Chapter 3: En Loco Parentis -

Thursday August 20, 1998; Emergency room, Sunnydale General Hospital, early AM.

Once he'd spoken to the ER duty nurse, Giles not only received permission to go back to where Cordelia was being treated, once he suggested he was Faith's guardian and that he could possibly help with her, he was practically shoved in that direction. One of the ER orderlies trailed along with him to ease him through to where he might do some good.

"Will it leave a scar? It will scar won't it? Just how bad a scar are we talking here?" Giles heard Cordelia's voice long before he came to her treatment area. It made the two of them rather easy to find.

He found himself forcing a small smile away as he pushed the doors open. Cordelia couldn't possibly be hurt truly badly if she were maintaining that volume of complaint.

A trauma doctor was working on Cordelia's shoulder when he came through the door, still in the process of cleaning the wound under local anesthetic prior to stitching. She glanced up as he entered and lit up, smiling brightly. "Giles!"

"And how are you, Cordelia?" Giles inquired, moving up beside Faith to grip Faith's shoulder reassuringly. Faith shot him a startled glance, then nodded and relaxed slightly under his hand.

"Oh, wonderful, you? I understand the hideously maimed look is so In this year!"

"I somehow doubt that you'll be maimed, and you could hardly manage hideous, Cordelia," Giles smiled at her, somewhat relieved. He glanced over Faith, and asked, "And you, Faith?"

"'M'allright," Faith nodded.

It took a less than intense scrutiny for him to determine that, while probably not badly physically injured, Faith was far from 'all right'. The young woman was shocky, scratched and bruised in numerous places, covered in blood - fortunately most of which was probably non-human - and saliva, with a wildly matted tangle of hair. Her eyes were slightly wide, unblinking, and she was currently wearing a blanket - and little else - over her chest and shoulders. Giles could feel her shivering intermittently under his hand.

"Of course you are," Giles nodded, his voice soothing. "However, you need to come with me to allow the medical people here to take a look at you."

"No." It came out as a harsh whisper. "Not hurt."

"I know," Giles nodded. "But please. Else these... people will never allow us to go until they've ascertained that for themselves, and then Cordelia will be forced to wait while we argue with them."

Faith blinked, and stared at him, then shot a suspicious glare at the doctor, orderly, and nurse. She looked at Cordelia, her eyes narrow.

"Oh please. I'm fine now - go with Giles. Last thing I need is to hang around here after they get done." Cordelia gave her an airy wave with the hand on the side not being worked on.

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure - ow!" Cordelia winced despite the local as the doctor began stitching. Faith snarled and the doctor threw her a nervous glance and looked at Giles with a slightly panicked expression. "I'm ok, jeeze. Just Doctor Mengele here hit his hands with the Novocain instead of my shoulder, Christ."

Faith nodded, and slumped slightly under Giles' hand. "All right. L's'go," she looked up at Giles.

Outside the care room, she turned to face Giles, looking up at him. "I can't do this, Giles," Faith shook her head. "Thought I could, but I can't."

"Nonsense." Giles reached out a hand and gently smoothed what he could of the matted hair back from her face.

"Not working. I've been trying, and people just keep getting hurt." Faith gave him a desperate look.

"Shh. You're doing fine." Giles met Faith's head shake with a serious look. "You didn't get Cordelia, Xander, or Willow hurt, did you?"

"No. But... "

"But you could have been faster? Or moved better? Stronger, perhaps? Or possibly have been everywhere at once?"

"Well, yeah." Faith frowned. "Well, no, but... "

"From what I'm told, you did the very best you could. The others aren't seriously injured, and I believe that you had a great deal to do with that."

"But my best isn't good enough!" Faith's voice rose on each word until it cracked.

"Young lady; your best is extraordinary." Giles cupped her cheek with his hand, "Sometimes these things happen, and even our best can't prevent them."

"So what do we do?"

