Title: Falling Toward Apotheosis
Rating: R
Author: Banquo
Email: [1]banquo@fanfiction.net
Summary: Xander and Faith have returned home after the events of "Leaves of Grass" but all is not as it seems. Dark dreams and plans set into motion allude to the danger that waits beyond the horizon.
Disclaimers: I own nothing except the story and all the characters I create in between. Buffy and all character related there in belong to Joss and Mutant enemy. While the concept of Immortality and all characters pertaining to Highlander belong to Panzer-Davis.
Archive: Go right ahead! Just email me a link where you plan on archiving my fic.
Though this story can stand on its own there are references to my first story so I strongly recommend that you read my first story "Leaves of Grass" which can be found at [2]www.fanfiction.net search for the title and it will appear on the top of the list. Or you can go [3]here directly to get to the story.
I had struggled a bit with this chapter since I was writing two distinctly different stories at the same time. While writing I found that I was focusing more on the other story rather than this one. So I stopped writing the other one and finished this chapter for my loyal readers. Thanks for the encouraging reviews; they really do motivate me to write more. I have yet to start on the next chapter, due to real life getting in the way last week (LA/OC Lindy Binge and work to name just two things), so I'm not sure when you can expect the next chapter. But rest assured I haven't given up on writing. So here you all go:
Chapter 5: Studies of Pain
In Sunnydale a particularly unlucky training dummy is on the receiving end of a rather brutal expulsion of anger. Giles flinches as hear hears the loud sounds as feet and fists connect with dummy.
Buffy did not take the news he had given her the night before very well. Actually that was a bit of an understatement, the term cold hatred would be the best term to use. When he told her what he had learned Buffy stood there a moment, her jaw clenched. It is a stance he had seen many times before. He saw it when Buffy had found out about those Angelus had killed. He saw it when she found out about those who were killed under her watch. He had seen it on his own face when he found out the Angelus had killed Ms. Calendar.
She probably had gotten the expression from him, he thinks.
When she had found out what the council had done to her she stood there, jaw clenched as if she were about to explode. However she quickly glanced over at Dawn, who had come downstairs to greet her sister, and her Mother and just nodded slowly before walking upstairs to her room. Giles was bout to go up and follow her to make sure that she was okay when he heard her voice come down the stairs.
"We're training early tomorrow?" She asked.
"Yes." Was his simple reply.
"Good."
Now looking at Buffy as she trained he knew why she had asked that question. She had quite a bit of anger to work out, anger she didn't want to come out while she was in front of her family. But here, in the sanctuary of the training room she could freely work out that anger the way she knew best.
Through fighting.
True she didn't really have much in the way of opponents, but the training dummy would suffice this morning, as it has for the past two hours. Buffy was still going strong but he could tell that the purpose for her fervor had subtly changed over the past few minutes.
Giles decided that it was time to put an end to the training session.
"Buffy."
Buffy continues to punch and kick the dummy, not hearing Giles call her name.
"Buffy." He calls again.
Buffy performs and inside crescent kick, connecting with the dummy's head, quickly setting up for a back hand fist to follow up the kick.
Giles stands up and walks over to her. There was only one way to get her attention, but he had to be very careful in the way he did it. He looked at the part of the routine that Buffy was in, gauging her rhythm and movement.
Seeing his opportunity he gently places a hand on her shoulder and calls her name again, "Buffy."
Knowing what her reaction would be he let his hand slide down slightly as he backs away just out of reach from the backhand aimed at his head. Using his hand he pushes her arm past him using her own momentum to knock her safely of balance forcing her to disengage as she regained her footing.
Just as she recovers eyes blazing Giles calls out her name one more time.
"Buffy."
Just as fast as her anger had flared up it was gone, once she realized that it was Giles who had interrupted her training regimen.
"Giles? Jeez! You know better than to do that Giles, I could have hurt you!"
A small knowing smile tugs on the corners of his mouth before he answers, "Somehow I doubt that. But I think it's time to stop for today."
"What do you mean, I was just getting started." Buffy complains.
"Precisely why I wanted you to stop."
"What?" Buffy asks.
"Come on let's sit."
Buffy sits on one of the benches as Giles pulls a chair up and places it in front of her sitting down.
Curious Buffy asks Giles, "What's up?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing. How are you feeling?"
"I'm just peachy." She answers brightly. Seeing the look on Giles' face however she amends her answer. "To tell you the truth, not very well. I mean physically I'm fine, I'm just..."
"Angry?" Giles finishes for her.
"Yeah." She says before taking a deep breath and continuing. "When you told me what you had found out I was furious. A thousand things went through my head in the span of a few seconds and I didn't know how to deal with it. I wanted to scream, yell, I wanted to go out and patrol some more just to find something to take my anger out on them. But I couldn't, not in front of my family."
"So you decided to wait until our morning training session to let loose some of your anger?" He asks her.
"Yeah, and I was doing a good job of it too before you stopped me." She says with a slight pout.
Giles takes his glasses off for a moment and wipes a smudge from the lens. He doesn't look up at her as he says, "That may work with your mother, maybe even the others, but it won't work with me."
When he puts he glasses on he sees the confused look on Buffy's face. "That may have been your intention when you started out but that changed. So let me ask you again, how are you feeling?"
The second he finished he could see Buffy's entire demeanor change. She had a look of defeat about her that she would never show in front of the others, not even her mother. But he had seen it many times, he was the only one that she would allow to see her like this, vunerable.
"I'm scared Giles."
"Of what? The Council?"
"No...I mean yes..."
"Buffy, talk to me."
"I mean that I am scared of what the Council is capable of, but there is something else that I'm scared of."
"And that would be?"
"Dying." She says simply.
Giles looks at her with a look of shock, he knew something was frightening the young woman but he had no idea that this would be what is bothering her.
"Buffy, everyone is afraid of dying, Slayers even more so because of the dangers they face every night."
"No I'm not afraid of dying in the sense of death. I'm afraid that if I should die, everything that is important to me, all those I care about, who'll take care of them? I mean I'm supposed to protect them, how am I supposed to do that if I die? Without me around they'd be east prey for the next monster that comes by, human or otherwise."
"Buffy, the next Slayer..."
"Won't be trained by you." She says with finality and a reserve that surprises him. "You're a major reason why I lasted this long Giles, you may not think it but it's true. You let me have friends, you let me have a life, you let others help me, you helped giving me a reason and motivation to go out there every night and do what my destiny has called me to do. Giles, I know that you might not think this but without you I would have died long ago."
Momentarily shocked Giles' modesty allows him to recover quickly, "I assure you Buffy you are overstating my importance just a little..."
"No I'm not Giles. I was lucky when it came to Watchers; Travers is a good example of what the Council represents. If he had been my Watcher I would have died long ago."
For a rare moment in his life Giles has nothing to say.
"Giles, what happens to the families and the loved ones of a Slayer when she dies? What happens to them?"
Shaken out of his reverie Giles answers, "Truthfully? I don't know. Slayers never had families or friends before. They are considered distractions to the duties of the Slayer and her Watcher."
"So no one knows what will happen to them if I die?" She asks quietly.
"No, but I can tell you what I think will happen. First, I think that you will live long enough to see your family for a long time to come. Second, even if you died I would personally see to it that your mother and Dawn are taken care of. I would leave the Watchers and stay here in Sunnydale or wherever they went to make sure that they were okay. Third, your friends are some of the most capable people I have ever met, brave, selfless and most of all fearless. You don't have to worry too much about them. They will live their lives and they will meet their ends on their terms."
She smiles slightly as she tells him, "You make it sound as if you guys don't need me."
"No Buffy, that is far from the truth. We need you in our lives just as you need us in yours, but we don't need you as a protector. We need you here as a friend," Giles stands up and sits next to her on the bench and puts an arm around her shoulders, "and as a daughter."
She doesn't say anything as she leans into him, the man who has become her father, the man who has come to be her protector over the years.
"Now you better go and get cleaned up, I've got to open the shop soon and you and your sister can help with the shipment that is coming in this morning."
She nods as she gets up and picks up her bag. As she exits the room Giles gets up and walks over to one of the windows looking out at the cloudy sky above.
"We'll get through this. We have to."
...
Freedom is a strange thing. For so many throughout the ages it is something that many have fought and died for. Freedom from oppression, freedom from tyranny, the freedom to express oneself, the freedom to practice religion, freedom is something that has been applied to many a thing. But freedom itself is a funny concept.
