Title: Into The Mirror
PART FOUR - The Calm
Quentin Travers stared at the phone, stonelike, each hand resting on the arm of the chair he sat in. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the grandfather clock.
*****
"What's happened to her...it's creepy, I tell you," said Cordelia, whispering as softly as she could. She was standing in the kitchen with Wesley, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke.
"Well, of course it is. The whole transformation into a vampire is rather...ew!," said Wesley, keeping his voice low.
"No! I mean who is this needy, whiny person in the next room? It's just so out of character, you know?," asked Cordelia.
"Oh. That transformation. Cordelia, I should remind you that even though we are whispering, vampires have exceptional hearing."
"I know that. I checked in on her a while back, just after sunrise. She's dead to the world."
Wesley gave Cordelia his best 'oh really?' look.
"Guess that goes without saying," said Cordelia, smiling awkwardly.
"You should lay down on the couch, get some sleep," suggested Wesley. "I need to talk to Angel. When I went back to the office, there were three messages on the answering machine. The first was a potential new client. Something about a possible ghost in her attic."
"If that was Mrs. Miller, Angel has already checked that out. She's got squirrels in the attic."
"Oh. Cute, furry little creatures," smiled Wesley. "But I guess they could do a lot of damage to a home."
"Nooo, I mean she's nuts," explained Cordelia.
"Oh. Moving on then, there was a message from Giles, saying that the Council informed him that a new Slayer had been called and to please call him."
"Wow, these Slayers don't waste any time, do they?," asked Cordelia.
Wesley allowed himself a brief smile.
"The third call was from Quentin Travers himself, asking if we knew what had happened to Faith. I don't know what we should tell him," said Wesley, taking a deep breath.
"Maybe he'll be happy? I mean, what the hell, he's got three Slayers now!"
Wesley stared at Cordelia for a moment.
"Right. Off to bed it is. Good night," said Cordelia, her face slightly red.
"Goodnight. I'll have to think about this. We definitely have a problem on our hands."
"Yes, we do."
"Angel!," said Wesley, turning around.
"Couldn't sleep?," asked Cordelia, hinting at the obvious.
Angel shook his head and looked down.
"Where's Gunn?," asked Angel.
"I sent him home to get some sleep. Where you should be," admonished Cordelia.
"Wesley, you were her Watcher," said Angel, ignoring Cordelia. "What we tell the Council and what we tell Giles and...and the others...maybe it should be two different things?"
"How do you mean?," asked Wesley.
"Giles can know the truth. He'd understand. Or at least keep it a secret. But the Council wanted Faith dead when she was alive. If they found out about this..."
"You think they'd...," began Cordelia, looking at Angel and then Wesley.
"They would," sighed Cordelia, shaking her head.
"Perhaps we could just tell them we don't know for now, to buy us some time," suggested Wesley.
"Don't I get a say in this?"
Everyone turned, surprised by Faith's sudden appearance. She stood behind Angel, leaning against the doorframe for support, her arms wrapped around herself. Her faced was less swollen but still black and blue.
"Faith. It's light out...you should be sleeping. How...how do you feel?," asked Wesley.
"That's just it. I don't feel anything. Is this what it feels like to be dead, Angel?"
Angel didn't answer her, but neither did he look away.
"Cordelia, if it's alright, I'd like to take a shower before I go back to bed," said Faith, still staring at Angel.
"Oh. Sure. In fact, that's a great idea. I can change the sheets while you're in there. And hey! I bought a few things at the store...thought you'd like a change of clothes. Pretty sure I got the size right. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I have an eye for that kind thing, you know?," winked Cordelia.
"Thanks. That was...I really appreciate it," smiled Faith weakly.
"Uh, hope you don't mind, but I stayed away from leather. A little too obvious, considering the circumstances," shrugged Cordelia.
"Faith, isn't there something you want to tell us? Before we call anyone," said Angel.
"Like what?," sneered Faith.
"Well, for starters, there's the issue of your escaping from prison. Oh, and...the dead guard," said Angel flatly.
Faith closed her eyes and shook her head.
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I didn't kill anyone."
No one said anything but they didn't take their eyes from Faith.
"I'm telling the truth! There's this gang in prison, not really into the rough stuff but they have their hands into everything. You want something, you go through them. Drugs, boyfriends, girlfriends, protection...you name it. They have most of the guards bought off. Not sure if they have the warden, too, or if he just looks the other way."
Faith lowered her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing as she did.
"They didn't bother me. Not much, anyway, 'cause I didn't want anything. Kept to myself, mostly. A couple of the girls resented that. So...there was this one guard causing them some trouble, poking his nose in where it didn't belong. To take him out, I was set up."
Faith looked from Angel to Wesley to Cordelia, unsure if they believed her. But she still had their attention.
"We came back from a work detail, picking up garbage. I knew something was up...no one was talking and a few of the girls kept staring at me. I was the last one out of the van, I got out...and someone shoved a gun into my hand. She ran inside and shut the door. I tried the door but I was locked out. On the other side of the van was the body of the guard."
Cordelia looked down and Wesley sighed. Angel's face didn't reveal what he was thinking.
"He was already dead! Next thing I know a guard is yelling at me to drop the gun. So I did. And then I freaked, knowing what was happening. And I ran. He fired four times. Only hit me once," laughed Faith.
