=Chapter Four=
I put a lot of stuff aside and didn't deal with it for a long time after Willow and the others died. Once I finally decided to stop avoiding it all, my subconscious went into overtime trying to make up for lost coping time. The result? Nightmares. Really bad ones. They kind of followed me into the waking world for a while, so that I'd get shaken awake by Faith--who was drawn by the sound of my screams--and not be able to determine what was real and what wasn't.
They were about Glory, the nightmares. I used to think that was very strange. Because I would have thought that...that me killing Willow? I would have thought that would be my nightmare material. But, when I thought about it, I realized that I've done all the dealing I can about Willow. Mostly that's due to the crone in Berlin, who made me relive the memory, and the pit in Paris, where I had to wade through...well, though the...insides of Willow's head in order to get something I needed for the Cerno. Literally, the insides.
And, also? Well, I saw Will again. Nothing like coming face to face with something to really make you come to terms.
Glory, on the other hand, is a different story. And what she did to me is an even more different story. She took control of me. Took away everything in me that was mine, and made me into something that was...not me. Something that did things I would never do. And I had to watch it all, from some far off corner of my brain. It was like watching a movie whose reel had been cut into pieces and then put back together randomly, and upside down.
In the nightmares, she had me again. Nothing made sense, and I didn't know if I was seeing the moving pictures right, or if they were something else altogether. I tried to force my way out of the corner I was trapped in. Tried to force myself to speak, to make sense, but nothing ever came out that was coherent in the least.
I used to wake up from them and be afraid to talk, in case I didn't make sense. I didn't want to know if I was still dreaming.
Faith talked me down from them. Forced me to recognize her and remember that she wasn't here when Glory was, and that I couldn't possibly be all messed up again. She asked me question after question, starting with simple ones. As I answered each one, and heard my answers make sense, I relaxed.
Tonight, when I wake up screaming, I start to calm down when I see Faith barge into my room. But Spike is here, too, and my calm goes flying out the window. Am I awake? Because Spike was there when Glory was, and maybe I'm just confusing things all over again.
"Tara, you're awake," Faith tells me. She's trying to get me to look at her, but my eyes are locked on Spike, even as he's forced out of the room and has the door slammed in his face. "Look at me, babe. Come on, I need you to look at me."
Her hands are on my face, and she turns my head so that she's directly in my line of sight. "You're awake," she says again, her face determined. "And you're going to talk me. Who am I?"
I know who she is, but I don't know if what might come out of my mouth will be what I intend to say.
"Come on," she coaxes me, letting go of my face. "Tell me what my name is. I swear you'll get it right."
"Faith," I whisper. I get a little braver. "You're Faith."
"Who says you should ride the short bus?" she snickers, sitting next to me on the bed. "So I'm Faith, and you are...?"
"I'm Tara," I say quietly. I remember this. I know this. And I'm not going to let this hang on me for the next few hours, the way it used to. "Glory is dead and I'm sane."
A quick flash of relief slides across her face, and then her lips twist. "Yeah, well, that could be argued. Letting Mr. Pale Face suck your blood wasn't the sanest thing you've ever done. But, yeah, for the most part. Sane."
I take a deep breath and push some sweaty hair off my forehead. Grimacing, I sit up and push the light blanket off of me. I always wake up all sticky and icky from the nightmares. Maybe that should be my point of reference from now on. You know, to figure out whether I'm awake or not.
"I'm sorry. I thought they'd stopped. For good."
Faith shrugs diffidently. "You said Spike was going to bring up some stuff. Guess we know how it's gonna show itself."
She's...really sweet. Strange thing to say about Faith, I know. But it's true. When the nightmares were at their worst, she stayed by my side for hours so that I had someone to talk to. One time she even stood outside of the bathroom and talked to me while I showered, because I wasn't entirely convinced I was awake yet, and I needed to be able to talk with her constantly.
I reach out a hand, and she takes it a little haltingly. "Thank you," I tell her.
"Hey, no worries," she says sincerely. "You need me to camp out on the floor the next few nights?"
Did I mention she also slept in my room several times so that she could be on hand? Well, she did. And the only reason it was the floor is because Faith is a...violent sleeper. I think I almost preferred the nightmares to getting woken up by a Slayer-strength punch to my ribs. Almost. Thank goodness the angle was awkward, or else I might have been damaged.
"If you don't mind?" I say, and my words are quiet and small. It's a little embarrassing to be a grown woman and need someone to sleep on your floor. But if there's anything I've picked up from my visits to Dr. White, it's that I have to let the people around me know when I'm not doing well. Because they want to help me. I'm pretty lucky.
"Got that extra padded sleeping bag," she reminds me. "Now, go shower," Faith advises, slapping my leg. It's a light slap, but considering she's the Slayer, but it still stings. "Then we can fill you in."
I suddenly notice the bruise on Faith's forehead, and I slide my legs off the bed. I miss a lot by keeping normal hours. "I'll be quick."
***
On my way downstairs, I absently turn the banister holiday lights off, a little startled that I keep forgetting it's the holiday season. Which should be impossible, given the inordinate amount of decorations in our small apartment, but things are a little...busy at the moment.
Faith and Spike are sitting at the opposite heads of the table, her with a plate of food and him with two mugs of blood. I get myself some juice and sit between them, noticing that the last of the cuts and bruising on Spike's face are gone.
"More vamps?" I guess, and they nod.
"Ambushed me over by Pleasant Acres," she complains. "Fifteen of them. Dusted the ones I could, then had to hightail it out of there." Her face twists disgustedly. She takes her Slaying seriously, and combined with her natural competitive edge, she hates letting any get away. Puts her in a foul mood. "I'm fucking over the novelty of vamps just popping out of thin air, by the way."
"Hm," I murmur, smiling at her sympathetically.
I turn to Spike and he shrugs. "Heard the same things Faith did," he says flatly. "Some git or other wants the Hellmouth. Also found out that the vamps are coming from all over."
"Didn't we know that?" Faith questions, finishing some pot roast and pushing her empty plate aside. "Non local vamps, is what I heard."
"Not just getting pulled from one spot," Spike explains. "I heard about nine, maybe ten different locations. Probably more than that."
"What the fuck," Faith groans. "The psycho practically has an unlimited supply of vamps, then."
"Also heard you're pissing him off." That's not very surprising. Faith has the stunning ability to...piss off a great many people and demons. Usually without even trying, bless her attitude. "Rumor's just started up that he wants to know how the bloody hell you walked away from ten without a scratch, and without leaving any survivors."
Faith rolls her eyes. "You're sitting next to the reason."
Spike snaps his head to the side and stares at me. "You dusted them?"
"Um, no," I say emphatically. "I leave that to Faith. I just..." I wiggle my fingers vaguely. "You know."
He raises a brow, infusing his face with something more than a little chiding. Oh. Yeah. I suppose he does know, since I did it to him. I duck my head and peer up at him through my hair, and his lips twitch.
"Just sometimes," I continue. "Basically, uh, when Faith lets me. Only when she lets me, actually."
"So, the bad guy's curious," she drawls. "That mean he's gonna come take a look for himself?" She pulls the plate back in front of her, and starts tapping her fork against the dish. The clanging noise isn't so bad now, but I know from experience it's going to get very annoying, very fast. She tends to fidget with things when she's nervous, and since we live on the Hellmouth, I've gotten to see her nervous on several occasions.
"Dunno for sure," Spike replies. "Seems likely, though."
"Any hints about who...or what is behind it?" I ask hopefully. To my disappointment, Spike shakes his head. "Anything else we can do tonight?"
Both Spike and Faith shake their heads this time. The poor plate is still getting abused by Faith's fork and I think I might start twitching in time with the sounds. "We should get some sleep, then."
Faith pushes her chair back and stands up, the fork making a loud clatter as she drops it. "I'm taking a shower first. Vamp grime."
My eyes settle on her bruised forehead. "Any other damage?"
"I'm a little tougher than that, Ta," she says wryly. "I'll vamp proof my room."
She heads upstairs and Spike looks at me curiously. "You're staying in Faith's room tonight," I tell him.
"And where's Faith staying?" His voice is a little too...well, it's weighed down with a tone that suggests he knows where Faith will be staying, and is sure something sexual will be happening.
I put my best scowl in place and direct it at him, but he just purses his lips and says nothing. "Hm. Faith's going to be staying with me. Just for tonight." I bite my lip and think about that. It would be too much to expect the nightmare to be a fluke. "I hope. Maybe not just tonight, though."
He leans back in the chair and his face sobers. "That happen often? The nightmares, I mean."
"Sometimes."
Reaching over, he tugs lightly on a lock of my wet hair, and his face gets soft and worried. "Thought you said you were doing well, pet?" he says gently.
"I am. Really," I add at his doubtful look. "Some things, um, take longer than others? Glory...messing with my head seems to be one of those things."
He flinches a little and looks way. "Suppose some things do take longer."
I scoot my chair closer to his and turn it so that my knees are pressed against the side of his thigh. The way he said that, it makes me wonder if he had a hard time being out and about in Sunnydale again. "How are you doing?"
"It's strange...wasn't so bad when I left. Guess the soul is--" He breaks off and his jaw clenches.
The soul is bringing up a whole different kind of pain. Regrets where there was once only soulless acceptance. I'm overcome with uncertainty all of a sudden. Should I have brought him home again? I stare at his face, and there's emotion there that was absent when I found him in that hovel. I think I did the right thing, but I guess we'll see.
"How's your stomach?" I gesture at his abdomen and he shrugs. "Let me see."
"You should head to bed."
"Show me some skin," I say seriously, but I'm teasing him and he notices. Spike always sees through my deadpan face to the teasing. He laughs a little and pulls up his shirt enough to show me the injury, which is absolutely getting better. I glance at the mugs on the table and realize both are empty; he must have finished them while we were talking with Faith. "Have some more. As much as you need."
He stares down at the cups, a troubled frown on his brow. "You shouldn't have gotten human blood. Not from Willie's."
"Oh. It's all right. We found out he gets his...stock from the blood bank. That's why it's fresh. He bribes one of the techs who take the donations."
Spike's eyes widen in what looks like reluctant amusement. "That lying tosser. Always swore up and down he--well, never mind."
I grin at him and get to my feet. I'm practically on top of him, our chairs were so close, and I lean down and hug him. He pulls me onto his lap, settling his face against my wet hair. "Like seeing you happy and cared for, pet. Suits you."
