The music inside the Bronze was a muted thump on the street outside. An ad-hoc band comprised of the members of several local groups was playing seriously deranged versions of Christmas tunes. At the moment they were massacring 'Winter Wonderland,' slowing it down into a dirge and creating the impression that Felix Bernard had been one step from ending it all when he penned those immortal words about snow glistening in the lane.
Scott Freeman leaned in close to Nikki Styles and shouted, "Wanna get out of here?" into her ear. Under normal circumstances this would have been considered rude, but the guitar player for No 2 Snowflakes Are Alike (the one-shot band's name) had just launched into an insanely loud solo that recapitulated 'Winter Wonderland's melody and managed to quote 'Every Little Breeze Seems To Whisper Louise', a feat that would have been very impressive if he had realized what he was doing. This rendered Scott's yell barely audible. Nikki nodded, then turned and motioned to Todd Stoltz.
"Wanna split?" she screamed.
Todd nodded. "Yeah," he shouted. "Let's score some beer." He pushed away from the table and led the way out the door. They lurched into the street in a blast of fuzz-toned guitar.
The night air seemed practically frigid after the humid, overheated interior of the club. Scott had his arm around Nikki's shoulder. Todd ambled along beside them. Even though Scott and Nikki were nominally dating, the trio was pretty nigh inseparable.
"Trust me," Todd said, kicking a can lying in the street, "this is a done deal." Little did he know.
Scott noticed the man standing in the street. Something about his posture caused the boy to take his arm off his girlfriend's shoulder. "Hey, man," he said, "is there a problem?" The man said nothing, didn't move. The boys stopped and drew in close to Nikki. Todd swam for Sunnydale High and Scott captained the lacrosse team, but something in this guy's posture radiated more than fitness; it said threat.
And he wasn't alone. A male and a female stepped out into the street to join him. "What do we do?" Todd whispered to Scott.
"I vote that we go back to the dance," Nikki muttered.
"I'm with you," said Scott. "Let's go."
The kids turned back toward the Bronze, but four figures blocked that path. Everyone froze, then one of the women laughed, a sound that chilled the blood of the three students. The tableau held a moment, then Todd decided he had nothing to lose. He threw a punch at the nearest person.
The guy caught his fist like a rubber ball, then squeezed. There was an audible crunch as the metacarpals in Todd's hand collapsed under the pressure. The boy shrieked and dropped to his knees. The dark figures began to move in, laughing.
"My, my, did someone schedule a party and not invite me?" The vampires froze and turned toward the sound of the voice. Buffy jumped down from the Dumpster, landing on the balls of her feet and pivoting to face the vamps.
All of who screamed and charged. Buffy snatched the lid off an aluminum trashcan. She executed a three-sixty spin and let it go like a Frisbee. It whistled through the air and knocked down two of her assailants, but the rest kept coming. She barely had time to snatch a stake from under her jacket before the first one was within arm's reach. She blocked a looping overhand right and plunged the stake up under his ribs; dust showered her.
The second demon, a female in life, threw a cross-body block at Buffy. The Slayer jumped, pulling her feet up under her and allowing the vampire to pass beneath her. While she was in the air, Buffy threw out a side-kick that caught a third vampire in the teeth, knocking him backwards. She landed and shuffled back a couple of steps.
Todd, Nikki, and Scott stood frozen, fear and awe on their faces. "Go!" Buffy yelled. "You've got to get back inside!" They needed no more encouraging. They sprinted toward the club.
Which left Buffy alone with the vamps. She managed to stake the female, but caught a powerful punch to the body from another one. She staggered back. Another hard right followed. Buffy caught the vampire's wrist with her left hand and blocked an attempted right. For a second they were face to face. The demon grinned. Its head rocketed forward and the hard, bony brow ridge caught her above the left eye. Buffy reeled backward, stars exploding in her head. A male lunged forward and threw a punch. It connected, right in her ribcage. The Slayer gasped in pain and went to one knee. A vamp charged. Buffy struggled up and, almost blind with pain, thrust the stake out. It punctured the center of the vamp's chest, but he didn't explode. His arms went around her, trying to wrap her up. Buffy managed to work the stake free. The vamp's head began to descend, fangs gleaming. Buffy jabbed the stake up, and this time she got the heart. Shaking her head, trying to clear the dust from her eyes and the fog from her brain, she felt the rough brick of a wall against her back. The four remaining vampires began to close in.
"Well, Slayer, I guess now you die," one of them growled.
