=Chapter Six=
The bad guy--Niall--thinks I can defeat him.
"That's...insane," I mutter, staring around at the others. "He's, uh, really powerful. Why would he think that?"
"That would be one of the ten million freaking things we don't know," Faith sighs, running her hands through her hair. "All we found out was that he came into town specifically to get a look at you."
I shake my head again and look at Olson. "What, exactly, did you hear?"
Olson frowns, pausing to think. "That Niall was told there was a witch in town who could defeat him, and that the witch should take priority over the Slayer."
It's my turn to frown. "It...it doesn't make sense," I say with exasperation. "I *can't*."
Olson nods. "I thought not. Which means that he was purposely fed false information."
"How the hell did you get there from here?" Faith bites out. "She helped take out those vamps. That could be why she's seen as a threat."
Both Olson and I shake our heads. "The magic she used for that doesn't hint at the type of power Niall thinks she has," Olson replies.
"Power?" Spike repeats slowly. "What if it's about what she did when she had Will's power?"
"Doesn't fly," Josh answers immediately. "Those Arcepts have been bitching far and wide that Tara did the Cerno and kept them from getting Willow's magic. Everyone knows she doesn't have it anymore."
"I heard something else," Faith admits. "Something like the Owl of Shaltan."
"Owl?" Josh repeats dubiously.
"Not who-who owl. Something ending with that sound." She crosses her arms defensively. "He had tusks, and he wasn't easy to understand."
"Cowl," Spike tells us. "The Cowl of Shaltan. Niall thinks it's here and accessible?"
Faith shrugs. "All I know is he's had some of his lackeys sniffing around for it."
"We'll have to look into it," Olson says decisively.
"Don't bother," Spike says, going to the table and taking a seat. "It's not here and it's not accessible." We're all staring at him and he rubs the back of his neck. "It's the crest of a high Latzal demon, and it's currently on its owner's head in New Orleans. Nothing short of the bugger taking it off voluntarily, putting it on Niall's head, and muttering some words, will get it off or make it useful to."
"Um, confused," I say. "Why would Niall want it?"
"Cowl offers invulnerability to its wearer," Spike states. "It's a Latzal trinket, but it can work on other species. If they get permission. Can't wrest it away from the bloke, can't kill him to get it." He frowns in consideration. "Suppose he could abandon it--leave it up for anyone willing to take it. But as of a week ago it was on the Latzal and he wasn't entertaining the idea of sending it off into the wild."
Faith seems as confused, worried and frustrated as we all are. "So Niall got sent out to catch jackanapes?"
"So it seems," Olson sighs, sitting next to me and pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead. "He was sent to Sunnydale, for something that is not here and is rather useless to him even if it were. He was most likely told that taking control of the Hellmouth was the best way of gaining it. More alarmingly, he was also told that Tara is his biggest threat."
I don't like the implications of that at all. Josh leans around me to look at Olson. "Are you trying to say that someone wants her dead, and went through all of this to get it?" he asks carefully.
"I'm not saying anything," Olson mutters as he drops his hands from his face and sinks back onto the couch. "Except that Niall has been manipulated into coming here, and targeting Tara. I doubt he's aware of it, and I doubt this is actually about killing Tara." He flashes me a brief, reassuring smile. "There are far simpler ways to go about that."
"We have no way of knowing what it's about," I say with frustration. "I mean, if you think about it? Niall probably got all of this information from that seer who Giles can't find out anything about."
Faith gets to her feet and tucks the stake at the small of her back. "Not acceptable," she says resolutely. "Our entire plan is *not* going to be to dust Niall."
Spike frowns at her. "Why the hell not?"
"Because he might not show up again," she reminds him, then looks at Olson. "We need to know who Niall powwowed with."
"I agree, but how?"
"There's a way, and we'll figure it out," Faith announces to us, no arguments allowed. "Until then, we keep Tara safe and we dust Niall if he shows his face."
Josh shifts next to me and rolls his eyes. "And we hope that the million people in this town who know where to find you don't tell Niall's goons, and that they don't come to burn you and Tara out."
"Just like we do on a day to day basis," Faith says coolly, then turns to Olson again. "Call Giles. Get every scrap of information he has on that meeting--rumors, guesses, whatever. We need it fast, too."
There's a noise from Josh. He doesn't look all that pleased. "Great. You just know that he's going to come running over to 'help'."
Faith's face tightens and she strides of to us and stares down at Josh. "I don't give a crap about Giles' issues with us, ours with him, or whether or not he comes here," she says slowly. "We need all the help we can get. Period."
It actually is a Slayocracy around here rather often. When Faith gets this way--all ordering and serious and on-the-ball--we just go with what she says. I think it's a Slayer thing, that attitude. Whether it's *why* someone gets Chosen, or if it's *part* of getting Chosen, doesn't matter. It's there. The commanding presence and the intensity that has people obeying with very little questions.
I think she should use it a lot more, but generally she just voices her opinions in a Faith way, instead of a Slayer way. That's what leads her to getting overruled. And the reason she uses it sparingly is because she feels inadequate a lot of time. I mean, she knows she's a Slayer, and she knows she's good at it. But the rest of the stuff? Strategizing, leading, making decisions that affect others and could result in injury or death? She doesn't think she has a right to do that, because that was what Buffy had a right to do. Not Faith.
Faith is staring around the apartment at the decorations, and I realize with a start that it's Christmas Eve. Our plan for tomorrow was devised in such a way as to give Josh and Olson the day alone together, and allow Faith to sleep in until her usual sunset. Festivities are slated to start just after dusk.
"We're postponing Christmas."
To my surprise, it's Josh that speaks up. "The fuck we are. It's bad enough we're hiding away, we're not letting them screw up our Christmas."
Olson sighs and cranes his head back to look at Josh. "We're in the middle-- "
"Something is always going on. We're not letting that something be *everything*." Josh looks around and then nods. "New plan: Eric and I will go to our place in the morning to get our presents, then come back so he and Tara can do the cooking. We'll confine the festivities to daylight, and we can talk about and plan for what's going on. But not while we eat, and not while we're exchanging gifts. I think it's a fair enough compromise."
There's a whole lot of silence after that, and it's because Josh is the last person any of us would have expected to take up the Christmas cause. Finally, Spike speaks up. "Pretty boy has a point. Shouldn't let them take anything from you."
"All right," Faith grudgingly agrees, her eyes on me. Then they narrow, and she turns to Spike. "I need to know if you can do this."
His face twists. "Christmas?"
"Fight," she counters. "Because what I saw the other night in the cemetery? Not Spike fighting."
"He was injured," I remind her, but she shakes her head and doesn't remove her gaze from Spike.
"You know what I'm talking about," she tells him. "And it's fine if you can't. I just need to know what to expect is all."
Spike's face gets really tight and thin, and the muscle at his jaw jumps. "Good question," he says darkly, then gets to his feet. "I'm going out."
I make a noise and rise. Olson puts a hand on my arm to stop me from following after Spike. "Tara, I don't think that's a good idea," he says flatly.
