CHAPTER 7: OLD HABITS

I know it hurts, what you believe:
That everything is just as it seems

The walls are cracked, the road is long
And I can't tell if their will is that strong

To force a change in the light to relieve you from strife
To force a change in the heart as it all comes crashing down

You never will see it,
You never will know,
You never will feel it,
and where did you go?

            ~Naked Birthday, Switchblade Symphony
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The streets of Sunnydale seemed deserted as Faith strolled down the main street sidewalk, occasionally ducking her head into a side alley, idly twirling a stake between her fingertips as she went. It was bold—she knew there was a chance that a vamp might see her stake and run—but most vamps were so stupid and aggressive that they rarely gave thought to minor matters such as stakes, their urge to kill overwhelming their instinct to survive. Most of them saw a stake as a challenge to fight, anyway, if they noticed it at all, and a lone girl walking down darkened streets was too much like a free lunch to pass up. Besides, she'd been patrolling for a few hours without incident… the last few nights without incident, truth told. She'd given up hunting the graveyards the last few nights because they were so…well…dead.

The vampires had been keeping a low profile lately, as if they knew a Slayer was back in town, not to mention that summer was always notoriously slow on weird activity, even on the Hellmouth. She'd just about decided to take another pass by the park, when a glass shop door flew open not ten feet in front of her.

A vampire ran out, thick tome stuffed under one arm, and without looking left or right, took off down the street away from the town center.

Faith flipped the stake up in the air, caught it expertly in the ready position, and took off after it, the hard heels of her boots pounding against the pavement as she closed the distance between her and the creature. It knew she was there, now, and it didn't pause to look back at her as it increased its speed.

She pressed on, gaining speed, and gathered herself for a leap, pushing off with one foot in mid-stride. Tackling the creature to the ground, she pounded the stake through the back of its rib cage and into its heart, barely giving it time to scream in outrage. A second later she lay on the pavement amidst a pile of dust, rounded corners of the book pressing uncomfortably into her stomach. Pushing up with her arms, she sprang to her feet and then leaned to grab the book from the ground.

The second vamp bowled into her like a lineman, simultaneously bending to snatch the book while catching her with its shoulder before she could fully regain her balance. She fell back on her butt, hitting the ground so hard that her teeth rattled and her tailbone bruised, but she didn't waste a second, climbing to her feet and spinning—

The street was empty.

It had to have gone down a side alley, she thought, and took off running for the nearest one. She turned hard to make the corner and was surprised as someone stepped in her path, blocking her way.

She tried to stop, but she collided with him anyway, managing to turn her head aside as she fell, full weight forward, against his chest. She felt strong arms come up and around her, steadying her, and she looked up.

"Angel," she said with mild surprise, flashing him a bright grin. "We gotta stop meeting like this. People are gonna talk."

He stood there with his arms around her for a moment longer, Faith gazing up at him, still thrown against him, and for a second, they looked like a picture on the cover of some dramatic romance novel… then he gently pushed her to her feet. Making sure she had her balance, he let go of her and took a step back, shifting and smiling uncomfortably. He scratched self-consciously at the back of his neck and lifted his hand to display the book the vamp had taken off with.

"I uh… found the book."

"Wow," she quipped cynically. Taking a step back, herself, she eyed him up and down critically, amused but resigned. "You know, the gypsies never said the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious stranger in my life was gonna be so boring."

"Be glad the gypsies decided to make me boring," he said with the faintest hint of a bitter smile.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Yeah, 'cause tragedy is so much more fun."

"Faith—"

"I know, I know," she said, annoyed, hooking her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, eyes turned skyward in exasperation. "'It's not a tragedy, it's a second chance'," she mocked in a dramatic tone. "Blah blah blah. Spare me the sermon, okay?" Shaking her head, she looked at him in disgusted wonderment. "What is it with you old people and lecturing, anyway?"

"Your agitation level is… Chernobyl-like," he commented with perplexed sarcasm.

"You try living with Der Fuhrer."

"I thought you said she wasn't so bad?" he asked, confused.

"Things change." She said it casually enough, but there was a touch of bitterness in her voice that was unmistakable.

He nodded, his mind making the connections quickly, and glanced down at the book in his hand. "She still giving you trouble about the books?"

