See through woman (6/?), by dutchbuffy2305

Pairing: Faith/Spike

Rating: R

Author's note: Sequel to His voice is like a Mars-bar

Author's website:

Feedback: Yes, please, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

Faith peers again at the scrap of paper with the address on it. This must be it, Tara said so. She hadn't imagined witches to be rich and powerful, but if they live here… At the start of the driveway the snow abruptly ends. There's isn't a speck of snow or even mud on its pebbled expanse, and she feels like a troll in her snowboots. The mansion looming up before her is lit from below like a stage. She stares at the way it cuts out the big spangly stars and the frosty clear night sky. There are double stairs leading up to the front door. She can even choose between approaching it with the left hand stair or the right hand stairs. Left feels better.

Ding dong, the bell hums politely.

Faith waits. She rocks on the balls of her feet. The rich make her nervous. There are no lighted windows on this side of the mansion, so maybe no one's home. She's about to sprint off to her loyal bike when she hears footsteps behind the door. It opens smoothly, without a sound.

In the tall door opening stands a small bag lady. A mean looking, sixteen year old bag lady, with birds' nests in her dark hair and wearing thirteen sweaters. Maybe it's fashion when they're cashmere?

The layered girl says nothing, just stares at Faith, who starts to feel she has two noses. She notices there are real birds fretting and pacing in the girl's hair.

Faith clears her throat. "Um, I don't know your name, but…."

The intensity of the air between them doubles. "There's no one here that …" the girl starts, but then checks herself and stares extra hard at Faith. "You're not from the library, are you? You subpoenaing me because my books are late or what?"

Faith wishes she'd thought this over better. Or brought Clem or something. "Um, no, but a friend of mine detected your use of magic, and we thought you might like to talk to people who deal with that kind of thing on a daily basis."

The girl barks brief laughter. "Huh. A self help group for delusional witches? No thanks. I'll deal with my peculiarities on my own terms."

She must be a witch, she uses words like Willow used to.

"Not a self help group. We fight demons and vampires, mostly. We're kind of peace keepers."

The girl stares. Her eyes are an intense violet color that seek a hole in Faith's skull to sneak in and wreak havoc. Faith takes a step back. She prefers dealing with demons, at least she knows she could kill them without a thought if need be.

"You believe in demons? And in witchcraft?"

Faith nods.

The girl motions with her hand and intones, "Incende!"

Faith jumps off the landing with a shout. There's a wall of roaring orange fire between her and the girl. Whoa, Willow, eat your heart out. This girl has power. Faith feels her cheeks unexpectedly stretching with a big smile. Tara was right. She could be a valuable member of their team.

"Hey! You coming to meet the demon and the vampire?"

The flames bank. The girl steps over them and leans on the balustrade. The roosting birds in her hair, robins, Faith thinks, twitter agitatedly. "You still here? Not scared off yet?"

"Aw, girl," Faith says, "I used to work with this Wicca who nearly destroyed the world two years ago, until a friend talked her out of it. So, I think your flames are kinda cool, and we could use 'em."

There is silence. The girl pads softly down on felt slippers, staring at Faith with puzzled eyes.

"Well. Okay. Show me the vampire and the demon. Just one?"

Faith slings an arm around her.

"DarkStarPrincess?"

"Please! That's just my web-ID. Morgan Vanderbilt."

"Okay, Morgan, there's tons of demons here, and more coming in every day coz of me and the Hellmouth."

"Hellmouth? And what about you?"

"I'm the Slayer. I'll explain later. The guys you're gonna meet are a friendly demon and a souled vampire. And a former witch."

"How do I know they're not gonna eat me?"

Faith is starting to like her. "Good question. Feel the heartbeat," she says, taking the girls hands and thrusting it under her sweater.

Morgan squeaks and jumps a foot away from Faith. She looks like she'd like to have jumped farther, but isn't athletic enough to pull it of.

"I'm not too comfortable with touching people," she says threateningly.

Faith kinda got that. "Abused as a child?" she asks. "Me too."

Morgan stares at Faith's black leather. "Yeah," she says doubtfully. "So what did you do, become a hooker or something?"

