CHAPTER 5
On the way back to Giles' house from the hospital, Giles explained the situation to Xander and Tara, including the fact that Xander's name was on Walpurgis' list of people to be turned into vampires. Giles expected that the news would upset Xander, and it certainly did.
"That's just great," Xander said. "Walpurgis wants to make me a vampire, but she puts me twenty-third on a list of thirty, so I feel both threatened AND unappreciated." He paused. "It's kind of like having Cordelia back."
"Have a look," Giles said, handing the papers to Xander. "Do you recognize any of the other names?"
Xander's eyes widened. "Oh, God."
"What?" Giles asked.
"This guy near the top of the list is an engineer," Xander said, "and the rest are in construction. I've worked with most of 'em."
"That makes sense," Tara responded. "If Walpurgis wants to build a big underground city, she'll need lots of workers."
"And with the supernatural strength and endurance they will have as vampires," Giles added, "they'll get the job done in short order."
"We've gotta warn them," Xander said.
They pulled into the driveway of Giles' apartment complex. Xander hopped out first and ran inside to start calling his endangered colleagues. Tara walked in with Giles.
"Did Xander tell you about Faith's condition?" Giles asked her. Tara nodded.
They walked in the front door. Sarah was sitting in Giles' easy chair in the living room, while a doped-up Faith was sprawled on the couch.
"Sarah believes it will take Faith at least a week to heal," Giles continued. "By which time Walpurgis and her minions will have dug themselves in. Literally and figuratively."
"I…I might know a healing spell that could speed things up," Tara volunteered skittishly.
"I was rather hoping you'd say that," replied Giles with a slight smile.
Xander, who had just finished his first phone call in the kitchen, looked over the counter at Tara. "Wait a sec. If you have some kind of get-well alacazam, why haven't you used it on Willow?"
"Well-" Tara began awkwardly, trying to think of how to explain it. "The spell promotes life and growth," Tara answered. "If I used it on Willow, it might make her stronger, but it would do the same for her infection. The germs would get healthier and multiply faster."
Giles nodded, comprehending. "Which is why you never tried it on Joyce," he said.
"Right," Tara responded. "It would just have made her tumor bigger and harder to cure."
Faith looked up from the couch, eyes bleary. "Hey, if you got the healin' touch, lay it on me," she said.
"The thing is," Tara said cautiously, "it's going to hurt."
"How much?"
"About as much as it did when Walpurgis broke your legs-"
"I can take that," Faith interjected.
"-for about six straight hours," Tara finished.
"Oh," Faith said. "Okay, I'll just take some more of this nice oxy-something-or-other." She shook her little plastic bottle of pain pills, making the tablets rattle.
"No," Tara said. "Drugs will weaken the spell, or ruin it completely. You can't have anything foreign in your body while it's working."
"Crap," Faith muttered.
Sarah, looking pensive, said, "Faith, do you remember the time I hypnotized you?"
"Yeah," Faith said. "It was kind of cool. I 'magined I was on the beach, with waves and sun and Kahlua. Was like I was really there."
"Would you be willing to try it now?" Sarah said. "It might take you away from the pain for a little while. We could start the trance before your medication wears off."
"S'worth a shot," Faith answered.
"All right," Sarah said. She took the bottle of pills from Faith and looked at the dosage printed on the label. "We'll begin in half an hour."
-----
The half-hour had nearly elapsed when Xander finished his last phone call and emerged from the kitchen. "That's it," he said, "they've all been warned."
"What did you tell them?" Anya asked.
"Oh, about the vampires and the beheading and the upcoming human cattle drive."
Everyone stared.
"I'm kidding. I told them there were union-busting thugs going door to door, and not to invite anybody in."
"Good thinking," Giles said. He turned to Sarah. "Is it time?"
Sarah leaned over Faith and looked at her pupils. "I would say so, yes. But let's get her up to my room first – it's best to do this where there are few distractions."
"Quite right," Giles said. He and Xander moved to either end of the couch, lifted Faith up between them, and awkwardly carried her up the stairs to the guest room, trying not to bump her head or legs on the banister. Tara came into the room behind them just as they laid Faith on the bed. Faith grimaced a bit as they set her down; her medication was starting to wear off.
"All right, Faith," Sarah said. Her voice dropped into a low, soothing tone. "I'd like you to pick a spot on the wall, perhaps somewhere up near the ceiling, where you can fix your eyes. Just let your eyes rest on that spot. If the spot begins to move, or change color, that's all right, just keep your eyes on it as best you can.
Faith complied.
"Now," Sarah continued, "you may begin to notice your breathing..."
Giles had studied hypnosis as a part of his Watcher training, so he understood that Sarah was inducing a state of relaxation by fatiguing Faith's eyes and having her focus on her respiration. As Giles expected, Sarah then asked Faith to slow her breathing in order to relax her further. Sarah also slowed her own breathing to match the pace of Faith's, reinforcing Faith's sense of ease. Sarah's every word was a suggestion or a request, never a command.
Soon, Faith was gone, off to some perfect, faraway beach that existed only in her mind.
Xander, Giles and Sarah went quietly out of the room, leaving Tara to her work. She began a murmuring chant as they shut the door behind them.
A few minutes later, Tara joined the others in the living room. "It's started," she said. "As long as nothing goes wrong, she should be just about good as new by morning."
"I just hope her trance holds up that long," Sarah said. Giles looked at her questioningly. "Faith is only moderately susceptible to hypnosis. It helps somewhat that she has been hypnotized before and that she trusts me, but I couldn't take her into as deep a trance as would be ideal for blocking out this sort of intense pain."
"I don't see why you're all worried about THAT," Anya said. "Even if Faith is running and kicking again by the end of the day, Walpurgis will just mess her up some more. Maybe by chopping her arms off or scooping out her eyes or something permanent like that."
