Chapter Three - Elsewhere To Be

In LA, Faith lay comatose, her mind elsewhere. Connor wandered whether she would ever wake up. With her slight body, bruised and battered from her fight with Angelus, she looked so very fragile. It was hard to believe this woman was a slayer, that she had the power to obliterate demons and vampires. But she did. He had seen it with his own two eyes. Now thanks to his "father", she was probably going to die.

He gently touched the dressing on her neck. What had it felt like to be bitten? He felt the anger building in him as he thought of Angelus's teeth sinking into Faith's soft, supple neck. He reached into his jacket to paw the stake hidden within. As his fingers ran against the grainy wood, he felt a sort of peace. What if right now he could lift the stake and plunge it into Angelus's chest? He could just visualise the moment of impact, the perfect clarity as the undead flesh turned to dust, echoing out from its former body. Then it would be over. All the pain and rage he felt would be vanquished in that one act. His "father" would release him by his death, just as had his mother's at his birth. His life would come full circle.

Just then Lorne entered the room. Connor felt his fingers slip from the stake, his eyes looking quickly away from Faith. Lorne, unnoticed by Connor, smiled at the barely concealed play of emotions upon the boy's face, and sat beside Faith. His hand cupped her inert one, stroking it tenderly. She had been very, very brave, risking her life to save Angel's soul. It was not right she should die alone.

"Will she wake up?" Connor finally uttered, his blue eyes gazing soulfully at Lorne.

"We don't know," said Lorne, looking at Faith sadly. The mystical drug she had injected, Orpheus, was powerful beyond anything man alone could synthesise. He wasn't sure anyone, even a slayer, could come back from the dose she had taken. She was going to hell.

With one last look at Faith, Connor left the room. There was nothing to be done here, nothing at all.

*********************

In the darkened kitchen, Willow sat next to Buffy. The potentials were training with Kennedy in the basement, working out some of their tension, Willow surmised. It had been difficult not to notice Kennedy's resentment of Buffy, but what worried Willow was that she could see it spreading. From Kennedy's open dissent came ripples of dissatisfaction among the younger, more reticent girls. They were beginning to doubt, beginning to question, and beginning to wonder why they were even trying to beat the First. Worse still was Buffy's reaction to it. She had so far managed to sidestep all issues of dissonance within the group by aggressively asserting her leadership; which was fine, for now. But Willow could see the cracks, could feel the splitting in the group and she desperately wanted to warn Buffy but somehow she did not feel it was her place. Buffy was right: she did deserve respect. It was Buffy who had led them through countless crises and they had always come out on top. More than that, Buffy was her best friend and had been with her through the best and darkest times of her life: her loyalty to Buffy was truly unquestionable.

"Peace at last," Buffy said, her voice sounding tired.

Willow looked around the sudden space in the house. "It is a miracle," she agreed, trying for pep but failing miserably. "Kennedy felt the girls needed some training. They've been getting a little restless."

Buffy looked outside, thinking of Chloe, Annabelle and Sophie. "I noticed," she answered, her tone depressed.

Willow glanced at her friend, and the sadness in her eyes shook Willow. This was the core of their battle: the loss. Nothing they had ever been through before had placed Buffy so firmly on her own. She was isolated and expected to cope alone just because some mystical heritage had decided she was the slayer: it hardly seemed fair. "I know," Willow said quietly, her hand gently resting upon Buffy's arm. "But you need to know that you don't have to feel all alone. You can talk to me."

Buffy's face registered surprise, but then returned to resignation. "I am talking to you," she replied. "You're the only one I've told about - y'know." The small grimace on her face as she alluded to Angel was not lost on Willow.

"You may have told me, but you're not letting me share the burden," Willow insisted, her eyes pleading with Buffy. "I wish you would let me in."

Sighing heavily, Buffy stood and placed her hands upon the kitchen counter. "It's not something I can share, Will. It's not like you're in love with him."

Standing beside her friend, Willow refused to give up. "Okay, you got me there. Woohoo, gay," Will said, attempting a smile. "But you could tell me what's going on with you. You've been freaked since Andrew closed the seal, but you insist you're fine."