Smiling, I pull back and touch his cheek. "You should call Dawn."
Every muscle under me tenses, then he's lifting me off his lap and setting me on my feet. "So ends the conversation. Get some sleep."
Arguing will do me no good, I can just tell. I lean down again and kiss his cheek. "Good night."
***
I sleep in the next day. Well, in terms of me, anyway. At ten I get up and leave the nocturnal occupants of the apartment asleep. I take advantage of the solitary time to wrap Christmas gifts. Faith's were stashed in the linen closet, behind a stack of pink towels that she won't dare breach. She avoids anything she even suspects might be pink. I'm not really sure where the towels came from, actually. Giles doesn't strike me as a pink towel kind of person, and I know that neither Faith nor Spike would have brought them into the house.
Faith thinks their unexplained presence is a portent of evil, and that breaching the stack will unleash it. As such, it's my standard hiding spot. Josh and Olson's gifts were in the coat closet, since they never have any reason to dig through there. All of Dawn's have been wrapped for a while now and are up in my room in the bottom of my closet. I thought about bringing them downstairs once we put up the tree, but I never got around to it. Giles' were sent over last month, and he called last week to let me know he received them, but would not be opening them until Christmas.
There are a couple of gifts for Spike, too. Just things I thought he might appreciate, and that I kept on hand in case he did come back. Those are actually in my dresser, and since I didn't think to get them out before I came down, wrapping them will have to wait.
After the Christmas wrapping, I'm on my own and a little bit lost. It's just after two, and Faith doesn't usually wake up until four. I'm not sure what Spike's schedule is, but I'm thinking his body probably needs whatever rest it can get, and might just force him to stay asleep a bit longer.
I stare at the tree and think about the chocolate truffle torte I agreed to make for Christmas, and decide to do a run through of it. The ingredients are on hand, since Josh and I did our grocery shopping the day before Khentimentiu showed up.
I grin and I shuffle into the kitchen. Grocery shopping with Josh is a full day experience. First, there's the regular grocery store where Josh fills a small, handheld basket, and where I stock up on enough food for a family of five or a healthy Slayer; take your pick. Faith used to live on takeout and whatever she could find on hand at the 7-11, but I like cooking so I usually spend Sunday making food for the week. With the snacks that we are required to keep on hand for research sessions, and the multiple cases of bottled water that Faith goes through, my cart is always overflowing by the time I get to the checkout.
After that, we have to head to the expensive gourmet market for provisions for Olson, whose tastes are a bit more refined than most. Lastly, there's a trip to the health food store, where Josh gets everything he needs to make the horrifically noxious protein shakes he consumes daily.
So, I've got enough ingredients to make a practice torte, and that's how I decide to pass the time. I flip on the radio in the kitchen and start pulling out bowls and measuring cups. By the time I take the torte out of the oven, and remove the truffle icing from the refrigerator where I put it to cool, Spike and Faith are awake and moving around upstairs.
I put a container of chicken and rice in the microwave for Faith, who always wakes up with an appetite fit for an army of teenaged boys, and then start icing the torte. When Faith comes down the stairs, I'm just taking the chicken out. She grunts something at me that probably means, "Good morning, and thank you for the food, Tara!" but just sounds like, "Grrngh." She's not very verbal right after she wakes up, unless there's an adrenaline rush involved in the waking up.
Spike comes down a few minutes later, bare-chested and bed-headed. I let him get his own blood because I'm trying to sprinkle toasted hazelnuts on top of the torte so that there will be some on every slice.
"Is it Christmas yet?" Faith asks huskily, staring at the torte with total incomprehension.
I smile and reach across the counter to smooth a stuck-up portion of her hair down. "No, sweetie. Just wanted to make sure I could pull this off. For Christmas. Want some?"
Spike moves behind me and peers over my shoulder. "Is that chocolate?"
"Is it ever," I say with relish "About ten pounds of it, melted and reconstituted in various ways." I turn my head and look up at him. He's staring at the torte with greedy eyes, so I cut two slices of it. "Can you get plates?"
Faith declares her slice to be a mini-orgasm, and cuts herself another huge hunk of torte. My teeth hurt in sympathy. Spike makes do with one piece, but agrees wholeheartedly with Faith's assessment. Good to know I won't be serving garbage on Christmas.
"Feel like patrolling?" Faith asks Spike.
He shrugs and goes to the refrigerator for blood. "Need the help?"
Faith frowns at him, and then looks at me in confusion. Spike never used to be anything less than eager for some violence. "I think we should all go," I propose. "You know, split up a little."
"You're not strolling around alone, babe," Faith says adamantly. She narrows her eyes and then tilts her head in Spike's direction. "Why don't you go with Spike? Show him what you've learned, huh?"
There are a great many reasons I love Faith, and this is one of them. Spike may not be up for violence, but we need another set of hands on patrol. Simple as that. By pairing me with him, she knows that he'll rouse himself from his funk to actually pay attention; even without the soul, Spike looked out for me. The hope I had yesterday that she would pull the attitude back a little has been fulfilled.
I smile widely at her, trying to let her know I appreciate her effort, and she shrugs with embarrassment. "I think that's a great idea. Spike?"
He pushes the microwave door closed with a little more force than is warranted when he takes his blood out, but his voice is steady. "Fine with me, luv."
The two of them head back upstairs to get ready. Spike needs a shirt, not to mention shoes, and Faith needs to do something with her sticky-outy hair. Ten minutes later, we're out of the house. Five minutes after that, we're parting ways at a street corner, Faith taking a right and Spike and I going straight.
I'm armed with a crossbow, because as horrible as I am with the stakes, I'm pretty good with the crossbow. It's some kind of automatic deal that reloads the arrows for me. Except, they're not really arrows. Faith and Olson rigged it with some kind of wood-tipped steel bolt things. Spike has a stake stashed in his waistband, and another in his boot. I've also got a stake, but it's mainly for back up. Desperate back up--because if a vamp gets close enough for me to have to use it? Well, I'm really in trouble. I also got into the habit of carrying a spare one for Faith, in case hers got dusted along with vamps.
I decide to take advantage of the Spike-Tara time. "Want to tell me?" I ask as we walk towards the first cemetery.
He sighs and out of the corner of my eye I see his shoulder lift in a shrug. "Not much to tell, really." He pauses, and I take a moment to marvel at the way he generally just knows what I'm talking about when I spring things on him like that. "Keepers were waiting for me in Cairo. Brought me to Khentimentiu, and the blighter didn't even wait for me to say anything before he handed me a slip of paper. Directions to some other godforsaken place on that nasty continent."
He looks down at me with a troubled and disgruntled frown and I raise a brow. "So have you rethought the Khentimentiu as Fate possibility, yet?"
"Rather trying to avoid that, actually," he says uncomfortably. "Went where the paper told me, got the soul." I nudge him with my elbow and there's another sigh. "Come on, now. You know how things like that work. Better than most, I'd imagine."
True enough. Gathering the objects for the Cerno was a series of trials, and I imagine Spike had his own trials in whatever hidden corner of Africa he was in. "Was it...really bad?"
"Not bad enough, now that I've thought about it." Tilting my head up, I meet his puzzled eyes as we turn a corner. "Feel like it was too easy, really."
I shrug philosophically. "Ours is not to reason why. How...how did it feel?"
The soul, not the torture, is what I meant. I'm about to clarify the question, but Spike is already answering. "Painful," he says in a hushed voice. "Lots of...a lot of things I was a little rusty with. Don't know that I'll get used to them, either."
"Course you will," I say confidently. "My Spike doesn't lay down for anything." I wait a beat, then add, "And I should know, because he turned me down once."
A wry chuckle comes from him and he reaches out to tug on my hair. "That was serious? Should have told me, luv. Would've jumped on...the chance."
I roll my eyes and start to reply, but a strange chirping noise emanates from the cell phone in my front pocket. The family plan came with a two-way feature that we don't normally use. "A little help here," Faith's voice calls out, muffled through the denim of my jeans.
Spike and I come to a sudden halt, and I snatch the phone out of my pocket. "Where?" I ask urgently.
"Oomp! Son of a bitch!"
"Faith!"
"Yeah, Craven Hills. South entrance...and hurry, would ya?"
Spike and I start moving at a fast clip. "What the hell is she doing there?" he growls. "Place is cold."
He means that the most recent burial was about forty years ago, and there aren't any mausoleums or tombs. Just graves. So there aren't really any hangouts for the vamps, and it's not usually on patrol routes. I don't answer him, because I obviously don't know what she's doing there. Also? Kind of trying to keep breathing here. My lung capacity really isn't where it should be for this type of running.
Six blocks and two turns later, I'm struggling to breathe as we reach Faith. She's just outside the old rusty gates that lead into the cemetery. My eyes widen at the same time that Spike curses in shock. There are something like thirty vamps around Faith. Spike shoves me back and rushes into the fray.
I look around and take up position to the side of the melee. In situations like these--with all the chaos--my standard approach doesn't apply. It's too difficult to focus my magic in such a crowd, and to make sure that the people on my side don't get caught in it. I take a deep breath and lift the crossbow, then target a vamp at the edge of the...skirmish. Taking a quick aim, I let the bolt fly and am sighting another vamp before the first's dust has fallen. Another bolt finishes sliding into place just in time for me to dust the second vamp.
It's not a quick process, but it forces me to stay calm, which is always good. I don't necessarily like that it requires all of my attention, because it means I don't know what's going on with Faith or Spike. But Faith always lets me know when she needs a hand, and I guess Spike will too.
I'm focusing on another target when two vampires notice me and break away from the rest. I stumble back and dust one with the newly loaded bolt while my left hand sketches the air. The other vampire blinks in surprise at the spontaneous light show I set off right in front of his sensitive eyes, and the pause is all the time I need for the next bolt to slide in place so that I press the trigger. Unfortunately, I hear an unwelcome clicking noise that signals the crossbow has jammed. Random jamming is the price to be paid for self-loading bolts, or so Olson claims.
Three more vampires are coming at me now, and I drop the crossbow to the ground because it's just useless unless the fight goes into a five-minute time-out so that I can fix it. Casting is out of the question at the moment, because they're moving too fast and I had to waste time dropping the weapon. Those extra seconds really count when you're dealing with creatures that have preternatural speed. Scooting back some more, I do what I've been instructed to do in situations like this.
