~Star Mouse
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"What event brought about the downfall of Napoleon in 1871?"
Faith chewed on her pencil. Didn't he die a couple chapters ago?
She flipped ahead a few pages, in search of more easily acquired knowledge.
. . . Victorian Compromise?
. . . Social Dawinism. How social could Galopogan finches be?
She concentrated for a few minutes, then casually pushed her Western Civ. materials over the side of the bed. The teacher wouldn't be collecting it for a few more days, anyway. Algebra now, Risorgemento later.
. . . Y = a(x-h)2 + k. Axis of symmetry lies on line X = 4. Parabola includes point (2, -5). Find equation.
...She lunged for the Civ book.
. . . The Franco-Prussian war proved more than he had bargained on, however, and in 1870 Bismark. . . She looked longingly at the math book...
And was saved from the death spiral by the ringing doorbell.
Faith leapt up in a whirl of brown hair and cloud pajamas, and fled from the textbook~infested room. The stairs shuddered under her running feet.
As she appoached the door, she picked up voices on the other side.
"I still can't believe you have friends."
"Just shut up and drink your cow blood."
"This is so disgusting. The hemoglobin's all off."
Faith swung the door open on Spike, holding a brown paper bag with "Barker Bros. Fine Meats since 1904" on the side. Standing next to him...
"Oh, shit?"
The other leather~clad blonde raised an eyebrow and took a noisy sip from a styrofoam cup.
"I still can't believe the butchers' had straws," Spike was saying.
The woman turned to him. "I know it. What vamp would settle for this crap in a town where midnight strolls through the cemetary is a socially acceptable activity?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Hey, Faith. Can we come in?"
Faith's brow furrowed. "Uh, Spike? Is that..?"
"Yeh. Uh, Faith, meet Elizabeth the Black. 'Lizabeth, this is Faith."
The vampiress swallowed. She smiled sweetly at the brunette, blood on her lips. "Please, call me Buffy."
Faith, on her part, managed to squeeze a quick answering smile in between her look of shock and her look of confusion. She prided herself on not being the Alice in Wonderland kinda girl, going around saying "Heavens, me, how strange!." When she'd found out last year that the incredibly hot transfer student was a vampire hunter, she'd signed on for the war right then and there. She'd been doing her part to rid the world of evil and annoy Ms. Calender ever since. She'd learned to go with the flow on this kind of thing.
But she also wasn't a total idiot. She didn't budge.
Spike sighed. "Can you just invite us in, please? Buffy's promised~"
"Hey! I didn't say you could call me that. Stick to Elizabeth, Gel Boy."
"Shut up, vampire," he said, not turning away from Faith. "Buffy has promised not to feed on you."
Buffy raised the cup. "On anyone. Hence the not~so~savory beverage. May the bloodbank find itself with picked locks and lighter pockets in the near future. Human is so much better than cow." She tipped her cup to the toast, and took a swig.
"Uh, good?" Faith said, opening the door a bit wider, but still blocking the threshold with her body. Maybe she wasn't so bad... A misunderstood anti~hero--
Buffy smiled, flashing a bit of fang. "Not for you," she replied.
--Or not. Faith bounced back on her heels. "Spike!"
The Slayer waved the hand that wasn't holding the paper bag. "Don't mind her. We've spent the last half hour going over and over this. Something's scaring her enough to ask for our help. If she's lying," he shrugged, "we can always stake her."
Buffy made a face around her straw. "Hey!"
Faith bit her lip. She matched Buffy's gaze for a moment. She seemed to come to a decision.
She ran back up the stairs.
Spike blinked. Buffy looked at him.
"Okay, that didn't work. Is she your only friend, or should we move on?"
Spike opened his mouth to retort, but was stopped by Faith's return. She'd picked up a crucifix and a bottle of holy water. She sent the vampire a death glare.
"Come in, Buffy."
Buffy breezed through the door in a clap of leather. "Don't mind if I do. What a nice house!" she gushed, looking around in theatrical awe. She cocked her head at a cross~stitched "Home Sweet Home" framed on the wall. She nodded.
"Very chic." She looked over at Faith. "Kitchen this way?" She disappeared in the direction she'd pointed without waiting for a response.
Faith stared after her. Her blank look was starting to worry Spike. He stepped across the threshold and clapped her on the back.
"Y'ok, pet?"
She nodded. "Five by five. Is there a vampire in my house?"
Spike patted her back again. "Yup. C'mon." He headed in the direction Buffy had taken.
Faith closed the door.
There's a vampire in my house. In my house, there is a vampire. Spike has brought me a pet vampire. . . . There's a vampire in my house, therefore I cannot possibly do my homework.
Faith let out a low giggle, tossed her hair, and followed the Slayer into the kitchen.
Spike was setting the contents of the bag on the counter, while buffy searched the cabinets.
"Glasses are over the sink," Faith offered.
The short blonde shot her a smile and reached over to the appropriate cupboard. Faith watched Spike for a second.
"Blood?"
"Blood." He pulled out another 20oz styrofoam cup. That made nine. Even Faith could do that math.
She rounded the counter.
"Spike? That's some wicked refreshment to be packin' for a pit stop." She glanced over at the vampire now staring speculatively at the microwave. Faith realized belatedly that it would have been better to direct her houseguest to the cheap plastic coffee mugs, rather than the nicer glasses. Wonder if blood stains. She put her cheek close to Spike's and lowered her voice slightly. "Exactly how long are you staying?"
The Slayer had the grace to look sheepish. But he quickly replaced it with reasonable...ness. He whispered back.