I shake his hand off and run out of the apartment. It takes me a few moments to catch sight of him, and I call out his name as I jog his way. He comes to a stop and waits for me, and when I get to his side, his eyes are glittering like shards of broken glass.
"You shouldn't have brought me here," he grinds out.
I close my eyes and feel the tears welling up. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to...help."
"Help?" he rasps out, a bitter laugh following the word. My eyes open. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. "You think this is helping me? This damn soul didn't come with an instruction booklet, Tara. All I wanted to do was figure the bloody thing out, not get dragged into the middle of this mess."
"I didn't know what to do," I tell him softly. "I--Khentimentiu said you needed my help. I had to do something, and I didn't know this, uh, mess was going to happen. I didn't mean to...to make it worse."
His lips curl. "Well, guess what, pet? You did." He tosses his hands up in frustration, then tangles them through his hair. "Can you even comprehend what it's like?" he asks intently.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head.
"It's like getting ripped apart," he hisses, stalking towards me. I swallow and stare at him. "Getting sliced up from the inside with conflicting urges." He stops just a few inches from me, and my hands start shaking. "And you can't just expect me to be able to *ignore* it. To go out and fight like none of it is going on. It takes everything I've got to keep a hold on myself."
I duck my head and let the tears fall. For all that he's done for me, he didn't deserve this in return. "You should...you should leave," I say thickly, backing away. "I'm sorry. And I know that doesn't make anything better. But I am. So sorry. I won't--I won't bother you again. I swear."
Turning, I run back towards the apartment. He doesn't call after me, and he doesn't try to catch me. I'm a fool. A really big fool. I thought I could return his favor, help him like he helped me. I thought I knew him well enough that I would know how to do it. Instead I've just complicated everything for him.
When I rush back into the apartment, the conversation fades away and everyone looks at me. I'm still crying, and all I can really do is just shake my head at them before I drag myself upstairs. Once there, I look around, lost as to what to do. I slink into my room and take my coat off, then curl up on my bed.
Olson comes by to check on me, but I ask him to leave me alone for the moment. I've been crying, and I'm tired, and I'm worried, and I'm suddenly asleep thanks to the stress.
I wake up to the disturbing sensation of not being alone any longer. My eyes fly open and I sit up, only relaxing when I see Spike sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me. Fear is replaced by confusion, and an absolute lack of words. The lights are off and I can't see him clearly. But even I don't need preternatural senses to pick up on two things: the musky scent of sex is clinging to him, as well as the acrid smell of liquor. I'm not sure what to say, so I don't say anything.
"We're pretty good nowadays at not letting on how bloody fucked up we are," he says after a while.
I laugh. I can't help it. "No we're not, actually," I say around the amusement. "We just think we are."
He turns his head, light from the window illuminating the side of his face enough for me to see the wry grin on his lips. "Maybe so," he concedes. "So I think my issues are stunningly clear, pet. What are yours, eh?"
I sit up a little more and lean my head against the wall behind the bed. "Hm, well according to my shrink? I have this compulsion to fix people. It has to do with the way...Glory made me, um, unfix people. You know?"
Spike shifts around until he's facing me and arches a brow. "Yeah? Think you got off easier than me."
"Guess I was due for a break," I say with a shrug, then I touch his arm and take a breath. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have presumed...well, anything."
"Hell, Tara," he sighs. "You could be right. Not really the point."
My smile is more than a little sad. "I know; it's up to you to get there. I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that," he grumbles. "Heard you the first forty times." My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I see him purse his lips and scowl at me. "I do just want to point out that I never tried to *fix* you, even at your worst."
I duck my head, because he's right. He never did try to fix me, just stayed by my side while I figured it all out. "Do you--do you need money?" I ask him. "To go, I mean. I don't have much, but I'm sure Olson--"
"I'm not leaving."
That kind of takes the wind out of my sails, and I'm not sure if it's good or bad. "Oh. Okay." I fiddle with the blanket bunched at my waist. "But, why not? I thought...I mean, the way you said..."
He sighs, and nudges me over on the bed, then swings his legs up and crosses his arms under his head. "Got nice and lit," he tells the ceiling. "Stole myself a car and started driving out of town. Didn't get very far."
I look up at the ceiling as well, and ask it, "Was that before or after the sex?" There's a long, surprised silence, and my lips twist. "Even a human nose can smell it. Plus, kind of your M.O. from what Faith's told me. You know, when you're...out of sorts."
"It was after," he admits reluctantly, something very annoyed creeping into his voice. "And speaking of Faith, what's the deal there? You two diving for muff?"
The ceiling is presented with my fiercest glare while Spike receives a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Faith is straight," I remind him. "Very, very straight."
He snickers, and I know he's about to bring up her random hops over the fence. "Except when she's bendy," he drawls and I have to roll my eyes. "So, have you plowed that--"
"Don't finish that sentence," I say sharply, turning away from the ceiling to scowl at him. "Things are about as sexual between me and Faith as they are between me and you."
A look of profound disappointment crosses his face. "Damn. Guess that means I should stop listening outside the door, then." My eyes widen and I gape at him, but he just winks and smirks, leaving me know idea of whether or not he's joking.
He pulls one arm out from under his head and brushes my hair back from my face. "She's a little possessive of you, is why I asked."
I scoot down the bed and lay on my side, propping my head up with my hand. "Hm. Faith isn't...used to having people in her life," I explain carefully. " And she generally has me to herself." He laughs, and there's something to it that conveys he knows how much of an understatement my words are. I stare at his profile and take a breath. "Spike?" He turns his head to the side and watches me. "Why...why didn't you leave?"
His eyes go to the ceiling again. "Really wanted to," he says shortly. "But I didn't keep you alive during our globe trotting just to let some poncey vamp take you out. When he's taken care of..."
"Thank you."
He shrugs uncomfortably and then sits up. "Let's get downstairs. Olson was on the phone with Giles when I got in. Might be something new."
***
Giles doesn't have anything new, per se. Just more details on Niall, including what I already figured out--that his magic gets drained quickly. He's also pretty strong, which Spike already figured out after fighting him. Niall is, after all, three hundred, which is older than Spike. With the magic, and his strength, and the number of vamps he can transport, it'll most likely take all of us to kill him. He also tells Olson that he'll get any information--however sketchy--on the meeting between Niall and the seer.
Olson tells Spike and me all of this as soon as we get downstairs, and he does his very best not to seem curious about Spike's departure, my crying, or Spike's reappearance. He fails, of course, because Watchers have some kind of built in desire to know things. But the fact that he tries, and that he doesn't ask, is really appreciated.
Faith's eyes are hooded as they travel from Spike, to me, and back again. "What's the call?"
Spike arches a brow. "I can do it," he says simply.
For a moment, Faith studies him dubiously, but then she nods in apparently satisfaction before going to the couch and flopping down next to Josh. Who, I notice, is munching on what looks suspiciously like the mini Snickers Crunchers from his stocking. Sure enough, when I look over it's obvious that he's rifled through it.
