Chapter 49

What You Need

Even in the dim warm glow of Gile's bedside lamp, I can see the color returning to Faith's beautiful features. She is sleeping, a deep, unreachable sleep. Her breathing smooth and even, her brow loose and unworried, no sign of dark dreams behind those bruised eyelids. I envy her the rest, but I am glad nonetheless.

The split on her lip has closed, I watched as the delicate flesh ever so slowly knitted into silvery white scar tissue, and, along with the long white rake across her cheek, fading away as if no harm had ever come to it.

Downstairs I can hear the voices as clear as if I were standing among them. I can even hear the clacking of keys and soft chirps of the modem as Willow confirms the facts.

Esther Rosenberg (43), it seems, really is an FBI agent. Or was. She and her partner Phillipa Clacy had been fired a year ago in a scandal over two murdered children. They had been investigating cults, human sacrifices, ritualistic killings, brainwashings, culminating in what their superior had said 'amounted to a vendetta' against a certain Mayor of a certain town. The scandal followed shortly, and conveniently after. The Mayor's slithering shadow extended far further than Sunnydale.

I bestow a kiss on Faith's forehead and make my way down stairs. Giles has replaced the lightbulbs, and the room has returned to relative normalcy- by which, of course, I mean a disgraced FBI agent is tied to the chair previously used for an exorcism of sorts. My normal is not your normal.

"Where is she?" The woman growls.

"Of whom do you refer?" Says Giles.

"Cut the crap. You know who." She looks around the room at the gathered faces.

"Your partner? Agent Clacy?" Tara offers.

"What have you done to her?"

"Nothing, I assure you. So I take it your partner is missing and you came here because we are high on your suspect list."

"Where is she?"

"I am truly sorry, Ms. Rosenberg, but we are not involved in her going missing. In fact we ourselves are investigating a missing person. A young man who was kidnapped the night Buffy and Willow were shot. We have evidence of who they are, and a lead as to where they may be keeping their captives. It is likely your partner was taken by the same people."

"Look all that posh tosh British charm may work on your little disciples here, but I know all about you Ripper." The woman smiles darkly as he flinches at the nickname. "And your little secret society… The Watchers Council."

"And what, precisely, do you claim to know?"

"I know wherever The Watchers go, I find a string of teenagers dead or missing under mysterious circumstances. Going insane, ritualistic killings, murdering classmates. Like here, with you. What's your body count now Rupert?"

"Lady, you got it the wrong way around." Cordelia says. "Giles is the one trying to stop those things. Fight them."

"You stupid girl, he's brainwashed you. You don't know your ass from your elbow. You're all puppets being experimented on… they are making you all inhuman, one by one. He is making you monsters."

"You got it all wrong." I say.

"Really? Buffy Summers, normal medical history, low grade student, until she comes here. Then a long string of hospital trips, miraculously healing wounds that left doctors baffled, several murder changes… Ted Buchanan, Kendra Smart… she is in so many redacted police reports listing teen murders it practically reads like semaphore. Vandalism, school property damage- suspected of burning down Hemry High gymnasium and blowing up the Sunnydale High and yet… no charges stick, records vanish and… don't you know, all that ties up with calls too and fro to the same address in England."

"Yes, well, Buffy is…"

"Dead. But no body at the morgue. Weird, don't you think? Also missing with no body? Willow Rosenberg and… and… who I just shot twice in the heart at point blank range, and… and… is currently sitting calmly drinking herbal tea!"

"Oh, I am sorry, didya want a cup?" Willow says, quite sincerely.

"You're not human!" She says. "None of you are. All of you have been… been tampered with by The Watchers."

"That's not true! We are..." I say, but then look around the room. Oh. "It's not the Watchers. Okay. Buffy, me… we are chosen ones… into each generation… er... gifted with the strength and the… the… Giles does better than me."

"All the supernatural stuff really exist, some are bad, some are good. The good ones fight the bad ones and it is all a big secret for god knows what reason. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Are we all caught up?" Cordelia says with a shrug. "What?"

Willow pushes herself off the wall and snaps shut her computer.

"Look. I don't have time for this. Right now Oz is somewhere out there having god knows what done to him, and he needs me. Us. We stick to the plan."

"Faith is out of action." Tara says.

"But she is fine." Willow says, her finger indicating 'she' being me. "Suns going down. We get Spike and go. Now."

"We should wait for Faith." Giles says. I want to agree, but the sinking feeling in my gut tells me to resist. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair.

"If those two figured out we are connected, the Initiative won't be far behind. We need to shut them down. As fast as we can."

"Lexi, you are untrained. You are not ready." Giles says. I look around the room, frustrated, until my eyes fall on Cordy. A memory hits me, and a smile follows.

"As a Slayer, maybe. But that's not what we need right now." I grab up my jacket, and a vial of holy water and head for the stairs. "And what we need right now I AM trained in."

"What on earth do you mean?" Giles says.

"You wanna sneak onto a military base? What you need is a soldier."


Okay, quick reality check needed. I am girl now. Not just any girl, but I am a Slayer. Okay, cool, got that bit. Right, also this girl that I am is currently dressed in a black polo neck and combat pants, a balaclava rolled up like a cap on my head, and a stolen FBI pistol on my hip. Okay. My best friend, who just survived a double tap to the heart like it was a rubber band gun , is dressed likewise. My nemesis, the nightmare made flesh who bit into my throat and drank my blood and left me with the deepest scar I will probably ever have, is humming The Ramones as we all casually stroll to the university to rescue a werewolf from a top secret military base. Okay. Got that all Lexi? You got all that?

