Chapter Three: Say Goodbye to Hollywood
Kitty groans as she slowly comes awake. The soft grass making a comfortable bed under her as the wind cools her skin from the heat of the sun. Opening her eyes she stares into the sun filled sky. Blinking slightly as they come into focus she slowly realizes she's not seeing double, but that there actually are two suns shining brightly in the sky overhead.
Standing up she turns her attention to her more immediate surroundings. The air was breathable, despite the fact it smelled off. Kitty breathes a deep sigh of relief as she turns in a slow circle taking in the scenery; thick bole but stunted trees, brown grass, a few large rocks jutting out of the ground. Nothing overly different from what she was used to back on Earth.
Except for the y shaped sticks planted in the ground with small animal skins drying under the bright suns. That was something she might see in a primitive culture. "Don't even get a tour maps anymore," she grumbles softly as she looks around. "Oh well guess one directions just as good as another," she says starting off. Her only hope for surviving for an extended period of time was finding some kind of settlement. That and praying whoever lived here was friendly towards humans. The thought of having to take on an alien race by herself was not a very pleasing one.
She hopes Logan would be able to track her down. He knew everything that she had pieced together so far, and didn't think he would have too much trouble getting Professor Siedel to tell him what had taken place. Logan was not the kind of person the good Professor was going to enjoy having conversation with. Unfortunately she couldn't count on Logan coming to her rescue any time soon, or even landing anywhere near where she had come out. It was going to have to be up to her to find a way back home.
Faith slashes diagonally downward at Logan as she turns around. It was a slow clumsy stroke of the blade she was wielding, but it was the best she could manage. She had tried losing him through the streets and back alleys of Tokyo, but that had proven impossible as he stayed a bare step behind her.
Weather it was really Tokyo or just some kind of ultra sophisticated illusion she still couldn't tell. People had reacted to her as she had pushed her way past them just as people always reacted to being pushed and jostled out of the way. With curses and threats, all of which were shouted at her in Japanese so she couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. Their gestures, not to mention their tone of voice, had been quite clear though and had left Faith with little doubt as to what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Not that she was really worried about them. Her real problem was the man who dogged her heels with the tenacity of a rabid bloodhound.
Every time she looked over her shoulder he was there. Never more then a dozen paces away from her, sometimes close enough she thought he could just reach out and touch her if he wanted to. Even when she didn't look she thought she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck.
She had never faced anybody like him before. Even when Kakistos had been chasing her from one side of America to the other she hadn't felt anything close to this level of despair welling up in her chest. At least with the ancient vampire there had been pauses, breaks in the chase, where she could catch her breath.
With Logan it was relentless, he wouldn't stop, he didn't stay dead when she killed him. He just got back up and came after her again and again as fresh as when they started. Each time he inflicted damage, not much, or a lot of it at any one time, but as the fight dragged on and on it began to add up.
She had been pushing herself all out for nearly two hours now, and was beginning to flag under the intense pace he was forcing her to maintain. She could feel it, with a certainty she had never felt anything before that this was it. That this was the end for her.
She wasn't going to go down without leaving some type of impression on him though. If nothing else she was going to make sure he knew that he had been in a fight before everything was said and done.
Recovering her balance as he comes back up she stabs ahead with the razor sharp katana she had found upon ducking into the dojo. There's a sharp hissing sound of metal sliding against metal as Logan raises his arm, adamatium claws deflecting the sword she had in her hands. His other hand draws back and Faith watches in horror as second set of claws spring from the back of that hand as well.
Time seems to slow down for Faith. It was over, she knew that. Even if she somehow managed to avoid this strike there would only be another, and another, and another, until he finally managed to kill her. Maybe it would be better this way, she wonders as her eyelids slide close as he fist flashes towards her. An end to all the running, the pain, the misery that was her life. She could finally be at peace.
Cordelia flips through another accident report. She was nowhere near as good as Willow when it came to computers, but with the redhead talking her through the process she had managed to hack her way into several different hospital databases. It was far easier gathering information this way then calling up the hospitals and requesting the data she wanted. This way she just cut out the asking part to browse through it at her leisure.
Right now she was looking for anybody admitted for sever unexplained injuries in the past six hours. The computer was programmed for words such as stab, cut, laceration. So far she had gone through nearly sixty cases involving such acts, but all of those had very mundane causes; car accident, fatal stabbing, sever lacerations from falling down twelve foot gorge.
On the other side of her desk Wesley was conducting his own search, looking for the man who had presumably abducted Faith, and destroyed the surveillance van outside her apartment. He was going through old watchers dairies claiming there was something about the entire incident that smacked of familiarity to him. Cordelia would like to have smack him with something. Here she was, eyes getting cramping from staring at a computer screen for hours on end, while he got to read through some of his little black books. The entire situation screams of workplace discrimination to the young, still hopeful starlet.
"What are you trying to find in those," she finally complains out loud. "Angel told us the person that took Faith was human, totally, hundred percent human."
Wesley doesn't bother to look up as he replies, "Angel also told us that the man had been shot several times yet bled very little. That kind of healing prowess may also lend itself to an extended life, plus there was something oddly familiar with how the van was disabled."
"You mean the fact somebody hacked off the tire?"
"Um-hum, only it wasn't so much hacked off as it was sliced into four separate pieces. Ah-ah!" He exclaims triumphantly. "I knew it was in here. Gertrud Stein, killed nineteen forty-three, Berlin Germany. Cause of death three unexplained punctures to her back, piercing her heart and lungs, wounds exited the front of her chest. Death was believed to be instantaneous."