"Those are supposed to be for Christmas," I tell him wryly, moving to sit on his other side.
"I'm the male Slayer," he says importantly. "That gives me leave to plunder my own Christmas stocking a whole four hours before Christmas."
He holds out one to me and I take it, unwrapping the treat and realizing that I'm actually pretty hungry. I have no interest in rustling anything up, so I look at Josh. "I'm hungry. What about you?"
He nods, and Faith pipes in with, "I'm fucking starving."
They both stared at me for a long moment, and when it becomes obvious that I'm not about to get up and provide anyone with food, the pair of them zero in on Olson, who is busy quietly conversing with Spike at the table.
"Baaaaby," Josh singsongs, and Olson looks over with a grimace of annoyance. Endearments really aren't his thing. "We're hungry." He pouts cutely. "And battered." He flutters his eyelashes. "And willing to trade sexual favors for food."
I choke on my Snickers Cruncher, and Faith reaches across Josh to pound on my back. "Speak for your damn self," she snorts at Josh.
"Please," Josh retorts as I brush Faith away. "Like you don't think Eric is do-able."
"Can we please end this conversation now?" Olson says testily.
But we can't, because Faith has something to add. "Do-able has nothing to do with it," she says with a smirk, and a confident gleam in her eyes. "I just don't think he'd get the full effect of the experience seeing as how he's all about the co--"
"I'll feed you only if you stop right now," Olson says a little desperately.
Faith and Josh wink at each other. "Deal," they say simultaneously.
See, this is part of the reason I generally offer food, rather than waiting to be asked. And if I am asked, I generally say yes right away. It just goes better.
Olson bypasses the leftovers--which are seriously dwindling due to the amount of times everyone has eaten here in the last few days--and whips up some omelets for us. For the moment we're not in the midst of anything, even if just how much we are in the midst of something is visible in the way we stick close to prevent the shocking from the Leviglio and how we very carefully don't mention that we're in the middle of anything.
It passes quickly, and we're left in a thick silence that carries tension, fear and worry. For a while we discuss the situation at hand, but all we end up doing is just going in circles. We don't really have enough information about anything to talk about it...and even though I find myself more and more thinking that something about all of this is really off, I can't pinpoint how.
Faith is on edge. She's tensing and turning her eyes towards every random sound, and she's checking every few minutes to make sure her stake hasn't moved from the small of her back, where it's tucked in her waistband.
Spike is quieter than normal, and is frowning a lot. Josh keeps humming Christmas carols under his breath, the glint in his eyes making it obvious he's doing it less for the spirit of the holiday and more to thumb his nose at Niall. Olson looks to be one step away from clamping his hand over Josh's mouth if he even considers breaking into song. As for me, I'm trying to not think about the fact that someone has sicced Niall on me, and trying to stop thinking about what's off about all of this; I've learned from experience that the answer comes only after I stop seeking it.
All in all, we're a rather moody lot, and I'm still tired from my crying jag. So a few minutes after midnight, after Josh tries to ring in the holiday with an off-key rendition of *Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer* and Olson effectively muzzles him, I turn in for the night. I hear Josh and Olson come up half an hour later and make their way to Faith's room, and I'm asleep not long after.
I wake in the middle of the night for no reason that I can determine. I didn't have a nightmare, and although Faith and Spike aren't being quiet downstairs in the living room, they're not being overly loud. From what I can ascertain, they're playing video games. Which is...well, it should seem odd, and it does. But at the same time it's really normal and it makes me smile.
The clock on my bedside table reads three in the morning, and I wish that Faith were already snoozing on the empty sleeping bag at the foot of the bed. Because waking her for Christmas tomorrow? Not going to be fun.
But there's no reason I should have woken up, and what's even stranger is that I keep looking at the mirror over my dresser. Am I expecting Khentimentiu to appear in it, like he did when Spike got his soul? I honestly don't know. But it's another thing to add to the various vague things floating in my head and waiting to coalesce into something tangible.
Sighing, I lie down again and go back to sleep.
***
The phone rings at eight in the morning. I know who it is without having to think very hard about it. Faith makes an ill-tempered growling noise from the sleeping bag and I snatch the phone from my bedside table.
"Merry Christmas, Dawnie."
"Tara!" she squeals. "Merry Christmas."
I leave Faith in the sleeping bag because she's already sleeping, and then head downstairs, making sure to take the last of the presents from my closet. Dawn is chatting away a mile a minute in my ear, and I smile as I offer up the requisite "yes, I'm listening" sounds. It usually takes a while before Dawn gears down to actual conversation.
The living room is empty. Josh and Olson probably headed to their place at first light and sent Spike upstairs to Faith's room. Musical beds. I set the presents under the tree and then sit down and just...bask in Dawn.
She is probably the most amazing person I've ever met. Really. Through all the pain and death and loss, there's emerged a young woman who is wise and mature, but still so young and silly. It's awe-inspiring.
It also makes me wonder how it happened. Because from what I understood, Dawn and her father weren't on very good terms before Spike sent her to live with him. That's changed, though. I don't think she'll ever be as close to him as she was before the divorce, or as close as she was to Joyce, but there's actually a relationship there now.
I missed out on its development, on account of being...um, insane when it was occurring. And I've never really been sure how to ask Dawn about it. When I first got back, she was a bit confused and sad because of cutting Spike out of her life. After she sorted that all out, I was hesitant to bring up another sensitive subject.
"Oh my god! I love you, I love you, I love you!" Dawn says excitedly after she opens my gift. "This is the best present ever. None can surpass it."
"This" is a DVD box set of the first season of her favorite show, a prime time soap/drama aimed at girls her age called "The Poconos". She's forced me to watch it a time or two, and I can't really see the appeal. But, then again, I'm sure adults said that about "Beverly Hills 90210" when I watched it.
"I saved the receipt in case you want to exchange it," I say with a grin.
"Exchange it?" she repeats incredulously. "That's just crazy talk."
She goes silent, probably worried that the crazy talk comment hit a little too close to home. "I was just teasing. I'm glad you like it. Can I open mine now?"
Dawn bounces right back into her holiday cheer. "Yes! Open it now, because Dad's taking me out to breakfast and we have to leave soon."
I dig around under the tree and find the brightly wrapped package that came in the mail last week from Dawn. There's a mountain of bows and curled ribbon on it, and it takes me five minutes and a pair of scissors to actually get them all off.
And when I do, I break into a huge smile. It's a mini portable MP3 player. I mentioned in passing after I re-enrolled at Sunnydale U that it was hard to study at the apartment because I needed music, but Faith was generally sleeping when I studied. And my Walkman is a tape player, and pretty much ancient.
"Dawnie! It's wonderful!"
"Do you like it?" she frets. "I mean, you're not just saying that?"
"Not at all. Now I can listen to music I like, instead of my old Tiffany tapes."
She laughs and we catch each other up before she has to leave for breakfast. I don't mention Spike, though I'm tempted to spill the beans and force his hand. But, you know, I can't really disregard a lesson I just learned last night.
