Wearing Masks (Part 2)
Disclaimers
Legal:All characters are (c) Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy and probably a whole mess of other people. No infringement of copyright intended.
Archive:Go right ahead. Just let me know, please
Spoilers:All the way up to "Who Are You?"
Summary:Buffy is Faith, and Tara is . . .
Rating:R (MPAA) - violence, language, f/f concepts
Notes:Faith (in B's body) has just seduced Willow. The next morning, she wakes to discover that Joyce may be aware of her "daughter's" new affair.
I walk into the kitchen, all ready to give a cheery, 'Morning, Mom!', but it ain't Joyce sitting at the counter, a glass of milk in hand.
"Boss." I pull up short, then tug the robe around me tighter. It's weird as hell talking to a guy when he looks like a 20 year old chick, "what're you doin' here?"
"Just checking up on my girl." he chuckles, leaving me wonderin' if he means me or Red, "you needn't worry, I worked a little hocus-pocus to make sure we won't be disturbed. I must say I'm a bit disappointed in my Faith. Finding you in the arms of the enemy was not what I expected when I came here this morning."
I shrug and go to the fridge to get a couple of oranges,
"She was ripe for the picking, Boss. You wouldn't have needed me at all, if you'd just banged her yourself."
He frowns,
"I don't hold with that sort of thing. You should know that." He shudders delicately, "It's not natural."
This from a guy who wanted to become a demon.
"Well, it's a part of who I am, Boss." It used to be easy to call him that. Now, I all but force the word out, reaching for a large kitchen knife as I do. "And now, when I dump her, she'll go to pieces nice and easy, just like you wanted."
Four quick cuts with the knife, and the two oranges are in quarters.
"I know you thought you were doing the right thing," he sounds annoyed, though he's trying to hide it, "but you need to stick to the plan, Faith."
"Yeah?" I turn, picking up a slice of orange as I do, "Just what is the plan, Boss? Because I'm a bit fuzzy on that. You never used to play it like this with me."
He gives me that goofball smile again, but I'm watching his eyes, not his lips. There's no warmth there, anymore.
"You're a mite testy this morning." His smile fades, "I told you the plan last time, Faith, and you spilled it to that little blonde bitch and her friends. I don't want to risk that again."
I drop the orange.
I spilled the plan to B? Yeah, maybe I did, but that was when I figured that the guy he hired had turned Angel to our side. I wasn't the only one who got played, that day. Anger boils through me. Anger at him for pretending he cared. Anger at me for believing it.
The knife flashes in the sun as it strikes him above the heart. I nearly drop it when I realise what I've done. But then I see the blood, and the pain, and instinct takes over.
The blade plunges into him again and again, feeling almost like it's out of my control. The Mayor falls from the stool, and I kneel over him, stabbing down, blind with anger.
I don't know who I hate more. Him, for trying to play me, or me, for not seeing it 'til now. I really thought he cared for me. I really did. And here he is, telling me it's my fault I took an eight-month nap. My fault B kicked his slimy demonic ass. My fault we killed Allan Finch. My fault that dad left. My fault. It's always my fault. Well, not this time, "Boss".
Finally, my rage clears a little, and I gasp for breath. It takes precision to kill someone quickly with a knife, and I was in no mood to be precise. The girl who lies beneath me; and I can see that it is her again, now; is bloodied and close to death but not yet there. Oddly, there's something that looks like gratitude in her eyes.
Trembling, I reach down and touch her lips, wanting to apologise, but not knowing how. She seems to realise what I mean, because she smiles slightly. Then, for a moment, something else swims into her eyes, and I know the Mayor is still in there, fighting to get free.
She grimaces, hissing through her teeth, and I see the light of both of them dim in her eyes.
It's only now that I remember to be grateful that in this body he wasn't invulnerable. For a second, I have to fight back nausea at what might have happened if he was.
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Once my head clears, I move fast. There's no way of knowing how long the Boss' spell will keep Red and Mrs S sleeping, so I drag the body out of the house and dump it in some bushes. It's a poor excuse for a hiding place, but I need to get the kitchen cleared up before anyone else comes down and wonders what the hell went on.
Blood turns out to be as big a son of a bitch to get off the floor as it is to get out of clothes, and I don't have time to soak it in bleach for an hour. Instead, I wipe it up as best I can with a series of cloths, then stuff the sodden rags down in the bottom of the bin.
I'm just sighing in relief when I hear footsteps on the stairs and spot the bloodied knife, still lying on the bench. Lunging across the kitchen, I swing open the back door and hurl the blade to the far end of the yard.
"Hi honey, are you going somewhere?"
