Faith had forgotten what she'd once mockingly entitled the "Buffy Effect." When Buffy had been revamping the Council, every time she'd set a sandal-clad foot in any House or HQ, people flocked to her in droves.
"Slayer Lehane, we need your signature on these requisition forms. We've had to replace all of the hardwood in the Great Hall." A Watcher Faith didn't recognize shoved a clipboard piled with forms (and a pen on a string) into her hands.
Before she could do more than flip through the top two sheets, one of the Boston Seniors moved into her personal space. "You're supposed the be the Senior Slayer here. Where the fuck have you been? I'm tired of dealing with the fucking local cops! It's your job to make sure they don't get in our way while we hunt the Legion down."
A piece of the clipboard broke off. Faith very carefully handed it back to the Watcher. "I need to find rooms for my friends from Camden and check on my Domme. Put a meeting on my calendar. I promise I'll be there."
"Ah, I'll handle that, Faith." She'd forgotten all about Ailsa. The other woman slipped passed Faith. "I'm the new [[title]], Ailsa [[name]]. Let's leave the Slayers to take care of the other business, shall we?"
Faith watched them head toward the administrative offices before grabbing the other Slayer by the shirt collar and lifting her onto her toes. "You've got exactly one second to stop whining and get a crew together. Clean out the rooms next time mine. These kids've been through a Hellmouth and back." The girl nearly tumbled onto her ass as Faith released her with a Slayer-strength shove.
"Sam, take the kids to my place and get 'em settled in. Use anything you need, including the master bedroom." Faith glanced at the Senior, who she thought might need another lesson in who was in charge. "Slayer…" Buffy would have already memorized the Senior's name; Faith had no clue.
"Bruce," the girl muttered. Then she rolled her eyes and tried again. "Senior Slayer Rayna Bruce."
Fantastic. Maybe Faith could avoid having to put on an ass kicking demonstration for another few minutes. "Senior Bruce will let you know when we can get the kids into their own place. I need to check in with T. Last time I tried the bond, the crazy witch nearly singed my eyebrows. Somethings got her all twisted up."
There was a reason Sam had become her unofficial second in command. Despite having followed Faith through the portal to Camden, Sam had one of the Camden minis tucked against her leg. She held the hand of the baby witch who'd shielded the survivors. The rest of the minis clustered around her trustingly. "On it, boss."
Rayna hadn't left.
"What else?" Faith wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep from screaming. She was so fucking close to Tara yet unable to avoid dealing with stupid shit.
"Your Lady's been working on the video that leaked," Rayna answered. "One of the Watchers escorted a witch down to her room a few minutes ago." The kid, Faith estimated she couldn't be more than fifteen, grimaced. "He's not one of the Council witches." The flow of words stopped and didn't restart.
"Got a lot of those running around the Houses and HQs right now."
"Not like this one." Urgency built at Rayna's response. Rayna threw her hands up and shrugged. "My Watcher would give me an 'F' for my observational skills and lack of 'proper reporting and details.' But that guy gives me the creeps."
Faith trusted Slayer instincts over any formal report. "Forget the rooms. You're with me." She almost called for more reinforcements as she sprinted for the stairs to the Medical Wing, but they couldn't risk losing more of the already decimated Boston team.
They pounded down two flights of stairs. Faith didn't remember even using most of the individual steps. She hurtled most of them, slamming into the door at the bottom landing. It flew open.
People wearing scrubs in more colors than a bag of Skittles stared at Faith and Rayna in shock. "Where is she?"
Rayna didn't answer. She merely took the lead, Faith no more than a step behind. Faith hadn't needed a tour guide, though. She felt Tara through the bond. A wave of electric tingles skittering along her nerves.
She and Rayna crashed into the room like they were breaching a crypt full of vampires.
They succeeded in scaring the creepy witch. He jumped from his chair with a squeal. Faith glowered at him, the dagger she always carried in her boot our and poised for action.
Tara grabbed the little girl sitting next to her in the hospital bed tighter against her. Her eyes were wide with shock – and sunken into cheeks bruised by exhaustion.