"Well," Giles said, glowering at Anya, "once we clear our heads of that ghastly imagery, we'll set about thinking of a plan."
"How about the Slayer Combo spell we used on Adam?" Xander suggested. "Not that I really want Bad-Hair-Slayer to rip out my heart and show it to me again, but as a guy who grew up without cable, I can watch a rerun if I have to."
"It won't work," Tara said. "The joining spell requires a strong bond among all four participants. There aren't any four people in this house who know one another that well. But...maybe..." Tara trailed off, looking pensively down at the coffee table.
"What?" prompted Sarah.
"There might be another spell that will work. It's not as powerful as the joining spell, but not as dangerous, either. It could make Faith a little faster, maybe more agile."
"I'm not sure I'm familiar with this spell," Giles asked. "Where did you come across it?"
"I didn't – it's, it's original. Willow and I have been working on it on and off since last summer, trying to find a way to boost Buffy's powers without invoking the First Slayer. We weren't making a lot of progress before Buffy died, and I kind of thought we were going to give up on it after that, but then Willow started working on it harder than ever. I think she's actually made it...doable. But-"
"Is this the part," Xander cut in, "when you tell us that the spell's never been tested, and that if it doesn't work it could blow us all to strawberry-jam-like bits?"
"I don't know what it could do. Blow us up, turn us into flatworms, or make us really thirsty for coyote blood. Or Zima."
"Eew," said Anya.
"And I don't know if I can do it without Willow," Tara said. "Her control is much better than mine."
"Nonetheless," Giles said, "we should certainly consider it. Faith is no match for Walpurgis without some sort of aid. Tara, what will you need for the spell?"
"Xander," she said.
"Excuse me?" said Anya. "Because if there's ritual sacrifice involved, I will not-"
"No, I mean I need Xander to help me get some of the components," Tara explained.
"No problem," Xander said.
"But you'll wait until morning, right?" Anya suggested. "I mean, there are construction-worker-eating monsters out there."
"I don't see why not," Giles said. "It will take Faith the rest of the night to heal. Besides, there is still the issue of figuring out where to find Walpurgis when the time is right."
"I've been thinking about that," Sarah said. "What about her swords?"
Giles smacked himself on the forehead. "Of course," he said.
Xander spoke up. "Can I take a moment to say 'Huh?'"
Giles turned to Xander. "While there are many manufacturers that make swords fit for hanging on one's living room wall, there are fewer which make swords of proper temper, weight, and balance for use in genuine combat. It seems unlikely that Walpurgis is using swords from her own time; they would never have survived her submergence. Therefore, it is probable that she obtained her weapons from one of a small number of modern sword-makers."
"If someone were to check their shipping records," Sarah added, "he or she could find Walpurgis' address."
"I could do that," Anya said. "I've watched Willow a few times, and she's got a whole bunch of security-cracking programs on her laptop. It looks easy as pie. Blueberry pie, I mean, not coconut cream pie, which is notoriously difficult."
"She's been reading Martha Stewart," Xander explained.
Before the conversation could steer further off track, Giles thrust Willow's laptop computer into Anya's hands. "Well," he said, "have at it. I'll give you the names of the sword makers."
Giles and Anya retreated to the kitchen, where there was both a phone jack and coffee, and went to work. Tara excused herself to look in on Willow, leaving Xander and Sarah alone in the living room.
"Perhaps we should try to get some rest," Sarah suggested.
"Sounds good," Xander said. "Take the couch. I'm fine with flooring it."
"That's kind of you," Sarah responded. She removed her shoes, set them neatly next to the couch, and laid back. Xander grabbed a stray pillow off the easy chair and, lying down on the living room rug, put the pillow under his head.
Still gazing up at the ceiling, Sarah said, "You know, Xander, you're a bit of a surprise to me."
"How's that?"
"Of all of Buffy's friends, I expected you to be the most resistant to having Faith here. And yet, when I reprimanded her for attacking Walpurgis prematurely, you were the first to come to her defense."
"I had to."
"Why?"
"She was trying to protect Willow."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I can't think of why else Faith would attack Walpurgis right then and there," Xander said. "And believe me, I tried. I considered every selfish, impulsive, or just plain psychotic reason I could come up with for Faith to jump Walpurgis up on the 4th floor, and there just wasn't one. Faith knew Walpurgis had killed Slayers before, but she tried to protect Willow anyway. Not that it makes up for all the bad stuff Faith's done, but...she's different. More in control, somehow, more – how do I put it? – sane. And if even Xander Harris, Sunnydale's reigning champion grudge-holder, can see that, then it's probably true."
"It appears Faith is not the only one who's changed," Sarah said.
Xander snorted.
"What?" said Sarah.
"I haven't changed. Not the way I want to."
"What do you mean?"
"Buffy," he said.
Sarah said nothing, waiting patiently for Xander to elaborate.
"It's like...like I keep having to tell myself that she's gone. Because every time I read something in the paper or see something on TV that I think she'd find interesting, I think, 'I have to remember to tell Buffy.' I think about going to a movie and I think, 'I wonder if Buffy would want to go.' And then I remember that she's dead. It's been a month, and I'm still doing it."
Sarah nodded. "The neurology of grief," she said.
"What?"
"As we get to know someone, we make connections in our minds between the person and all of the things we associate with them: their likes and dislikes, the places we go with them, the things we do together. We form a web of memories of events, places, and things, with the person we know at the center. The better we know them, the bigger and stronger the web. Even when that person is taken away, the web is still there, except that a new thread is added – one that leads to the memory that the person is gone."
Xander nodded. After a moment, he said, "So how do I untangle the damn thing?"
"Time is the only answer," Sarah replied. "Time thins the threads, moves them, changes the shape of the web. Eventually, not every strand leads to pain."