"She was a slayer?" The brunette asks peeking over the desk at the book Wesley was currently reading.
The ex-watcher nods his head, " her watcher is the main reason why all watchers since then are strictly English. Although the council didn't know it the time Gertrud's watcher, Henriech Rompol was working closely with Hitler's Nazi party and the Third Reich. He had Gertrud trained from a very young age to follow Hitler's anti-Semite believes. As she neared the appropriate age to be called the Third Reich began having slayer's assassinated, each time one was called within a few weeks she was dead. Struck down by a sniper's bullet. Something slayers still have no defense against. Once she was called in nineteen thirty-seven she began her work as Hitler's personal assassin. She eliminated anything and anyone that stood in the way of Hitler's rise to power with a cool efficiency."
"Wait a minute, I thought slayer's were all suppose to be like forces of goodness protecting all of us normal folk from," she gestures around herself, "creatures that want to make us their snack food?"
Wesley shakes his head, "you above all people should know how erroneous a belief that is after watching Faith's decent into darkness. Slayers are human, with human weaknesses. They can be fooled, and or manipulated just like anyone," he says sadly.
The door opens to a very disgruntle Angel who enters with a simple question of, "anything?"
"Wesley was just telling me a fascinating story of how Hitler's personal slayer was whacked by the guy who stole Faith. So I'm more then willing to let this guy keep her if he was a thing for killing off evil slayers. More power to him," she answers flippantly.
Angel ignores Cordelia's brutal remark from after he picked out the part of Wesley having information. "What do you have?"
"Not much actually," Wesley apologizes. "Just the details of a rouge slayer's death in Berlin during the height of World War Two," he says handing the book over to Angel.
Angel takes the book skimming it quickly, "stabbed through the back. Died instantly, no signs of a struggle. Could definitely be our guy," he says giving Wesley a hearty clap on the back that nearly knocks him over as he adds a heartfelt, "good work."
"I take it you didn't get anything out of Wolfram and Hart," Wesley comments after a moment.
Angel only nods as he scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair, "she was working for them though. I can feel it in my bones," he says sitting down on the edge of Cordelia desk. "Follow up on that, see if you can find anything more recent. Try to put a name, or better yet a face to the man that can kill a slayer before she even knows she's in danger."
Just then the glass door opens again as Buffy pushes the door inward, "hey guys," she greets everyone in a her usual fake happy voice. When she speaks again her voice has lost it friendly edge as it turns hard, "heard you got problems with a rouge slayer."
I'm not dead, the thought bubbles through Faith's head.
She can feel the cool steel on each side of her throat as clearly as she can feel Logan's knuckles pressed just under her chin. She doesn't want to open her eyes, thinking that he's waiting for her to do exactly that before releasing his middle, his killing claw, into her throat. "You ready to start acting like an adult?" His gruff voice demands from only a foot in front of her. She doesn't say anything, only stands there pinned to the rough wooden beam as she tries to regain control of her racing heart and starving lungs. "Or would you rather we keep on the way we've been keeping on? Doesn't much matter to me as I can keep this pace up for days. What about you Faith, how long before your done?" She can feel his hard eyes looking her over, "not long from the look of you."
Faith jumps as the sound of his metallic claws screams in her ears. It takes her a moment to realize his claws have retracted back into his forearms. The only reason she comes to that conclusion is because the pressure his hand had been applying to the front of her throat is suddenly gone, as is the cool metal that had been on both side of her throat. Opening her eyes she sees Logan a few feet away picking up what looks like the remote control that had been on the table when this entire fracas had started.
She felt cheated. For a moment, when she had thought it was all over, there had been such a sense of peace filling her she had felt relieved that it was all over. Now that the immediate danger was past that feeling was gone and she could feel her anger, her rage at the world, her disgust at herself seep back into the core of her being. She glares at his back as he fiddles with the delicate piece of electronics in his hands. It was all his fault. "What? That's it? You're not even going to finish the job?" She screams at him ignoring the pain in her ribs, not to mention, the rest of her body.
"I don't kill without cause," Logan growls in his normal gruff voice.
"No you just beat the shit out of people," She snarls back.
Logan tosses the remote to the floor with a hoarse grunt of, "Kitty'll have to patch it up," before turning around to face her. Looking her over he says, "told you once there was an easy and a hard way we could do things. You keep choosing hard. And before you go getting all idingnant about the beating you just took. Remember one thing," he says pointing a thick finger at her, "you're the one that kept going for the kill."
Faith tries to match his stony eye glare with one equally as hard. She can't. He was right. If it weren't for his incredible regenerative powers the man would have been dead a dozen times over. All the while he had possessed the means to kill her whenever he chose to, yet he didn't.
Her mind continues to come back to why. If he hadn't killed her it was because he wanted something from her. Either that or he needs her for one reason or another. "What do you want?"
"Aside from getting out of here? A shower and a fresh set of clothes. You know the kind not soaked in my own blood," he answers in a light gruff knowing it wasn't the answer to the question she had asked.
"What do you want from me?" She specifies with a tight growl.
"Like I told earlier, not a damn thing."
"Then why are you doing this? Why are acting like you give a shit about me? Why not just kill me and get it over with?" She yells at him fighting the urge to break down.