"Hey," Faith says. Miss Seventeen Sweaters should watch it with the sassiness. It's just her look, okay.

"Here, you can use this helmet," Faith says. Spike bought it specially, saying he knows human beings are kind of fragile.

Morgan shakes her head and points at the birds. "Don't wanna squash them. I'll wear a small force field."

Faith, Morgan, the birds and the force field climb on the bike. Morgan's legs are so short they stick out to the side like in a child's drawing.

*

In Willy's bar Faith takes Morgan to their regular table. Clem and Spike are sitting huddled over their beers. Someone's joined them, a small dark-haired woman. Girls are always hitting on Spike. Faith pays it no attention.

"Hey guys," Faith says. "This is Morgan."

Clem and Spike say 'hi' in subdued voices. They don't make a move to introduce their guest to Faith, which puzzles her for a moment. Then the girl lifts a tearstained face and wanly says, "Hi Faith". It's Kennedy.

"Hey, Ken," Faith says automatically. Huh. What's she doing here? Cleveland's already got a slayer, thank you. She almost sits down on the chair Spike got for her, but he jerks his head to remind her of Morgan, who's motionless, birds screeching and flapping around her head, her muddy designer sneakers practically growing roots as she stares at Clem. And him wearing his friendly face, too. Faith sighs. This whole responsibility 'n leadership thing's not exactly her natural mode. She walks back over to Morgan. One of the tiny birds makes a threatening dive at Clem's head.

"Morgan, get that bird of yours back, Faith says. "What's he gonna do, bomb the monster with his eggs?"

Morgan grabs her arms with scared black talons and hisses, "What is that? Is that an alien from outer space?"

"Morgan, meet Clem. He's a demon, but he's okay. We don't kill him and he helps us. The guy with the bleach job is Spike, my boyfriend. He's a vampire, like I told you. But he's good too, and he's got a soul. This is Kennedy. Kennedy is also a Slayer, though generally there is only one per town," she adds pointedly.

Kennedy opens her mouth to say something, but Spike puts his hand on her forearm and she quiets. Whoa. That's new. This is Kennedy, right? The girl who would have staked Spike in a second if Buffy wasn't looking?

"Morgan's the witch Tara said we should look up," Faith continues desperately, now that everyone is silent and looking at her. The bird is still doing reconnaissance flights above Clem's head. "Maybe she can help us, she's as powerful as Willow."

Kennedy bursts into tears. Oh. So the redhead finally kicked the pushy little bitch out, huh. Good on her.

Morgan still isn't budging. Faith wants to shove her over to the table, so she can sit down and give Ken a hug, but she refrains from doing that and takes a frayed orange cuff, pulling at it gently.

"I'm not walking past that!" Morgan whispers squeakily. Is she talking about the Fyarl on the left or the necking – as in sipping from each other's gaping neck wounds- vampire couple on the right?

Clem holds his flaky hand in the air and the little spitfire descends on it with wavery tweets and flutters. Morgan gasps softly near to Faith's ear. Clem slowly brings his other paw closer to the robin and deposits a tiny crumb on the marbled pink folds of his palm. The bird hops around it twice in nervous little circles and then pecks. Its tiny orange throat works infinitesimally; it searches briefly for more and then returns to base.

Morgan's hand rises slowly above her head, her eyes never leaving the smiling Clem. It's too bad that his smile, while well-intentioned, doesn't make him look less scary. The bird rubs its head against Morgan's finger. The diminutive witch sighs and walks determinedly to the table, where she plunks down next to Spike.

"Okay," she says, her voice small but determined. "Tell me what you guys do and what you need me for."

Spike smiles at her and holds out his hand. Morgan takes it. "Hi, I'm Spike."

"Your hand is cold. Are you really a vampire?"

Faith holds her breath as she slides in next to Kennedy. She doesn't think it would be a good idea if Spike proved that right now. He doesn't. Instead, he just nods. "Really. Show you some other time."

"Maybe I can tell you a little more," Tara's voice says from behind Faith.

Faith starts. As a Slayer she's so used to knowing when somebody's behind her that Tara unnerves her when she does this, being ghostly and not moving a molecule of air, or rustling her immaterial clothes. Otherwise, she's the sweetest, gentlest person Faith's ever met, and she wishes she'd known someone like that earlier.

