortal? Their time is forever, and what is family to the man who lives forever?
I will now tell you a story, and one that will change everything you have ever believed. Everything about the way you see life, and all you take for granted until the very second it is gone. And it will show to you that the time spent in between, the time the immortal being will never know, is not a time wasted or to allow to slip by. That death is only the beginning, not the end, and what matters will always go on, no matter what.
This is a story that will show to you never to underestimate the insignificant, that one small step could be the fork between two paths, and that fate, in one shape or form, will always fill out its design.
This story is of hope and courage, of wisdom and love.
This is a story of destiny, and the forces that must be faced in order to rectify it.
****
*Ah, the life of the immortal. The perks. well, those were far and many. A life lived forever, hey, that was a given. The superhuman strength, the ingrained fighting skills? Had that one down too. Oh, the healing. Bullet wound like a bee-sting, sure didn't bite. Ha, I made a joke.*
Beneath the city surface, stalking swiftly through the shadows of the many complex twists and turns of the Los Angeles urban sewerage tunnels, Angel's superior senses magnified the smell of the city's waste per thousand, and he could not remember one single quality he liked about being a vampire.
Wesley and Fred's animated chatter echoed around the corner ahead, words like 'fascinating' and 'breeding habits' and 'breakthrough in demonology' drifting back to him like that one time he had been forced to watch Animal Planet with Wesley because of the similarities between Heska demons and the indigenous ferret - a case they were working on at the time. Well, except the demonology part.
But this wasn't a documentary; this was real life, and the nest of the alleged new species of demon Gunn had dubbed 'Prowlers' could be just ahead, and the two were sure to alert them to their presence if they didn't shut up soon.
With the resources of Wolfram and Hart at their fingertips, the two of them could barely contain their excitement at the prospect of this new discovery.
Angel increased his speed, and he whirled the corner in time to thud into Wesley's back where the watcher had halted abruptly in his tracks.
"Do you hear that?" he murmured, sharply shifting into complete focus before Angel could say 'migraine'.
Gunn lobbied up behind them, elaborately carved battle-ax courtesy of the Archaic Weaponry and Artillery Division clanging against his side, dark face twisted into an expression of deep annoyance.
"Would'a heard it earlier if you two had stopped yapping this side of forever", he ground out irritably.
Wesley ignored him, grey eyes drifting up the slick tunnel wall.
After a long pause, Fred tentatively spoke up. "I don't hear-"
Her words were never finished as a dark, scaly black creature materialized out of nowhere from the ceiling of the tunnel. A grating, high-pitched screech reverberated around them, and the demon dropped straight from the roof, and landed on top of Fred, knocking her flat on her back beneath it, and causing her to let out a startled yelp.
Before anyone could react, similar cries echoed all around them, and demons were dropping from every corner of the tunnel.
"Watch out!"
Angel whirled just in time from Gunn's warning shout, ducking to a bow as a gnarled, clawed hand whipped at his head like a blade.
*It's raining demons.*
It missed the top of his head by centimetres, and Angel rolled, whirling to his feet.
The demon that had attacked to him rose to its full height - though Angel got the impression it was more accustomed to hands and knees - and ran straight at him, talons rising.
Angel dodged to the side, catching a long, deep gash along his chest that shredded through his shirtfront, and quickly clutched up his ax, swinging it wide and high.
The creature -'prowler' couldn't be a more accurate description - moved surprisingly fast, and morphed into the landscape around it.
Angel gazed around in disbelief, eyes darting around in an attempt to furrow out the suddenly invisible, danger personified threat.
"*Wes*!" he shouted, swinging out the ax but only connecting with solid air.
"The Prowlers can unify themselves to their surroundings!" the ex-watcher responded breathlessly, ducking from the assault of a small but surprisingly agile little demon who had him in its sights. "It's only temporary, but they can also attach themselves to any surface, and can move. extraordinarily. fast".
His last words were paired with his furious panting as he struggled to slice his broadsword into the head of the demon.
"We got that, English!" Gunn shouted back impatiently. "How do you *kill* them?!"
Before Wesley could respond the demon in front of him was sliced through from the neck upwards, and collapsed in on itself, melting into a slick black substance that melded with the ground.
The three of them stared at Fred for a brief millisecond.
"Cut off their heads!"
They didn't need to be told twice. Gunn whirled vigorously to the nearest demon, and whipped his metal ax at its head. He missed, connecting hard with the concrete wall, and was momentarily stunned by the impact.