"Luv, if she goes back to her place, bad .stuff'll happen. 'S kill or be killed, sort of thing. Off the juice... Not such a grand idea from another predator's point a view. An' somethin's got 'er spooked. She needs a place to stay that needs an invite."
"So she can stay at your house!"
"Are you bleedin' crazy, woman?! My da'll think we're havin' a bonk fest!"
An unladylike snort sounded behind them, from the blonde that had been listening attentively. "Not f'in' likely, Sunshine. Faith? What's the best setting for blood, ya think?" The last part was almost polite. Faith wondered about that.
"Not sure," she replied blandly. "Coffee's usually a minute and a half, if that helps."
"Hmm..." Buffy bit her lip. "Blood's a little thicker, though. I'll set it for two."
"If it bubbles over, you are so cleaning up the nastiness."
"Please. As if a creature of evil would stoop to helping with housework," she scoffed. But she did watch nervously through the viewscreen as the glass rotated.
Faith turned around to find Spike loading the other blood into the refrigerator. She watched, slightly aghast, as he took out the cranberry juice and salsa to make room for the last two styrofoam containers.
"What do you think you're doing there, bro?" she asked casually.
"Unpacking," he replied.
The microwave beeped, and Buffy retrieved her steamy beverage. "C'mon, Faith! Doncha wanna help save the world?"
"Yeah, sure. That's great and all, but can't you use Angel's house to save the world?"
"Once again, luv. Bonk fest. You're both birds. You can tell your parents she's a friend from school who's house exploded, or somat."
"Or termites! You could say my house has termites," Buffy piped up. "Ya know, this stuff tastes better warm."
"Actually, my parents are out of town for the weekend--" Shit! She thought, when Spike and Buffy both grinned.
Angel was in the cemetary. Well, one of the cemetaries. He had a flashlight out and a squirt bottle of holy water in his jacket pocket.
How the hell am I supposed to find the right vamps?
"Cordelia!" he hissed. There was no reply. "Alexander!"
There was no response forthcoming from the darkness, and he really couldn't summon up any genuine regret.
He checked his coordinates by the headstones around him, not thinking to worry about the fact that he knew the cemetaries so well. Spike had said it was between the Flanders crypt and the O'Riley headstone grouping. Okay... Right. Summers. That's it.
He'd been called over to Faith's house less than an hour earlier, just in time to watch the indeed attractive vampiress that had attacked him at the Bronze the other night throw a temper tantrum and demand that someone get word to her childer that she wasn't dead. --er.
Faith had immediately cited hosting duties and pajamas, and Spike had pointed out that where evil vampiress went, so went he, so he had to stay there, with her. Angel had sighed, and accepted Buffy's hastily scrawled letter and directions.
Angel pulled the letter out of his coat pocket and wedged it in between the raised angel and the marker itself. He hadn't read it, but not for lack of trying. It was in French. There. Mission accomplished. He stood, brushed off his pants, and turned around.
"Hey."
Uh oh.
Angel turned slightly to get a good look at the young man to his left.
"Evening," he replied cautiously.
No moves were made. Finally, even he felt the pressure to break the stoic silence. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" he tried.
The young man with the light red hair was suddenly in full gameface.
Angel nodded. "Oh. That's what." Then he ran.
A firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to a stop. "Hang on, hang on," the smaller man said. He whirled the teenager around and, to Angel's general shock and confusion, let go.
"You've got the look of a man on a mission.What's going on?"
Angel struggled for words. "Huh?" he tried again. "Sorry, but isn't this usually the part where I scream?"
The vampire shrugged. "I'm not stopping you. Name's Oz." He caught on to Angel's confusion. "Oh, I'm not going to hurt you. Yet. See, I make it a point not to kill anyone doing something productive."
"Oh." Angel paused for a second. "I'm being very productive."
"Funny, that's what they all say." He put hands in pockets. "Please; I'd love to hear more."
Angel thought for a second, racing through options and the pretty much nonexistant chances for escape... "Mind if we take a field trip?"
Oz tilted his head. "So you're saying you'd be more comfortable not standing in a cemetary at midnight talking to a vampire?"
"Call me crazy."
The vampire shrugged. "Lead on. I'm free for a good four hours while my girlfriend's out hunting."
Angel grimaced at the implications, and edged around Oz, towards the road. He followed right behind, giving Angel the uncomfortable impression of being stalked, or trailed.
Eventually they reached Faith's front door, and Angel knocked twice.
In the kitchen, Buffy looked up from a TeenPeople. "Was that the door?"
Faith paused for a second. She was making macaroni and cheese from a box. "I don't hear anything."
"Someone wants in, they'll ring the bell," Spike said.
Back on the porch, Angel looked over at Oz.
"Not home?" the shorter man asked.
"They should be. I don't know why..."
Oz reached over and depressed the dinger. A few seconds later, the door opened on Faith.
"Heya," she said, looking at Angel. "Get the letter sent?"
"Yeah. Made an acquaintance."
Faith looked at Oz, and smiled. "Hey. Come on in."
"No-!" Angel sighed as Oz almost-smirked. "Too late."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Angel waved a hand to indicate his companion. "Meet my new vampire friend, Oz."
Faith slapped her forehead. "Dammit! What are the odds I'd get two in one night?"
"Two?" said Oz.
Right about then, Spike and Buffy wandered in from the kitchen, wondering what the hold up was.
Buffy blinked. "Oz?"
"Buffy?"
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Chapter 23 of Irony Becomes Her is also up. Pardon my tardiness.
~Star Mouse