Giles calls not long after, and our conversation isn't nearly as pleasant after the holiday wishes are done.
"Tara, why didn't you mention when we last spoke that Spike was back? And with a soul?" he asks guardedly.
I'm getting a little annoyed with the way people seem to think that I'm Spike's mouthpiece and that they have a right to know everything about him that I know. Which, yes, considering I wanted to tell Dawn about it all is a bit...contrary.
I head into the kitchen and start pulling out the pots and other implements required for the Chocolate Truffle Torte. "I, uh, wasn't sure he wanted you to know," I say plainly.
"Yes, well, while I understand that, I am still responsible for monitoring all of you for the Council. This type of information can't be held back."
I set down a pot more forcefully than necessary. "A visit from Spike is vital information?" I ask dubiously.
"A visit? He's not going to be staying?"
"No. As soon as...Niall is taken care of? He's leaving."
Giles seems nonplussed by this. "Oh, well, then. Good. If, er, his plans change and he decides to stay, I'll need to know." He took a breath. "The Council...suffice it to say that if they believe Faith to be keeping things from them, they would not react well."
There are a few reasons everyone is so understanding of Giles' situation and subsequent attitude, even though they're not the most understanding of groups normally. First, they know how close he was to Buffy, Xander, Willow and Anya. Second, he doesn't exactly have the nicest history with Faith. Third, despite the not nice history, he's the one who went to bat for her to the Council. He might say that it was out of necessity. That the Hellmouth needed a Slayer and she was all that was left. But if he'd honestly thought Faith couldn't handle the job, he wouldn't have done it.
And we all know that he still does stand up for her. It wasn't so long ago that a team of Watchers had been dispatched to, well, dispatch her. Giles supports her, even if he doesn't advertise that fact. But we know, because Faith is still here, and if it were up to the Council alone, she wouldn't be.
"We'll let you know right away if he changes his plans," I assure him quietly, then decide a change of subject is in order. "Did you, um, like your gift?"
"Very much so," he says immediately. "It was very thoughtful of you. But, really, I can't accept it. It must have cost a great deal, and you're in college again. You need to save your money."
"No, you have to accept it," I insist. "The problems with my scholarship? You know, since I kind of went AWOL? They seem to have...disappeared."
"Disappeared?" he repeats, confused.
"Hm. Strangely enough, it was after I mentioned it to Olson. I think he, uh, did something. He's got all those contacts because of his family. So I got the money I already paid refunded, and since I don't have to pay rent..."
"Tara," he says sternly. "You sent me a sixteenth century edition of Polit's Demonology. I am quite aware of the going rate for it. I shall send it back to you, but the thought means a lot to me."
"I got a discount. A, uh, huge discount." I do the math in my head while I upend a package of chocolate chips into a pan. "About...seventy percent."
"Seventy percent? Really?"
"Mm hm. The shop in Los Angeles where I looked up the Cerno? It's run by a really nice witch named Emily. She was impressed that I did it. And lived." That last part is the important part, because I'm the only documented success story for the ritual. "I put her and Josh in touch. She wanted to thank me because she's managed to save a lot of money using some of the Magic Box's suppliers, so...discount."
"Exorbitant discount," Giles say with shock. "Goodness. That's...well, then, I suppose I'll keep it. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Speaking of gifts, I have spoken to the delivery company, and they have tracked down my package for you. It should be there the day after tomorrow."
Olson and Josh get back just as I'm hanging up with Giles. "Anything new?" Olson asks, setting a bag overflowing with wrapped presents by the tree.
"No. But he's meeting with a contact of his today, so he'll call us after," I say.
Josh gives me a hug that lifts me off the ground, then grabs my hand and drags me to the Santa hats by the tree. I set his on his head, he sets mine on my head, and we grab Faith's before heading up the stairs. We hurry down the hall and he throws my bedroom door open. It slams against the wall behind it and Faith bolts into a sitting position, a knife in her hand. She tosses it aside when she sees us tripping towards her, giggling.
I plop the Santa hat on her head while Josh tickles her ribs and screams, "Merry Christmas!"
Poor Faith. I think she thought we'd let her sleeping until it was time to eat. She's staring at us uncomprehendingly, and is blinking very slowly. Josh and I each take one of her hands and pull her to her feet.
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbles, but she's trying not to smile in the face of our enthusiasm. Josh was right. There is too much daylight in our lives to just focus on the night. We trip into the hall, Josh and I towing Faith along, and I stop to look at Faith's door.
Faith's eyes widen. "You're nuts," she says incredulously. "Fucking nuts."
I look at Josh and a smirk appears on his face. "Think he sleeps nekkid?" he asks, tugging us to the door. He shoves me of front of them and nods. "Why don't you check on that, Ta? In the interest of..."
"Perversion?" I supply, wryly.
Faith shrugs. "Perversion, science. Same diff."
I roll my eyes. "I really don't have an interest at all."
"But we do," Josh says firmly. "And you're the only one he won't kill. Go."
"Fine," I sigh. Turning to the door, I smile. "Spike, what's the answer?" I ask in a normal voice.
"Yes, but I'm decently covered up now," he calls back, snickering.
Faith and Josh sulk a little as I chuckle and open the door. "Keen hearing," I remind them a little smugly.
Spike refuses to be drawn into the holiday cheer, despite Josh's attempts. But that's okay, because Faith doesn't seem to hate it, and that was really the point of it all. He does agree to come downstairs and join us while we partake of the cheer.
And, boy, do we partake. Josh seems to have made it his mission to force us to focus on the Christmas part of the day, rather than on the current Hellmouth events. And, you know, I'm not really complaining. It's a lot more enjoyable to engage in a tinsel fight with Josh than it is to discuss why someone is trying to kill me. It's also a lot more enjoyable to watch Spike slip into vamp face when Josh tries to wrap a line of garland around his neck. But, that's probably because I'm not the one getting growled at.
Faith falls asleep after we eat the ham Olson made, and we let her nap while I finish baking the torte. Then we eat slabs of dense chocolate goodness while we rip open gifts. Some of them are gag gifts, which is to be expected. But I really could have done without the...interestingly shaped, uh, "personal massager" that Josh made me open in front of everyone. I don't know if I'll be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.
Other than that, the gifts are pretty routine. They consist of normal Christmas givings--like CDs, and clothes, and witchcraft paraphernalia. Spike seems a bit embarrassed to take my offerings, and mutters something about not having any of his own. I wave that aside and tell him to open them. I replaced a couple of CDs that were stolen from his crypt that summer he stayed at Giles' with the rest of us, and got him a small bottle of high end tequila that cost more than Giles' rare book did.
And it turns out that the subject of Niall doesn't come up at all once Giles calls to say that his contact could provide no helpful information other than what he already knew. I consider this at around nine in the evening, when we're lazing on the sofa and loveseat watching *The Long Kiss Goodnight*, which is the only "Christmas" movie Faith would agree to watch. I think about bringing it up, but I don't want to. Maybe it's foolish. Stupid, even. But it's Christmas, and we're enjoying it.
There's time enough tomorrow for horror.