"Faith, why did you run? You could've explained what happened!," said Wesley.
"And you think they would've believed me?," yelled Faith, grabbing her side. "Hell, you don't even believe me."
"No. You did the right thing," said Angel softly.
Cordelia raised her eyebrows and stared at Angel. Wesley was about to argue but changed his mind.
"Why was Kate so interested in you?," asked Angel.
"Who?"
"Kate Lockley. Your arresting officer," added Angel.
"Didn't know she was," shrugged Faith. "Only saw her once the whole time I was there. She had a notebook with her. Would look at it, look at me...and then she started to cry. She got up and left. Never saw her again."
The room got quiet very quickly. Faith closed her eyes and leaned up against the doorframe again.
"Tell them the truth. Tell them I'm dead."
Faith started gingerly walking towards the bathroom, favoring one leg.
"Oh, wait! Let me cover the mirror," cried Cordelia, running ahead of her into the bathroom.
Faith glanced at Angel but quickly looked away.
"Faith..."
"Not now, Angel. Not now," snapped Faith.
"Faith," said Wesley.
She looked up at him.
"For what it's worth, I believe you," said Wesley. He turned and walked away, not waiting for her reaction.
"All set!," announced Cordelia. "You'll find a couple of shopping bags in there to rummage through," she added with a smile.
Faith smiled and nodded, her eyes still on Wesley's back as he walked into the next room.
"Need help getting out of that shirt? Might be hard to lift it over your head," frowned Cordelia.
"No. But...thanks," nodded Faith.
"Okay. Just call me if you need anything," smiled Cordelia.
Faith and Angel looked at her. Cordelia tried to smile again.
"I'll go make the bed," said Cordelia, quickly walking away.
Faith looked at Angel. This time he looked away first.
*****
"No, read the local papers, ask some questions, just keep a low profile. You are not to have any contact with Wesley. All we know at this point is that she is dead."
"The earliest we could retrieve you would be tomorrow, so consider this a well deserved vacation. I'll contact you again after I've talked to Wesley."
"Very Well."
Quentin hung up the phone. He rested his chin on his hand for a moment and then opened his desk drawer, taking out a leather bound address book.
*****
"Cordelia?"
Faith came out of the bathroom holding a brush, her hair damp and a tangled mess. She had managed to get into a plain white button down blouse and a pair of denim jeans. Her feet were bare. Cordelia was asleep on the couch. Faith looked down at the brush in her hand and shook her head.
She knew Angel was in the room with her even before she turned around. He was standing against the far wall with his arms crossed, watching her.
"I was going to ask her to help me brush my hair. I'm...I'm having a little trouble," said Faith, wrinkling her nose.
"It takes some getting used to. Not using the mirror, I mean," said Angel.
"Um, actually, it's that I can't raise my arm up," said Faith, looking down at the floor.
"Oh."
She allowed Angel to stand in front of her but still didn't look up.
"Here, let me help," offered Angel softly.
Faith felt him take the brush from her hand.
"Sit down at the table," said Angel, gently guiding Faith with one hand on her shoulder.
He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down, her back to him. She felt the brush pull slowly through her hair. When he hit a snag Angel gently tugged the brush past it. Faith closed her eyes, her mind begging for sleep but her body unwilling to move.
"Faith," began Angel, still brushing her hair as he talked. "I've been thinking. A lot. It doesn't matter that I know what you're going through. Or that I want to teach you about...things you need to know. I want to help you, so badly. More importantly, you have to believe me when I tell you that this is what I thought you wanted. Another chance."
Angel stopped, put the brush on the table and bent down on one knee next to Faith. She opened her eyes but stared out ahead of her.
"I never would've forced you. Never. Did I enjoy what I did? You're beginning to understand that more than just a part of me did. But I think you're also beginning to understand that...that I hate what I am. What we are. And that I hate what I had to do even more. I'm sorry. But if I had to do it all over again, you would still be sitting here."
Faith turned her face ever so slightly towards Angel.
"I want to believe you, Angel. I need to. And, to be honest, there's a lot that I don't remember. It's...real confusing. But I didn't ask for this. I didn't. Maybe it's just regret that I'm feeling, or betrayal, or anger...I just don't know," said Faith, shaking her head. She turned to face him.
"This much I do know. I can't do this alone. I need you. Maybe that's what I'm most afraid of. More than anything else. So don't apologize. What's done is done. Just...just help me deal. Okay?"
Angel nodded and turned his head so that she couldn't see his face. He grabbed the brush and stood behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder, and began brushing her hair again. Faith raised her right hand, hesitated, then placed it over Angel's. He stopped brushing for just a moment, again glad that she couldn't see his face.
"That's it? You're letting me off that easy?," asked Angel.
"I'm not going to give in to the anger. Not this time. It's just too easy to lose myself in that...too easy to get lost. Look at what happened the last time, Angel. And not only to me," said Faith quietly.
"Faith, you don't need to blame..."
"I wanted to kill you, you know. And I would have. That's how much I hated you at that moment," whispered Faith.
This time Angel didn't stop what he was doing. He gently brushed her hair as if he hadn't heard.
"And when I knew I couldn't...I wanted you to kill me. Just like the last time we fought. But you wouldn't do it. Just like the last time," sighed Faith.
"You're wrong."
"What?," asked Faith, slightly turning her head.
