Author's Note: Sensitive readers be aware that Vi's scene is quite grim.
14.
The Devil You Know
I'm doomed.
Jonathan folded the seat forward to allow Faith and Amy to climb in. Once they were situated, he returned the seat to its upright position, pulled the keys from his pocket and got in the driver's seat. Grimly, he prepared. This was like facing a firing squad. Right next to him sat heaps of trouble and in his hand rested the key to his doom. The only manual transmission car I've ever driven is my mom's Civic. And this really isn't that.
He wished he had another reason to stall, but there was nothing left. He could fiddle with the mirrors some more. Maybe adjust his seat again. Instead, he slid the key into the ignition. Just depressing the clutch was a chore. He wanted to use both feet, but managed with only one, though he had to use the steering wheel for leverage. For all its crankiness, the instrument of his doom was all too eager to start when he turned the key.
It sat purring like some great, sleepy beast, waiting for him to make a wrong move. Okay, so…breathe. Now give it a little gas and slip the clutch out.
All the car did was rumble. It was a cool sounding rumble, but just a rumble.
Shit! Let's all sing the Doom Song now.
Or I could put the stupid car in gear and try again. I'm such an idiot.
When Jonathan did, the car lurched against the parking brake, moved about a foot and stalled. It amounted to a great, roaring, jerky nothing.
He glanced at his less-than-friendly passenger. Willow's face was twisted with what could only be pain. I'm finished. She's gonna turn me into a tadpole. Then she'll squish me 'cause of the threat my future frogness poses.
She took a deep breath. It was something he'd never seen a vampire do. As he wondered what effect breathing might have on the non-oxygen-dependent, she regained her composure. "Please, calm down," she said. "I'm not gonna bite. You moved the car before. I heard you do it. You were really good. Just do that again. Don't worry about me."
It left Jonathan bewildered that her version of 'less than friendly' was actually kinder than the people he called 'friends.' Faith had laughed when he stalled the car, adding insult to injury, while Willow sounded as though she actually had confidence in him. The heat in his face diffused, replaced by a warm grin.
Why's she being so nice?
Jonathan didn't give himself time to consider. Giles was already in his car. It sat idling, waiting on them. Jonathan started the engine and tried again. His launch wasn't perfect, but it was better. That didn't take much. The bar just wasn't that high. All he had to do was keep the car running. Even that wasn't easy. The difference between this thing and his mom's Honda was like the ancient IBM Selectric Giles had compared to his modern laptop keyboard. Everything about the car was so stiff and mechanical, it was a workout to drive.
As they motored past Giles, Willow said, "See, I knew you could do it. Now, make a left. Take it real slow, okay?"
Jonathan nodded. His attention was split so many ways, it was little more than an aloof gesture. He turned the corner as he listened to the girls whisper in the backseat. It was pretty obvious how Faith felt. That was never a mystery. She just kinda put it out there. But he was really curious what Amy thought. All he caught were snippets of the conversation. Though, he distinctly heard the word 'gold.' That was strange. He puzzled over how that could possibly fit.
"That's not true. Not in the strictest sense," Willow interjected seemingly out of the blue.
Faith and Amy stopped talking.
Jonathan snickered.
Amy mumbled, "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"I'm a vampire," Willow replied. It was a matter-of-fact reminder, not a threat. Something unseen caught her interest and she said, "Go right," pointing at the upcoming intersection. Once the turn was made, she continued, "A skillful witch can mask her aura. Look now."
"Huh. It's blue," Amy informed the car, like that meant something.
Dammit. I know these. I could just never see them, so…
Faith said, "Pointing out you can lie to us isn't exactly smart, Red." Typical Faith: all the tact of an eight-pound sledge and half the finesse.
Willow cast her attention over her left shoulder to Faith. The challenge was obvious. Yet her demeanor remained friendly. "No, but it's honest," she replied. When Faith failed to deliver a biting retort, Willow faced forward. A few moments later something caught her attention. "Stop," she said, turning to look out the passenger window.