***
The bad guy--Niall--thinks I can defeat him.
"That's...insane," I mutter, staring around at the others. "He's, uh, really powerful. Why would he think that?"
"That would be one of the ten million freaking things we don't know," Faith sighs, running her hands through her hair. "All we found out was that he came into town specifically to get a look at you."
I shake my head again and look at Olson. "What, exactly, did you hear?"
Olson frowns, pausing to think. "That Niall was told there was a witch in town who could defeat him, and that the witch should take priority over the Slayer."
It's my turn to frown. "It...it doesn't make sense," I say with exasperation. "I *can't*."
Olson nods. "I thought not. Which means that he was purposely fed false information."
"How the hell did you get there from here?" Faith bites out. "She helped take out those vamps. That could be why she's seen as a threat."
Both Olson and I shake our heads. "The magic she used for that doesn't hint at the type of power Niall thinks she has," Olson replies.
"Power?" Spike repeats slowly. "What if it's about what she did when she had Will's power?"
"Doesn't fly," Josh answers immediately. "Those Arcepts have been bitching far and wide that Tara did the Cerno and kept them from getting Willow's magic. Everyone knows she doesn't have it anymore."
"I heard something else," Faith admits. "Something like the Owl of Shaltan."
"Owl?" Josh repeats dubiously.
"Not who-who owl. Something ending with that sound." She crosses her arms defensively. "He had tusks, and he wasn't easy to understand."
"Cowl," Spike tells us. "The Cowl of Shaltan. Niall thinks it's here and accessible?"
Faith shrugs. "All I know is he's had some of his lackeys sniffing around for it."
"We'll have to look into it," Olson says decisively.
"Don't bother," Spike says, going to the table and taking a seat. "It's not here and it's not accessible." We're all staring at him and he rubs the back of his neck. "It's the crest of a high Latzal demon, and it's currently on its owner's head in New Orleans. Nothing short of the bugger taking it off voluntarily, putting it on Niall's head, and muttering some words, will get it off or make it useful to."
"Um, confused," I say. "Why would Niall want it?"
"Cowl offers invulnerability to its wearer," Spike states. "It's a Latzal trinket, but it can work on other species. If they get permission. Can't wrest it away from the bloke, can't kill him to get it." He frowns in consideration. "Suppose he could abandon it--leave it up for anyone willing to take it. But as of a week ago it was on the Latzal and he wasn't entertaining the idea of sending it off into the wild."
Faith seems as confused, worried and frustrated as we all are. "So Niall got sent out to catch jackanapes?"
"So it seems," Olson sighs, sitting next to me and pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead. "He was sent to Sunnydale, for something that is not here and is rather useless to him even if it were. He was most likely told that taking control of the Hellmouth was the best way of gaining it. More alarmingly, he was also told that Tara is his biggest threat."
I don't like the implications of that at all. Josh leans around me to look at Olson. "Are you trying to say that someone wants her dead, and went through all of this to get it?" he asks carefully.
"I'm not saying anything," Olson mutters as he drops his hands from his face and sinks back onto the couch. "Except that Niall has been manipulated into coming here, and targeting Tara. I doubt he's aware of it, and I doubt this is actually about killing Tara." He flashes me a brief, reassuring smile. "There are far simpler ways to go about that."
"We have no way of knowing what it's about," I say with frustration. "I mean, if you think about it? Niall probably got all of this information from that seer who Giles can't find out anything about."
Faith gets to her feet and tucks the stake at the small of her back. "Not acceptable," she says resolutely. "Our entire plan is *not* going to be to dust Niall."
Spike frowns at her. "Why the hell not?"
"Because he might not show up again," she reminds him, then looks at Olson. "We need to know who Niall powwowed with."
"I agree, but how?"
"There's a way, and we'll figure it out," Faith announces to us, no arguments allowed. "Until then, we keep Tara safe and we dust Niall if he shows his face."
Josh shifts next to me and rolls his eyes. "And we hope that the million people in this town who know where to find you don't tell Niall's goons, and that they don't come to burn you and Tara out."
"Just like we do on a day to day basis," Faith says coolly, then turns to Olson again. "Call Giles. Get every scrap of information he has on that meeting--rumors, guesses, whatever. We need it fast, too."
There's a noise from Josh. He doesn't look all that pleased. "Great. You just know that he's going to come running over to 'help'."
Faith's face tightens and she strides of to us and stares down at Josh. "I don't give a crap about Giles' issues with us, ours with him, or whether or not he comes here," she says slowly. "We need all the help we can get. Period."
It actually is a Slayocracy around here rather often. When Faith gets this way--all ordering and serious and on-the-ball--we just go with what she says. I think it's a Slayer thing, that attitude. Whether it's *why* someone gets Chosen, or if it's *part* of getting Chosen, doesn't matter. It's there. The commanding presence and the intensity that has people obeying with very little questions.
I think she should use it a lot more, but generally she just voices her opinions in a Faith way, instead of a Slayer way. That's what leads her to getting overruled. And the reason she uses it sparingly is because she feels inadequate a lot of time. I mean, she knows she's a Slayer, and she knows she's good at it. But the rest of the stuff? Strategizing, leading, making decisions that affect others and could result in injury or death? She doesn't think she has a right to do that, because that was what Buffy had a right to do. Not Faith.
Faith is staring around the apartment at the decorations, and I realize with a start that it's Christmas Eve. Our plan for tomorrow was devised in such a way as to give Josh and Olson the day alone together, and allow Faith to sleep in until her usual sunset. Festivities are slated to start just after dusk.
"We're postponing Christmas."
To my surprise, it's Josh that speaks up. "The fuck we are. It's bad enough we're hiding away, we're not letting them screw up our Christmas."
Olson sighs and cranes his head back to look at Josh. "We're in the middle-- "
"Something is always going on. We're not letting that something be *everything*." Josh looks around and then nods. "New plan: Eric and I will go to our place in the morning to get our presents, then come back so he and Tara can do the cooking. We'll confine the festivities to daylight, and we can talk about and plan for what's going on. But not while we eat, and not while we're exchanging gifts. I think it's a fair enough compromise."
There's a whole lot of silence after that, and it's because Josh is the last person any of us would have expected to take up the Christmas cause. Finally, Spike speaks up. "Pretty boy has a point. Shouldn't let them take anything from you."
"All right," Faith grudgingly agrees, her eyes on me. Then they narrow, and she turns to Spike. "I need to know if you can do this."
His face twists. "Christmas?"
"Fight," she counters. "Because what I saw the other night in the cemetery? Not Spike fighting."
"He was injured," I remind her, but she shakes her head and doesn't remove her gaze from Spike.
"You know what I'm talking about," she tells him. "And it's fine if you can't. I just need to know what to expect is all."
Spike's face gets really tight and thin, and the muscle at his jaw jumps. "Good question," he says darkly, then gets to his feet. "I'm going out."
I make a noise and rise. Olson puts a hand on my arm to stop me from following after Spike. "Tara, I don't think that's a good idea," he says flatly.