Xander looked up at the ceiling, taking this in.
"Well," Sarah breathed, "we'd best get some rest. Sleep well, Xander."
"Yeah. You too," Xander said.
Though most of the lights in the living room area were still on, Sarah turned off the lamp near the couch, then closed her eyes.
"Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Within a minute, they were both asleep.
----
She was half-asleep under the warm sun, hearing the deep sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a gull. The soft sand cushioned her through her towel, and she could almost hear the ice melting in her fuzzy navel, clinking gently against the cool, wet glass.
But there was something wrong. Somewhere, very far away, there was...ache. It was as if her legs were fifty feet long, extending from the shore into the cold ocean, so cold that her legs were nearly numb. But somewhere down there, where she couldn't see, there was deep, dull pain. It was like kneeling on thick, dull pieces of broken china, except the china was INSIDE her knees, replacing her kneecaps and the ends of the two bones that met there.
She tried to ignore it. She thought about the crashing waves, and the gulls, and maybe ordering another fuzzy navel. But all the while, those dull fragments in her legs were sharpening, forming edges and points that poked and sawed at her skin from the inside.
The places that had been cold and numb before were now getting uncomfortably warm. Little points of pain seared like candle flames inside each knee, growing into larger and larger circles of fire that melded into one another until the whole joint burned like an uninsulated section of hot steam pipe.
Unconsciously, she began to make sounds of pain. They were just soft whimpers at first, but they grew loud enough that she began to become aware of them. She tried to hold them down, keep them trapped behind her lips to avoid letting them out where others could hear. But they grew bigger, like balloons in her mouth, until they began to escape.
-----
Sarah had been asleep for nearly four hours when the voices woke her. Giles and Anya were whispering over the computer in the kitchen, but Anya was whispering so loudly that she might as well have not bothered.
Sarah unglued her eyelids from one another and blinked against the light that shone into the living room from the kitchen. She was just remembering where she was and why when Giles' head leaned over the couch.
"Sarah," Giles said quietly. "We've found something." Sarah sat up.
"About two months ago, somebody in Sunnydale bought half a dozen swords and a couple of shields by mail order," Anya called from the kitchen. "We've got the delivery address: 24 Tanglewylde Avenue."
Xander sat up from his prone position on the floor. "Wha-?" he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I know that address. That's Doc's house."
Tara, who was poring over magic books at the dining room table, looked up with alarm.
"Whose house?" asked Sarah.
"A demon," Giles explained, "who looks like a man. He worshipped Glory, before Buffy killed her."
"We never found him after Buffy threw him off the tower," Xander continued. "We searched his house the next day, but he'd moved out. We figured he just skipped town. If he hasn't…"
"Then Walpurgis has a powerful ally, and the situation is even worse than we realized," Giles finished.
"Just in case you were wondering if it COULD get worse," Xander commented to Sarah.
Everyone stopped speaking for a moment. In the near-silence, it was just possible to hear a low, pitiful moaning from somewhere upstairs.
"It seems Faith is awake," Giles said.
"Damn," Sarah said. "She's broken her trance. I was afraid she might."
"What do we do?" Tara asked.
"Mister Giles, if you could assist me," Sarah said. Giles nodded.
They walked upstairs and entered the guest room. Faith was sprawled on the bed, twisting in extreme discomfort, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her moans were getting louder. Sarah knew that, unless she did something soon, the moans would become screams.
Sarah turned to Giles. "Help her sit up," she said.
Sarah approached Faith's bed and took the Slayer's hand as Giles lifted her up by her shoulders to a sitting position. "Faith," Sarah said.
Faith opened her eyes. "Sarah," she said through clenched teeth. "God, it hu- hurts. It won't stop." A tear leaked from her eye.
"I know," Sarah said.
"I keep- I keep trying to fight it, but-" she winced "I...I..." She could form no more words, but simply shook her head, trembling with agony. Sarah felt an incredible swell of pity. Faith was never one to show or admit to discomfort; for her to do so now meant that the pain was truly unbearable.
Sarah squeezed Faith's hand. "Close your eyes," she said.
Giles gave Sarah a questioning look. Surely, under these circumstances, it would be impossible to re-hypnotize Faith. Her pain would never permit her to relax long enough to induce a trance.
Faith closed her eyes. Giles marveled at Faith's immediate and implicit trust in Sarah. In the year or so he had known her, Giles had never seen Faith rely on anyone for anything.
Sarah pulled back and punched Faith in the jaw as hard as she could. Faith's head snapped sideways, and Giles, startled, let her fall back onto the bed.
But Giles' surprise quickly melted into understanding. Faith would suffer no lasting damage from the blow, but the hour or two of unconsciousness could spare her a great deal of agony.
He hoped.
-----
It would have been very peaceful if it wasn't for all the racket.
Faith didn't know where the noise was coming from, but it sure was annoying. Here she was, floating around in space, minding her own business, just trying to maintain a nice, quiet coma. She used to be so good at that. But with all the hooha going on around here, even Sleeping Beauty would have been hard-pressed to get a decent nap going.
Slowly, and much against her will, Faith was dragged to a state of awareness. She realized that it was a huge crowd she heard, shouting something over and over. Curiosity closed its grip around her, and she tried to make out what they all were shouting, but the sound remained a formless, pulsating roar.
She opened her eyes and sat up. It seemed she was on a huge, grassy field. It was nighttime, and the grass was wet with dew that soaked uncomfortably through her sweat pants. The sensation drove away her weariness and made her stand up before she could get even damper than she already was.
Not far away was a dirt road lined with stones. The vast crowd covered the road's surface almost completely, parading along with torches and lanterns. Most of them carried weapons as well. There were Vikings with axes and chainmail, Medieval knights on horseback, Zulu warriors with spears and huge body shields, samurai in helmets and frightening steel masks, Redcoats with muskets and bayonets, rifle-bearing Marines. In short, fighting men and women from every nation and time period Faith could think of.