As they came to a stop, Jonathan caught sight of Buffy. She emerged from between two houses. Her posture was stooped, but she quickly straightened up when she saw them. He put the parking brake on and unbuckled his seatbelt.
Willow rolled down her window as he opened his door. Leaning into the car, Buffy said, "If it's cool, I think I'm gonna ride with Giles." Jonathan froze. He couldn't believe his ears. It must've shown because Buffy offered, "Looks like you've got this under control."
After grappling with what she said for a second or two, Jonathan arrived at the only reasonable explanation. Wow! She must really be hurt. That's all it could be. She sounds okay, but—
Jonathan glanced in the driver's side mirror and very nearly laughed. Oh, he's gonna be thrilled. I wish I could eavesdrop. That'd just be too funny. His interest returned to their two uneasy allies. He couldn't see Willow's face, but it was plain that she was worried.
"I'll be fine. Just give me a few hours," Buffy replied to the unasked question. Jonathan wouldn't have believed it he if hadn't heard it himself. Her tone was actually consoling. He'd heard her be a lot of things over the years, but 'reassuring' wasn't on that list. 'Terrifying' was pretty typical. That did more than just about anything else could've to set him at ease. I was right.
"What happened?" Willow asked.
Buffy hung her head, peering at her hands as she replied, "There were two more. They nabbed the scythe. I never had a chance."
Oh jeez. I didn't even think of that. Faith had the scythe. I wondered what Buffy was up to. That's really bad, right?
Taking Buffy's hand, Willow whispered, "It's okay. We'll deal."
The car went silent. Jonathan cast a sidelong glance at the passenger side, averting his eyes when he realized the two women were kissing. Uh, umm…now what?
Uh…
Torn between trying to shrink into the background and wanting to watch, he stared at the center of the steering wheel. He had no idea why Buffy had chosen this car, but the symbolism was pretty perfect. I just wish they didn't make me so nervous.
Curiosity won out, but he didn't dare stare. Instead, he played with the rearview. I wonder if they're really in love. Wouldn't that be weird?
For these two, it'd be more like a miracle.
When he saw the empty seat, it struck him exactly how foolish he was being. They're vampires, you doofus.
Jonathan quickly repositioned the mirror and dropped his hand in his lap as Buffy spoke. "We're headed to the Hampton, just off the interstate, 'kay?"
He turned to reply. Both vamps were grinning at him. It was all he could do to nod.
Buffy approached the car. When she tapped on the glass, Giles rolled it down. "Mind if I catch a ride with you?" she asked.
Mildly taken aback, Giles replied, "No, not at all," mostly because it was the courteous thing to say. He found the notion of spending time with her intriguing, mind numbing and horrifying, all in equal measures. I doubt it will be long. That's perhaps the only saving grace to this arrangement. We stand little chance of being much more than passing allies.
Once she'd rounded the car and was seated with her safety belt secured, he resumed pursuit of the red Trans Am. At least with Jonathan driving, this was possible.
Mucking with the levers, Buffy found the correct one to recline her seat. Giles wasn't thrilled, but he held his peace.
They travelled together in silence for a time. It seemed the others were faring well. He watched Amy gesture animatedly in the backseat of the lead car.
Jonathan appeared to have a destination in mind. They'd left the residential neighborhoods and were proceeding toward the city limits. Giles presumed from her demeanor that Buffy had been injured. Nonetheless he was interested to know what she had planned. Careful to keep his tone moderate, he asked, "Would you mind my asking where we're going?"
She turned her head to face him and said, "The Hampton." The ruse was past. Pain was apparent in her voice. She had indeed been badly injured.
"Ah, very good," he replied.
"Hold up before you get carried away," Buffy said. Pausing, she groaned and flattened her body against the seat. It took her several moments to settle in. Finally, she explained, "I have a room there. That's why I'm going. It's an option, but you need to understand."