"You didn't want to die. If you did, you never would have called out my name," said Angel confidently.
Faith closed her eyes and let Angel brush her hair.
"Wesley went to get some more blood. He should be back any minute. You need to sleep, but you should drink before you go to bed. It'll help with the healing," explained Angel.
"Angel, I don't want human blood. Ever. Just so everyone knows. Okay?"
Angel smiled.
"I'm serious. You have to promise me, Angel. You have to."
"I promise. More than that, I understand. All done."
Angel gave her shoulder a little squeeze and Faith quickly lowered her hand, forgetting that it was still covering his. She stood up and faced him.
"Thanks," said Faith, smiling uncomfortably as she took the brush from him. "I'll go put this back."
There was a knock at the door and they heard Wesley call out Angel's name. Faith went into the bathroom as Angel opened the door.
"I was only able to get two quarts. I hope that will be enough," said Wesley, placing the bag on the counter.
"It'll do. I won't have any."
Angel nodded in the direction of the couch and Wesley saw that Cordelia was asleep. Wesley smiled his approval as Angel opened the bag and put the containers in the refrigerator, sniffing them as he did to make sure they were pig's blood. The phone rang and Wesley picked it up on the first ring, hoping that it didn't wake up Cordelia. He glanced at her but she didn't stir.
"Hello?"
There was a moment of silence before Quentin spoke.
"Hello Wesley. I was wondering if you got my message."
"Quentin!," said Wesley, making eye contact with Angel. "Why, yes. Yes I did. I would've returned your call sooner, but, well, we just don't know much yet. All we're sure of is that Faith was shot during an escape from prison. And, uh, since the next Slayer has been called, she's dead. Obviously," added Wesley.
"Obviously," repeated Quentin.
"I'm surprised you knew this number," said Wesley nervously.
"You shouldn't be. Being successful means keeping tabs on small details, Wesley."
"Yes. Yes, of course. Does the Council care what we do with the body? Assuming we find it, that is," gulped Wesley.
"No. You can make the arrangements if you like. You were her Watcher, after all. Such a waste. Still, it could have been worse."
"Worse? How?," demanded Wesley, somewhat shocked.
"Are you forgetting her last foray among civilians? We even had a Retrieval Team in place."
"You do?"
Faith came out of the bathroom and excitedly walked over to the empty bag on the counter, peering inside of it. She didn't notice Angel waving his arms at her.
"Hey, Wes. Where's the blood? Thought I'd have a snack before bedtime," said Faith, smiling as she turned around.
Angel's eyes went wide and Wesley put his hand over the mouth of the telephone. Faith's mouth opened and she raised her eyes in a questioning gesture. Wesley raised the phone to his ear but all he heard was a dial tone.
"Oh dear," winced Wesley.
*****
"Giles, they haven't called yet?," asked Buffy.
"Not since the last time you asked," answered Giles patiently.
"Well, let's call Cordelia. We have her number?," wondered Buffy out loud.
"Uh-oh," sighed Willow, glancing up from her computer screen.
"I know that sound. It's never a good," sighed Buffy.
"No. It isn't. I was checking through some of the LA papers. Faith made the front pages again," scowled Willow.
Buffy and Giles made their way behind Willow and stared at the monitor. Faith's photo was printed below the headline which Buffy read out loud.
"One guard dead in prison escape...wounded prisoner sought."
Buffy shook her head and didn't read any more of the article.
"So she must've died from her wounds. Knowing Faith, her body is probably lying in some seedy motel or an abandoned warehouse," said Willow.
"And she was all alone, even at the end," said Giles, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He placed them back on his nose and walked away without looking at either Buffy or Willow.
Willow looked at Buffy, not concealing her surprise. Buffy turned and watched Giles as he left the room.
*****
"Cordelia, let's go!"
"Just a minute, Angel! I need to put on some lipstick!," complained Cordelia.
Cordelia fumbled through a drawer, finally settling on a dark shade of red. She looked up and groaned, seeing the wall where her mirror had been. Digging through the drawer again, she found a compact mirror and held it up, applying the lipstick.
"Cordelia!"
"Be right there!," yelled Cordelia, rolling her lips together and taking one last look into the mirror. She tossed the compact onto the dresser.
The sun had only set a few minutes earlier when they came out of her apartment. Angel opened the door of his car for Cordelia to get in but she just stood there. He looked up and saw why.
"Hello Angel. Cordelia," nodded Kate. "In a hurry to go somewhere?"
"Actually, we were..."
"Actually, sir, we don't care," said a man standing behind Kate.
"Oh, where are my manners? This is Sargent Morgan. He has a search warrant for your apartment. So if you don't mind?," smiled Kate, extending her arm back towards the apartment.
Cordelia gave Angel a very worried look.
"And why would you want to search Cordelia's apartment?," asked Angel.
"Oh, Angel. Where do I start? Obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting, harboring a fugitive...let's just get this over with, shall we?"
Angel slammed the car door shut and walked back the way they had come.
As Cordelia got her keys out Kate glanced at the floor. She and Angel went inside but Kate hesitated, pulling up the corner of the welcome mat with a heel of her shoe. There were no stains on the carpet beneath. Sargent Morgan raised one eyebrow at her as they entered the apartment.
Cordelia was sitting down on the couch, her head in her hands. Angel stood by the door to Cordelia's bedroom with his arms crossed. He simply gestured with his head for Kate to go in. Kate flashed the Sargent an apprehensive look but went into the bedroom. She only took one step.
