Chapter Six: Keep the Faith
Faith was melting into Buffy's fiercely demanding, passionately burning kiss. She responds instinctively meeting desire with desire, heat for heat as her hands graze almost roughly over the blondes smooth, taut skin. Buffy's hands aren't idle either as they roam over Faith's body trying to pull the brunette closer to her.
Each second that speeds by Faith can feel her blood heating, boiling. Her passion builds as her desire mounts and her control vanishes. This is something she's been dreaming about since first meeting the blonde all those months ago.
Only this isn't the way she wants it. Not like this.
It almost feels like Buffy. This slightly rougher, but still undeniably beautiful, vibrant, sensual woman. Only this isn't how Buffy would go about keeping her from working for the Mayor.
No, Buffy would try kicking her ass or giving her one of those long winded speeches about right and wrong. She would never try throwing herself at Faith, prostituting herself more or less, to pull her away from Wilkens.
Still the feel of Buffy's hands blazing a trail along her skin, even through her shirt, her fingers gliding along Buffy's silken skin that covers the hard muscles underneath, their lips pressing together, tongues dueling as they try to delve deeper into each other, devour each other whole, is an intoxicating, heady, mind numbing experience.
With a loud grunt and a hard shove Faith finally manages to push Buffy away. She thinks it might have been easier, not to mention less painful if she had tried to rip her own arm off. With a tight glare she scowls at the breathless blonde who gawks back, her own breathes were coming in short gasps. "What the hell are you doing?" She screams at her.
Buffy blinks slightly, her chest heaving as she tries to regain her breath, stunned by Faith's reaction. She had been sure Faith had wanted this as much as she did. In fact she knows Faith wants this, she can still feel it. A light buzz that zings along her skin. "You want it, the same as me. Tell me I'm wrong," she challenges the brunette.
Faith's eyes harden as she gazes at the blonde. "I'm not some whore that you can use to scratch your itch," she snarls maliciously.
"That's not..."
"And I'm not some stray fucking dog for you to pat and treat nice and expect me to be at your beck and call," she continues cutting Buffy off before she could get going.
"God," Buffy snarls at her stepping back into Faith's personal space. "That is not what I was trying to do."
"Sure it is," Faith spits out. "Can see the little wheels spinning in your head, thinking if I can screw her so hard she sees nothing but stars I'll have her wrapped around my fingers and get her to do anything..."
Buffy's eyes go wide as her nostrils flare in anger. "You..." She growls angrily an instant before her right hook comes out of nowhere leveling Faith, dropping her to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Faith stares up into the blistering light green eyes of one very enraged slayer. The brunette can't remember a time when she has seen anybody angrier in her life. Her step father, maybe, but she doesn't think so.
"You," she growls again in the same tone of voice. "Ever since I met you I've felt something pulling me to you. Something I've never felt before, with anyone. Yeah, I hate the fact that working," she sneers at the word, "for that abomination, but if its what you feel you have to do. Fine, feel free," she finishes roughly. With a final glare she stalks past Faith, across the floor and out the door without another word.
Faith stares at the spot the petite blond had just vacated momentarily stunned by what she had just said. Shaking her head she springs to her feet, rushing towards the door all in one smooth motion. After what she said she knows she owes the blonde an apology, then again Buffy needs to explain what she was trying to do, not the what. That's something Faith knows all too well, but why she was doing it here and now. Then there were some of the things she said. It was hard to believe one Buffy could be attracted to her while the other one can't stand having her in the same town.
Pulling open the door she burst out into the street but there was no sign of her anywhere. Spinning all around she still doesn't see the blonde. It didn't really surprise her. Buffy seems to have that talent of being able to disappear when she wants to.
"Shit!" She blurts out turning in another small circle taking a swiping kick at the building and cracking its outer wall. "Way to go Faith, way to fucking go."
Willow huddles, with her knees drawn to her chest, on Angel's- Puppy, in her mind- leather sofa. She had finally allowed him to convince her that she didn't need to be chained to the wall. After that she had changed out of her sleek, black leather body suit and into some of the fluffy clothes her human counterpart had brought for her. She knew Angel would be more apt to lower his defenses around her if he saw her more like this reality's Willow.
Thus, the clothes, the whole I'm evil and should just be staked because I can never be redeemed act. She was exceedingly glad they hadn't taken her up on that. She would've had to think fast and talk even faster to keep them from following through on it.
"Here you go," Angel says from the side as he hands her a large coffee cup. Willow grimaces at the foul smelling pig's blood. Noticing her face Angel adds, "I heated it up... So if you drink it down quickly you shouldn't notice the taste."
Willow takes the offered mug. It smells like sewage water to her, but she also knows she doesn't have a choice in the matter. Besides in a few days, a week at most she'll make sure Angel convinces her that she can be outside on her own. Then she'll be able to get something good to eat.