I shake his hand off and run out of the apartment. It takes me a few moments to catch sight of him, and I call out his name as I jog his way. He comes to a stop and waits for me, and when I get to his side, his eyes are glittering like shards of broken glass.
"You shouldn't have brought me here," he grinds out.
I close my eyes and feel the tears welling up. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to...help."
"Help?" he rasps out, a bitter laugh following the word. My eyes open. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. "You think this is helping me? This damn soul didn't come with an instruction booklet, Tara. All I wanted to do was figure the bloody thing out, not get dragged into the middle of this mess."
"I didn't know what to do," I tell him softly. "I--Khentimentiu said you needed my help. I had to do something, and I didn't know this, uh, mess was going to happen. I didn't mean to...to make it worse."
His lips curl. "Well, guess what, pet? You did." He tosses his hands up in frustration, then tangles them through his hair. "Can you even comprehend what it's like?" he asks intently.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head.
"It's like getting ripped apart," he hisses, stalking towards me. I swallow and stare at him. "Getting sliced up from the inside with conflicting urges." He stops just a few inches from me, and my hands start shaking. "And you can't just expect me to be able to *ignore* it. To go out and fight like none of it is going on. It takes everything I've got to keep a hold on myself."
I duck my head and let the tears fall. For all that he's done for me, he didn't deserve this in return. "You should...you should leave," I say thickly, backing away. "I'm sorry. And I know that doesn't make anything better. But I am. So sorry. I won't--I won't bother you again. I swear."
Turning, I run back towards the apartment. He doesn't call after me, and he doesn't try to catch me. I'm a fool. A really big fool. I thought I could return his favor, help him like he helped me. I thought I knew him well enough that I would know how to do it. Instead I've just complicated everything for him.
When I rush back into the apartment, the conversation fades away and everyone looks at me. I'm still crying, and all I can really do is just shake my head at them before I drag myself upstairs. Once there, I look around, lost as to what to do. I slink into my room and take my coat off, then curl up on my bed.
Olson comes by to check on me, but I ask him to leave me alone for the moment. I've been crying, and I'm tired, and I'm worried, and I'm suddenly asleep thanks to the stress.
I wake up to the disturbing sensation of not being alone any longer. My eyes fly open and I sit up, only relaxing when I see Spike sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me. Fear is replaced by confusion, and an absolute lack of words. The lights are off and I can't see him clearly. But even I don't need preternatural senses to pick up on two things: the musky scent of sex is clinging to him, as well as the acrid smell of liquor. I'm not sure what to say, so I don't say anything.
"We're pretty good nowadays at not letting on how bloody fucked up we are," he says after a while.
I laugh. I can't help it. "No we're not, actually," I say around the amusement. "We just think we are."
He turns his head, light from the window illuminating the side of his face enough for me to see the wry grin on his lips. "Maybe so," he concedes. "So I think my issues are stunningly clear, pet. What are yours, eh?"
I sit up a little more and lean my head against the wall behind the bed. "Hm, well according to my shrink? I have this compulsion to fix people. It has to do with the way...Glory made me, um, unfix people. You know?"
Spike shifts around until he's facing me and arches a brow. "Yeah? Think you got off easier than me."
"Guess I was due for a break," I say with a shrug, then I touch his arm and take a breath. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have presumed...well, anything."
"Hell, Tara," he sighs. "You could be right. Not really the point."
My smile is more than a little sad. "I know; it's up to you to get there. I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that," he grumbles. "Heard you the first forty times." My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I see him purse his lips and scowl at me. "I do just want to point out that I never tried to *fix* you, even at your worst."
I duck my head, because he's right. He never did try to fix me, just stayed by my side while I figured it all out. "Do you--do you need money?" I ask him. "To go, I mean. I don't have much, but I'm sure Olson--"
"I'm not leaving."
That kind of takes the wind out of my sails, and I'm not sure if it's good or bad. "Oh. Okay." I fiddle with the blanket bunched at my waist. "But, why not? I thought...I mean, the way you said..."
He sighs, and nudges me over on the bed, then swings his legs up and crosses his arms under his head. "Got nice and lit," he tells the ceiling. "Stole myself a car and started driving out of town. Didn't get very far."
I look up at the ceiling as well, and ask it, "Was that before or after the sex?" There's a long, surprised silence, and my lips twist. "Even a human nose can smell it. Plus, kind of your M.O. from what Faith's told me. You know, when you're...out of sorts."
"It was after," he admits reluctantly, something very annoyed creeping into his voice. "And speaking of Faith, what's the deal there? You two diving for muff?"
The ceiling is presented with my fiercest glare while Spike receives a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Faith is straight," I remind him. "Very, very straight."
He snickers, and I know he's about to bring up her random hops over the fence. "Except when she's bendy," he drawls and I have to roll my eyes. "So, have you plowed that--"
"Don't finish that sentence," I say sharply, turning away from the ceiling to scowl at him. "Things are about as sexual between me and Faith as they are between me and you."
A look of profound disappointment crosses his face. "Damn. Guess that means I should stop listening outside the door, then." My eyes widen and I gape at him, but he just winks and smirks, leaving me know idea of whether or not he's joking.
He pulls one arm out from under his head and brushes my hair back from my face. "She's a little possessive of you, is why I asked."
I scoot down the bed and lay on my side, propping my head up with my hand. "Hm. Faith isn't...used to having people in her life," I explain carefully. " And she generally has me to herself." He laughs, and there's something to it that conveys he knows how much of an understatement my words are. I stare at his profile and take a breath. "Spike?" He turns his head to the side and watches me. "Why...why didn't you leave?"
His eyes go to the ceiling again. "Really wanted to," he says shortly. "But I didn't keep you alive during our globe trotting just to let some poncey vamp take you out. When he's taken care of..."
"Thank you."
He shrugs uncomfortably and then sits up. "Let's get downstairs. Olson was on the phone with Giles when I got in. Might be something new."
***
Giles doesn't have anything new, per se. Just more details on Niall, including what I already figured out--that his magic gets drained quickly. He's also pretty strong, which Spike already figured out after fighting him. Niall is, after all, three hundred, which is older than Spike. With the magic, and his strength, and the number of vamps he can transport, it'll most likely take all of us to kill him. He also tells Olson that he'll get any information--however sketchy--on the meeting between Niall and the seer.
Olson tells Spike and me all of this as soon as we get downstairs, and he does his very best not to seem curious about Spike's departure, my crying, or Spike's reappearance. He fails, of course, because Watchers have some kind of built in desire to know things. But the fact that he tries, and that he doesn't ask, is really appreciated.
Faith's eyes are hooded as they travel from Spike, to me, and back again. "What's the call?"
Spike arches a brow. "I can do it," he says simply.
For a moment, Faith studies him dubiously, but then she nods in apparently satisfaction before going to the couch and flopping down next to Josh. Who, I notice, is munching on what looks suspiciously like the mini Snickers Crunchers from his stocking. Sure enough, when I look over it's obvious that he's rifled through it.