"Faith!" I shout out.
One of the three vamps reaches me, and his fist is a blur as it comes at my face. Self-defense is all well and good, but it doesn't give me super human reflexes. Like Faith instructed, I lean into the punch since I can't block it, and then I go tumbling back and land painfully on the ground. I think the leaning in thing works better if the person hitting you isn't a hundred times stronger.
My cheek is throbbing as I scramble backwards. The three vampires are closing in on me, but then one of them explodes into dust, and I see Faith standing there for a second before she starts fighting with the remaining two. I cast and sketch, and Faith stakes them as they suddenly become still as statues.
She holds out a hand and helps me to my feet. "You good?" she asks, her eyes on the fight.
"Yes. Go."
She heads back into the mess and I scan the activity. There are about fifteen vamps left, in two groups. Faith is at the center of one, and Spike is at the center of the other.
"I'm fine," Faith shouts. And she is. Seven is manageable for her.
Spike is not so fine, even though eight is normally manageable for him. He was injured pretty badly, and as much of the surface stuff has gone away, it's obvious that his strength isn't completely back. They're crowded around him so tightly that he barely has any room to throw punches. A quick incantation later, the vamps are scattered back. That includes Spike, because the others were too close to him for me to keep him unaffected.
But it gives him some space, which was mainly what he needed. He spins quickly and stakes a vampire who was trying to sneak up on him, then moves to the left to rush at one that landed away from the rest. With the vamps no longer clumped around Spike, my options are less limited. I immobilized three, and glance over to see how Faith's doing. She's holding her own against the four that aren't yet dust, so I turn back to Spike.
The three vampires I immobilized have broken back into motion. I'd like to say I'm surprised, but I'm not. My casting was hasty and, consequently, slipshod. But it gave Spike enough time to take out another vampire, which is a very good thing. He skirts around a charging vamp, and heads for the three that have just begun moving.
I look at Faith again. She's down to one vampire, and it's a few feet away from her. I confuse it, and she takes it out, not pausing before rushing over to assist Spike. I watch the fight carefully, but don't anticipate having to cast anything else. The five remaining vamps are really no match for a Slayer and a souled vampire who--from what I can see--are both very, very angry.
Spike is just a whirlwind all of a sudden, like he's gotten an adrenaline rush. Maybe he has. Or maybe he just decided that having a soul doesn't mean he can't really like a good fight. As for Faith, the frustration and fear from being so outnumbered initially is being taken out on the last of the vampires. I'd feel bad for them, if they weren't bent on killing us, because she's just holding nothing back.
A couple of minutes after Faith joins Spike, the last vampire's dust crumbles to the ground. The two of them remain tense, and turn in a slow circle to search our surroundings. Faith looks worse for the wear; her jaw is starting to swell, and she's got one arm cradled across her ribs. Spike is rolling his shoulders and flinching at every motion. Me, I exhale a little shakily and notice that the left side of my face feels like it's on fire or something. I'd touch it, but I already know it'll be swollen and tender, and I see no reason to make the pain worse.
"You okay?" I hear Spike ask, and the next second he's standing in front of me, one hand at the back of my head to steady me so that he can poke at my cheek. So much for avoiding additional pain.
I hiss and flinch away, my hands shoving at his. "Ouch!"
"We seriously need to book it home," Faith says abruptly, stepping up behind him.
I pick up the jammed crossbow and Faith curls her lip at it and shakes her head in disgust. We hurry back to the apartment, Faith and Spike tense and alert the entire time. They set us up single file, though neither of them actually proposes this course of action; they just fall into position, Faith in the lead and Spike at the back. The only talking that's done is by Faith, who calls Olson and tersely tells him and Josh to come to our place. Other than that, we're silent because talking would be a distraction that we really don't need.
Personally, I'm going to wait until we're safely home before I even think about how many ways we could have all just died a few minutes ago. The thoughts will most likely be accompanied by some tears and a whole lot of shaking. Not really the shape I want to be in should another gaggle of vampires appear around us.
Olson's SUV pulls into a spot in front of the building not long after we get there, and we wait for him and Josh to join us. They each heft a box out of the back of the SUV, which I know from experience means that they've hauled the research books over here.
Thankfully, they don't ask us any questions until we get inside and close the door. At which point, my knees collapse from under me. I'm kept from landing on the floor in an ungainly heap by Spike, who gets to my side in a blur of color and catches me with one arm at my back, and another at my knees. Before I know what's happening, he's setting me on the sofa.
I've been a lot closer to death. Closer, in a "I'm about to die here's my last thoughts of everyone I've ever loved" kind of way, I mean. There was two months ago, for example, when a Belpor demon was about a second away from carving my heart out of my chest with its claws, until Faith snapped its neck. I'm a lot more shaken right now than I was then. Why? Because Faith and Spike were that close. There are only two thoughts going through my head right now: we're so very lucky, and thank goodness they're alive.
"Tara!" I blink and see Olson leaning over me, a small glass of juice in his hand and a concerned frown marring his brow. I guess I zoned out and lost a few minutes to my shock. Olson lifts my hand and wraps it around the glass, not letting go of it entirely until he's sure I've got it. "Drink this. It'll help."
I frown down at the glass. The juice is sloshing around, and it takes me a second to realize that it's because my hands are shaking. Wait, no. Not just my hands. I knew there'd be shaking involved. Olson places his hand on mine and steadies the glass, gentle pressure raising it to my lips and tilting it back so that I can take a sip.
I give him a smile, but it feels a little...plastic. I feel plastic right about now, actually. Kind of like I've drawn away from my skin and my entire body has gone numb, the way your arm does when you fall asleep with it over your head.
When I bring the glass back to my mouth of my own accord, Olson removes his hand again moves away. The sloshing has decreased, which I take as a good sign.
"Oh, honey," Josh whispers, sitting next to me. He takes the thrown blanket from the sofa back and wraps it around me. "It's all right. You're home and safe now." My eyes seek out Faith and Spike, and I see them sitting at the table with grim expressions on their faces. Josh notices the direction of my gaze and gives me a hug. "All of us are safe, Ta," he assures me.
The hug is what does me in, and the tears come. It's the kind of crying that comes with shock, meaning it's silent and just not enough. Not enough of a release for what brought it on. Josh takes the glass away, because I'm spilling juice everywhere, and holds me tightly.
"They could have died," I murmur. "There were so many. Too many."
"Shh, it's all right."
When I'm done crying, I stay where I am. Comfort is a really good thing at times like these. I listen with half an ear as Faith and Spike tell Olson what happened, but I don't come to attention until Faith says, "There was another vamp there." Her voice is tight and uneasy. "Felt weird, and I couldn't pin down where he was."
"I sensed him, too," Spike admits tersely, his jaw clenched.
"First aid kits," I say lowly, staring to stand up. "They need--"
"Sit down," Josh says firmly, tugging me back onto the sofa. "I'll take care of it. You just...get your bearings, all right?"
I nod and sink back on the sofa, a little relieved that he's going to patch them up. As much as I'd like the distraction of something to do right about now, I think tending to them would just open the floodgates again.
Spike catches my eye. "How are you doing, pet?"
"Better. I'm sorry for...I just...um. I didn't mean to...." I stare down at my blanket-covered lap and wonder if I'll ever be able to take these things in stride the way the others do, instead of letting everything affect me so strongly.
"I need to fix you up," I hear Josh say, and I glance up to see Spike brushing him away and staring at me.
The sharp plains and angles of his face are soft, and his eyes are dark and deep. More like Caribbean water than a sky, now. "Don't you dare apologize," he orders me harshly. I hear the other voices and movements in the room stop. If I were to look away from Spike, I'm sure I'd find everyone staring at us.
He shakes his head, something like astonishment settling over his features. "Stuff you've come through?" he says quietly. "Should have sucked you dry. But it didn't, and you shouldn't ever wish it had. Hear me?"
He's right. I'm so incredibly fortunate to be how and where I am right now. What Spike doesn't realize, as he looks up at me with something akin to wonder, is that I owe a lot of my good fortune to him.
"I hear you," I assure him. " But...could I maybe wish for a vibe?" He frowns in confusion. "You know," I say clarify. "A badass, don't-mess-with- me vibe. I'd still be all squishy inside, but on the outside--hey, I'll cut you."
I fix him with my most menacing glare and raise a threatening fist. He lowers his head, but not before I see his lips twitch. "I think I'd like that," I continue with a nod and his shoulders start shaking. "I'd be the scariest thing in a long print skirt." Choked noises are coming from him, and I turn my head and smile sedately at the others. They're gaping at me. "Grrr," I growl in a soft voice, and Spike can't hold his laughter back anymore.
Faith frowns at Olson. "She is joking, right?"
"I believe so," he says through his own laughter, and Faith starts chuckling.
I frown delicately. "I was being serious," I tell them, and they're back to gaping at me.
Spike had stopped laughing, but he starts up again, and raises his face to address the others. His eyes are sparkling as he says, "Bunch of fools, the lot of you. Of course she's bloody well joking."
My frown deepens. "No I'm not." Spike arches a brow at me and purses his lip. I stare back at him, but I can only keep the frown in place for a couple of seconds before I break out into a wide smile. "Well, maybe a little," I concede.
With another chuckle, he waves Josh over again. "Right, then. Fix me up," he tells Josh, who shakes his head in confusion, but opens the first aid kit.
"You're a dork," Faith snickers at me, and I smile. Sighing, I tuck my legs under me on the sofa, then pull the blanket tighter around me.
"Considering what you told me last night, Spike," Olson says into the slightly more relaxed air, "I think the vampire you two sensed might be the one behind this."
The tension returns again, but lesser now, which is good. Faith reaches for a glass on the table, and downs half its contents. From the shudder she issues, I think Olson insisted she imbibe some of the brandy he stashed here a while ago. Olson slips into the kitchen and returns with our second first aid kit, then pulls up a chair next to Faith. Her eyes flicker, and I think she's going to argue with him about getting patched up, but she sighs tiredly and lets him do what he needs to do.
Josh is having only a little more luck with Spike, who is insisting that he doesn't need "any bloody fucking stitches."
"You put them in," Spike snaps, staring at the suturing thread in Josh's hand, "and they'll be grown over by morning. And you're supposed to be the smart one?" Hm. Perhaps he really did pick up on my PowerPuff Girls metaphor.