Like many of the intangibles in life it is something that cannot be expressed in any one term other than itself. But for some freedom is a much simpler thing to know than the complexities of God given rights. For some it is simply a release. A release from the boundaries and the cages that entrap them, sometimes they self-created boundaries, but most of the time they are boundaries that hold many against their will.
Many, however take their freedom so lightly, taking for granted the ability to come and go as they please. They take for granted the intangible thing that has been handed to them on a silver platter.
For the Master however freedom is something he vows never to take for granted ever again. The Master muses about his newly gained freedom, how does one apply an intangible thing to a being that is equally intangible? He likens the comparison to giving form to air, it is something that goes against the logically mind. Then again, that depends on the logic that ones mind applies to the situation.
He can hear the confusion from the other consciousness he is sharing his current vessel with. He quickly dismisses it as he continues on completing the task at hand. Killing.
Actually the task at hand is more of the aftermath of killing, more of a morbid rearrangement. The actual killing had taken place a few hours ago. Everything now was just the little extra that always brought a flare to things.
Now like many skills, killing and death is an art. Like many art forms there are subtle differences from one artist to the next. Each picture painted, ever sculpture created, every portion of the piece is insight into the mind and psyche of the artist. Every artist had tendencies that gave subtle clues and hints as to their background, their mode of thinking, just enough to single out what made the artist who they are today.
Art critics are able to pick these subtleties out, differentiating each artist from the others. The critics he hopes to catch the attention of with this work however are a bit different. In this time they are called profilers, men and women who have the ability to crawl into the minds of killers, psychopaths they call them, and see what makes them tick.
He chuckles as he thinks of what this particular piece will make them think of him. He quickly dismisses those notions as he steps back to look at his work. No, his work is meant to catch the attention of a very specific group of people, actually only one person will know what it is that is doing this. He will see the grotesque pictures and read of the horrid find and his subconscious will begin to let loose the images given to him. Déjà vu, they call it, the sense of seeing something before, in a dream, a past life, whatever the cause it will be enough to make him try to stop it, and with each succeeding artwork that is found it will continue to plague him, mock him with the failure of not stopping the deaths in time.
Yes, it will happen as he planned. Looking at his work he knows that the forensic specialists will find out that while this was being done to this person they were alive for a good majority of it. They will know that the loss of blood is what caused death, not severe trauma. They will also know that the mutilation to the rest of the body was done after the time of death for good measure.
He chuckles to himself as he pictures the profilers trying to understand what kind of childhood or traumatic experience could so warp an individual so much to allow his psyche to do such horrible things. That was the funny things about humans, their narrow minded pride limiting all that they know to the minute scope of their own understanding of their own minds, and then applying that understanding to all that they know. As if that would provide all the answers to their questions about their limited knowledge of the universe.
No, the telltale signature he would add shortly would spell out exactly which part of human society this was meant for.
Taking a sword he cleanly cleaves the head off of the corpse.
Just as he planned there was no blood, as most of it had been drained away long ago. It was a minor, but important tell tale sign as well. Leaving the head below where he had hung his work of art on the wall he walks over to a small bowl that had a broad paintbrush in it.
It is the type of paintbrush used by artists to make broad thick strokes on a canvas. Swirling the concoction in the bowl with the brush as he walks to his artwork he carefully takes the brush out and wipes any excess fluid from the brush. No point in getting sloppy now, he thinks as he begins to paint the wall around his piece of art.
Hours later as he finishes he looks at his work and nods, with the last of his brush he writes on the wall a simple message, a message that matches the deep red color of the rest of the work on the wall. Finishing his writing he collects his tools and departs.
When the authorities would find the studio sometime later that week, nearly all that found it would find themselves running away after seeing the site initially, whether or not they had food in their stomachs didn't matter, they would heave nonetheless. Even for the most battle-hardened individuals who had lived through war and seen the horrors that men could do would pale at the sight.
For on the wall was a pale body, with out a trace of blood on it, it's head grotesquely laid at its own feet a look of pain and terror frozen on its detached face, arms stretched out in a horrible mockery of the crucifixion. Behind it were its entrails and lungs hung and splayed out in a fashion that made one think of butterfly wings outstretched ready for flight.
Later when trying to figure out where all the blood of the victim had gone the forensic team will make a discovery that would make their stomachs turn even more. For there were pictures painted on the wall around the body. Perfect tonal studies of the human pain and terror, pictures that could have been taken directly from one of Faust's works, pictures that made the body look like it was part of some grotesque mural, they were in fact painted in blood, to be more precise, the blood of the victim.
Above it all, above the body and mural of pain, as some had come to call it, was a simple phrase. It was perhaps it was the thing that was most chilling and confusing of all. For above the body and the mural, in perfect medieval block lettering, as if the writers of the Guggenheim bible themselves had written it, was the simple phrase:
"Only One."
...
Lauren Fletcher sets foot at Los Angels International Airport. Walking to the baggage claim area she waits patiently for her suitcase to slide down the carousel. Others that were on her flight were beginning to gather around her as the rest of the plane disembarked after she had gotten out of the plane.
Her bag appeared at the opening of the carousel and slid down on the moving conveyor belt. Grabbing her bag she hefted it off of the belt and extended the long handle allowing her to wheel the bag behind her as she walked over to the US customs line.
Getting into the line marked for those with passports other than US she takes out her passport and for she had filled out in the plane.
"Form and passport please." The customs agent asked her.
She handed the forms and her passport over and the agent checked it over before handing it back to her. Lauren then headed over to the second checkpoint and told the agent there that she had nothing to claim. The agent looked over her bags and waved her through after stamping her passport. Making her way over to the rental car counter she tells the attendee her name telling that she has a car reserved.
She hands the young woman her paper work and waits as she searches for her in the computer. "You can choose any car on aisle three."
"Thank you, you don't have a map I could have do you?"
"Sure, which direction are you heading? I could highlight the route on the map for you."
"Sunnydale."
"Sunnydale huh? Okay, let me see." She says after pulling out a map of southern California. "You're right here," she says circling the airport, "you need to take Sepulveda and go south, you'll see a sign for the 105 east on the left hand side. Take that and get on the 105 east. After a little bit you'll see a sign for the 405 south, follow the signs and stay on the 405. You'll be on that freeway for about and hour, it'll turn into the 5 freeway here and after that you should see the signs for Sunnydale."
"Thank you." Lauren tells the young woman.
Making her way to the car she puts her bags into the back and gets into the drivers seat. Turning the ignition of the engine she pulls out of the parking garage and turns onto Sepulveda. Checking the clock on the dashboard she sees that the others wouldn't be arriving in California for at least another day giving her plenty of time to set herself up with Rupert.
He didn't know that she was coming, but she needed to establish herself as the good guy before Travers came. Reading the reports that both Rupert and Travers both filed she knew that she wouldn't have too much of a hard time doing that. Both Rupert and Ms Summers both hated Travers and seeing that she and Rupert were friends she should be able to establish herself as an ally not an enemy.
Travers didn't know she was here, looking for the Slayer he had created. But not for the reasons that Travers was searching for her, no she too needed the Slayer as a tool. But hers is a different purpose, one much more personal to her, the means to a end that she had been waiting for so long after Jacob had passed.
Yes, she would find her. If it were the last thing she ever did, she would find her.
...
Mid-September weather in California is not always what some would expect. By this time the weather patterns off the Californian coast over the Pacific Ocean shift ever so slightly. The flow of the jet stream rises just enough, away from the equator to cool the air as it reaches the coast. The result is a thick marine layer that rolls up and onto the coast and spills over inland.
Looking out the window this morning Faith sees what she would call the typical fall weather for California. She could tell just by looking at the clouds above that the sun would probably not come out today, keeping the day cool and overcast. She had been staring out of the window for almost an hour in quiet contemplation.
Faith nearly snorts at that thought. Contemplation. If the others back in Sunnydale could see her now. She doubts that they would be able to relate her old persona to who she is now. The leather wearing, kick ass now ask questions later, man eating Slayer is so far removed from who she is now that it is mind boggling.
Xander had stood watching her for a moment, she was afraid that he would ask her what was bothering her. That was a subject she wasn't quite ready to share, at least not yet anyway. Somehow Xander knew this, or he knew that now wasn't the time to ask and he quietly left her to own quiet contemplation. She idly remembers hearing the computer booting up and Xander's quiet typing on the keyboard.