His eyes soften slightly as he gazes at her. The young girl before him remained standing by nothing more then her own determination not to fall in front of him. She reminded him so much off himself just after Mac and Heather first found him. More then anybody else he had met since then. All fiery rage and burning pain at nothing tangible, but more then willing to unleash it at the world in general.
Unlike Faith there had been people ready, willing, and most importantly, determined to harness him, shape him, mold him into a very focused weapon that could be directed at their enemies. A nearly unstoppable killing machine that they could control.
Until somebody with a dream came along and offered him a way out. Not that he had seen it as such at the time. Back then Xavier had been nothing more then a way to get from under the red tape and rigmarole that he had been trapped within working for the Canadian Government. It had been a crap shoot and he had gotten lucky.
"A long time ago somebody took a chance on me. Offered me a way off a bad road I was on, showed me a better way to do things. I wouldn't be much of a man if I didn't honor that obligation and repay that debt, now would I?" He says softly knowing she could hear him.
Without taking his eyes off her he reaches out, his hand grabbing hold of nothing that she can see. He twist his wrist and pushes open a door that hadn't been there. Faith blinks as she sees the room she first woke up in, "what the?" She breathes out in stunned amazement.
Logan shakes his head as he says, "don't understand it much myself. Think Star Trek. Solid light photons, force fields, and things I don't even pretend to understand," he answers her. "Showers through there. Go and clean up. You look like road kill."
Faith waits a moment as Logan walks away from the open door. Staggering forward she never takes her eyes off him. She wanted to believe him. On some level she did, or wanted to so badly she thought she did. She couldn't allow herself to believe him though. What he said, while it seemed all nice and hokey on the surface, just didn't mesh with how people really were. Nobody ever went out of their way to help somebody they didn't know just because they felt obligated to, or because it was the right thing to do. It was something you would expect somebody out of an old John Wayne movie to sprout. Or maybe something a Samurai or a Buddhist would go on about.
Still there was that part of her that wanted to believe him. "Logan," she calls out to him as she reaches the door.
Logan looks up locking eyes with Faith. He knew what she wanted to say just as he knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to say it. "Go on take your shower," he tells her taking the pressure off her. She ducks her head relieved that he had shooed her off and steps inside the bedroom.
"So who the hell are you?" Faith asks Logan as she strides quickly down the sidewalk struggling to keep pace with the short man. He had changed into clothes similar to what he had been wearing the first time they had met; worn cowboy boots, denim jeans, flannel shirt, rawhide jacket and gloves, and his tan ten gallon hat.
"Just a man," Logan replies simply.
They had been outside Kitty's loft for nearly five minutes and that had been the first thing she had said since leaving the room. The clothes she was wearing now were easily identifiable as something that had come out of his Kitty's wardrobe. It almost looked as if Faith had stolen the clothes off an Indian Princess. Wide, dark purple silk pants that swished when she walked, a light airy magenta top with a blue satin sash tied around her waist. The only thing that spoiled the effect was the white tennis shoes she was wearing. She had grumbled about the outfit, but at the same time said it was the only thing wearable she could find. It was obvious that her and Kitty's taste in clothing would never mesh.
"A man with foot long metal claws inside his forearms," Faith comments dryly. "Just a man doesn't even begin to cover it. Like what's your name? You know mine so its only fair that I should know yours."
"You already know it," he tells her a moment before cutting across her heading into a small dinner. Faith quickly turns to fellow him as he adds in a harsh growl, "much as anyone else knows."
She slides into the booth across from him, "amnesia or something?"
Logan grunts, "or something."
"So what can I get for you two," Lynn, according to her name badge, a tall, thin middle aged woman with her graying hair pinned up in a bun, asks them.
"Large steak, still mooing if you got it, double order of fried scallops, pair of backed potatoes, side order of fries and onion rings, tossed salad, a large slice of that pecan pie, and an extra large black coffee," Logan answers without looking at the menu. "Second thought, double it."
Lynn blinks several times as Logan runs down his list, then stares wide eye when he finishes. "Sure thing honey," she stammers. "I'll be right back..."
"Hey!" Faith snarls at the waitress, "you forget about me or something?"
She blinks at Faith even more startled, "I thought that was for both of you's. I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you," She apologizes seeing the anger simmering in Faith's eyes.
"Yeah well," Faith begins not sure what to do. She wanted to beat the crap out of the woman, only she had apologized to her. Something people never did to her.
"Easy there darling," Logan's voice sounds almost in her ear as he talks to her. "Lady made an honest mistake. No harm done, no foul committed."
"So, what can I get you hon?" She asks Faith with a genuine smile.
Faith blinks unsure what to get. She decides to follow the simplest option available to her. "I'll have the same thing," She tells Lynn smiling as the woman's mouth drops open at her order. "Only an extra large coke, and the chocolate cake."
The waitress blinks several times before she says in a numb voice, "I'll be right back with your drinks."
"That's a bit of food you ordered there," Logan comments as he tosses his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table. "You got a hollow leg or something I don't know about?"
"Naw," Faith says lighting a cigarette. "Slaying, or what we did tonight leaves me all wound up. Eating helps take the edge off, a little. What I could really go for is a good hard screw. That'd really help me unwind. What about you?"
Logan lights a cigarette of his own inhaling deeply before he says, "nothing helps."
Faith nods slightly gaining a slight understanding to his almost abrupt nature. If he was wound half as tightly as she was after a good hard fight she was impressed with the restraint he showed. "What're we doing here? Aside from terrorizing little old ladies."