Lifting the cup to her lips she tosses the contents down her throat and somehow manages not to gag on the swill. "How can you stomach this?" She blurts out before she can stop herself. For a moment she thinks she's sunk her own plan before it has truly begun.
Angel however simply sits on the edge of the sofa next to her taking a small sip of his supper. "It takes some getting use to but its better then rats," he tells her simply.
If she had to breath she would have let out a relieved sigh at that point. Instead she looks at Angel with soft eyes as she asks, "how much getting use to?"
The older vampire shrugs for a moment before he replies softly saying, "a lot."
Willow frowns slightly, a look of concern marring her face. "How do you do it? Suppress the demon, keep it from breaking free?"
"Take one day at a time, one hour, one minute," Angel answers. After a moment he adds, "you have to stay calm, not let the little things get to you." As he places a reassuring hand on her knee he continues, "it isn't going to be easy, but you can do it."
The tiny girl gives her head a sharp jerk shaking her vibrant red hair. "I don't know if I can," she pleads quietly.
"You can," Angel assures her as a tear slides down her cheek. Smoothly he gathers her up in his strong arms, gently stroking her hair he says, "we all believe in you. Me, Willow, Buffy, Xander. All of us are here for you."
"It's just," Buffy groans softly as she settles her tray of questionable looking food on the cafeteria table. "There's something about her I don't trust."
A small scowl slips onto Willow's face as she sits down across from Buffy. "You sure it isn't Angel with me," she gives her head a slight shake as she corrects herself, "her you don't trust?"
The blonde gives her best friend a slight dejected shrug as she uses her fork to push the food around the plate. "I don't know," she admits softly. "Maybe," she adds looking up. "Its just maddening seeing Angel hold somebody, comfort them, make them feel better when he can't do the same for me."
"It's Willow though," Xander remarks holding a fork full of food up a few inches above his plate. "You can't think that Angel would be putting the moves on Willow, or that Wills would go for it even if he tries. She wouldn't do something like that to you."
"Our Willow wouldn't do that," Oz disagrees. "Don't forget, we don't really know anything about her. We all just assumed she was going to be like our Willow here."
"And she's not," Buffy adds glad to have at least one person who agrees with her. "I just think we should be careful around her for awhile anyway, until we find out if she's trustworthy." Seeing the looks on both Xander and Willow's faces she adds a whining, "please."
Buffy ruthlessly lashes out with her foot kicking the shin high granite headstone protruding from the lush green grass knocking the marker askew.
She couldn't believe she had been fool enough to throw herself at Faith like that. It was just about the dumbest thing she had ever done.
Cheek that.
It was the most hair brained decision she has ever made.
Again her foot makes contact with another headstone knocking it out of the ground.
What else had she thought Faith was going to think, going to do? Had she really believed that Faith was just going to...
What?
Make love to her. Be hers. Only hers.
Did she honestly think Faith was just going to walk away from the Mayor for her?
She wants Faith away from the Mayor. Faith knew that, knows it. She knows it, everyone knows it, well everyone that knew Faith was working for the Mayor anyway. It wasn't like she was making a big secret out of it.
It didn't keep her from making a fool of herself though.
Throwing herself at Faith like some love sick little girl. Admitting that she wants Faith to be her first. If that didn't make her the king of fools she didn't know what would.
She kicks the edge of a large mausoleum dislodging a corner stone.
As she comes around the side of the crypt she suddenly feels the presence of at least two demons nearby. Closer to her then they should have been able to get normally. Squinting her eyes slightly she realizes she has been sensing them for some time now, but she was so upset over her mishandling, her fumbling of the situation with Faith this morning that she had been pushing everything else aside.
Angry at herself for letting her personal problems affect her duty she bolts in the direction the demons are without the slightest hesitation. In a bare handful of seconds Buffy hits her stride looking like a blurring cheetah as she covers the quarter mile.
Two demons, large ones with a scaly, blue tinted hide. A ridge of small needle like spines runs from the top of their skulls to the middle of their backs. Broad shoulders, with a large curving bone spike jutting from each shoulder. Their arms, like their legs are long, with thick roping muscles. Their fingers as well as their toes are tipped with razor sharp talons.
Their single piece of clothing is a simple kilt made from hundreds of strips of hard leather. It vaguely reminds her of something she had seen in a history book back when she went to high school. It was like what Roman legionnaires wore into battle.
One man lay slumped over a thick, knee high marble headstone. Another was crumpled at the base of a large marble altar. If either of them were still alive she couldn't tell.
She almost feels sorry for them. Maybe she would have if she didn't come from a world where, in some places, a candy bar was more expensive then a human life. Or if she hadn't been forced to kill her share of humans over the years.
As far as she is concerned, if they were dead then their battle was done and the most she could do for them is avenge them. If they've somehow manage to stay alive then they'll be saved along with their three friends, two attractive middle aged women and a roly-poly man that looks like an accountant. Between the two demons they were being swatted around like rag dolls.
