A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer, rating, and notes.
Title: 'The Best Things' is another song from Filter.
*****
"You've been quiet," Michael said as he wrapped his arms around Faith. She leaned back into him, resting her head on his chest. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing," she said immediately, but he could hear the lie in her voice. Something was bothering her, and she wasn't comfortable talking about it. He needed to know what it was, otherwise there was nothing he could do to help her.
"Faith…"
"No matter how hard I try," she began immediately, "No matter who forgives me for what I've done, I can't get away from my past." A single tear escaped her eye, running a silent trail down her cheek.
There was nothing he could really say, yet his actions were enough. Just holding her, lending her his strength, was enough. They stood that way for quiet some time, simply watching the night sky.
*****
"Xander?" Willow asked, looking up from the broken glass she was sweeping up. "Where did you get a gun?"
"Legally," he answered immediately. "Bought, paid, and licensed."
"Why do you need a gun?" She definitely wasn't comfortable with the topic.
"Things are getting bad, Wills," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "I have to be ready to act, and the gun is the only weapon I'm sure I can use well. That whole Halloween thing, that stayed with me longer than it should have. I mean, it was just a spell. Giles agreed with me."
"So, you're a soldier," she began, her arms going around her body. "All military knowledge in your head?"
"Yes and no," he said quietly. "Lance Corporal Thomas Fines died in 1994, but a part of him lived on, still sworn to his duty. That spell, it gave him a way to protect and serve." Xander paused, then pulled out a pair of dog tags that he wore under his shirt. Willow never noticed them before, but somehow, they seemed right hanging around his neck.
"I have his memories, and his skills. I know tactics, and weapons. Military protocol and traditions, I know it all."
"But, when?" she asked quietly. "You didn't know all that stuff before. It was just kind of in the back of your head, glimpses of this stuff."
"It was," Xander conceded, "Until I found these dog tags a few months ago. Resting on a headstone, like they were waiting for me. I picked up the tags, read the name on them. But the name changed… to my own."
"Weird," Willow said quickly. "What if it was a trick, or some demon's idea of messing with you?"
"I knew it wasn't the minute I put them on," he still spoke softly, idly fingering the tags. "I spoke to Thomas, and he told me what he could do. And he told me the price I'd have to pay for that knowledge."
"What price," her voice was near breaking.
"Nothing much, really," Xander said, looking up and grinning. "He made me swear to fight evil any way I could, to protect the innocent, and always aid others in the fight. I told him, after, that it wasn't much change from what I already did. He said he knew."
*****
Her scream brought me runnin', my Slayer a scant step behind. If my heart was still beating, it would've skipped a beat or two. My 'Bit was being attacked, an' there was nothing I could do about it. The bone thing at the door of her room kept me from getting in, it's steel blade nearly takin' my bloody head off.
"Buffy!" I screamed, throwing myself flat as the steel whistled through the air, "Get to her!"
She didn't acknowledge me, just shoved past the thing as I leapt to my feet. The crippling punch I leveled at it didn't seem to faze it, and the steel blade bit deep into my shoulder. I couldn't keep the cry of pain from my lips, or the demon from my face.
"Bad move, mate," I growled, connecting with punch after punch. Nothin' I was doin' slowed the thing down, and the sword found my flesh twice more before it suddenly barreled past me, down the stairs, and out the front door.
Pushing the pain from my mind, I ran into the room, my 'eart in my throat. Buffy was 'urt, I could smell her blood the second I walked in. And 'Bit, she was gone.
"No," she wailed from her knees, the pain in her heart overwhelming the pain in her side, where steel drew blood. "Please, no..." The sound of gunfire downstairs didn't register to either of us, an' could've 'appened in fucking China for all we cared.
I could only collapse beside her and hold her, my demon hidden again, as we both cried. She was taken from us, again. I knew who took her, and the growl that escaped my throat brought us both back, our anger raging.
"The Necromancer," that bloody, piss-ant bastard would pay.
*****
He dropped to one knee, heedless of the broken glass beneath his jeans as he drew the gun smoothly. I only caught a glimpse of something moving across the lawn as he opened fire. Inside the house, the sound was deafening.
Two shots, and he was up and moving. Numbly, I followed him as he shot twice more. A creature of bone, I could see now. And the dark magics hung heavily around it. The thing was down now, both legs shattered by his expert shooting. I guess he did know how to use the weapon.
"Get everyone," he said coldly, his gun trained on the creature as it struggled to reach him. "They took Dawn."
*****
The gunshots caught my attention. Kinda like lighting a firecracker in a theater, really. The embrace was broken as we pushed away from each other, crouching low and looking for the shooter. It was then we saw the two skeletons, carrying Dawn at an impossible speed.
"Michael," she said, running into the house. I knew. Fucking Necromancer.
I didn't follow her in through the back, instead running around the house and to my car. I drew my father's blade and continued to the front lawn, seeing Xander standing over the creature.
"We've got a problem," he said simply, and I knew it was on two fronts. Yeah, Dawn was taken, but the skeleton he'd downed was getting back up. I had seen these things before, and knew what it took to destroy them. Simply put, me.
Without hesitation, I leapt at the thing even as it brought it's blade to bear. The steel in it's fleshless grip was no match for my blade, and the steel shattered as my blade continued, biting deep and dispelling the dark enchantments on the creature. It collapsed like a pile of dry twigs, then seemed to melt into a foul smelling liquid.
The sensations I normally felt when wielding that blade were dulled by a more potent emotion: rage. I didn't know what he wanted with Dawn, but I definitely had a bad feeling as to what it was. I knew he had to be stopped, but I had no idea how to do it. I've never felt so helpless in my life.