Buffy lifted her stake. "That's the best line you can think of? Boy, is immortality wasted on you." The vampires fanned out. Buffy began to turn, left to right and back again. There were too many of them, and her injuries sapped too much strength. When they all charged, it would just be a matter of time.
The vamp on her far left screamed and exploded. Buffy and the three survivors looked that way. Angel stood there, holding a slat torn from a packing crate.
"Who's next?" he said.
Two vampires attacked him. Buffy was left to deal with one attacker. Even in her weakened state, she was able to stake him, although it took a little longer than normal. As she pulled herself up, she could see Angel standing between two piles of ash.
"What happened with that one guy? You had to stick him twice?" Angel asked.
"Missed his heart the first time. Guess it was two sizes too small." Buffy took a step toward the Bronze and staggered. Angel caught her, but she still gasped as his hand grabbed her injured ribs.
Buffy held up a hand. "I'll be okay."
Angel draped her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure you will, but I'd feel better if you'd let me walk you home."
"Well," Buffy said, dizziness washing over her, "if it'll make you feel better." She took a deep, painful breath. "I'm really not in any shape to look a gift horse in any part of its anatomy."
***
Faith spat, trying to get the taste of ashes out of her mouth. Two of the vampires in that group had gotten away. Maybe it wasn't just ashes she tasted; maybe it was the choking bile of failure. Still, she had seven kills for the night. She was so tired her eyes were tearing up-or maybe that was just vampire grit. Not even the Bronze sounded good tonight; they were having some sort of dumbass Christmas shindig. Time to stumble off to the ValleyView
***
"I think this will be one of the best attended Christmas programs we've ever had. And a lot of the credit for that belongs to you, Rupert. I think this Christmas Carol reading will be an absolute smash." Jack Baker sipped from the styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and grimace. "Amazing. After sitting in this cup for three hours, it's awful. Who would've guessed?"
Giles chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment." He assayed a slight bow, trying to hide the delight he took in the praise. Jack was the director of the Vandivort, Sunnydale's well-respected community theater. One of his hallmarks was an outstanding Christmas show, and Giles had suggested his one-man performance with no little trepidation. Jack responded with great enthusiasm, however, and had even offered to direct Giles. The former librarian thought he knew his Dickens, but Jack, a tall man with thinning hair who covered a perfectionist's soul with a laid-back veneer, provided insights that enabled Giles to discover fresh nuances in the work.
"No," Jack said. "Thank you for doing this. I think this will be a real treat for a lot of people." Giles gathered up his things, thanked Jack again for the help, and left the theater. He stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the night air. It was decidedly unfrosty, but Giles consoled himself with the knowledge that somewhere, at this very moment, someone was caroling.
***
Faith crossed the railroad tracks, her boots clunking against the steel rails. The headlight of a night freight was visible far up the track and on impulse she stepped close to the tracks and closed her eyes. She could feel the ground trembling beneath her feet. The vibration intensified as the train drew closer. She could hear the rhythmic clack of the wheels on the track and the brightness of the light was detectable even through closed eyelids. Then the piercing shriek of the whistle split the night and it was upon her. The wind of the freight's passing tugged at her clothes and she was enveloped in a cloud of grit and debris. The train rushed by in a blur less than an arm's length away. If she wanted, she could reach out, grab hold and let it snatch her away from all this.
With a last swirl of dust and wind and the scream of its whistle the train vanished into the night. Faith opened her eyes and stared into the pale face of a girl standing on the other side of the tracks. The dark Slayer watched the girl step across the tracks, her feet maneuvering over the obstacles with great precision. The girl crossed a few feet to Faith's right and when she drew even with the Slayer she turned and looked at her.
"Hey," the girl said.
"Hey," Faith replied. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a walk."
Faith looked around at the deserted street. "Little late, don't you think?"
The girl shrugged. "You're out."
"Yeah, well, I've got business."
"Oh, I see." The girl looked around at the dry grass poking through the white gravel scattered along the right of way and the locked metal-walled buildings. "Must be pretty solitary business."
"It's my business."
The girl studied the Slayer more carefully. "You're Faith, aren't you?"
Faith tensed. "I don't know you."
"Oh, I've heard about you. Dark, pretty, kinda tense."
"Heard about me from who?"
The girl waved a hand. "Oh, some girl at school. Kind of a funny name... Muffy, no..."
"Buffy." Faith's voice was flat and affectless.
The girl snapped her fingers. "That's it. Buffy. She a friend of yours?"
Faith pursed her lips. "I think this conversation's over."
The girl winced. "Ouch. History there, huh?"