Buffy was mildly surprised to see that anyone was still alive considering how long they must have been trying to fend off the two demons while she wondered around in a fog. If the two men were dead more then likely it was her fault for not getting here quick enough.
For allowing her problems to interfere with her job.
She couldn't allow any of it to effect her now.
Not her feelings towards Faith. Not the fact she wasn't here in time to save people that could have been saved. None of it.
She had to be cool, emotionless, an efficient killing machine dedicated to eradicating demon kind wherever she found them.
Still it was going to make her feel so much better to cut loose on a pair of demons. Work out her anger and frustration over such a lousy day.
With a silent snarl, her right foot pushes of a thigh high cross carved from white granite, she launches herself into the air. Her flying side kick connects with one of the demon's jaw with bone crushing force.
All three of them go down in a heap. Rolling with her fall she comes up on her feet as do the two demons.
The closest one takes a back hand swipe at her face. She ducks underneath the blow, twirling in a tight circle on the ball of her right foot, her left leg extending to clip him just below his calf, then snapping back in and jerking him off his feet.
He lands on the ground with a solid thud just as the second demon tackles her to the ground. They roll over several times before coming to a stop with her on top. She jerks her hand back slightly to deliver a sharp blow to his neck.
She feels a sharp twinge in her side just under her raised right arm. Its not even something she really registers as the demon manages to block her punch. Catching the blow on it's scaly forearm. A moment later it's sharp claws rake across her face opening several shallow gashes along her cheeks. The force of the blow is enough to send her reeling back.
As she flips to her feet, her body feeling sluggish, she knows she should have been able to see that blow coming, not to mention blocked it before it ever got to her.
Another sharp pin prick jabs into her left lower back just above her hip. Instinctively she swats at the spot dislodging a tranquilizer dart as she spins around taking in all of her enemies.
The two demons had backed off slightly, obviously planning on giving the drugs a chance to kick in before taking another shot at her. The five humans though all had her in the cross hairs of their high tech dart guns. The three that had been fending off the demons were holding pistols while the two she thought might be dead are armed with scoped rifles.
Relying on years of intensive training she consciously starts pumping adrenaline into her system hoping its just a sedative filling the darts. If not she can only hope her natural slayer metabolism will help her body reject whatever agent is in her blood stream.
One of the woman fires just before the other two pistol wielders. Buffy swats that dart aside with a contemptuous sneer, glad that her eyesight was still as good as ever. Before the other two darts can reach her she breaks into a sprint heading for the nearest rifleman. The two darts whiz past just barely missing her. A fourth dart lodges in her right quad as she dodges the darts being fired at her from the man she is charging.
She can tell that whatever drugs, sedatives, poisons, or mixture the darts are filled with are extremely powerful as it seems to take her forever to reach the rifleman. With each step closer she can hear the darts whip past her, occasionally she can almost feel the breeze the create as the past within inches, if not closer to her flesh.
The rifleman rises smoothly to his feet, like the professional soldier he is, once he has fired the last shot he was going to get off at her before she reaches him. A shot she seems to slip as if she was watching it come at her in slow motion. He didn't know how she was still on her feet after being hit by just one dart much less the two, maybe three, she has been hit with.
Shifting his grip on the rifle so he could use it like a staff or a club he swings the butt at her head. He stares open mouth as the hard plastic slaps into her palm and stops. He can't move, his body seemingly shuts down as he stares into a pair of bright, malevolent eyes that have already decided his fate.
Buffy's fingers squeeze, tightening on the hard plastic butt of the gun with enough force to crack it. With a quick jerk of her arm she rips the rifle out of his nerveless hands. Grabbing hold of the barrel with her right hand, she swings the rifle up and over her head faster then the human eye can follow, but far slower then she is use to.
The butt of the rifle smashes into his ribs, pulverizing the bones with the force of the blow. She pirouettes backward, on her left foot accelerating, building her speed and power. The butt slams into his neck nearly taking his head clean off of his shoulders as he flies nearly half a dozen feet away.
As the rifle connects with Buffy's target another dart jabs into her side. She can feel the powerful drugs working in her system, trying to drag her under, but she knows if she falters, if she wavers, if she stops for even a moment then she is dead, and she refuses to just give up. No matter what she will never stop fighting to live. If she is going to die then she's going to go down swinging.
She continues to spin, forcing her body to move despite the fact it just wants to lie down. Her hands shifting along the rifle as she picks up her target some fifty yards away. The other rifleman. She knows she was only going to get one shot at this so she better not miss.
She hurls the rifle like a javelin. It crosses the intervening space like a speeding bullet. The rifle flies true, the barrel piercing his chest, his heart, sliding through flesh and bone like a hot knife through melting butter. Then embedding itself into the base of the marble altar pinning him to the landmark as his body spasms for a fleeting second before going limp and slumping onto the rifle butt, his knees held a bare handful of inches off the ground.