The only one in the room not bothered by the abrupt interruption was the little. She grinned at waved. "Ray!"
Rayna blushed and waved sheepishly back. "'sup, Evie!"
Evie wiggled from Tara's grasp, jumped off the bed, and ran to Ray. She wrapped around the older girl's legs like a vine. "I'm helping, Miss Tara."
The Council was about to crumble if Tara couldn't get anyone other than Evie for an assistant. Faith stepped closer to the bed. She couldn't reach Tara through the bond. It was still dark and kind of wobbly from the headache and the drugs. Faith didn't care.
She was with Tara. She was home.
She wanted to kick everyone out of the room yesterday.
Unfortunately, Faith still had to deal with the little weasel standing with his hands up between her and Tara. "You done with the interview, T?" Faith narrowed her eyes at the guy to size him up. Hunched shoulders. Watery eyes like he had constant allergies. Not a single muscle anywhere.
Tara's gaze locked onto Faith. Her girl looked ready for battle. Dagger drawn and body balanced for quick action. Had she already noted Isaiah's aura? It pulsed oddly, and Tara was certain he was hiding something.
However, she did not have a future as an interrogator. He'd avoided answering her questions or spoken in confusing circles.
"T?" Faith asked.
"Uh…" Fate, she was tired. Tara tried to remember what Faith (Faith was back!) had asked.
Even with the bond shuttered for the moment, Faith seemed to have no trouble sensing Tara's confusion and weariness. "Everybody out. Bruce, you and your girl check in with Sam and the Camden minis. They're gonna need more than just a place to sleep."
"Sure." Reyna grinned slightly. "I mean, 'on it, boss.'"
Faith's scowl was so familiar and welcome that Tara sighed. "Think you're funny, don't you?"
"Absolutely." Rayna nodded respectfully to Tara. "If you need Evie, just call the Duty Desk, ma'am. Mr. Spilfort, we'll escort you back to the Main Hall." She glanced at Faith for a long moment, and Tara wondered what Secret Slayer information was being passed. "Want to stop by the cafeteria after we get Mr. Spilfort back to his room, Ev? I'm starving."
The little girl's giggle trailed behind the trio as they left the room.
Once the sound faded, though, Tara stared at Faith. Her mind scrambled to catch up with her heart, which beat a happy cadence. "Faith," she breathed unsteadily. The pain in her head and the frustration of the last several days faded. "Come here, my Slayer."
It was the right thing to say. Faith's scowl melted into a tired, hesitant expression. An expression straight from their first days together in Sunnydale.
Faith's need straightened Tara's spine as she held out a hand. "Did I stutter? I want you in this bed." She didn't quite hit the right Lady Tara frost with the command, but Faith reacted to it anyway.
"Yes, Tara." The steady beep of Tara's heart monitor ramped up as Faith obediently crowded the edge of the bed and took Tara's hand.
Tara immediately linked their fingers, a soft, contented sigh slipping free. "Why don't you climb in with me, my Faith?" The hospital staff could kiss her witchy ass if they objected to Tara cuddling her girl. "I want to hold you." And be held. Tara ached to feel Faith curled against her.
A little of Faith's usual brashness peeked out. "Breaking the rules, Lady Tara?" She carefully pulled back the thin hospital blankets and settled against the flat pillows. Tara basked in the warmth she exuded.
"I'm the Senior Witch in the Region. I make rules."
"You…you did not just say that." Faith pressed her face against Tara's shoulder and laughed.
"I remember the days when you were afraid of me," Tara lamented. "What happened?" She enjoyed the way Faith's dimples shone when she leaned back and the way the shadows in her eyes had lessened.
A yawn cut through the mood, and Faith's response was garbled. "Guess you been losing Domme points again, T. Gonna have to," another yawn, this one so wide Tara could have counted all of Faith's teeth, "practice more now I'm home."
