"So Giles, what's up?" Buffy said as she pushed through the library's doors. She continued past the counter and sat down at the table, propping her booted feet on it.
Giles came around the counter and approached the table. "Something very perplexing has occurred--"
"Wait, wait. I know this one." Buffy spread her arms and closed her eyes. "Let's see... Some prophecy predicting Armageddon? The end of the world? The return of A-Ha?"
Giles stopped, hand on his heart. "Oh dear Lord, nothing so dire as that, I hope." Buffy sat up, staring at him. He gave her a stern look. "Are we done feeling superior to the doddering old Watcher?"
Buffy fingers danced delicately on the table. "Okay, I deserved that. For real this time?"
Giles sat down, forearms resting on the tabletop. The knot in his tie was pulled loose. "I had a visitor last night." He looked down at his clasped hands. "Angel showed up on my doorstep."
Buffy leaned toward him. "Giles, was... is everything... all right?"
"I didn't invite him in." Giles opened his hands and stared at the palms. "For many reasons. He did, however, confirm your impression about this girl. She frightens him."
"I know you don't want to hear me defend him, but he's scared of a lot right now."
"Yes, I imagine he would be." Giles looked at her. "I don't doubt that he is the Angel you knew before... but when I saw him standing there, when I remembered... I thought... I thought I had dealt with everything, but when I actually saw him..." His eyes glittered and his voice held a harshness that reminded Buffy that inside her gentle Watcher was the remnant of the Ripper. "I still can't find it in my heart to feel sympathy toward him." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he was the old Giles. "I hope you understand."
"I do." Buffy cleared her throat. "So, what's our plan about Josie?"
Giles shrugged. "I thought I'd visit her tonight."
***
Cordelia studied her nails as the teacher lectured. "So Jung's theory of archetypes says that we are born knowing, or at least sensing, certain things. That explains why--" The bell rang. Cordelia scooped up her books and left the room, joining the flow of students changing classes.
"Cordelia. Just the person I was looking for."
Cordelia glanced over her shoulder and saw Josie. "Oh, I'm so lucky. And you would be looking for me why?"
Josie made a 'no big deal' gesture. "I just wanted to thank you for the clothes." They arrived at Cordelia's locker. "Do you have pageant practice tonight?"
Cordelia worked her combination. "Yes. Why?"
Josie stuck out her lower lip. "Well, I don't know if I'll be here for the performance, so I thought I might come and watch rehearsal."
That got Cordelia's attention. "Really. Are you thinking of leaving us?" She gave Josie a smile as genuine as Dennis Miller's humility.
Josie reflected it right back at her. "You never know what might happen. Would it be okay if I stopped by the church?"
Cordelia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Sure. Whatever. Tonight's dress rehearsal."
"Great. I'll see you then. And thanks again for the clothes." Josie started to leave, remembered something and turned back. "You know, you shouldn't try to carry it all by yourself. They will help if you'll let them."
"Excuse me?" Cordelia tilted her head. "What self-help book did you pull that out of?"
Josie stepped closer and stared into the other girl's eyes. Cordelia found herself unable to look away; the other girl's green eyes bored into her, through her, rendering her transparent. "You're better than you let them see."
Cordelia shook her head. Why did she feel so cobwebby? "What?"
Josie's voice was very soft and she looked very sad. "And you're better than you let yourself see." She looked away. Cordelia almost stumbled, like someone had pulled away a chair she was leaning on. Josie was walking away. "Listen," she said over her shoulder, "I'll see you tonight."
Cordelia watched her leave and thought, 'Not if I see you first.'
***
A muffled thumping shook the trap door. Josie put down the book she was reading. "Who is it?" she called out.
"Oz."
"Oh. Come on up." The door rose and Oz's head slowly appeared in the opening. Josie's face was puzzled as she met his eyes. "Anything wrong?" she said.
"Uh, no. I just wanted to make sure you weren't, you know."
"Well, I'm not."
