Chapter 4: Choose your Battlefields

The sound flesh being pulled together, like a leather shoe being laced for the first time, made Xander winced more than the pain itself. He watched Dawn carefully as she sowed his skin shut where the bullet had slashed his arm open. He was still surprised just how much she had grown in the last two and a half-years since he'd last seen her; but he supposed that's how he should feel, how everyone does in this situation. She handled the wound with care and precision, as if she'd been doing it all her life. In a way, she had been.

"So that was your brilliant plan? Almost get yourself killed?" she asked lightly, a smile forming on the edge of her mouth.

"A small flesh wound to the arm doesn't quite qualify as almost getting killed, Dawn, and I had to make it look real. Otherwise, phase two, would have been an expensive waste of explosives. Not to mention one lonely barbecue."

Katrina entered the living room, holding up some disinfectant and one of Xander's shirts; not far behind her, Marcus followed, his eyes lighting up as he caught his first look of Dawn. Katrina's eyes, for themselves, took full advantage of Xander's bare chest, making a sudden stop at Dawn's fingers, stitching up the cut on his arm.

"Hey," she said impressed, "you're pretty good at this. Are you pre-med too?"

"Nah," she answered, "History. Love the stuff, it's like the more I learn about the past, the more I learn about myself, you know? I want to be a singer anyways, so study is more like a hobby."

"You know," added Xander with a smile, "I thank god everyday I was long gone by the time you guys summoned that singing demon."

"Hey!" replied Dawn offended, and instantly seizing Xander by the ear.

"Ouch!" he yelped as she twisted it hard, "What was that for?"

"I just thought something might be wrong with your sensitivity levels. Just checking," answered Dawn innocently.

"Huh, singing Demon, that must have been something," proposed Marcus, trying to make his presence noticed. "Hi, I'm Marcus."

"Oh," she answered shaking his hand, "I'm Dawn Summers, old friend of Xander. The non-veangency kind, though. I'm told I should mention that."

"Really, that's good to know. Not that I would ever had thought somebody as good loo…"

"Marcus," interrupted Xander with a tone that immediately wiped the goofy grin off his friend's face, "If you want to keep it, I suggest you never finish that sentence." Xander yelped and winced once more as Dawn almost ripped his ear this time.

"Cool down with the over protectiveness," she said decisively, and then added mischievously, "Big Daddy." The comment earned her a scowl, as well as the questioning stares of Katrina and Marcus.

"Big Daddy?" The words escaped Katrina's lips, before her brain informed her it was happening.

"Not like that," answered Xander defensively, his hands raised in front of him. He almost got up but was firmly pulled back down by Dawn, who hadn't finish fixing his wound. "I swear. Tell them Dawn." She rolled her eyes.

"Geez, the things you do to my ego. Not like that guys… unfortunately. Xander was my legal guardian for a short while, back in Sunnyhell, just until I turned eighteen. That's one of the many reasons I'm no stranger to the fine art of stitching."

"Legal guardian? That would make you Daddy Xander, right?" asked Marcus with a grin. Glares and scowls were appropriately distributed, and the sound of the TV took over their discussion. Midnight approaching, the local news of course featured a rather in-depth look at Xander's earlier activities.

"Earlier tonight, a warehouse near the East River exploded taking the lives of over fifty individuals that police have yet to identify. What these individuals were doing there, and if they had anything to do with the explosion is yet to be determined. A police spoke person revealed however that the large quantities of drugs, guns and other contraband that were found among the rubble seem to indicate that this was likely the work of some organized crime feud.  No word yet as to whether or not there is a connection with the downtown shootout at the Spade-Easton that occurred minutes earlier. "

Images of the burning building being hosed by several firefighters, and of the two baffled cops trying not to look anymore stupid than they had earlier, flashed before the screen, the feminine voice of the newscaster playing over them.

"Did you do that?" asked Sanaz, suddenly standing in the doorway with Garrett behind her. The latter wore a sling around his arm and a surprised expression to see Dawn there.

"Huh… " started Xander tentatively, not knowing how to read Sanaz's expression. All eyes turned to him and a strange silence formed itself, as if even the TV set knew better and quieted its electric tongue. The tension and pressure was horrible. "… yes?"

She stood stoically for a moment, Xander tensing up and closing his eyes, waiting for her to throw a fit or send the lamp by her side flying across the room to him. Instead, he opened his eyes to a tight heartfelt hug.

"You did all of that for me, for Gabe?"

"Huh, well… yeah."

"You're such a sweetie," she added pulling back, slapping him on the arm in a friendly gesture. "I swear, if you weren't a borderline psychopath alcoholic, I'd be going all rebound on your sweet tight ass."

"Huh… thanks… I guess," replied Xander, a bit confused at first, and then smiling slightly at his friend's newly found good mood. She was so jittery that she was almost literally jumping up and down.

"So, tell me. Ding dong the witch is dead, right?" she asked, and Xander's smile disappeared. The uneasiness that had vanished so fast, returned once more and he was again at a lost for word, his eyes fleeing her growingly worried stare.

"Sanaz, that… that was never the plan…."

"Wait that bitch kills my boyfriend, cripples my brother, but because she used to fuck your brains out, you don't plan to do anything about it? So what the hell was that all about? Did you think you could trick me into forgiving you… wait, you know what? Forget it, there's some things you just got to do yourself." She turned around and tried to leave but Xander seized her arm as gently as he could. She instantly scowled him, her eyes stared with repulsion at his grip, but he kept it firm.

"You can forget about me letting you walk out that door, Sanaz. You go after Faith, looking for vengeance, she'll kill you. Now I didn't do that for nothing, you're gonna get your revenge, but you got to understand, everything has its time."

"Time? Bullshit! Time is what you're buying yourself. You don't want to take her out so you're inventing yourself excuses to believe you're doing something about this problem. Well you know what? You're not. The bitch that killed my boyfriend is still alive…"

"But Faith didn't do this," threw in Dawn, standing up next to Xander. "She couldn't have."

"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you think you know about this?"

"Listen I know I don't know you, and you don't know me, but please just take my word for it. She would never do this. Faith… she, well she is kind of wild and uncontrollable, and yes… sometimes evil, but Xander's like the closest thing she has to family. He's… well he's the only man she's ever loved."

"Whoa, where did the love thing come from. I thought we were talking about hate, can't we keep on the subject here," shrieked Xander, nervous as hell and forgetting completely what the discussion was really about.

"Will you please shut up, O emotionally repressed one. Listen, Faith might kick his ass, break every bones in his body, hell, even kill him one of these days, but she wouldn't ever hurt him like that. And not only because she knows Xan would never forgive her."

"Really?" asked Sanaz unconvinced. 

"If you're asking that, than I guess you don't know what our common friend here is really capable of. Because if I ever killed one of you, and mind you I love Xan, but I'd set myself on fire instead of living to see what his psychotic mind would have in store for me. And Faith knows that better than I do. Also, let me reference to the fifty or more dead people he just killed to make a point."

"Make a point?" Eyes turned to a tied tongue Xander who glared at Dawn. How she got so good at knowing what he was thinking, he didn't know. Even more importantly, she had made sure to play innocent until now, and he took notice of that. Dawn had grown to be an astute little manipulator, bidding her time properly.

"Prison mentality," he answered mysteriously.

"Prison mentality?" asked Katrina, intrigued, as they were all.

"Yeah, somebody pushes you, you push back twice as hard. Somebody kills one of your buddies, you kill two of his. That's the way you get respect. My point is fuck off, I can get to you, I'm stronger than you, and whatever you throw at me, I'll throw you twofold if not more. It's to make them think, make them afraid. If they start asking themselves, is it worth it, is what we're gonna do worth the price he'll make us pay for it. Then they blink, they hesitate, they become afraid and weak, and suddenly I dictate the rules of the game."

"But what if they don't care?" asked Sanaz, still angry, but slowly surrendering herself to Xander's logic.

"Mason loves money, trust me he cares. He cares about the cash I just cost him, not to mention the unfortunate attention I brought to his illicit activities. Don't worry Sanaz, I'll get you your pound of flesh before this is over."