"Can you stop humming." Willow growls.

"Oh, do forgive me for disturbing all the witty banter between you two." Spike says. "I take it you haven't made nice with Buffy's replacement yet?"

"That's none of your business, Spike."

"Understandable. Best friend of years cruelly murdered and suddenly Suzy Sunshine here pops up to fill the gap. Doesn't really measure up to Buffy, does she?"

"Can it, Spike" I say.

"And what of Xander Harris? Did the pathetic whelp finally abandon you, Willow? Like Oz did?" That's it, I grab Spike by the collar and drag him down towards me, fist raised to wipe the smirk off his face, but in so doing his face is suddenly very, very close to my face. His eyes glint wickedly in the moonlight. I swallow and my fist waivers. "What are you gonna do, Lexi Hart? Gonna stake me?" He chuckles. "Way, I see it, I get a free pass on saying whatever the hell I like right now. You need me."

"Fine." I say. "Say what you like. Let's face it, with that chip in your head, just talking is all you do to us right now." Spike's eyes scrunch for a moment at the barb, but the mischief returns.

"Not the only thing I could do to you, Lexi." Spike grins. He sniffs the air, just a faint gesture, but I know what it is he can smell and I hate my body for it.

"Ew. That's it. Ten feet forward. I have a gun, remember. It won't kill you, but I am an ex soldier and can kneecap you plenty good."

Spike smiles and shrugs. With a sweep of his duster, he strides on ahead of us. We walk on in silence for a while, until that silence seems to be an admission of how Spike's observation of the state of our friendship. Willow breaks first.

"Don't let him get under your skin" She says.

"Too late for that. He's already under my skin. He's been inside me for months." Willow looks at me with something like disgusted curiosity. "I mean, psychologically. And he knows it, that bitey British bastard." That last bit mumbled more to myself.

"Maybe it's a Slayer thing. You and vampires, right?" Willow smirks. "Buffy swooned over Angel. You swoon over-"

"I do not swoon. There is no swooning. This is a swoon free zone." I grit my teeth. "Soon as this truce is over, I am staking him. Good and hard."

"And not in the least bit Freudian." Comes the response.

"You dropped out of psych 101, so quit it. Besides, whilst we are all psychoanalyzing, what's the what with you and Oz? You seem hell bent on saving him. Way beyond resolve face. You still love him? I thought you where gay."

"Of course I love him. And… and… I am gay. This is different. It's primal, Xand. Sorry… Lexi. I don't think anyone would understand. It's like, after I changed he and I… it's like a… uh..."

"A pack thing." I say. "You forget, I totally get that."

Willow scours her memory before her eyes light up. "Oh" she says. "The hyena thing. But I thought you said you don't remember anything about- oh."

"Not a word to anyone." I say, feeling my cheeks flush "Especially Buffy. So yeah, I get it. You're pack… You're family. Let's go get your boy."

"We're family too." Willow says. "We are still family, right?"

"Scoobies for life." I grin.

"So… " Willow says, her face fighting between blushes and smirks. "You know werewolves have amazing senses of smell too, right?"

"Not. A. Word." I growl.


"Here." Says Spike for the third time. "This is definitely it." He looks around at the campus to get his bearings, points to a building with a clock and to a tree. "Just up here, on that grassy ridge."

"Definitely? Like the last two 'Definatelys' where definately lacking in their definitive-ness… ness. You do know what definitely means?" I say.

"I was running for my life. I wasn't exactly stopping to take compass readings." I follow the vampire up the small hill next to the biology department.

"I swear Spike, if you are leading us on a wild goose chase it won't be the heart I stake you through first."

"Aha! Told you." The vampire gestures at his feet, a smug smile on his pale face. "See. One secret military base entrance."

"It's a man hole." I say flatly.

"No. It's says 'secret lab' right there on the lid."

"Where?"

"Next to Doctor Lexi Hart, phd in stupid."

"Nice." I scowl. But my face falls when he presses on the manhole and it hisses open on a hydraulic arm. A vent of steam gushes up, filling the air with a stench like detergent. I step to the edge and see dim lights far below.

"See, my love. The Big Bad always delivers on his promises."

"I stand corrected. Well, Spike, in you go."

"That was not the deal. Also… no bloody way." Spike stuffs his hands into the pockets of his duster and rocks back on his heels. "Barely got out of there the first time."

"You said you owed them." Willow growls.

"Which is why I led you here. So, have fun kids."

"In. Now." I scowl.

"Okay. Okay, keep your knickers on Slayer." He sighs, and then grins. "Oh wait... better plan." And in a swirl of his duster he dashes off towards the bushes. I start to give chase but Willow seizes me by the webbing.

"Oz!" She says. I skid to a halt and throw my arms up in the air. "Besides, he is chipped. He can't hurt anyone. Can't feed." I sigh, she is making sense.

"Fine, but you ensoul that bastard as soon as we get back. Extra soul. Like, Ray Charles levels of soul."

I watch Spike's lean silhouette disappearing across the courtyard and off into the shadows of the night where he belongs.