He had been writing something on the computer for the past few weeks now. When she asked him about it he just threw a lopsided grin at her and said it was his journal. He kept an electronic copy because it was easier for him to go back and read it later on.
She was surprised at the revelation. In her mind most guys would have adamantly denied the fact that they were keeping anything even remotely resembling a diary. But not Xander, he told it to her straight; something that she never thought any guy would have been capable of. When she told him this she just chuckled and with a twinkle in his eye he said, "Why? What do I have to hide? From you of all people?"
What indeed? It seemed that she and Xander shared everything almost openly and freely. When they would talk they talked to each other on a level where she could tell that if she asked him something he would answer truthfully.
And truthfully, she could see that her relationship with Xander was changing as well. They were steadily becoming closer and closer. She told him of her past, her ghosts and her life before Sunnydale with a stoic resolve, never judging her, it was as if he knew all of what she had to say and was just waiting for her to open up. After opening up he would tell her his thoughts and relate to a story of his own and somehow she would be better off than when she started.
Taking a good long look outside as the clouds pass by quietly she sighs. Standing up she thinks that now is a perfect time to open up, especially on today.
Xander is exactly where she expects him to be, sitting on the couch; his legs stretched out on the length of the couch a book in his hands.
Moving to sit on his legs she sits on the couch, making sure to pin his legs without causing him much discomfort.
"How's the book?" She asks him.
Looking up from his book he just shrugs, "Tell you the truth, I wasn't reading it. I've been staring at this page for about," he pauses taking a look at his watch, "a half hour now."
"Waiting for me to come out here and talk to you?"
"That about sums it up." He says putting the book down on the table.
"Then you deprive yourself from the great literature of," glances at the book, "Edgar Allen Poe?"
"Let's just say I'm partial to that Raven."
"Nevermore?"
"That's the one."
"A little morbid don't you think?"
"No, I just like the word, taken in different contexts it could mean so many things to so many different people." She let the words hang in silence for a moment before he asks, "So, what's on your mind?"
"Can you read me that easily?"
Xander smiles easily and says, "That and the fact that you became a living statue sitting on the nook seat for an hour. I figured that something was up but I didn't want pry."
"So you came in here and pretended to read a book?"
"Yup. So now, what's on your mind?"
"Today is the anniversary of my first Watcher's death." She says quietly. She can feel Xander's legs squirm under own. Looking at him he is just staring at her.
"I take it that wasn't what you were expecting."
"Not really, no. But looking back it does make sense."
"How so?"
"Come on, I'll show you. Get changed."
"What?"
"We're going out. Get changed." He hefts her onto her feet while getting up. "We'll talk when we get to where we are going."
"Fine, I'll bite. Are you going to tell me where we are going?"
"No, it a surprise." He says with a grin.
Forty minutes later they were in the heart of Little Tokyo. The entire drive she had tried to pry some information as to their destination but Xander would not have any of it. He said that once they arrived they would talk and that it would help.
Parking the car and getting out Faith feels a bit out of place. Her and Xander were perhaps the only ones on the block that weren't of Asian descent. Looking around Faith is a little confused as she fails to see what it is that he thinks is so important that she would have to wait to tell him her story.
"Uh, Xand? I really don't see what it is that you want me to see here."
He just throws her a knowing smile and beckons her to follow him. "Just follow me, since when have I steered you wrong?"
"Never." She tells him. "So far."
"Oh ye of little Faith." He says smiling at his own pun.
"Xand, that was horrible."
"I know but I just had to say it, I've been waiting for the right opportunity to let me use that one."
"Just do me a favor and don't use it ever again, at least not with me around."
"Fine. Spoil sport."
She childishly sticks her tongue out at him before responding, "So where is this place you're going to show me?"
Xander doesn't respond right away and she looks over at him. His entire body language had changed.
"Xand?"
"We're here." He says simply gesturing at a wooden gate.
"What is exactly here?"
Taking a deep breath and pushing the gate open he gently takes her hand and leads her past the hearth.
"My sanctuary."
Once inside Xander closes the gate behind him. Just on the inside of the gate is another door, this one a definite Japanese design to it. Xander walks to a stand next to the door and lights a stick of incense. Bowing slightly he gestures her to follow him as he pushes open the inner door.
What Faith sees inside nearly takes her breath away. The inner sanctum of the walls contains a setting that could have been taken right out of medieval Japan. The elegant and unmistakable design of the inner sanctum is peaceful and serene.
"Xand, what is this place?" She says looking at the rock garden in the center of the room.
Coming to her side, looking at the rock garden as well he answers, "Like I said, my sanctuary. This is a Shinto shrine."
"This place, its, its..."
"I know. That's the way I reacted the first time I came here. I've always been able to clear my head here and when you told me about today I thought that this place would help you. Here there are no distractions, no one to judge you but yourself, here you can be at peace."
Nodding she sits down at one of the stone benches next to the rock garden. "Thanks for sharing this with me Xander, this place is amazing." She says gesturing to the shrine around her. "By the way, where do you get all that spiritual stuff from? Is it something here that you channel or something?"
Xander smiles as he leans toward her to whisper something in her ear, "Don't tell anyone this, but I get most of it from Cassandra. Priestess and all you know. But I thought it wouldn't hurt to spread the wisdom a bit."
"No, it didn't." She smiles.
Leaning back and facing her Xander asks, "So, lets try this again. What's on your mind?"
Faith takes a good look around her and takes a deep breath.
"Today is the anniversary of my first Watcher's death."
She sits there gauging Xander's reaction. His outward appearance was calm if it had been anyone else but her one would have thought that he didn't care. But she knew Xander, and for some reason she knew that he was just itching to ask about it but he didn't want to rush her.
So rather than wait for his response she asks, "What do you know about what happened to me that night?"
"Only what Giles had told us. The Council had found your Watcher dead and Buffy had told us that you were there, you saw what he did to her."
She takes another deep breath and looks around her, drawing strength from both the shrine and the man next to her. "That's about it, but there's more to it, more that I haven't told anyone about, ever."
As she recalls the time she and her Watcher had spent while captured by Kakistos Faith's eyes begin to water. As she draws in a shuddering breath she can feel Xander's arm wrap around her shoulders adding his own strength to her own.
"Hey, I don't want you to force yourself to do this. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready."
Leaning into him she just shakes her head, "No. I have to do this now, while I have the courage to face it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Fine, but if at anytime, and I mean it, anytime you feel like you can't keep going I want you to stop."
"Sure."
"No I really do mean it."
"I know you do." She says smiling at him. "But I have to do this, not only for me but for her."
"Her? You mean your first Watcher?"
"Yes, I need to tell someone else what happened that night, in case something ever happened to me someone will remember the sacrifice she made for me."
"Sacrifice?"
"Kakistos had captured us while we were out patrolling. We were ambushed and I was hurt trying to fight them off. There were so many of them. Even with my Slayer powers, I mean you hurt a Slayer enough you'll be able to put her out of commission for a day or two."
"So you were pretty much out of commission?"
"Does the term weak as a kitten mean anything to you? If you saw the place that Kakistos' lackeys had us in you would have seen that any Slayer would have been able to get away. Do you know how bad it was for me Xander? I could barely move." She shudders at the memories as they come at her unrestrained. "By the time Kakistos came to gloat over us my bones had barely knitted together."
Faith feels Xander's hand squeeze her own. Looking up at him he says, "I didn't know."
"That's the thing Xand. No one knew, I never told anyone about this. Giles never pried, and neither did the rest of you. I never got the chance to tell you. After I had killed Finch everything spiraled out of control...and you already know how that story ended."
"So I can see why you never told me or the others, you never had a chance."
"But I do now."
"Okay then, Kakistos had come to gloat?"
Closing her eyes she continues her story. "He had told us that he was going to have fun with us, he said that women always were more entertaining during torture. They would always scream, no matter how long the session had lasted. I was lying down on the only cot that was in the small room and Kakistos walked over to me. He told me that he was going to have a particularly good time torturing me."
"But I thought that you were pretty much out of it?"
"I was. But Kakistos thought that I was mocking him, so he started to beat on me, trying to get me to fight back. But I couldn't, I just didn't have the strength to fight back. That's when my Watcher stood up for me telling him that I was too weak to fight back, that his lackeys thought that the only to capture us alive was to make sure that I wouldn't be able to fight back."
"He couldn't have liked that."
