The Road Less Traveled

Chapter Four—Getting Out

This is hell… Faith couldn't block out the light piercing her eyes. Doing so would mean taking her hands from her ears, which were shielding her from the voices. Oh god, the voices…

She couldn't understand the language they were speaking. It made no sense, and it was showing no signs of stopping. And now that creeping, invasive sensation had returned. Something small. Crawling up her arms…her shoulder…her neck…it was in her hair.

And the light…

This is hell. This is hell. This is hell.

"I'm going on patrol," Faith announced.

Robin removed his hand from her hair. "What?"

"Yeah. I gotta go." Faith stood up and went to find her boots, cutting off the overhead light. On the other bed, Xander and Andrew continued their discussion.

"Inertial dampeners will never be a reality. They're a plot convenience."

"No they're not, Xander! Automatic doors used to be looked at as a 'plot convenience,' and now they're in every supermarket!"

She found her boots and started to pull them on.

"Fine. But inertial dampeners? Dampening inertia? It's a law of physics. Not everything in high school escaped me, you know."

"We're talking about hundreds of years in the future, not tomorrow."

"Faith, wait."

She stopped, clearing her throat. She turned back to face him. "Yeah. What's up?"

Robin looked at her incredulously. "What's…up…?" He frowned. "You know what? Nothing. Never mind. Could you just pass me my medicine?"

Faith bristled, but tried to hide it. "Sure." The bottle was on the table by the door. She grabbed it.

"That gets back to my first point about time travel: going back in time and accidentally killing someone in your family creates the same paradox as if something in your time suddenly never existed at all."

"No, no, no, no—a grandfather paradox is not the same as a causality paradox!"

"Ok, Andrew, now you're just being a geek."

Faith tossed the bottle to Robin. "Anything else?"

He kept looking at her. "No."

"All right, then." She left.

As soon as she pulled the door shut, Faith breathed a sigh of relief. The night air was cool and fresh, not stuffy like the crowded motel room. The air conditioner had just made it worse; she didn't think it had been cleaned in…well…she didn't want to think about it. She took another breath to calm her nerves, then started walking. She didn't really know where, just away. She'd noticed a few places on the drive in that might have some night-life potential—maybe she'd head that way.

Whatever. The rest of the gang had shown up about an hour ago. They were split between the four rooms; how she ended up with all the guys, she just didn't know. Though now, she thought she might put up with the Dueling Dweebs better than playing nursemaid to Robin. How did I get into this? Is he willfully blind? Do I look like the caregiving type? She lit up a cigarette as she walked. The whole situation with Robin was not ok. Now that he was truly awake, she couldn't just ignore him any longer. And he didn't seem to be accepting that a roll in the sack before an apocalypse didn't mean lifelong commitment. Hell, it didn't mean next morning commitment. He was making her feel bad for being herself. I've had enough of that, thank you.

Faith walked faster. At least the mess with Robin had one thing going for it—it had kept her mind off of what had happened earlier that evening with Buffy. But now it was back.

Buffy had been dreaming…right? So how come I could feel it too?

Faith had just gotten Robin settled when she'd suddenly felt disoriented. She couldn't remember if she'd emptied the car or not. She'd felt afraid; afraid that something had happened to the car, that someone had stolen everything. But that was ridiculous—there was nothing to this town, no threats, no bad vibes. Nothing. But then a feeling washed over her that she'd abandoned Buffy—that she'd left Buffy to die. She'd felt sick to her stomach. When she closed her eyes against the nausea, she'd seen Buffy kneeling at her feet, the car at some distance in the sand. Buffy's shirt was soaked with blood, which made Faith push back the nausea, open her eyes and run outside, where she'd seen Buffy lying next to the car. Even though she was clearly unconscious, Faith had heard Buffy's spoken fear as plain as day: "She's not like that. She wouldn't just leave me here!" It had hurt. Faith had shrugged it off as she reached under Buffy to pull her up. As she sat her up, something caught her eye—the knife handle sticking out of Buffy's stomach. Faith's jaw dropped, but it had disappeared. When she looked back up at Buffy, she did it just in time to catch a right hook with her face.

Faith shook her head, trying to bring herself back to the present. It had been a slayer dream; she had shared enough with Buffy to know them by now. But she'd never been awake before. What's going on…?

No matter. Her wanderings had brought her to some dive called Off the Wagon. Soon Buffy, slayer dreams, Robin, and the jabbering geeks would be nothing but a lonely echo, at least for a little while. Good enough. She threw down her cigarette, ground it out with her heel, and sauntered in.

...

Buffy rolled over, grabbed the remote, and turned up the TV. Dawn looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

"Louder? Really? You've turned it up three times. Don't you have super-hearing or something?"

"Or something."

"Then why…" Dawn's gaze drifted to the bathroom past the two double beds. "Oh. Ew. Do what you need to."

"Thank you." Buffy leaned back in the bed she was sharing with her sister. To be fair, Willow and Kennedy were trying to be quiet. But then both Dawn and Buffy heard…something…bump up hard against the wall. Buffy sighed while Dawn tried to stifle a laugh. "How long are we living like this?"

Dawn smiled. "Giles said just until we know the next city we're driving to. We can leave when we want, as long as we're still safe here. Of course," her brow furrowed, "We probably shouldn't stay too too long. That never works out well in the movies."