Faith was lying on the bed, arms by her sides.
"Go on, Kate. This is what you came for, isn't it?," asked Angel. "Oh, she's quite dead. Check her pulse if you don't believe me."
Kate didn't move. She slowly turned her head towards Angel and he was shocked to see that she actually looked sad.
"Want me to check out the corpse?," asked the Sargent.
"No. I'll do it," replied Kate.
Kate stood by the bed for a moment, looking down at Faith. She bent over and placed a hand on Faith's cold neck, knowing that there would be no pulse. As she leaned over, the cross that hung around her neck swung free, dipping alarmingly close to Faith's face. Angel's eyes opened wide but he didn't move.
As Kate stood up, she stared in the direction of the dresser.
"What happened here?," she asked.
"A little accident. Got clumsy moving the furniture around," said Angel flatly.
"You lied to me, Angel. Why didn't you tell me about Faith?," asked Kate, glaring at him.
"I didn't lie. I told you if I ever saw her alive again I would tell you," smiled Angel.
"Want me to run him in?," asked the Sargent.
"Before you do, there's another problem you should be aware of. Faith told us that she was set up. That whole escape was simply a cover to kill that officer. He was taken out because he wouldn't take a bribe. Unlike most of the other guards in that prison."
Sargent Morgan quickly and obviously became upset at hearing that accusation.
"You've got a gang running that prison, Sargent Morgan. Where exactly do you think Faith got that gun from? It was slapped into her hand and she was locked out, there to take the fall. That gun have any more bullets in it? I doubt it. Faith didn't have many friends there, did she Kate?"
"It was my impression that she didn't have many friends anywhere, Angel. And you still haven't answered my question."
"I would have told you. Eventually. I couldn't at first. I was too angry. Angry at what was allowed to happen to her," added Angel with venom.
Kate didn't respond to that and she didn't look at Angel.
"We want to bury her in Sunnydale. She had friends there once. If that's alright with you, that is," said Angel.
Kate simply nodded her assent.
"I have a question," said the Sargent. "You changed her into different clothes. Why? They don't look like what you'd bury someone in."
"We didn't want her friends to see what happened to her. These aren't the clothes she'll have on at her funeral," said Angel.
"But her friends will find out what really happened to her, won't they, Angel?," smiled Kate.
Angel stared at her, unsure of what she had meant but afraid to ask.
"Should I send for the coroner?," asked Sargent Morgan.
"No. I'll do you a favor, Angel, and take care of the paperwork. In my line of work...well, lately, I've gotten to know the coroner on a first name basis."
"But..."
"Let's go, Sargent. Be seeing you, Angel. We'll let ourselves out."
Angel stood there, staring at Faith. As soon as the door clicked shut Faith opened her eyes and touched her face with her hand.
"Is there a mark on my face? My God, it felt like a white-hot poker was an inch from my skin!," said Faith.
"No. No mark. You were amazing. Faith, even I would've flinched with a cross that close to me," said Angel, shaking his head.
"What can I say, tough guy? Women just have a higher threshold for pain," smiled Faith.
"What now?," asked Cordelia, suddenly standing in the doorway.
"Plan B. Road trip," answered Angel.
"Huh?," grunted Faith, sitting up.
"Even if the cops aren't looking for you here, the Council will be. Los Angeles isn't safe for you right now," explained Angel.
"So it's plan B as in Buffy? Oh yeah, the Council would never think to look in Sunnydale," said Faith.
"Got any better ideas?," inquired Angel.
"Sure. Plan S as in Seattle. I hear in rains a lot there. Suddenly I'm appreciating the thought of many cloudy days," said Faith.
"No. We're not running. I need to talk to Giles."
"So call him. And we? We don't have to. I have to. This is your home now, Angel."
"You said it yourself, Faith. You need me. You're not ready to be on your own yet and you know it. And I don't want to risk using the phone. Now come help me get a few things together," ordered Angel, leaving the room before she could reply.
Faith stood there, staring at Cordelia.
"Once he's made his mind up he can be pretty stubborn," said Cordelia.
Faith begrudgingly nodded and left the room. Cordelia walked around to the other side of the bed, straightening out the comforter and fluffing up the pillow. She sat down on the edge of the bed and noticed her reflection in the compact mirror on her dresser.
"Great. Dark circles," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Boy, do I need a good night's sleep."
*****
It had only taken Quentin Travers three glasses of scotch to help him decide what to do. But they had been full glasses. Even so, his hand trembled as he reached for the phone. He quickly pushed a few numbers and then slammed the phone down, angry at himself for making a mistake. Taking a deep breath, he punched in the connection again, this time much more slowly.
"Yes. I need two tickets for the next flight to Los Angeles. Is my nephew's passport in order yet?"
"Good. Make all the necessary arrangements. I don't want any problems with Customs. Have a car around front in half an hour."
Quentin hung up the phone and withdrew a set of keys from his pocket, opening his lower left-hand drawer. He took out a small wooden box, not much larger than a pack of cigarettes. Flipping up the clasp, he glanced at the two wax sealed test tubes, each containing a clear liquid. Snapping the box closed, he slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket and stared at the bottle of scotch on his desk.
He decided that another glass of the single malt was very much in order.