"Cool." Oz clambered into the attic but instead of closing the door he stepped to one side. Giles climbed up the ladder, looking rather stiff even in dark pants and a baggy sweater. Josie cocked her head to one side. Giles extended his hand, which she grasped.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Josie." She wore a black long-sleeved T over baggy jeans.
Giles nodded. "Well, unless Oz has a colony of young women living over his garage, I had rather assumed that. I'm--"
"Mr. Giles, the school librarian. I know." She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
"Yes, but how did you know that?"
She shrugged. "It's a big deal? Come on, who doesn't know the school librarian?"
Giles pursed his lips. "The majority of Sunnydale students, I can assure you of that." He turned to Oz. "Could you possibly excuse us?"
Oz looked from the Watcher to the girl. "Sure," he said and climbed back down, closing the door over his head.
Giles kept his voice light and pleasant. "Forgive me if I seem abrupt, but who are you?"
Josie spread her hands, looking baffled. "I'm a sixteen year old high school student."
Giles held up an index finger. "Yes, you see, that's interesting, because you don't actually seem to be enrolled at Sunnydale High." Josie said nothing, just gave Giles an 'Is that so?' look. "Shall I go on?" he said.
Josie giggled. "'Shall I go on?' What is this, a Hitchcock movie? You sound like a prosecuting attorney."
Giles looked vaguely offended at her response. "I simply want to know who you are."
"Why? Who do you think that I am, Mr. Giles?" She looked frankly into his eyes. They locked stares for a long moment. Giles did not break eye contact as he spoke.
"I do not know exactly, but I suspect that you are a great deal more than a sixteen year old girl."
Josie shrugged. "And I suspect that you are a great deal more than a school librarian."
"Touché." Giles voice was quiet.
Josie waved a hand at him. "Don't be so mistrustful, Giles. Despite what you think, you're not the only one who cares about Buffy and her future."
"I don't recall mentioning Buffy."
Josie rolled her eyes. "You didn't. I did. Geez, Giles, next time ask for light starch in that underwear." Giles looked shocked. Josie arched one eyebrow. "What, only the chosen few get to make jokes?"
"Who are you?" Giles said again.
"Let's just say I have a job to do."
"What kind of job?" he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
She shook her head. "I watch. I observe. I make reports." She grinned. "I guess in some ways I'm a lot like you."
"Report to whom?" he asked. "My guess is it's no one on earth." She touched an index finger to her nose.
"Give the man a lolly," she said.
"You haven't answered my question."
"How do I do that?" Josie tugged at one ear. "I can't name him in your language."
Giles looked flinty. "Try me."
Josie looked around the attic before settling her gaze on the Watcher. "He is the Name. He Who Must Be Obeyed."
A sardonic glint flashed behind Giles' glasses. "You serve Leo McKern?"
"Hey, nice catch. Most people don't make the Rumpole of the Bailey connection." Josie shook out her hair.
"Most people haven't seen Rumpole of the Bailey," Giles said. He crossed his arms in front of him. "You do realize that this all sounds very delusional."
Josie eyes widened. "Does this seem delusional, Mr. Giles?" She leaned toward him and for a split-second her face blurred. An image of the old Godley and Crème video for "Cry" flashed through Giles' head. Whatever subcutaneous movement he'd seen stopped. Her face was still recognizable, but it had changed. Now it was a face of such beauty and power that a cold finger of dread touched his spine. Even her voice was different, rich and musical in a way that thrilled and terrified him. He took a step back. His head bumped the light bulb hanging from the rafters. Crazy shadows instantly crisscrossed the space, making her look even more uncanny. Then she shook her head and she was suddenly just a schoolgirl again.
"You shouldn't be glib, Mr. Giles." Her smile was apologetic and rueful. "Sorry if I scared you, but it really pisses me off." She began to pace back and forth across the attic. "You humans all hate mystery so much. Nothing bothers you more than not knowing; you can't just accept anything. That's why you have to try and quantify everything, to name the nameless and pretend you understand it."