"Those are supposed to be for Christmas," I tell him wryly, moving to sit on his other side.
"I'm the male Slayer," he says importantly. "That gives me leave to plunder my own Christmas stocking a whole four hours before Christmas."
He holds out one to me and I take it, unwrapping the treat and realizing that I'm actually pretty hungry. I have no interest in rustling anything up, so I look at Josh. "I'm hungry. What about you?"
He nods, and Faith pipes in with, "I'm fucking starving."
They both stared at me for a long moment, and when it becomes obvious that I'm not about to get up and provide anyone with food, the pair of them zero in on Olson, who is busy quietly conversing with Spike at the table.
"Baaaaby," Josh singsongs, and Olson looks over with a grimace of annoyance. Endearments really aren't his thing. "We're hungry." He pouts cutely. "And battered." He flutters his eyelashes. "And willing to trade sexual favors for food."
I choke on my Snickers Cruncher, and Faith reaches across Josh to pound on my back. "Speak for your damn self," she snorts at Josh.
"Please," Josh retorts as I brush Faith away. "Like you don't think Eric is do-able."
"Can we please end this conversation now?" Olson says testily.
But we can't, because Faith has something to add. "Do-able has nothing to do with it," she says with a smirk, and a confident gleam in her eyes. "I just don't think he'd get the full effect of the experience seeing as how he's all about the co--"
"I'll feed you only if you stop right now," Olson says a little desperately.
Faith and Josh wink at each other. "Deal," they say simultaneously.
See, this is part of the reason I generally offer food, rather than waiting to be asked. And if I am asked, I generally say yes right away. It just goes better.
Olson bypasses the leftovers--which are seriously dwindling due to the amount of times everyone has eaten here in the last few days--and whips up some omelets for us. For the moment we're not in the midst of anything, even if just how much we are in the midst of something is visible in the way we stick close to prevent the shocking from the Leviglio and how we very carefully don't mention that we're in the middle of anything.
It passes quickly, and we're left in a thick silence that carries tension, fear and worry. For a while we discuss the situation at hand, but all we end up doing is just going in circles. We don't really have enough information about anything to talk about it...and even though I find myself more and more thinking that something about all of this is really off, I can't pinpoint how.
Faith is on edge. She's tensing and turning her eyes towards every random sound, and she's checking every few minutes to make sure her stake hasn't moved from the small of her back, where it's tucked in her waistband.
Spike is quieter than normal, and is frowning a lot. Josh keeps humming Christmas carols under his breath, the glint in his eyes making it obvious he's doing it less for the spirit of the holiday and more to thumb his nose at Niall. Olson looks to be one step away from clamping his hand over Josh's mouth if he even considers breaking into song. As for me, I'm trying to not think about the fact that someone has sicced Niall on me, and trying to stop thinking about what's off about all of this; I've learned from experience that the answer comes only after I stop seeking it.
All in all, we're a rather moody lot, and I'm still tired from my crying jag. So a few minutes after midnight, after Josh tries to ring in the holiday with an off-key rendition of *Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer* and Olson effectively muzzles him, I turn in for the night. I hear Josh and Olson come up half an hour later and make their way to Faith's room, and I'm asleep not long after.
I wake in the middle of the night for no reason that I can determine. I didn't have a nightmare, and although Faith and Spike aren't being quiet downstairs in the living room, they're not being overly loud. From what I can ascertain, they're playing video games. Which is...well, it should seem odd, and it does. But at the same time it's really normal and it makes me smile.
The clock on my bedside table reads three in the morning, and I wish that Faith were already snoozing on the empty sleeping bag at the foot of the bed. Because waking her for Christmas tomorrow? Not going to be fun.
But there's no reason I should have woken up, and what's even stranger is that I keep looking at the mirror over my dresser. Am I expecting Khentimentiu to appear in it, like he did when Spike got his soul? I honestly don't know. But it's another thing to add to the various vague things floating in my head and waiting to coalesce into something tangible.
Sighing, I lie down again and go back to sleep.
***
The phone rings at eight in the morning. I know who it is without having to think very hard about it. Faith makes an ill-tempered growling noise from the sleeping bag and I snatch the phone from my bedside table.
"Merry Christmas, Dawnie."
"Tara!" she squeals. "Merry Christmas."
I leave Faith in the sleeping bag because she's already sleeping, and then head downstairs, making sure to take the last of the presents from my closet. Dawn is chatting away a mile a minute in my ear, and I smile as I offer up the requisite "yes, I'm listening" sounds. It usually takes a while before Dawn gears down to actual conversation.
The living room is empty. Josh and Olson probably headed to their place at first light and sent Spike upstairs to Faith's room. Musical beds. I set the presents under the tree and then sit down and just...bask in Dawn.
She is probably the most amazing person I've ever met. Really. Through all the pain and death and loss, there's emerged a young woman who is wise and mature, but still so young and silly. It's awe-inspiring.
It also makes me wonder how it happened. Because from what I understood, Dawn and her father weren't on very good terms before Spike sent her to live with him. That's changed, though. I don't think she'll ever be as close to him as she was before the divorce, or as close as she was to Joyce, but there's actually a relationship there now.
I missed out on its development, on account of being...um, insane when it was occurring. And I've never really been sure how to ask Dawn about it. When I first got back, she was a bit confused and sad because of cutting Spike out of her life. After she sorted that all out, I was hesitant to bring up another sensitive subject.
"Oh my god! I love you, I love you, I love you!" Dawn says excitedly after she opens my gift. "This is the best present ever. None can surpass it."
"This" is a DVD box set of the first season of her favorite show, a prime time soap/drama aimed at girls her age called "The Poconos". She's forced me to watch it a time or two, and I can't really see the appeal. But, then again, I'm sure adults said that about "Beverly Hills 90210" when I watched it.
"I saved the receipt in case you want to exchange it," I say with a grin.
"Exchange it?" she repeats incredulously. "That's just crazy talk."
She goes silent, probably worried that the crazy talk comment hit a little too close to home. "I was just teasing. I'm glad you like it. Can I open mine now?"
Dawn bounces right back into her holiday cheer. "Yes! Open it now, because Dad's taking me out to breakfast and we have to leave soon."
I dig around under the tree and find the brightly wrapped package that came in the mail last week from Dawn. There's a mountain of bows and curled ribbon on it, and it takes me five minutes and a pair of scissors to actually get them all off.
And when I do, I break into a huge smile. It's a mini portable MP3 player. I mentioned in passing after I re-enrolled at Sunnydale U that it was hard to study at the apartment because I needed music, but Faith was generally sleeping when I studied. And my Walkman is a tape player, and pretty much ancient.
"Dawnie! It's wonderful!"
"Do you like it?" she frets. "I mean, you're not just saying that?"
"Not at all. Now I can listen to music I like, instead of my old Tiffany tapes."
She laughs and we catch each other up before she has to leave for breakfast. I don't mention Spike, though I'm tempted to spill the beans and force his hand. But, you know, I can't really disregard a lesson I just learned last night.
Giles calls not long after, and our conversation isn't nearly as pleasant after the holiday wishes are done.