END OF PART FOUR
PART FOUR - The Calm
Quentin Travers stared at the phone, stonelike, each hand resting on the arm of the chair he sat in. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the grandfather clock.
*****
"What's happened to her...it's creepy, I tell you," said Cordelia, whispering as softly as she could. She was standing in the kitchen with Wesley, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke.
"Well, of course it is. The whole transformation into a vampire is rather...ew!," said Wesley, keeping his voice low.
"No! I mean who is this needy, whiny person in the next room? It's just so out of character, you know?," asked Cordelia.
"Oh. That transformation. Cordelia, I should remind you that even though we are whispering, vampires have exceptional hearing."
"I know that. I checked in on her a while back, just after sunrise. She's dead to the world."
Wesley gave Cordelia his best 'oh really?' look.
"Guess that goes without saying," said Cordelia, smiling awkwardly.
"You should lay down on the couch, get some sleep," suggested Wesley. "I need to talk to Angel. When I went back to the office, there were three messages on the answering machine. The first was a potential new client. Something about a possible ghost in her attic."
"If that was Mrs. Miller, Angel has already checked that out. She's got squirrels in the attic."
"Oh. Cute, furry little creatures," smiled Wesley. "But I guess they could do a lot of damage to a home."
"Nooo, I mean she's nuts," explained Cordelia.
"Oh. Moving on then, there was a message from Giles, saying that the Council informed him that a new Slayer had been called and to please call him."
"Wow, these Slayers don't waste any time, do they?," asked Cordelia.
Wesley allowed himself a brief smile.
"The third call was from Quentin Travers himself, asking if we knew what had happened to Faith. I don't know what we should tell him," said Wesley, taking a deep breath.
"Maybe he'll be happy? I mean, what the hell, he's got three Slayers now!"
Wesley stared at Cordelia for a moment.
"Right. Off to bed it is. Good night," said Cordelia, her face slightly red.
"Goodnight. I'll have to think about this. We definitely have a problem on our hands."
"Yes, we do."
"Angel!," said Wesley, turning around.
"Couldn't sleep?," asked Cordelia, hinting at the obvious.
Angel shook his head and looked down.
"Where's Gunn?," asked Angel.
"I sent him home to get some sleep. Where you should be," admonished Cordelia.
"Wesley, you were her Watcher," said Angel, ignoring Cordelia. "What we tell the Council and what we tell Giles and...and the others...maybe it should be two different things?"
"How do you mean?," asked Wesley.
"Giles can know the truth. He'd understand. Or at least keep it a secret. But the Council wanted Faith dead when she was alive. If they found out about this..."
"You think they'd...," began Cordelia, looking at Angel and then Wesley.
"They would," sighed Cordelia, shaking her head.
"Perhaps we could just tell them we don't know for now, to buy us some time," suggested Wesley.
"Don't I get a say in this?"
Everyone turned, surprised by Faith's sudden appearance. She stood behind Angel, leaning against the doorframe for support, her arms wrapped around herself. Her faced was less swollen but still black and blue.
"Faith. It's light out...you should be sleeping. How...how do you feel?," asked Wesley.
"That's just it. I don't feel anything. Is this what it feels like to be dead, Angel?"
Angel didn't answer her, but neither did he look away.
"Cordelia, if it's alright, I'd like to take a shower before I go back to bed," said Faith, still staring at Angel.
"Oh. Sure. In fact, that's a great idea. I can change the sheets while you're in there. And hey! I bought a few things at the store...thought you'd like a change of clothes. Pretty sure I got the size right. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I have an eye for that kind thing, you know?," winked Cordelia.
"Thanks. That was...I really appreciate it," smiled Faith weakly.
"Uh, hope you don't mind, but I stayed away from leather. A little too obvious, considering the circumstances," shrugged Cordelia.
"Faith, isn't there something you want to tell us? Before we call anyone," said Angel.
"Like what?," sneered Faith.
"Well, for starters, there's the issue of your escaping from prison. Oh, and...the dead guard," said Angel flatly.
Faith closed her eyes and shook her head.
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I didn't kill anyone."
No one said anything but they didn't take their eyes from Faith.
"I'm telling the truth! There's this gang in prison, not really into the rough stuff but they have their hands into everything. You want something, you go through them. Drugs, boyfriends, girlfriends, protection...you name it. They have most of the guards bought off. Not sure if they have the warden, too, or if he just looks the other way."
Faith lowered her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing as she did.
"They didn't bother me. Not much, anyway, 'cause I didn't want anything. Kept to myself, mostly. A couple of the girls resented that. So...there was this one guard causing them some trouble, poking his nose in where it didn't belong. To take him out, I was set up."
Faith looked from Angel to Wesley to Cordelia, unsure if they believed her. But she still had their attention.
"We came back from a work detail, picking up garbage. I knew something was up...no one was talking and a few of the girls kept staring at me. I was the last one out of the van, I got out...and someone shoved a gun into my hand. She ran inside and shut the door. I tried the door but I was locked out. On the other side of the van was the body of the guard."
Cordelia looked down and Wesley sighed. Angel's face didn't reveal what he was thinking.
"He was already dead! Next thing I know a guard is yelling at me to drop the gun. So I did. And then I freaked, knowing what was happening. And I ran. He fired four times. Only hit me once," laughed Faith.
"Faith, why did you run? You could've explained what happened!," said Wesley.