"No, it doesn't." Buffy paused. "Where is Giles, anyway? I thought he'd be meeting us here. Or something. I have to ask him about—" The knife. "—slayer stuff."

Dawn shifted uncomfortably. "Oh…well…no, he's…I don't think he is."

Buffy looked at her. "Wow. Really? That's the best you can do?"

Dawn blinked. "What?"

"You SO just failed Keeping Secrets 101."

"I did not! It's just…"

"Dawn. Where is Giles?"

She slumped. "Honestly, I don't know. I just know he can take care of us, and that he won't be here for a long time."

Buffy stared. "Wait. When did this happen? Why not? Where is he?"

"Buffy, I swear I don't know."

Buffy stood up. "Why don't I know? Who does know?"

"No one."

Willow and Kennedy came out of the bathroom followed by plumes of steam. Buffy hadn't even heard the water cut off. They froze when they saw her stance.

"Will…did you know about Giles?"

Willow looked to Dawn, who was hanging her head, and then to Buffy. "Yes."

Buffy just stood there, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. Suddenly she felt as small as she did just a few days ago, standing on the porch of her own home after everyone that mattered to her had just told her to leave.

She set her jaw to force back the feelings. "Right, then." She grabbed her shoes and walked out the door.

...

Normally Buffy made it a point not to frequent bars with giant wagon wheels leaning against them, but since those were the only kind in town, well…sometimes exceptions have to be made. See? I'm flexible. Flexible me.

She pushed her way through the crowd to the bar. The perky bartender who was MAYBE twenty-two set Buffy up with a vodka tonic. Some of her perk left when Buffy asked her for a second before even starting on the first.

Buffy sighed and leaned back against the bar. She stared out over the dance floor, over the heads of scores of people smiling. Flirting. Dancing. Not caring.

A whole hellmouth less than a thousand miles away from these people and they'd never know it. They'd drink, dance, get hungover, go to work, collect their paychecks, buy cars, take their kids to school, shop for groceries…and they'd never know it. Buffy hung her head. Sunnydale, the hellmouth, her calling…that's all she'd known for years. All she'd ever see for a long time to come. Her eyes watered. Her glasses were empty. She got two more, plus a stare from the perky one. I used to be perky. I used to be like these people. I used to be free.

Buffy had thought that calling a whole generation of potential slayers to action would…well, honestly, first and foremost close the hellmouth. But she also thought she'd be less alone. Less lonely. Suddenly her eyes widened as her mind started racing. What if some didn't want to be called? What if they shouldn't be? What if they didn't want this? What if…oh god, what if I've made a horrible mistake? She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to keep a grip on herself. Too much. I'm thinking too much. About too many things.

And trying too hard not to think about others. Like her dream earlier.

Buffy was truly disturbed by what had happened when they'd first gotten to the motel. She'd shared dreams with Faith before, but never when one of them was awake. What did it mean? What the hell was going on? She was angry with herself for wanting to ask Giles—hadn't he betrayed her twice now? In what, a month? But the truth was, he could help her. He could help her understand. She counted on him to always be there, somehow. And now no one will tell me where he is.

She didn't know how many she'd had—Perky kept clearing them away. Smart. As she nursed the latest, Buffy looked longingly at the dance floor. Oh, to be a girl again. To not have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Her eyes fell on a beautiful girl dancing like there was no tomorrow. Buffy gave a half-smile as she sipped her drink. The girl was moving, moving, moving, never letting a single guy keep her in one place for long. They didn't seem to mind, though. There, Buffy thought. Why can't I be like that? Why do I have to have all of this…responsibility? She doesn't. Look how much fun she's having.

The girl spun around, flipping her hair out of her face and grinning at the crowd around her like she knew she'd won.

Buffy spilled her drink on the bar as recognition hit her. Faith. FAITH! Suddenly, for reasons she just couldn't explain, Buffy was enraged. Everything she was feeling—the hurt, the loneliness, the betrayal, the frustration, the anger, the fear—had just found a target, and that target was dancing, oblivious to the danger brewing at the bar.

"Miss?" Perky was trying to get her attention as she cleaned up her drink. "Miss, we got this, if you could just move your arm, there…" She went to gently touch Buffy's elbow, but Buffy had already spun around to catch her wrist. Unfortunately, the room kept spinning. Buffy faltered, and three guys jumped up to support her. Other people started to turn and look. No. No, no no! Please just leave me alone…

...

At the other end of the bar, a patron noticed the pretty blonde girl faltering and causing a mild scene. First of the night. Not bad.

But then he looked again, and a smile crept up on his face…

Slayer.

He tugged on the brim of his hat and took another drink. He liked places like this. The dim lighting hid the green tint of his skin, and tall hats were allowed which meant he could conceal the two short pairs of horns on this head. That, and you got a great treat every now and then. Like the chance to get back at a girl without even getting your claws dirty.

Even though he hadn't lived there in a long time, he knew what had happened in Sunnydale. The whole demon underground knew a hellmouth was closed. While the humans were searching for a terrorist, the creatures with brains knew it was the slayer. The slayer at the end of the bar.

He smiled again, and put on his red coat. He was going to call the police and let her own world deal with her; she'd beaten his enough. It was so easy he almost felt guilty. Almost. But then, she had interrupted a card game and cost him a lot of kittens…once upon a time.