Brave New World
Chapter Seven
"You know, Anya," Wes said as they left the final house and walked slowly to the end of the street where they were going to meet Dawn and Andrew. "Your technique could use a little work."
"Technique?" she looked at him. "What technique? Sexual technique?"
"Anya," he groaned. "I meant your news breaking technique, I don't think that 'Hello, there's going to be a war, leave town or die,' was the best way of getting them out. And by the way, I didn't request a visual."
"Don't act like you don't like it," she huffed. "You haven't had sex in two years."
"How do you know that?" he retorted.
"Wesley," she said patiently. "There are five woman in that mansion. Me, Willow, Buffy, Dawn and Tara. I know you haven't jumped me and Tara's gay. Buffy isn't going to be jumping anyone anytime soon and Dawn's underage. Buffy would kick your ass if you slept with her. So unless you've done it with Willow, I'm guessing you haven't at all. So, have you done it with Willow?"
"I most certainly have not!" he protested, blushing furiously. "Anyway, she's not my type."
"Hell, after two years, I'm surprised you even have a type," Anya shrugged, sitting on the bench at the end of the street to wait for Dawn and Andrew.
"Yes, well, the same to you," he answered, sitting down beside her.
"A year and a half."
"Excuse me?"
"I've not had sex in a year and a half," she pouted. "There was a guy in LA. Used to be a demon, but like me, someone interfered and now he's human. Interlocking bodies, so he said. I think Xander would have been better at it. I was going to find out when I got back."
She fell into silence and Wes regarded her affectionately for a moment.
"Y'know," he said after a while. "I was under the impression you no longer pined for Xander Harris."
"Sometimes," she shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd been alive now what might have happened when I got back."
"Yes. But I meant that I thought you had transferred your affections elsewhere."
Anya glanced at him, lowered her eyes and looked in the opposite direction.
"How long do you think Andrew and Dawn are gonna be?" she asked.
"Anya," Wes warned. "You're avoiding the subject."
"I don't like Spike like that!" she snapped, folding her arms.
"I wasn't talking about Spike."
"Or Andrew."
"Again, I wasn't talking about him."
"Or you!"
"Then you're obviously mad," he smiled. "But in all seriousness, I was actually talking about Doyle."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied breezily.
"Oh yes you do," he answered, "I'm talking 'Oh, Doyle! Take the painkillers for the vision headache!' and, 'Doyle, you drink to much, it's not good for you.' Am I making my point?"
"Was that weird high voice supposed to be me?" she asked, accusation heavy in her voice.
"Well, yes," he admitted sheepishly.
"That was crap."
"I know. But did I make my point?"
"You're delusional. I don't even like Doyle that much."
"Whatever you say."
"I don't!"
"Am I saying anything?"
"Shut up!"
They bickered the entire way back to the hotel. Dawn informed Andrew that they did that all the time. It was Dawn's secret opinion that Anya and Wes bickered to show affection, Anya did it with just about everyone, though Wes seemed to enjoy more than anyone else.
The door swung open to let them in and the four of them squinted in the sudden darkness. They could make out everyone crowded by the door and Dawn instantly knew something was up. Willow was glowering at Spike, Tara's face was blotchy from tears, Doyle was nursing his knuckles and Spike was sporting a fading bruised jaw. Buffy was pacing and stopped immediately when the door closed behind Anya, Wesley, Dawn and Andrew.
"How'd it go?" she asked.
"Fine," Dawn answered. "Took some persuading, but the two families we saw are both going. We collect them from their houses at midnight tomorrow."
"Same here," Wes nodded. "Anya used her infamously subtle technique and the three families we saw are queuing up to leave," Anya jabbed his arm and glared at him, he smirked in return, stopping short of sticking his tongue out at her. "Er… This is probably a stupid question, but what happened here?"
"Nothing," Spike told him petulantly.
Dawn raised her eyebrows, but remained silent, she would ask Spike later. Anya glanced at Doyle who shrugged and Wes eyed Willow thoughtfully. Andrew cast his eyes over the group and shook his head in confusion.
"I had a dream," Buffy announced.
"A dream?" Wes asked, his Watcher rising to the surface.
"A Slayer one?" Anya asked.
"Yeah," Buffy looked a little shaken and Dawn slipped her arm around her sister's waist.
"Come on, tell us in here," she said in a low voice.
Dawn pulled Buffy into the living area and pushed her onto the lone couch. Buffy noticed the dynamics of the group had shifted. She would usually sit with Wes on one side and Dawn on the other, curled against Tara. Willow and Spike normally sat opposite them, with Doyle beside Spike to share a packet of cigarettes. Anya would sit by Doyle, gripping his arm hard enough to make him curse when there was bad news.
Today, Willow studiously avoided Spike and sat with Tara. Doyle sat on Tara's other side, Anya frowned at them before taking her usual seat beside Doyle. Wes had sat down beside Buffy and Dawn was about to do the same, but she saw Andrew hesitate before sitting by Spike who stood alone, leaning against the fireplace. Knowing Spike's tendency to let rip during these meetings, Dawn abandoned her space beside Buffy and sat cross legged beside Andrew, shooting Spike a warning look.
"You had a dream then, Buffy?" Doyle asked after a moment's silence.
"Uh, yeah," Buffy was frowning around at the new arrangement, Dawn decided that Buffy had as much idea what was going on as Dawn did.
"Care to fill us in, Slayer?" Spike asked. "Or is this twenty bleedin' questions?"
Dawn whacked Spike hard on the shin and he glared down at her, but she had grown used to his posturing and glared right back.