"What could there possibly be to understand? We are in need of lodging and we're going to a hotel. The matter seems fairly straightforward to me," he responded, doing everything within his power to wring the amusement from his tone. I certainly don't want it to seem that I am making light of her condition. It's quite obvious that she was wounded assisting us. I should ask, but I truly don't believe there's anything we could do for her. She should heal quite quickly without our meddling.
"Not so much," Buffy muttered. Giles was wondering exactly what sort of answer that might have been when she picked up her thought. "You might've noticed that I don't do failure well. I'll pretty much do whatever it takes to get the job done." Her chest gurgled as she took another feeble breath in order to continue.
Indeed. I might've noticed that. In past she was willing to sacrifice anything in order to accomplish her objective. It's virtually impossible to vanquish such a foe.
"Job One right now is keeping Faith alive," she stated plainly.
"Why?" Giles interjected. "That seems a paradoxical goal for you." Glancing at his passenger, he cursed himself for being so blunt. Her expression had darkened. Good show. To say that lacked diplomacy is a woeful understatement. Actually, that was quite like something Faith might say. I'm not sure what got into me.
Though it was still weak, Buffy's tone held an edge. "I don't know if you've got this figured or not. You'd have to be pretty dense not to. I never took you for dense, Rupert, but I've been wrong before."
Giles had plenty of opportunity to weigh in. He could've easily spoken in his own defense. Instead, he allowed her the breath and the barb, feeling he'd quite earned it.
"I could've eliminated your pathetic little band of misfits years ago," she said.
It was a matter-of-fact statement that Giles very much wanted to argue. He couldn't. In point of fact, she has passed up many opportunities to end each of our lives. I often wondered what advantage she might've seen in allowing us to live. It's certainly not typical of her kind.
As they left town, the red car picked up speed. Giles shifted down and pressed the accelerator in an effort to keep pace. "Yes, I've been curious about that for a great many years," he remarked as he found the next gear. The lead car slowed, allowing them to keep pace.
"It's pretty simple," she replied. "The devil you know." She fell silent, stopping to massage her ribs. The effort made her grimace. "But that's not what this is about. We don't have long, so here's the bottom line, Giles. If you stay at some hotel, anyone can walk in your door at any time. Each night's a—" She fell victim to a coughing fit.
The sound alarmed him. Giles cast a concerned glance at his passenger. She found purchase, suppressing the cough, and mopped a trickle of blood from her chin. We're she human, she wouldn't last the night.
Buffy cleared her throat and found her voice, all while wincing. "If you stay with me, I can protect you." She lingered to take a raspy breath. "Now I know how that sounds." A wheezing laugh escaped her. It wasn't the sort sound that made one think happy thoughts, but he believed it was meant in good humor. The laughter choked away. It took her a moment to regain her composure. Giles stole a glance. Despite her condition, she appeared quite cheerful. "This pretty much pegs the cliché meter. The tweed wearing British librarian spends the night in the vamp's castle. That just never ends well."
Giles smiled. "Too right," he replied with a chuckle.
"I need you behind me for this to work. Faith's not gonna like it," she concluded.
Though his training told him that, were he to say 'yes,' it would be the most foolish decision he had ever made, he couldn't fault her logic and there was no immediate reason to doubt her integrity. "Allow me to ask you something before I make my decision." When he offered her a brief moment of his attention, she nodded and he went on. "What do you intend to do about the debacle you've created?" That was too accusatory for my taste. Nevertheless, we haven't minced words up to this point and I see no reason to start.
"Kill them," she responded.
The statement, though barely a whisper, was sharp and direct. It concerned Giles. He went on. "And if you were offered an alternative…?"
Buffy turned to peer out her window. They were approaching the hotel. "If it was even close to workable, I'd jump all over it. I just don't have a choice. That's the point," she mumbled.
Though his decision was already made, Giles paused as though considering her response. He waited until they had nearly reached the driveway before rendering his verdict, "Very well. You have my support in this matter. Be assured that I will do everything in my power to find an alternative solution."
"Thanks," Buffy whispered.