"Goddamn it," Josh snaps right back at him. He gestures at Spike's forearm. "You're cut right down to the bone. What do you expect me to do here?"
"Chill out, already," Faith says loudly. "Just stick some of those butterfly bandages on him. Same as you do with me."
"Oh," Josh says, blinking. "Yeah, I can do that."
He isn't normally so, um, well flaky. Really. We knew what we were doing when we sent him off, instead of any of us going ourselves, to get paramedic training. He knows better than stitching Spike, and he's used those butterfly bandages on Faith enough times that they should be what he reaches for before sutures. But I think he's as unsettled as the rest of us are by what could have happened tonight.
And speaking of what could have happened tonight, I really need something to do right about now. I take a breath and wrestle myself out from the blanket, then make my way into the kitchen to heat up some blood for Spike.
"So, we think it's a vamp, then? Behind all of this?" Josh asks a couple of the room at large a couple of minutes later, while he squeezes the sides of the gash together and settles a bandage over it. Noises of ascent follow the question, and I take two mugs out of the microwave.
Olson looks up. "I remember reading something in the Watchers Journals," he says thoughtfully. "A particularly nasty vampire with mystical abilities that could be similar to what we've seen. If I recall correctly, the Slayer who encountered him also said the feel of him was...'off'. Josh?"
I set the blood on the table in front of Spike, and he flashes me a quick smile. Then, Josh is pushing me at Spike's arm, mumbling something about taking over for him. I pick up where he left off and put a fourth bandage on Spike's cut. It's going to need two more due to its length.
Faith and Olson are having a quiet conversation as he pokes and prods at her ribs, and I raise my brow at Spike when I see him narrowing his eyes on them. "Don't eavesdrop. Drink your blood."
A long-suffering look of annoyance comes to his face, but he picks up the blood. And I'm not sure, but I think I see a glimmer of indulgence in his eyes. Interesting.
"Found the reference," Josh exclaims. I set the last bandage on Spike and pat his arm gently, then face Josh. He's sitting on the floor by the door, next to the two boxes he and Olson brought over. He's got his long container of indexed cards between his legs, and is staring at one of them.
Faith pushes Olson aside and gets to her feet. "What do we know?" she asks quickly.
Josh flips the card over and curses. "Jack shit," he says succinctly. "It's from the Watcher Journals I indexed before Mr. High and Mighty took them back."
Giles left only some of the more recent Journals behind for good, and brought the rest back to England with him the last time he visited. Olson rubs a hand across his face and walks slowly to the sofa, collapsing onto it. "I could really do without navigating the touchiness that is Rupert Giles at the moment," he mutters. "Could you get me the phone, Faith?"
I stay her with a shake of my head, then get the cordless phone. Instead of handing it to Olson, I sit at the table and dial. Olson makes an impatient noise. "Tara, there's no need for you to--"
"Yeah, there is," Faith interrupts him harshly. "You and Giles on the phone? I've heard it before, Olson. There'll be civilized but resentful chitchat, followed by an awkward request for help, then an argument. Giles won't call us back for a day, and we don't need to be wasting a day." She nods at me. "Call him."
"It's gotten better," Olson argues.
Josh snorts. "Barely."
I finish dialing, and tune out the conversation that follows, which begins with Spike asking if Giles still has his knickers in a twist. He kind of does, but it's understandable. Overall, the Giles situation is...tense. Although from what Olson has told me, it's less tense than it was before Faith read Giles the riot act during the mess with the Cerno.
I think she gave him a lot to think about when she told him he had to trust us or back off. It's hard to say if he'll ever come to terms with Faith and the rest of us being here, instead of Buffy and her group. But he is trying. He hasn't made any random visits since then, and his phone calls come weekly now, instead of daily.
With a start, I realize that Giles has answered the phone, and by the impatient tone to his greeting, I think he's said it a couple of times. "Oh. Hi. It's Tara."
"Well, hello," he says, surprised. "How are you?"
"Good. I'm, uh, good. And you?"
He chuckles wryly. "I'm good as well. Considering that I'm due to call tomorrow, am I safe in assuming this isn't a social call?"
"It's business," I admit. "We think--well, there's this vampire? And we think he's someone from one of the Journals you left here for a while. We found a reference from when Josh indexed them?" I look up and motion at Josh, and he brings me the card.
"I see," Giles murmurs. "Yes, well, let me get a pen...here we are. What do you have?"
I glance at the card and give Giles the citation that's scrawled across the back. "Oh my," Giles says quietly. "I believe I remember what you're referring to. Sketchily at best," he adds with a sigh. "What makes you think this vampire is the one responsible?"
As best I can, I summarize what we've come up against in the past couple of days. I bite my lip and decide not to mention Spike at the moment. Mainly because I haven't asked if it's all right to tell Giles.
"I'll leave for the Council stacks immediately," Giles says tiredly. "In the meantime, have you considered a sensing spell?"
"What do you mean?" I frown and mime writing something down at Faith. She interprets the gesture and gets me a pen and a pad from the desk in the corner.
"A spell to...give you warning of imminent magical use. It should at least lessen the element of surprise. There are several that I know of," he continues. "But the most reliable is in the Greigh."
The Greigh is a hefty spell book whose contents are mostly out of my league. "Um, that's probably not an option, then."
"It's one of the simpler spells," he hurries to assure me. "I know there's a copy of it at the Magic Box. Look for the Evigilo. I believe it should be manageable for you to cast."
I scribble down that, and the rest of what he tells me about the spell, and then we hang up with a soft, "Do be careful" from Giles' end of the line.
"The Greigh?" Olson comments, coming up behind me and peering over my shoulder before taking a seat beside me. "One of the few books we didn't bring over."
"Hm, well we can get it during the day," I say absently, pondering all that Giles told me. "Giles was heading over to look through the Journals. He said he'll call when he has something for us."
"What did he recommend?"
Olson's voice is casual, but it's not a pretense. Giles can, at times, be difficult for Olson to deal with, but Olson is well aware that we're fortunate to have someone with Giles' knowledge and resources at our disposal.
"Some kind of early warning detection spell," I reply. "To gives us...a heads up? For the appearing vamps. I won't know if I can do it until I take a look at it, though."
Olson nods, then looks around the room, his eyes zeroing in on Faith, who is now sitting on the stairs. "You're in for the evening," he says firmly. Her ready acceptance of this is all the proof we're likely to get that the thirty-on-one odds made her nervous earlier. "If Tara can perform this spell, then we'll all be patrolling tomorrow."
Faith straightens up. "The fuck you will," she snaps. "Not unless that spell gives you Slayer powers."
"Yes we will," Olson counters, his tone steely. "Tara has been helpful twice already, and if things continue the way they have been, you and Spike could use two more sets of hands."
"He's right, Slayer," Spike says curtly. "I'm not in top condition by a long shot."
Hands tangled in her hair, Faith dips her head for a moment. I see her take in a deep breath, then she looks up and nods. "All right. Fine."
Olson glances at Josh, his face tight. "I want you in a residence after dark. You are not to be in the Magic Box or on your way somewhere when the sun sets." Almost as an afterthought, he looks at me. "You as well."
"You two are staying here tonight," Faith orders Olson and Josh.
"Where the hell are we supposed to sleep?" Josh asks caustically.
Spike smirks around his mug. "Bathtub's comfy, from what I remember."
Josh gives him the finger and then pulls himself to his feet, making his way to Olson and sitting beside him. I look at the pair of them. "You can stay in Faith's room. Spike, that means you'll need to take the sofa. Is that all right?"
He nods his agreement, and reaches for the second mug. I take the empty into the kitchen and prepare another helping of blood.
"Been a while since we had a slumber party," Josh notes. "Who's up for giving me a pedicure?"
***
We bunk down a few hours later, at a time that's unnaturally early for a crisis period. By ten o'clock, the lights are off and we've all had our turn to shower. I'm setting Spike up with spare blankets and pillows in the living room, and he stops my fussing over the sofa by taking hold of my wrists.
"Should get some sleep. Been a rough night," he tells me.
I look around and sigh. "I...I don't like leaving you down here alone," I confess. "Maybe you could stay upstairs? With the rest of us?"
He rolls his eyes. "I'll be fine. Besides, where would I sleep?" he questions archly. "Not really interested in being that up close and personal to Josh and Olson's...cuddling." He smirks and my lips twist. "And I'm damn well not crashing on the floor next to Faith, that's for sure. I'd wake up in worse shape than I'm already in, what with her flailing limbs."
"How do you know about her flailing limbs?" I ask him, twitching a brow.
A finger taps my nose. "Gutter mind. Seen her sacked out on the sofa more than a few times."
I open my mouth, then close it abruptly. Spike's eyes soften and he nods in approval and understanding. I had been about to ask him if he'd be willing to share my bed, because we've shared before. But the thing is, when we shared before? It seemed like comfort at the time, but with hindsight it was more like hiding away from what we needed to be facing.
"Let me know if you need anything," I tell him, and make my way upstairs.
Faith is already strewn across the sleeping bag on my floor, lying on her stomach with her arms and legs stretched out in every direction. Her eyes are open, but tired. The fight was hard and even though there are hours until her normal bedtime, I'm surprised she's still awake.
I click the light off and slip into bed. The adrenaline rush from earlier is well and truly gone, and within fifteen minutes I'm asleep. Sometime during the night I wake up, not sure why. My eyes automatically go to the mirror above my dresser, in case Khentimentiu has dropped by. All I see is the reflection of my room, so I look around. Faith is sitting up in the sleeping bag. I can't see her face, but it seems like she's staring at me.
"Everything all right?" I ask her, sitting up a bit.
"Yeah," she grunts. "It's just...don't do that again."
I tilt my head to the side. Her voice is clipped, but it sometimes gets like that when she's upset about something, and not just when she's angry. "Do what?"
"You were a fucking mile away. Thought those vamps were gonna do you in."
Mile away? Vamps? Oh. Oh, my. With the Belpor demon? It tackled me to the ground and raised its claw suddenly, but Faith was only a foot or so away at the time. For her, I guess, I was closer to death tonight when those three vampires came after me, because she was a good fifteen feet away and fighting off a mob.
"I won't do that again," I promise her softly. It's not really a promise, though, because it's out of my control. But it's an assurance of sorts, and it's the best I can offer. "Do you want to come up here?"
I see the shadows flicker as she shakes her head. "Nah. I'm good." She settles back down again. "Night."