Buffy gave her friend a look, and gripped the counter as if her life depended upon it. "I've been having dreams, and they're so vivid. Full on surround sound, I'm right there, living it, feeling it, as he dies," she told Willow. "And they're getting more intense."

"Not exactly helping with the sleeping," Willow murmured, not wanting to imagine the horror of Buffy's dreams. She caught the tension in Buffy's face and knew there was more. "Something happened when Andrew closed the seal."

Buffy nodded, not wanting to answer but Will was insistent. "I heard his voice. Clear as yours."

Willow felt her insides tighten. This was becoming more frightening by the moment. "What did you hear?" Will prodded, trying to be as gentle with her friend as she could.

"It was a warning. He said I had to be ready," Buffy revealed.

Confused, Willow asked, "Ready for what, Buffy? I don't understand."

"To make the sacrifice. That's what he said in the dream," Buffy replied, her mind reliving the desperate look in his eyes as he had spoken to her.

"You don't know it was him," Willow said suddenly, causing Buffy to gape at her in shock.

"What?" Buffy ground out, unable to process the possibility.

"Come on, Buffy. We're dealing with the First here, the big bad who can mimic any person who's dead, who draws its strength from picking on our weaknesses. It's no secret that Angel is yours," Will pressed somewhat strongly. She then saw Buffy's pale face and softened. "We have to at least consider that the First is trying to manipulate you."

Sitting down again, Buffy clasped her hands, breathing deeply. "I wish it were the First, Will. But I'm so sure it's not. It's him. I feel it, deep inside; I can't explain it," she said, her words a whisper.

"You don't have to Buffy," Willow reassured her. "But we just have to remember who we're dealing with."

Just then Xander appeared. "Who the what we're dealing with?" he asked, a slight hint of humour still present in his voice.

"The First," Buffy answered quickly, subtly flashing Willow a warning look. "Who else?"

Xander saw the uneasiness between Buffy and Willow, but said nothing. "Oh, I always knew the big evil had to be an attention seeker," he quipped. He sat down beside his two friends, and tried to think back to a time when they had shared everything. Right now it seemed a lifetime ago. Their friendship now was marked by secrets and half-truths, the realities of adulthood. He would have given anything right then to return to that simpler time, to the time when his friends thrived upon his voracious need to know. Instead he would bide his time, knowing Buffy would tell him eventually. She always did.

*********************

Faith opened her eyes and stared at her surroundings in total disbelief. This was so not LA, at least not LA in 2003. She turned quickly, trying to look for a way out and came face to face with a large glowering man. She smiled quirkily up at him. "Angelus."

Curling his lips disdainfully, Angelus suddenly rushed at her, but instead of toppling her, he passed straight through her, sprawling messily onto the ground. "What the -?" he exclaimed, staring in horror as he watched an unkempt version of himself lumber through the grimy docklands of the New York of 1902. "This is not happening." "Guess again," Faith leered, her face covered in a huge smirk. "Look's like it's 'Angelus, this is your life' - because Lack-of-Hygiene world? It sure ain't mine." Her eyes settled on the retreating back of Angel, as filthy and dishevelled, he disappeared into the distance. "Seriously, man. Did you forget the invention of a bath?"

Ignoring her, Angelus seethed as he remembered the indignities of watching Angel feed on rats. "This is his life. Not mine. It was bad enough the first time."

Faith smiled slightly in realisation. "This is Angel's life."

"Yeah, and it annoyed the crap out of me first time. So why do I have to share this torture run with you?" Angelus demanded, his face agitated.

"I'm dying, dumbass," she cussed, her face totally unaffected by her comment.

Letting out a chuckle, Angelus fairly gleamed at her. "Not soon enough."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I'll be dead. But I'm sticking around until they've shoved a soul up your-"

"Never gonna happen," he replied sweetly, giving her the finger. He had friends in high places, and he was pretty sure that the Beast's Master would not let him be re-ensouled anytime soon.

Not bothering to reply, Faith just folded her arms, her cocky demeanour more than a match for his. This was going to be a blast.