The demon underestimated him and threw its taloned hands at his shoulder, and Gunn pumped back his elbow, before beheading it in one clean movement.
Panting, he rested his hands on his knees, and stood back as Angel and Wesley killed the last two prowlers.
"*Damn*", he gasped, straightening. He grabbed up his ax, dripping black gunk over his shoes, and scowled. "Y'know, that was just a little too close to being a bloodbath for my liking. And we better have some anti-demon lotion or somethin' to get this ugly-ass black shit off of my new Docs when we get back to the office".
Fred looked slightly sheepish. "Uh, maybe they. heard us coming?"
He gave her a withering glare. "You think?"
"Look, no one was hurt", Angel said diplomatically, although not in the least frosted himself at their recklessness. "That's what matters. Let's just do one more sweep and go back to the office".
It wasn't like they didn't have reason to be a little reckless lately. Demon activity in Los Angeles had been at an extreme .01 for a while now; maybe a while too long. Bad for business, to be sure, but definitely bad in other ways if past experiences were to go by.
And they didn't need another apocalypse after the last one.
Since accepting the deal to take over Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles branch two months ago, the AI team had been separated into their distinctive areas of interest, and their time together was less and less. Angel made it a point to arrange a fortnightly patrol for just the five - or four of them, as was usually the case - to assure they stayed in direct contact. And so they were reminded they were still *the* team.
Wolfram and Hart may be providing them with resources they could never possibly have dreamed of a year ago, but their agenda was still not entirely clear and Angel knew all of them would be tempted with all forms of corruption. The least they could do was stick together, be reminded of where they came from and what the job entailed.
They helped the hopeless.
Their enthusiasm to be back on the job had waned noticeably, and the four of them did one last half-hearted sweep before trekking back up to the surface.
Angel's sleek belvedere convertible was still waiting for them on the corner of 6th and 7th in the very centre of downtown, despite Gunn's conviction that it wouldn't be.
Demonic activity had been low, but the criminal lowlifes in the town seemed to have taken this as their own personal grounds to come out of hiding, and in force.
Gang warfare, hold-ups, break-ins and missing persons had intensified, and the heat was getting to everybody.
Los Angeles had never been the safest town, but it was edging on the uninhabitable and people were starting to talk.
Angel Investigations had taken it in their stride; after all, what was human mayhem to them? Their M.O. was strictly demons, even after Lorne's persistence that it wouldn't be so bad to branch out now they had Wolfram and Hart firmly backing them.
So why was Angel so worried?
****
*What do we do now?*
The question was so surreal, so unbelievable, presenting with it limitless possibilities, limitless potential.
A life.
A real life, not one restricted by monsters or demons or a sacred duty that was forever forged alone. For once and for all, it had been proven that Buffy Summers was no regular vampire slayer. She was born to bend the rules for the greater purpose, and her final legacy had been the epitome to this.
Her final legacy had been a great one. It had united thousands of girls over the world as one primal force. Buffy, with the help of her friends, changed the course of history and eradicated the solitariness of the slayer line forever.
*What do we do now?*
They still had so very much to do, so much to change and to forge the way for the next generation. So many people to help. So much power to uncover, and to harness for Good.
The night Sunnydale became a crater in the earth; Buffy Summers, her younger sister, her watcher, friends and the handful of slayers to survive were left homeless, with only the clothes on their backs to carry them.
One by one, the new slayers returned to their respective homes in places all over the world, until the only two remaining were Faith, the rogue, and Kennedy, the slayer in love with the most powerful witch of this time.
And so the building of a new life began.
Buffy had taken the necessary liberties before the final fight, just in case, and their lives savings were stowed safely in a Los Angeles bank.
In the last two months, Buffy figured Los Angeles had received a lot of extra migration into its city limits. like down coastal way, if you wanted specifics. She had given it some consideration, but the fact was Los Angeles was another figment of her past, her childhood, the time of her fleeting innocence as far as the creatures that went bump in the night were concerned. Sunnydale's destroying had just been another proverbial nudge to the forward.
It was time to move on with her life.
Besides, she'd kind of decided L.A. had enough protection in the super- power department. The place Buffy now called home was a small, inland town called Rio Dell, maybe an hour in between Los Angeles and what had once been Sunnydale. It was slightly smaller than Sunnydale, but inviting, friendly, and conveniently short a Hellmouth.