"Night."
***
I put a lot of stuff aside and didn't deal with it for a long time after Willow and the others died. Once I finally decided to stop avoiding it all, my subconscious went into overtime trying to make up for lost coping time. The result? Nightmares. Really bad ones. They kind of followed me into the waking world for a while, so that I'd get shaken awake by Faith--who was drawn by the sound of my screams--and not be able to determine what was real and what wasn't.
They were about Glory, the nightmares. I used to think that was very strange. Because I would have thought that...that me killing Willow? I would have thought that would be my nightmare material. But, when I thought about it, I realized that I've done all the dealing I can about Willow. Mostly that's due to the crone in Berlin, who made me relive the memory, and the pit in Paris, where I had to wade through...well, though the...insides of Willow's head in order to get something I needed for the Cerno. Literally, the insides.
And, also? Well, I saw Will again. Nothing like coming face to face with something to really make you come to terms.
Glory, on the other hand, is a different story. And what she did to me is an even more different story. She took control of me. Took away everything in me that was mine, and made me into something that was...not me. Something that did things I would never do. And I had to watch it all, from some far off corner of my brain. It was like watching a movie whose reel had been cut into pieces and then put back together randomly, and upside down.
In the nightmares, she had me again. Nothing made sense, and I didn't know if I was seeing the moving pictures right, or if they were something else altogether. I tried to force my way out of the corner I was trapped in. Tried to force myself to speak, to make sense, but nothing ever came out that was coherent in the least.
I used to wake up from them and be afraid to talk, in case I didn't make sense. I didn't want to know if I was still dreaming.
Faith talked me down from them. Forced me to recognize her and remember that she wasn't here when Glory was, and that I couldn't possibly be all messed up again. She asked me question after question, starting with simple ones. As I answered each one, and heard my answers make sense, I relaxed.
Tonight, when I wake up screaming, I start to calm down when I see Faith barge into my room. But Spike is here, too, and my calm goes flying out the window. Am I awake? Because Spike was there when Glory was, and maybe I'm just confusing things all over again.
"Tara, you're awake," Faith tells me. She's trying to get me to look at her, but my eyes are locked on Spike, even as he's forced out of the room and has the door slammed in his face. "Look at me, babe. Come on, I need you to look at me."
Her hands are on my face, and she turns my head so that she's directly in my line of sight. "You're awake," she says again, her face determined. "And you're going to talk me. Who am I?"
I know who she is, but I don't know if what might come out of my mouth will be what I intend to say.
"Come on," she coaxes me, letting go of my face. "Tell me what my name is. I swear you'll get it right."
"Faith," I whisper. I get a little braver. "You're Faith."
"Who says you should ride the short bus?" she snickers, sitting next to me on the bed. "So I'm Faith, and you are...?"
"I'm Tara," I say quietly. I remember this. I know this. And I'm not going to let this hang on me for the next few hours, the way it used to. "Glory is dead and I'm sane."
A quick flash of relief slides across her face, and then her lips twist. "Yeah, well, that could be argued. Letting Mr. Pale Face suck your blood wasn't the sanest thing you've ever done. But, yeah, for the most part. Sane."
I take a deep breath and push some sweaty hair off my forehead. Grimacing, I sit up and push the light blanket off of me. I always wake up all sticky and icky from the nightmares. Maybe that should be my point of reference from now on. You know, to figure out whether I'm awake or not.
"I'm sorry. I thought they'd stopped. For good."
Faith shrugs diffidently. "You said Spike was going to bring up some stuff. Guess we know how it's gonna show itself."
She's...really sweet. Strange thing to say about Faith, I know. But it's true. When the nightmares were at their worst, she stayed by my side for hours so that I had someone to talk to. One time she even stood outside of the bathroom and talked to me while I showered, because I wasn't entirely convinced I was awake yet, and I needed to be able to talk with her constantly.
I reach out a hand, and she takes it a little haltingly. "Thank you," I tell her.
"Hey, no worries," she says sincerely. "You need me to camp out on the floor the next few nights?"
Did I mention she also slept in my room several times so that she could be on hand? Well, she did. And the only reason it was the floor is because Faith is a...violent sleeper. I think I almost preferred the nightmares to getting woken up by a Slayer-strength punch to my ribs. Almost. Thank goodness the angle was awkward, or else I might have been damaged.
"If you don't mind?" I say, and my words are quiet and small. It's a little embarrassing to be a grown woman and need someone to sleep on your floor. But if there's anything I've picked up from my visits to Dr. White, it's that I have to let the people around me know when I'm not doing well. Because they want to help me. I'm pretty lucky.
"Got that extra padded sleeping bag," she reminds me. "Now, go shower," Faith advises, slapping my leg. It's a light slap, but considering she's the Slayer, but it still stings. "Then we can fill you in."
I suddenly notice the bruise on Faith's forehead, and I slide my legs off the bed. I miss a lot by keeping normal hours. "I'll be quick."
***
On my way downstairs, I absently turn the banister holiday lights off, a little startled that I keep forgetting it's the holiday season. Which should be impossible, given the inordinate amount of decorations in our small apartment, but things are a little...busy at the moment.
Faith and Spike are sitting at the opposite heads of the table, her with a plate of food and him with two mugs of blood. I get myself some juice and sit between them, noticing that the last of the cuts and bruising on Spike's face are gone.
"More vamps?" I guess, and they nod.
"Ambushed me over by Pleasant Acres," she complains. "Fifteen of them. Dusted the ones I could, then had to hightail it out of there." Her face twists disgustedly. She takes her Slaying seriously, and combined with her natural competitive edge, she hates letting any get away. Puts her in a foul mood. "I'm fucking over the novelty of vamps just popping out of thin air, by the way."
"Hm," I murmur, smiling at her sympathetically.
I turn to Spike and he shrugs. "Heard the same things Faith did," he says flatly. "Some git or other wants the Hellmouth. Also found out that the vamps are coming from all over."
"Didn't we know that?" Faith questions, finishing some pot roast and pushing her empty plate aside. "Non local vamps, is what I heard."
"Not just getting pulled from one spot," Spike explains. "I heard about nine, maybe ten different locations. Probably more than that."
"What the fuck," Faith groans. "The psycho practically has an unlimited supply of vamps, then."
"Also heard you're pissing him off." That's not very surprising. Faith has the stunning ability to...piss off a great many people and demons. Usually without even trying, bless her attitude. "Rumor's just started up that he wants to know how the bloody hell you walked away from ten without a scratch, and without leaving any survivors."
Faith rolls her eyes. "You're sitting next to the reason."
Spike snaps his head to the side and stares at me. "You dusted them?"
"Um, no," I say emphatically. "I leave that to Faith. I just..." I wiggle my fingers vaguely. "You know."
He raises a brow, infusing his face with something more than a little chiding. Oh. Yeah. I suppose he does know, since I did it to him. I duck my head and peer up at him through my hair, and his lips twitch.
"Just sometimes," I continue. "Basically, uh, when Faith lets me. Only when she lets me, actually."
"So, the bad guy's curious," she drawls. "That mean he's gonna come take a look for himself?" She pulls the plate back in front of her, and starts tapping her fork against the dish. The clanging noise isn't so bad now, but I know from experience it's going to get very annoying, very fast. She tends to fidget with things when she's nervous, and since we live on the Hellmouth, I've gotten to see her nervous on several occasions.
"Dunno for sure," Spike replies. "Seems likely, though."
"Any hints about who...or what is behind it?" I ask hopefully. To my disappointment, Spike shakes his head. "Anything else we can do tonight?"
Both Spike and Faith shake their heads this time. The poor plate is still getting abused by Faith's fork and I think I might start twitching in time with the sounds. "We should get some sleep, then."
Faith pushes her chair back and stands up, the fork making a loud clatter as she drops it. "I'm taking a shower first. Vamp grime."
My eyes settle on her bruised forehead. "Any other damage?"
"I'm a little tougher than that, Ta," she says wryly. "I'll vamp proof my room."
She heads upstairs and Spike looks at me curiously. "You're staying in Faith's room tonight," I tell him.
"And where's Faith staying?" His voice is a little too...well, it's weighed down with a tone that suggests he knows where Faith will be staying, and is sure something sexual will be happening.
I put my best scowl in place and direct it at him, but he just purses his lips and says nothing. "Hm. Faith's going to be staying with me. Just for tonight." I bite my lip and think about that. It would be too much to expect the nightmare to be a fluke. "I hope. Maybe not just tonight, though."
He leans back in the chair and his face sobers. "That happen often? The nightmares, I mean."
"Sometimes."
Reaching over, he tugs lightly on a lock of my wet hair, and his face gets soft and worried. "Thought you said you were doing well, pet?" he says gently.
"I am. Really," I add at his doubtful look. "Some things, um, take longer than others? Glory...messing with my head seems to be one of those things."
He flinches a little and looks way. "Suppose some things do take longer."
I scoot my chair closer to his and turn it so that my knees are pressed against the side of his thigh. The way he said that, it makes me wonder if he had a hard time being out and about in Sunnydale again. "How are you doing?"
"It's strange...wasn't so bad when I left. Guess the soul is--" He breaks off and his jaw clenches.
The soul is bringing up a whole different kind of pain. Regrets where there was once only soulless acceptance. I'm overcome with uncertainty all of a sudden. Should I have brought him home again? I stare at his face, and there's emotion there that was absent when I found him in that hovel. I think I did the right thing, but I guess we'll see.
"How's your stomach?" I gesture at his abdomen and he shrugs. "Let me see."
"You should head to bed."
"Show me some skin," I say seriously, but I'm teasing him and he notices. Spike always sees through my deadpan face to the teasing. He laughs a little and pulls up his shirt enough to show me the injury, which is absolutely getting better. I glance at the mugs on the table and realize both are empty; he must have finished them while we were talking with Faith. "Have some more. As much as you need."
He stares down at the cups, a troubled frown on his brow. "You shouldn't have gotten human blood. Not from Willie's."
"Oh. It's all right. We found out he gets his...stock from the blood bank. That's why it's fresh. He bribes one of the techs who take the donations."
Spike's eyes widen in what looks like reluctant amusement. "That lying tosser. Always swore up and down he--well, never mind."
I grin at him and get to my feet. I'm practically on top of him, our chairs were so close, and I lean down and hug him. He pulls me onto his lap, settling his face against my wet hair. "Like seeing you happy and cared for, pet. Suits you."
