Brave New World
Chapter Nine

The Mayor neatly dodged the flying missile, smiling the whole time as Faith demolished the room in her blind rage. He didn't mind, though he had been rather fond of the couch that now lay in gutted shreds across the carpet. But, girls would be girls and Slayers would be Slayers. Faith had to vent her anger and frustration and better it be here than in front of the Mayor's army. It wouldn't look too good if the girl the Mayor had put in charge of them lost it so very badly. And the Mayor did like to keep a neat and tidy face on things.

He watched Faith spin around, leaping into a wild roundhouse kick that snapped a lamp in half. Thankfully, she stopped then. Her ragged breathing filled the room as she turned slowly, pushing her hair out of her face and dropping the knife she had gutted the couch with to the floor. She ran her eyes over the remains of said couch, the lamp and the three holes in the wall. Her gaze flickered to the Mayor, then down to her feet.

"Sorry, Boss," she mumbled.

"No problem," he answered. "I'll get Abigail to clean it up. I was looking for an excuse to change this wallpaper," he ran his fingers over one of the holes in the wall before turning back to her. "What happened?"

She shrugged, flopping into a chair she hadn't ripped to shreds. He did likewise, leaning forward and smiling encouragingly.

"I went to see Buffy," she said after a moment.

"Oh," the Mayor nodded. "You went to the mansion?"

"Yeah."

"Want to tell me about it?"

There was the fatherly tone Faith remembered, the slight cheeriness that never went away. She met his eyes and his smile made her grin for a second, but it faded as she went on.

"She kicked my ass," Faith mumbled.

"Impossible!" the Mayor protested. "Buffy Summers has nothing on my girl!"

"Thanks, but… She really did."

"Why'd you go there?"

"She put me in a coma for two years," Faith reminded him, then shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I just wanted to see what those two years have done to her."

"Given her a lot of worry lines," the Mayor said, nodding knowingly. "And without the make up, you can count every one."

"She had my knife," Faith said quietly, ignoring his attempt to brush this to one side. "The one you gave me."

"I know," the cheeriness vanished, simmering anger filling the place where it had been. "Tried to bait me with it on Graduation Day. I nearly fell for it. If I had, she would have blown up the school with me in it. Ten outta ten for ingenuity, zilch for the execution."

"We fought," Faith went on, feeling slightly proud that the Mayor hadn't fallen for Buffy's trick and warmed by the thought that he wanted to avenge her stabbing. "I nearly had her," Faith slammed her fist into her palm. "I nearly had her, Boss!"

"What underhanded trick did she pull to knock my girl off then, eh?"

"I dunno. I nearly had the knife, then she's straddling me. She could've cut my throat."

"But she didn't," the Mayor pointed out. "She didn't have the guts. She's not got your fire, Faith. That's why you're on my side and that's why they're going to lose again."

"But what if I screw up?" Faith asked. "I've been out of the game for two years, Boss! I'm not as strong as I used to be!"

"You're getting stronger everyday," there was something final in his tone. "Now, instead of going off to visit Miss Summers again, you can put my boys through their paces. Kill a couple of the weak ones if you want, cull the herd. Trust me, Faith, when Buffy starts her war, you'll be you're old self and you'll take her down. But unlike you, she won't get up again."

Faith smiled and allowed him to draw her up with him as he stood. He threw his arm around her shoulders.

"How about we go get ourselves a couple of glasses of milk while Abigail clears this place up? That'll build your strength up!"

Faith chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. An evil genius drinking milk, only in Sunnydale.

"Sure," she answered. "But y'know when you redecorate?" she gestured to the trashed room they were leaving behind. "Could the room not be pink this time?"

Buffy was as white as a sheet as she left the room she had heard Dawn go into. Wes was in the hall, looking for Dawn who he knew had gone to talk to Spike. He frowned at Buffy; she didn't seem to have noticed his presence.

"Buffy?" he asked, taking her hand to draw her to a halt.

"What?" she looked up at him and he felt panic start in the base of his stomach at the look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, determinedly keeping his voice level.

"Dawn's upset," she said. "Spike yelled at her."

"Is she all right now?"

"Yeah. She was just angry."