Her whole casual façade seemed to falter, as if she were deciding how to answer the question, and he was suddenly aware of how much of a show she'd been putting on, how forced her casualness was; as if she had receded behind her walls and fallen into old deflective habits. She hadn't told him much about what had happened beyond the fact that Beatrice was suspicious about the fate of the books, but he could imagine the resulting mistrust, and how bitter that must be for Faith to face.

"No. Pretty much we don't talk," she said with a shrug, turning and beginning to walk. "Except for nightly reports. But I can hear the sermon she's giving me in her head."

He almost chuckled at her comment, then caught himself and frowned, seeming to struggle with his emotions as he fell into step beside her. "I feel bad… I mean, maybe we should have given her the books. It was your first night of patrol—"

"Hey, no big," she broke in, her voice breezy and unconcerned. She half-turned toward him as she took a step, hands gesturing upward from her sides, palms open. "It's done. Why dwell?"

She sounded so upbeat, so confident and sure of herself… but he could hear the pain undercutting her devil-may-care tone, grating like bright shards of broken glass. He knew that voice, knew it intimately.

"So, you got the book," she remarked, as if the previous subject were closed. "Good work. You got the whole Time/Life series yet?"

He didn't answer right away, still debating whether or not to pursue the subject of her Watcher. "I don't know," he said, finally, deciding to let it go for now. "I can't seem to make heads or tails of these texts. But considering the number of thefts there have been lately, there must be something to them."

"So, no ideas?" she asked, glancing over and up at him.

He looked back at her, not quite willing to share, but not wanting to shut her out, either. This was a delicate point for her, and he knew his actions could push her further away, but he wasn't quite ready to drag her into the scourge of the underworld. The less people that knew her or even knew of her, the safer she would be. "There's a guy…" he finally hedged.

"Great!" she said eagerly, excited as she stopped and turned toward him. Closing one hand in a fist, she hit her open palm with it and twisted. "Let's go rough him up and see what we can find out."

Damn. He should have known she'd be eager for distraction. "I—I should probably go alone. The less people that know about you, or that can connect me to you, the better."

"Oh…" she said, glancing away. She hesitated only a second, then, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she seemed to shrug with her whole body, eyes bouncing back to him brightly, almost fiercely.  "Right. The whole undercover thing." She nodded and put her hands in her jacket pockets, stepping backward. "That's cool."

"Faith… it's not that I don't want you to go. It's just… for the best right now."

"I get it," she said abruptly, her voice harsh with irritation. Then she paused, seeming to realize her control was slipping, and let her usual tough front fall back into place with practiced ease. "Hey, there's probably some vamps out there just itching for a good fight." She gave him a forced smile and stepped back again, turning to go.

"I'll let you know what I find out," he added quickly.

She paused, looking at him oddly. "Sure," she said with a quick nod. "Yeah. I'll see you later." Then she turned and strode off down the street at a rapid pace.

He watched her back recede into the distance and sighed. Two hundred and forty-four years… and he still had no idea how to deal with people.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

As soon as she was sure she was out of his sight, she slowed her pace, her fingers flexing their grip against the stake in her hand.

God, she hated this turmoil inside her, these conflicting emotions that threatened to pull her in a thousand different directions, tearing her away from herself until she didn't even know who she was anymore. That's what had gotten her into trouble in the first place, years ago. She'd gotten swept away by the wave of overwhelming emotional conflict, and rather than drown she'd decided to crest the wave and ride it, taking it all the way to the tidal destruction of everything she'd ever known. The resulting wreckage had seemed unsalvageable. The memories of her past were forever blackened by unforgivable sins, her soul forever tainted by the darkness she'd allowed to reign in her mind and heart. She couldn't get clean again… and she'd tried to destroy even the shattered remains of herself. And then, Angel… the push she needed to begin rebuilding. She'd started picking up the pieces, and for a little while, she'd thought she'd found herself—had found some peace, anyway. And now, here she was, back in Sunnydale with the second chance she'd always wanted… and it was exactly the same. The cycle was beginning again; the wave was building.

Wherever you go, there you are.