Before the gun is even halfway to its mark Buffy is already moving, rolling away from where she had stood. As she rolls along the ground she manages to gather up a handful of pebbles.
While coming to her knee she fires off one stone. As she continues to rise to her feet she whips two more tiny stones. The first one goes just a little high shattering into powder upon hitting the crypt wall. The second rips into the accountants eye popping it like an over ripe grape as it rockets through skull and out the back.
The third high velocity projectile tears through the brunette's right shoulder a bare instant before a fourth and fifth stone punch holes in her sternum and throat respectively while a sixth whizzes past just to the left of her skull.
The final gunman squeezes off three shots in rapid sequence at the same time as Buffy launches her five remaining stones with one last throw. One dart sticks into her left shoulder just below the collar bone. A second lodges into her just above her right hip.
Across the small clearing the tall blonde drops to the ground, her eyes staring blankly up at the starry sky. A single bloodless hole punched through the middle of her forehead.
Buffy quickly plucks the last two dart from her body with numb hands as she whirls around scanning the area for any sign of the two demons. At least she thinks its her that's spinning around in a loose, slightly wobbly circle and not the world while she stands still.
Everything is coming in fuzzy, hazy. Blurring in and out on her. Not just her eyesight, but her hearing and sense of smell as well.
Even her demon sense has gone haywire.
She can't even tell if there is one demon around her or a thousand demons. She can't even tell where they are. She can barely tell they're there at all.
Sometimes fading almost completely out.
Sometimes roaring in so loudly she thinks she is being swarmed under from every angle, from every direction at once.
She lashes out blindly, stumbling, nearly falling, but somehow managing to keep her feet.
The only thing she is positive of is that she has to keep moving. Keep the blood pumping through her body as quickly as possible. Keep her hyper active metabolism counteracting as much of the poisons in her system as it can handle. Hope that its enough to flush it out before it can kill her.
She needs to move and quickly only which way. Every direction seems to lead to hordes of demons and nothing, switching back and forth so much, so rapidly that she wishes her head would explode.
Moving was hard to do as well with the world tilting this way and that all around her. Rushing up to crash into her face.
She rolls drunkenly to her feet, wavering and stumbling as she tries to run.
Suddenly a blue scale demon looms up in front of her. Just as quickly there are two more on either side of it.
She swings a tremendous backfist that hits only air. Its momentum spinning her around.
A sharp, slashing pain rips along her back.
She blocks across as she spins around knocking something away from her face.
A hard kick slams into her back sending her sprawling to the ground.
She rolls to her knees, instinctively blocking out to the side she intercepts another clawed swipe at her face.
Something heavy pierces her stomach tearing deep gashes into her flesh. A second later another swipe of claws cut furrows into her back.
Her fist connects with something as she lashes out blindly.
Another kick crashes into her back sending her face first to the ground again. She tries to get back up, to regain her feet, only claws continue to slice into her struggling body. Another set tears into her back, followed by another digging rents into her right side from powerful kicks.
She manages to roll to her left, away from the painful kicks, and make to her hands and knees. A hard kick to the left side of her chest lifts her up off the ground. A second kick flips her over to her back.
The world seems to lurch around her.
More cuts and rents, slashes and slices tear into her body as the pair of demons begin to truly work her over.
Buffy continues to struggle. Weak as her efforts are. The one thing she is grateful for having the drugs in her system is that her entire body is numb and she can't feel the pain from her injuries. Without the drugs she might not even be able to move with the amount of damage her body has suffered.
She knows this is the end. That there is nothing she can do to save herself. That the two demons are going to beat her to death and there isn't a thing she can do to prevent it.
It doesn't mean she is going to give up or stop fighting. As long as there is strength left in her body she is going to fight to live. Fight to the very end.
For as long as she can.
The hard driving beat pounds through Faith's skull as she mercilessly pounds on the specially reinforced heavy bag. It was the second one she has had to put up since she got in this morning after her blowup with Buffy. The other two she had torn apart over the day and now they were residing in the buildings basement dumpster thanks to the garbage shoot. With heavy tears and long rents in this bag it wouldn't be long before it was joining its two predecessors.
She still couldn't believe some of the things she had said to Buffy. She couldn't believe Buffy had decked her.
Well okay. That she could actually believe. Especially after some of the crap her mouth had been spewing.
It was Buffy. A harder, more cynical Buffy, but still Buffy. One thing she had learnt about the blonde was she seldom said something she didn't mean.
She could've taken her. Could have even kept her and continued working for the Mayor all at the same time.
Buffy had said she didn't care.
Only it would have been something rotten. Something she had spoiled. Something she had turned rotten.
But it wasn't like Buffy was some sweet innocent little girl...
Only that was what she had said. That she had never been with anyone. Never loved anyone liked that. It was something along those lines.
Was that it?
Was that why she had tossed precious little Buffy aside?
To save her. To somehow keep her safe. Keep her clean of the infection that is her life.