Smiling, I pull back and touch his cheek. "You should call Dawn."
Every muscle under me tenses, then he's lifting me off his lap and setting me on my feet. "So ends the conversation. Get some sleep."
Arguing will do me no good, I can just tell. I lean down again and kiss his cheek. "Good night."
***
I sleep in the next day. Well, in terms of me, anyway. At ten I get up and leave the nocturnal occupants of the apartment asleep. I take advantage of the solitary time to wrap Christmas gifts. Faith's were stashed in the linen closet, behind a stack of pink towels that she won't dare breach. She avoids anything she even suspects might be pink. I'm not really sure where the towels came from, actually. Giles doesn't strike me as a pink towel kind of person, and I know that neither Faith nor Spike would have brought them into the house.
Faith thinks their unexplained presence is a portent of evil, and that breaching the stack will unleash it. As such, it's my standard hiding spot. Josh and Olson's gifts were in the coat closet, since they never have any reason to dig through there. All of Dawn's have been wrapped for a while now and are up in my room in the bottom of my closet. I thought about bringing them downstairs once we put up the tree, but I never got around to it. Giles' were sent over last month, and he called last week to let me know he received them, but would not be opening them until Christmas.
There are a couple of gifts for Spike, too. Just things I thought he might appreciate, and that I kept on hand in case he did come back. Those are actually in my dresser, and since I didn't think to get them out before I came down, wrapping them will have to wait.
After the Christmas wrapping, I'm on my own and a little bit lost. It's just after two, and Faith doesn't usually wake up until four. I'm not sure what Spike's schedule is, but I'm thinking his body probably needs whatever rest it can get, and might just force him to stay asleep a bit longer.
I stare at the tree and think about the chocolate truffle torte I agreed to make for Christmas, and decide to do a run through of it. The ingredients are on hand, since Josh and I did our grocery shopping the day before Khentimentiu showed up.
I grin and I shuffle into the kitchen. Grocery shopping with Josh is a full day experience. First, there's the regular grocery store where Josh fills a small, handheld basket, and where I stock up on enough food for a family of five or a healthy Slayer; take your pick. Faith used to live on takeout and whatever she could find on hand at the 7-11, but I like cooking so I usually spend Sunday making food for the week. With the snacks that we are required to keep on hand for research sessions, and the multiple cases of bottled water that Faith goes through, my cart is always overflowing by the time I get to the checkout.
After that, we have to head to the expensive gourmet market for provisions for Olson, whose tastes are a bit more refined than most. Lastly, there's a trip to the health food store, where Josh gets everything he needs to make the horrifically noxious protein shakes he consumes daily.
So, I've got enough ingredients to make a practice torte, and that's how I decide to pass the time. I flip on the radio in the kitchen and start pulling out bowls and measuring cups. By the time I take the torte out of the oven, and remove the truffle icing from the refrigerator where I put it to cool, Spike and Faith are awake and moving around upstairs.
I put a container of chicken and rice in the microwave for Faith, who always wakes up with an appetite fit for an army of teenaged boys, and then start icing the torte. When Faith comes down the stairs, I'm just taking the chicken out. She grunts something at me that probably means, "Good morning, and thank you for the food, Tara!" but just sounds like, "Grrngh." She's not very verbal right after she wakes up, unless there's an adrenaline rush involved in the waking up.
Spike comes down a few minutes later, bare-chested and bed-headed. I let him get his own blood because I'm trying to sprinkle toasted hazelnuts on top of the torte so that there will be some on every slice.
"Is it Christmas yet?" Faith asks huskily, staring at the torte with total incomprehension.
I smile and reach across the counter to smooth a stuck-up portion of her hair down. "No, sweetie. Just wanted to make sure I could pull this off. For Christmas. Want some?"
Spike moves behind me and peers over my shoulder. "Is that chocolate?"
"Is it ever," I say with relish "About ten pounds of it, melted and reconstituted in various ways." I turn my head and look up at him. He's staring at the torte with greedy eyes, so I cut two slices of it. "Can you get plates?"
Faith declares her slice to be a mini-orgasm, and cuts herself another huge hunk of torte. My teeth hurt in sympathy. Spike makes do with one piece, but agrees wholeheartedly with Faith's assessment. Good to know I won't be serving garbage on Christmas.
"Feel like patrolling?" Faith asks Spike.
He shrugs and goes to the refrigerator for blood. "Need the help?"
Faith frowns at him, and then looks at me in confusion. Spike never used to be anything less than eager for some violence. "I think we should all go," I propose. "You know, split up a little."
"You're not strolling around alone, babe," Faith says adamantly. She narrows her eyes and then tilts her head in Spike's direction. "Why don't you go with Spike? Show him what you've learned, huh?"
There are a great many reasons I love Faith, and this is one of them. Spike may not be up for violence, but we need another set of hands on patrol. Simple as that. By pairing me with him, she knows that he'll rouse himself from his funk to actually pay attention; even without the soul, Spike looked out for me. The hope I had yesterday that she would pull the attitude back a little has been fulfilled.
I smile widely at her, trying to let her know I appreciate her effort, and she shrugs with embarrassment. "I think that's a great idea. Spike?"
He pushes the microwave door closed with a little more force than is warranted when he takes his blood out, but his voice is steady. "Fine with me, luv."
The two of them head back upstairs to get ready. Spike needs a shirt, not to mention shoes, and Faith needs to do something with her sticky-outy hair. Ten minutes later, we're out of the house. Five minutes after that, we're parting ways at a street corner, Faith taking a right and Spike and I going straight.
I'm armed with a crossbow, because as horrible as I am with the stakes, I'm pretty good with the crossbow. It's some kind of automatic deal that reloads the arrows for me. Except, they're not really arrows. Faith and Olson rigged it with some kind of wood-tipped steel bolt things. Spike has a stake stashed in his waistband, and another in his boot. I've also got a stake, but it's mainly for back up. Desperate back up--because if a vamp gets close enough for me to have to use it? Well, I'm really in trouble. I also got into the habit of carrying a spare one for Faith, in case hers got dusted along with vamps.
I decide to take advantage of the Spike-Tara time. "Want to tell me?" I ask as we walk towards the first cemetery.
He sighs and out of the corner of my eye I see his shoulder lift in a shrug. "Not much to tell, really." He pauses, and I take a moment to marvel at the way he generally just knows what I'm talking about when I spring things on him like that. "Keepers were waiting for me in Cairo. Brought me to Khentimentiu, and the blighter didn't even wait for me to say anything before he handed me a slip of paper. Directions to some other godforsaken place on that nasty continent."
He looks down at me with a troubled and disgruntled frown and I raise a brow. "So have you rethought the Khentimentiu as Fate possibility, yet?"
"Rather trying to avoid that, actually," he says uncomfortably. "Went where the paper told me, got the soul." I nudge him with my elbow and there's another sigh. "Come on, now. You know how things like that work. Better than most, I'd imagine."
True enough. Gathering the objects for the Cerno was a series of trials, and I imagine Spike had his own trials in whatever hidden corner of Africa he was in. "Was it...really bad?"
"Not bad enough, now that I've thought about it." Tilting my head up, I meet his puzzled eyes as we turn a corner. "Feel like it was too easy, really."
I shrug philosophically. "Ours is not to reason why. How...how did it feel?"
The soul, not the torture, is what I meant. I'm about to clarify the question, but Spike is already answering. "Painful," he says in a hushed voice. "Lots of...a lot of things I was a little rusty with. Don't know that I'll get used to them, either."
"Course you will," I say confidently. "My Spike doesn't lay down for anything." I wait a beat, then add, "And I should know, because he turned me down once."
A wry chuckle comes from him and he reaches out to tug on my hair. "That was serious? Should have told me, luv. Would've jumped on...the chance."
I roll my eyes and start to reply, but a strange chirping noise emanates from the cell phone in my front pocket. The family plan came with a two-way feature that we don't normally use. "A little help here," Faith's voice calls out, muffled through the denim of my jeans.
Spike and I come to a sudden halt, and I snatch the phone out of my pocket. "Where?" I ask urgently.
"Oomp! Son of a bitch!"
"Faith!"
"Yeah, Craven Hills. South entrance...and hurry, would ya?"
Spike and I start moving at a fast clip. "What the hell is she doing there?" he growls. "Place is cold."
He means that the most recent burial was about forty years ago, and there aren't any mausoleums or tombs. Just graves. So there aren't really any hangouts for the vamps, and it's not usually on patrol routes. I don't answer him, because I obviously don't know what she's doing there. Also? Kind of trying to keep breathing here. My lung capacity really isn't where it should be for this type of running.
Six blocks and two turns later, I'm struggling to breathe as we reach Faith. She's just outside the old rusty gates that lead into the cemetery. My eyes widen at the same time that Spike curses in shock. There are something like thirty vamps around Faith. Spike shoves me back and rushes into the fray.
I look around and take up position to the side of the melee. In situations like these--with all the chaos--my standard approach doesn't apply. It's too difficult to focus my magic in such a crowd, and to make sure that the people on my side don't get caught in it. I take a deep breath and lift the crossbow, then target a vamp at the edge of the...skirmish. Taking a quick aim, I let the bolt fly and am sighting another vamp before the first's dust has fallen. Another bolt finishes sliding into place just in time for me to dust the second vamp.
It's not a quick process, but it forces me to stay calm, which is always good. I don't necessarily like that it requires all of my attention, because it means I don't know what's going on with Faith or Spike. But Faith always lets me know when she needs a hand, and I guess Spike will too.
I'm focusing on another target when two vampires notice me and break away from the rest. I stumble back and dust one with the newly loaded bolt while my left hand sketches the air. The other vampire blinks in surprise at the spontaneous light show I set off right in front of his sensitive eyes, and the pause is all the time I need for the next bolt to slide in place so that I press the trigger. Unfortunately, I hear an unwelcome clicking noise that signals the crossbow has jammed. Random jamming is the price to be paid for self-loading bolts, or so Olson claims.
Three more vampires are coming at me now, and I drop the crossbow to the ground because it's just useless unless the fight goes into a five-minute time-out so that I can fix it. Casting is out of the question at the moment, because they're moving too fast and I had to waste time dropping the weapon. Those extra seconds really count when you're dealing with creatures that have preternatural speed. Scooting back some more, I do what I've been instructed to do in situations like this.