"Pardon me for interrupting your tirade," Giles snapped, "but we are engaged in serious business here. You obviously have some involvement. What is your intention? Which side are you on?"
She giggled, the bubbling snicker of a small child. "That's great. You guys think you're one of the sides don't you?"
Giles frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Of course you don't. You always think you're fighting the war, but the truth is the war's being fought over you."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, Mr. Giles, I'd love to continue our lovely dialogue, but I really have to go." She picked up her coat.
"But..." He started to protest but then realized that it was imperative for her to leave. At least that thought popped into his head from somewhere.
"You're a nice man, but I have other places to be. Take care of yourself. Watch out for Buffy." She smiled and extended her hand.
"Well, yes, of course." Giles grasped her hand. "You will be careful?"
"That's sweet. Thank you."
After he descended the ladder Josie put on her coat. As she lowered herself through the door she looked around the attic. "They really were quite nice," she said to herself. She looked up at the light. It blinked out and darkness filled the attic.
***
Buffy crept through the darkness. Her caution seemed ludicrous. The vamp gang ahead of her made so much noise she could probably ride up on a Harley and tossing out cherry bombs and they still wouldn't notice her. Luckily this industrial area of Sunnydale was all but deserted after dark. The vampires came to a security fence surrounding a warehouse. After an interminable amount of pushing and shouting they clambered over. She moved away along the chain link fence until she found a gap. As she slipped through she noticed that the ends of the wire were still bright and shiny where they'd been cut. Probably thieves inside the company planning a little late night help yourself party. As the demons clustered in a ragged huddle on the concrete lot Buffy searched the area around a loading dock for an impromptu weapon. A five-foot length of half-inch pipe felt just about perfect. She crouched behind the dock's shadowy bulk as she plotted her attack. Six vamps were a lot, especially with her ribs still sore, but the way these monsters acted made her think she could take them-they behaved like frat guys on the sixth keg. Lots of arguing, some clumsy fights and a lot of oafish footwork. Buffy eased her makeshift steel quarterstaff into her left hand, preparing to advance on them by stealth. She kept her breathing shallow; it was really cold tonight and she didn't want the vapor from her breath betraying her.
A movement in the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. Someone was walking across the lot. The vampires noticed; they spread out to surround this fresh meat. Buffy sighed. Surprise was out of the question now. She jumped up on the dock.
"Hey guys," she said. "Ignoring a girl is a sure way to hurt her feelings." It was almost comical to watch six fanged heads swivel to look at her, at their approaching meal, then back to her. Buffy jumped off the dock into their midst. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, swinging the pipe. It caught a wire-skinny vampire upside the head. He went down in a heap. The others took a step back. Buffy whipped the pipe around in a figure eight, her hands moving so fast the weapon was a blur, the sound of air passing over the pipe's open ends filling the night with a humming sound like a creepy digeridoo. She brought it around, locked it under her left arm and jabbed forward. The end struck a vampire in the chest, driving him backwards. She pivoted on her left foot, sweeping the pipe around in a huge arc. It caught the vampire sneaking up behind her high on the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. She turned back, but the first vamp was nowhere to be found. Buffy almost relaxed-a vampire that ran away would be good news. She heard the crunch of boot on gravel and shoved the pipe backward. A grunt and a loud moan of pain were her reward. Movement swirled around her, but she noticed little of it. Her focus was on the foe in front of her, a female with nails that looked like they would make dandy weapons. Buffy swung the pipe but this vampire was smarter. She dropped to the ground and rolled, popping to her feet inside the arc of the staff. Buffy discarded the pipe without a second thought, tossing it away with her left hand while she plucked a stake from her belt with her right. She threw a left jab. The female vamp slipped it. Buffy shuffled back and threw out a left-footed kick. The vampire caught it on the outside of her right shoulder, absorbing most of the force. Her left hand shot forward and caught Buffy by the throat. The Slayer felt those ragged talons break the skin just before as the look of horror and knowledge entered the vampire's eyes.