"Tara, why didn't you mention when we last spoke that Spike was back? And with a soul?" he asks guardedly.
I'm getting a little annoyed with the way people seem to think that I'm Spike's mouthpiece and that they have a right to know everything about him that I know. Which, yes, considering I wanted to tell Dawn about it all is a bit...contrary.
I head into the kitchen and start pulling out the pots and other implements required for the Chocolate Truffle Torte. "I, uh, wasn't sure he wanted you to know," I say plainly.
"Yes, well, while I understand that, I am still responsible for monitoring all of you for the Council. This type of information can't be held back."
I set down a pot more forcefully than necessary. "A visit from Spike is vital information?" I ask dubiously.
"A visit? He's not going to be staying?"
"No. As soon as...Niall is taken care of? He's leaving."
Giles seems nonplussed by this. "Oh, well, then. Good. If, er, his plans change and he decides to stay, I'll need to know." He took a breath. "The Council...suffice it to say that if they believe Faith to be keeping things from them, they would not react well."
There are a few reasons everyone is so understanding of Giles' situation and subsequent attitude, even though they're not the most understanding of groups normally. First, they know how close he was to Buffy, Xander, Willow and Anya. Second, he doesn't exactly have the nicest history with Faith. Third, despite the not nice history, he's the one who went to bat for her to the Council. He might say that it was out of necessity. That the Hellmouth needed a Slayer and she was all that was left. But if he'd honestly thought Faith couldn't handle the job, he wouldn't have done it.
And we all know that he still does stand up for her. It wasn't so long ago that a team of Watchers had been dispatched to, well, dispatch her. Giles supports her, even if he doesn't advertise that fact. But we know, because Faith is still here, and if it were up to the Council alone, she wouldn't be.
"We'll let you know right away if he changes his plans," I assure him quietly, then decide a change of subject is in order. "Did you, um, like your gift?"
"Very much so," he says immediately. "It was very thoughtful of you. But, really, I can't accept it. It must have cost a great deal, and you're in college again. You need to save your money."
"No, you have to accept it," I insist. "The problems with my scholarship? You know, since I kind of went AWOL? They seem to have...disappeared."
"Disappeared?" he repeats, confused.
"Hm. Strangely enough, it was after I mentioned it to Olson. I think he, uh, did something. He's got all those contacts because of his family. So I got the money I already paid refunded, and since I don't have to pay rent..."
"Tara," he says sternly. "You sent me a sixteenth century edition of Polit's Demonology. I am quite aware of the going rate for it. I shall send it back to you, but the thought means a lot to me."
"I got a discount. A, uh, huge discount." I do the math in my head while I upend a package of chocolate chips into a pan. "About...seventy percent."
"Seventy percent? Really?"
"Mm hm. The shop in Los Angeles where I looked up the Cerno? It's run by a really nice witch named Emily. She was impressed that I did it. And lived." That last part is the important part, because I'm the only documented success story for the ritual. "I put her and Josh in touch. She wanted to thank me because she's managed to save a lot of money using some of the Magic Box's suppliers, so...discount."
"Exorbitant discount," Giles say with shock. "Goodness. That's...well, then, I suppose I'll keep it. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Speaking of gifts, I have spoken to the delivery company, and they have tracked down my package for you. It should be there the day after tomorrow."
Olson and Josh get back just as I'm hanging up with Giles. "Anything new?" Olson asks, setting a bag overflowing with wrapped presents by the tree.
"No. But he's meeting with a contact of his today, so he'll call us after," I say.
Josh gives me a hug that lifts me off the ground, then grabs my hand and drags me to the Santa hats by the tree. I set his on his head, he sets mine on my head, and we grab Faith's before heading up the stairs. We hurry down the hall and he throws my bedroom door open. It slams against the wall behind it and Faith bolts into a sitting position, a knife in her hand. She tosses it aside when she sees us tripping towards her, giggling.
I plop the Santa hat on her head while Josh tickles her ribs and screams, "Merry Christmas!"
Poor Faith. I think she thought we'd let her sleeping until it was time to eat. She's staring at us uncomprehendingly, and is blinking very slowly. Josh and I each take one of her hands and pull her to her feet.
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbles, but she's trying not to smile in the face of our enthusiasm. Josh was right. There is too much daylight in our lives to just focus on the night. We trip into the hall, Josh and I towing Faith along, and I stop to look at Faith's door.
Faith's eyes widen. "You're nuts," she says incredulously. "Fucking nuts."
I look at Josh and a smirk appears on his face. "Think he sleeps nekkid?" he asks, tugging us to the door. He shoves me of front of them and nods. "Why don't you check on that, Ta? In the interest of..."
"Perversion?" I supply, wryly.
Faith shrugs. "Perversion, science. Same diff."
I roll my eyes. "I really don't have an interest at all."
"But we do," Josh says firmly. "And you're the only one he won't kill. Go."
"Fine," I sigh. Turning to the door, I smile. "Spike, what's the answer?" I ask in a normal voice.
"Yes, but I'm decently covered up now," he calls back, snickering.
Faith and Josh sulk a little as I chuckle and open the door. "Keen hearing," I remind them a little smugly.
Spike refuses to be drawn into the holiday cheer, despite Josh's attempts. But that's okay, because Faith doesn't seem to hate it, and that was really the point of it all. He does agree to come downstairs and join us while we partake of the cheer.
And, boy, do we partake. Josh seems to have made it his mission to force us to focus on the Christmas part of the day, rather than on the current Hellmouth events. And, you know, I'm not really complaining. It's a lot more enjoyable to engage in a tinsel fight with Josh than it is to discuss why someone is trying to kill me. It's also a lot more enjoyable to watch Spike slip into vamp face when Josh tries to wrap a line of garland around his neck. But, that's probably because I'm not the one getting growled at.
Faith falls asleep after we eat the ham Olson made, and we let her nap while I finish baking the torte. Then we eat slabs of dense chocolate goodness while we rip open gifts. Some of them are gag gifts, which is to be expected. But I really could have done without the...interestingly shaped, uh, "personal massager" that Josh made me open in front of everyone. I don't know if I'll be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.
Other than that, the gifts are pretty routine. They consist of normal Christmas givings--like CDs, and clothes, and witchcraft paraphernalia. Spike seems a bit embarrassed to take my offerings, and mutters something about not having any of his own. I wave that aside and tell him to open them. I replaced a couple of CDs that were stolen from his crypt that summer he stayed at Giles' with the rest of us, and got him a small bottle of high end tequila that cost more than Giles' rare book did.
And it turns out that the subject of Niall doesn't come up at all once Giles calls to say that his contact could provide no helpful information other than what he already knew. I consider this at around nine in the evening, when we're lazing on the sofa and loveseat watching *The Long Kiss Goodnight*, which is the only "Christmas" movie Faith would agree to watch. I think about bringing it up, but I don't want to. Maybe it's foolish. Stupid, even. But it's Christmas, and we're enjoying it.
There's time enough tomorrow for horror.
***