"I don't think the Watcher on Duty was taking away my 'points,'" Tara murmured without any real volume. Faith was nearly asleep against her, and the feel of her girl relaxed Tara into a hazy, semi-conscious state of her own. "I love you, Faith. I missed you."
She woke an hour or a week later to someone urgently tugging on her arm. "Miss Tara? Miss Tara!"
"What?" Well used to the rigors of Council life, Tara sat upright and focused on Mouse…Evie. Unfortunately for them both, the hospital staff and their constant rounds of medication meant that Tara's mind didn't wake at the same speed as her body.
Tara stared blankly at the little girl as she babbled a response to Tara's question. Two bright green eyes rolled at her lack of comprehension. "Miss Tara, you gotta wake up. Ray says we gots trouble with the creepy man."
The creepy man? Isaiah! "Faith!" Tara poked Faith in the side before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The world dipped and swayed and turned into a blizzard of black and gray dots. Every piece of equipment in the room blared an alarm as Tara ripped off the sticky tabs on her chest and carefully removed the IV needle in her arm.
"What the fuck, T?" Faith always slept like the dead, but the wailing and beeping machines did what Tara's pokes had not. "Get back in…"
"We've got trouble. Ray sent Mouse to get us."
"This doesn't make you just a little uneasy?" Cat asked as she eyed the skeeziest diner she'd ever seen. The windows were so filthy she couldn't see inside, and the Health Inspection sign on the door was torn so that the grade was missing.
Jane laughed. "If we were marching into the Courthouse to the official Marshall office, I'd know we were being had. This? We're gonna get real intel from this meet and greet. If you want to put on gloves and booties, I ain't waiting." In fact, she was already striding away, leaving Cat to trot to catch up.
Cat scowled as Jane shouldered open the door. "I'll tell Tara it's your fault I contracted ptomaine poisoning."
"You sound like Maura. Just call it food poisoning," Jane shot back. "Besides, I've seen way worse places than this."
But had she eaten in them? Cat shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to avoid touching anything as they wove between tiny, food-laden tables and the swarm of people in the main seating area. Poor hygiene and over the maximum occupancy.
Her stomach didn't agree with sensibilities, though. It grumbled and growled at the sight and smell of the variety of dishes. By the time Jane slid into a booth bounded by the kitchen on one side and a wall on another, Cat had decided ordering lunch outweighed concerns of a possible trip to the emergency room.
"Jane Rizzoli. My partner Cat McClearen." Despite their relative isolation, Jane's spoke softly. "Thanks for meeting us." She glanced around the restaurant. "Guess we're not getting the 'official' version of events?"
The other woman hadn't introduced herself. Cat wondered if she was Marshal Schneider or if they were being set up. The slightly bitter laugh that Jane's comment earned had Cat leaning toward believing they were meeting the right person. "Stella makes the best cold meatloaf sandwich I've eaten, but I don't normally bring anyone here on the first date."
She leaned across the scarred laminate surface of the table and her voice dropped. "The kid was onto something big." Schneider laughed suddenly. "Yeah, I know what it looks like…"
A waitress stood at the edge of the table. "Ready to order?" It was clear she didn't care but felt compelled to at least ask.
"I'll have my usual." Schneider nodded at Jane and Cat. "And whatever their having. I told 'em the meatloaf's the house special."
Cat forced a smile. "With that kind of recommendation, I'll have what she's having. And an iced tea, please."
Although the waitress held a notepad, her pencil remained shoved behind her ear. "What about you?"
"Not a meatloaf fan," Jane muttered. "Last time Maura made it, she used tofu." Even the waitress joined in the chorus of groans at the horror. "Never getting that taste out of my mouth. I'll have the club sandwich. Extra bacon – and none of that soft, floppy crap."
The waitress finally smiled. At least, her lips twitched. "Be a few. I'll get the drinks to you in a minute."
"That something big get him killed?" Jane was back to business as soon as the sound of the waitress' shoes squeaking on the floor faded.
Schneider wadded up her napkin, eyes staring through the table. "More than likely. He's not the only one." She appeared to gather her resolve. "I need you to prove it."