Faith started to walk away then turned back. "I thought she was my friend. She wasn't. End of story. No history."
"Yeah, it's probably best that way. The past can be pretty painful."
"Yeah, whatever," Faith said.
"Take you, for instance." The girl cocked her head to one side and looked at the Slayer.
A bitter smile curled Faith's lips. "You have no idea."
"So you're the girl the world pissed on." There was the faintest tone of challenge, of mockery in that statement. Faith's hands balled into fists.
"You're real close to the edge here," she spat through gritted teeth.
"Hey, hey, not looking for a fight here." The girl took a step back, raising her hands. It caused the too-big overcoat she wore to flap in the night air like giant batwings. "Just one last thing. The past is like an anchor. It can help you ride out a storm, but it can also pull you down and drown you." She turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.
"Thanks for the fortune cookie," Faith sneered.
***
Giles could still see the front door of the theater as he unlocked his car. Jack came outside and began locking up. He dropped the keys in his pocket and turned around when two figures sprang at him from the shadows. Giles dropped his garment bag and sprinted up the sidewalk. One of the attackers knocked Jack to the ground. Giles knew he would not get there in time. The assailant behind Jack opened his mouth wide; Giles saw the glint of fangs in the open maw. As he ran, Giles felt the pockets of his topcoat, trying to find anything. His fingers closed over something round and smooth. Skidding to a stop, Giles plucked the object out. It was a vial of holy water. A small crucifix on a chain was wrapped around its stopper.
Giles hefted the vial in his hand, took two steps and let fly. He didn't care for American baseball, but he'd been a fair cricket player in his day. The holy water described a lazy parabola and dropped directly onto the head of the vampire leaning over Jack. The bottle shattered, fluid soaking the head of one vampire and spattering the face of the other. Both screamed and clawed at their faces. Giles reached them, the crucifix dangling from his hand. One of the vampires, the one with the least holy water damage, reached for him. Giles swung the crucifix on its chain. The small gold cross arced through space and stuck in the fiend's eye. An unearthly howl rent the night. The vampire jerked back, cross lodged in its smoking eye socket, the chain dangling down its face. Undead flesh sizzled. The other vampire, blinded by its own melting face, reached out a groping hand and caught the chain. The cross came free, and the eyeball with it. Giles fought back nausea as the vampires struggled to their feet and staggered away. He wouldn't be chasing them tonight.
Shivering, Giles knelt over his supine friend. "Are you all right?" he gasped.
A shaken Jack stirred. "Rupert? God, what happened?"
"I'm not sure," Giles replied, trying to think of a plausible explanation as he helped Jack to his feet.
Jack brushed off the knees of his trousers and dusted his hands together. "Probably kids. They know we've got sound equipment in the theater. They think they can fence it for a few bucks to buy crank."
That sounded like a fine reason to Giles. "Yes, drugs. What a terrible, terrible scourge on our young people," he commiserated.
***
"So there were how many?"
"Seven." Buffy closed her locker and turned to face Xander. She wore a baseball cap and oversized shades to hide the massive black eye and bruised forehead she sported after the previous night's battle.
Xander scratched his neck. "Aren't our pointy-mouthed buds usually of the solitary persuasion?"
"My take exactly." Buffy adjusted her sunglasses.
"Harris. Summers. Just the sound of your names is enough to ruin my day." They winced and turned to face Principal Snyder. Xander plastered a huge, insincere grin on his face.
"And a ho-ho-ho Merry Christmas to you, sir."
Snyder glared at him. "Don't tax your brain and my patience any further. Both of you missed your afternoon classes yesterday. Why?"
Xander started the tag team. "Well, it is the holidays..." He looked at Buffy.
She picked up the thread. "We were just so full of that holiday spirit..."
"Right, that we just couldn't stay here, so we--"
Snyder waved a dismissive hand. "I don't really care what the actual reason was. I just know that proper procedure was not followed, which means that you two are going to be my guests in detention for, oh, let's say two weeks. Not only that, but--"
"Buffy. Xander." Josie waved at them from behind Snyder. He glanced at her and then reacted as though a scorpion had dropped down his pants. "Hey, Buffy, thanks for the shoulder yesterday," Josie said. Snyder looked as though he were choking. Buffy ignored him.
"You're welcome," she said. "I was just trying to help." Snyder inched away. Buffy turned to him. "Principal Snyder, what about detention?"
"Forget about it." He threw the words over his shoulder as he quick-walked away.
"I don't know what you did," Xander said as he watched the principal disappear around a corner, "but I'd like to order a double."