"That's why you should never invade someone's personal space." Buffy watched the ashes blow away. She realized that there were no other vampires, but someone was standing behind her. She wheeled, stake high. She froze for a heartbeat, then lowered the stake. "Faith."
Faith stared back, eyes hooded, face unreadable. Her arms were folded; her own stake dangled loosely from her right hand.
"Wow," Buffy said, "and I thought they all ran away." A forced laugh followed.
"They didn't." Faith shifted her weight, one hip cocked. The breeze stirred up a swirl of ashes, underscoring her words. Buffy nodded.
"Thanks for the assist. It was almost like old times."
Faith's face hardened. "If you say so." She started to walk away."
"Faith, wait." Buffy extended a hand. "It doesn't have to be this way."
"No?" Faith looked over her shoulder. "What way does it have to be?"
Buffy swallowed, searching for words. "When does it stop? What'll be enough?" Faith squinted but she didn't walk away. Buffy plunged on. "I know you're hurt and angry and you have every right to be. But are you going to spend every waking moment of every day from now on like this? When you kill Trick, will that set you free? What if it doesn't?"
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
"Faith, it's Christmas. Remember when you said you were alone? You're not."
Faith shook her head. "Don't tell me you know how I feel or I swear to God I'll kick your ass right now."
Buffy looked right into the other Slayer's eyes. "I'm not talking about me. Or Giles, or Willow, or Xander... Faith, you've got my mom. I know... I know that our friendship may be beyond fixing, but my mom loves you."
For a heartbeat Faith wavered. The mask dropped, revealing a look of such open longing that Buffy's heart stuttered. Then the dark Slayer pointed. "You're neck's bleeding."
In reflex Buffy's hand went to the scars from Trick's bite. She felt nothing, then realized that Faith was pointing to the other side of her neck, to the spot where the female vamp had grabbed her. Her fingers came away stained red.
"Yeah," Faith said, walking away.
Giles came around the counter and approached the table. "Something very perplexing has occurred--"
"Wait, wait. I know this one." Buffy spread her arms and closed her eyes. "Let's see... Some prophecy predicting Armageddon? The end of the world? The return of A-Ha?"
Giles stopped, hand on his heart. "Oh dear Lord, nothing so dire as that, I hope." Buffy sat up, staring at him. He gave her a stern look. "Are we done feeling superior to the doddering old Watcher?"
Buffy fingers danced delicately on the table. "Okay, I deserved that. For real this time?"
Giles sat down, forearms resting on the tabletop. The knot in his tie was pulled loose. "I had a visitor last night." He looked down at his clasped hands. "Angel showed up on my doorstep."
Buffy leaned toward him. "Giles, was... is everything... all right?"
"I didn't invite him in." Giles opened his hands and stared at the palms. "For many reasons. He did, however, confirm your impression about this girl. She frightens him."
"I know you don't want to hear me defend him, but he's scared of a lot right now."
"Yes, I imagine he would be." Giles looked at her. "I don't doubt that he is the Angel you knew before... but when I saw him standing there, when I remembered... I thought... I thought I had dealt with everything, but when I actually saw him..." His eyes glittered and his voice held a harshness that reminded Buffy that inside her gentle Watcher was the remnant of the Ripper. "I still can't find it in my heart to feel sympathy toward him." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he was the old Giles. "I hope you understand."
"I do." Buffy cleared her throat. "So, what's our plan about Josie?"
Giles shrugged. "I thought I'd visit her tonight."
***
Cordelia studied her nails as the teacher lectured. "So Jung's theory of archetypes says that we are born knowing, or at least sensing, certain things. That explains why--" The bell rang. Cordelia scooped up her books and left the room, joining the flow of students changing classes.
"Cordelia. Just the person I was looking for."