"You best be right about this Xander… you best be right." His grip on her arm loosened and she made her way back toward the stairs. Escaping to her room, seemed like the thing to do at the time, but she stopped for a second, just enough to turn around and let out a revelation to her friends. "Gabe is gonna live, he might loose the use of his legs, but he's gonna live; if anybody even cares." 

She vanished, as everyone let out a sigh of relief or just let their tense shoulders slump down. Xander even tried to light up a cigar as he sat back down, but Dawn slapped it away from his mouth and followed with another twisting of his ear.

"Owwww!"

"No smoking! It's not good for you…"

'My god!" said Xander exasperated, "I so need a drink right now…. Owwwww!"

"No alcohol! Don't make me use my resolved face, now."

"What are you? My mother, Dawn? I think you have our roles reversed here."

"If you think I'm just going to let you destroy yourself all over again, you've got another thing coming, Lavelle. From now on, there'll be no booze, no drugs, no bloodwine…"

"Hey! I've never touched bloodwine in my life!"

"Oh spare me the denial, Xan. What about that bottle I found in the dryer?"

"That was Spike's, I swear! How many times am I gonna have to have this discussion. I swear I've never touched the stuff."

"What exactly is going on here?" asked Garrett, bringing the room's attention on himself; he could only endure being ignored for so long. "Were you two married or something? I'm only asking because you two sound just like it. And by the way, is there any gorgeous new girl in town that you don't already know from your seemingly cover model filled past?"

"Oh shit, Garrett," exhaled Xander with sorrow, rising to his feet once more. "I'm sorry man, I didn't see you there. Listen I—"

"Oh shut up Harris, I'm not a baby. So I got shot, big deal. If it weren't for what happened to Gabe and Carl, I'd qualify this as a good experience. I mean—do you have any idea how many girls I'm gonna score with now that I actually have a bullet wound. Chicks love tough guys."

"Believe me," interrupted Dawn with an annoyed tone, "He knows all about that."

"This is Xander's daughter," explained Marcus, a malicious grin on his lips.

"Oh Daddy Xander's daughter, huh? I must admit," said Garrett, his tone suave, "that kind of turns me on."

"Marcus, you have five minutes," said Xander with a scowl, "run."

"Calm down, Xan. Don't make me start revealing all your darkest secrets." Dawn intervened as Marcus hesitated between taking Xander's threat with seriousness or jest. "Why don't we concentrate on the task at hand instead? What's step three?"

"Step three is simple, suicidal, but simple. It more or less revolves around me kicking Faith's ass."

"You and which one of your imaginary friends, Xan?"

"I think I can take her Dawn, I have a plan. And more impotently, I can't afford not to. She's been pushing me, and I've been letting her. She didn't attack us that night; I know it in my guts. But I can't wait until she finally does snap, or has a momentarily lapse of judgment. I have to stop her now, I have to make her understand what I made Mason understand today. It's got to be me and her, and nobody else."

"She'll kill you. You don't even have a sword, maybe if you did you'd…"

"Hojiro, my teacher, always said I could defeat your sister if I tried to kill her and stopped myself at the last second. I never could do that, not with her, not with Faith. But things change Dawn; hearts grow cold. I'm not going to let her push me around anymore, I'm going to show her who's the Captain to her Tenille."

"Captain to her Tenille?"

"Shut up."

"Prison mentality, huh?" noted Mason, having just spent the last twenty minutes listening to Faith's explanations. Both her and DeMontagne barely had had time to change before they'd been called back to the office for a thorough chewing out.

"Like I said. I thaught him that."

"I understand that, Faith. What I don't understand is how it happened. Don't I pay you two to protect my assets, most of which were destroyed last night? Don't I pay you to tell me in advance what Xander might be thinking? Do you have any idea, any at all, what this little show of strength of his just cost me? Not to mention I'm going to liquidate a relatively small, but still important part of my remaining assets, just to bribe the hell out of the New York Police Department. "

"Fuck off, I was telling you he was up to somethin'. And it wasn't my bright idea to go and piss on his gate in the first place."

"What?" interrupted DeMontagne, "How was I supposed to know?"

"How did he found out about the warehouse? You know, what? Never mind, I don't even want to know. It's gonna take me months to hire some new personnel. Nobody who's heard of this massacre is going to want to work for us, nobody we want anyways. How many people do we have left, DeMontagne?"

"About a dozen, mostly humans."

"Good, at least that's something. We have another problem though. With the warehouse gone, we've lost our ability to import personnel, artifacts and contraband. I'm afraid we're going to be low on cash for the next little while, and that, I need not tell you, is very disappointing. Our employer is getting impatient, and as much as he is amused by these latest developments, he wants results. Hence, we need the medallion all the more now."

The phone rang throughout Mason's speech. He stared at it as the red light bleeped, it just wouldn't shut up and it reminded Mason of his dead secretary. Replacing her would be very inconvenient. He finally sighed and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Mason, buddy. Wassssssupppp?" The voice on the other end was instantly recognized, and not knowing whether to smile or sigh once more, he remained stoic. He pressed the speaker button as he gave Faith a look.

"Xander, calling to gloat I assume."

"Well Mason, my old friend, I was just wondering if my girl Faith enjoyed her little swim?"

"Fuck you, Lavelle."

"Whoa, where's all that aggression coming from? I thought that time of the month wasn't for another week or so."

"What? You expect me to be all grateful and shit, just cause you didn't off me when you had the chance. That's your second worst mistake of the day, you retard."

"Please children," intervened Mason, "Perhaps you would consider ceasing this little lovers quarrel long enough for you to reveal the reason behind your call, Xander."

"Well Mason, I feel kind of bad. I feel like I might have gone overboard a bit, and I want to give you a chance to make it up."

"How's that?"

"I'll be on the hundred and twenty-sixth floor of the new Peterman building, you know which one I'm talking about. I'll be alone. Faith shows up, I'll give her a shot at the medallion; otherwise, I'll disappear, forever. I got my bags packed and everything, and Faith will tell you, I'm good at disappearing."

"You want me to come alone?" asked Faith defiantly.

"Would your little master let you if I asked? No, bring as many as you want, I don't care, more meat for the grinder."

The line went dead and the three unholy allies exchanged a look.

The hollow metal structure sprouted out some thirty floors below, out of a concrete mouth of urban architecture. From there, red beams intersected with planks and chrome metal sheets to form an insane maze, the skeleton of the city's newest giant. The Peterman Building had a target completion date that had expired two months ago; it seemed to Xander it would take the boys another six to really finish it. When they would, though, this would be the world tallest building, giving the housing prestige to NY once more.

With his back pressed against an upright beam, only a few floors away from the top, Xander stared out into the starry night with a feeling of overwhelming power coursing through him. It was a feeling very akin to the one experienced by mountain climber upon conquering their highest peak. Up there it was terrifyingly windy, his old black fatigues, which he had opted over his regular clothes, flapped about constantly. He was a shadow, only that sound betrayed him, but there was nothing to do about it. He adjusted his facemask and took a second to wipe the dust off the Dragon-12 insignia on his shoulder. It felt good to be back in uniform, even for such a dire purpose. He waited, without the slightest fear or impatience.

"I can't protect you." Her voice echoed like Death, vibrating though the wind like it didn't exist. Buffy stood at the other end of the beam, looking at him with sad eyes. "She's a slayer, one of the primal forces of this world. Our connection is growing, but it's nowhere near that. I won't be able to protect you."

"I wasn't counting on it," answered Xander unaffected by her presence. "If you wanted to help, you could have given me more of a warning yesterday, or maybe you even could have said something the day before, Skoll."

"I'm here to help you on your path, not baby you Xander. I kept you alive, maybe everything else was meant to happen… And you could call me Buffy." She asked the last bit with a shy but hopeful smile on her lips. She took a few steps forward; her ethereal form, unwavering despite the raging cold winds. Snow began to fall.

"Yeah," answered Xander, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He stared away from the painful image of Buffy, instead concentrating on the snowflakes suddenly floating down from the sky. "But then, I wouldn't get to hurt your feelings." The snow was a nice touch he thought, it had been getting uncharacteristically colder the last few days and it was only appropriate that bad weather would come and complicate his plans. Nature the sweet unforgiving bitch, the unseen player upon the stage.