"Me?" Josie shrugged. "I didn't do nothin'."
***
"Ah, I'm glad you stopped by. I needed to talk to you."
"I figured as much." Buffy tossed her cap onto the table and removed her sunglasses.
"Good Lord," Giles sputtered. "What happened to you?"
"This?" Buffy pointed toward her forehead. The blue-and-green bruise extended into her hairline. A swollen ring of purple-black surrounded her eye. "Tangled with a vampire who'd seen Roadhouse. I'll be as good as new in twenty-four."
Giles looked at her for a moment. "Well, if you're sure about that, then I'll tell you this. There seems to be great agitation among the undead of Sunnydale."
"Gee, who would've guessed it? I guess that's why I ended up tangling with seven uglies at once."
Giles' eyebrows shot up. "Seven? Why, that's, that's almost like a... a..."
"A gang? Then I guess these guys would be the Bloods."
Giles frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Buffy waved him off. "Never mind. I guess I'm a little punchy."
"Seven?" Giles rubbed his chin. "How did you ever win?"
"Help from an unexpected quarter. Angel showed up."
Giles' eyebrows rose even higher. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps you shouldn't patrol tonight."
"Gee, how great minds think alike." Buffy's voice was dry. "Any idea whether Josie is a factor in this little situation?"
Giles raised his hands palm up. "She is a variable, but I can't say for sure."
"Well, something's a little hinky about her."
"How so?"
Buffy gave him a 'come on' look. "She shows up in Sunnydale at Christmas, she bonds with our little gang... It's all a little too, if you get my drift. Plus she gives Snyder the wig."
"How so?"
"Oh, he was running some smack on Xander and me when she walked up. Snyder acted like he'd eaten a bug." Buffy smiled at the memory.
Giles stepped behind the desk and hauled out a thick volume. "I'll keep looking. In the meantime, I don't want you patrolling tonight." Buffy snapped him a salute, put on her cap and shades and left. As the doors swung shut Giles reached under the counter and yanked out the catalog. "I'm ordering that crossbow today," he muttered.
***
Too bad there's no money in wandering the streets, Xander though as he strolled along. It was a sunny afternoon, but it could have been raining toads (which, come to think of it, was possible in Sunnydale) and he would still avoid going home. It just seemed so much easier that way.
"Lost in thought, or just lost?"
He jumped and whirled and maybe, just maybe, made a little yipping noise that could be called a scream. Josie stood there.
"Whoa," he said. "Was that really necessary?"
She shrugged. "I suppose not, but it sure was fun. Are you on your way home?"
"Not bloody likely," Xander said in his worst English accent, which was pretty bad. "Actually, this is part of a personal odyssey, a crusade, if you will, to memorize the entire street system of Sunnydale inch by inch."
"Wow." She was mock-impressed. "Sounds challenging."
"You know it."
She cocked her head to one side. "Don't get along with the family?"
Xander shrugged. "Spoken like someone who knows."
"Yeah, I kinda understand it."
Xander resumed walking. "Is it so hard for people to just get along? And not in the Rodney King, 'please let's stop killing each other' kind of way. I mean, in a 'hey, we're blood relatives, let's treat each other better than crap' kind of way."
"That bad, huh?"
Xander's laugh was a bitter parody of amusement. "It makes for a seriously warped Christmas."
"Ah yes, the old 'don't get along with the family.' Problem number twenty-six." Josie shook her head, letting the breeze lift her hair and the sun shine on her face. "Okay, you're family's a mess. But you're not the only one with that problem."
"Please." Xander squinted at the sun. "No one has a family even remotely like the Harrises."
"What about Cordelia?"
"Cor? She's got problems, but family isn't one of them."
"How do you know?" Josie's hair whipped across her face as she looked at him.
"Well, I guess I really don't, since there's never been any contact there."
"Okay. Don't think I'll pick that scab anymore. So you're family's a mess. What about Buffy?"
He shrugged. "Her mom's cool. She seems to get along pretty good with her dad."
"So Buffy is the one who's got it made."
Xander smiled. "I wouldn't say that."
Josie stepped close to him. Xander could smell her hair. He felt a little dizzy. "You're funny," Josie said, her voice just a notch above a whisper. "But you shouldn't hide behind it."
Xander blinked. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "Excuse me?" he said. As she stepped away, he called out, "Where are you going?"