All she needed to know.
Dawn was with her, of course, and nearing the start of her Junior Year, though taking a make-up summer school course considering no one in Sunnydale had actually completed their education the previous year.
Willow and Xander had also decided to stay with the Summers sisters, which wasn't any surprise, and Faith was still in the midst of a 'deciding' stage, which Buffy translated as she had nowhere better in mind. Besides, there was still kind of an outstanding warrant for her arrest, which the four of them constantly made alibis for. Sunnydale high's former principal had also kindly managed to arrange a phoney ID, and fake passport and birth certificate for the brunette slayer to allow her to remain permanently out of the penitentiary way, and allow her to help with more pressing issues.
Like, oh, saving the world.
Which had actually been put on the backburner since their defeat of the First, from the lack of evil to speak of.
Giles returned to England, followed by an eager Andrew, desperate to rectify his sins and thoroughly convinced he had found his purpose in life.
Slayers came and went, seeking guidance, or just to meet the famous Chosen One who had ended her own lineage and bestowed their power. But after a while, things settled down into what vaguely resembled normalcy. And the lives sacrificed in order for that to be achieved, Spike, Anya, Amanda and the countless others, would never be forgotten.
And Buffy, the only slayer in history ever to conduct her duty with the aid of civilians and to be liberated from a lonesome fate, was free.
So why wasn't she happy with that?
The reasons were all very varied and complicated, and all had absolutely nothing to do with the real reason she was so unhappy, because she honestly didn't know what that reason was.
Also, her discomfort with the idea of returning to Los Angeles didn't change the fact that here she was, sitting on the aisle seat in a Greyhound doing a steady 90 in the direction of that very city.
Faith's head was propped against the window beside her, mouth open, and a disturbingly loud snoring sound coming from her nose. Or her mouth. Buffy wasn't really too sure and not in any hurry to investigate.
She turned her attention out to face the window again, her own head leaning back to rest against the stiff headrest. L.A. felt like a backwards step, and that wasn't the direction she was looking to take.
Unfortunately some representative from the reformed Watchers Council - which so far consisted of a total of nine members - was landing at LAX at 7:00am the next morning, and she and Faith were nominated as the ones to do the meet and greet.
Caleb had blown up the Council HQ a year ago under the First's instructions, but there were several old watchers who had been in the early stages of retirement and some new watchers who were still in the ropes of training when that had happened, and they had all gathered together in the hopes of retaining the Council, and assisting the now many slayers which Willow had created.
Buffy inwardly scoffed at their so-called noble motives.
The blackness outside the bus seemed absolute and endless, the only thing occasionally disturbing it the shimmering city lights that were gaining closer and closer, signalling their impending arrival.
The glitter that was Los Angeles became visible as they descended a hill on the freeway, and a familiar pang shot through her gut like butterflies assaulting her insides. Possibly with grenades. It was a sensation mixed with apprehension and dread, and one she always got when those first infinitesimal signs of the sky scrape came into view over the horizon.
The only greeting this council representative was going to get from her was a snarky retort and a kick that should land him right back in the mother country.
You know, the usual.
Buffy and her friends had been the ones to train up and protect the potentials, and they would keep doing it, if it became necessary. Though all of the slayers had returned to their homes, there was always someone who needed helping, and they would be there to provide it.
As far as Buffy was concerned, the Council had died along with the Chosen *One*.
The bus depot was empty by this time of night, and Faith woke just as they juddered to a halt, arching her back like a cat as she stretched her limbs.
"Well, I feel rested". She rose to her feet, reaching up to the above compartment for her bag. "What's say we get in a few vamps on the town before sunrise? I remember L.A. packing a load full of 'em".
Buffy shot her a weary, withering look as they descended the bus with the few other late night travellers, and were assaulted by the cool night air. Trust Faith to be in the mood for some action when she was in the midst of such deep thoughts.
"I hope that was a joke. The only physical exercise I intend on doing is finding a motel that takes check-ins this late".
Faith hitched up her shoulder bag as they started between a neat line of Los Angeles Greyhounds. "This is L.A., B. The city that never sleeps or what the hell ever".
"I thought that was New York".
Faith rolled her eyes.
"We're here for one thing and one thing only", Buffy reminded her sternly, inwardly wondering when she became so stuffy. "Official business, remember?"
"I thought we were here to tell Blighter-boy where he can stuff it?"