"Who the hell you talking to, Gramps?" Garrett's voice came crackling over the personal radio. Buffy was gone, but Xander didn't loose a beat, pressing his fingers against his earpiece.

"Nobody, Dragon-3. Please use proper radio format and code. Over."

"Alright, alright…" Xander could picture Garrett rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Dragon-1, this is Dragon-3. Who the hell are you talking to, sir? Over."

"Cut that 'sir' shit, or I'm gonna break your other arm when this is over. Over." Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes into the ops and he was already regretting letting Dawn convince him to let them all come along. With a slightly damaged arm, and the now foul weather, it still seemed like he had made the smart choice. He stared out to his left toward Garrett's sniper nest on top of a nearby skyscraper.

"Dragon-3. This is Dragon-1. How's your visual? Over."

"Snow is starting to get heavy, but that night vision lenses thingy is a charm. I can see your eyes. Is there a zoom thing on this?"

"Do me a favor Dragon-3, point that thing somewhere else, and whatever you do don't touch the dials, I got the thing set for this wind speed, and besides your too close for it to make much difference. Over."

"Dragon-1, this is Dragon-4. Lock and loaded, we're ready to fire at your command." Marcus was obviously enjoying himself; Xander just hoped he and Sanaz hadn't mounted the 50-caliber machine gun improperly. The last thing he wanted was for the antiquity he'd borrowed from a local reserve infantry regiment to blow up in their faces. Their own nest had been dug into another nearby skyscraper, they'd settled on the top floor, knocking out one of the windows with a silenced pistol and a sledgehammer. This way, a big L was formed between the two nests and Xander's position at the middle. So far so good, especially for people who'd just received a twenty minutes crash course on military tactics and weapons operation.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself Dragon-4, just don't get too trigger happy, you fire where and when I tell you to. Remember, I'm not bullet proof, even if I was, fifty caliber rounds go through most light tank armor like it's butter, so try and keep clear of the upward beams too. I don't want this whole building collapsing on me. Over."

"By the way, Garrett's right. This night vision lens is real cool…"

"Use the codes, use the goddamn codes, Dragon-4… you know what? Forget it. Just remember to close your eyes when they get here and keep them shut tight until I tell you to. That goes for all of you. You too Dragon-2"

"Dragon-2?"

"Dragon-2 come-in. Use you're hand mic. Click twice if you can't talk…"

"Dawn?"

The lift trembled as it flew by floors and floors at sickening speed, Faith tried to stay strong and keep her stomach in check. She was relieved when the lift finally reached the top floors, exiting its concrete prison and exposing its fourteen passengers to the cold refreshing air of a burgeoning snowstorm. She took a big whiff, and kept up trying not to look down. She was scared, even more, she was terrified, and she hoped none of the men would notice the lift wasn't the only thing shaking.

"This is a trap," commented DeMontagne.

"Of course it's a trap-- for you. I think he's got something special in mind for me."

"You ready to bet your life on that, Slayer?"

"No, but I'm wicked ready to bet yours. Anyway, don't matter. We don't have much choice, we'll just have to try and beat Xan at his own game."

The lift came to a sudden stop. Faith was wired so tight, she almost jumped from the jolt. All stares were on her, and unlike usual, she felt uncomfortable about that. Decisively, she swung the doors open and stepped out onto the beam in front of her.

"Why did he pick this place, anyways?"

"Because it's high, because we're going to be forced to look where we steppin'. It's the fear factor, fear slow you down, makes you weak and indecisive. That and now with the snow and all, this place is slippery as hell."

"But those factors disadvantage him as well."

"No, not Xan. He spent like two years working as a construction worker; this is home for him." She took a few step forward, the others following, suddenly she slipped, her foot loosing its grip on the wet metal beam. She fell to her knees, and launched herself forward to catch a grip of the nearest column. She hugged it like a little child, like she was hanging on to life itself. Inadvertently, as she had struggled not to fall to her doom, she had looked down; vertigo was invading her and her breath was erratic.

"What the hell are you doing?" DeMontagne's voice snapped her back to reality, and to the job at hand. She carefully pulled herself up. She might be petrified, but she wouldn't give anybody the satisfaction of seeing her like this. She just had to soldier on.

"I don't like heights," she answered throwing a preemptive glare at DeMontagne. He watched her disbelievingly for a moment; she looked like a child learning to skate for the first time. He opened his mouth to say something, and was interrupted by a blast behind him. The elevator's cables had just exploded releasing it into oblivion with two helpless member of their team coming along for the ride. They screamed their lungs out as they realized the emergency breaks had been cut as well.

"… and then they were twelve," quipped Faith, a weak smile showing on her face.

"Made it m'ma!" yelled out a voice from behind a column a floor above them. "Top of the world!!! Ooooo!"

DeMontagne lost no time, making quick hand-gestures, signaling to his men to spread out and try to surround Xander. For himself, the latter just rested there, his back still against the column.

"What's wrong, Faith? Shaking in your boots already? We haven't even started yet."

"You'll wish you never have when I'm through with you Boy Toy."

"I got a shot, sir!" yelled out one of the merc, his weapon aimed carefully at Xander who seemed to playing around with something, throwing up and down in his right hand.

"Take it!" urged DeMontagne.

"Belay that!" yelled out Faith who forced herself to stand tall. "Remember Mason's orders. We want him alive, with the medallion."

"Surrender now, Harris," yelled out DeMontagne, annoyed but obedient. "Give up the medallion and I won't have to unfortunately go against my employer's wishes."

"Well you drive a hard bargain DeMontagne, but I see you clearly have me beaten. Nice night visions goggles on your men, by the way. So, I guess I should put my hands up. Up they go…"

Xander did as he said but something slip through his fingers and twirled downward to the level of his aggressors, finally hitting a wooden plank, once, twice… Faith's eyes lit up but that's all they had time to do, her arm instinctively tightening its grip on the beam. DeMontagne lips barely started to form a curse. The flashbang exploded.

A bright white fireball lit up the New York sky, and the deafening sound of the device woke up people for miles. The device normally used to distract and disable, to give an entry team the advantage of confusion over their enemies, proved much deadlier in this situation. For the team of mercenary, with their night vision goggles on, there was only darkness now. Their eyesight would most likely suffer permanent damage and for now the blindness was total and unforgiving. The only thing they could hear was a high pitch sound that vibrated incessantly and impaired their balance. Two guards slipped backward falling to their death; their screams never to be heard by any of their comrades or themselves.

"Dragon-4, this is Dragon-1, open your eyes and take out everybody to the right of the middle column. Over."

"Dragon-3, Open your eyes, try and take out the guy at your four O'clock, Over."

Xander quickly spun. He had made sure to steer the fire away from Faith, not wanting one of his friends' stray bullets to catch her by mistake. Having closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands, he was relatively unaffected by the blast which permitted him to personally take care of anybody close to her. He unloaded two bursts, each taking care of one helpless guard. Faith just knelt there, continuing to hug the column like the blind kid she was.

He waited but didn't hear any shots, not from the sniper or from the cal 50. He spun back, and reached for his earpiece.

"Dragon-1 to all, what the hell's wrong. I gave you guys the green light, Open fire!"

"Xander…" Marcus' voice came through, "they're… they're human, dog."

"Fuck," said Xander to himself. He should have known this would happen, but there was no use arguing now. He slipped around the other side and opened fire himself. He killed one of them before bullets flying his way forced him to retreat back. DeMontagne, who like Faith, hadn't been wearing night vision, had already shook it off.

"I need that support fire now, people. Buck up, do your job. A life's a life, doesn't matter if it's human or demon, it taste the fucking same…"

"Arrrrggg!" yelled the guard straight ahead from Xander's position. He slipped of his goggles and started to fire half-blind at Xander's position. Suddenly, before Xander could turn his weapon on him, his head exploded, the night echoing the sound of the Psg-1 sniper rifle.

"You fucking liar," sent Garrett through Xander's earpiece, his voice had a hint of bitter sarcasm, "this feels nothing like killing a demon. I feel like puking."

"Welcome to cherry-free county, Garrett," sent back Xander as he sprinted across the beam, bullets bouncing all around him. It seemed almost everybody had woken from their semi-comatose state, and even if their aim was now severely impaired, Xander doubted he'd make it to cover.