Amy and Faith were chattering quietly in the backseat. Willow supposed it was good that Amy had made some small amount of headway with the slayer, but she wasn't sure she cared that much. There were other things that mattered more. She stared out her window at the prefab, poured-concrete, characterless monstrosity that passed for a hotel. She wasn't looking forward to having to deal with any of this. What she really wanted most was to hold Buffy, but at the moment that wasn't possible.
Y'know, I get that I'm being kinda silly. I mean, yeah, Buffy was hurt, but it's not like she's gonna die. Her injuries aren't permanent. Actually, what she said about 'a couple hours' is probably right, but—
I dunno. I guess it's just—I know how much that has to hurt.
Well, maybe I don't. I don't remember much. I felt a sharp pain, then I felt woozy. A few seconds that seemed like ages later, I felt nothing. But she does and I can't stand to see her like that.
No one else seems to care. That just doesn't seem right. It seems like they should. She was injured trying to help them after all.
They pulled into the hotel drive and parked across from the entrance. "I'll be back in a few," Willow said. She opened the door, careful to not let the travel mugs she'd stashed between it and the seat tumble out onto the asphalt. Really, I think I'm being a little hard on them. Look at what just happened. That was our fault. We caused it. She sniffed. The blood still smelled good. She felt silly for checking. It hadn't been an hour since they'd arrived at Giles' apartment. She'd probably just made her face go all crinkly and 'grr' over nothing. She couldn't tell. Having to check that too made her feel foolish. The fight itself only lasted about five minutes tops. Maybe. It all happened so quickly it's hard to say. I'm sure it felt like hours to Buffy.
It took a moment or two for Willow to find her legs again. The process was a cringe-worthy, tummy curdling, nail biting load of prickly pins and needles. A little too soon, but not nearly soon enough, she was shuffling past Giles, half afraid she'd snag a heel and bust her butt in the parking lot. At least that took her mind off of everything else.
As she approached Giles' car, Buffy tried to get out. All Willow needed was the room key. It seemed like such a trivial thing to bother Buffy with, but it gave Willow an excuse to check up on her. "No, sweetie," Willow said. "Let me handle it. I just need the key." I really don't get her.
Buffy still looked intent on getting up. She sat cockeyed in the seat with her feet outside the car. "You sure?" she asked, looking up to meet Willow's eyes.
"Yeah, yeah…I'm pretty sure," Willow replied. The rattle in her chest hasn't gotten any better. Actually, it might be worse.
Thankfully, Buffy didn't argue. She scooted around to sit forward in the car and removed the card from her back pocket. The arduous process involved her turning onto her hip and working to fish it out with an arm that was probably broken.
Willow couldn't have felt more useless. She wanted desperately to help, but there was nothing she could do, so she busied herself by combining the contents of the two cups. It doesn't really matter what I want anyway. She wouldn't deal well with me fawning over her. Not here. Not now. Concealing her distress when Buffy handed the card off, Willow said, "Just rest. I've got this." She placed the lid on Buffy's mug and handed it to her. "Here, this might help."
Buffy settled back in her seat. There was a quirky little grin on her face. It confused Willow to no end, but she didn't ask. How's she smiling? After all that, you'd think—
Y'know what? Never mind. It doesn't have to make sense.
"I won't be long," Willow said as she shut Buffy's door. Darn it. I need my purse. She went back to their car to get it. This trip across the parking lot wasn't as worrisome as the last. Sensation had returned to her legs. "Giles, could you mind handing me my purse?"
"No, certainly," Giles replied and leaned in the car. He extracted himself from the window and turned to pass the purse off.
Willow accepted it and said with a smile, "Thanks. This won't take long." She hung her purse over her shoulder as she strode toward the entrance. I'm not sure why she chose to do this now. I guess it's that it gives them an opportunity to bail. I know that's not what she wants. She'll want to keep Faith close. So, I s'pose worst case, we'll end up staying here.
She was almost to the door when Jonathan called out, "Wait up."