"And you think they would've believed me?," yelled Faith, grabbing her side. "Hell, you don't even believe me."
"No. You did the right thing," said Angel softly.
Cordelia raised her eyebrows and stared at Angel. Wesley was about to argue but changed his mind.
"Why was Kate so interested in you?," asked Angel.
"Who?"
"Kate Lockley. Your arresting officer," added Angel.
"Didn't know she was," shrugged Faith. "Only saw her once the whole time I was there. She had a notebook with her. Would look at it, look at me...and then she started to cry. She got up and left. Never saw her again."
The room got quiet very quickly. Faith closed her eyes and leaned up against the doorframe again.
"Tell them the truth. Tell them I'm dead."
Faith started gingerly walking towards the bathroom, favoring one leg.
"Oh, wait! Let me cover the mirror," cried Cordelia, running ahead of her into the bathroom.
Faith glanced at Angel but quickly looked away.
"Faith..."
"Not now, Angel. Not now," snapped Faith.
"Faith," said Wesley.
She looked up at him.
"For what it's worth, I believe you," said Wesley. He turned and walked away, not waiting for her reaction.
"All set!," announced Cordelia. "You'll find a couple of shopping bags in there to rummage through," she added with a smile.
Faith smiled and nodded, her eyes still on Wesley's back as he walked into the next room.
"Need help getting out of that shirt? Might be hard to lift it over your head," frowned Cordelia.
"No. But...thanks," nodded Faith.
"Okay. Just call me if you need anything," smiled Cordelia.
Faith and Angel looked at her. Cordelia tried to smile again.
"I'll go make the bed," said Cordelia, quickly walking away.
Faith looked at Angel. This time he looked away first.
*****
"No, read the local papers, ask some questions, just keep a low profile. You are not to have any contact with Wesley. All we know at this point is that she is dead."
"The earliest we could retrieve you would be tomorrow, so consider this a well deserved vacation. I'll contact you again after I've talked to Wesley."
"Very Well."
Quentin hung up the phone. He rested his chin on his hand for a moment and then opened his desk drawer, taking out a leather bound address book.
*****
"Cordelia?"
Faith came out of the bathroom holding a brush, her hair damp and a tangled mess. She had managed to get into a plain white button down blouse and a pair of denim jeans. Her feet were bare. Cordelia was asleep on the couch. Faith looked down at the brush in her hand and shook her head.
She knew Angel was in the room with her even before she turned around. He was standing against the far wall with his arms crossed, watching her.
"I was going to ask her to help me brush my hair. I'm...I'm having a little trouble," said Faith, wrinkling her nose.
"It takes some getting used to. Not using the mirror, I mean," said Angel.
"Um, actually, it's that I can't raise my arm up," said Faith, looking down at the floor.
"Oh."
She allowed Angel to stand in front of her but still didn't look up.
"Here, let me help," offered Angel softly.
Faith felt him take the brush from her hand.
"Sit down at the table," said Angel, gently guiding Faith with one hand on her shoulder.
He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down, her back to him. She felt the brush pull slowly through her hair. When he hit a snag Angel gently tugged the brush past it. Faith closed her eyes, her mind begging for sleep but her body unwilling to move.
"Faith," began Angel, still brushing her hair as he talked. "I've been thinking. A lot. It doesn't matter that I know what you're going through. Or that I want to teach you about...things you need to know. I want to help you, so badly. More importantly, you have to believe me when I tell you that this is what I thought you wanted. Another chance."
Angel stopped, put the brush on the table and bent down on one knee next to Faith. She opened her eyes but stared out ahead of her.
"I never would've forced you. Never. Did I enjoy what I did? You're beginning to understand that more than just a part of me did. But I think you're also beginning to understand that...that I hate what I am. What we are. And that I hate what I had to do even more. I'm sorry. But if I had to do it all over again, you would still be sitting here."
Faith turned her face ever so slightly towards Angel.
"I want to believe you, Angel. I need to. And, to be honest, there's a lot that I don't remember. It's...real confusing. But I didn't ask for this. I didn't. Maybe it's just regret that I'm feeling, or betrayal, or anger...I just don't know," said Faith, shaking her head. She turned to face him.
"This much I do know. I can't do this alone. I need you. Maybe that's what I'm most afraid of. More than anything else. So don't apologize. What's done is done. Just...just help me deal. Okay?"
Angel nodded and turned his head so that she couldn't see his face. He grabbed the brush and stood behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder, and began brushing her hair again. Faith raised her right hand, hesitated, then placed it over Angel's. He stopped brushing for just a moment, again glad that she couldn't see his face.
"That's it? You're letting me off that easy?," asked Angel.
"I'm not going to give in to the anger. Not this time. It's just too easy to lose myself in that...too easy to get lost. Look at what happened the last time, Angel. And not only to me," said Faith quietly.
"Faith, you don't need to blame..."
"I wanted to kill you, you know. And I would have. That's how much I hated you at that moment," whispered Faith.
This time Angel didn't stop what he was doing. He gently brushed her hair as if he hadn't heard.
"And when I knew I couldn't...I wanted you to kill me. Just like the last time we fought. But you wouldn't do it. Just like the last time," sighed Faith.
"You're wrong."
"What?," asked Faith, slightly turning her head.
"You didn't want to die. If you did, you never would have called out my name," said Angel confidently.