Thankfully, the indisputable sound of the .50caliber machinegun came into play, and Xander looked back just in time to see a row of guards being decimated. He jumped and took hold of a rope he had stashed there in case of such emergency. With a flick of his knife he sliced the rope holding back the counterweight, and was pulled up faster than DeMontagne's aim could follow. He noticed on his way up that the machinegun was still firing, showing no hint that it would be stopping any time soon. Marcus apparently had momentarily flipped and couldn't stop himself, a rather usual reaction for someone as green. The white incandescent glow of the tracer rounds started bouncing off the beams,

"Marcus, cease firing, you're weakening the structure."

"Sorry, man. I got… I just got carried away."

"That's alright Marcus. Everybody cease-fire. You officially got your first taste of homicide, you might want to take a moment now, and reflect on it," said Xander before swinging himself onto a metal platform. He looked back down at the carnage and saw a couple of forms moving about. "Ok, now we just have to see if they'll follow up."

"Maybe we should retreat, sir?" asked one of the two surviving mercs. DeMontagne look down toward Faith, who forced herself up to her feet with hatred.

"Retreat! No, we're not fucking retreating. We came here we're gonna finish what we started."

"Faith, he's got a sniper and…" started DeMontagne before being abruptly stopped.

"No! We are not stopping," she drawled, "He has a sniper and a machine-gunnist who'll be useless once we climb a couple more floors, besides if he wanted them to finish us off we'd be dead. Let's be good little mice and follow the trail to the fucking cheese, or do I need to remind you the medallion is on the line. We leave, he disappears; it's as simple as that. You got it."

DeMontagne eye's pointed down for a moment as if he was actually ashamed for considering any other options. He raised them back to meet hers and he nodded. He'd follow her into hell and back. He couldn't believe he actually taken a liking to the raven haired Slayer, but that's the way the world works; it just keeps on surprising you. She had finally earned his respect, what little he could give to anybody else. Suddenly one of the mercs at the back raised his hand to ask for permission to speak, and Faith just stared at him with disbelief.

"What?"

"I didn't hear what you just said, could you repeat it. I've got this nasty buzzing sound in my ears."

They climbed up pairs by pairs, each one taking one of two sets of stairs leading up. Faith led one team and DeMontagne the other. They were hoping to get the drop on Xander by attacking from two positions at once. Hopefully, he hadn't thought of that and trapped one of the staircases with explosives. That seemed unlikely, but there was no turning back now.

Faith was walking slowly, enjoying the only peace she could find. Stairs were a delight in a world where leaning a few inches to the right or the left could mean life or death. She popped her head above the opening, checking around quickly, and found nothing. She waited a moment as DeMontagne did the same across the building from her. It seemed clean, but as she waited, Xander made his way stealthily behind the man bringing up the rear.

Faith kept scanning carefully as below, Xander cupped his hand around the man's mouth and drove his knife straight down into the fleshy part above the collarbone. A quick gesture toward the exterior severed the man's subclavian artery. He held on strong for the necessary three seconds needed before death, dragging the very lively merc, who tried his best to pierce the chatter of the raging snowstorm with his muffled dead cries. He soundlessly flipped the body over the side and retreated back into darkness.

When Faith turned around, there was nothing, else than the same feeling one gets when one has just been outwitted. She was going to kill the bastard.

"DeMontagne! Watch out, he just killed my backup!"

"What do we do now? We keep going up, or we look for him down there."

"Let's keep going up, like that, we make him come after us, turn the table on him. DeMontagne!" she yelled the last part as Xander popped up from underneath the beam where DeMontagne and his man had been standing, and latched on to the latter's leg, flipping the unfortunate bastard over the side. DeMontagne tried to turn his firearm onto Xander, who hung on by just one arm, but he swiftly slipped underneath and swung himself to the other side of the beam. DeMontagne was left firing a burst into nothingness as Xander continued his swing and swiped DeMontagne legs with a swift kick.

Faith aimed her pistol carefully at Xander's crouched form on the beam, but even before she could try to make up her mind to press the trigger, he was suddenly yanked down from below. DeMontagne had grabbed onto his leg as he was falling over, bringing Xander along for the ride. Xander's hand reached up and clawed for a grip, but his gloved fingers slid along the wet metal. They fell into darkness.

Faith's heart skipped a beat, her eyes snapped shut. This couldn't be it. Xander wasn't supposed to die that way. He was a hero, just like in all those flicks she used to sneak into as a kid. He was the kind of person that was supposed to live forever, and if he did die, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be some grandiose gesture, some selfless act of self-sacrifice, not some bad roll of the dies. Her pistol slipped out of her hands, and she fell to her knees. She felt dizzy staring down into the darkness, but she couldn't help it. She waited, hoping for some sign of life, the respond she received was two large thuds. Her eyes snapped back open, the sound came from only a few floors down; there was a definite chance he had survived.

Xander's vision phased back in time for him to instinctively swing his leg up and kick DeMontagne's sidearm out of his hands; the shot deviated to about an inch from his face. The mercenary apparently had landed on bags of powdered cement, which were a tad more absorbent than the wooden bridge that was now bent around Xander's shape. He was already up and Xander had to fight the tremendous pain flashing throughout his entire body just to use the momentum of his kick to flip himself to his feet.

He didn't make it half-way up before DeMontagne delivered a powerful kick to his spine. The solid red metal column seemed to shake as Xander violently crashed against it. The pain was indescribable, but at least he had managed to make it to his feet. He didn't loose a second, a smile forming out of a pained grunt.

"You fight like a woman." Xander instinctively escaped to his right, and got a glimpse of DeMontagne's knife. The slash that had been aimed at the back of his neck had brought the blade against the metal of the beam and it formed a line of sparks as it rapidly dragged across it.

DeMontagne spun and continued his slash, Xander barely managing to pull his head back in time. A thrust followed and then another slash, both aptly blocked by Xander, but the third slash hit its mark, though only by half a centimeter. DeMontagne felt a sense of pride and success as he watched the red line draw itself across Xander's chest, but that was short-lived as he felt the iron grip on his wrist. He couldn't explain it, but suddenly he was on his back some ten feet away, skidding on a beam while miraculously managing not to fall over.

"I was wrong," said Xander, standing calmly as he studied the blood his hand had collected from his wound, "you fight like a girl with a knife."

DeMontagne let out a battle cry and charged his enemy, however, Xander assumed too quickly he was as stupid as this maneuver seemed to indicate. When DeMontagne stopped himself short, he caught Xander by surprise. The latter still managed to dodge, weave and block his way out of the oncoming strikes, but while always loosing ground, scrambling for balance. His back hit the wall, and the merc instantly tried to capitalize on it by switching to an icepick grip and going for the full strength stab to the heart. Xander fortunately grabbed it, but the merc pressed on, and they were suddenly locked in a pure contest of strength, the knife slowly continuing its voyage.

Xander realized a few things early on. Knives are sharp, snow is cold and DeMontagne was physically stronger than him. He kept cool, his mind racing for a way to escape this most dangerous predicament.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," said DeMontagne, enjoying himself.

"It's funny," replied Xander in between grunts, "I never gave you a second thought."

"You're going to die, Harris. How does it feel to have your life slip away and not be able to do anything about it? Can't you hear death calling your name?"

"I am death," spat Xander before doing the only thing he could. He pushed hard to the right forcing the knife away from any vital area, and then pushed himself forward. He impaled himself on the knife willingly, the blade cutting into his shoulder, but he swiftly shared his pain to DeMontagne in the form of a nasty head butt. And then another, and then another. He actually heard the bone of his opponent nose shatter, right before he switched to another attack, his knee connecting with the bastard's groin. DeMontagne, well trained and full of will, tried to pull out his weapon but Xander stopped him, his right hand holding the knife firmly into his wound. Meanwhile, his left hand pulled back and then shot forward, forming a terrifyingly powerful palm strike to DeMontagne solar plexus. The mercenary flew back where he came from, as winded as he could ever remember being. He slid all the way to the next column until his head banged up against the red upward beam.

"Ouch! That's got to hurt. Well you know what they say, when in Rome, get ready to get crucified. I never knew if I got that one right, but I steer clear of Italy in general just to be on the safe side," said Xander, as he strutted forward pulling the knife out of his shoulder.