Surprised to hear his voice, Willow stopped. She glimpsed Faith striding away from the cars with Giles at her side as she turned around. Noting them, but not really concerned or surprised, her attention fixed on Jonathan. He was holding the seat and the seatbelt out the way for Amy. She climbed from the car and moved to join Willow.
Offering a friendly smile, Amy said, "I think that's gonna be one of those watcher/slayer kind of talks. We'd just be in the way." She rolled her eyes. "Mind if we join you?"
Willow replied, "Uh, yeah…sure." This wasn't what she expected at all. "Er, umm…I mean, no, I don't mind."
Jonathan went ahead of them to get the door. Willow followed him with Amy in tow. Together they passed through into the lobby. The desk clerk looked up. When Willow made for the elevator, he went back to the magazine he was reading. She took a quick detour en route to pitch her mug in a trash can next to the breakfast buffet table. In the process she somehow lost Jonathan. It was kind of funny. She wondered how she could possibly lose track of a noisy, smelly human as she held the button to keep the doors open. When he reappeared, he was pulling a luggage cart. Huh. More than a little intuitive. Not to mention helpful. But we are in a hotel, presumably going to a room, so I guess it does make sense.
Their willingness to help clarified their stance beyond a doubt. In spite of everything, a warm smile brightened Willow's face. She retraced her steps to the room with the others keeping pace behind her. It's still kind of weird having them with me. Not quite an intrusion, but—
When she entered the room, the first thing that caught her eye was the roses. A few petals had fallen, but they had opened up and were just lovely. She went to the dresser and leaned in to smell them.
The luggage cart clattered across the threshold. A moment later, Willow felt Jonathan behind her. He whispered, "You really love her, don't you?" It was a careful sound, like he wanted the question to be private despite Amy's presence. Amy seemed to respect that. Hangers clattered as she emptied dresses from the closet, paying them no mind.
Willow turned to find him wearing a soft sentimental smile. She returned the gesture. "Yes." Unsure why she felt so weepy, shut her eyes to stave off tears that seemed determined to come. Is it really that obvious? How much could he have possibly seen? The answer she arrived at was 'not much.' They'd brushed shoulders in the hospital. It must be. Other than tonight that was it. The pressure behind her eyes was threatening to turn headachy. She took a breath and slowly let it go.
Jonathan was loading some shopping bags onto the cart when Willow opened her eyes. She slipped past Amy, who'd come to collect the remaining packages from around the dresser, crossed the room and took the cooler from the closet. Packing it with the contents of the fridge was a little disconcerting, but no one said anything.
Really, it was pretty much the opposite. Jonathan took the cooler from her when she finished, loaded it on the cart and stacked stuff around it to hide the Red Cross symbols. I guess he thinks that stealing blood is better than the alternatives. And strangely enough, I'd have to agree with him now.
Willow returned to the dresser to collect her flowers. Though she couldn't recall either of them having put anything in the dresser, she had to open a few drawers just to be sure. She took one last quick look around the room. Jonathan and Amy were waiting for her in the hallway when she finished. Willow met each of their gazes and said, "Thank you," as she pulled the door to. Buffy would probably laugh and say they make good minions. I'm not so sure.
Holding the scythe did nothing to calm Vi's nerves. It was supposed to be this amazing source of power for the slayer. We were warned to separate her from it. Not that it mattered. The slayer was a complete joke. She found it funny that the scythe did absolutely nothing except make her want to run that much faster. The sooner she was rid of the accursed thing, the happier she'd be.
"Four of us in three days," Rona said. "She's picking us off like flies." Her voice trembled with her footfalls and the puff of her breath.
The mood must be catching.
Huh. What's to catch? We're fucked.
The sounds of crunching leaves gave their position away. Vi tried to stick to bare ground as she weaved through the trees. It wasn't easy. There wasn't much. "Yeah, Shane was our best fighter," she whispered. "And Heather had some training. Eve and Chloe weren't all that surprising. Eve being chosen to do more than get coffee was the real shock." A dry creek bed cut a jagged line through the valley floor. Vi leapt it and scrambled to higher ground where the layer of fallen leaves wasn't quite so thick. "You ask me, this is pretty much suicide."