"Meeting Kitty."
"What for?"
Faith was finding it hard to believe she was sitting here with who she was sitting here with. That she had actually fought him. Had even managed to hurt him, kill him if only for a bare handful of seconds. She felt kind of stupid that she hadn't recognized who he was when he had unsheathed his claws. They were after all his trade mark, his calling card that everybody knew about.
With as close to New York as Boston was she had spent her young life idolizing the heroes that made the big apple their home. She had spent every day wishing that she too, would one day possess superpowers. That she would be able to make a difference in the world.
At nearly fifteen when she had been called it was a lifelong dream come true. That there was truly some higher being out there granting wishes. Finding out that it was her destiny to defend the world from vampires, demons, and other evil creatures had been the greatest day of her life.
Within a few days though she had felt reality's vicious bite. She had foolishly believed that with her powers life would somehow become easier for her when in fact the exact opposite seemed to happen. All of her decisions suddenly felt like they held the fate of the entire world. Her mistakes were amplified in a harsh, blinding light. Everything she did, or touch seemed to go wrong, or turn rotten.
Then all of it had spiraled out of control and she suddenly found herself trying to ride out a maelstrom with nothing to cling to. It had all started with the death of her watcher. A death at the hands of a master vampire that she had been unable to prevent. A death that sent her running to Sunnydale, where for a short time she suddenly found herself back on dry land. It was a place she had been able to get her bearings, catch her breath. A place she had thought she had created a true bond with her fellow slayer.
Then came the night everything fell apart for good. The night she found out exactly where she stood with Buffy. The night they had killed Finch and Buffy had tried to hoist all the blame off on her. She had thought she had found dry land but all she had been doing was keeping her balance on a hunk of dirt in the middle of her whirlpool.
A whirlpool that returned with a vengeance dragging her under with a speed that was blinding to behold. She had been drowning, reaching out for anything to grab hold of. Only instead of keeping her head above water the Mayor had sucked her under even faster. Everything from that point on had flashed by her in blurry haze.
Until this moment.
Sitting across the room from one of her childhood icons. She finally felt like her head had broken through to the surface. As if for the first time in years she could take a moment to do nothing more then catch her breath. At least she had finally stopped starring at him as if he was wearing a red cape and had a big old S plastered across his chest.
The fact that he was who he said he was didn't make Faith trust him anymore. Just because Logan happened to be Wolverine didn't change the fact that he was still using her for something.
Faith had been silent as Logan had detailed the disappearances that Kitty was currently investigating at UCLA. While Logan talked the two of them devoured a meal that would leave half a dozen large men loosening belts and leaning back in chairs as they prepared themselves for the nap their bodies were telling them they needed to take. He had explained Kitty's suspicions that the physics professor, some guy named Siedel, was responsible for nearly half a dozen women suddenly disappearing from within the physics department. Unfortunately there was no evidence to be found.
Her premise was simple. They had all been smarter then him so he had to get rid of them. Personally she could think of worse reasons to kill someone. She had killed for some just as dumb. Licking the grease from her fingers she says, "so she went undercover to get the proof to hang the bastard."
"That's gist of it," Logan replies lighting a cigar.
"So what do you need me for?" She asks suspiciously. The large meal had done wonders for own regenerative abilities. She could practically feel her body putting itself right.
"I just need to keep an eye on you till I get the all clear," he says puffing lightly on his cigar.
Faith looks at Logan crossly. She was a big girl, and a slayer to boot. She didn't need anybody watching after her. "The all clear about what?"
Logan gives a slight shrug, "don't know. Fury didn't give me many details, more of a find her, keep an eye on her kind of job," he says mildly amused with her reaction.
"So when'd you decide an abduction was the best way to keep an eye on me?" She inquires a low growl in her words.
"Just after I had a conversation with the surveillance team Wolfram and Hart had on you," he says checking his watch. He didn't need the time piece but it was nice to have confirmation.
"What?" Faith nearly gasps. She hadn't know anyone was following her.
Logan stands up ignoring her startled exclamation. "Kitty should've been here by now," he tells her tossing two bills on the table. Faith rises to her feet as the bills land barely containing another startled gasp as she recognizes two hundred dollar bills sitting on the table.
Cordelia gasp as a wild flourish of images assail her mind, running roughshod through her head. Images of pain, anger, rage. Faith, only not dressed like Faith, battered and bruised leaning back cockily. A short savage man terrorizes a balding middle aged one. Superimposed over everything was the face of a girl who wasn't there.
As quickly as the vision started it comes to an abrupt end and she feels herself being lowered into her cushioned chair. "If I ever get my hands on Doyle I'm going to kill him myself," she groans as she clutches her head.
"You okay?" Buffy inquires her concern clearly evident in her voice.
Cordelia looks up slightly surprised to see it was Buffy that had caught and not Angel. "Yeah sure," she replies sarcastically. "Nothing like a skull splitting migraine bursting through your head to say my day can't get any better then this."
"What'd you see?" Angel asks tersely.
"Wow, gee. Not even a, gosh Cordy would you like a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water to help ease the pain."
"Here you go," Wesley says as he steps back in from Angel's office carrying a glass of water and a bottle of Advil.
"I sent Wesley to get them," Angel replies lightly offended as Cordelia takes the proffered objects.