Faith closed her eyes and let Angel brush her hair.
"Wesley went to get some more blood. He should be back any minute. You need to sleep, but you should drink before you go to bed. It'll help with the healing," explained Angel.
"Angel, I don't want human blood. Ever. Just so everyone knows. Okay?"
Angel smiled.
"I'm serious. You have to promise me, Angel. You have to."
"I promise. More than that, I understand. All done."
Angel gave her shoulder a little squeeze and Faith quickly lowered her hand, forgetting that it was still covering his. She stood up and faced him.
"Thanks," said Faith, smiling uncomfortably as she took the brush from him. "I'll go put this back."
There was a knock at the door and they heard Wesley call out Angel's name. Faith went into the bathroom as Angel opened the door.
"I was only able to get two quarts. I hope that will be enough," said Wesley, placing the bag on the counter.
"It'll do. I won't have any."
Angel nodded in the direction of the couch and Wesley saw that Cordelia was asleep. Wesley smiled his approval as Angel opened the bag and put the containers in the refrigerator, sniffing them as he did to make sure they were pig's blood. The phone rang and Wesley picked it up on the first ring, hoping that it didn't wake up Cordelia. He glanced at her but she didn't stir.
"Hello?"
There was a moment of silence before Quentin spoke.
"Hello Wesley. I was wondering if you got my message."
"Quentin!," said Wesley, making eye contact with Angel. "Why, yes. Yes I did. I would've returned your call sooner, but, well, we just don't know much yet. All we're sure of is that Faith was shot during an escape from prison. And, uh, since the next Slayer has been called, she's dead. Obviously," added Wesley.
"Obviously," repeated Quentin.
"I'm surprised you knew this number," said Wesley nervously.
"You shouldn't be. Being successful means keeping tabs on small details, Wesley."
"Yes. Yes, of course. Does the Council care what we do with the body? Assuming we find it, that is," gulped Wesley.
"No. You can make the arrangements if you like. You were her Watcher, after all. Such a waste. Still, it could have been worse."
"Worse? How?," demanded Wesley, somewhat shocked.
"Are you forgetting her last foray among civilians? We even had a Retrieval Team in place."
"You do?"
Faith came out of the bathroom and excitedly walked over to the empty bag on the counter, peering inside of it. She didn't notice Angel waving his arms at her.
"Hey, Wes. Where's the blood? Thought I'd have a snack before bedtime," said Faith, smiling as she turned around.
Angel's eyes went wide and Wesley put his hand over the mouth of the telephone. Faith's mouth opened and she raised her eyes in a questioning gesture. Wesley raised the phone to his ear but all he heard was a dial tone.
"Oh dear," winced Wesley.
*****
"Giles, they haven't called yet?," asked Buffy.
"Not since the last time you asked," answered Giles patiently.
"Well, let's call Cordelia. We have her number?," wondered Buffy out loud.
"Uh-oh," sighed Willow, glancing up from her computer screen.
"I know that sound. It's never a good," sighed Buffy.
"No. It isn't. I was checking through some of the LA papers. Faith made the front pages again," scowled Willow.
Buffy and Giles made their way behind Willow and stared at the monitor. Faith's photo was printed below the headline which Buffy read out loud.
"One guard dead in prison escape...wounded prisoner sought."
Buffy shook her head and didn't read any more of the article.
"So she must've died from her wounds. Knowing Faith, her body is probably lying in some seedy motel or an abandoned warehouse," said Willow.
"And she was all alone, even at the end," said Giles, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He placed them back on his nose and walked away without looking at either Buffy or Willow.
Willow looked at Buffy, not concealing her surprise. Buffy turned and watched Giles as he left the room.
*****
"Cordelia, let's go!"
"Just a minute, Angel! I need to put on some lipstick!," complained Cordelia.
Cordelia fumbled through a drawer, finally settling on a dark shade of red. She looked up and groaned, seeing the wall where her mirror had been. Digging through the drawer again, she found a compact mirror and held it up, applying the lipstick.
"Cordelia!"
"Be right there!," yelled Cordelia, rolling her lips together and taking one last look into the mirror. She tossed the compact onto the dresser.
The sun had only set a few minutes earlier when they came out of her apartment. Angel opened the door of his car for Cordelia to get in but she just stood there. He looked up and saw why.
"Hello Angel. Cordelia," nodded Kate. "In a hurry to go somewhere?"
"Actually, we were..."
"Actually, sir, we don't care," said a man standing behind Kate.
"Oh, where are my manners? This is Sargent Morgan. He has a search warrant for your apartment. So if you don't mind?," smiled Kate, extending her arm back towards the apartment.
Cordelia gave Angel a very worried look.
"And why would you want to search Cordelia's apartment?," asked Angel.
"Oh, Angel. Where do I start? Obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting, harboring a fugitive...let's just get this over with, shall we?"
Angel slammed the car door shut and walked back the way they had come.
As Cordelia got her keys out Kate glanced at the floor. She and Angel went inside but Kate hesitated, pulling up the corner of the welcome mat with a heel of her shoe. There were no stains on the carpet beneath. Sargent Morgan raised one eyebrow at her as they entered the apartment.
Cordelia was sitting down on the couch, her head in her hands. Angel stood by the door to Cordelia's bedroom with his arms crossed. He simply gestured with his head for Kate to go in. Kate flashed the Sargent an apprehensive look but went into the bedroom. She only took one step.