"I doubt we'd make it far," Rona replied as she kept pace. "That is if we—"
"We could give it a shot," Vi whispered. "Anything has to be better than waiting for the inevitable." The words had barely crossed her lips when she heard the leaves rustle over the hill to their right.
Moments later a melodious female voice put an end to any debate, "They're just over this next rise."
That definitely wasn't an animal.
Vi changed direction midstride and scrambled up the hill. She was so determined to get away that she ignored one small, yet significant detail. On the other side of the hill fire had ravaged the forest. The few blackened trees that still stood were matted with creeping vines. Heavily eroded ground lush with dense, tangled growth swept sharply down. She didn't make it more than five yards before her footing gave way, sending her tumbling into a deep gully filled with brambles.
A deep male voice boomed from the neighboring valley, "I thought you said that they'd be here."
Stickers snagged Vi's clothes and skin as she rolled onto her belly.
"Patience," the woman hissed.
Vi tried to clamber to her feet. Briars caught her leg. She lost her balance and toppled forward. When she broke her fall, thorns punctured the palms of her hands. She ripped her leg free and flipped over. What she saw sent a wave of panic surging through her. Branches entwined, writhing and waving like the tentacles of a great, reedy octopus. She blinked. As she tried to scramble away, they curled in, coiling around her from all sides. The more she fought, the worse it got. There were so many she wasn't sure where they were coming from. Her arms were stretched above her head. Her legs were caught. She felt her body leave the ground. As she jerked free, a thick, twisted cluster of canes coiled around her throat.
"Like I told you, these little twats are fast and strong, but they aren't very smart." The woman's voice was light with laughter.
She was close, probably at the top of the gully. Vi wanted to look up, but couldn't. After snaring her arm, the brambles had encircled her head. Thorns pierced her upper lip and cheeks. But thorns pretty much pierced her everything. Resisting was only making her bleed.
"You said that you'd be interested in one with dark skin?" The woman's question was punctuated by shrill, panicked screeches.
Wait. What did she mean? That didn't make any sense. And Rona's incessant screaming wasn't helping. She was to Vi's right and closing in.
Rona's screams were choked off. She gagged and burbled as she drifted above Vi's head, dangling by one leg. Her body swung wildly as she thrashed.
"She might do," the man replied. "But I'll be seeing her cunt before I say any more." His voice was throaty, but he slurred his 's's. The speech impediment made him sound like some gigantic cartoon snake.
Ashes rained down, obscuring Vi's view. When they cleared, Rona was nowhere to be seen.
"This bitch has been spoiled," the man said. "I'll give you three and not a penny more."
"You'll give me five," the woman replied coolly.
The man exclaimed, "You dare?"
"I dare," the woman countered. "Don't test my patience. I'm paying you a great honor by allowing you first choice. You'll give me five or I'll send you and your entire clan back to the pit you crawled out of."
They're haggling. But over what? Over us? For what? How can they expect—?
A fat gray rat sat on Vi's chest sniffing at her chin. How long it'd been there she couldn't say, but noticing it changed everything. Thorns tore at her lip and cheeks as she screamed. She didn't care that Rona drifted naked and limp back into her line of sight. Her eyes fixed on the black tuft of hair that blotted out the stars. The man and woman bickered as she fought with all of her might to escape. What they said was meaningless too. The rat was gone and that was all that mattered.
Vi's bonds tightened, strangling her screams. Her chest compressed. Thorns tore at her breasts. Her legs splayed open. Chill night air met her skin. Somehow she was naked. Her arms stretched tight. A blood drop splashed her face. Briars ripped into the tender flesh of her gut. The rat was back and it'd brought friends. She counted, four, five as they scurried over her face. But she couldn't count. Sharp little claws pricked her skin head to toe. The parts of her body that didn't burn with pain were awash with motion.