"Oh," she says slightly abashed. "They're at UCLA," she tells them as she downs a handful of pills and washes them down with half a glass of water in a single gulp. Catching her breath she adds, "Faith and some other guy, they were torturing some old professor like guy. You should probably hurry."
"I'm with you," Buffy tells Angel.
Professor Siedel crashes into the steel gray cabinet. The solid tin gives almost as easily as his bones under the force of the impact. Logan lets loose a low animalistic growl as grabs hold of the lip of the heavy oak desk. With an almost negligent heave he tosses the large piece of furniture away. It flips end over end several times before crashing into a wall.
Faith whistles, slightly impressed by the display of raw strength. The desk had to have weighed a good two hundred pounds, minimum, and to him it was almost like tossing a chair aside. Then again Faith already knew the guy was strong. There wasn't a normal human alive that could bruise a slayer skin, let alone crack a rib from a single blow. Of course there weren't any normal humans whose skeleton's had an unbreakable metal grafted to them.
Logan grabs hold of the Siedel's shirt. Hauling the taller man off his feet the feral mutant handles him like he was a rag doll. He slams him into the wall and Faith thinks she can hear another bone in the professor's body brake. "Where is she?" He snarls in an almost intelligible voice.
"Who?" The professor manages to stammer.
Faith almost winces as Logan slams him into the wall once again, only harder. "Katherine Pryde. The girl that came in here just before you and never left. You didn't kill her so that means you sent her somewhere. The fact she still might be alive and you're the only one who knows where she is, is the only thing keeping you in one piece."
"Why should I tell you anything?" The professor demands in a small voice. Faith had to give the man credit for the balls he was showing, if not much for his intelligence. "If you're just going to kill me?" From everything she had seen, read, or heard Wolverine was not the kind of person you wanted to make mad, and when he was enraged you didn't want to make him madder.
The little man growls from deep in his chest. It puts Faith in mind of a starving dog, saliva dripping from it's jowls, head and shoulders low as it prepares to fight to the death over a tiny scrape of meat. "If you don't tell me, I'll make you beg me to kill you before I'm done," he says in a soft hiss almost too quite for Faith to hear.
The raven hair slayer could only imagine the look on Logan's face as he made his threat. Judging from the way the color vanished from Siedel's face she was glad she couldn't. The professor suddenly couldn't say enough about where he had sent Kitty and a handful of other students just because they were all smarter then he was. Within ten minutes they had the book and the location of the next spot the portal could be opened at. A bar by the name of Caritas.
Faith watches the professor whimpering on the floor as Logan walks past her. She takes a step towards Siedel only to stop as Logan grabs hold of her forearm. "Leave him," he orders.
"You're going to let him live?" Faith asks disgusted by the simple thought of the piece of crap sitting in front of her continuing to breath the same air that she does.
"I still need him alive," Logan informs her sharply.
"Why? He's told you what you wanted," she demands turning sideways so she can see both of them.
"Exactly," he agrees with her as he lets go of her arm. "He's told me what I wanted, who knows if he's told me the truth even if he believes it to be true."
"So what, he gets a free pass?"
Logan looks at Siedel fighting the urge to slice him into small pieces. "She wants to kill you," he tells him as if he hadn't just heard the conversation taking place around him. "If you're not in prison for the abduction of each girl you've sent into an alternate dimension by the time we get back. I'll let her."
Wesley helps Cordelia back into her chair as he asks her, with concern tinting his voice, "another vision?"
The brunette stares at him indignantly. "What gave it away, my gasping in pain or collapsing to the floor?" She inquires bitterly. It was quickly approaching the point where she would give her right arm to be rid of the damn things.
"I'm sorry if that came out sounding insensitive," Wesley apologizes. "I'll go fetch you a glass of water," he says stonily. His eyes however betray the hurt he feels at her sharp retort.
"Thank You, and I'm sorry," she manages to say without swallowing her tongue.
Wesley brushes the comment aside with a simple, "think nothing of it," remark as he steps into the other office.
Cordelia fumes silently for a moment. Here she had gone out of her way to say she was sorry and he acted like it meant nothing. Picking up the telephone handset she punches in the speed code for Angel's cellphone. "Hello," Buffy terse yet chipper voice greets Cordelia. "Angel was having problems finding the talk button, so you got Buffy."
She sighs heavily, once again very thankful to be out of Sunnydale. She would rather have to deal with mega visions the rest of her life then spend another hour listening to Buffy, its my destiny to save the world so everybody has to do what I say, Summers. Better know as the Slayer, or more aptly referred to as the Bitch. "Let me talk to Angel," she says sweetly not wanting to anger someone who could rip her in two with as much effort as it would take her to open a letter. At least not without a good reason.
"You have some new info?" Angel asks sounding pleased.
"Had. As in another vision," she answers.
"So soon?" He questions concerning tracing his voice.
Ignoring his question she says, "you can forget about the collage. Their going to be at a demon bar called Caritas..."
"You and Wesley check it out," Angel tells her. "We just got to the campus..."
"I don't think you heard me," she burst in. "Demon bar. Human. Two things that do not go together."
"We're too far away to reach it before them," Angel pleads.
Cordelia shakes her head, "unless there's someone watching my cute little backside, someone that can handle a few dozen angry demons. There isn't anything that you can give me that will make me go within a ten block radius of..."
"You want somebody to protect you?" Buffy cuts in.
Cordelia snarls silently, but keeps it out of her voice as she says, "preferably you or Angel, but anybody that'll keep me alive will do."