"That's all? You look pale, Buffy."

She attempted a smile, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm fine, just worried. Wondering if the military will being the weapons tomorrow, if we're ready, if this is the right thing to do."

"It's the only thing to do," he reminded her. "There's nothing else to do except go on like we have been for the past two years. Going on like that indefinately was never an option."

"Yeah. I know," Buffy shrugged. "Look, I'm just about to get the guys together for a training session. D'ya think you could talk to Spike? I don't have time to deal with a moody vampire right now."

"I'll go do that," he frowned at her again. "Are you sure that's all? You're just worried?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "There's nothing wrong. I don't know why I worry, you worry enough for all of us."

She gave him a gentle push and he shrugged; though still sure she was hiding something. He went off in the direction of the kitchen, glancing back to see a stony faced Dawn leave the room and follow Buffy to the main living area for training.

Wes peered into the rooms along the way. All equally dusty and all empty. He found Spike in the kitchen, staring into an empty packet of cigarettes, framed by an artistic splatter of blood on the dingy white wall.

"What happened here?" Wesley asked, staring at the mess.

Spike shrugged, not looking up. He sighed and crumpled the empty packet, tossing it in the direction of the bin.

"You upset Dawn," Wes stated, turning his attention back to Spike. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Not a lot. Kid should stop sticking her nose where it doesn't belong."

"You mean she asked you about what was going on with you all when we got back?" Spike didn't answer and Wes took that as a yes. "Did you tell her that you kissed Willow?"

Spike looked up sharply, eyes wide. Wes shrugged at the silent question.

"Doyle told me he hit you and he told me why. I take it Dawn was worried about you. So, of course, you alienated her. That's about four now, isn't it? Willow, Doyle, Tara and now Dawn. Four people you've upset in the space of a day."

"Are you forgetting who I am?" Spike asked, straightening up. "I'm bloody evil!"

"You're an arrogant bastard, that's what you are," Wes snapped back. He didn't mind Spike, found the fellow good company often enough. But he detested Spike's posturing, the constant need to prove he was still the Big Evil, when he wasn't. He was as much a White Hat now as the rest of them, it was something he would have to get used to.

Wes had fallen for the threats a few times, had backed off Spike whenever he started up like this. But not anymore, Wes had given up that kind of thing. And he was most definitely not going to be scared by a neutered vampire surviving on military pig's blood rations.

"Bugger off, Watcher," Spike sighed. "I'm not in the mood for you and your high horse."

"It may have escaped your attention, Spike, but I'm no longer a Watcher. Why did you take whatever the hell is wrong with you out on Dawn?"

"Because she was there," Spike shrugged.

"That's not good enough. She's barely sixteen, Spike, or hadn't you noticed? She may act like a grown up, but she certainly isn't. She shouldn't be here, we all know that. So it really doesn't help that you use your scare tactics on her."

"She wasn't scared," Spike retorted.

"I daresay she wasn't," Wes said. "As are none of the rest of us of you. But the least you could do is show her some respect. And while you're at it, stop screwing up people's lives! It's not fair. There's a war coming in a couple of days and all you can do is upset Willow and Tara."

"Stop playing the big man, Wesley," Spike spat. "It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not playing at anything. I happen to care about these people. I don't want them hurt. Not by the Mayor and certainly not by someone they consider a friend. Because they do, you know. Doyle enjoyed your company, so did Dawn. Tara liked you and Willow was downright fond of you. I don't understand why you went out of your way to hurt them."

"I didn't," Spike replied. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. Which, coming from me, is downright pitiful, but there it is. All this just happened."

Wes joined the vampire by the table, leaned against it and folded his arms.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"Make it right."

The soft voice startled the two men and they looked toward the door where Tara was standing, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Wesley," she said. "I think Anya's looking for a sparring partner."

Wes cast Spike a look, then nodded at Tara.

"I suppose I'll have to be that victim," he said.

"I guess," she answered, smiling at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked in undertone as he drew level with her.

"Fine," she nodded.

Wes raised his eyebrows, but left them to it, closing the kitchen door to give them some privacy.

Spike regarded Tara from a distance as she sat down at the table.

"Sit down, Spike," she said. "I think we should talk…"