In the middle of the crowd, four muscular, shirtless, handsome young men carried a sedan chair. In the chair, waving like a queen, sat a small, young blonde woman. The moment Faith recognized her, she realized what the crowd was shouting.
"BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY!"
Faith stood watching as the crowd carried Buffy along like a golden leaf on the surface of a slow-moving river. Though the crowd and the noise were immense, and though Faith made no attempt to draw attention to herself, Buffy looked over and met Faith's eyes with her own.
Buffy raised her hand. The parade stopped, and the shouts died away to whispers.
The blonde Slayer made a lowering gesture to the men who carried her, and they gently placed her sedan chair on the ground. Buffy stood and approached Faith. There was a slight smile on her face, almost a smirk.
"Where are we?" Faith asked.
"Valhalla," Buffy replied, gesturing at their surroundings. "Home of fallen heroes. We're on our way to the great hall for a feast in my honor." Faith nodded, having read about Valhalla in some comic book or other as a child.
"Nice," Faith said. "
"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I'm glad you got to see it this once."
"What do you mean, 'this once'?" Faith said, her brow furrowing.
"Well, you don't think YOU'LL end up here, do you?" Buffy said, laughing as if Faith had said something terribly foolish. "I mean, I killed a hell god and gave my life to save the world. What have you done lately?"
"I've done some stuff," Faith said defensively.
"Let's check your score," Buffy mused, looking upward as if at some invisible scoreboard. "In the last year, you've killed two vampires – though I'd hardly count that easy one at the cemetery – a few demons, and some miscellaneous ghosts and goblins that Wesley, and I mean the old Wesley, could have handled by himself. Not too impressive."
"Hey, you should see this vamp I just fought," Faith said. "She's badder than any vampire YOU'VE ever seen."
"Oh, you mean the one that kicked your ass without even breaking a sweat? That was really impressive, the way you lay on the ground and hit her in the feet with your knees."
Faith was about to issue a nasty reply, but stopped herself short. There was something weird about this situation, and it wasn't just the torch-wielding cast of thousands. Then it hit her.
"You're not Buffy," Faith said.
Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"She's not this big of an asshole," Faith elaborated.
"Sure, I'm Buffy," the blonde said. "I'm YOUR Buffy. I'm the way you always saw her: all high and mighty, gets all the breaks, doesn't have to do anything and everyone loves her."
"I don't see her that way anymore," Faith said. "She's got problems, just like everybody. Now go away and let me talk to her."
Suddenly, Buffy's whole demeanor changed. The smirk vanished, and her expression became deadly serious.
"Faith, listen to me," she said.
"That's why I'm here, right?" Faith said. "So you can tell me how to beat Walpurgis?"
"You can't," Buffy said.
"What?" Faith said. "Come on, there's got to be something. A weakness – something she's afraid of, something she can't do, some mistake I can get her to make."
"There isn't," Buffy said. "God, just when I thought you'd changed."
"Huh?"
"You have to stop thinking this way."
Buffy stepped back towards a patch of dirt that lay between the grass and the road. With the toe of her sandal, she drew a line in the dirt. Then stepped back a few more feet, drew a longer line, and stood behind it.
"How do you make my line shorter than yours?" Buffy said.
"That's easy," Faith said. She walked up to Buffy's line and drew back her foot to wipe away part of it.
Buffy kicked Faith in the face. Faith flew back and landed butt-first on the ground behind her own line.
"Ow!" Faith yelled. "It's bad enough that my legs are broke, now you've got to knock me around in my dreams?"
"Forget it," Buffy said. She waved her hand again, and the sound of the cheering crowd returned to full volume. Then she turned away and walked back towards her sedan chair.
What the hell? Faith thought.
She looked down at her own line in the dirt, then looked up again.
"BUFFY!" Faith yelled at the top of her lungs. Apparently, it was loud enough to get Buffy's attention even through the roar of the crowd. Buffy turned around and looked towards Faith.
With the toe of her sneaker, Faith added to her own line until it was longer than Buffy's.
Buffy jogged back towards Faith. She was smiling.
"You can beat her," Buffy said.
"What? You just said I COULDN'T beat her," Faith said.
"Second-person-singular-you can't beat her," Buffy explained. "Second-person-plural-you might have a chance. But the key is trust."
Faith frowned. "I don't think any of your Scooby pals trusts me much."
"I meant you," Buffy said.
"You're saying _I_ need to trust THEM?"
"Completely. With your life. Because that's the only way you're going to keep it. And you have to trust yourself, too."
Faith looked up at the sky, frustrated. "Okay, you're losing me," she said. She looked down-
Buffy was gone.
The crowd, too, had vanished, leaving Faith standing alone by the side of the ancient road. The only sound was that of the grass, ruffled by a mild night breeze.
"I hate this Slayer dream crap," Faith muttered. She sat down in the dirt, and waited to wake up.
-----
Giles had nearly nodded off in his easy chair when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked up and saw Tara.
"How is Willow?," he whispered, not wanting to wake Sarah and Anya, who were still dozing. Xander was in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
"Not good," Tara said. "She has a fever again, and her color is terrible. She needs to go back to the hospital."
"She can't," Giles said. "Walpurgis will find her there. A private residence is the only place where Willow is safe from her."
Xander came back into the living room. "Maybe not," he said through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. Tara and Giles looked at him curiously.
"Look, I've been to Sunnydale General more times than I've been to church," Xander went on. "I've gotten to know the place pretty well. I think maybe we can keep Willow safe there, and take out Walpurgis while we're at it."
"How?" Tara said.
"Yes," Giles agreed. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying – and let me preface this with 'God help us all' – I have a plan."