With a final savage punch to the ravaged heavy bag Faith spins around. "Jesus fucking Christ!" She curses kicking the plump overstuffed beige chair across the loft and into the wall.
Her eyes are wide, almost wild looking as she spins around in a small circle taking in the loft. "I need to get out of here," she mumbles seeing far too many breakable things around for her comfort.
Plus she needs to find Buffy.
For no reason she can understand she needs to make things right with the tiny blonde. Faith has no idea how to do that. Apologize. Or something like it. Maybe.
First thing she had to do is find her and she couldn't do that if she stood where she is the rest of the night.
Forcing herself to move Faith grabs her jacket off the bed and bolts for the door. She has no idea where Buffy is, but maybe Buffy would have some idea where she might have gone off to.
Not that Buffy was anything like Buffy, but it was worth a shot since it was the only idea she had other then roam around Sunnydale until she stumbles upon her.
Behind her, as the door slams shut, the hard, rhythmic almost primitive beat continues to pound through the loft.
The heavy black leather whisks softly several inches above the lush grass with each powerful, purposeful stride. A pair of heavy black boots squash the greenery underfoot. Spike looks around blowing out a thick stream of smoke between his mouth and nose. Unconcerned he flicks his spent cigarette away, the orange spark arcing high into the air before falling to the earth and vanishing in the neatly manicured lawn.
He inhales deeply hating the fact that he was back in Sunnyhell. Every time he was in this town everything conspires to make his life as unbearable as possible. Unfortunately the key to his final victory over the slayer was buried somewhere in this town.
Once he has killed her, proven to Drusilla once and for all that she is the only one he loves, has ever loved, ever will love he can put this cursed town behind him. Put his bloody obsession with killing slayers behind him and get the hell on with his bloody unlife.
Now all he had to do was find the Gem of Amara while not being spotted by the slayer or any of her bloody lap dogs.
Subtlety had never been his strong suit. Neither had sneaking around in the shadows or skulking.
Those were all the things the great poofter excelled in and he made sure, took great pains in fact to avoid doing anything the way Angelus would have done it.
He deliberately went out of his way to make as much of a raucous as possible. Everything had to be boisterous and uncouth just because he knew it would rankle Angelus. Plus life was just flat out more fun that way.
The first part of his plan involves a bit of risk. He had to find the right tomb which meant searching Sunnyhell's cemeteries. Luckily there were only two graveyards old enough to hold the crypt he was looking for.
Looking through both, with leaving no stone or headstone unturned would take him little more then a week. The entire time he was going to have to be living his life out of little plastic bags that can be acquired from the hospital for a few pounds. It wasn't the way he likes doing things but there was too much at stake here for him to take the chance of someone catching a glimpse...
He stops dead in his tracks, eyes flickering a dull gold as the strong, pungent order of blood fills the air. There is something about the blood he smells. Some alluring quality that tugs at his memory. Without really thinking about it he follows the scent back to its source.
The first body he comes upon is a man in his early thirties. Spike would have said the man was in better shape then he appears except he's dead. His head barely held on by a thin flap of skin.
Scattered a few yards from the body are five darts designed like hypodermic needles meant to deliver an injection from a safe distance. Four of them are stuck into other objects, the grass, a tree. One however was lying on the ground as if it was dropped there.
Looking around the area he can see other shapes lying at odd angles in the darkness. One had to be almost fifty yards away and held to the side of an alter by something driven through his chest and into the marble behind him.
Three others lay in a ten foot cluster with the closest to him being about twenty yards away and to his right. They might have been a little closer to him but not by much. All together the three points made an oddly shaped little triangle.
They however weren't what had drawn him here.
He turns his head to the right. Almost hidden behind an ankle high concrete marker was what had brought him to this spot.
There was something familiar about her scent, but something was off about it as well. Not just the drugs he had smelled on the darts either.
Buffy's scent was always fresh and clean. Like she had just stepped out of the shower no matter what she had just been doing. This girl smelt harder, like she didn't have enough time to wash away the stench of death.
Or she didn't care to.
He steps around the corner and lets out a low whistle. When he was a boy, before his father's untimely death, for some reason he couldn't remember he had wanted to see how sausage was made. He begged, he pleaded, he whined, and eventually he had gotten his mother to convince his father to take him.
That was what the slayer reminded him of. Meat getting ready to be ground into sausage. Although he thought the sausage looked better then the slayer did right now. Her body was sliced into ribbons. There were so many cuts it was hard to find a patch of unmarked skin any where.
The incredible part, the slayer is still alive. Her breathing is shallow. Her heartbeat is erratic, sometimes taking as much as ten to twelve seconds between strong beats.
"Well now," Spike murmurs softly as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes from his duster pocket. He squats down, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting it up while he looks the slayer over.
The girl looks far different then the last time he had seen her. She had a more militaristic appearance now. Her clothes, olive green fatigues, combat boots. Her hair was braided in a tight single weave. She lacked the make-up he was so use to seeing her wear.