She turned and spread her arms wide. "Back to Oz's. He's cool." Her coat swirled around her. "Get happy. It's Christmas." She turned and walked away from him, taking long, confident strides down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
"Well, Dick," Xander said, to no one in particular. "I give it a ninety-eight on the wig-o-meter. It had a good beat and it definitely freaked me out."
Scott Freeman leaned in close to Nikki Styles and shouted, "Wanna get out of here?" into her ear. Under normal circumstances this would have been considered rude, but the guitar player for No 2 Snowflakes Are Alike (the one-shot band's name) had just launched into an insanely loud solo that recapitulated 'Winter Wonderland's melody and managed to quote 'Every Little Breeze Seems To Whisper Louise', a feat that would have been very impressive if he had realized what he was doing. This rendered Scott's yell barely audible. Nikki nodded, then turned and motioned to Todd Stoltz.
"Wanna split?" she screamed.
Todd nodded. "Yeah," he shouted. "Let's score some beer." He pushed away from the table and led the way out the door. They lurched into the street in a blast of fuzz-toned guitar.
The night air seemed practically frigid after the humid, overheated interior of the club. Scott had his arm around Nikki's shoulder. Todd ambled along beside them. Even though Scott and Nikki were nominally dating, the trio was pretty nigh inseparable.
"Trust me," Todd said, kicking a can lying in the street, "this is a done deal." Little did he know.
Scott noticed the man standing in the street. Something about his posture caused the boy to take his arm off his girlfriend's shoulder. "Hey, man," he said, "is there a problem?" The man said nothing, didn't move. The boys stopped and drew in close to Nikki. Todd swam for Sunnydale High and Scott captained the lacrosse team, but something in this guy's posture radiated more than fitness; it said threat.
And he wasn't alone. A male and a female stepped out into the street to join him. "What do we do?" Todd whispered to Scott.
"I vote that we go back to the dance," Nikki muttered.
"I'm with you," said Scott. "Let's go."
The kids turned back toward the Bronze, but four figures blocked that path. Everyone froze, then one of the women laughed, a sound that chilled the blood of the three students. The tableau held a moment, then Todd decided he had nothing to lose. He threw a punch at the nearest person.
The guy caught his fist like a rubber ball, then squeezed. There was an audible crunch as the metacarpals in Todd's hand collapsed under the pressure. The boy shrieked and dropped to his knees. The dark figures began to move in, laughing.
"My, my, did someone schedule a party and not invite me?" The vampires froze and turned toward the sound of the voice. Buffy jumped down from the Dumpster, landing on the balls of her feet and pivoting to face the vamps.
All of who screamed and charged. Buffy snatched the lid off an aluminum trashcan. She executed a three-sixty spin and let it go like a Frisbee. It whistled through the air and knocked down two of her assailants, but the rest kept coming. She barely had time to snatch a stake from under her jacket before the first one was within arm's reach. She blocked a looping overhand right and plunged the stake up under his ribs; dust showered her.
The second demon, a female in life, threw a cross-body block at Buffy. The Slayer jumped, pulling her feet up under her and allowing the vampire to pass beneath her. While she was in the air, Buffy threw out a side-kick that caught a third vampire in the teeth, knocking him backwards. She landed and shuffled back a couple of steps.
Todd, Nikki, and Scott stood frozen, fear and awe on their faces. "Go!" Buffy yelled. "You've got to get back inside!" They needed no more encouraging. They sprinted toward the club.
Which left Buffy alone with the vamps. She managed to stake the female, but caught a powerful punch to the body from another one. She staggered back. Another hard right followed. Buffy caught the vampire's wrist with her left hand and blocked an attempted right. For a second they were face to face. The demon grinned. Its head rocketed forward and the hard, bony brow ridge caught her above the left eye. Buffy reeled backward, stars exploding in her head. A male lunged forward and threw a punch. It connected, right in her ribcage. The Slayer gasped in pain and went to one knee. A vamp charged. Buffy struggled up and, almost blind with pain, thrust the stake out. It punctured the center of the vamp's chest, but he didn't explode. His arms went around her, trying to wrap her up. Buffy managed to work the stake free. The vamp's head began to descend, fangs gleaming. Buffy jabbed the stake up, and this time she got the heart. Shaking her head, trying to clear the dust from her eyes and the fog from her brain, she felt the rough brick of a wall against her back. The four remaining vampires began to close in.
"Well, Slayer, I guess now you die," one of them growled.
Buffy lifted her stake. "That's the best line you can think of? Boy, is immortality wasted on you." The vampires fanned out. Buffy began to turn, left to right and back again. There were too many of them, and her injuries sapped too much strength. When they all charged, it would just be a matter of time.