Morgan doesn't notice, Faith thinks, because she says, "Hi! I'm Morgan. You?"

"Tara. I used to be a witch, too. Nowadays I help Faith with stuff." Tara smiles sweetly at the younger girl, who can't help being comforted by her low, diffident voice.

Faith sinks back in her seat gratefully. Dear Tara, who knows she hates doing exposition and stuff like that. She squeezes Kennedy's shoulder while Tara is talking, and has a nice stare at Spike, who's looking particularly lush and finely honed next to the untidy fraying trash bag shape that is Morgan. He's tipped his chair backwards, the way he does, balancing the chair on two legs, his big hands laced on his black Lycra stomach. His pinkies make a one-way sign straight at his crotch. Faith knows it's a good thing their team is expanding, but she would really like to be sitting with Spike on the couch right now, she'd follow his directions faithfully. The taste of Spike, combined with a swallow of beer now and then is a combination she's particularly fond of, and Spike says he likes the beer's fizz against his exposed head.

Willy walks by and swipes Tara's stool for a more physically enabled customer. Tara doesn't notice, but Morgan does. Her birds explode in a cloud of browney grey wings and Spike lifts his hands reflexively to keep them out of his eyes. It does look kinda weird, Tara sweetly and earnestly talking on, floating in mid air, her ghostly ample bum denting just as if the stool were still there.

Faith decides to help Morgan out. "Tara, baby, you need to add a stool to your outfit. And I guess you forgot to mention to Morgan why exactly we need a second witch."

Tara mends her appearance and scrunches up her forehead at Morgan. "I'm sorry, sweetie, she says," I should have mentioned that I'm a ghost. No more witchy powers for me."

Morgan is breathing rapidly. Spike does a thing with his hand in the air at Willy and within seconds a shot glass full of transparent stuff appears. Morgan downs it without blinking an eye. Faith doesn't mention under-ageness and bar licenses. She has no clue how Willy pulls this off, and if someone high up in Cleveland politics, like the mayor or something, is a demon, she really doesn't want to know. Her world view has taken more than enough beatings; she's keeping it in a sheltered spot these days.

Tara goes on, with Spike and Clem helping out occasionally. Faith tries to keep up with the flow of the conversation for a few seconds, but as it's the past and theory, she just floats along.

She turns to Kennedy, who's toying with her beer with unseeing eyes.

"You need a place to stay?" Faith says softly to Kennedy.

Ken shakes her head. "No, I'm fine, staying at the Holiday Inn near the airport. Just wanna hang with your gang for a bit until I've figured out what to do with myself."

Faith's heart sinks. Her posse is expanding at an alarming rate. And they really don't need two slayers.

"You could ask Giles to give you your own territory?"

"Yeah," Kennedy mumbles, with obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Faith hides a sigh and takes a swallow of beer. Check. Add one extra Slayer to the mix, complete with uncongenial personality. She'll have to think of something, like dividing all of Cleveland in two parts, and then Kennedy can slay in the North and she in the South.

*

Faith looks over her little troupe, or what she can see of it in the erratic moonlight. Kennedy is looking very business-like, patrolling their perimeter, watched by a bemused Clem and Spike, who are making jokes about her state of readiness. This is not Sunnydale as besieged by the First; this is just chilly empty Cleveland, where the vamps are still innocent and unafraid of mankind, making it easy to slay them. Tara is radiant in her bright pink sari, and stands comradely next to a shivering Morgan, who doesn't look as if she's having fun yet.

There's a short drum roll of footsteps, a grunt, and when Faith turns she can see vampire dust drifting to the ground, silvered by moonlight like fairy dust.

"Ken!" she says. This really pisses her off. Trigger happy Kennedy should keep the vamps alive until Morgan has taken a good look at one of them.

"Did you not get what we're doing here or what?"

"Hey! He came at me too fast not to stake them," Kennedy replies defensively and turns her head away.