"Tell me something, I'm pretty sure you had some hand in what happened to my friends, don't answer though, I really don't care to hear you lie, or even worse gloat. I just want to know, in Dr. Hannibal's famous words: "Bowels in or bowels out?" Well you seemed kinda dazed, why don't you let me decide for ya."

"Why don't you just shut up and think up a prayer," replied DeMontagne as he drew a pistol he had hidden in his boot. Xander froze up in his tracks. He didn't hold the knife in a way in which he could possibly throw it, and standing on a beam left him little option for dodging. He watched as DeMontagne raised himself to his feet and obeyed when he was motioned to chuck the weapon over the side. He was simply fucked.

"Nice gun."

"Thanks. You know, I hate to admit it, but you are better than me. That doesn't matter though, now does it? It doesn't matter who's better, all that matters at the end of the day, is who's left standing, and today, you're not going to be it. Where do you want it?"

"Hey!" called out a voice from the darkness, it was followed by the sound of a new cartridge being pumped into a shotgun. Both men turned their heads and watched the young woman standing on the next parallel beam, her weapon expertly pointed at DeMontagne. Dawn cracked a smile. "How do you say goodbye in French?" She unloaded her cartridge before he could even blink. The shot hit him square in the chest and he was propelled over the side, to dip into darkness once more.

Xander was speechless for a moment, as Dawn, glowing with pride, leaned the shotgun back across her shoulder.

"How did you get up here? And why the hell didn't you answer when I called you on the Com?"

"Aren't I allowed to make a big entrance every once in a while? No, I'm little useless Dawny, only good at getting herself kidnaped? Is that it, Mr. I-Would-Be-Dead-If-You-Hadn't-Shown-Up?"

"Listen I… okay, Thank you Dawn. Thank you for saving my life, and I am impressed, but how the hell did you get up here?"

"That's my secret. So you're really impressed, huh?"

"Well it could have used more of a pun, but overall I give it an eight."

"Dawn?" asked an incredulous Faith as she strode down to the opposite side of Xander's beam. She looked as if she seen a ghost, and more than ever, she looked torn and confused. Her whole body heaved as her breathing accelerated.

"Faith!"

"Dawn," interrupted Xander, his tone wiping the excited smile off her face, "Get out of here. Everybody, Operation Privacy is a success; go home."

"What the hell are you talking about, I'm not going anywhere…"

"Lil' Sis', do what he tells ya, get outta here," Faith spoke while staring straight ahead at Xander. She couldn't bear to look again at Dawn, no matter how much she wanted to; this was too much to handle. She felt too ashamed.

"No! I didn't just kill a man to watch you two pound each other until death and all the other nasty stuff ensues."

"You're not gonna watch Lil' Sis, that's why you're going to leave."

"No, just… just tell him you had nothing to do with it. Tell him you didn't shoot his friends." Faith froze up and looked down a for moment. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute and suddenly the strangest sensation came over her. A deep sadness invaded as she looked up into Xander's unforgiving eyes. She loved him, there was no longer any question about it. Anger surged through her and she started to tremble.

"I did it," she finally lied expertly, her features twisted into a wicked smile. "You wouldn't believe how wicked fun it was to slay your friends, Xander, with you right there unable to do anything about it. I knew you'd dodge the first shot. I thought once your friends were bleeding to death before your eyes, maybe then, maybe then you'd realize just what a pathetic pussy you are. Maybe you'd take your place as my rightful property. I have to say though, torturing you, way more fun than I had imagined."

"No, you're lying!" yelled Dawn, not believing what she was hearing.

"Dawn!"

The young woman shuddered at the aggression behind Xander's yell. He pulled off his facemask and she saw that beneath his cool, stoic exterior boiled more emotions than she could begin to understand. Tears forming in her eyes, she slowly pulled back, complying with his order. She pretended to leave and instead found a spot in the darkness from where she could watch what happened next.

The pair stood, the wind brushing their hairs wildly while snow settled on their features. Their eyes were locked, and they kept quiet for a while.

"She just killed DeMontagne?" asked Faith.

"Looks like; I guess teaching her how to shoot finally paid off."

'That's my girl," she said with sad expression and a hint of pride.

"Yeah, she turned out pretty well." Silence settled back in as there was really no more chitchat to buy time with. After a while, Faith took a long breath and changed back her expression to the tough chick act she had resolved herself to play.

"So that was your big plan, Boytoy? Get me up here so I can kick your ass? Wicked. That's totally five by five."

"What makes you so sure you're gonna kick my ass?"

"What? You think you're silly little medallion is gonna protect you from me? Like it did Tara? Dream on lover."

Xander's eyes spoke his response as he reached in and pulled Skoll out of his shirt. He slipped it out of around his neck and slung it around a metal spike that was sticking out of a nearby column. It hung, balancing gently in the wind.

"I don't need Skoll, Faith. I already got all the advantages I need. Look at yourself standing there, trembling. You're still afraid of heights remember?"

"You think a little fear is gonna stop me from stomping you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I want to know is how fast you think you're going to be able to move now, Faith? Why did you think I brought you up here? For the view?"

"You're way mental. I'm the bad; I'm the Slayer, Xander. You're my bitch!"

"Not up here, Faith. Not anymore. Papa's got a brand new bag."

"Fuck you! Can't beat me for real, so you gonna try to cheat, huh?"

"Hey, I'm just picking my battlefields. The art of war, Firecracker. The art of war."

"Boytoy, I'm gonna teach you things about war, you wished you'd never learned," yelled Faith as she threw off her jacket from her shoulders. She stepped forward menacingly, shifting into a fighting stance.

"One rule," yelled back Xander, his hands rising up in elaborate motions as he stepped forward to meet Faith. Their arms gently connected at the back of the wrist, and their silhouettes became intertwined. He winked at Faith, a grin on his lips. "Don't fall."

Spread in darkness before Dawn's eyes were shadows facing each other in a hail of snow, two shapes locked, their fighting stances aggressive, like two dragons devouring each other mercilessly. Neither Xander nor Faith seemed to want to make the first move, but neither would back down. They stood in eternity, the dark evening sky breathing down on them. Faith made the first move.

She slapped his hand away with a nudge of hers and moved in with the other for a punch. Xander didn't block, instead he snapped his leg up and drove it hard into her solar plexus. His counterattack worked, forcing the winded slayer back before she could complete her strike. Faith blinked, Xander had never displayed such aggression, at least not against her. He was playing for keeps.

He was on her before she could even finish staggering backward. His fists connected with her face in a fury of a combination. Unbalanced, she tried to block, but he just kept slipping through defenses. She finally regained her balance and deflected the incoming blow, following with a punch of her own. Xander dodged under it and delivered one to her stomach, driving her back farther.

Her second attack missed and the third finally landed but the punch had little effect on Xander, his head snapped back toward her just as quickly and he wore a big smile on his face, as if madness had overtaking him, as if the pain was enjoyable. He tried to backhand her to the face but she caught it and used his arm to steady herself as she attempted to kick him. However, Xander's leg shot out and met hers midway, effectively blocking the slayer's attack and sending pain running down her leg. He seemed about to follow with an uppercut but Faith instantly reacted despite the pain, pulling him into a clutch.

"Not bad, Harris," she breathed into his ear. "You're finally showing me what you're made of. But remember, all I need is to land one good punch and your dreams of boy power go bye-bye."

"Just shut up and dance," grunted Xander before driving his knee into her ribs. He followed the attack with a headbutt, knowing that would prompt her to try to knee him back. Faith's head snapped backward and anger filled her. Her body was stronger, it could absorb twice the impact Xander could, and he knew that. Yet he head butted her, even though it would hurt him twice as much as it would her. That enraged Faith; Xander seemed willing to break himself to pieces to get to her.

When her knee shot up, Xander was ready. He used her lack of balance to flip her over his shoulder and send her crashing hard into the beam. Her body bounced and slid down the wet beam, pain shooting through her spine like she hadn't experienced in years. As a grunt of pain escaped her lips, she felt herself loose her balance, she felt her awkwardly placed body tip over the side and suddenly fear overwhelmed her. She shrieked and twisted around frantically until she got a proper hold of the beam. She stayed frozen for a moment, her body as tense as a rock and yet trembling. Xander could see the faintest trace of water in her eyes, as he stood motionless watching. He had never seen her this afraid and he was taken at the same time by amusement and deep sympathy.