"What the bloody hell am I going to do with you slayer?" He ponders aloud taking a drag off his cigarette. "I could kill you hear and now, easy as sin, but where would the fun be in that. Who would know it had been me? No one," he replies answering his own question. "You wouldn't. You'd die thinking some other blighter did the deed and that just wouldn't be right. When I kill you slayer you're gonna know it's me," he finishes tossing his cigarette away as a strange, almost protective light burns in his eyes.
Joyce hangs up the pay phone after her brief conversation with Mr. Giles. She found it odd how she still refers to him as Mr. Giles, even in her own head, after having sex with him on the hood of a police car.
Unconsciously she strokes the smooth surface of Buffy's driver license between her thumb and forefinger. It was the only piece of identification Buffy had own her when she was brought in. Her clothes, especially the green tee shirt, had been torn- you could almost say slashed- to pieces. Just like their owner. This little piece of plastic, along with the hospital records from Buffy's stay here last year, were what had enabled them to contact her.
She hadn't thought anything of it when she had first seen the flashing blue and red lights through her pallor's big bay window as she watched t.v. At least she hadn't until the police cruiser pulled to a crooked stop in her driveway. That was when she felt fear grip her heart, squeezing it like a vice.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she had wondered if this was what families of police officers and fire fighters feel in these same situations. Although she imagines its worse for her. Buffy wasn't even out of high school yet, and it wasn't a question of maybe this is going to happen to her, but when.
No parent should have to know what it feels like to live with the knowledge that they were going to outlive their own child.
The officer that had driven her to the hospital had been extremely calm, courteous, and understanding. He hadn't really known anything more then that Buffy had been in some kind of accident and that she was at Sunnydale General Hospital.
Accident. Joyce thought that was very nearly a laughable term to describe Buffy's condition.
The doctors had told her they had stitched up a hundred individual lacerations over her face and torso. All of which look like they were made by some type of claw. What made them left the doctors baffled, stumped, and bewildered.
Almost as much as the unknown narcotics they had found in Buffy's system.
The fact that her blood was also flooded with more adrenaline then the human body could safely handle had them in a stupor as well. The doctor Joyce had talked to had thrown around statements like; a hundred times, shouldn't be able to survive a tenth of that, and other such comments that she hadn't been paying attention to at the time.
Joyce didn't really care. Maybe the human body couldn't handle the shock. She was just glad a slayer could.
As Joyce moves away from the bank of pay phones in the hospital lobby she looks back down at Buffy's driver license. It had been issued almost two years ago, a month after her sixteenth birthday.
A slight frown creases her face. She looks up as she comes to a stop. "Since when does Buffy have a drivers license?" She murmurs out loud. Looking back down she adds, "from Louisiana?"
A questioning look slips over Buffy's face as Giles hangs up the phone. "What is it?" She asks the librarian out loud as he gathers his coat from the stand next to his door.
He finishes slipping on his coat before turning to look at her, a heavy sigh whistling past his lips. "That was your mother," he begins somewhat reluctantly.
"I got that when you said hello Mrs. Summers," Buffy interjects slightly annoyed with her watcher.
"Buffy's in the hospital," he says a slight note of reproach in his voice.
"What?" Buffy gapes her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Her doppelganger could be a bitch not to mention irritating and annoying as all hell, but she was also extremely competent at her calling. "How bad is it?" If something was capable of putting her in the hospital it was going to require her and Faith working together in order to deal with it.
Something they haven't done since Finch.
Plus there was a little piece of her that almost feels like it is a family member in the hospital. A distant cousin to be sure, but still family.
"Your mother didn't give any particulars, but from her voice I'd say it isn't good," he replies solemnly.
The library doors swing in as Faith enters the room. The brunette strides across the floor as if she is on a mission. "Hey, either of you seen B. I've been looking all over and..." She gives a slight shrug as she continues saying, "she is one girl that doesn't get found when she doesn't..."
"Thought the two of you were inseparable?" Buffy cuts her off surprised at the anger in her voice.
"Yeah well, got into a fight over something stupid and she bailed," Faith answers sounding defensive and hating that she sounds defensive. "What the hell's going on?"
"She's in the hospital," Buffy snaps at her.
Faith blanches, her skin taking on a ghostly color, her knuckles whitening as her fist tighten. "What happened?" She demands in a deathly quiet voice already having some idea as to what happened.
"We don't know," Giles responds. "More then likely it was a set up. Probably meant for either Buffy or yourself," he adds. "Now, I really do have to go, so if you will both..."
"You ain't going anywhere without me," Buffy cuts him off before he can finish. Flying around the library she gathers up her own coat, books, and bag.
Buffy's sudden flurry of activity seems to snap Faith out of her slight funk. The mayor had promised her two days. He hadn't even given her twelve hours. "I'm going," she hisses surprising both Buffy and Giles as she turns on her heel and storms back out the library doors she entered just a few minutes ago.