She smiled bitterly and stopped, shoving the stake in the waistband of her jeans and running her hands over her face. Collecting herself, she stepped onto the side street and leaned back against the brick wall of an old building, tilting her face up toward the star-filled night sky.

Why was she so upset, anyway? Angel had always been mysterio guy, brooding and lurking and close-mouthed. She knew he didn't mean anything by investigating without her; he probably did believe it was for the best. And if he'd bothered to break down all the reasons why, she'd have probably agreed with him. So why did it still hurt?

The truth was, she needed Angel. He was all she had to cling to right now, the only person she could trust, the only person she could rely on. If he deserted her, she'd truly be alone, and that scared her more than if she hadn't had anyone. She didn't like the idea of having so much be dependent on one person… that meant she had something to lose. She'd learned a long time ago not to give too much of herself to anyone… she'd never trusted more than parts of herself to people, and even then they'd betrayed her trust, every time. But, Angel… for some reason, he was different. He truly seemed to understand… part of her wanted to trust him… and somehow that made him the scariest person of all.

Maybe Ms. Hall could've been an ally, but she'd already screwed that up, hadn't she? There was no way she could have known Ms. H would know about the books… she had done what she thought best. Angel knew about that kind of stuff, and he was more connected to the goings on in Sunnydale than Ms. H… and, she had to admit, she trusted him more. It was impossible to forget how utterly cruel the Council could be. She'd seen them in action, first with B, and then with her. They would have hunted her into the ground if she hadn't turned herself over to the authorities, and even now they held the threat of death over her head to guarantee her obedience. How could she trust anything that came from them? She couldn't… and yet the rift between her and her Watcher was one that was causing her both guilt and unhappiness.

She swept her hair back from her face, resting her hands on top of her head, letting the cool of the brick seep through her, letting it soothe the stormy tide of emotions inside.

She could do this. She could. She just needed time to get herself together.

Pushing off from the wall, she let her hands fall to her sides and shook out her hair, taking a deep breath. With a determined step, she followed the side street back toward the neighborhoods of Sunnydale.

From the darkness, a pair of glinting eyes watched, and moved to follow her.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Angel descended the dank stairs, for a moment vaguely reminded of the sewers of his L.A. home. It was dark down here, and a normal human wouldn't be able to see anything—in fact, a normal human probably wouldn't have descended such forbidding stairs in the first place—but Angel had no trouble making out the doorway at the bottom, or the knob that would open it.

The door creaked open, shedding dim light into the stairwell, and then he stepped inside, shutting it behind him.

Spell components crowded every shelf and wall that wasn't covered in books, and there were all sorts of strange looking antique and even ancient items laying about in disarray on the floor. The room was filled with the cloying scent of tobacco, lending it a somehow exotic feel. Angel smiled grimly and shook his head; everything was just like he remembered it, and it wasn't a very comforting feeling.

"We're closed," spoke up a nasally voice from somewhere behind the counter, its owner hidden in the shadows at the back of the shop.

"Surely you're not closed for old friends?" he inquired, the politeness in his voice verging on mockery.

Something shuffled behind the counter, and then came into the light, dull yellow illuminating its wrinkled, horrific features. The creature was small, bent and stooped, twisted like an arthritic old man, creating a harmless appearance, but sharp intelligence glimmered in its dull orange eyes, and the pure evil intent that shone there identified it as a force to be reckoned with. It blinked once as it took in his appearance, puffing gently on a pipe captured between the dry folds of its lips.

"Angel," the creature breathed, his voice seeming to caress the name.

"Sneed," he returned cordially, nodding tightly.

"Been a long time since I've seen you around here," Sneed said, the statement half-questioning. He laid his gnarled hands upon the counter and regarded Angel curiously, wary but not afraid. "Can't say as I've missed you," he added, matter-of-factly.

"And you won't," Angel said, stepping deeper into the store. "In fact, I was never here. This never happened."

"Like that, is it?" Sneed asked, then nodded, curling smoke rising all around his face. "Well, let's get this over with, then. What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for a decoder, either a book or an item, for ancient languages."

"Huh," the creature considered, appearing to think. "Well, I'd have to know what language, of course."

Angel hesitated only an instant. "Ancient Sumerian, specifically."