"He didn't, he was furious. When he asked one of the other vampires in the room if it was true he literally ripped its head off when it told him yes. If you have never seen an ancient vampire completely livid you are a lot better off. He turned to my Watcher and asked her about my healing abilities and how long it would take for me to get my strength back. She refused at first but after he hit her she told him that I wouldn't have my strength back for at least another twenty-four hours."
"That soon?"
"That was what I was thinking too. But after he had left room she walked over me and cradled my head, I don't know what it was but she was mumbling something to herself so I asked her about my strength. She just looked down at me with a sad smile and told me that there was no way that my natural healing abilities alone would replenish my strength by that time."
"Then why did she say it?"
A small sad smile appeared on her face as she looked down at the swirling lines in the sand of the rock garden. "She told me that it was the only way she could think of to get him to leave us alone. She didn't want him to hurt me anymore. So I asked her what we were going to do. It wasn't like we were going to be breaking anytime soon. She just smiled and told me that she had a plan."
"So what was the plan?"
"That was the weird part, she said that the plan right now was for me to rest and to gain my strength back and that she would tell me the rest in morning. After that she started to sing a lullaby to me, I fell asleep after that because all I remember is her waking me up in the morning."
"Sounded like a great plan." He says with a bit of uncertainty.
"It was." She says as a tear streaks down her face. "It was the only plan that would have let me get away alive. After I woke up I saw that it was morning and I asked her what the rest of the plan was. She asked me how I felt and I said fine and then I asked her about the plan again. She told me that she had made a promise to protect me and that she would keep that promise even if it cost her life. She said that she owed it my family and me; she told me that I needed to live. I asked what she meant by it and she just told me to keep quiet. She said that they were going to come soon and that I had to listen to her plan and that no matter what happened, no matter what I saw that I had stick to the plan. She made me promise, Xander." The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks.
"Hey, the plan worked didn't it? You're alive right?"
"No you don't understand Xander! She told me that there was going to be only one opportunity for her plan to work and it would have to be the moment when Kakistos went to unchain me for torture. But we needed the element of surprise Kakistos expected me to be weak and I had to play possum until that time. I told her that there wouldn't be a problem with that seeing that I didn't have the strength to much fighting anyway."
"But something happened?"
"Yes. She started singing the lullaby to me again."
"She wanted you to go to sleep again?"
"No, it was a spell of some sort. After she finished the spell I could feel a warmth fall on me and all of a sudden I had my strength back. I could feel it, I could have walked up to the door and busted us out right then and there but she stopped me."
"Why would she do that?"
"She said that it would only get us in another bad situation and they would probably kill us outright instead. Even if they didn't kill us she couldn't do the spell again."
"Why couldn't she do the spell again?"
"She told me that the spell transfers the energy of the caster to the intended receiver...she didn't have enough energy to do the spell twice. I told her that we had to get out of there then, we had to escape or else we'd die. That's when we heard a door open down the hallway and I could hear Kakistos' voice, they were coming. She said that there wasn't any more time left and told me we had to stick to her plan. She grabbed my hand and led me back to the cot. I asked her what she wanted me to do and she looked me straight in the eye and told me to play possum. We would have only one chance at this and I had to wait for the right moment to attack."
"Jesus."
"She said she gave me almost all her energy, but she had kept enough energy to put up a good show."
"A good show?"
"Yes. When Kakistos arrived we were in the exact same position as we were when I woke up. He asked how my healing was coming along. She answered I would be able to walk right now, but my strength wouldn't return to nominal levels for another two hours. He told her that she better be able to last for two hours. So they dragged both of us into another room and chained me to a metal chair and chained her to a table."
"Oh my God."
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat she takes another deep breath before continuing. Her tears now wouldn't stop and the shivers, the shivers were running all over her skin. "So...for two...hours..." her words slowly turned into sobs as she fought the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her. "I watched...as...as..."
"Faith, you don't have to..."
"NO! I have to finish this! I watched as he did things to her and every time she thought I would get out of my seat and save her she would look at me and I could all but hear her in my head telling me to keep my promise to her. I watched her die Xander, I could have saved her but I did the only thing I could do."
"What was that?"
"I cried Xander. I cried out of frustration and I cried out of grief. I begged for him to stop but all it did was make him dig harder or poke deeper. He made his lackeys leave the room telling me that he wanted to revel I his victory over me alone. He asked me if I liked hearing her scream, if I enjoyed watching her blood spill off of the table and he leaned in close enough for me to feel his breath on my face as he told me that I would be next. That is when I broke off the arm of the chair they put me in and used it to scratch out his eye. It wasn't enough to kill him but it was enough to let me get away. The rest is history."
Her last sentence comes out as a whisper. She looks around her, at the peace and tranquility of shrine, hoping to find strength in the sanctuary Xander had shared with her. But it wasn't the shrine where she would find the strength and support she needed. It was Xander's arms as he enveloped her in a strong embrace.
As she leaned her head onto Xander's shoulder and began to release all the grief and sadness that she had pent up inside she found that it wasn't the shrine that would be her sanctuary. Not like it was for Xander. No she had found her sanctuary in the man sitting right next to her holding her in a warm embrace.
...
The phone rings in a house about an hour away.
"Hello?"
"Adam?"
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
After hanging up the phone the man takes out a cell phone and dials a number. After two rings a familiar voice answers the phone.
"Joe's."
"Joe, it's Adam."
"Adam, what the hell was that earlier?"
"Sorry Joe, but I haven't checked my line for taps this week yet."
"If anything you could be called paranoid. How do you know if you cell phone isn't being tapped?"
"I own the cell phone company."
"Oh." Joe says, not sure if the ancient immortal was joking or not.
"So Joe, tell me, what is it that has you wound up so much that you have to call me? MacLeod run into yet another Immortal and you're afraid that he might loose this time? I'm telling you Joe, MacLeod will find a way to win, if not he's just lucky enough to have it fall into his lap."
"It's not about that. Something has come up, something that has shaken a few branches over here with the Watchers. I was hoping you could help."
"You need a translation done?"
"No, logon to the Watchers network. I sent you all the info."
"Sure hold on."
Adam walks into his office and logs into the Watcher's network and gets his email.
"Joe, I got it."
"Open up the attachments."
Double clicking on the attachments he goes through each one, his mind assimilating every detail in each one. With each successive attachment he can feel the pit of his stomach grow cold.
"Adam? You still there?"
"Yes Joe." He glances at the attachments one more time before asking, "Do you have any idea who could have done this? Any leads?"
"Actually I was hoping you could help me out on that one."
"How?"
"Does the work look familiar?"
"What? You think because I was the scourge of three continents that I know every single psychopathic Immortal ever to be born?" Methos tells him slightly offended.
"No, it's not that. I was just hoping you might know someone or something. We haven't been able to turn up any kind of leads here either."
"Well one thing's for sure, whoever did this could give Caspian a run for his money as far as psychopathic tendencies go."
"We're thinking that this was done by an Immortal."
"Was it the cleaved head or maybe the words `only one' that gave you that idea?"
"Very funny Adam."
"What about the body. Was it a known Immortal?"
"No, as far as we could tell it wasn't an Immortal. Also there weren't any signs of a quickening in the area."
"That still doesn't mean anything. The body looks like it had a Blood Eagle performed on it."
"How do you know?"
"I've had a bit of experience with them and no I haven't done many of them on any one, at least not lately."
"What about the pictures?"
"I'm not sure if they mean anything, but they are exquisite. Perfect tone and form, a true piece of art in a morbid way."
"Adam can you help us? You're the closest thing I have to an Immortal profiler I can think of. If this psycho is an Immortal this is exactly the kind of attention we do not want."
"I'll see what I can do. Give me a week or so and I'll send you what I find."
"Thanks Adam."
"You're welcome, oh and if you call my land line again my name is Ben Pierce."
"Sure, I'll give you a call a little later."
"Nice hearing from you Joe."
"You too Adam."
Hanging up his cell phone Adam goes back to his computer and starts to print out hard copies of the information Joe had sent him. It was going to be a long night.
...
Here you go, it's a bit shorter than the others but still I think that it's a good chapter. I actually wrote a majority of this chapter this week and I wanted to get it done before I left on another trip this weekend. I know that I said I was going to work on another story for awhile but I wanted to give you readers something else to chew on for this story for a while until I get started on the next chapter. Keep an eye out for my other story, I think it has great potential but I won't know until I finish the first part and you guys read and comment it. Until then good reading! And don't forget to review!