Cordelia glanced over her shoulder and saw Josie. "Oh, I'm so lucky. And you would be looking for me why?"
Josie made a 'no big deal' gesture. "I just wanted to thank you for the clothes." They arrived at Cordelia's locker. "Do you have pageant practice tonight?"
Cordelia worked her combination. "Yes. Why?"
Josie stuck out her lower lip. "Well, I don't know if I'll be here for the performance, so I thought I might come and watch rehearsal."
That got Cordelia's attention. "Really. Are you thinking of leaving us?" She gave Josie a smile as genuine as Dennis Miller's humility.
Josie reflected it right back at her. "You never know what might happen. Would it be okay if I stopped by the church?"
Cordelia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Sure. Whatever. Tonight's dress rehearsal."
"Great. I'll see you then. And thanks again for the clothes." Josie started to leave, remembered something and turned back. "You know, you shouldn't try to carry it all by yourself. They will help if you'll let them."
"Excuse me?" Cordelia tilted her head. "What self-help book did you pull that out of?"
Josie stepped closer and stared into the other girl's eyes. Cordelia found herself unable to look away; the other girl's green eyes bored into her, through her, rendering her transparent. "You're better than you let them see."
Cordelia shook her head. Why did she feel so cobwebby? "What?"
Josie's voice was very soft and she looked very sad. "And you're better than you let yourself see." She looked away. Cordelia almost stumbled, like someone had pulled away a chair she was leaning on. Josie was walking away. "Listen," she said over her shoulder, "I'll see you tonight."
Cordelia watched her leave and thought, 'Not if I see you first.'
***
A muffled thumping shook the trap door. Josie put down the book she was reading. "Who is it?" she called out.
"Oz."
"Oh. Come on up." The door rose and Oz's head slowly appeared in the opening. Josie's face was puzzled as she met his eyes. "Anything wrong?" she said.
"Uh, no. I just wanted to make sure you weren't, you know."
"Well, I'm not."
"Cool." Oz clambered into the attic but instead of closing the door he stepped to one side. Giles climbed up the ladder, looking rather stiff even in dark pants and a baggy sweater. Josie cocked her head to one side. Giles extended his hand, which she grasped.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Josie." She wore a black long-sleeved T over baggy jeans.
Giles nodded. "Well, unless Oz has a colony of young women living over his garage, I had rather assumed that. I'm--"
"Mr. Giles, the school librarian. I know." She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
"Yes, but how did you know that?"
She shrugged. "It's a big deal? Come on, who doesn't know the school librarian?"
Giles pursed his lips. "The majority of Sunnydale students, I can assure you of that." He turned to Oz. "Could you possibly excuse us?"
Oz looked from the Watcher to the girl. "Sure," he said and climbed back down, closing the door over his head.
Giles kept his voice light and pleasant. "Forgive me if I seem abrupt, but who are you?"
Josie spread her hands, looking baffled. "I'm a sixteen year old high school student."
Giles held up an index finger. "Yes, you see, that's interesting, because you don't actually seem to be enrolled at Sunnydale High." Josie said nothing, just gave Giles an 'Is that so?' look. "Shall I go on?" he said.
Josie giggled. "'Shall I go on?' What is this, a Hitchcock movie? You sound like a prosecuting attorney."
Giles looked vaguely offended at her response. "I simply want to know who you are."
"Why? Who do you think that I am, Mr. Giles?" She looked frankly into his eyes. They locked stares for a long moment. Giles did not break eye contact as he spoke.
"I do not know exactly, but I suspect that you are a great deal more than a sixteen year old girl."
Josie shrugged. "And I suspect that you are a great deal more than a school librarian."
"Touché." Giles voice was quiet.
Josie waved a hand at him. "Don't be so mistrustful, Giles. Despite what you think, you're not the only one who cares about Buffy and her future."
"I don't recall mentioning Buffy."
Josie rolled her eyes. "You didn't. I did. Geez, Giles, next time ask for light starch in that underwear." Giles looked shocked. Josie arched one eyebrow. "What, only the chosen few get to make jokes?"