The vamp on her far left screamed and exploded. Buffy and the three survivors looked that way. Angel stood there, holding a slat torn from a packing crate.
"Who's next?" he said.
Two vampires attacked him. Buffy was left to deal with one attacker. Even in her weakened state, she was able to stake him, although it took a little longer than normal. As she pulled herself up, she could see Angel standing between two piles of ash.
"What happened with that one guy? You had to stick him twice?" Angel asked.
"Missed his heart the first time. Guess it was two sizes too small." Buffy took a step toward the Bronze and staggered. Angel caught her, but she still gasped as his hand grabbed her injured ribs.
Buffy held up a hand. "I'll be okay."
Angel draped her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure you will, but I'd feel better if you'd let me walk you home."
"Well," Buffy said, dizziness washing over her, "if it'll make you feel better." She took a deep, painful breath. "I'm really not in any shape to look a gift horse in any part of its anatomy."
***
Faith spat, trying to get the taste of ashes out of her mouth. Two of the vampires in that group had gotten away. Maybe it wasn't just ashes she tasted; maybe it was the choking bile of failure. Still, she had seven kills for the night. She was so tired her eyes were tearing up-or maybe that was just vampire grit. Not even the Bronze sounded good tonight; they were having some sort of dumbass Christmas shindig. Time to stumble off to the ValleyView
***
"I think this will be one of the best attended Christmas programs we've ever had. And a lot of the credit for that belongs to you, Rupert. I think this Christmas Carol reading will be an absolute smash." Jack Baker sipped from the styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and grimace. "Amazing. After sitting in this cup for three hours, it's awful. Who would've guessed?"
Giles chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment." He assayed a slight bow, trying to hide the delight he took in the praise. Jack was the director of the Vandivort, Sunnydale's well-respected community theater. One of his hallmarks was an outstanding Christmas show, and Giles had suggested his one-man performance with no little trepidation. Jack responded with great enthusiasm, however, and had even offered to direct Giles. The former librarian thought he knew his Dickens, but Jack, a tall man with thinning hair who covered a perfectionist's soul with a laid-back veneer, provided insights that enabled Giles to discover fresh nuances in the work.
"No," Jack said. "Thank you for doing this. I think this will be a real treat for a lot of people." Giles gathered up his things, thanked Jack again for the help, and left the theater. He stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the night air. It was decidedly unfrosty, but Giles consoled himself with the knowledge that somewhere, at this very moment, someone was caroling.
***
Faith crossed the railroad tracks, her boots clunking against the steel rails. The headlight of a night freight was visible far up the track and on impulse she stepped close to the tracks and closed her eyes. She could feel the ground trembling beneath her feet. The vibration intensified as the train drew closer. She could hear the rhythmic clack of the wheels on the track and the brightness of the light was detectable even through closed eyelids. Then the piercing shriek of the whistle split the night and it was upon her. The wind of the freight's passing tugged at her clothes and she was enveloped in a cloud of grit and debris. The train rushed by in a blur less than an arm's length away. If she wanted, she could reach out, grab hold and let it snatch her away from all this.
With a last swirl of dust and wind and the scream of its whistle the train vanished into the night. Faith opened her eyes and stared into the pale face of a girl standing on the other side of the tracks. The dark Slayer watched the girl step across the tracks, her feet maneuvering over the obstacles with great precision. The girl crossed a few feet to Faith's right and when she drew even with the Slayer she turned and looked at her.
"Hey," the girl said.
"Hey," Faith replied. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a walk."
Faith looked around at the deserted street. "Little late, don't you think?"
The girl shrugged. "You're out."
"Yeah, well, I've got business."
"Oh, I see." The girl looked around at the dry grass poking through the white gravel scattered along the right of way and the locked metal-walled buildings. "Must be pretty solitary business."
"It's my business."
The girl studied the Slayer more carefully. "You're Faith, aren't you?"
Faith tensed. "I don't know you."
"Oh, I've heard about you. Dark, pretty, kinda tense."
"Heard about me from who?"
The girl waved a hand. "Oh, some girl at school. Kind of a funny name... Muffy, no..."
"Buffy." Faith's voice was flat and affectless.
The girl snapped her fingers. "That's it. Buffy. She a friend of yours?"
Faith pursed her lips. "I think this conversation's over."
The girl winced. "Ouch. History there, huh?"
Faith started to walk away then turned back. "I thought she was my friend. She wasn't. End of story. No history."
"Yeah, it's probably best that way. The past can be pretty painful."