"What's wrong, Slayer?" he mocked, "need time to catch your breath already?" It took her a moment to collect herself before she could even glare at him. Vertigo was still overcoming her. To get up, she would be forced to stare down once more into that abyss, into that darkness so complete, where falling snow was engulfed and from where deep down below, the wind sang a sweet requiem. She shut her eyes as tight as she could, trying to steady her erratic breath. She could hear Xander's now somewhat encouraging voice. "C'mon soldier. I haven't given you permission to quit yet."

She stood trembling, unsure of anything but her fear. She barely cared anymore, she just wanted out. She didn't care about Xander, waiting in front of her. She didn't care about her pride or her feelings for him. She just wanted off this tower. Xander brought her back with his taunting.

"Faith, I'm a generous guy, but I've got just so much pity to spare. Are you gonna get your weak little ass over here and fight? You know, maybe I'm being to hard on you, maybe you really don't have what it takes. I mean you're a Slayer, maybe that's all you got. Maybe you're just tough when you're beating on people half your strength."

"You know what you're problem is, Boytoy?" she roared as she stepped up to him, resuming her fighting stance and offering him the back of her wrist. "You're always talking and bitching, just like B. Whine. Whine. Whine. By the way, say hello to her for me when we're done, here."

"Good Faith," he said with a smile, the back of his wrist meeting hers, "I was starting to think you really were as pathetic as you looked."

He thought he was dead. DeMontagne opened his eyes painfully, and quickly realized he was hanging upside down. He stared up at the spike protruding from his leg, hooking him like a piece of meat; it was a painful but welcomed savior.  The pain however was distant, muted by the overwhelming pangs all over his chest. He slipped off the bulletproof vest with a grunt and he examined it carefully, hundreds of little shotgun pellets had distorted its shape into something almost unrecognizable. Small wounds ran all along side his arms, but from the flow of blood he judged none of the pellets seemed to have hit any of his arteries.

He let the vest fall down and swung himself up. Pulling his leg off the spike was easier than he thought it would be. The wound was much larger than the circumference of the metal rod, his landing having torn a large gap into his leg. He probably would be limping for the rest of his life, if he managed to keep the leg at all.

Glancing upward at a few floors above, he could see two shadows facing each other on a beam. Xander and Faith were fighting fiercely, exchanging blows and blocks as if everything was one fluid motion, as if they were dancing. DeMontagne could see Faith hesitating, her body so tense her usual speed and power were considerably reduced. Bringing her up here had been brilliant.

In that moment, as he was watching them unable to say who had the upper hand, he realized just how completely outclassed he really was. He thanked his stars for allowing him to survive this deadly game so far, and quietly limped his way toward the stairs.

Block. Punch. Block. Punch. Block. Punch.

This, was going nowhere fast.

Their fight for control of the centerline continued without either of them able to gain any distinct advantage over the other. They fought and fought, manipulating each other's attack, bridging, and attempting kicks whenever possible. Every once in a while, a blow would reach its target, but Faith could take it, and Xander seemed to refuse that anything short of sudden death would take him down.  Faith was getting more frustrated by the minute. She was the slayer, this should be over by now, he shouldn't be able to keep up like that.

She attempted a kick and he dropped and made a swipe for her back leg. She aptly jumped over it and caught him with a punch on her way down. He staggered backward and she finally had the opening she'd been waiting for. She launched forward and threw punches after punches. Xander blocked some of them but many came through. His head kept snapping backward, and blood flew out of his mouth as a powerful wheel kick landed.

Desperation felt like a metal column against his back.  Faith was smiling at him as she strutted slowly toward him. She was feline as ever and he suddenly felt like a wounded bird. His head throbbed and he barely managed to stay conscious.

"Nice try Boytoy, but I guess your Eye of the Tiger moment is all used up."

"I'm just going easy on you," breathed Xander, taking a second to spit out some blood. "You can't tell, but I'm in total control of this situation." He shot her a bloody smile, his teeth darkened. She threw a punch and he barely dodged it, her fist putting a large dent into the beam where his head had been a moment earlier.

Xander plunged forward grabbing onto a chain that hanged there and swung himself over to another beam. He quickly took a knee and caught his breath while Faith nervously navigated her way to him. As she stepped onto a wooden bridge that separated them, the structure suddenly shook. A deep metallic whine coming from below. Abruptly, all the comfort she felt from the somewhat more roomy bridge vanished, and she was again trying to catch her breath. Xander made his way to his end of the bridge.

"What's wrong, Faith? Don't like what you're hearing? I guess Marcus kind of topple a few cards on this little castle of ours," said Xander before turning his attention toward the sky. "What's wrong you're not afraid of dying are you? Think; this is the greatest moment of your life!" Xander laughed deeply and shook the bridge by jumping on it. Faith looked like she was about to have a heart attack. For himself, he had a wicked grin, and was seemingly enjoying watching Faith squirm. "C'mon talk to me Faith, this is fun. Try and think positive. We'll probably have killed each other way before this starts collapsing."

"You're not funny, Xander. Even in High school, you weren't funny. You were just lame."

"Well there goes my crown has the comeback king"

"Fuck you."

"Oh c'mon, things were going so well, we were communicating, opening a dialogue. Why do you always have to ruin it by being you?"

"Why don't you try communicating with my fist?" She pounced forward and he did the same. He blocked the first two punches and he noticed between the anger and the fear that Faith's emotion had moved her to overextend her attacks. He grabbed the third punch with excitement bursting through his mind. His other hand grabbed onto her elbow and he twisted hard before her disbelieving eyes. Faith yelled out in pain. The crack she felt in her wrist was followed by a popping sound in her elbow; the pain was terrible as Xander held her there caught in an arm bar.

"How does it feel Faith, huh? To have your arm broken in two places at once? The wheel turns doesn't it?" 

She grunted in response, mustering all her strength to kick him off as she fell back to the ground. The wooden planks creaked under her, as if laughing along with Xander. She tried to crawl up to her feet and Xander took the opportunity to kick her in the ribs. She rolled onto her back and tried once more with similar result. She couldn't believe it, she was actually loosing.

"Alright, this is getting boring," finally said Xander. "Get up."

She stood up careful, her back almost to the edge of the bridge. She cradled her broken arm and glared at Xander. He looked amused.

"You think this is over? You think you've won? Think again," she yelled before dashing forward. Xander pulled away from her first kick, ducked under the one that followed and elbowed her to the chest, catching a vicious hook to the face in the process. To his surprise Faith then punched him with her wounded arm, she too was playing for keeps now, and that suited him just fine. However, the blow though not as forceful, was well aimed at his solar plexus, and he now found himself out of breath. Several more blows came his way and he threw a few of his own, but things started to look terribly bad again when he realized his back was now only a meter away from the brink. His knees buckled, and Faith backed of for a second.

"Are you ready for the real pain?" she threw at him. Xander laughed as he struggled back to his feet, his eyes colder and darker than usual. He threw her a maniacal smile her way, blood slipping from his mouth, pouring from his forehead and encircling his eyes.

"I am pain, Faith, I'm your death! May your bones shatter."

As Faith pushed forward, suddenly something eerie happened. Her moves seemed strangely slower, and Xander felt a strange inner calm he had never experienced before. Somewhere deep in his mind, anger simmered. He didn't know why, but suddenly he understood, suddenly he was ready to kill her. Suddenly he wasn't afraid of anything anymore. His hands shot out with normal speed and easily blocked Faith's sluggish moves. One. Two. Three. Snowflakes seemed to hang in the air; the wind suddenly frozen. He sidestepped and watched as she slowly passed him; he sidestepped back with a vengeance, body checking her.  Everything fell back into place as Faith plunged over the side.

Dawn couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Xander's moves had just become a literal blur. Suddenly he had moved faster than her eyes could follow, and Faith had been thrown over the side in the process. She gave a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse of the raven Slayer hanging by her one good arm from a nearby spike. What the hell had happened to Xander since she'd last seen him?