Faith was lying on the bed, arms by her sides.
"Go on, Kate. This is what you came for, isn't it?," asked Angel. "Oh, she's quite dead. Check her pulse if you don't believe me."
Kate didn't move. She slowly turned her head towards Angel and he was shocked to see that she actually looked sad.
"Want me to check out the corpse?," asked the Sargent.
"No. I'll do it," replied Kate.
Kate stood by the bed for a moment, looking down at Faith. She bent over and placed a hand on Faith's cold neck, knowing that there would be no pulse. As she leaned over, the cross that hung around her neck swung free, dipping alarmingly close to Faith's face. Angel's eyes opened wide but he didn't move.
As Kate stood up, she stared in the direction of the dresser.
"What happened here?," she asked.
"A little accident. Got clumsy moving the furniture around," said Angel flatly.
"You lied to me, Angel. Why didn't you tell me about Faith?," asked Kate, glaring at him.
"I didn't lie. I told you if I ever saw her alive again I would tell you," smiled Angel.
"Want me to run him in?," asked the Sargent.
"Before you do, there's another problem you should be aware of. Faith told us that she was set up. That whole escape was simply a cover to kill that officer. He was taken out because he wouldn't take a bribe. Unlike most of the other guards in that prison."
Sargent Morgan quickly and obviously became upset at hearing that accusation.
"You've got a gang running that prison, Sargent Morgan. Where exactly do you think Faith got that gun from? It was slapped into her hand and she was locked out, there to take the fall. That gun have any more bullets in it? I doubt it. Faith didn't have many friends there, did she Kate?"
"It was my impression that she didn't have many friends anywhere, Angel. And you still haven't answered my question."
"I would have told you. Eventually. I couldn't at first. I was too angry. Angry at what was allowed to happen to her," added Angel with venom.
Kate didn't respond to that and she didn't look at Angel.
"We want to bury her in Sunnydale. She had friends there once. If that's alright with you, that is," said Angel.
Kate simply nodded her assent.
"I have a question," said the Sargent. "You changed her into different clothes. Why? They don't look like what you'd bury someone in."
"We didn't want her friends to see what happened to her. These aren't the clothes she'll have on at her funeral," said Angel.
"But her friends will find out what really happened to her, won't they, Angel?," smiled Kate.
Angel stared at her, unsure of what she had meant but afraid to ask.
"Should I send for the coroner?," asked Sargent Morgan.
"No. I'll do you a favor, Angel, and take care of the paperwork. In my line of work...well, lately, I've gotten to know the coroner on a first name basis."
"But..."
"Let's go, Sargent. Be seeing you, Angel. We'll let ourselves out."
Angel stood there, staring at Faith. As soon as the door clicked shut Faith opened her eyes and touched her face with her hand.
"Is there a mark on my face? My God, it felt like a white-hot poker was an inch from my skin!," said Faith.
"No. No mark. You were amazing. Faith, even I would've flinched with a cross that close to me," said Angel, shaking his head.
"What can I say, tough guy? Women just have a higher threshold for pain," smiled Faith.
"What now?," asked Cordelia, suddenly standing in the doorway.
"Plan B. Road trip," answered Angel.
"Huh?," grunted Faith, sitting up.
"Even if the cops aren't looking for you here, the Council will be. Los Angeles isn't safe for you right now," explained Angel.
"So it's plan B as in Buffy? Oh yeah, the Council would never think to look in Sunnydale," said Faith.
"Got any better ideas?," inquired Angel.
"Sure. Plan S as in Seattle. I hear in rains a lot there. Suddenly I'm appreciating the thought of many cloudy days," said Faith.
"No. We're not running. I need to talk to Giles."
"So call him. And we? We don't have to. I have to. This is your home now, Angel."
"You said it yourself, Faith. You need me. You're not ready to be on your own yet and you know it. And I don't want to risk using the phone. Now come help me get a few things together," ordered Angel, leaving the room before she could reply.
Faith stood there, staring at Cordelia.
"Once he's made his mind up he can be pretty stubborn," said Cordelia.
Faith begrudgingly nodded and left the room. Cordelia walked around to the other side of the bed, straightening out the comforter and fluffing up the pillow. She sat down on the edge of the bed and noticed her reflection in the compact mirror on her dresser.
"Great. Dark circles," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Boy, do I need a good night's sleep."
*****
It had only taken Quentin Travers three glasses of scotch to help him decide what to do. But they had been full glasses. Even so, his hand trembled as he reached for the phone. He quickly pushed a few numbers and then slammed the phone down, angry at himself for making a mistake. Taking a deep breath, he punched in the connection again, this time much more slowly.
"Yes. I need two tickets for the next flight to Los Angeles. Is my nephew's passport in order yet?"
"Good. Make all the necessary arrangements. I don't want any problems with Customs. Have a car around front in half an hour."
Quentin hung up the phone and withdrew a set of keys from his pocket, opening his lower left-hand drawer. He took out a small wooden box, not much larger than a pack of cigarettes. Flipping up the clasp, he glanced at the two wax sealed test tubes, each containing a clear liquid. Snapping the box closed, he slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket and stared at the bottle of scotch on his desk.
He decided that another glass of the single malt was very much in order.
END OF PART FOUR