The desiccated folds above Sneed's eyes rose upward, and he blinked again. "Don't know as I have anything in Ancient Sumerian. It's not very popular these days."

"Haven't you been reading the papers?" Angel asked glibly, raising his own brows. "It's back in style."

"Is it?" Sneed asked, sounding vaguely surprised. Hands still resting on the counter top, he puffed mildly on his pipe, seeming disinterested.

"It is. In fact, I hear violence is making a real comeback, too," he said, taking a step closer to the counter.

Sneed stiffened, pushing himself up from the counter slightly. "That's close enough," he warned. "Seems to me, I might have what you're looking for… might be I just can't remember where it is."

"Tell you what," Angel said with a grim smile. "You remember where it is, and I'll remember not to forget that I have a soul." He paused, considering, and then added, "Not that killing a demon like you would do it much damage."

"Alright, alright," the demon said, finally pulling the pipe from his mouth. He stepped from behind the counter and went to a shelf far down the left side of the shop, rummaging through the calamity of items piled there. Finally, he pulled a wooden box from somewhere in the heap and offered it to Angel.

"This is the best I've got, and even it's not guaranteed."

Angel took the box and opened it. Inside, resting on the velvet lining, was an ancient looking magnifying glass. Its frame was intricately molded with twisted bands of copper, and at the top of the circular glass, the bands split apart in the shape of an eye, a red crystal set in the center like an iris.

"It doesn't work so good right away. Way I understand it is, it gets better the more you use it."

Angel considered, turning the glass over in his hands. It didn't look very impressive; the glass itself was warped and cloudy, giving a blurry edge to the lines in his palm. "How long?"

Sneed shrugged, putting his pipe back in his mouth. "Don't know. Never had the occasion to use it, myself."

"And this is all you have?"

"Yep. So we got a deal, or what?"

"Put it on my tab," Angel agreed with a smirk, closing the box.

"Right," Sneed said sourly, watching Angel depart.

"I'll put it on your tab, all right," he added as the door closed, the shop empty once again.

A moment later, a door at the back of the shop opened and a vampire stepped out in full game face, his expression triumphant. The divination spell had been right.

"How was that?" Sneed asked, turning.

"Very good," the vampire answered with a twisted smile. "My mistress will be most pleased."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Faith had just about given up on finding any action to take her mind off things tonight when Angel stepped from the trees in front of her. Reflexively, she brought up her stake and he held a wooden box in front of his chest, as if to ward off her blow.

"You got a death wish, or what?" she asked angrily, lowering the stake.

"Not lately," he said, lowering the box with a faint smile.

She stood there, regarding him in confused silence for a moment. "Yeah. Well. I was just on my way back to the house, so…" She made as if to walk around him and he stepped in front of her again.

"I think I've got something that'll help with the books," he offered, holding up the wooden box again.

"Good for you," she replied snidely, trying to step around him again.

"Hungry?" He insinuated himself between her and her intended path again.

Her eyes flashed dark anger, threatening for a moment, and then one corner of her mouth quirked in a hard smile. "A little," she allowed. "You got an all-night diner in that box?" she asked, inclining her head toward it.

"No, but I think there's one around here somewhere. Care to join me?"

She backed off a step and her posture went defensive again, eyes hard and speculative, as if she were wary of the offer. "I thought you were doing the Secret Agent Man thing?"

"I don't think we have to worry about being seen. Most creatures of the night avoid diners like the plague." He chuckled. "Can't stand the smell of grease."

"But you can?" she asked dubiously.

"I survived hell," he said with a shrug. "It can't be worse than that."

"Guess we'll see," she said, voice non-committal, eyes mistrustful, not quite willing to forgive him yet.

He pretended not to notice her reticence, stepping aside and motioning for her to walk ahead of him. "Lead the way."

After a moment of debate, she did.

"So anywhere I want?" she asked, her voice holding a note of mischief.

"As long as it's not the Doublemeat Palace," he amended. "That place gives me the creeps."

She gave him a strange, sidelong glance, then chuckled, shaking her head. "Wus."

"Yeah," he agreed, as if that were never a question.

She laughed and their voices faded, lapsing into a comfortable rhythm of conversation as they made their way back downtown.