*********************

Buffy watched impassively as they chained Spike to the wall. She wished somebody would remind her again why they were doing this. Ever since Giles had discovered that Spike's chip had been permanently deactivated, he had been in a state of pure disapproval. She vaguely remembered his words, his warnings, somewhat laughable in the current situation. He had told her that she deserved better than Spike, that she was letting her feelings for him colour her judgement. Then he had put the final nail in the coffin and mentioned Angel: and that was when she reacted. To say Giles had been taken aback was an understatement. She had literally rocked the poor man's foundations. Since then, they had barely spoken and from the cool look he was giving her now, she did not see that changing anytime soon.

Ignoring him, Buffy went to Spike and tested the chains. He glanced at her, giving her an impish grin. "You don't have to do this," she reminded him gently.

"I think we both know I do. I'm walking around like a ticking time bomb that the First can activate any moment. I'm not being anyone's bitch," he said determinedly, his eyes locked in anger with Robin's.

"Except perhaps for Buffy's," Giles commented dryly, his steely blue eyes glaring unflinchingly at both Buffy and Spike.

"Okay kiddies, I think it's time we got this show on the road," declared Xander, setting himself up as the peacemaker.

Willow stepped forward and began to cast her spell, the confidence surging from her. The crystal she was holding dissolved into a glistening black leech, slivering its way with intent towards Spike. Spike's eyes widened in slight fear as he saw it upon his face, sliding towards his eye socket. Then he felt sharp pain as the thing drove up, beginning to penetrate his brain. He struggled in his chains, desperately trying to shirk the thing off him. But it was too late. The thing was in. Spike's body went slack, his eyes staring glassily forward.

Buffy rushed towards him, her eyes full of fear. "Spike, Spike!" she cried, shaking him savagely. "What did you do to him, Willow?"

Not understanding her friend's outburst, Willow took a tentative step forward. "What we needed to Buffy. Spike was right. We need to know the key to The First's trigger so we can stop it," she said firmly. "We don't know what the First has planned for Spike and if we don't remove this trigger, we soon will. He's already killed people because of this, Buffy. We can't let him us kill us too."

Seeing the sense in Willow's words, she reluctantly let go. "Well, he better be alright. I need him in one piece," Buffy said. Then catching Giles's sharp look, added, "We all do."

Suddenly Spike began to murmur, and Buffy stepped away from him in shock. "What's happening?" she asked Willow.

"He's remembering," she answered simply.

Just then the volume of Spike's voice began to increase. He was arguing with someone. His body began thrashing, causing the chains to clatter violently. Dawn shrank back, her eyes full of fear. Then with a massive roar, Spike broke loose, his game face contorted and snarling in rage. As Buffy rushed towards him, his hands reached for his cot and threw it towards Dawn, gashing her on the forehead. Buffy hauled him down, panting heavily, her face expressionless. Willow crouched down beside Dawn, helping her to sit.

Then again, Spike's body spasmed as the leech slivered from his eye, landing on the floor with a loud plop as it returned to stone. "What's going on?" he rasped, his eyes gazing up at Buffy disorientated. Seeing the coldness in her eyes, he turned to see Dawn being tended to by Willow, a trickle of blood running down her face. His face contorted in guilt. "Oh, Dawn."

Coming up to him and putting a heavy hand on the collar of Spike's leather duster, Robin glared. "Why don't you tell us what you remember?"

Spike angrily shrugged him off, and stood slowly. "Nothing," he lied, resisting the painful memories of his mother.

"What was the song?" Giles pressed, his words as cutting as ice.

Decidedly uncomfortable, Spike looked away, his eyes again settling on the injured Dawn. "It was "Early One Morning". An old folk ditty," he said quietly, his eyes connecting with Buffy's. "My mother used to sing it to me when I was a baby."

"So what was the meaning?" Giles demanded, his temper beginning to flare.

"I don't bloody know," shouted Spike, his hands covering his face. "She was a nice lady, I loved her."

Then he felt Buffy's hand brush his face. "Please, Spike," she begged him. "We need to know."

Seeing the wretchedness in her eyes, Spike thought back to their earlier conversation. Something was burdening Buffy and he did not want to add to that. "I turned her," he grated out. "I turned her, and lost her. My mother never loved me."