Willow paces restlessly in Angel's kitchen as she waits for the microwave to warm her blood. A pensive frown creases her lips as she prowls the small confines. She would much rather be out hunting right now, but sacrifices were going to have to be made if her plan was to succeed. The young vampiress only wishes someone else had to pay the price of her sacrifices.
It didn't matter.
Soon enough everyone would be paying for their arrogance. All she needs is a few days to gain Angel's trust.
Angel watches her from just inside the open the kitchens doorless entryway. He could understand her anxiety. This is the prime hunting time right now, between ten and three. While the clubs are packed and the bars are just letting out. Before everyone is tucked neatly into their own beds all safe and secure.
This is the time when a vampire feels the urge to hunt, to kill, the most.
Even after all his years of dealing with the desire it never lessens. Not an ounce. Not in all the years since he stopped feeding on humans.
Angelus' brief return last year did quite a lot to erode the restraint he had spent years refining. It was returning slowly. A little every day.
"You should just kill me," Willow says suddenly even though she doesn't mean a word of it. Turning slightly she looks out the window and into the darkness with a wistful light in her eyes. "It would be safer for everyone if I wasn't... If I didn't want..." She gives her head a sad shake as a handful of tears slide down her cheeks. "I can hear them calling to me, feel the pull of their blood, their heat, their lives just... I want to be out there so much," she whines plaintively knowing it is easier to deceive with the truth then a lie.
"It will get easier," Angel assures her softly as he moves up behind her, resting his large hand on her slim shoulder and squeezing firmly. "You just have to give it a little time."
"I don't deserve a little time," she sobs quietly letting her head drop until it touches her chest. "I don't deserve any of it. I'm evil, I'll always be evil. I'll never be good. Not like you."
Angel shakes his head slightly as he pulls her back into his large frame. He wraps his arms around her, embracing her tightly, offering the young vampire the strength she needs. Softly he confides, "I'm not always good. In fact I've been known to screw up a lot. Pretty big ones too so I wouldn't use me as a role model for being good."
"Then what am I suppose to do?" Willow pleads as she turns in his embrace. Crying softly she lays her head on his chest while wrapping her tiny arms around his waist.
Angel doesn't respond. There really isn't anything he can say to her. Its something she is going to have to figure out on her own.
All he can do right now is offer her what support he can. Moving his right hand up he gently smoothes her hair down hoping the motion will soothe her.
Unnoticed next to them the microwave beeps several times as it finishes heating up the container of blood.
"Why that dirty little fink," Willow murmurs as she looks through her binoculars at the two vampires as they embrace.
"Which one?" Xander inquires as he looks through his own set of binoculars. There's an almost gleeful note in his voice as he imagines what Buffy is going to do Angel once she finds out about how her boyfriend is spending his nights.
"Her, him. Both of them," she replies in a huff.
Oz lowers his binoculars as he says, "at least we know Buffy isn't imagining things."
"Is this all I'm ever going to do?" Willow mumbles to herself softly. "Go around ruining all of my friends relationships with my cheap trollopy ways?"
"Hey," Oz begins soothingly as he moves to Willow's side giving a soft squeeze to her shoulder. "That's not you down there," he reminds her firmly.
"Yeah well, maybe that's not me, but its still my fault Cordelia broke up with Xander," she responds with a pitiful little whine.
"It was as much my fault as yours," Xander replies as he turns to face his oldest friend. "Besides I was getting tired of almost being accepted anyway. Who knew that not getting locked inside of lockers would be so boring?" He jokes lightly trying to cheer Willow up.
Willow gives Xander a brief smile for his attempt to keep her spirits up. "What are we going to tell Buffy?"
Oz sighs slightly as he continues to stare over Willow's head at Angel's mansion. "Lets keep our heads about this. We don't really know that anything's going on between them. It could be something completely innocent that we're blowing out of proportion. If we say something now..."
"We get Angel out of Buffy's life once and for all," Xander cuts in with a glaring scowl at them.
"You're not going to say anything to Buffy," Willow responds locking eyes with Xander. "You're not going to ruin her relationship with Angel just to make yourself happy. Until we know exactly what's going on between Angel and me none of us are saying anything to Buffy," she finishes with a stern glare directed at the lanky brunette.
She holds Xander's gaze for several moments before he finally looks away. As he stares back at the mansion Willow swallows hard worrying if she'll be able to hold her tongue around Buffy. The last thing she wants is to be responsible for ruining Buffy and Angel's relationship over what might be nothing.
It was Buffy. Even through the bandages and the stitches Joyce could tell it was Buffy. It just wasn't her Buffy.
If nothing else told her that, the blood soaked clothes did. Olive green military fatigues, black combat boots. Neither was something Buffy would be caught dead wearing.