I nearly jump out of my skin, but manage to get a shaky smile on my face before I turn.
"Hi, Mom. No, I uh, just wanted a breath of fresh air." Realising that some of the blood from the knife is still on my hands, I slip them into the pockets of the robe I'm wearing. "Besides, I'm not really dressed for wandering the town . . ."
"So I see." She raises an eyebrow, "Oranges? Not having cereal this morning?"
"I felt like a change." I offer, lamely. Still, she seems to buy it.
"So did you and Willow sort out whatever was wrong?" she asks casually, while starting to make a pot of coffee.
"Yeah." I nod, then try to think of something else to say, "Will stayed the night, actually."
"I know." Mrs S answers calmly, spooning coffee into the percolator. "When I woke up and saw the time, I went to wake you."
"Oh."
For a moment, I stand there, not sure what to say. Then I grin, weakly,
"Would you believe she didn't have any PJs?"
"Please, Buffy." She gives me a withering look, "Don't insult my intelligence." Her tone turns gentle, "I just hope you girls know what you're doing."
"Me too." I make it sound meek and Buffy-like, but down in my gut it's true enough. I just killed the goddamn Mayor of Sunnydale. After B already did it before. If he came back once, he might do it again, and he won't make the mistake of trusting me, next time. My stomach churns at the thought. The Mayor was evil in a way I could never be. An evil that takes generations to build. If he does come back; and if I know anything about my shitty life he will; then I'm gonna need every ounce of help I can get.
"I gotta go see Willow." I head for the stairs, glad my hands are still in the robe's pockets, so Mrs S can't see them trembling. "Tell her you know about us."
She lets me go without saying a word, which is better than I'd hoped for. Of course, the tough call now is what exactly to tell Red.
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"Hey, Will." I shook her gently by the shoulder. It looks like 'Mom' drew the covers up when she came into the room.
"Wha?" Red struggles out of sleep slowly, giving me a puzzled look before memories of last night visibly swarm into her mind.
"Morning, sleepy-head." I jibe, keeping my tone friendly. "Time to get up."
"What time is it?" she asked, sitting up and drawing the bedclothes guiltily up to her chin. I've seen these signs often enough to recognise them.
"Don't weird out on me, Red." The snap in my tone makes her look at me; startles her enough that she doesn't notice my slip.
"But . . ." her voice quivers, and she pauses, "What are we going to do, Buffy? We shouldn't have . . ."
"Why not?" I stroke her hair back. It's something I saw the werewolf do for her when she was upset. Normally, I'm no good at this tenderness shit, but I need Red's help, so I gotta make an effort. "I don't regret it."
"But . . . your mom . . ."
"Mom knows." I shrug, "she came in and saw us in bed together. She's five – fine with it." I catch myself just in time. "Not thrilled, or nothing, but she's coping."
Red still looks miserable,
"What about Tara?" she asks at last. I could kiss her. It's the opening I've been waiting for.
"Maybe it was just jealousy, Will." I pause, as if reluctant to continue, "But I got a real weird vibe from her. Like she was hiding something. And then, right after meeting me, she disappears. It's a bit suspicious. How much do you really know about this girl?"
"She didn't talk about her past much . . ." Red admits, looking scared but thoughtful all at once, "You really think she might have been hiding something?"
"I think we should check." I say, firmly. "I could be way off base, but we need to know."
I've never been good at lying, but all this is true, so I sell it pretty well. I do need to know. I just went Lizzie Borden on the mayor's back-up body. If he has another way of coming back, it's a safe bet my name is on his shit-list. Maybe Red can dig something up that'll give me an idea how much trouble I'm in this time.
"We need to get back to school." Willow lets the covers drop to her lap as she speaks, and I make no effort to conceal the fact that I'm checking her out. "My computer is there."
"Gotcha." I stand, shrugging out of the robe. As I do, I glimpse my reflection in the vanity mirror. Damn, B is a nice piece of ass.
"Buffy?"
I turn, surprised to find a very naked Willow almost nose to nose with me.
"Yeah?" I ask, my voice even huskier than normal.
She kisses me, her mouth warm and sweet, and I feel my smile grow as her lips part to let her tongue play against mine.
As I push Red gently onto the bed, I remember how I was feeling last night at the Bronze.
# I'm gonna enjoy this. I mean, Jesus, I've got Buffy Summers' life. I've got her friends, her mom, her Watcher, her wardrobe. Hell, I've even got her charge cards. What's not to love? #
I suppress the urge to laugh as Willow gasps from my touch. Being Buffy Summers is even better than I thought it would be.