References
1. mailto:jasonbautista@hotmail.com
2. http://www.fanfiction.net/
3. http://www.fanfiction.net/cache/read_212870_1.html
Rating: R
Author: Banquo
Email: [1]banquo@fanfiction.net
Summary: Xander and Faith have returned home after the events of "Leaves of Grass" but all is not as it seems. Dark dreams and plans set into motion allude to the danger that waits beyond the horizon.
Disclaimers: I own nothing except the story and all the characters I create in between. Buffy and all character related there in belong to Joss and Mutant enemy. While the concept of Immortality and all characters pertaining to Highlander belong to Panzer-Davis.
Archive: Go right ahead! Just email me a link where you plan on archiving my fic.
Though this story can stand on its own there are references to my first story so I strongly recommend that you read my first story "Leaves of Grass" which can be found at [2]www.fanfiction.net search for the title and it will appear on the top of the list. Or you can go [3]here directly to get to the story.
I had struggled a bit with this chapter since I was writing two distinctly different stories at the same time. While writing I found that I was focusing more on the other story rather than this one. So I stopped writing the other one and finished this chapter for my loyal readers. Thanks for the encouraging reviews; they really do motivate me to write more. I have yet to start on the next chapter, due to real life getting in the way last week (LA/OC Lindy Binge and work to name just two things), so I'm not sure when you can expect the next chapter. But rest assured I haven't given up on writing. So here you all go:
Chapter 5: Studies of Pain
In Sunnydale a particularly unlucky training dummy is on the receiving end of a rather brutal expulsion of anger. Giles flinches as hear hears the loud sounds as feet and fists connect with dummy.
Buffy did not take the news he had given her the night before very well. Actually that was a bit of an understatement, the term cold hatred would be the best term to use. When he told her what he had learned Buffy stood there a moment, her jaw clenched. It is a stance he had seen many times before. He saw it when Buffy had found out about those Angelus had killed. He saw it when she found out about those who were killed under her watch. He had seen it on his own face when he found out the Angelus had killed Ms. Calendar.
She probably had gotten the expression from him, he thinks.
When she had found out what the council had done to her she stood there, jaw clenched as if she were about to explode. However she quickly glanced over at Dawn, who had come downstairs to greet her sister, and her Mother and just nodded slowly before walking upstairs to her room. Giles was bout to go up and follow her to make sure that she was okay when he heard her voice come down the stairs.
"We're training early tomorrow?" She asked.
"Yes." Was his simple reply.
"Good."
Now looking at Buffy as she trained he knew why she had asked that question. She had quite a bit of anger to work out, anger she didn't want to come out while she was in front of her family. But here, in the sanctuary of the training room she could freely work out that anger the way she knew best.
Through fighting.
True she didn't really have much in the way of opponents, but the training dummy would suffice this morning, as it has for the past two hours. Buffy was still going strong but he could tell that the purpose for her fervor had subtly changed over the past few minutes.
Giles decided that it was time to put an end to the training session.
"Buffy."
Buffy continues to punch and kick the dummy, not hearing Giles call her name.
"Buffy." He calls again.
Buffy performs and inside crescent kick, connecting with the dummy's head, quickly setting up for a back hand fist to follow up the kick.
Giles stands up and walks over to her. There was only one way to get her attention, but he had to be very careful in the way he did it. He looked at the part of the routine that Buffy was in, gauging her rhythm and movement.
Seeing his opportunity he gently places a hand on her shoulder and calls her name again, "Buffy."
Knowing what her reaction would be he let his hand slide down slightly as he backs away just out of reach from the backhand aimed at his head. Using his hand he pushes her arm past him using her own momentum to knock her safely of balance forcing her to disengage as she regained her footing.
Just as she recovers eyes blazing Giles calls out her name one more time.
"Buffy."
Just as fast as her anger had flared up it was gone, once she realized that it was Giles who had interrupted her training regimen.
"Giles? Jeez! You know better than to do that Giles, I could have hurt you!"
A small knowing smile tugs on the corners of his mouth before he answers, "Somehow I doubt that. But I think it's time to stop for today."
"What do you mean, I was just getting started." Buffy complains.
"Precisely why I wanted you to stop."
"What?" Buffy asks.
"Come on let's sit."
Buffy sits on one of the benches as Giles pulls a chair up and places it in front of her sitting down.
Curious Buffy asks Giles, "What's up?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing. How are you feeling?"
"I'm just peachy." She answers brightly. Seeing the look on Giles' face however she amends her answer. "To tell you the truth, not very well. I mean physically I'm fine, I'm just..."
"Angry?" Giles finishes for her.
"Yeah." She says before taking a deep breath and continuing. "When you told me what you had found out I was furious. A thousand things went through my head in the span of a few seconds and I didn't know how to deal with it. I wanted to scream, yell, I wanted to go out and patrol some more just to find something to take my anger out on them. But I couldn't, not in front of my family."
"So you decided to wait until our morning training session to let loose some of your anger?" He asks her.
"Yeah, and I was doing a good job of it too before you stopped me." She says with a slight pout.
Giles takes his glasses off for a moment and wipes a smudge from the lens. He doesn't look up at her as he says, "That may work with your mother, maybe even the others, but it won't work with me."
When he puts he glasses on he sees the confused look on Buffy's face. "That may have been your intention when you started out but that changed. So let me ask you again, how are you feeling?"
The second he finished he could see Buffy's entire demeanor change. She had a look of defeat about her that she would never show in front of the others, not even her mother. But he had seen it many times, he was the only one that she would allow to see her like this, vunerable.
"I'm scared Giles."
"Of what? The Council?"
"No...I mean yes..."
"Buffy, talk to me."
"I mean that I am scared of what the Council is capable of, but there is something else that I'm scared of."
"And that would be?"
"Dying." She says simply.
Giles looks at her with a look of shock, he knew something was frightening the young woman but he had no idea that this would be what is bothering her.
"Buffy, everyone is afraid of dying, Slayers even more so because of the dangers they face every night."
"No I'm not afraid of dying in the sense of death. I'm afraid that if I should die, everything that is important to me, all those I care about, who'll take care of them? I mean I'm supposed to protect them, how am I supposed to do that if I die? Without me around they'd be east prey for the next monster that comes by, human or otherwise."
"Buffy, the next Slayer..."
"Won't be trained by you." She says with finality and a reserve that surprises him. "You're a major reason why I lasted this long Giles, you may not think it but it's true. You let me have friends, you let me have a life, you let others help me, you helped giving me a reason and motivation to go out there every night and do what my destiny has called me to do. Giles, I know that you might not think this but without you I would have died long ago."
Momentarily shocked Giles' modesty allows him to recover quickly, "I assure you Buffy you are overstating my importance just a little..."
"No I'm not Giles. I was lucky when it came to Watchers; Travers is a good example of what the Council represents. If he had been my Watcher I would have died long ago."
For a rare moment in his life Giles has nothing to say.
"Giles, what happens to the families and the loved ones of a Slayer when she dies? What happens to them?"
Shaken out of his reverie Giles answers, "Truthfully? I don't know. Slayers never had families or friends before. They are considered distractions to the duties of the Slayer and her Watcher."
"So no one knows what will happen to them if I die?" She asks quietly.
"No, but I can tell you what I think will happen. First, I think that you will live long enough to see your family for a long time to come. Second, even if you died I would personally see to it that your mother and Dawn are taken care of. I would leave the Watchers and stay here in Sunnydale or wherever they went to make sure that they were okay. Third, your friends are some of the most capable people I have ever met, brave, selfless and most of all fearless. You don't have to worry too much about them. They will live their lives and they will meet their ends on their terms."
She smiles slightly as she tells him, "You make it sound as if you guys don't need me."
"No Buffy, that is far from the truth. We need you in our lives just as you need us in yours, but we don't need you as a protector. We need you here as a friend," Giles stands up and sits next to her on the bench and puts an arm around her shoulders, "and as a daughter."
She doesn't say anything as she leans into him, the man who has become her father, the man who has come to be her protector over the years.
"Now you better go and get cleaned up, I've got to open the shop soon and you and your sister can help with the shipment that is coming in this morning."
She nods as she gets up and picks up her bag. As she exits the room Giles gets up and walks over to one of the windows looking out at the cloudy sky above.
"We'll get through this. We have to."
...
Freedom is a strange thing. For so many throughout the ages it is something that many have fought and died for. Freedom from oppression, freedom from tyranny, the freedom to express oneself, the freedom to practice religion, freedom is something that has been applied to many a thing. But freedom itself is a funny concept.