It didn't do anything to lesson her concern for the young girl lying in the bed. A girl possessing her daughter's face. That was an exact duplicate of Buffy. The girl must have family out there somewhere, concerned for her safety, but they weren't here and she is.
Joyce didn't know how she came to look like Buffy. She just assumes it has something to do with living in Sunnydale. Living on top of the hell mouth.
As the door opens Joyce looks up. "How is she?" Giles inquires as he steps into the room. She blinks several times as a moment later Buffy slinks into the room followed closely by Faith.
Instantly she's out of her chair upon seeing Buffy. It was one thing knowing it wasn't her daughter lying in the bed fighting for her life. It is quite another seeing that proof before her.
She crosses the intervening space so quickly she barely looks like she moved at all. One moment she was at the bedside the next she was enveloping Buffy in a tight hug saying, "thank god you're all right. When the officer showed up at the house saying you were at the hospital, that you had been in an accident I thought... I felt like I was going to die."
Giles shoots a quick glance at Joyce while Faith moves to the near side of Buffy's bed. "You mean to say you can tell this isn't Buffy?"
Joyce looks up at Giles with an icy gaze. She still hadn't come close to forgiving him for his part in putting her daughter in even more danger then she was normally in. In a voice that makes her stare seem warm she says, "I do know my own daughter Mr. Giles." As she looks at the man another possible reason for why this girl looks identical to her daughter occurs to her. "Maybe you could tell me what that council of yours is up to masquerading this poor girl around as Buffy?"
"Mom," Buffy says urgently drawing her mother's eyes to her. "The council didn't have anything to do with this... And that really is me."
Joyce shakes her head from side to side. "What? How? What do you mean?" She demands in a quick rush.
"Its me, just not me. Willow did this spell that brought me from a different... There, here and she kind of decided to stay here because she didn't like it there," Buffy explains confusing the matter even more.
The older woman stares at her daughter for several moments before saying, "would you explaining that again. Only this time try using English."
"A bit more then twenty-four hours ago Willow and a classmate did a spell that bridged this reality with one that closely mirrors this one and transported that reality's Buffy and Willow to this reality. After a lengthy debate and in an attempt to maintain the integrity of the boundaries between our two realities it was decided they would remain here."
Joyce stares at Giles as if he had horns growing out of his head before shifting her gaze slightly to glance at Buffy. "I thought I asked for English?"
"You didn't specify American," Buffy whispers back.
Giles ignores the mother-daughter by play with the simple efficiency of looking towards the injured slayer lying on the bed. Faith standing at the bedside obscures most of his view. "Does anybody know what happened?" He inquires turning his attention back to the two Summers women.
Joyce shakes her head still not satisfied with the explanation of how she came to have two daughters. "According to the police the nurse at the front desk said she was just there when she looked up, sitting in a chair directly across from her. Nobody saw her come in. No one saw anyone drop her off. She was just there one moment and nobody knows..."
"I did it," Faith says softly, her voice thick, almost raw with emotions. Her words bring a deathly hush to the room. "She's here because I put her here."
________________________________________________________________________
Keep the Faith - Bon Jovi
Mother mother tell your children
That their time has just begun
I have suffered for my anger
There are wars that can't be won
Father father please believe me
I am laying down my guns
I am broken like an arrow
Forgive me
Forgive your wayward son
Everybody needs somebody to love
(mother, mother)
Everybody needs somebody to hate
(please believe me)
Everybody's bitching
'cause they can't get enough
And it's hard to hold on
When there's no one to lean on
Faith: you know you're gonna live thru the rain
Lord you got to keep the faith
Faith: don't let your love turn to hate
Right now we got to
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
Lord we got to keep the faith
Tell me baby when I hurt you
Do you keep it all inside
Do you tell me all's forgiven
And just hide behind your pride
Everybody needs somebody to love
(mother, father)
Everybody needs somebody to hate
(please don't leave me)
Everybody's bleeding
'cause the times are tough
Well it's hard to be strong
When there's no one to dream on
Faith: you know you're gonna live thru the rain
Lord you got to keep the faith
Faith: Now you know its never too late
Right now we got to
Faith: Don't let your love turn to hate
Lord you got to keep the faith
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
(Oh we got to keep the faith)
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
Lord we got to keep the faith
I've been walking in the footsteps
Of society's lies
I don't like what I see no more
Sometimes I wish that I was blind
Sometimes I wait forever
To stand out in the rain
So no one sees me cryin'
Trying to wash away the pain
Mother father
(Everybody needs somebody to love)
There's things I've done I can't erase
(Everybody needs somebody to hate)
Every night we fall from grace
(Everybody's bitching cause they can't get enough)
It's hard with the world in yours face
(Everybody bleeds)
Trying to hold on
(Everybody bleeds)
Trying to hold on
Faith: you know you're gonna live thru the rain
Lord you got to keep the faith
Faith: don't let your love turn to hate
Right now we got to keep the faith
Faith: now it's not too late
Try to hold on, trying to hold on
Keep the faith