Blood rained down on her from above. It splashed her eyes, blurring her vision. Blinking it away was useless. The blood stirred the frenzy. Rats swarmed over her face, screeching, writhing and chattering. Nails scraped. Tongues lapped. Teeth bit in.
When the rats squealed and scampered away, Vi's eyes sprung open. A flaming, v-shaped object fell toward her face. Her eyes snapped shut. Hot and solid, a mass hit her nose and broke apart. Ashes coated her skin.
The man said, "I'll give you eight for the pair. My nephew's name day is fast approaching. Scrawny little slut will make an adequate gift. Lords of Alzhar know why, but he has a taste for willowy creatures such as this."
"Make it nine and your house will owe me a debt," the woman countered.
"Very well, name it and it shall be done," the man agreed.
The rats returned as their bargaining ended. One sat on the brambles that bound Vi's breasts. As it cautiously tested the air, the woman asked, "Should I take her arms too?"
"Yes," the man said, "and her legs. My nephew won't care whether the skank can kneel or not. He's at that age, y'know. All he really wants is a wet furrow in which to plant his seed."
The woman put in, "And her teeth?"
"Fuse her jaw and take her teeth. Both sets. Wouldn't want the lad to be injured. But leave her voice intact. He'll love the way she screams."
None of this made sense to Vi. They couldn't possibly be talking about her. She was to be a feast for rats. The ashes kept them from her face, but they gnawed at her flesh lower down. Being slowly eaten alive terrified her, but even that seemed better than living forever crippled and enslaved by a petulant boy. She had to believe that they would leave her to the rats. Her eyes burned as she fought to look up. She needed to see their faces, so she'd have something to hate.
"You've made a wise decision," the woman said in a honeyed voice. "When word of this reaches the street, you'll be the envy of the preternatural world. Common vampires will become passé. Dominating vicious, cunning creatures such as these will command respect."
Starting from a dead sleep, Buffy bolted upright in her seat. Her side ached. She clutched it and looked around.
Both cars were slowing. The bright, pulsing red glow of the Trans Am's brake lights and turn signal made her squint. It hadn't been that long. She remembered being at the hotel. Now they were making the turn into her driveway. Guess it was time to check out.
"Welcome back," Giles said. There was a knowing grin on the Watcher's face.
"Yeah, thanks," Buffy replied as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It didn't hurt quite so much to talk. That much was good.
The gates swung open. They rode up the driveway together in silence. In her car there was an active, animated discussion going on. She found herself wondering what it was about. One thing was certain: she was pleased to see that Faith was still with them. I expected her to skip out at the hotel.
As they approached the fork in the driveway, Buffy said, "Hold up." Giles stopped the car. The Trans Am continued on ahead.
Buffy opened the door and got out, leaning back in the car to say, "If you follow this to the right, it goes behind the house. Park in front of the garage and wait. I'll get the door for you in a few."
When Giles nodded, Buffy shut the car door and started up the driveway on foot. There was a small garden in the center of the circular drive, with flowers, some rocks and a few oleander shrubs. She stooped down, using the foliage to conceal her presence, so she could listen in. There's a chance they'll sense me, but I just gotta. Something tells me this is gonna be good.
From inside the car, Amy voice rang, "It means she was trying to help, Faith." She strained to get out of the car, but the exertion didn't slow her mouth down one bit. "I don't see why it's so hard for you to get that through your thick head."
Yeah…like I said, 'good.' Looks like Daphne and Velma are having a lovers' tiff. Whatever could that be about?
Faith rested her forearms on the car's roof and grumbled, "But she said she could change it."
Willow spoke up. "I did. But the changes can only be slight and they have to reflect some truth. I can't augment something that's not already there."
There was genuineness to her statement that caused Buffy pause. Y'know, it's kinda strange, there's this thing about her. I didn't put my finger on until now. She was bad for so long I'd forgotten how completely unassuming she is. It's never a mystery how she feels. She doesn't try to hide much, and when she does it's always funny. I think that's one of the things that first drew me to her. When she was bad, that became something else. It turned into a mockery of innocence. But the mockery's gone now. I'm glad some part of that—
"Look, we've discussed this to death," Faith growled, interrupting Buffy's train of thought.