Like many of the intangibles in life it is something that cannot be expressed in any one term other than itself. But for some freedom is a much simpler thing to know than the complexities of God given rights. For some it is simply a release. A release from the boundaries and the cages that entrap them, sometimes they self-created boundaries, but most of the time they are boundaries that hold many against their will.
Many, however take their freedom so lightly, taking for granted the ability to come and go as they please. They take for granted the intangible thing that has been handed to them on a silver platter.
For the Master however freedom is something he vows never to take for granted ever again. The Master muses about his newly gained freedom, how does one apply an intangible thing to a being that is equally intangible? He likens the comparison to giving form to air, it is something that goes against the logically mind. Then again, that depends on the logic that ones mind applies to the situation.
He can hear the confusion from the other consciousness he is sharing his current vessel with. He quickly dismisses it as he continues on completing the task at hand. Killing.
Actually the task at hand is more of the aftermath of killing, more of a morbid rearrangement. The actual killing had taken place a few hours ago. Everything now was just the little extra that always brought a flare to things.
Now like many skills, killing and death is an art. Like many art forms there are subtle differences from one artist to the next. Each picture painted, ever sculpture created, every portion of the piece is insight into the mind and psyche of the artist. Every artist had tendencies that gave subtle clues and hints as to their background, their mode of thinking, just enough to single out what made the artist who they are today.
Art critics are able to pick these subtleties out, differentiating each artist from the others. The critics he hopes to catch the attention of with this work however are a bit different. In this time they are called profilers, men and women who have the ability to crawl into the minds of killers, psychopaths they call them, and see what makes them tick.
He chuckles as he thinks of what this particular piece will make them think of him. He quickly dismisses those notions as he steps back to look at his work. No, his work is meant to catch the attention of a very specific group of people, actually only one person will know what it is that is doing this. He will see the grotesque pictures and read of the horrid find and his subconscious will begin to let loose the images given to him. Déjà vu, they call it, the sense of seeing something before, in a dream, a past life, whatever the cause it will be enough to make him try to stop it, and with each succeeding artwork that is found it will continue to plague him, mock him with the failure of not stopping the deaths in time.
Yes, it will happen as he planned. Looking at his work he knows that the forensic specialists will find out that while this was being done to this person they were alive for a good majority of it. They will know that the loss of blood is what caused death, not severe trauma. They will also know that the mutilation to the rest of the body was done after the time of death for good measure.
He chuckles to himself as he pictures the profilers trying to understand what kind of childhood or traumatic experience could so warp an individual so much to allow his psyche to do such horrible things. That was the funny things about humans, their narrow minded pride limiting all that they know to the minute scope of their own understanding of their own minds, and then applying that understanding to all that they know. As if that would provide all the answers to their questions about their limited knowledge of the universe.
No, the telltale signature he would add shortly would spell out exactly which part of human society this was meant for.
Taking a sword he cleanly cleaves the head off of the corpse.
Just as he planned there was no blood, as most of it had been drained away long ago. It was a minor, but important tell tale sign as well. Leaving the head below where he had hung his work of art on the wall he walks over to a small bowl that had a broad paintbrush in it.
It is the type of paintbrush used by artists to make broad thick strokes on a canvas. Swirling the concoction in the bowl with the brush as he walks to his artwork he carefully takes the brush out and wipes any excess fluid from the brush. No point in getting sloppy now, he thinks as he begins to paint the wall around his piece of art.
Hours later as he finishes he looks at his work and nods, with the last of his brush he writes on the wall a simple message, a message that matches the deep red color of the rest of the work on the wall. Finishing his writing he collects his tools and departs.
When the authorities would find the studio sometime later that week, nearly all that found it would find themselves running away after seeing the site initially, whether or not they had food in their stomachs didn't matter, they would heave nonetheless. Even for the most battle-hardened individuals who had lived through war and seen the horrors that men could do would pale at the sight.
For on the wall was a pale body, with out a trace of blood on it, it's head grotesquely laid at its own feet a look of pain and terror frozen on its detached face, arms stretched out in a horrible mockery of the crucifixion. Behind it were its entrails and lungs hung and splayed out in a fashion that made one think of butterfly wings outstretched ready for flight.
Later when trying to figure out where all the blood of the victim had gone the forensic team will make a discovery that would make their stomachs turn even more. For there were pictures painted on the wall around the body. Perfect tonal studies of the human pain and terror, pictures that could have been taken directly from one of Faust's works, pictures that made the body look like it was part of some grotesque mural, they were in fact painted in blood, to be more precise, the blood of the victim.
Above it all, above the body and mural of pain, as some had come to call it, was a simple phrase. It was perhaps it was the thing that was most chilling and confusing of all. For above the body and the mural, in perfect medieval block lettering, as if the writers of the Guggenheim bible themselves had written it, was the simple phrase:
"Only One."
...
Lauren Fletcher sets foot at Los Angels International Airport. Walking to the baggage claim area she waits patiently for her suitcase to slide down the carousel. Others that were on her flight were beginning to gather around her as the rest of the plane disembarked after she had gotten out of the plane.
Her bag appeared at the opening of the carousel and slid down on the moving conveyor belt. Grabbing her bag she hefted it off of the belt and extended the long handle allowing her to wheel the bag behind her as she walked over to the US customs line.
Getting into the line marked for those with passports other than US she takes out her passport and for she had filled out in the plane.
"Form and passport please." The customs agent asked her.
She handed the forms and her passport over and the agent checked it over before handing it back to her. Lauren then headed over to the second checkpoint and told the agent there that she had nothing to claim. The agent looked over her bags and waved her through after stamping her passport. Making her way over to the rental car counter she tells the attendee her name telling that she has a car reserved.
She hands the young woman her paper work and waits as she searches for her in the computer. "You can choose any car on aisle three."
"Thank you, you don't have a map I could have do you?"
"Sure, which direction are you heading? I could highlight the route on the map for you."
"Sunnydale."
"Sunnydale huh? Okay, let me see." She says after pulling out a map of southern California. "You're right here," she says circling the airport, "you need to take Sepulveda and go south, you'll see a sign for the 105 east on the left hand side. Take that and get on the 105 east. After a little bit you'll see a sign for the 405 south, follow the signs and stay on the 405. You'll be on that freeway for about and hour, it'll turn into the 5 freeway here and after that you should see the signs for Sunnydale."
"Thank you." Lauren tells the young woman.
Making her way to the car she puts her bags into the back and gets into the drivers seat. Turning the ignition of the engine she pulls out of the parking garage and turns onto Sepulveda. Checking the clock on the dashboard she sees that the others wouldn't be arriving in California for at least another day giving her plenty of time to set herself up with Rupert.
He didn't know that she was coming, but she needed to establish herself as the good guy before Travers came. Reading the reports that both Rupert and Travers both filed she knew that she wouldn't have too much of a hard time doing that. Both Rupert and Ms Summers both hated Travers and seeing that she and Rupert were friends she should be able to establish herself as an ally not an enemy.
Travers didn't know she was here, looking for the Slayer he had created. But not for the reasons that Travers was searching for her, no she too needed the Slayer as a tool. But hers is a different purpose, one much more personal to her, the means to a end that she had been waiting for so long after Jacob had passed.
Yes, she would find her. If it were the last thing she ever did, she would find her.
...
Mid-September weather in California is not always what some would expect. By this time the weather patterns off the Californian coast over the Pacific Ocean shift ever so slightly. The flow of the jet stream rises just enough, away from the equator to cool the air as it reaches the coast. The result is a thick marine layer that rolls up and onto the coast and spills over inland.
Looking out the window this morning Faith sees what she would call the typical fall weather for California. She could tell just by looking at the clouds above that the sun would probably not come out today, keeping the day cool and overcast. She had been staring out of the window for almost an hour in quiet contemplation.
Faith nearly snorts at that thought. Contemplation. If the others back in Sunnydale could see her now. She doubts that they would be able to relate her old persona to who she is now. The leather wearing, kick ass now ask questions later, man eating Slayer is so far removed from who she is now that it is mind boggling.
Xander had stood watching her for a moment, she was afraid that he would ask her what was bothering her. That was a subject she wasn't quite ready to share, at least not yet anyway. Somehow Xander knew this, or he knew that now wasn't the time to ask and he quietly left her to own quiet contemplation. She idly remembers hearing the computer booting up and Xander's quiet typing on the keyboard.
He had been writing something on the computer for the past few weeks now. When she asked him about it he just threw a lopsided grin at her and said it was his journal. He kept an electronic copy because it was easier for him to go back and read it later on.