"Who are you?" Giles said again.
"Let's just say I have a job to do."
"What kind of job?" he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
She shook her head. "I watch. I observe. I make reports." She grinned. "I guess in some ways I'm a lot like you."
"Report to whom?" he asked. "My guess is it's no one on earth." She touched an index finger to her nose.
"Give the man a lolly," she said.
"You haven't answered my question."
"How do I do that?" Josie tugged at one ear. "I can't name him in your language."
Giles looked flinty. "Try me."
Josie looked around the attic before settling her gaze on the Watcher. "He is the Name. He Who Must Be Obeyed."
A sardonic glint flashed behind Giles' glasses. "You serve Leo McKern?"
"Hey, nice catch. Most people don't make the Rumpole of the Bailey connection." Josie shook out her hair.
"Most people haven't seen Rumpole of the Bailey," Giles said. He crossed his arms in front of him. "You do realize that this all sounds very delusional."
Josie eyes widened. "Does this seem delusional, Mr. Giles?" She leaned toward him and for a split-second her face blurred. An image of the old Godley and Crème video for "Cry" flashed through Giles' head. Whatever subcutaneous movement he'd seen stopped. Her face was still recognizable, but it had changed. Now it was a face of such beauty and power that a cold finger of dread touched his spine. Even her voice was different, rich and musical in a way that thrilled and terrified him. He took a step back. His head bumped the light bulb hanging from the rafters. Crazy shadows instantly crisscrossed the space, making her look even more uncanny. Then she shook her head and she was suddenly just a schoolgirl again.
"You shouldn't be glib, Mr. Giles." Her smile was apologetic and rueful. "Sorry if I scared you, but it really pisses me off." She began to pace back and forth across the attic. "You humans all hate mystery so much. Nothing bothers you more than not knowing; you can't just accept anything. That's why you have to try and quantify everything, to name the nameless and pretend you understand it."
"Pardon me for interrupting your tirade," Giles snapped, "but we are engaged in serious business here. You obviously have some involvement. What is your intention? Which side are you on?"
She giggled, the bubbling snicker of a small child. "That's great. You guys think you're one of the sides don't you?"
Giles frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Of course you don't. You always think you're fighting the war, but the truth is the war's being fought over you."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, Mr. Giles, I'd love to continue our lovely dialogue, but I really have to go." She picked up her coat.
"But..." He started to protest but then realized that it was imperative for her to leave. At least that thought popped into his head from somewhere.
"You're a nice man, but I have other places to be. Take care of yourself. Watch out for Buffy." She smiled and extended her hand.
"Well, yes, of course." Giles grasped her hand. "You will be careful?"
"That's sweet. Thank you."
After he descended the ladder Josie put on her coat. As she lowered herself through the door she looked around the attic. "They really were quite nice," she said to herself. She looked up at the light. It blinked out and darkness filled the attic.
***
Buffy crept through the darkness. Her caution seemed ludicrous. The vamp gang ahead of her made so much noise she could probably ride up on a Harley and tossing out cherry bombs and they still wouldn't notice her. Luckily this industrial area of Sunnydale was all but deserted after dark. The vampires came to a security fence surrounding a warehouse. After an interminable amount of pushing and shouting they clambered over. She moved away along the chain link fence until she found a gap. As she slipped through she noticed that the ends of the wire were still bright and shiny where they'd been cut. Probably thieves inside the company planning a little late night help yourself party. As the demons clustered in a ragged huddle on the concrete lot Buffy searched the area around a loading dock for an impromptu weapon. A five-foot length of half-inch pipe felt just about perfect. She crouched behind the dock's shadowy bulk as she plotted her attack. Six vamps were a lot, especially with her ribs still sore, but the way these monsters acted made her think she could take them-they behaved like frat guys on the sixth keg. Lots of arguing, some clumsy fights and a lot of oafish footwork. Buffy eased her makeshift steel quarterstaff into her left hand, preparing to advance on them by stealth. She kept her breathing shallow; it was really cold tonight and she didn't want the vapor from her breath betraying her.