"Faith!" I shout out.
One of the three vamps reaches me, and his fist is a blur as it comes at my face. Self-defense is all well and good, but it doesn't give me super human reflexes. Like Faith instructed, I lean into the punch since I can't block it, and then I go tumbling back and land painfully on the ground. I think the leaning in thing works better if the person hitting you isn't a hundred times stronger.
My cheek is throbbing as I scramble backwards. The three vampires are closing in on me, but then one of them explodes into dust, and I see Faith standing there for a second before she starts fighting with the remaining two. I cast and sketch, and Faith stakes them as they suddenly become still as statues.
She holds out a hand and helps me to my feet. "You good?" she asks, her eyes on the fight.
"Yes. Go."
She heads back into the mess and I scan the activity. There are about fifteen vamps left, in two groups. Faith is at the center of one, and Spike is at the center of the other.
"I'm fine," Faith shouts. And she is. Seven is manageable for her.
Spike is not so fine, even though eight is normally manageable for him. He was injured pretty badly, and as much of the surface stuff has gone away, it's obvious that his strength isn't completely back. They're crowded around him so tightly that he barely has any room to throw punches. A quick incantation later, the vamps are scattered back. That includes Spike, because the others were too close to him for me to keep him unaffected.
But it gives him some space, which was mainly what he needed. He spins quickly and stakes a vampire who was trying to sneak up on him, then moves to the left to rush at one that landed away from the rest. With the vamps no longer clumped around Spike, my options are less limited. I immobilized three, and glance over to see how Faith's doing. She's holding her own against the four that aren't yet dust, so I turn back to Spike.
The three vampires I immobilized have broken back into motion. I'd like to say I'm surprised, but I'm not. My casting was hasty and, consequently, slipshod. But it gave Spike enough time to take out another vampire, which is a very good thing. He skirts around a charging vamp, and heads for the three that have just begun moving.
I look at Faith again. She's down to one vampire, and it's a few feet away from her. I confuse it, and she takes it out, not pausing before rushing over to assist Spike. I watch the fight carefully, but don't anticipate having to cast anything else. The five remaining vamps are really no match for a Slayer and a souled vampire who--from what I can see--are both very, very angry.
Spike is just a whirlwind all of a sudden, like he's gotten an adrenaline rush. Maybe he has. Or maybe he just decided that having a soul doesn't mean he can't really like a good fight. As for Faith, the frustration and fear from being so outnumbered initially is being taken out on the last of the vampires. I'd feel bad for them, if they weren't bent on killing us, because she's just holding nothing back.
A couple of minutes after Faith joins Spike, the last vampire's dust crumbles to the ground. The two of them remain tense, and turn in a slow circle to search our surroundings. Faith looks worse for the wear; her jaw is starting to swell, and she's got one arm cradled across her ribs. Spike is rolling his shoulders and flinching at every motion. Me, I exhale a little shakily and notice that the left side of my face feels like it's on fire or something. I'd touch it, but I already know it'll be swollen and tender, and I see no reason to make the pain worse.
"You okay?" I hear Spike ask, and the next second he's standing in front of me, one hand at the back of my head to steady me so that he can poke at my cheek. So much for avoiding additional pain.
I hiss and flinch away, my hands shoving at his. "Ouch!"
"We seriously need to book it home," Faith says abruptly, stepping up behind him.
I pick up the jammed crossbow and Faith curls her lip at it and shakes her head in disgust. We hurry back to the apartment, Faith and Spike tense and alert the entire time. They set us up single file, though neither of them actually proposes this course of action; they just fall into position, Faith in the lead and Spike at the back. The only talking that's done is by Faith, who calls Olson and tersely tells him and Josh to come to our place. Other than that, we're silent because talking would be a distraction that we really don't need.
Personally, I'm going to wait until we're safely home before I even think about how many ways we could have all just died a few minutes ago. The thoughts will most likely be accompanied by some tears and a whole lot of shaking. Not really the shape I want to be in should another gaggle of vampires appear around us.
Olson's SUV pulls into a spot in front of the building not long after we get there, and we wait for him and Josh to join us. They each heft a box out of the back of the SUV, which I know from experience means that they've hauled the research books over here.
Thankfully, they don't ask us any questions until we get inside and close the door. At which point, my knees collapse from under me. I'm kept from landing on the floor in an ungainly heap by Spike, who gets to my side in a blur of color and catches me with one arm at my back, and another at my knees. Before I know what's happening, he's setting me on the sofa.
I've been a lot closer to death. Closer, in a "I'm about to die here's my last thoughts of everyone I've ever loved" kind of way, I mean. There was two months ago, for example, when a Belpor demon was about a second away from carving my heart out of my chest with its claws, until Faith snapped its neck. I'm a lot more shaken right now than I was then. Why? Because Faith and Spike were that close. There are only two thoughts going through my head right now: we're so very lucky, and thank goodness they're alive.
"Tara!" I blink and see Olson leaning over me, a small glass of juice in his hand and a concerned frown marring his brow. I guess I zoned out and lost a few minutes to my shock. Olson lifts my hand and wraps it around the glass, not letting go of it entirely until he's sure I've got it. "Drink this. It'll help."
I frown down at the glass. The juice is sloshing around, and it takes me a second to realize that it's because my hands are shaking. Wait, no. Not just my hands. I knew there'd be shaking involved. Olson places his hand on mine and steadies the glass, gentle pressure raising it to my lips and tilting it back so that I can take a sip.
I give him a smile, but it feels a little...plastic. I feel plastic right about now, actually. Kind of like I've drawn away from my skin and my entire body has gone numb, the way your arm does when you fall asleep with it over your head.
When I bring the glass back to my mouth of my own accord, Olson removes his hand again moves away. The sloshing has decreased, which I take as a good sign.
"Oh, honey," Josh whispers, sitting next to me. He takes the thrown blanket from the sofa back and wraps it around me. "It's all right. You're home and safe now." My eyes seek out Faith and Spike, and I see them sitting at the table with grim expressions on their faces. Josh notices the direction of my gaze and gives me a hug. "All of us are safe, Ta," he assures me.
The hug is what does me in, and the tears come. It's the kind of crying that comes with shock, meaning it's silent and just not enough. Not enough of a release for what brought it on. Josh takes the glass away, because I'm spilling juice everywhere, and holds me tightly.
"They could have died," I murmur. "There were so many. Too many."
"Shh, it's all right."
When I'm done crying, I stay where I am. Comfort is a really good thing at times like these. I listen with half an ear as Faith and Spike tell Olson what happened, but I don't come to attention until Faith says, "There was another vamp there." Her voice is tight and uneasy. "Felt weird, and I couldn't pin down where he was."
"I sensed him, too," Spike admits tersely, his jaw clenched.
"First aid kits," I say lowly, staring to stand up. "They need--"
"Sit down," Josh says firmly, tugging me back onto the sofa. "I'll take care of it. You just...get your bearings, all right?"
I nod and sink back on the sofa, a little relieved that he's going to patch them up. As much as I'd like the distraction of something to do right about now, I think tending to them would just open the floodgates again.
Spike catches my eye. "How are you doing, pet?"
"Better. I'm sorry for...I just...um. I didn't mean to...." I stare down at my blanket-covered lap and wonder if I'll ever be able to take these things in stride the way the others do, instead of letting everything affect me so strongly.
"I need to fix you up," I hear Josh say, and I glance up to see Spike brushing him away and staring at me.
The sharp plains and angles of his face are soft, and his eyes are dark and deep. More like Caribbean water than a sky, now. "Don't you dare apologize," he orders me harshly. I hear the other voices and movements in the room stop. If I were to look away from Spike, I'm sure I'd find everyone staring at us.
He shakes his head, something like astonishment settling over his features. "Stuff you've come through?" he says quietly. "Should have sucked you dry. But it didn't, and you shouldn't ever wish it had. Hear me?"
He's right. I'm so incredibly fortunate to be how and where I am right now. What Spike doesn't realize, as he looks up at me with something akin to wonder, is that I owe a lot of my good fortune to him.
"I hear you," I assure him. " But...could I maybe wish for a vibe?" He frowns in confusion. "You know," I say clarify. "A badass, don't-mess-with- me vibe. I'd still be all squishy inside, but on the outside--hey, I'll cut you."
I fix him with my most menacing glare and raise a threatening fist. He lowers his head, but not before I see his lips twitch. "I think I'd like that," I continue with a nod and his shoulders start shaking. "I'd be the scariest thing in a long print skirt." Choked noises are coming from him, and I turn my head and smile sedately at the others. They're gaping at me. "Grrr," I growl in a soft voice, and Spike can't hold his laughter back anymore.
Faith frowns at Olson. "She is joking, right?"
"I believe so," he says through his own laughter, and Faith starts chuckling.
I frown delicately. "I was being serious," I tell them, and they're back to gaping at me.
Spike had stopped laughing, but he starts up again, and raises his face to address the others. His eyes are sparkling as he says, "Bunch of fools, the lot of you. Of course she's bloody well joking."
My frown deepens. "No I'm not." Spike arches a brow at me and purses his lip. I stare back at him, but I can only keep the frown in place for a couple of seconds before I break out into a wide smile. "Well, maybe a little," I concede.
With another chuckle, he waves Josh over again. "Right, then. Fix me up," he tells Josh, who shakes his head in confusion, but opens the first aid kit.
"You're a dork," Faith snickers at me, and I smile. Sighing, I tuck my legs under me on the sofa, then pull the blanket tighter around me.
"Considering what you told me last night, Spike," Olson says into the slightly more relaxed air, "I think the vampire you two sensed might be the one behind this."
The tension returns again, but lesser now, which is good. Faith reaches for a glass on the table, and downs half its contents. From the shudder she issues, I think Olson insisted she imbibe some of the brandy he stashed here a while ago. Olson slips into the kitchen and returns with our second first aid kit, then pulls up a chair next to Faith. Her eyes flicker, and I think she's going to argue with him about getting patched up, but she sighs tiredly and lets him do what he needs to do.
Josh is having only a little more luck with Spike, who is insisting that he doesn't need "any bloody fucking stitches."
"You put them in," Spike snaps, staring at the suturing thread in Josh's hand, "and they'll be grown over by morning. And you're supposed to be the smart one?" Hm. Perhaps he really did pick up on my PowerPuff Girls metaphor.