"There's someone close by," Buffy replies. "The same person that drove me to L.A. Plus I can guarantee he can't hurt you," she finishes confidently.
"I'm not going to a demon bar with Xander," she replies coldly.
"It's Spike," Buffy says softly.
"Spike!" Cordelia shouts into the phone. From the other end she can hear Angel echo her sentiment just as loudly.
"He's got a chip in his head," Buffy says quickly and Cordelia isn't sure if she speaking to her or Angel. "It prevents him from hurting humans, but he can still fight demons. He helps me out from time to time."
Cordelia ponders that for a moment before coming to her decision, "your positive he can't hurt humans?"
"Even thinking about it gives him a migraine," Buffy answers. Cordelia almost thought she heard regret in her voice. "Anything more then that and his head just about explodes."
"But he can still fight demons, right?" She inquires hopefully.
"Tear them apart," Buffy confirms. In the background she can hear Angel complaining about her bringing Spike around him. "Only thing is you have to pay him."
"Don't worry. Angel's picking up the tab," Cordelia answers. "So, where is he?"
Spike crushes out the burnt out stub of a cigarette as whoever had been pounding on his door took the beat up again. It wouldn't have been bad if they had any talent what so ever, but seeing how they didn't, he rolls off the bed and crosses the small room in two quick strides. He pulls open the door with a vicious jerk. Seeing Wesley, the other watcher the slayer had gotten fired, standing on the other side- a cross in one hand and a cocked and loaded crossbow in the other- looking as petrified as he'd ever seen a human look. "Sod off," he tells his fellow Englishman before slamming the door in his face.
"We have money," comes his hesitant reply.
Spike pulls the door open. After all there was no fun in insulting someone if you didn't have the satisfaction of seeing their face. "Sorry mate, don't swing that way, but if you're a smart lad you might be able to land a few extra pounds in your paycheck." The look of pure shock on his face was positively priceless as far as Spike was concerned. The only thing that would have made the moment even more perfect for the bleached blonde vampire was if the great poofter of grandsire himself had been there.
Cordelia had no idea what Spike had just said, it was too British. She steps forward brushing past Wesley as she slaps two hundred dollars onto his bare, toned, and delicious looking chest. "For you to protect us," she informs him.
Spike smirks as he takes the money out of her hand. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Caritas was packed despite it being the middle of the week. A Fleiri'sch demon, a sickly looking four foot tall, ten limbed creature whose round body was a swirling mixture of light browns and lime green that sometimes ran together forming colors no eye should ever have to gaze upon, was on the stage at the moment. He stood on six legs, each ending in a sharp six inch spear like point. His other four limbs ended in razor edged pincers. His mouth, the only vulnerable part of the creature, was located on the underside of his hard shelled body and was filled with row upon row of jagged flesh tearing teeth.
Despite his appearance the creature was doing a spectacular rendition of Joan Jett's I Love Rock and Roll. Granted his natural singing voice was a high pitched wail that sounded like boulders being ground to dust in grinder, but considering what his species normally sounded like it was comparable to listening to Aretha Franklin.
As the creature finishes his number anybody looking at the host would see the tear in his eyes. Weather that was because he found his voice so beautiful or because he felt like he just got off the rack was anybody's guess. Clapping diligently Lorne makes his way towards the stage. "Okay everyone. Big round of applause for, Ssslyynxthxl," he exhorts the crowd causing the scattered clapping to become a raucous cheer. "There truly are not words to describe just how much I was moved," he mumbles under the applause. "Next up," he begins as the door at the top of the stairs opens.
A deathly hush falls over the club as the door closes behind the two humans at the top of the stairs. Lorne watches as intrigued as everyone else as the couple descends the stairs. Aside from the tennis shoes, the girl was dressed like the woman from the far east. Her clothing was all light, loose, and airy. She looked a little pale but nothing a few days in the sun wouldn't be able to fix. The man looked like a North Dakota ranch hand, with his cowboy hat and boots, denim jeans, and rawhide jacket and gloves. Smoke drifted from the smoldering end of his cigar as he steps into the club proper.
The girl looked itchy, like she couldn't wait for a fight despite the fact her face said she just finished one doozy of a tussle. She was looking around the club as if she was sizing up the patrons. Judging who was the toughest creature in the building.
Her companion was the exact opposite. He acted as if there was nothing unusual about the patrons. Almost like he had been in a million places far worse then what was in this bar. The girl hesitated a moment before trailing him to the bar giving each demon she passed a closer inspection.
Lorne comes back to himself with a start. "Right," he picks up a little flustered. "Lets give it up for Earl who's going to give us a knock 'em dead rendition of Van Halen's eighty-four classic Hot For Teacher," he enthuses as he steps from the stage and the music picks up.
"My skin's itching so much it feels like it's on fire," Faith complains as she sits down at the bar next to Logan. "I don't think I've ever been around a quarter of this many demons and not been fighting for my life."
"Keep a handle on it," he growls lowly as the bar tender makes his way over to them. "Two glasses and a bottle of your best whiskey," he says and waits for him to move on before turning his attention back to Faith. "Now's not a good time to be starting anything," he advises her in gruff whisper.
Faith gives him a light smirk, "not scared of a few demons are you?"