"Yeah, whatever," Faith said.
"Take you, for instance." The girl cocked her head to one side and looked at the Slayer.
A bitter smile curled Faith's lips. "You have no idea."
"So you're the girl the world pissed on." There was the faintest tone of challenge, of mockery in that statement. Faith's hands balled into fists.
"You're real close to the edge here," she spat through gritted teeth.
"Hey, hey, not looking for a fight here." The girl took a step back, raising her hands. It caused the too-big overcoat she wore to flap in the night air like giant batwings. "Just one last thing. The past is like an anchor. It can help you ride out a storm, but it can also pull you down and drown you." She turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.
"Thanks for the fortune cookie," Faith sneered.
***
Giles could still see the front door of the theater as he unlocked his car. Jack came outside and began locking up. He dropped the keys in his pocket and turned around when two figures sprang at him from the shadows. Giles dropped his garment bag and sprinted up the sidewalk. One of the attackers knocked Jack to the ground. Giles knew he would not get there in time. The assailant behind Jack opened his mouth wide; Giles saw the glint of fangs in the open maw. As he ran, Giles felt the pockets of his topcoat, trying to find anything. His fingers closed over something round and smooth. Skidding to a stop, Giles plucked the object out. It was a vial of holy water. A small crucifix on a chain was wrapped around its stopper.
Giles hefted the vial in his hand, took two steps and let fly. He didn't care for American baseball, but he'd been a fair cricket player in his day. The holy water described a lazy parabola and dropped directly onto the head of the vampire leaning over Jack. The bottle shattered, fluid soaking the head of one vampire and spattering the face of the other. Both screamed and clawed at their faces. Giles reached them, the crucifix dangling from his hand. One of the vampires, the one with the least holy water damage, reached for him. Giles swung the crucifix on its chain. The small gold cross arced through space and stuck in the fiend's eye. An unearthly howl rent the night. The vampire jerked back, cross lodged in its smoking eye socket, the chain dangling down its face. Undead flesh sizzled. The other vampire, blinded by its own melting face, reached out a groping hand and caught the chain. The cross came free, and the eyeball with it. Giles fought back nausea as the vampires struggled to their feet and staggered away. He wouldn't be chasing them tonight.
Shivering, Giles knelt over his supine friend. "Are you all right?" he gasped.
A shaken Jack stirred. "Rupert? God, what happened?"
"I'm not sure," Giles replied, trying to think of a plausible explanation as he helped Jack to his feet.
Jack brushed off the knees of his trousers and dusted his hands together. "Probably kids. They know we've got sound equipment in the theater. They think they can fence it for a few bucks to buy crank."
That sounded like a fine reason to Giles. "Yes, drugs. What a terrible, terrible scourge on our young people," he commiserated.
***
"So there were how many?"
"Seven." Buffy closed her locker and turned to face Xander. She wore a baseball cap and oversized shades to hide the massive black eye and bruised forehead she sported after the previous night's battle.
Xander scratched his neck. "Aren't our pointy-mouthed buds usually of the solitary persuasion?"
"My take exactly." Buffy adjusted her sunglasses.
"Harris. Summers. Just the sound of your names is enough to ruin my day." They winced and turned to face Principal Snyder. Xander plastered a huge, insincere grin on his face.
"And a ho-ho-ho Merry Christmas to you, sir."
Snyder glared at him. "Don't tax your brain and my patience any further. Both of you missed your afternoon classes yesterday. Why?"
Xander started the tag team. "Well, it is the holidays..." He looked at Buffy.
She picked up the thread. "We were just so full of that holiday spirit..."
"Right, that we just couldn't stay here, so we--"
Snyder waved a dismissive hand. "I don't really care what the actual reason was. I just know that proper procedure was not followed, which means that you two are going to be my guests in detention for, oh, let's say two weeks. Not only that, but--"
"Buffy. Xander." Josie waved at them from behind Snyder. He glanced at her and then reacted as though a scorpion had dropped down his pants. "Hey, Buffy, thanks for the shoulder yesterday," Josie said. Snyder looked as though he were choking. Buffy ignored him.
"You're welcome," she said. "I was just trying to help." Snyder inched away. Buffy turned to him. "Principal Snyder, what about detention?"
"Forget about it." He threw the words over his shoulder as he quick-walked away.
"I don't know what you did," Xander said as he watched the principal disappear around a corner, "but I'd like to order a double."
"Me?" Josie shrugged. "I didn't do nothin'."
***
"Ah, I'm glad you stopped by. I needed to talk to you."