I'm glad something good survived.
Staring Amy down across the roof of the car, Faith seethed, "I'm sick of this. I still don't see what difference it makes. It's like you said, Amy, soul or soulless just doesn't mean much." Miss Grumpy Pants raked her hair out of her eyes. "What happened to that?"
Buffy couldn't see Amy's expression, but she guessed it to be pretty grim based on the show Faith was putting on. It surprised her a little when Amy replied, "Willow convinced me." Her statement was succinct and totally levelheaded.
Which didn't affect Faith at all. "How?" she grumbled.
"By trusting me," Amy replied. This was news to Buffy. She listened with interest as Amy went on, "Willow can't manipulate fire at all."
When Faith gave her a sidelong glance, Willow shrugged as if to say, 'she's right.'
"She trusted me enough to help. You know me. I couldn't do something like that by myself. She put her fate and Buffy's in my hands."
That was pretty much all Buffy needed to hear. Mystery solved.
Willow picked up the previous thought. "I'll grant you that it's an imprecise science." As her witch spoke, Buffy strode around the driveway. "There are an awful lot of wannabes out there that claim to see auras as a scam. It doesn't help with the credibility. I get that." Buffy stopped at Willow's side and put an arm around her. Willow returned the gesture. "But you have to see that there are certain things that people just can't fake. This is pretty much one of them." When Willow finished her statement, she turned her head, giving Buffy the sweetest smile.
Buffy had managed to draw the interest of the entire gang. She didn't care. They can look all they want. It makes no difference to me. Willow's caress was lots more appealing. Buffy focused on it, what she could feel of it. There were too many layers of leather and scar tissue for her to feel much. I wonder if Jonathan likes dogs. I should get him a Great Dane for his birthday. It'd totally complete the image.
"The first time I saw it…" Amy said as she studied them. Her attention returned to Faith. "…it was almost the color it is now: a dark reddish-brown, like dried blood. Not a good sign." She smiled. "I mean, seeing it at all was a good sign, but the intent? It sorta means she was thinking about murder. Big surprise. But it was patchy and flecked with the same brown it is now, so…some hope."
Buffy asked, "When?" trying to imagine when Amy had gotten a chance.
"At the hospital," Amy replied.
"Murder," Buffy said with a laugh. "Yeah, I was pissed. Between the vamp and that stupid nurse, it was a miracle no one died."
Faith had calmed some. She asked, "Brown?"
Buffy was kind of wondering the same thing.
"Depending on the hue," Willow explained, "it means she was overloaded…really stressed."
Amy nodded. "That's how I took it."
Buffy snickered. "Yeah, 'stressed' pretty much covers it," she mumbled and went to unlock the door. "Bitch was trying to kill my slayer." We've made Giles wait long enough. There's no reason we can't take this inside.
"Your slayer?" Faith snapped. She seized Buffy's shoulder and demanded, "What the fuck?"
Shit! I didn't even feel her move. I should really learn to watch myself…and my mouth.
Oh well. Milk's spilled. I'm not crying. Let's see if we can avoid the blood.
Buffy left the keys hanging in the lock and turned out of Faith's grasp. Faith tried to counter, but Buffy snagged her wrists. "You heard me," Buffy hissed. "You're alive because I let you live."
She had to give Faith credit for not looking away. The slayer even gave up actual struggling in favor of struggling to regain her cool. That had to hurt. When she calmed down, Buffy let go.
"Why?" Faith asked.
"Like I told your Watcher, 'the devil you know'," Buffy replied, stepping back to lean against the door. "You always did have sort of a dark side, Faith. I just figured your replacement wouldn't be half as entertaining."
Willow walked right into the feud. "We gonna stand out here all night, or—?" Buffy got that she was done when her witch went on. "I mean, this pissing contest is intriguing, but really—"