"We go on, and we do what we can," Giles gave her a tight smile. "For now? We let these people clean you up a bit, and look at and take care of your injuries so that we can leave. From Xander and Oz, I'm given to understand those creatures have foul nails and fouler mouths." He gave her shoulder a tight clasp, "And then you go home with your friends and you take care of each other."

"Right." Faith nodded slightly and searched his eyes as if she were trying to push her gaze through the back of his skull - or possibly somewhere deeper. "Home." She nodded again, more firmly and her chin came up, "I have a home now."

Giles watched as an orderly and a nurse led her into one of the trauma rooms for care, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You most certainly do, child. You most certainly do."

...

Thursday August 20, 1998; Sunnydale Cemetery, roughly an hour past dawn.

Unlike a number of sites that Rupert Giles had seen, where the only evidence that a fierce life and death battle had taken place during the hours of darkness were scuff marks and piles of dust, this area looked like a battlefield. A small one, perhaps, but nonetheless a battlefield. Torn and gouged earth, smears of blood mixed with gouts and splashes of non-human bodily fluids, scuffed footprints and great gouges in the earth where clawed feet had scrabbled for purchase, and smashed vegetation.

And over it all, hung a stench redolent of a six month old abattoir that had been left to rot, then opened in a hot clime.

Giles examined curiously the partially opened grave that had been dug into, noting the scattering of vampire dust laying upon the freshly disturbed soil. He took note of the clawed, five toed footprints, then moved to carefully examine the trio of inhuman corpses.

He was forced to douse his handkerchief with lighter fluid and hold it to his nose and mouth to breathe through before he could even approach the bodies.

Finishing a minute examination of the most intact of the corpses, he moved to the headless one, staring for a long time before bending to examine it. The marble monument it lay near the base of was cracked and chipped, he noted, as though by a great impact.

After a time, he straightened painfully, rubbing at the small of his back, shaking his head.

Had he not seen the results and heard the accounts of Oz and young Harris, he would barely have credited that Faith - or indeed any slayer - could be possessed of the strength needed to literally rip a being's head from its shoulders with main strength alone. Possessed by, perhaps. To have accomplished this damage and the others evident upon the corpse, Faith must have been in the grips of a near berserkergang - if not far beyond such a pedestrian word.

He found it little wonder that among her injuries the medics had listed a dislocated left shoulder, a wrenched back, and several scraped sprained fingers on her hands. Giles found himself with little doubt that only adrenaline and sheer nerve had been keeping her on her feet at the hospital.

A flicker of something bright through some nearby shrubbery caught Giles' eye and he went to investigate. Pushing aside the foliage, he spotted first a foot encased in dark shoes and socks, then a tan coloured pants leg. Following the leg and pushing the foliage aside further, he found what was left of the rest of the grounds keeper. He backed away and let the branches close behind him again, blocking the view of the body.

Deciding that he'd seen enough for his purposes, Giles absently polished his glasses, replacing them and taking out his car keys. After a moment, he strode off down the path back to his car and the gates, anxious to be gone before any cemetery staff arrived on the scene.

No need to bother with dragging away the demonic looking corpses. Over time, Rupert Giles had begun to realize that not everyone in Sunnydale shared the complete obliviousness of some of the populace. Those entities who's corpses did not dissolve into muck or slime nevertheless somehow managed to never be left in place for very long after the light of morning revealed them.

A mental image of a secret wing of the Sunnydale morgue filled with rows of stainless cabinets containing scaled, slimy and/or taloned corpses in post autopsy state struck him, and he wished that he could take it as mere humorous whimsy.

...

Thursday August 20, 1998; Los Angeles, Gunn's gang's apartment complex, late afternoon.

Gunn and the rest of his people were gathered around the courtyard of the old apartment building when Buffy walked in trailing behind Pike. Still uncertain about the impulse that had led her to show up at Pike's workplace when he was getting off, Buffy had to resist the temptation to make herself unnoticeable, or try to.