END CHAPTER 5
On the way back to Giles' house from the hospital, Giles explained the situation to Xander and Tara, including the fact that Xander's name was on Walpurgis' list of people to be turned into vampires. Giles expected that the news would upset Xander, and it certainly did.
"That's just great," Xander said. "Walpurgis wants to make me a vampire, but she puts me twenty-third on a list of thirty, so I feel both threatened AND unappreciated." He paused. "It's kind of like having Cordelia back."
"Have a look," Giles said, handing the papers to Xander. "Do you recognize any of the other names?"
Xander's eyes widened. "Oh, God."
"What?" Giles asked.
"This guy near the top of the list is an engineer," Xander said, "and the rest are in construction. I've worked with most of 'em."
"That makes sense," Tara responded. "If Walpurgis wants to build a big underground city, she'll need lots of workers."
"And with the supernatural strength and endurance they will have as vampires," Giles added, "they'll get the job done in short order."
"We've gotta warn them," Xander said.
They pulled into the driveway of Giles' apartment complex. Xander hopped out first and ran inside to start calling his endangered colleagues. Tara walked in with Giles.
"Did Xander tell you about Faith's condition?" Giles asked her. Tara nodded.
They walked in the front door. Sarah was sitting in Giles' easy chair in the living room, while a doped-up Faith was sprawled on the couch.
"Sarah believes it will take Faith at least a week to heal," Giles continued. "By which time Walpurgis and her minions will have dug themselves in. Literally and figuratively."
"I…I might know a healing spell that could speed things up," Tara volunteered skittishly.
"I was rather hoping you'd say that," replied Giles with a slight smile.
Xander, who had just finished his first phone call in the kitchen, looked over the counter at Tara. "Wait a sec. If you have some kind of get-well alacazam, why haven't you used it on Willow?"
"Well-" Tara began awkwardly, trying to think of how to explain it. "The spell promotes life and growth," Tara answered. "If I used it on Willow, it might make her stronger, but it would do the same for her infection. The germs would get healthier and multiply faster."
Giles nodded, comprehending. "Which is why you never tried it on Joyce," he said.
"Right," Tara responded. "It would just have made her tumor bigger and harder to cure."
Faith looked up from the couch, eyes bleary. "Hey, if you got the healin' touch, lay it on me," she said.
"The thing is," Tara said cautiously, "it's going to hurt."
"How much?"
"About as much as it did when Walpurgis broke your legs-"
"I can take that," Faith interjected.
"-for about six straight hours," Tara finished.
"Oh," Faith said. "Okay, I'll just take some more of this nice oxy-something-or-other." She shook her little plastic bottle of pain pills, making the tablets rattle.
"No," Tara said. "Drugs will weaken the spell, or ruin it completely. You can't have anything foreign in your body while it's working."
"Crap," Faith muttered.
Sarah, looking pensive, said, "Faith, do you remember the time I hypnotized you?"
"Yeah," Faith said. "It was kind of cool. I 'magined I was on the beach, with waves and sun and Kahlua. Was like I was really there."
"Would you be willing to try it now?" Sarah said. "It might take you away from the pain for a little while. We could start the trance before your medication wears off."
"S'worth a shot," Faith answered.
"All right," Sarah said. She took the bottle of pills from Faith and looked at the dosage printed on the label. "We'll begin in half an hour."
-----
The half-hour had nearly elapsed when Xander finished his last phone call and emerged from the kitchen. "That's it," he said, "they've all been warned."
"What did you tell them?" Anya asked.
"Oh, about the vampires and the beheading and the upcoming human cattle drive."
Everyone stared.
"I'm kidding. I told them there were union-busting thugs going door to door, and not to invite anybody in."
"Good thinking," Giles said. He turned to Sarah. "Is it time?"
Sarah leaned over Faith and looked at her pupils. "I would say so, yes. But let's get her up to my room first – it's best to do this where there are few distractions."
"Quite right," Giles said. He and Xander moved to either end of the couch, lifted Faith up between them, and awkwardly carried her up the stairs to the guest room, trying not to bump her head or legs on the banister. Tara came into the room behind them just as they laid Faith on the bed. Faith grimaced a bit as they set her down; her medication was starting to wear off.
"All right, Faith," Sarah said. Her voice dropped into a low, soothing tone. "I'd like you to pick a spot on the wall, perhaps somewhere up near the ceiling, where you can fix your eyes. Just let your eyes rest on that spot. If the spot begins to move, or change color, that's all right, just keep your eyes on it as best you can.
Faith complied.
"Now," Sarah continued, "you may begin to notice your breathing..."
Giles had studied hypnosis as a part of his Watcher training, so he understood that Sarah was inducing a state of relaxation by fatiguing Faith's eyes and having her focus on her respiration. As Giles expected, Sarah then asked Faith to slow her breathing in order to relax her further. Sarah also slowed her own breathing to match the pace of Faith's, reinforcing Faith's sense of ease. Sarah's every word was a suggestion or a request, never a command.
Soon, Faith was gone, off to some perfect, faraway beach that existed only in her mind.
Xander, Giles and Sarah went quietly out of the room, leaving Tara to her work. She began a murmuring chant as they shut the door behind them.
A few minutes later, Tara joined the others in the living room. "It's started," she said. "As long as nothing goes wrong, she should be just about good as new by morning."
"I just hope her trance holds up that long," Sarah said. Giles looked at her questioningly. "Faith is only moderately susceptible to hypnosis. It helps somewhat that she has been hypnotized before and that she trusts me, but I couldn't take her into as deep a trance as would be ideal for blocking out this sort of intense pain."
"I don't see why you're all worried about THAT," Anya said. "Even if Faith is running and kicking again by the end of the day, Walpurgis will just mess her up some more. Maybe by chopping her arms off or scooping out her eyes or something permanent like that."