Logan pins her to the floor with a withering glare as the bar tender returns filling the two glasses. Without taking his eyes off Faith Logan says, "leave the bottle." As the bar tender walks off Faith still finds herself pinned to the spot under his black eye gaze. "Let me just make one thing clear for you. I've been in battles from end of this universe to the other, walked on more worlds then you can even imagine. I've been to the very edge of time, stood against an entity so powerful that he could have been god himself. Waged an assault on the very heart of hell for the soul of a friend. Killed more men, demons, and aliens then your likely to see in a hundred lives. All of that without batting an eye," he says before downing his shot of whiskey. He allows the moment to drag on for a few seconds to let what he just said sink in. "Each and every time there was fear. Anybody that tells you any different is either a liar or a fool. The trick is, control it. Make it work for you, not the other way around."
"That's advice easier said then followed ain't it sweet cheeks?" Lorne inquires as he walks up to the pair. "Not often I get a pair of humans in here," he comments a second before taking a sip of his light pink sea breeze.
Faith takes a look at him and winces at the brightness of his blue suit, jacket and pants. At the way it goes with his red silk shirt and purple tie. Turning away from the green skin demon Faith picks up her shot of whiskey and drains it in a single gulp.
Logan refills his shot glass. Picking it up he turns around to face Lorne, "we're looking for a portal to Pylea," he stops noticing how the color fades from Lorne's face. "We hear you're the man to see," he finishes in a voice that could be considered threatening. He knocks the shot back, slowly savouring the taste of whiskey in his mouth.
Kitty slowly approaches the ragged looking group of dirty and disheveled humans. Some were gesturing and pointing at her like they weren't sure she was real. As if she was some kind of mirage. Some were standing around leaning on wooden tipped spears, others had short swords on their hips, and heavy looking daggers. Everyone she could see was dressed in the same type of animal hides. Just like she had thought they might be when she had seen the hides tanning in the sun back where she had first woken up.
She had spotted their camp from the shady tree she spent the hottest part of the day in. Spotted the smoke from their fires. Not knowing what to expect, and having no better prospects available to her at the moment, she had taken a chance and trekked her way across the baking hot ground.
As she nears the camp she begins to pick up parts of conversations. Even more interesting she can understand what they're saying. Things like: "Look at how she's dressed." "Where did she come from?" "She's not wearing a collar." "How did she get this far out?"
She smiles broadly as she hears English being spoken, but she would have smiled just as broadly hearing any of the two dozen human languages she knows how to speak. As she closes in on the camp she see the guards tensing, making ready just in case she turns out to be a threat. Keeping her hands easily visible she stops just at the edge of their camp. "I'm not here to cause trouble," she says in a loud clear voice a little dry from not having anything to drink all day. "I got lost in the wilderness and the..."
"Sucked through a portal is what you mean," a snide voice says from out of the jumbled mass of people. The crowd parts for a gangly man, with a gray flecked beard, and in his mid forties. He walks up to her with an appraising gaze. Stopping in front of her of says, "lucky for you there wasn't a trapper there else they woulda had you in a collar."
"You mean this?" She asks tossing the metal collar on the ground. The people gasp as they seemingly take a step back and lean in closer at the same time. A rippling murmur takes up through the crowd.
"Where'd you get that?" The man standing in front of her asks in a hard voice.
"I took it of the man that had tried to put around my neck," she snarls back. She had disliked doing what she had to do an order to get away from the man and his tracking beast. The man would live, once he got his foot out of the boulder she had trapped it in. The animal on the other hand would never draw breath again. It had been able to track her nearly as well as Logan, and would have eventually run her to ground, which left her with one option. Phase it into an object and leave it there. She had hated doing it, especially to a mindless creature just doing what he had been trained to do, but she would have hate having a collar around her neck even more.
Blue streaks of lightening streak through the air in short burst for a moment as a vortex opens up above the town square. The towns people quickly rush to get away from the opening even though they didn't have anything to worry about as a body appears in the center of the portal. An instant later the vortex closes as if it had never been there and the man plummets twenty feet to the ground below.
Logan hits with enough force to crack the hard stones he lands on. Groggily he shakes his head as his body quickly repairs the damage the fall had caused. A quick taste of the air and he knows he's not alone. There are humans around him, smelling of fear and resignation. The scent of demons though sets his fire burning, not that it had a far way to go after being in a bar filled with them.
In Caritas though there had been an air of passivity around them. Now there wasn't. Springing to his feet Logan quickly scans the crowd, humans were backing away, while the demons were falling to around him with weapons ready in hand. There was a confident air around about them, as if they didn't expect any trouble from one little human.
Faith was nowhere to be seen, or smelt even though she had been standing right next to him. The book was gone as well, but both of those were concerns for later. Right now he had enough to be worry him.
"You want me?" He growls at them his claws springing from their sheathes inside his forearms released by nothing more then a single thought. Their now familiar grating, loud in his ears, as metal slides along metal. He can smell their hesitation, the fear that suddenly seeps into their scent along with their stiffening resolve. "Then come and get me," he roars savagely as he plunges into the nearest group of demons burying the claws of his left hand in the chest of one as his slash at another slices open his gut. Recovering quickly they charge the lone human hoping to bury him with sheer numbers.
The loose dirt gives way under the heels of Faith's sneakers as she stumbles out of the portal. Her arms pin wheeling wildly she reaches out for anything nearby to grab hold of only there's nothing. She tumbles backward expecting to hit the ground any time but the only thing she comes in contact with is more air.