She was surprised at the revelation. In her mind most guys would have adamantly denied the fact that they were keeping anything even remotely resembling a diary. But not Xander, he told it to her straight; something that she never thought any guy would have been capable of. When she told him this she just chuckled and with a twinkle in his eye he said, "Why? What do I have to hide? From you of all people?"
What indeed? It seemed that she and Xander shared everything almost openly and freely. When they would talk they talked to each other on a level where she could tell that if she asked him something he would answer truthfully.
And truthfully, she could see that her relationship with Xander was changing as well. They were steadily becoming closer and closer. She told him of her past, her ghosts and her life before Sunnydale with a stoic resolve, never judging her, it was as if he knew all of what she had to say and was just waiting for her to open up. After opening up he would tell her his thoughts and relate to a story of his own and somehow she would be better off than when she started.
Taking a good long look outside as the clouds pass by quietly she sighs. Standing up she thinks that now is a perfect time to open up, especially on today.
Xander is exactly where she expects him to be, sitting on the couch; his legs stretched out on the length of the couch a book in his hands.
Moving to sit on his legs she sits on the couch, making sure to pin his legs without causing him much discomfort.
"How's the book?" She asks him.
Looking up from his book he just shrugs, "Tell you the truth, I wasn't reading it. I've been staring at this page for about," he pauses taking a look at his watch, "a half hour now."
"Waiting for me to come out here and talk to you?"
"That about sums it up." He says putting the book down on the table.
"Then you deprive yourself from the great literature of," glances at the book, "Edgar Allen Poe?"
"Let's just say I'm partial to that Raven."
"Nevermore?"
"That's the one."
"A little morbid don't you think?"
"No, I just like the word, taken in different contexts it could mean so many things to so many different people." She let the words hang in silence for a moment before he asks, "So, what's on your mind?"
"Can you read me that easily?"
Xander smiles easily and says, "That and the fact that you became a living statue sitting on the nook seat for an hour. I figured that something was up but I didn't want pry."
"So you came in here and pretended to read a book?"
"Yup. So now, what's on your mind?"
"Today is the anniversary of my first Watcher's death." She says quietly. She can feel Xander's legs squirm under own. Looking at him he is just staring at her.
"I take it that wasn't what you were expecting."
"Not really, no. But looking back it does make sense."
"How so?"
"Come on, I'll show you. Get changed."
"What?"
"We're going out. Get changed." He hefts her onto her feet while getting up. "We'll talk when we get to where we are going."
"Fine, I'll bite. Are you going to tell me where we are going?"
"No, it a surprise." He says with a grin.
Forty minutes later they were in the heart of Little Tokyo. The entire drive she had tried to pry some information as to their destination but Xander would not have any of it. He said that once they arrived they would talk and that it would help.
Parking the car and getting out Faith feels a bit out of place. Her and Xander were perhaps the only ones on the block that weren't of Asian descent. Looking around Faith is a little confused as she fails to see what it is that he thinks is so important that she would have to wait to tell him her story.
"Uh, Xand? I really don't see what it is that you want me to see here."
He just throws her a knowing smile and beckons her to follow him. "Just follow me, since when have I steered you wrong?"
"Never." She tells him. "So far."
"Oh ye of little Faith." He says smiling at his own pun.
"Xand, that was horrible."
"I know but I just had to say it, I've been waiting for the right opportunity to let me use that one."
"Just do me a favor and don't use it ever again, at least not with me around."
"Fine. Spoil sport."
She childishly sticks her tongue out at him before responding, "So where is this place you're going to show me?"
Xander doesn't respond right away and she looks over at him. His entire body language had changed.
"Xand?"
"We're here." He says simply gesturing at a wooden gate.
"What is exactly here?"
Taking a deep breath and pushing the gate open he gently takes her hand and leads her past the hearth.
"My sanctuary."
Once inside Xander closes the gate behind him. Just on the inside of the gate is another door, this one a definite Japanese design to it. Xander walks to a stand next to the door and lights a stick of incense. Bowing slightly he gestures her to follow him as he pushes open the inner door.
What Faith sees inside nearly takes her breath away. The inner sanctum of the walls contains a setting that could have been taken right out of medieval Japan. The elegant and unmistakable design of the inner sanctum is peaceful and serene.
"Xand, what is this place?" She says looking at the rock garden in the center of the room.
Coming to her side, looking at the rock garden as well he answers, "Like I said, my sanctuary. This is a Shinto shrine."
"This place, its, its..."
"I know. That's the way I reacted the first time I came here. I've always been able to clear my head here and when you told me about today I thought that this place would help you. Here there are no distractions, no one to judge you but yourself, here you can be at peace."
Nodding she sits down at one of the stone benches next to the rock garden. "Thanks for sharing this with me Xander, this place is amazing." She says gesturing to the shrine around her. "By the way, where do you get all that spiritual stuff from? Is it something here that you channel or something?"
Xander smiles as he leans toward her to whisper something in her ear, "Don't tell anyone this, but I get most of it from Cassandra. Priestess and all you know. But I thought it wouldn't hurt to spread the wisdom a bit."
"No, it didn't." She smiles.
Leaning back and facing her Xander asks, "So, lets try this again. What's on your mind?"
Faith takes a good look around her and takes a deep breath.
"Today is the anniversary of my first Watcher's death."
She sits there gauging Xander's reaction. His outward appearance was calm if it had been anyone else but her one would have thought that he didn't care. But she knew Xander, and for some reason she knew that he was just itching to ask about it but he didn't want to rush her.
So rather than wait for his response she asks, "What do you know about what happened to me that night?"
"Only what Giles had told us. The Council had found your Watcher dead and Buffy had told us that you were there, you saw what he did to her."
She takes another deep breath and looks around her, drawing strength from both the shrine and the man next to her. "That's about it, but there's more to it, more that I haven't told anyone about, ever."
As she recalls the time she and her Watcher had spent while captured by Kakistos Faith's eyes begin to water. As she draws in a shuddering breath she can feel Xander's arm wrap around her shoulders adding his own strength to her own.
"Hey, I don't want you to force yourself to do this. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready."
Leaning into him she just shakes her head, "No. I have to do this now, while I have the courage to face it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Fine, but if at anytime, and I mean it, anytime you feel like you can't keep going I want you to stop."
"Sure."
"No I really do mean it."
"I know you do." She says smiling at him. "But I have to do this, not only for me but for her."
"Her? You mean your first Watcher?"
"Yes, I need to tell someone else what happened that night, in case something ever happened to me someone will remember the sacrifice she made for me."
"Sacrifice?"
"Kakistos had captured us while we were out patrolling. We were ambushed and I was hurt trying to fight them off. There were so many of them. Even with my Slayer powers, I mean you hurt a Slayer enough you'll be able to put her out of commission for a day or two."
"So you were pretty much out of commission?"
"Does the term weak as a kitten mean anything to you? If you saw the place that Kakistos' lackeys had us in you would have seen that any Slayer would have been able to get away. Do you know how bad it was for me Xander? I could barely move." She shudders at the memories as they come at her unrestrained. "By the time Kakistos came to gloat over us my bones had barely knitted together."
Faith feels Xander's hand squeeze her own. Looking up at him he says, "I didn't know."
"That's the thing Xand. No one knew, I never told anyone about this. Giles never pried, and neither did the rest of you. I never got the chance to tell you. After I had killed Finch everything spiraled out of control...and you already know how that story ended."
"So I can see why you never told me or the others, you never had a chance."
"But I do now."
"Okay then, Kakistos had come to gloat?"
Closing her eyes she continues her story. "He had told us that he was going to have fun with us, he said that women always were more entertaining during torture. They would always scream, no matter how long the session had lasted. I was lying down on the only cot that was in the small room and Kakistos walked over to me. He told me that he was going to have a particularly good time torturing me."
"But I thought that you were pretty much out of it?"
"I was. But Kakistos thought that I was mocking him, so he started to beat on me, trying to get me to fight back. But I couldn't, I just didn't have the strength to fight back. That's when my Watcher stood up for me telling him that I was too weak to fight back, that his lackeys thought that the only to capture us alive was to make sure that I wouldn't be able to fight back."
"He couldn't have liked that."
"He didn't, he was furious. When he asked one of the other vampires in the room if it was true he literally ripped its head off when it told him yes. If you have never seen an ancient vampire completely livid you are a lot better off. He turned to my Watcher and asked her about my healing abilities and how long it would take for me to get my strength back. She refused at first but after he hit her she told him that I wouldn't have my strength back for at least another twenty-four hours."