"I figured as much." Buffy tossed her cap onto the table and removed her sunglasses.
"Good Lord," Giles sputtered. "What happened to you?"
"This?" Buffy pointed toward her forehead. The blue-and-green bruise extended into her hairline. A swollen ring of purple-black surrounded her eye. "Tangled with a vampire who'd seen Roadhouse. I'll be as good as new in twenty-four."
Giles looked at her for a moment. "Well, if you're sure about that, then I'll tell you this. There seems to be great agitation among the undead of Sunnydale."
"Gee, who would've guessed it? I guess that's why I ended up tangling with seven uglies at once."
Giles' eyebrows shot up. "Seven? Why, that's, that's almost like a... a..."
"A gang? Then I guess these guys would be the Bloods."
Giles frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Buffy waved him off. "Never mind. I guess I'm a little punchy."
"Seven?" Giles rubbed his chin. "How did you ever win?"
"Help from an unexpected quarter. Angel showed up."
Giles' eyebrows rose even higher. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps you shouldn't patrol tonight."
"Gee, how great minds think alike." Buffy's voice was dry. "Any idea whether Josie is a factor in this little situation?"
Giles raised his hands palm up. "She is a variable, but I can't say for sure."
"Well, something's a little hinky about her."
"How so?"
Buffy gave him a 'come on' look. "She shows up in Sunnydale at Christmas, she bonds with our little gang... It's all a little too, if you get my drift. Plus she gives Snyder the wig."
"How so?"
"Oh, he was running some smack on Xander and me when she walked up. Snyder acted like he'd eaten a bug." Buffy smiled at the memory.
Giles stepped behind the desk and hauled out a thick volume. "I'll keep looking. In the meantime, I don't want you patrolling tonight." Buffy snapped him a salute, put on her cap and shades and left. As the doors swung shut Giles reached under the counter and yanked out the catalog. "I'm ordering that crossbow today," he muttered.
***
Too bad there's no money in wandering the streets, Xander though as he strolled along. It was a sunny afternoon, but it could have been raining toads (which, come to think of it, was possible in Sunnydale) and he would still avoid going home. It just seemed so much easier that way.
"Lost in thought, or just lost?"
He jumped and whirled and maybe, just maybe, made a little yipping noise that could be called a scream. Josie stood there.
"Whoa," he said. "Was that really necessary?"
She shrugged. "I suppose not, but it sure was fun. Are you on your way home?"
"Not bloody likely," Xander said in his worst English accent, which was pretty bad. "Actually, this is part of a personal odyssey, a crusade, if you will, to memorize the entire street system of Sunnydale inch by inch."
"Wow." She was mock-impressed. "Sounds challenging."
"You know it."
She cocked her head to one side. "Don't get along with the family?"
Xander shrugged. "Spoken like someone who knows."
"Yeah, I kinda understand it."
Xander resumed walking. "Is it so hard for people to just get along? And not in the Rodney King, 'please let's stop killing each other' kind of way. I mean, in a 'hey, we're blood relatives, let's treat each other better than crap' kind of way."
"That bad, huh?"
Xander's laugh was a bitter parody of amusement. "It makes for a seriously warped Christmas."
"Ah yes, the old 'don't get along with the family.' Problem number twenty-six." Josie shook her head, letting the breeze lift her hair and the sun shine on her face. "Okay, you're family's a mess. But you're not the only one with that problem."
"Please." Xander squinted at the sun. "No one has a family even remotely like the Harrises."
"What about Cordelia?"
"Cor? She's got problems, but family isn't one of them."
"How do you know?" Josie's hair whipped across her face as she looked at him.
"Well, I guess I really don't, since there's never been any contact there."
"Okay. Don't think I'll pick that scab anymore. So you're family's a mess. What about Buffy?"
He shrugged. "Her mom's cool. She seems to get along pretty good with her dad."
"So Buffy is the one who's got it made."
Xander smiled. "I wouldn't say that."
Josie stepped close to him. Xander could smell her hair. He felt a little dizzy. "You're funny," Josie said, her voice just a notch above a whisper. "But you shouldn't hide behind it."
Xander blinked. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "Excuse me?" he said. As she stepped away, he called out, "Where are you going?"
She turned and spread her arms wide. "Back to Oz's. He's cool." Her coat swirled around her. "Get happy. It's Christmas." She turned and walked away from him, taking long, confident strides down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
"Well, Dick," Xander said, to no one in particular. "I give it a ninety-eight on the wig-o-meter. It had a good beat and it definitely freaked me out."