Part 2 - Revealed
Buffy wandered dizzily, numbly, along the dark street, shivering slightly. Her leather pants were rumpled, her black T-shirt stained and dirty. Something had happened to her...she felt odd. She'd been asleep, in the cheap, seedy motel room she was renting. She'd left Sunnydale not long before, running to escape the Council, those who'd been sent to find and restrain her. Of course, she knew she was Buffy, on the inside. But the outside? Hell, that was all Faith. Somehow there'd been a switch and now? She looked like Faith. She sounded like Faith. She didn't act like Faith, but no-one had seen that. She was the rogue Slayer, as far as the Council was concerned. But she knew she wasn't. So she'd come to LA, knowing that Angel was here, knowing there was a breathing space, a chance to try and find help. She'd been here a few days, wary, staying low and watching him, wanting to be sure she could approach him safely, wanting to be sure that the Council hadn't somehow contacted him.
She'd had the oddest dream. Different from the others. Blood, and chanting. Colours, something hovering over her. Then – something being ripped away from her. She'd woken screaming, sheathed in sweat. And now? Well, she felt different. Like something was missing. She'd showered and dressed in the crumpled clothes without looking in the mirror, knowing already that her skin was white and her eyes hidden in bruised circles from lack of sleep. Nightmares stalked her sleep, denying her any rest. Faith, coming after her, laughing at the switch she'd done. Watching her own face twisted in a sneer, seeing her own eyes looking at her with Faith behind them. Faith wielding her knife, the gift from the Mayor. Falling into the empty grave, watching Faith stand on the edge, laughing with her mouth. Watching herself start to shovel the earth into the gaping grave, screaming as the soil filled her mouth and darkened her vision, burying her alive. Waking with her heart thumping in her chest, screams ringing out in the dark.
She'd tried to warn her mother and Giles, but they'd just assumed she was ranting, a desperate effort to escape them and the Council. Well, she couldn't blame them. All they could see was Faith's features, Faith's body. All they could hear was Faith's voice. She still, though, couldn't quite believe her mother had watched while she was chained and marched away by the Council thugs. So she'd run. Knocked out the idiots the Watchers had sent – no match for a Slayer, especially an angry one – and run. Hitched lifts where she could, and she'd made it. Safely here. Now all she had to do was find Angel. She was so sure he could help. He would know it was really her and not Faith. He had to.
The vampire stepped out from the shadows, a young one. Feral light filled his eyes as he grinned, looking at her, eyes raking her from head to foot. "Shouldn't be out here all by yourself," he said. "Might meet something nasty." His face Changed. "Like me."
Buffy shook back her hair. She'd gotten used to being in Faith's body now, the different reflexes and strengths. Not the same as her own. Like wearing clothes that didn't fit properly. But she was used to it now, had used it to Slay more than once. Vampires were vampires, whether you were in Sunnydale or not.
The vampire charged her, punching, spinning her round. She shrieked in pain as she slammed sideways into the wall of a nearby building, falling to her knees, her shoulder first exploding with agony then going numb. What was happening? She stumbled to her feet, kicked out but the vampire easily evaded her, circling backwards, laughing. "Oh, I love it when they fight!" he crowed. "Makes the blood so much sweeter. Gives it added taste, you might say!" Easily he pounced towards her, grabbing her arms.
She struggled but her strength had gone, failed her. He held her, laughing into her face, mouth opening, fangs glinting. Buffy realised with despair that she was helpless. Something she'd wished for – to be normal. No longer a Slayer. And now? It was going to get her killed. His head dipped towards her. She opened her mouth and screamed, the desperate sound ringing back off the buildings around them.
Angel gunned the car, hearing the sound nearby. Cordy and Wes were in the back, armed with various weapons. He'd ignored them squabbling; Wes had almost stabbed Cordelia with something by accident as they roared round a sharp bend. The tyres shrieked and the car leapt forward, and he could see the figures, now, just ahead, just outside the circle of light cast by a streetlight. A couple. Could have been mistaken for lovers, but he knew. A vampire, feeding.
And his victim? Was Faith.