"Well," Giles said, glowering at Anya, "once we clear our heads of that ghastly imagery, we'll set about thinking of a plan."
"How about the Slayer Combo spell we used on Adam?" Xander suggested. "Not that I really want Bad-Hair-Slayer to rip out my heart and show it to me again, but as a guy who grew up without cable, I can watch a rerun if I have to."
"It won't work," Tara said. "The joining spell requires a strong bond among all four participants. There aren't any four people in this house who know one another that well. But...maybe..." Tara trailed off, looking pensively down at the coffee table.
"What?" prompted Sarah.
"There might be another spell that will work. It's not as powerful as the joining spell, but not as dangerous, either. It could make Faith a little faster, maybe more agile."
"I'm not sure I'm familiar with this spell," Giles asked. "Where did you come across it?"
"I didn't – it's, it's original. Willow and I have been working on it on and off since last summer, trying to find a way to boost Buffy's powers without invoking the First Slayer. We weren't making a lot of progress before Buffy died, and I kind of thought we were going to give up on it after that, but then Willow started working on it harder than ever. I think she's actually made it...doable. But-"
"Is this the part," Xander cut in, "when you tell us that the spell's never been tested, and that if it doesn't work it could blow us all to strawberry-jam-like bits?"
"I don't know what it could do. Blow us up, turn us into flatworms, or make us really thirsty for coyote blood. Or Zima."
"Eew," said Anya.
"And I don't know if I can do it without Willow," Tara said. "Her control is much better than mine."
"Nonetheless," Giles said, "we should certainly consider it. Faith is no match for Walpurgis without some sort of aid. Tara, what will you need for the spell?"
"Xander," she said.
"Excuse me?" said Anya. "Because if there's ritual sacrifice involved, I will not-"
"No, I mean I need Xander to help me get some of the components," Tara explained.
"No problem," Xander said.
"But you'll wait until morning, right?" Anya suggested. "I mean, there are construction-worker-eating monsters out there."
"I don't see why not," Giles said. "It will take Faith the rest of the night to heal. Besides, there is still the issue of figuring out where to find Walpurgis when the time is right."
"I've been thinking about that," Sarah said. "What about her swords?"
Giles smacked himself on the forehead. "Of course," he said.
Xander spoke up. "Can I take a moment to say 'Huh?'"
Giles turned to Xander. "While there are many manufacturers that make swords fit for hanging on one's living room wall, there are fewer which make swords of proper temper, weight, and balance for use in genuine combat. It seems unlikely that Walpurgis is using swords from her own time; they would never have survived her submergence. Therefore, it is probable that she obtained her weapons from one of a small number of modern sword-makers."
"If someone were to check their shipping records," Sarah added, "he or she could find Walpurgis' address."
"I could do that," Anya said. "I've watched Willow a few times, and she's got a whole bunch of security-cracking programs on her laptop. It looks easy as pie. Blueberry pie, I mean, not coconut cream pie, which is notoriously difficult."
"She's been reading Martha Stewart," Xander explained.
Before the conversation could steer further off track, Giles thrust Willow's laptop computer into Anya's hands. "Well," he said, "have at it. I'll give you the names of the sword makers."
Giles and Anya retreated to the kitchen, where there was both a phone jack and coffee, and went to work. Tara excused herself to look in on Willow, leaving Xander and Sarah alone in the living room.
"Perhaps we should try to get some rest," Sarah suggested.
"Sounds good," Xander said. "Take the couch. I'm fine with flooring it."
"That's kind of you," Sarah responded. She removed her shoes, set them neatly next to the couch, and laid back. Xander grabbed a stray pillow off the easy chair and, lying down on the living room rug, put the pillow under his head.
Still gazing up at the ceiling, Sarah said, "You know, Xander, you're a bit of a surprise to me."
"How's that?"
"Of all of Buffy's friends, I expected you to be the most resistant to having Faith here. And yet, when I reprimanded her for attacking Walpurgis prematurely, you were the first to come to her defense."
"I had to."
"Why?"
"She was trying to protect Willow."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I can't think of why else Faith would attack Walpurgis right then and there," Xander said. "And believe me, I tried. I considered every selfish, impulsive, or just plain psychotic reason I could come up with for Faith to jump Walpurgis up on the 4th floor, and there just wasn't one. Faith knew Walpurgis had killed Slayers before, but she tried to protect Willow anyway. Not that it makes up for all the bad stuff Faith's done, but...she's different. More in control, somehow, more – how do I put it? – sane. And if even Xander Harris, Sunnydale's reigning champion grudge-holder, can see that, then it's probably true."
"It appears Faith is not the only one who's changed," Sarah said.
Xander snorted.
"What?" said Sarah.
"I haven't changed. Not the way I want to."
"What do you mean?"
"Buffy," he said.
Sarah said nothing, waiting patiently for Xander to elaborate.
"It's like...like I keep having to tell myself that she's gone. Because every time I read something in the paper or see something on TV that I think she'd find interesting, I think, 'I have to remember to tell Buffy.' I think about going to a movie and I think, 'I wonder if Buffy would want to go.' And then I remember that she's dead. It's been a month, and I'm still doing it."
Sarah nodded. "The neurology of grief," she said.
"What?"
"As we get to know someone, we make connections in our minds between the person and all of the things we associate with them: their likes and dislikes, the places we go with them, the things we do together. We form a web of memories of events, places, and things, with the person we know at the center. The better we know them, the bigger and stronger the web. Even when that person is taken away, the web is still there, except that a new thread is added – one that leads to the memory that the person is gone."
Xander nodded. After a moment, he said, "So how do I untangle the damn thing?"
"Time is the only answer," Sarah replied. "Time thins the threads, moves them, changes the shape of the web. Eventually, not every strand leads to pain."
Xander looked up at the ceiling, taking this in.