A movement in the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. Someone was walking across the lot. The vampires noticed; they spread out to surround this fresh meat. Buffy sighed. Surprise was out of the question now. She jumped up on the dock.
"Hey guys," she said. "Ignoring a girl is a sure way to hurt her feelings." It was almost comical to watch six fanged heads swivel to look at her, at their approaching meal, then back to her. Buffy jumped off the dock into their midst. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, swinging the pipe. It caught a wire-skinny vampire upside the head. He went down in a heap. The others took a step back. Buffy whipped the pipe around in a figure eight, her hands moving so fast the weapon was a blur, the sound of air passing over the pipe's open ends filling the night with a humming sound like a creepy digeridoo. She brought it around, locked it under her left arm and jabbed forward. The end struck a vampire in the chest, driving him backwards. She pivoted on her left foot, sweeping the pipe around in a huge arc. It caught the vampire sneaking up behind her high on the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. She turned back, but the first vamp was nowhere to be found. Buffy almost relaxed-a vampire that ran away would be good news. She heard the crunch of boot on gravel and shoved the pipe backward. A grunt and a loud moan of pain were her reward. Movement swirled around her, but she noticed little of it. Her focus was on the foe in front of her, a female with nails that looked like they would make dandy weapons. Buffy swung the pipe but this vampire was smarter. She dropped to the ground and rolled, popping to her feet inside the arc of the staff. Buffy discarded the pipe without a second thought, tossing it away with her left hand while she plucked a stake from her belt with her right. She threw a left jab. The female vamp slipped it. Buffy shuffled back and threw out a left-footed kick. The vampire caught it on the outside of her right shoulder, absorbing most of the force. Her left hand shot forward and caught Buffy by the throat. The Slayer felt those ragged talons break the skin just before as the look of horror and knowledge entered the vampire's eyes.
"That's why you should never invade someone's personal space." Buffy watched the ashes blow away. She realized that there were no other vampires, but someone was standing behind her. She wheeled, stake high. She froze for a heartbeat, then lowered the stake. "Faith."
Faith stared back, eyes hooded, face unreadable. Her arms were folded; her own stake dangled loosely from her right hand.
"Wow," Buffy said, "and I thought they all ran away." A forced laugh followed.
"They didn't." Faith shifted her weight, one hip cocked. The breeze stirred up a swirl of ashes, underscoring her words. Buffy nodded.
"Thanks for the assist. It was almost like old times."
Faith's face hardened. "If you say so." She started to walk away."
"Faith, wait." Buffy extended a hand. "It doesn't have to be this way."
"No?" Faith looked over her shoulder. "What way does it have to be?"
Buffy swallowed, searching for words. "When does it stop? What'll be enough?" Faith squinted but she didn't walk away. Buffy plunged on. "I know you're hurt and angry and you have every right to be. But are you going to spend every waking moment of every day from now on like this? When you kill Trick, will that set you free? What if it doesn't?"
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
"Faith, it's Christmas. Remember when you said you were alone? You're not."
Faith shook her head. "Don't tell me you know how I feel or I swear to God I'll kick your ass right now."
Buffy looked right into the other Slayer's eyes. "I'm not talking about me. Or Giles, or Willow, or Xander... Faith, you've got my mom. I know... I know that our friendship may be beyond fixing, but my mom loves you."
For a heartbeat Faith wavered. The mask dropped, revealing a look of such open longing that Buffy's heart stuttered. Then the dark Slayer pointed. "You're neck's bleeding."
In reflex Buffy's hand went to the scars from Trick's bite. She felt nothing, then realized that Faith was pointing to the other side of her neck, to the spot where the female vamp had grabbed her. Her fingers came away stained red.
"Yeah," Faith said, walking away.