Buffy shrugged. "Well, that too."
Faith sighed exasperatedly, flicking her wavy brown hair over one shoulder as she gave her friend a sidelong glance. "Come on. Be realistic, B. Pretty soon we're gonna have a bunch of watcher-boys panting down our necks, and this ain't a problem we're gonna fix with a carefully rehearsed speech and a few slaps up his royal-sized ass. These guys aren't going to go away".
Buffy quickened her pace, wrapping her arms over her midsection in an effort to ward off the chill. She was irritated that Faith would shoot down her ready-made solution so easily. "Did you have anything better in mind?"
"Now that you mention it."
Buffy half-turned, stopping mid-step and fixing her fellow slayer with a long, hard look, having no doubt as to what Faith was referring to. She should have known this would come up again.
"We've already been through this. And I am not asking him for his help. We've handled situations worse than this before, and we got through them without any help. So. No. Way."
Faith scowled, folding her arms and levelling Buffy with a look of impatience. The bus depot had already emptied and they were alone in the dimly lit car park. "And how many of those times were the end of the world? I'm not saying like it's the ideal solution, but we have connections to the lead of the most powerful business in L.A. and you're gonna throw that way because you're hung-up on a past with the guy?"
Buffy grit her teeth. She did not want to be discussing this, and she did not want to be discussing this in the middle of the cold night at two in the morning with Faith.
"I do *not* want to talk about Angel with you right now."
Thoughts of Angel brought up too many hurtful memories. Their last meeting, though leaving things open for the future, had felt too final. She knew that the world ending had to have had a significant influence to that atmosphere, but what happened after that was definitely enough for some reconsideration.
Faith threw up her hands. "Do you ever? Oh, but how could I forget? Still touchy from the last time, right?"
Buffy could feel her blood pumping. "Just drop it, okay?" she hissed through a clenched jaw.
Faith dropped her arms to her sides, stalking past her in the direction of the road. "Whatever. Do it the hard way. You'd think after everything you'da learnt better", she grunted under her breath.
"And what the hell does that mean?" Buffy snapped after her, whirling to follow her departing back.
This new improved percepto-Faith was grating hard. She didn't need someone to point out the things she'd rather keep hidden to herself, and she certainly didn't need that person to be Faith. It wasn't like she was willingly being repressive about her emotions. It had just become. necessary the past few months.
Faith stopped again, narrowing her heavily eye-lined black eyes into slits. "It means will you stop trying to be a damn martyr for half a second?" she burst out, waving her hands wildly. "You're a sucker for a cause, B, and this time you got none. You're putting your whole life on hold for what, a guy that's been gone for two months, and dead a whole while longer?"
Buffy felt herself draw in a hissing breath. Faith could point out her flaws, fine. But she didn't need to hear about Spike.
"This coming from Miss Commitment, who sends the first guy she even remotely likes packing at the first sign of something real?" she retorted brusquely.
Faith glared, pausing in her own diatribe. Her and Robin were complicated enough without Buffy putting in her two cents. "Low shot, B. And we're not here to rehash on relationships. It's like you left Sunnydale with us, but part of you stayed behind".
Buffy stared at her in disbelief. "Have you been. discussing this?"
Faith shifted, scuffing the toe of her boot on the concrete ground, head bowing so her golden brown hair toppled over her pale features. She shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact, itching for a cigarette. "We were worried. Or well, the others were, anyhow. Come on, Buffy. I know the slayer deal a little better than they do, and I can see you still aren't moving past it. I get that. You have a life handed to you when you weren't expecting one, and you got no clue what to do with it."
She unconsciously riffled in her pocket, withdrawing a cigarette, and she didn't know whether it was to warm her from the cold or from Buffy's frosty glare. "I'm just calling it like I see it, okay? We don't need another Council getting no ideas they got authority here. They never listened to us before. But if Wolfram and Hart could even slightly help, wouldn't you rather face Angel than risk putting off your life even more?"
Buffy was silent, eyeing her and something behind her head erratically. "Since when did you become so perceptive?" she ground out at long last.
Faith shrugged, puffing out long billows of smoke. "Not much else to do in a cell with twenty other chicks twenty four/seven."
She didn't voice her other concerns, that maybe Buffy didn't want to see Angel because Spike had died in his place, but instead tried to keep her voice tinged with its standard cynicism. Which wasn't all that hard.
"Is that a yes?"
"Is that a choice?"
****
TBC