Oh shit, she's not crying, is she? Yeah, she is. Even if the scolding is deserved, Faith kinda gets that Ken might be feeling a little tender after the break-up. She debates going up to her. No, she decides, Morgan is her priority tonight. Ken's a Slayer, and older than Morgan, and she'll just have to deal. She can't be mom to everyone here. She still can't really grasp that she's doing this. And when exactly did she agree to the group huggy thing? Spike may think having a team will keep her alive longer, but if she's gonna feel this irritated and overstretched for the rest of her life she'll pass, thank you very much.

Her neck hair stand up straight, sending tingly messages skittering to her fingertips. Good, another one.  She goes to stand next to Morgan, scattering fake giggles around like Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs. Morgan stares at her as if she's gone mental.

"A vamp at ten o'clock," she whispers. "Act human. Feminine and giggly, they like that."

The vamp jumps out of a tree, his big canines on full display, arms high and wide. He roars. His eyes are yellow. He skids to a halt when he takes in Faith and Tara's lack of prey-like movement or screaming and sniffs.

"You're not….no, you're meat. Lemme…"

The world will never know what he would have said next, as Faith whips out her stake and drives it into his heart, stepping neatly aside so Morgan can get a full view of the staking and dusting process.

The moon has ventured out only the skimpiest little sliver of herself on this cold night, so there isn't much light. The dark blue of the sky overhead is tinged with city purple at the edges. Cleveland style intrudes even on the color of heaven.

Faith turns to Morgan. "Didya get a good look?"

Morgan nods faintly. She makes the mistake of trying to grab at Tara for support and almost falls.

"I saw, I believed, I nearly fainted. I want you to take me home now."

Faith hesitates. Patrol beckons, and she doesn't want to give that Kennedy free rein on her turf. Maybe she can ask Clem? Clem and Spike are still kidding around. There are no vampires or demons attacking them, as usual. Without Faith they'd have no fun at all, poor things. Morgan fastens onto her jacket and the violet eyes double in intensity.

"I want you to take me home. Not one of the monsters."

Faith mulls on this as they slog back to the bike through the snow. "Did you get that I'm a vampire Slayer? And Ken there too?" she says. "Vampires Slayers are a little bit monsters themselves, you know."

Morgan's path suddenly takes her a bit further away from Faith. "Do you have a creepy face too, like the vampires?"

"No. My monster is invisible. I mean, it's just the part that gives me super strength and dreams and so on."

Morgan perks up a little. "What kind of dreams?"

"Vision dreams, like warnings of things that might go down."

"Cool!"

"Yeah. But now that you mention it, I haven't had any for a long time," Faith says.

"Well, I mean, it's none of my business, of course, but it does seem kind of strange that you are a Vampire Slayer and your boyfriend is a vampire," Morgan says.

"Huh. Ya think that's the cause?" Faith asks. Obviously Morgan is a sharp brain that goes on thinking busily even if she's scared. "I don't know. Could be."

"And the other monster? I guess the vampire sucks blood like in the movies, but what does the wrinkly one eat?"

"Cheetos, mostly," Faith says with a grin. "And he's very keen on having me eat Granola type stuff."

Morgan looks at her if she's stupid or insane or both. "Yeah, right. That's what you've seen him eat. But what does he really eat, what was his diet before there were Cheetos?"

Yep, she's a thinker. Faith has no clue, but she figures if Morgan thinks up the questions, it's her job to find the answers too. The rotund little shape next to her is fighting bravely with the knee-deep snow; her birds are keeping each other warm on their nest and Faith feels a surge of unexpected affection.

"Why don't you come around tomorrow," Faith says, "and I'll show you the fat ancient books that you and my Watcher can have fun with together. Also, Willow used to do a lot of web research. You handy with the Internet?"

Morgan casts her eyes to heaven. "Duh. I spend most of my time AIMing with my Wiccan friends, what do you think?"

Faith doesn't. She feels, mostly. And right now very much like a grandmother who delicately asks her granddaughter about a first kiss and gets an answer from the girl about pills and condoms.

She drops the witch off at the start of her half-a-mile driveway. Morgan slides off, adjusts the nest and waves a thick mitt at her, unraveling cashmere flapping around it.

"That was fun. See ya tomorrow!"

She trudges off, a tiny bundle of rags on short legs, accompanied by sleepy bird tweets. Faith guesses they have a new witch on the team.

TBC