Faith looked down and instantly regretted it. She was on the edge of the building, her feet dangling over nothingness. There was only air between her and cement some thirty floors below. Vertigo was dizzying her up. Xander stood still, his back to the brink, not having moved since he had pulled his matrix on her. He'd won. She was beaten, and neither of them seemed to be able to believe it. Suddenly the entire structure shook and started to bend toward the right. Faith shrieked as hard as he'd ever heard her.

"Xander…" she yelled her eyes watering up, fear burning through her veins as her grip started to slip. "This ain't fair… what? Can't do it yourself, so you're gonna let the building take care of me? That's just like you, some pathetic looser who can't finish anything he starts… c'mon face me!"

"You've lost, Faith," he said without turning around. "All that's left for me to do is watch you die."

"You cunt! You worthless piece of alcoholic trash! How do you think Dawn's gonna think of you when you tell her, huh? What do you think B. would say?" she yelled panicked, trying hopelessly to manipulate her way out of the situation. There was time in her life where she hadn't feared death, sometimes where she'd even been suicidal, but falling thirty floors toward her apparent death again wasn't the way she would ever pick to go. "How the mighty white knight as fallen. What are you gonna tell her you, coward?" 

"I'll lie," he answered before heading off away from Faith's line of sight. Her panic grew. He was really going to leave her there; she was really going to die. The sight of him leaving alone was enough to make her want to just let go. Instead tears started to flow for the first time in years and her voice grew increasingly weaker.

"Help me dammit… please!" she squealed, Faith was suddenly gone, all that was left was that scared little girl she had forgotten completely somewhere between her mother and her watcher dying. Suddenly there were no more lies, no more illusions. The word 'please' felt weird on her tongue, like a razor.  "Xander, it wasn't me, please. It was DeMontagne, it was all DeMontagne, please… please! I love you! Didn't you hear me… I love you!" She started sobbing, and closed her eyes for a second. He wasn't coming back for her; she'd lost him for good this time. She was angry at how pathetic she was to be crying like that, how fucked up she had been to let her life lead up to that moment. She had had so many chances, and she had screwed it all up. There was only one thing to do now.

She was still trying to muster the strength to let go, when something grabbed her wrist. Faith opened her eyes and watched in relief as Xander pulled her up and threw her hard against the bridge. She continued sobbing there for a moment. Her emotions were pouring out of her, and for the life of her, she couldn't regain control.

"I'm pathetic, huh? A real screwed up bitch, just like my mother."

Xander stayed silent staring off into the distance, into the night lit sky of New York City.

"You got what you wanted, huh? Kicked a slayer's ass. Bravo Xander, you got me impressed."

Still Xander stayed silent. Faith felt even more nervous now, not knowing how to interpret what was going on. She was running out of ways to start a conversation.

"I take it you're not gonna off me, right? What now?" she asked as she sniffled,  "Are you gonna try to sermon me on good and evil, now? Aren't you gonna ask me to switch sides again? Tell me how everything's alright, how there's light at the other end of the tunnel?" Her voice became incrementally sarcastic, as she regained her usual composure.

"No Faith," he answered simply turning around and throwing her knife at her feet, the same knife he'd stolen from her the night he left her in Portmamock, the same knife she had thrown into his door the night she'd broken his arm, the same knife the mayor had given her, the same Buffy had stabbed her with. "That belongs to you. Take it and get out of my sight." He turned back around not showing any care that he'd just armed her with a deadly weapon.

Faith gasped. So hurt was she by his statement, so filled with rage that she seized the knife swung her shoulder back to throw it at him. She stopped herself at the last second. Instead, a saddened expression filled her face. He didn't care; he didn't care one bit. He didn't move one muscle, offering himself as a perfect target. She dropped the knife into the darkness, and left, holding her composure only a few seconds before bursting again into tears.

Xander continued staring out into the snowy night, biting his tongue hard not to turn around and run after her. All his life he had only wanted to protect those he cared about, all his life he had failed. Tonight, this Pyrrhic victory held the sad realization that for once in his life, he had done the right thing. He trembled; he yearned for her kiss, his mouth slowly filling with blood.

"I feel sick, I don't think I'm going to sleep well tonight," said Marcus as he stared out into the distance of the New York sky. "I took lives man, I killed people." Xander poured whisky into the glass in front of his friend.

"You killed bad guys, Marcus. You saved my life. Concentrate on that."

"Let me have that, will you?" demanded Garrett as he took the bottle away and swallowed a large swig; it was in turn snagged by Sanaz who followed suit. The four friends leaned over the balcony's railing, dressed in winter gear and wearing long faces as the last of the snow came floating down.

"Revenge doesn't taste quite as sweet as I thought it would," added Sanaz.

"It's an acquired taste," replied Xander, before taking the bottle back.

"Is this how you always feel?" asked Marcus.

"Most of the time, but don't worry for you, it'll pass. It's only when you killed so many people that when you have nightmares, you can't even remember who the hell they are or why you did them in, that's when you start to have a problem. That's when that nausea you're all feeling, that's when it start following you around everywhere. So then, you grow cold, because you don't have a choice, because there's no other escape except maybe madness. It becomes so much easier to just give up on yourself, to label yourself as evil, just like Faith does. It's your only way to make sense of this fucked up world we live in."

"What about you?" asked Sanaz, "You're not evil, you're still a hero."

"Well, I guess I'm just a sucker for punishment."

"How hopelessly romantic," chimed in Garrett with sarcasm.

"Sucker for punishment?" Dawn came out onto the balcony, Xander instantly hiding the bottle behind his back as he turned to meet her. "Sound like somebody else we know."

"Whoa, what are you trying to imply?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow, looking as offended as she'd seen him in years.

"I'm saying I'm thinking of buying you massive amount of hair gel. By the way, you can take the bottle out of wherever you hid it," she said, producing a glass of her own. "I'm here to join."

They all talked for a while, mostly about unrelated things, until they left one by one. Tonight wasn't a night for socializing. Only Dawn and Xander were left standing there, pouring each other another drink.

"It's really good to have you back, Dawn," said Xander after they had exchanged a few laughter.

"Yeah, I missed you too, Xan."

"I'm sorry I had to leave. I just couldn't stay, you know that, everything there reminded me of your sister."

"Yeah, I know. Including me," she said the last part with a little sadness, but forced herself to perk up instantly. "It's no biggie. I really appreciated you staying as long as you did. I know it wasn't easy for you."

"Dawn," he said lifting her chin so she would meet his gaze, "I should have tried harder. You're here now though, and I promise, I'm not going anywhere anymore."

Suddenly, Dawn felt an old urge surge back through her. Being so close to Xander for the first time in years felt weird, it sent her heart racing for old feelings she thought she had buried long ago. Alcohol on her mind, she suddenly felt the strong impulse to kiss him. Her hand reached up and cupped his. She stared into his eyes; she was close enough to feel his warm breath. For a moment, only a moment, she thought she saw something; she thought for a second he might actually kiss her back if she only leaned forward, if only her lips reached out for his.

Leaning into his touch felt right, it felt like a warm blanket, like coming home. Her heart thumped and thumped. His skin under her fingers; the musk of his scent. She hungered for his taste, she desired his lips. In her mind, they were already sharing an embrace and her whole body tingled. Her breath started to accelerated as she felt herself wavering, Faith the farthest thing from her mind. She was about to lean in and kiss him when she noticed the confusion in Xander's eyes. He was tensing up as he suddenly became uncomfortable with their proximity. She covered instantly by giving him a huge hug, which after a few seconds, he reciprocated entirely. When she pulled away, she had to look down for a few seconds, Xander staring into his own drink. They finally broke the awkward silence with nervous laughter.

"You know, "said Dawn finally, feeling embarrassed for entirely different reasons. "I heard what you said to Faith up there."

"I know."

"You were… listen I know she was in the bad, but seeing her cry like that… it's Faith, Xander, she's not supposed to cry…you were—you were really harsh."

"I had to be, Dawn."

"Why?"