Just then, Andrew came down the stairs, slightly out of breath. Buffy scowled at him, upset he had interrupted at such a sensitive moment. "What do you want, Andrew?" she berated him.

Andrew looked slightly sheepish and then turned to Willow. "There's someone called Fred on the phone for you," he told her, then dropping his voice a notch added, "Sounded kind of effeminate." Giving him a strange look, Willow finishing applying the gauze to Dawn's head and then followed Andrew.

"I'm sorry about that," Buffy told him softly, taking his hand. "I know this is hard but you need to finish this."

Dramatically Spike snatched his hand from hers, and gave her a seering look. "That is it. I've told you everything. Why can't you just accept that." Buffy flinched at his words, knowing they were a not so hidden reference to what she had said to him, the meaning being explicit. Why should she expect full honesty from him when she would not give him the same in return?

Slowly she stood from him, allowing him space. Giles gaped at her in comtempt. "What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Letting him go," she countered simply.

"He's still a threat, Buffy. We don't know that the trigger's been deactivated," Giles spat at her.

Robin stared at Spike, a slight air of menace in his expression. "Is that right?"

Before Spike could respond, Willow ran down the stairs, her face strained. "I've got to go to LA, Buffy," she said to Buffy, whose expression was turning to panic. "Something's come up."

Leaving Spike, Buffy went to Willow and pulled her aside. "What's going on, Will? I need to know," she asked, her fingers digging into Willow's arm. "Is it Angel?"

Will looked at her friend closely, and then hugged her. "There isn't time, Buff. I need to go now," she insisted, not wanting to reveal Angel's desouled state to her friend.

"Please don't let anything happen to him," Buffy begged her friend, reluctantly letting her go. "I couldn't bear it."

Giving her friend a weakened smile, Willow ran back up the stairs preparing to go to LA. With Angel soulless, there was no way he could help them. For a second, the idea that this could all be part of the First's plan crossed her mind but she quickly dismissed it. Whether it was or was not, Willow had no time to wait. She needed to find Angel's soul and replace it quickly, before things became any more complicated.

*********************

It was amazing how much fun seeing the most psychotic vampire on this planet relive his alterego's kindest deeds could be. Faith grinned mercilessly as she watched Angelus cringe as Angel rescued a puppy from the path of a speeding car in 1920s Chicago. It was almost too easy to rile this vampire; she wished she had known his weakness much, much earlier.

"This is hell," Angelus whined, visibly sickened.

"Dude, you rescued a puppy," Faith jibed, laying on her tone of disparagement extra thick.

"Don't remind me," he groaned, hiding his head in his arms. "I can't believe how lame he is."

"You are," she reminded him pointedly. "Don't forget you're in there too." Angelus glared at her, and began to stalk away. "Don't get all huffy on me, baby. We haven't finished the ride together yet."

"Oh, why couldn't it have been the other slayer," he muttered to himself angrily. Faith gave him a look, and he finished, "Not that it hasn't been fun and all, draining your blood."

"I still kicked your ass," she retaliated, clearly irked. He merely raised his eyebrow at her, infuriating her further. Reigning in her anger, she breathed deeply. "Whatever."

Then the scene changed again, throwing them both into a blinding white light. Faith squeezed her eyes shut, trying to regain her equilibrium but the ground beneath her feet shook violently, throwing her to the floor. In the distance she could hear voices, arguing against one another. She looked up, her face visibly shocked. Before her Faith could see Angel slowly disintegrating as sunlight crackled from his body, Buffy's face stained with tears. But Faith could not move; she was rooted to the spot. She could only cry out helplessly, "Angel."

Behind her came a full and hearty cackle, and Faith saw Angelus looming above her, his face lit up with glee. "Guess this is your hell."

Back in the Hyperion, Lorne's face grew worried as Faith's body began twitch relentlessly, and he heard her cry out in pain. He gripped her hand tightly and began to sing to her softly.

Wesley peered in through the door, watching Faith's thrashing body with saddened eyes. "We're losing her," he murmured, shutting the door behind him.

As he walked away, he did not notice Connor behind him, did not notice the ferocity with which he gripped the stake. Angelus would pay for this, Connor vowed.

To Be Continued.