"Hey, Pike," one of the other members of the group called out - another young black male possibly Gunn's age. He glanced over at Buffy with a smirk. "So, Barbie decided to make it after all, huh?"

Buffy's spine straightened with a snap, and she glared at him, biting back the impulse to comment.

"Yo, Rondell," Gunn called out from where he was working at the trigger guard on a crossbow with the help of a slightly younger black woman. "Girl's kind enough to show up to help - she don't need no attitude, hear?" He waved her and Pike over to his direction.

"Hey," the young woman smiled at Buffy as the two of them came over. "Don't mind Rondell."

"Oh, I won't," Buffy waved it off, tiredly. She looked at the other girl curiously, "I know you, I think?"

"You're Anne. We've seen each other when I came over to babysit Elena," the girl nodded. "I'm Alonna - Gunn's sister."

"Right," Buffy snapped her fingers, smiling. "Good to meet you, finally."

"Ok, so here's the deal," Gunn put in. He gave the crossbow a satisfied look and set it down. "We got a new gang of vamps moved into a nest nearby, and they're getting to be a problem. Like to clear them out before they get any bigger, you know?"

"Right," Pike said. "How many?"

"'Bout twenty, maybe more," Gunn admitted. "Why I was kinda happy to get some help."

"That's a lot. Where at?" Buffy asked, intrigued despite herself. "And you got a plan?"

"Warehouse about ten blocks from here, just outside an old factory." Gunn said. Picking up the crossbow and a quiver of bolts, he handed them to Alonna and picked up a wicked looking hubcap axe. He waved Pike and Buffy to follow him over to where a thin Hispanic youth was messing around in the back of an old flatbed truck. "This is most of it," he slapped the fender of the truck. "Hey, Arturo - say hello."

"Wow." Buffy looked it over as Arturo exchanged greetings an friendly insults with Pike. The truck was mostly rust and primer, but it looked solid as far she could tell, and it had a wedge shaped hunk of metal welded to the front bumper. It also had a large crossbow mounted on a pole in the bed. A light ballista, Buffy seemed to vaguely recall from one of Giles' books.

"Everyone loads up in the back of this and in my truck," Gunn explained, "Then this one crashes in the main door of the warehouse while we go to the other one and bail out and come in the back." He pointed to the ballista, adding, "Alonna loads while Arturo shoots and re-cocks the big bow, and the others with crossbows stay in and either shoot or throw Molotovs while the rest of us close hand to hand." Gunn grinned, "They can't run out because of the sunlight."

"Okayyy... " Buffy said, slowly, then nodded. "Sounds like you have been doing this for awhile."

"Yeah," Alonna said, nodding. "But this is a bigger nest than we usually have to deal with."

Gunn nodded, "There's about two dozen of us, plus you and Pike, but... "

"Vamps are stronger and faster, right," Buffy nodded. "I know the drill."

...

Thursday August 20, 1998; Chase Manor pool house, late afternoon.

Xander yawned, blinking and more than a bit disoriented. He pushed himself up with his elbows, and slid back until he could prop himself up half sitting against the pillows. Cordelia groaned and stirred in her sleep next o him and burrowed deeper into the mattress.

"Hey," Faith gave him a nod, propped up on one elbow on the other side of Cordelia.

"Hey yourself," Xander gave her a half-grin, a bit hesitant but there.

"Looks like it's our turn now, huh?" Faith said, seriously, and pushed a lock of hair out of Cordelia's eyes.

"To be the comfortadors et cetera?" She nodded and Xander grinned, "Yeah, guess so."

"Works," Faith said, her eyes serious.

"Sure. Except for the part of my brain that's running in circles screaming," Xander said. "But I never listen to that anyway."

"To your brain?"

Xander opened his mouth to object, then caught the teasing glint in her eyes and shrugged, "Yeah, well... it's usually my least functional part anyway."