In desperation she manages to twist in the air bringing herself closer to the face of the bluff the portal had deposited her on. Her fingers come in contact with a small rock outcropping and she latches on with everything she has hoping and praying for all she was worth that the damn thing would hold. She had just found somebody willing to help her get her life back. More importantly she finally wanted to get her life back and she wasn't about to give that up for anything.
Weather there was somebody listening to her or not she doesn't know but the jagged edge of rock holds. It cuts into her fingers, slicking the rocks with her blood, and her shoulder feels as if she dislocated the joint, but the ledge held. Dangling by one arm she looks down at what was below her, and breathes out a relieved sigh as she scans the rock face. A foot more and the face curved into the side of the hill which would have made catching hold of anything impossible. It also made the thought of climbing down an equally unappealing one. A fifty foot drop onto hard rocks probably wasn't any worse then falling from her pent house into the back of a moving truck, but she was in no hurry to spend another eight months in a coma just so she could judge the two.
Looking back up she decides it was a much better idea to climb ten feet up then try and climb fifty down. With a slight grunt of pain she swings her left arm up to grab hold another piece of rock thankful that while the top might have been sandy there was plenty of hand holds on the side of the cliff face. She was also thankful she had spent so much time back in Boston climbing the rock faces so she could dive into the ponds below. It gave her a little bit of knowledge of what to look for here.
She took her time as she made her way back up the cliff face, haste in rock climbing often led to disaster. She checks each handhold before giving it more then a fraction of her height and even then she applies it gingerly to make sure she didn't misjudged. Always ready with the other hand just in case she had.
Despite the fact that she was slayer, and was hardly coming close to exerting herself she was sweating quite a bit. The mental pressure of not making any mistakes was worse then anything she could remember doing before.
Half a foot from the top was her undoing. The outcropping looked as safe as any she taken before and none of those had broke on her. Plus she was grabbing hold with her uninjured left arm.
A gust of wind kicked up blowing the loose pack dirt from the top over the edge and directly into her face. Sealing her eyes tightly she was able to keep most of the grit from blowing into her eyes. Once the wind dies down she reaches up with her right hand to scrub at her eyes having forgotten she never checked her left hand hold.
Before she can react it breaks away from the face completely. Without warning she topples over backward. "Fuck you!" She screams at the top of her lungs as she plummets downward. Unaware that she still holds on to the piece of ledge that was her undoing.
Fred had heard the hoarse scream, that sounded like an American curse, the same as she had heard the portal opening almost ten minutes before it. She knew it wouldn't take long for the hunters to get here, a day, maybe two. She knew if she didn't hurry it was possible they would be able to pick up her scent. She didn't want to leave her cave though. It had been her home since she had first escaped captivity just over three years ago. She didn't want to go back to being a slave, or worst yet having her head chopped off because she had escaped.
But she couldn't just leave the dark hair girl lying there. Somehow she was still alive. She had seen her struggling to move. It was nothing more then her arms or legs flopping about. Having fallen sixty feet, landing on the hard, flat rocks less then twenty feet from her cave, and still being able to move at all was saying something profound about the young girl.
Scrambling out from the safety of her cave Fred quickly reaches her. There wasn't nearly as much blood as she had thought there was going to be. Placing her fingers on girl's neck Fred tries to check for a pulse. Faith's eyes snap open at the soft touch and with a surge of strength she grabs hold of the strange brunette's forearm.
Fred had tried to jump away when the injured girl's dark eyes had suddenly snapped open with as much life burning within them as she had ever seen in a person before. Somehow the girl had latched onto her left arm with a bloody steel like grip that Fred didn't think she could break even if she were to try. There was just something in those hard eyes that compelled her to stay where she was as the girl worked her jaw.
Faith hated this. Hated being weak, in trouble, in need of someone's help. It was part of the reason she had spiraled out of control in Sunnydale. Needing help but being unable to ask for it. She would rather chew her arm off then say those two little words. To admit that she couldn't do everything on her own. That at times even she needed help. Swallowing whatever pride she had left she manages to force the words out of her throat. "Help me?" It comes out sounding hoarse and weak and small and so many other things that a man that used and abused her for most of her young life had driven into her head that she would always be. Things she had promised herself she was never going to be again even if it kills her.
Only the girl above doesn't seem to hear any of that as she nods her head. There was sadness and concern in her face. Her face was wet but she wasn't sweating, and it wasn't raining so that could only mean she was crying. Faith wonders what she could be crying for. It couldn't be over her. Nobody had ever cried over her before.
Buffy had though, her mind whispers to her as everything begins to fade out, when she had put eight inches of steel through my gut.
Buffy had cried then. Faith could clearly remember seeing them standing out stark against her cheeks as she had looked down upon her golden counterpart. She chuckles softly as her eyes close. She couldn't help it. She found the thought kind of amusing. That Buffy should cry for her then, after stabbing her instead of any other time they had known each other.
Then again I never gave Buffy any reason to cry for me.
________________________________________________________________________
Say Goodbye to Hollywood - Billy Joel
Bobby's driving through the city tonight-
Through the lights-
In a hot new rent-a-car.
He joins the lover in his heavy machine-
It's a scene down on Sunset Boulevard.
Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.
Johnny's taking care of things for awhile-
And his style is so right for troubadors.
They got him sitting with his back to the door
Now he won't be my fast gun anymore.
Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-
Forever...forever.
So many faces in and out of my life,
Some will last, some will just be now and then.
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.
Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.
Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-
Forever...forever.
So many faces in and out of my life,
Some will last, some will just be now and then.
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.
Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.