"That soon?"
"That was what I was thinking too. But after he had left room she walked over me and cradled my head, I don't know what it was but she was mumbling something to herself so I asked her about my strength. She just looked down at me with a sad smile and told me that there was no way that my natural healing abilities alone would replenish my strength by that time."
"Then why did she say it?"
A small sad smile appeared on her face as she looked down at the swirling lines in the sand of the rock garden. "She told me that it was the only way she could think of to get him to leave us alone. She didn't want him to hurt me anymore. So I asked her what we were going to do. It wasn't like we were going to be breaking anytime soon. She just smiled and told me that she had a plan."
"So what was the plan?"
"That was the weird part, she said that the plan right now was for me to rest and to gain my strength back and that she would tell me the rest in morning. After that she started to sing a lullaby to me, I fell asleep after that because all I remember is her waking me up in the morning."
"Sounded like a great plan." He says with a bit of uncertainty.
"It was." She says as a tear streaks down her face. "It was the only plan that would have let me get away alive. After I woke up I saw that it was morning and I asked her what the rest of the plan was. She asked me how I felt and I said fine and then I asked her about the plan again. She told me that she had made a promise to protect me and that she would keep that promise even if it cost her life. She said that she owed it my family and me; she told me that I needed to live. I asked what she meant by it and she just told me to keep quiet. She said that they were going to come soon and that I had to listen to her plan and that no matter what happened, no matter what I saw that I had stick to the plan. She made me promise, Xander." The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks.
"Hey, the plan worked didn't it? You're alive right?"
"No you don't understand Xander! She told me that there was going to be only one opportunity for her plan to work and it would have to be the moment when Kakistos went to unchain me for torture. But we needed the element of surprise Kakistos expected me to be weak and I had to play possum until that time. I told her that there wouldn't be a problem with that seeing that I didn't have the strength to much fighting anyway."
"But something happened?"
"Yes. She started singing the lullaby to me again."
"She wanted you to go to sleep again?"
"No, it was a spell of some sort. After she finished the spell I could feel a warmth fall on me and all of a sudden I had my strength back. I could feel it, I could have walked up to the door and busted us out right then and there but she stopped me."
"Why would she do that?"
"She said that it would only get us in another bad situation and they would probably kill us outright instead. Even if they didn't kill us she couldn't do the spell again."
"Why couldn't she do the spell again?"
"She told me that the spell transfers the energy of the caster to the intended receiver...she didn't have enough energy to do the spell twice. I told her that we had to get out of there then, we had to escape or else we'd die. That's when we heard a door open down the hallway and I could hear Kakistos' voice, they were coming. She said that there wasn't any more time left and told me we had to stick to her plan. She grabbed my hand and led me back to the cot. I asked her what she wanted me to do and she looked me straight in the eye and told me to play possum. We would have only one chance at this and I had to wait for the right moment to attack."
"Jesus."
"She said she gave me almost all her energy, but she had kept enough energy to put up a good show."
"A good show?"
"Yes. When Kakistos arrived we were in the exact same position as we were when I woke up. He asked how my healing was coming along. She answered I would be able to walk right now, but my strength wouldn't return to nominal levels for another two hours. He told her that she better be able to last for two hours. So they dragged both of us into another room and chained me to a metal chair and chained her to a table."
"Oh my God."
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat she takes another deep breath before continuing. Her tears now wouldn't stop and the shivers, the shivers were running all over her skin. "So...for two...hours..." her words slowly turned into sobs as she fought the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her. "I watched...as...as..."
"Faith, you don't have to..."
"NO! I have to finish this! I watched as he did things to her and every time she thought I would get out of my seat and save her she would look at me and I could all but hear her in my head telling me to keep my promise to her. I watched her die Xander, I could have saved her but I did the only thing I could do."
"What was that?"
"I cried Xander. I cried out of frustration and I cried out of grief. I begged for him to stop but all it did was make him dig harder or poke deeper. He made his lackeys leave the room telling me that he wanted to revel I his victory over me alone. He asked me if I liked hearing her scream, if I enjoyed watching her blood spill off of the table and he leaned in close enough for me to feel his breath on my face as he told me that I would be next. That is when I broke off the arm of the chair they put me in and used it to scratch out his eye. It wasn't enough to kill him but it was enough to let me get away. The rest is history."
Her last sentence comes out as a whisper. She looks around her, at the peace and tranquility of shrine, hoping to find strength in the sanctuary Xander had shared with her. But it wasn't the shrine where she would find the strength and support she needed. It was Xander's arms as he enveloped her in a strong embrace.
As she leaned her head onto Xander's shoulder and began to release all the grief and sadness that she had pent up inside she found that it wasn't the shrine that would be her sanctuary. Not like it was for Xander. No she had found her sanctuary in the man sitting right next to her holding her in a warm embrace.
...
The phone rings in a house about an hour away.
"Hello?"
"Adam?"
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
After hanging up the phone the man takes out a cell phone and dials a number. After two rings a familiar voice answers the phone.
"Joe's."
"Joe, it's Adam."
"Adam, what the hell was that earlier?"
"Sorry Joe, but I haven't checked my line for taps this week yet."
"If anything you could be called paranoid. How do you know if you cell phone isn't being tapped?"
"I own the cell phone company."
"Oh." Joe says, not sure if the ancient immortal was joking or not.
"So Joe, tell me, what is it that has you wound up so much that you have to call me? MacLeod run into yet another Immortal and you're afraid that he might loose this time? I'm telling you Joe, MacLeod will find a way to win, if not he's just lucky enough to have it fall into his lap."
"It's not about that. Something has come up, something that has shaken a few branches over here with the Watchers. I was hoping you could help."
"You need a translation done?"
"No, logon to the Watchers network. I sent you all the info."
"Sure hold on."
Adam walks into his office and logs into the Watcher's network and gets his email.
"Joe, I got it."
"Open up the attachments."
Double clicking on the attachments he goes through each one, his mind assimilating every detail in each one. With each successive attachment he can feel the pit of his stomach grow cold.
"Adam? You still there?"
"Yes Joe." He glances at the attachments one more time before asking, "Do you have any idea who could have done this? Any leads?"
"Actually I was hoping you could help me out on that one."
"How?"
"Does the work look familiar?"
"What? You think because I was the scourge of three continents that I know every single psychopathic Immortal ever to be born?" Methos tells him slightly offended.
"No, it's not that. I was just hoping you might know someone or something. We haven't been able to turn up any kind of leads here either."
"Well one thing's for sure, whoever did this could give Caspian a run for his money as far as psychopathic tendencies go."
"We're thinking that this was done by an Immortal."
"Was it the cleaved head or maybe the words `only one' that gave you that idea?"
"Very funny Adam."
"What about the body. Was it a known Immortal?"
"No, as far as we could tell it wasn't an Immortal. Also there weren't any signs of a quickening in the area."
"That still doesn't mean anything. The body looks like it had a Blood Eagle performed on it."
"How do you know?"
"I've had a bit of experience with them and no I haven't done many of them on any one, at least not lately."
"What about the pictures?"
"I'm not sure if they mean anything, but they are exquisite. Perfect tone and form, a true piece of art in a morbid way."
"Adam can you help us? You're the closest thing I have to an Immortal profiler I can think of. If this psycho is an Immortal this is exactly the kind of attention we do not want."
"I'll see what I can do. Give me a week or so and I'll send you what I find."
"Thanks Adam."
"You're welcome, oh and if you call my land line again my name is Ben Pierce."
"Sure, I'll give you a call a little later."
"Nice hearing from you Joe."
"You too Adam."
Hanging up his cell phone Adam goes back to his computer and starts to print out hard copies of the information Joe had sent him. It was going to be a long night.
...
Here you go, it's a bit shorter than the others but still I think that it's a good chapter. I actually wrote a majority of this chapter this week and I wanted to get it done before I left on another trip this weekend. I know that I said I was going to work on another story for awhile but I wanted to give you readers something else to chew on for this story for a while until I get started on the next chapter. Keep an eye out for my other story, I think it has great potential but I won't know until I finish the first part and you guys read and comment it. Until then good reading! And don't forget to review!
References
1. mailto:jasonbautista@hotmail.com
2. http://www.fanfiction.net/
3. http://www.fanfiction.net/cache/read_212870_1.html