"It was…" she took a deep breath and everyone leaned in, intrigued by what had gotton Buffy so upset. Anya's hand wound around Doyle's upper arm and he covered it with his own hand, ready to pull it away should she start to cut off his circulation. Buffy looked up. "It was Angel."
There was a sharp intake of breath and Willow moved along the couch to touch Buffy's arm.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"Fine," Buffy attempted a smile. "It was just a dream, Will."
Just a dream she wished were real. Just a dream that had her in tears when she woke up. Just a dream that reminded her again that she had lost him. She didn't care that he said he had never left her, never would. She couldn't feel him. If she could just feel him maybe this whole thing would be easier.
But it wasn't.
"What did… What did he tell you?" Wes asked carefully.
"Something about Faith," she said, silently replaying the other things he said even as she spoke. "He said that her being back means more than just the fact we have to fight."
"More?" Tara asked. "What does that mean?"
"She's still a Slayer," Buffy answered.
"Oh," Wes said.
"'Oh'?" Anya echoed. "What does that mean?"
"The Slayer's power is used for good," he replied.
"You saying that this brave new world of the Mayor's is a good thing?" Spike asked. "Get to the point, Watcher."
"I mean that whatever Faith has done, her power is still essentially supposed to be used for good," Wes replied snappishly. "And she knows that. And I don't mean she thinks it, it will be inside her, that knowledge. It's built in with the power."
"Maybe it's lost its voice," Anya offered. "'Cause she sure ain't listening to it."
"She's looking for something," Buffy cut in. "And I don't mean a world ending object. Angel said she's looking for her place. Human weakness, he said."
"What's that mean?" Andrew asked.
"It's what Faith told me when I was unconscious," she mused. "We thought Faith was the Mayor's human weakness, but he didn't fall for it."
"That doesn't mean she isn't," Willow pointed out. "It just means he's smarter than we thought. So who did Angel mean when he said human weakness? The Mayor's?"
"I don't think so," Buffy answered slowly. "I think he meant her."
"But why would that be important?" Anya asked.
"Maybe..." Doyle started. "Maybe Faith's the way."
"What?" Willow asked. "Faith's the way?"
"To ending this. Maybe we need her?" his voice raised slightly in question, he looked toward Buffy for confirmation.
"Need her?" Dawn cried. "We need to stop her is what we need!"
"Just a suggestion, kid," he said, holding up his hands in defence.
"Um, hi?" Andrew lifted his hand hesitantly. "Can I say something?" they looked at him, silently letting him know he could. "Maybe we need to use her human weakness to stop her?"
"I like that idea better," Dawn said, pointing at Andrew who grinned.
"I have to admit that I do too," Wes admitted.
There were nods and murmurs of agreement. Buffy stood up.
"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see. Will, Tara, did you do the spell?"
"Yep," Willow nodded.
"The general's under hypnosis and the weaponry will be here with the food drop tomorrow," Tara told her.
"Good, that means we're ok for getting everyone out."
"Now what?" Dawn asked.
"Now?" Buffy looked puzzled. "Now there's not a lot to do. You might as well make the most of it before this thing gets rolling. Thanks, guys."
She left and the others started to settle in for conversations or get up to go do something. Spike stalked off out of the room and Dawn tailed him, determined to get answers. Willow ignored him and started a conversation with Tara that Andrew joined in. Anya pulled out a nail file with slightly shaking fingers and Wes turned to Doyle.
"What happened there?" he asked, pointing to Doyle's red knuckles.
"I punched Spike," he answered casually.
"Oh," Wes nodded, then frowned as he realised what Doyle said. "Did I miss something?"
Buffy was going to get some of her weapons out. New weaponry would be great, but she was kinda attached to Mr Pointy, her crossbow and a particular sword. From the first floor landing, she saw Spike slam the door of the living area open and stalk into the kitchen, followed by Dawn. And she heard the voices of her friends as they settled in to enjoy what little normal time they had left.
"I can't just leave you, y'know. Not when you've got this big battle."
She gulped hard, ignoring the echoing voice of a memory. Once she had checked on the war worthy-ness of her favourite weapons, she'd start a training session. Until then, she wanted her friends to be people, not an army.
"You'll never lose me. I'll always be here. I'd never leave you."
"You were going to. You said you were going to leave."
"I know. But do you honestly think that I could stay away forever? I couldn't, not from you."
She stopped, leaning against the wall, staring around the hall. Why him? Why did he have to bring her a message? All she could remember was him, what if she forgot something important about Faith because all she could think of was him?
"Angel. Don't go. Please. You haven't been here long. Stay, just a little while longer. Please, just for a while. Don't go, not yet."
"I have to."
"Angel, I love you!"
"I love you too. Forever."
She touched her lips, closing her eyes. If she thought hard enough, she could still feel his lips, taste him, feel his hair and arms. If she could have, she would have willingly stayed in that dream forever, if it meant being with him.
She forced her eyes open. She mustn't dwell on it. She couldn't sink into that depression again, not now that she had a war to fight. She had people to protect and she was going to do it right this time. No one was going to die on her watch and if that meant forcing Angel from her mind until this war was over, then so be it.
She took a deep breath and focused on what training she should run her friends through that evening. She opened the door of the room she shared with Dawn and froze.
There was a figure at the window, silhouetted in the setting sun. The figure turned slowly as Buffy reached out for the sword beside her bed, squinting to see if she knew this person. It wasn't the first time the Mayor had sent some demon to take out the Slayer whenever she annoyed him, she would have thought he would have stopped doing that now, seeing as she killed them every time.
The figure, still silhouetted, put their hand on their hip and tossed sickeningly familiar thick hair.
"Hey, B. D'ya miss me?"