"Well," Sarah breathed, "we'd best get some rest. Sleep well, Xander."
"Yeah. You too," Xander said.
Though most of the lights in the living room area were still on, Sarah turned off the lamp near the couch, then closed her eyes.
"Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Within a minute, they were both asleep.
----
She was half-asleep under the warm sun, hearing the deep sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a gull. The soft sand cushioned her through her towel, and she could almost hear the ice melting in her fuzzy navel, clinking gently against the cool, wet glass.
But there was something wrong. Somewhere, very far away, there was...ache. It was as if her legs were fifty feet long, extending from the shore into the cold ocean, so cold that her legs were nearly numb. But somewhere down there, where she couldn't see, there was deep, dull pain. It was like kneeling on thick, dull pieces of broken china, except the china was INSIDE her knees, replacing her kneecaps and the ends of the two bones that met there.
She tried to ignore it. She thought about the crashing waves, and the gulls, and maybe ordering another fuzzy navel. But all the while, those dull fragments in her legs were sharpening, forming edges and points that poked and sawed at her skin from the inside.
The places that had been cold and numb before were now getting uncomfortably warm. Little points of pain seared like candle flames inside each knee, growing into larger and larger circles of fire that melded into one another until the whole joint burned like an uninsulated section of hot steam pipe.
Unconsciously, she began to make sounds of pain. They were just soft whimpers at first, but they grew loud enough that she began to become aware of them. She tried to hold them down, keep them trapped behind her lips to avoid letting them out where others could hear. But they grew bigger, like balloons in her mouth, until they began to escape.
-----
Sarah had been asleep for nearly four hours when the voices woke her. Giles and Anya were whispering over the computer in the kitchen, but Anya was whispering so loudly that she might as well have not bothered.
Sarah unglued her eyelids from one another and blinked against the light that shone into the living room from the kitchen. She was just remembering where she was and why when Giles' head leaned over the couch.
"Sarah," Giles said quietly. "We've found something." Sarah sat up.
"About two months ago, somebody in Sunnydale bought half a dozen swords and a couple of shields by mail order," Anya called from the kitchen. "We've got the delivery address: 24 Tanglewylde Avenue."
Xander sat up from his prone position on the floor. "Wha-?" he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I know that address. That's Doc's house."
Tara, who was poring over magic books at the dining room table, looked up with alarm.
"Whose house?" asked Sarah.
"A demon," Giles explained, "who looks like a man. He worshipped Glory, before Buffy killed her."
"We never found him after Buffy threw him off the tower," Xander continued. "We searched his house the next day, but he'd moved out. We figured he just skipped town. If he hasn't…"
"Then Walpurgis has a powerful ally, and the situation is even worse than we realized," Giles finished.
"Just in case you were wondering if it COULD get worse," Xander commented to Sarah.
Everyone stopped speaking for a moment. In the near-silence, it was just possible to hear a low, pitiful moaning from somewhere upstairs.
"It seems Faith is awake," Giles said.
"Damn," Sarah said. "She's broken her trance. I was afraid she might."
"What do we do?" Tara asked.
"Mister Giles, if you could assist me," Sarah said. Giles nodded.
They walked upstairs and entered the guest room. Faith was sprawled on the bed, twisting in extreme discomfort, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her moans were getting louder. Sarah knew that, unless she did something soon, the moans would become screams.
Sarah turned to Giles. "Help her sit up," she said.
Sarah approached Faith's bed and took the Slayer's hand as Giles lifted her up by her shoulders to a sitting position. "Faith," Sarah said.
Faith opened her eyes. "Sarah," she said through clenched teeth. "God, it hu- hurts. It won't stop." A tear leaked from her eye.
"I know," Sarah said.
"I keep- I keep trying to fight it, but-" she winced "I...I..." She could form no more words, but simply shook her head, trembling with agony. Sarah felt an incredible swell of pity. Faith was never one to show or admit to discomfort; for her to do so now meant that the pain was truly unbearable.
Sarah squeezed Faith's hand. "Close your eyes," she said.
Giles gave Sarah a questioning look. Surely, under these circumstances, it would be impossible to re-hypnotize Faith. Her pain would never permit her to relax long enough to induce a trance.
Faith closed her eyes. Giles marveled at Faith's immediate and implicit trust in Sarah. In the year or so he had known her, Giles had never seen Faith rely on anyone for anything.
Sarah pulled back and punched Faith in the jaw as hard as she could. Faith's head snapped sideways, and Giles, startled, let her fall back onto the bed.
But Giles' surprise quickly melted into understanding. Faith would suffer no lasting damage from the blow, but the hour or two of unconsciousness could spare her a great deal of agony.
He hoped.
-----
It would have been very peaceful if it wasn't for all the racket.
Faith didn't know where the noise was coming from, but it sure was annoying. Here she was, floating around in space, minding her own business, just trying to maintain a nice, quiet coma. She used to be so good at that. But with all the hooha going on around here, even Sleeping Beauty would have been hard-pressed to get a decent nap going.
Slowly, and much against her will, Faith was dragged to a state of awareness. She realized that it was a huge crowd she heard, shouting something over and over. Curiosity closed its grip around her, and she tried to make out what they all were shouting, but the sound remained a formless, pulsating roar.
She opened her eyes and sat up. It seemed she was on a huge, grassy field. It was nighttime, and the grass was wet with dew that soaked uncomfortably through her sweat pants. The sensation drove away her weariness and made her stand up before she could get even damper than she already was.
Not far away was a dirt road lined with stones. The vast crowd covered the road's surface almost completely, parading along with torches and lanterns. Most of them carried weapons as well. There were Vikings with axes and chainmail, Medieval knights on horseback, Zulu warriors with spears and huge body shields, samurai in helmets and frightening steel masks, Redcoats with muskets and bayonets, rifle-bearing Marines. In short, fighting men and women from every nation and time period Faith could think of.