"Goddamn it," Josh snaps right back at him. He gestures at Spike's forearm. "You're cut right down to the bone. What do you expect me to do here?"
"Chill out, already," Faith says loudly. "Just stick some of those butterfly bandages on him. Same as you do with me."
"Oh," Josh says, blinking. "Yeah, I can do that."
He isn't normally so, um, well flaky. Really. We knew what we were doing when we sent him off, instead of any of us going ourselves, to get paramedic training. He knows better than stitching Spike, and he's used those butterfly bandages on Faith enough times that they should be what he reaches for before sutures. But I think he's as unsettled as the rest of us are by what could have happened tonight.
And speaking of what could have happened tonight, I really need something to do right about now. I take a breath and wrestle myself out from the blanket, then make my way into the kitchen to heat up some blood for Spike.
"So, we think it's a vamp, then? Behind all of this?" Josh asks a couple of the room at large a couple of minutes later, while he squeezes the sides of the gash together and settles a bandage over it. Noises of ascent follow the question, and I take two mugs out of the microwave.
Olson looks up. "I remember reading something in the Watchers Journals," he says thoughtfully. "A particularly nasty vampire with mystical abilities that could be similar to what we've seen. If I recall correctly, the Slayer who encountered him also said the feel of him was...'off'. Josh?"
I set the blood on the table in front of Spike, and he flashes me a quick smile. Then, Josh is pushing me at Spike's arm, mumbling something about taking over for him. I pick up where he left off and put a fourth bandage on Spike's cut. It's going to need two more due to its length.
Faith and Olson are having a quiet conversation as he pokes and prods at her ribs, and I raise my brow at Spike when I see him narrowing his eyes on them. "Don't eavesdrop. Drink your blood."
A long-suffering look of annoyance comes to his face, but he picks up the blood. And I'm not sure, but I think I see a glimmer of indulgence in his eyes. Interesting.
"Found the reference," Josh exclaims. I set the last bandage on Spike and pat his arm gently, then face Josh. He's sitting on the floor by the door, next to the two boxes he and Olson brought over. He's got his long container of indexed cards between his legs, and is staring at one of them.
Faith pushes Olson aside and gets to her feet. "What do we know?" she asks quickly.
Josh flips the card over and curses. "Jack shit," he says succinctly. "It's from the Watcher Journals I indexed before Mr. High and Mighty took them back."
Giles left only some of the more recent Journals behind for good, and brought the rest back to England with him the last time he visited. Olson rubs a hand across his face and walks slowly to the sofa, collapsing onto it. "I could really do without navigating the touchiness that is Rupert Giles at the moment," he mutters. "Could you get me the phone, Faith?"
I stay her with a shake of my head, then get the cordless phone. Instead of handing it to Olson, I sit at the table and dial. Olson makes an impatient noise. "Tara, there's no need for you to--"
"Yeah, there is," Faith interrupts him harshly. "You and Giles on the phone? I've heard it before, Olson. There'll be civilized but resentful chitchat, followed by an awkward request for help, then an argument. Giles won't call us back for a day, and we don't need to be wasting a day." She nods at me. "Call him."
"It's gotten better," Olson argues.
Josh snorts. "Barely."
I finish dialing, and tune out the conversation that follows, which begins with Spike asking if Giles still has his knickers in a twist. He kind of does, but it's understandable. Overall, the Giles situation is...tense. Although from what Olson has told me, it's less tense than it was before Faith read Giles the riot act during the mess with the Cerno.
I think she gave him a lot to think about when she told him he had to trust us or back off. It's hard to say if he'll ever come to terms with Faith and the rest of us being here, instead of Buffy and her group. But he is trying. He hasn't made any random visits since then, and his phone calls come weekly now, instead of daily.
With a start, I realize that Giles has answered the phone, and by the impatient tone to his greeting, I think he's said it a couple of times. "Oh. Hi. It's Tara."
"Well, hello," he says, surprised. "How are you?"
"Good. I'm, uh, good. And you?"
He chuckles wryly. "I'm good as well. Considering that I'm due to call tomorrow, am I safe in assuming this isn't a social call?"
"It's business," I admit. "We think--well, there's this vampire? And we think he's someone from one of the Journals you left here for a while. We found a reference from when Josh indexed them?" I look up and motion at Josh, and he brings me the card.
"I see," Giles murmurs. "Yes, well, let me get a pen...here we are. What do you have?"
I glance at the card and give Giles the citation that's scrawled across the back. "Oh my," Giles says quietly. "I believe I remember what you're referring to. Sketchily at best," he adds with a sigh. "What makes you think this vampire is the one responsible?"
As best I can, I summarize what we've come up against in the past couple of days. I bite my lip and decide not to mention Spike at the moment. Mainly because I haven't asked if it's all right to tell Giles.
"I'll leave for the Council stacks immediately," Giles says tiredly. "In the meantime, have you considered a sensing spell?"
"What do you mean?" I frown and mime writing something down at Faith. She interprets the gesture and gets me a pen and a pad from the desk in the corner.
"A spell to...give you warning of imminent magical use. It should at least lessen the element of surprise. There are several that I know of," he continues. "But the most reliable is in the Greigh."
The Greigh is a hefty spell book whose contents are mostly out of my league. "Um, that's probably not an option, then."
"It's one of the simpler spells," he hurries to assure me. "I know there's a copy of it at the Magic Box. Look for the Evigilo. I believe it should be manageable for you to cast."
I scribble down that, and the rest of what he tells me about the spell, and then we hang up with a soft, "Do be careful" from Giles' end of the line.
"The Greigh?" Olson comments, coming up behind me and peering over my shoulder before taking a seat beside me. "One of the few books we didn't bring over."
"Hm, well we can get it during the day," I say absently, pondering all that Giles told me. "Giles was heading over to look through the Journals. He said he'll call when he has something for us."
"What did he recommend?"
Olson's voice is casual, but it's not a pretense. Giles can, at times, be difficult for Olson to deal with, but Olson is well aware that we're fortunate to have someone with Giles' knowledge and resources at our disposal.
"Some kind of early warning detection spell," I reply. "To gives us...a heads up? For the appearing vamps. I won't know if I can do it until I take a look at it, though."
Olson nods, then looks around the room, his eyes zeroing in on Faith, who is now sitting on the stairs. "You're in for the evening," he says firmly. Her ready acceptance of this is all the proof we're likely to get that the thirty-on-one odds made her nervous earlier. "If Tara can perform this spell, then we'll all be patrolling tomorrow."
Faith straightens up. "The fuck you will," she snaps. "Not unless that spell gives you Slayer powers."
"Yes we will," Olson counters, his tone steely. "Tara has been helpful twice already, and if things continue the way they have been, you and Spike could use two more sets of hands."
"He's right, Slayer," Spike says curtly. "I'm not in top condition by a long shot."
Hands tangled in her hair, Faith dips her head for a moment. I see her take in a deep breath, then she looks up and nods. "All right. Fine."
Olson glances at Josh, his face tight. "I want you in a residence after dark. You are not to be in the Magic Box or on your way somewhere when the sun sets." Almost as an afterthought, he looks at me. "You as well."
"You two are staying here tonight," Faith orders Olson and Josh.
"Where the hell are we supposed to sleep?" Josh asks caustically.
Spike smirks around his mug. "Bathtub's comfy, from what I remember."
Josh gives him the finger and then pulls himself to his feet, making his way to Olson and sitting beside him. I look at the pair of them. "You can stay in Faith's room. Spike, that means you'll need to take the sofa. Is that all right?"
He nods his agreement, and reaches for the second mug. I take the empty into the kitchen and prepare another helping of blood.
"Been a while since we had a slumber party," Josh notes. "Who's up for giving me a pedicure?"
***
We bunk down a few hours later, at a time that's unnaturally early for a crisis period. By ten o'clock, the lights are off and we've all had our turn to shower. I'm setting Spike up with spare blankets and pillows in the living room, and he stops my fussing over the sofa by taking hold of my wrists.
"Should get some sleep. Been a rough night," he tells me.
I look around and sigh. "I...I don't like leaving you down here alone," I confess. "Maybe you could stay upstairs? With the rest of us?"
He rolls his eyes. "I'll be fine. Besides, where would I sleep?" he questions archly. "Not really interested in being that up close and personal to Josh and Olson's...cuddling." He smirks and my lips twist. "And I'm damn well not crashing on the floor next to Faith, that's for sure. I'd wake up in worse shape than I'm already in, what with her flailing limbs."
"How do you know about her flailing limbs?" I ask him, twitching a brow.
A finger taps my nose. "Gutter mind. Seen her sacked out on the sofa more than a few times."
I open my mouth, then close it abruptly. Spike's eyes soften and he nods in approval and understanding. I had been about to ask him if he'd be willing to share my bed, because we've shared before. But the thing is, when we shared before? It seemed like comfort at the time, but with hindsight it was more like hiding away from what we needed to be facing.
"Let me know if you need anything," I tell him, and make my way upstairs.
Faith is already strewn across the sleeping bag on my floor, lying on her stomach with her arms and legs stretched out in every direction. Her eyes are open, but tired. The fight was hard and even though there are hours until her normal bedtime, I'm surprised she's still awake.
I click the light off and slip into bed. The adrenaline rush from earlier is well and truly gone, and within fifteen minutes I'm asleep. Sometime during the night I wake up, not sure why. My eyes automatically go to the mirror above my dresser, in case Khentimentiu has dropped by. All I see is the reflection of my room, so I look around. Faith is sitting up in the sleeping bag. I can't see her face, but it seems like she's staring at me.
"Everything all right?" I ask her, sitting up a bit.
"Yeah," she grunts. "It's just...don't do that again."
I tilt my head to the side. Her voice is clipped, but it sometimes gets like that when she's upset about something, and not just when she's angry. "Do what?"
"You were a fucking mile away. Thought those vamps were gonna do you in."
Mile away? Vamps? Oh. Oh, my. With the Belpor demon? It tackled me to the ground and raised its claw suddenly, but Faith was only a foot or so away at the time. For her, I guess, I was closer to death tonight when those three vampires came after me, because she was a good fifteen feet away and fighting off a mob.
"I won't do that again," I promise her softly. It's not really a promise, though, because it's out of my control. But it's an assurance of sorts, and it's the best I can offer. "Do you want to come up here?"
I see the shadows flicker as she shakes her head. "Nah. I'm good." She settles back down again. "Night."
"Night."
***