Faith grinned.

"You were kinda scary last night," he ventured, then wished he hadn't because of the way her eyes darkened. "Not that that's a bad thing, because, hey - freaksome stuff you know and - "

"Babbling, Harris," Faith said, but the eyes were smiling again.

"Better?" Xander asked, curious despite himself. "How'd you come down, finally?"

"Working on a book?" Faith smirked, then shrugged slightly. "Dunno. Giles managed, somehow."

"He's good at that," Xander said. "I think it's the stiff English pole up his backside, and the way his eyes get all crinkly with worry while he's blathering multisylababble at you. All the while he's kinda hunched up like he'd rather be in Antarctica so no one will actually, like, catch him being all human-like."

Faith laughed, "Yeah. Like that."

Xander nodded grinning. "Yeah. Forces you to picture him being a dad, and then you want to shoot his poor kid to put him out of his misery."

Faith laughed again and said. "Goofball."

Cordelia stirred, then rolled over yawning. She stretched, winced, and blinked sleepily. "Is it morning all ready?"

"No... late afternoon. We were about to call the morgue and have you hauled off," Xander told her.

"Doofus." Cordelia yawned again, "We have an exclusive contract with a private mortuary."

"I think she's feeling better," Faith said, seriously.

"Yeah, she always bounces back from sudden death with New and Improved snark and a taste for the blood of the nearest innocent bystander," Xander smirked.

"Oh, please. Like either of you were ever innocent?"

"Hey! We decided to be all care takey, and this is what we get?" Xander laughed.

"You guys are on nursemaid duty? I am so doomed," Cordelia frowned slightly, "Willow? And Oz?"

"They're fine. Will was freaked more than anything else," Xander said. Faith nodded.

"Uh, it was late, so I, uh, told them to crash in the other room when Oz dropped us off," Faith said, her eyes a bit worried looking.

"Oh gods, I have to deal with Willow too? Can I just go back and let the monsters finish me off?"

"Uh," Xander frowned, and Cordelia shook her head.

"Joking, Harris. It's fine," she said. "Really," Cordelia added.

"I really do think she's feeling better," Faith said, seriously, and smirked. "You kinda freaked last night," she added, to Cordelia.

"I think I had one coming," Cordelia said archly, then smiled.

"Yeah, been due for awhile," Faith nodded, her eyes dark. "You don't have to be the strong one all the time, you know."

"Moi?" Cordelia said. "Hmm. You're not allowed to be perceptive. It upsets the natural order of things. I'm fashionably insightful, Harris is comedy relief, and you're the brazen, leather clad barbarian sexpot."

"Hey! I can be perceptive!" Xander's brow creased, "What's 'perceptive', anyway?" Faith shook her head and mouthed 'doofus' at him.

"Way too early for his routine," Cordelia rolled her eyes and pushed herself to a sitting position. She pointed to Faith, then to Xander. "Minion? Slay him for me."

Faith's lips twitched and she started getting up. Xander's eyes widened and he scrambled back off the bed. "Hey! I don't have to take this!" Faith stood and rolled her shoulders, cracking her knuckles. "Just for that, I'm going to the bathroom. To hide. And whimper while I hunt for what's left of my manliness."

Bathroom breaks and late-afternoon morning routines accomplished, they met at the table in the dining room over coffee and a plate of bagels, eggs, and English muffins, still yawning on occasion and relatively relaxed conversation. Breakfast and coffee was taken care of with a maximum of chaos and good natured grumbling. After the third time she caught Faith and Xander competing to do something for her and making a mess, Cordelia chased them back to their seats and got her own coffee.

"Mornin'" Oz shambled in, blinking, his (currently) bright orange hair still sleep tousled. He wandered past to grab coffee and a soda for Willow.

"Morning," Willow echoed. "Hey! Cordelia! How... ?"