In the middle of the crowd, four muscular, shirtless, handsome young men carried a sedan chair. In the chair, waving like a queen, sat a small, young blonde woman. The moment Faith recognized her, she realized what the crowd was shouting.
"BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY! BUF-FY!"
Faith stood watching as the crowd carried Buffy along like a golden leaf on the surface of a slow-moving river. Though the crowd and the noise were immense, and though Faith made no attempt to draw attention to herself, Buffy looked over and met Faith's eyes with her own.
Buffy raised her hand. The parade stopped, and the shouts died away to whispers.
The blonde Slayer made a lowering gesture to the men who carried her, and they gently placed her sedan chair on the ground. Buffy stood and approached Faith. There was a slight smile on her face, almost a smirk.
"Where are we?" Faith asked.
"Valhalla," Buffy replied, gesturing at their surroundings. "Home of fallen heroes. We're on our way to the great hall for a feast in my honor." Faith nodded, having read about Valhalla in some comic book or other as a child.
"Nice," Faith said. "
"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I'm glad you got to see it this once."
"What do you mean, 'this once'?" Faith said, her brow furrowing.
"Well, you don't think YOU'LL end up here, do you?" Buffy said, laughing as if Faith had said something terribly foolish. "I mean, I killed a hell god and gave my life to save the world. What have you done lately?"
"I've done some stuff," Faith said defensively.
"Let's check your score," Buffy mused, looking upward as if at some invisible scoreboard. "In the last year, you've killed two vampires – though I'd hardly count that easy one at the cemetery – a few demons, and some miscellaneous ghosts and goblins that Wesley, and I mean the old Wesley, could have handled by himself. Not too impressive."
"Hey, you should see this vamp I just fought," Faith said. "She's badder than any vampire YOU'VE ever seen."
"Oh, you mean the one that kicked your ass without even breaking a sweat? That was really impressive, the way you lay on the ground and hit her in the feet with your knees."
Faith was about to issue a nasty reply, but stopped herself short. There was something weird about this situation, and it wasn't just the torch-wielding cast of thousands. Then it hit her.
"You're not Buffy," Faith said.
Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"She's not this big of an asshole," Faith elaborated.
"Sure, I'm Buffy," the blonde said. "I'm YOUR Buffy. I'm the way you always saw her: all high and mighty, gets all the breaks, doesn't have to do anything and everyone loves her."
"I don't see her that way anymore," Faith said. "She's got problems, just like everybody. Now go away and let me talk to her."
Suddenly, Buffy's whole demeanor changed. The smirk vanished, and her expression became deadly serious.
"Faith, listen to me," she said.
"That's why I'm here, right?" Faith said. "So you can tell me how to beat Walpurgis?"
"You can't," Buffy said.
"What?" Faith said. "Come on, there's got to be something. A weakness – something she's afraid of, something she can't do, some mistake I can get her to make."
"There isn't," Buffy said. "God, just when I thought you'd changed."
"Huh?"
"You have to stop thinking this way."
Buffy stepped back towards a patch of dirt that lay between the grass and the road. With the toe of her sandal, she drew a line in the dirt. Then stepped back a few more feet, drew a longer line, and stood behind it.
"How do you make my line shorter than yours?" Buffy said.
"That's easy," Faith said. She walked up to Buffy's line and drew back her foot to wipe away part of it.
Buffy kicked Faith in the face. Faith flew back and landed butt-first on the ground behind her own line.
"Ow!" Faith yelled. "It's bad enough that my legs are broke, now you've got to knock me around in my dreams?"
"Forget it," Buffy said. She waved her hand again, and the sound of the cheering crowd returned to full volume. Then she turned away and walked back towards her sedan chair.
What the hell? Faith thought.
She looked down at her own line in the dirt, then looked up again.
"BUFFY!" Faith yelled at the top of her lungs. Apparently, it was loud enough to get Buffy's attention even through the roar of the crowd. Buffy turned around and looked towards Faith.
With the toe of her sneaker, Faith added to her own line until it was longer than Buffy's.
Buffy jogged back towards Faith. She was smiling.
"You can beat her," Buffy said.
"What? You just said I COULDN'T beat her," Faith said.
"Second-person-singular-you can't beat her," Buffy explained. "Second-person-plural-you might have a chance. But the key is trust."
Faith frowned. "I don't think any of your Scooby pals trusts me much."
"I meant you," Buffy said.
"You're saying _I_ need to trust THEM?"
"Completely. With your life. Because that's the only way you're going to keep it. And you have to trust yourself, too."
Faith looked up at the sky, frustrated. "Okay, you're losing me," she said. She looked down-
Buffy was gone.
The crowd, too, had vanished, leaving Faith standing alone by the side of the ancient road. The only sound was that of the grass, ruffled by a mild night breeze.
"I hate this Slayer dream crap," Faith muttered. She sat down in the dirt, and waited to wake up.
-----
Giles had nearly nodded off in his easy chair when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked up and saw Tara.
"How is Willow?," he whispered, not wanting to wake Sarah and Anya, who were still dozing. Xander was in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
"Not good," Tara said. "She has a fever again, and her color is terrible. She needs to go back to the hospital."
"She can't," Giles said. "Walpurgis will find her there. A private residence is the only place where Willow is safe from her."
Xander came back into the living room. "Maybe not," he said through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. Tara and Giles looked at him curiously.
"Look, I've been to Sunnydale General more times than I've been to church," Xander went on. "I've gotten to know the place pretty well. I think maybe we can keep Willow safe there, and take out Walpurgis while we're at it."
"How?" Tara said.
"Yes," Giles agreed. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying – and let me preface this with 'God help us all' – I have a plan."
END CHAPTER 5