"Because the cycle had to be broken. Because pushing her away, as sick as it sounds, might be the only way to ever get her back. Faith is the only one who can make herself change and she was never gonna try with me holding her hand. You only change when you're all alone, when you've been stripped of everything. Hitting bottom is the only thing that can affect someone that profoundly. Me walking away made her change to what she is today; doing it again might pull a double negative. Sometime, Dawn, you just have to hurt the ones you love." Xander turned away to sip on his drink as Dawn took a moment to consider what he had just said. After a moment, she punched him as hard as she could on the arm. Xander smiled and gave her a little mock punch of his own.

"One thing I need to know-- up there," said Dawn finally, "you sort of went all… matrixy? What's up with that?"

"I don't know, I noticed it though. It never happened before and to be honest, it kind of freaks me out."

"Maybe it was that medallion thingy?"

"There's just one problem with that: I wasn't wearing Skoll," he replied, his hand stroking the golden emblem of the wolf.

"Maybe you're like, becoming the One or something. You haven't been traveling to alternate dimension killing version of yourself, have you?"

"Not that I know of—I broke a mirror the other day?"

They both smiled to each other and decided to switch the conversation to lighter and more trivial things, catching up on school and other non-demon related life subjects. After a moment, they ran out of things to say and they simply stood for a while enjoying the cold air and the warm taste of the alcohol.

"At least, DeMontagne paid for what he did," said Dawn.

"Well you know what they say about vengeance," said Xander mysteriously, "best served cold."

"Well, I guess you'll be glad to hear I managed to hire us a skeleton crew for the moment, just to insure our personal protection as our enterprise recovers from its recent financial losses. Of course I don't need to tell you, Faith, that I have to pay these idiots at least three time as much as they're worth. I think the first thing I'll do, once we can again afford some quality people, is to have them killed and have their savings extracted from their accounts. Hopefully they won't have drunk all of it by then."

Faith barely listened to Mason, her thoughts somewhere even less pleasant. She was sprawled comfortably on her chair, tapping her finger angrily against her thigh. Her other arm was in a cast, the sling digging uncomfortably into her neck.

"Whatever."

"Well alright, moving on then. I owe you an apology, Faith. You were right, I was wrong. We should have killed DeMontagne straight away and given his head as a present to Xander. Given time that might still be possible of course."

"What do you mean?" asked Faith suddenly interested.

"His body was never found at the scene, and somebody matching his description checked himself into the emergency ward at Bellevue hospital yesterday night, with a massive leg wound and shotgun pellets imbedded into his arms. A fairly unique scenario, wouldn't you say? Do you think we should inform Mr.Harris, then?"

"No, it doesn't matter now, trust me."

"Very well, if you say so."

"So what's the next big plan," asked Faith, "thievery, smuggling, murder, or just your regular end of the world type plan. What do you need me for? It's what I'm good at anyways."

"Actually, I'm afraid we'll be toning down on all of our illegal activities for the next few months. I'm afraid Mr. Harris as left us in no shape to pursue our present goal. We'll just have to keep a low profile and bide our time for a little while. However, since you asked me what I needed you for, I do have one task in mind."

"What?" asked Faith, as Mason got up and walked around to seat on his desk directly in front of the Slayer. He shoved his hands into his pocket and threw her a winning smile.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"Are you for real?" she asked annoyed.

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't I be, I mean, you are unattached, aren't you?"

"I'm a big girl, I've always made my own fucking decisions."

"Yes, well I meant, you and Mr. Harris won't be seeing each other for a while, at least. I thought maybe I could cheer you up."

"If I need cheering up from you, I'll nail one of your feet to the floor and have you run around in circle for my amusement. Are we five by five on this?"

"Well, I'm not quite clear on the metaphor, but I'm still hopeful you'll have dinner with me tonight. Look, Faith, if Xander can't see just what an amazingly beautiful and irresistible woman you are, I…"

"Oh, c'mon, don't try charming your way into my panties. I got some bad news for you, Mason, I don't get vulnerable."

"Faith, I wasn't trying to charm you. I meant what I said; you are an incredibly attractive woman. I've wanted you since that very first moment I saw you in Russia. Can you really blame me for feeling that way, when I'm haunted by your beauty. When I yearn so much to spend only an evening with you, to talk and dine with you, while he rejects you utterly because he can't appreciate just how lucky he is to have you. God, Faith, why can't you believe me, you are beautiful."

"You really think so…" she asked still hesitating, her resistance and disbelief waning as she stared into Mason's blue eyes. Mason was a hard man to say no to.

 The phone rang before he could answer. When he picked it up he instantly pressed his hand over the receiver.

"I'll pick you up at eight. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take this privately."

Once Faith made herself scarce, Mason turned back to the telephone.

"I'm sorry ,sir, we can talk now."

"You lied to me, Mason, did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"Whatever are you talking about, sir?" The voice on the other end burst into a hoarse laughter.

"I do have to hand it to you Mason, you have courage to lie to me twice. Not many would. I am however talking about how you really are the one who organized the hit on Xander."

"Why would I do that, sir? DeMontagne acted on his own, if he was here he would tell you, himself."

"No, I know that is what you told him to say, under pretenses of checking Faith's loyalty. I bet the poor fool still doesn't know he was being set up for the slaughter. I have to admit it though, it was a rather well played gambit, but a very expensive one—for me of course."

"I disagree, sir. I was afraid Faith's relationship with Xander was securing his moral compass. And as you can see, this latest development had a rather desirable effect. Xander's slipping again toward, shall I say 'the darkside', just a little more and he'll be working for us in no time. Life, Love, and War, it's all about chess, about moving pieces on a board. It's an art that I'm sure you're familiar with. I'm sure you agree with my reasoning, sir."

"What I would agree to, Mason, is that you are a skilled liar, but are still expendable. Threaten my affairs again, and I will have you castrated, like that you won't be so prone to have your judgment impaired by your desire for a woman."

"Well, sir, with all do respect, I think you would be one to respect and understand the appeal of lust, not to mention a good gamble." The comment earned him another hoarse laughter.

"Enjoy the woman, Mason, but remember, don't try gambling with me again. The house, after all, wins every time."

DeMontagne limped his way out of Bellevue on a Sunday afternoon. He leaned hard on the crutches and smiled as he made his way though the street, he smiled because he could look down at any time and see his leg attached to the rest of his body. In a month or two he'd be able to walk on it again. Of course, his mercenary days were over, but everyone had to retire one day. He was glad he had lived long enough to.

He studied the street for a long time, hiding away on the corner. He checked for ambushes or for any sign somebody might be watching his car. Everything seemed clear and he proceeded. The inspection of his car was as throughout as possible, both before and after he'd gotten in. He took a final breath before he nervously turned on the ignition. The soft purr of his engine was a welcomed sound from the expected explosion.

Dreams of sunny beaches and of California women filled his mind as he began driving off, never to return to this filthy city he had come to hate. The place where he'd been broken. He rode out and stopped at the light where an old bum scrubbed the windshield of every car with a dirty rag, hoping for the occasional kind soul who'd toss a few coins at him instead of a few insults. DeMontagne waved him off, but the beggar persisted.

DeMontagne feeling oddly generous for once in his life, rolled down his window once the bum was done and handed him a ten dollar bill.

"Thank you, sir," said the beggar, "that's very generous of you."

"No problem my friend. You have a nice day," replied DeMontagne. He tried to roll the window back up, but the bum's hand blocked it midway.

"Sir," said the beggar, his voice changing into a too familiar one, "you forgot your change."

DeMontagne snapped his head to the side in time to see the bum drop the grenade into his lap. His eyes shot wide and his hands fumbled for the black round object which slipped down and rolled under his seat. One second. Two seconds. Three…

"Merde!" he yelled.

The car blew up like a fireball bursting out of hell. The whole street turned around to watch in awe as it flew up and back down, carrying the rapidly blackening remains of the Frenchman. Everyone quickly crowded toward the car, except for one bum who calmly walked away through a nearby alley, discarding his clothes as he went.

Finally, Xander pulled off the fake beard and the wig. He turned around to catch a glimpse of the burning inferno, and smiled. He didn't know why, nor did he want to, but he knew tomorrow would bring no guilt this time.

COMING NOT SO SOON!!!  

BETWEEN SHADOWS SEASON I    TWO PARTS   FINALE

Episode VII      UNFORGIVEN…

Episode VIII    …AND NOTHING ELSE MATTERS