"I'm fine, Willow," Cordelia said. "Doctor said that as long as it's kept clean and I keep up with the mega-antibiotics routine and the Panofil, there won't even be scarring."

"Good," Oz remarked, setting the drinks down and beginning to prepare plates for himself and Willow.

"Yup," Xander said. "Can't have Cordy scarring - it's so hard to find Gucci that matches."

"Good. That was scary, huh?" Willow's eyes widened, "And I haven't seen you do that since the Reptile thing or the -"

"What? Get all shrieking in the face of sudden death and screaming about my hair and wardrobe?"

"Well, yeah! Lately you've been all... collected and stuff."

"We decided she was due," Faith smirked. "Gave her that nervous breakdown she wanted for her birthday, only early."

"Breakdown broke, all better now," Cordelia smirked back. Her eyes glinted slightly, but they were twinkling down deep, "Don't worry, Will. Before you know it I'll be back to where I've been recently, complete with unwanted and incisive analysis of Willow traits."

Xander and Oz's eyes widened slightly, and Willow stammered, "Oh no! That's ok, I mean, I kind of like you like before, only not too before because well -"

"Relax, Red," Faith shook her head. She'd at least caught the twinkle, and the lighter tone. "She's joking. Really."

Willow looked at her, then back to Cordelia, frowning slightly.

"Really," Cordelia said.

"Ok," Willow huffed a bit. "It's just kinda hard to tell sometimes when you're joking, and when you're... you're... "

"Regressing to Junior High and Freshmen/Sophomore Cordelia? Fashion obsessed and ready to shred bystanders and scatter their remains to the Cordettes?" Cordelia, frowned slightly, then the thousand watt grin came out. "I suppose it is."

"Well, yeah!" Willow shook her head, then sighed. "I've been trying, Cordy. I really have. It's just... hard, you know?"

"Yeah, it is," Cordelia admitted. She saw Xander relax slightly next to her, and winked at him. "Think we've all been changing the last few months."

"Not me," Oz said, mildly. "Unless you count the three days thing."

"Doesn't count, Guitarzan," Faith smirked. "We all do for three days a month. 'Cept for Harris."

"Hey! I resent that!" Xander said, mock heatedly. "Oh wait - no I don't. I'm kind of glad for that, except for the urge to flee in terror from you and Cordy."

Willow, Faith, and Cordelia raised eyebrows and Cordelia pointed at Xander, "Slay him, please."

"Eeep!"

Willow snickered. "I am glad you're ok. And Faith."

"Yeah, you too," Faith nodded. "Ugly bastards," she said.

"Eeew, yeah." Cordelia paused, then said, "A year ago I wouldn't have been caught dead with Harris in public. Now I don't care. And last year, I wouldn't have given Faith the time of day, much less gotten to know her - I'd have considered her a trailer trash barbarian and verbally dismembered her."

"Glad I didn't meet you last year," Faith remarked. "I'd of had to find somewhere to hide the body."

"I probably would have helped," Willow admitted, snickering, and Cordelia arched her eyebrows, then broke out laughing.

"Maybe something's forcing us all to grow up?" Oz interjected.

"You think?" Xander's eyes widened. "I want to go on record as being totally against the idea. I am secure in my immaturity."

"We've noticed," Willow said, then giggled, getting a 'Hey!' and a smirk from Xander.

"Me too. I say we resist, kicking and screaming all the way," Faith said. At the other's looks, she added, "ToysRus kid. Or I wanted to be." She grinned.

"I agree," Cordelia nodded. "Since it means we're probably being groomed to deal with something Hellmouthy in May that will kill us all horribly trying to fight it."

"Oh. As long as it's just business as usual, that's okay then," Xander said.

"Should we all go meet Giles at the library and see if he's found anything in research?" Willow asked. There were faces made at that suggestion all around the table.

"I vote movies," Oz suggested. "And pizza."

"Library and research tomorrow," Xander agreed.