Author: Teenwitch
Email: Emi074@msn.com
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, UPN, The WB and
Mutant Enemy. I claim no ownership or infringement of any kind.
Spoilers: Set post Chosen/Home.
Feedback: Welcome.
Distribution: BA_Fluff, SempiternalBeloved, Fanfiction.net, and anyone else
who asks are welcome to it.
Rating: Ranges in different chapters, but let's give it a good solid R at
present.
Summary: Destiny has its own design.
****
Chapter Four: "Thin Line"
****
Wesley's involved, drawn out explanation about the Prowlers had resulted in one decision for Buffy, and that was action. It was rare for her to act with her fists these days, but she found a refreshing kind of therapeutic kick out of the occasions it became necessary, and this was one of those times.
What she knew about Wolfram and Hart was mostly second hand, information she read in the papers about their charity acts and articles whenever they made a top client – which included a fair amount of the more wealthier Los Angeles population – but what went on beyond their doors, at least before Angel was in charge, had been relayed to her through Faith. And Faith knew enough to have her questioning their corporal image.
She had difficulty understanding why Angel got involved with them in the first place. It wasn't like him to take the easy route out, but there was a lot she didn't know about him these days, and she had to admit that could very well be one of them.
Whatever his reasons, as she strode along Wilshire Boulevard towards downtown with her palms balled into fists, she didn't think it was good for him. Just the fact that he preferred to send in a clean-up team than involve himself in the process worried her about his priority order.
If another apocalypse *was* on the way, he needed to get it straight.
And the feel of his eyes surveying her, where he thought she couldn't see, was enough to make her stop dead in her tracks and back-pedal furiously.
To his credit, he sensed her arrival before he glimpsed her. She came to a halt with the toes of her boots scantly touching the shadow of an overhanging building he took shelter under, folding her arms irritably over her chest as she glared at him. He wasn't sure, but her stance bathed in the sun's unhealthy rays – unhealthy depending on undead status – seemed somewhat intentional, as if she sought protection from him.
"I thought we'd matured past the whole stalking issue", she said charily.
He stepped closer to her, circling in a way that made her feel like the prey under a predator's watchful gaze, and only reinforcing her stalker point.
"You think you can really take on those demons yourself?" he said brusquely, instead of replying. They weren't here to discuss his vampiric habits. He smiled, but there was no humour in it. "I'd almost say being out of commission the past few months has made you sloppy."
Her mouth fell open. Where the hell did *that* come from? She knew he was only insulting her to distract her from her mission, but still. It took more than that to dissuade her these days, and where did he get off calling *her* sloppy?
"You've been studying these demons, haven't you?" she asked snappishly.
He frowned. "Yes".
"Then I might not know anything about fighting them, but you certainly do. And I don't see you running out, in full US Cavalry, save the day mode. I thought that was your gig here in L.A.? Help the hopeless. Don't see much of it going around. I see clean-up crews and big interpersonal political chumming around. Don't call me the sloppy one when you can't even keep your priorities in check, Angel".
He gave her an angry, cold glare, stepping as close to her as the sunlight would allow. His expression instantly shifted from one of careful indifference to fury, and he jabbed a finger in her face.
"Don't you dare ever come into *my* city, asking for my help, and tell me how to do my job. I don't need any favours, and I don't need *you* to mouth off about things that don't concern you".
Buffy narrowed her eyes, unflinching from his invasion of her personal space. She had never been afraid of him, and she wasn't about to start. She had been waiting for this confrontation. After their last meeting, it seemed inevitable. They had been so nice, so polite, both fully aware that it could have been the last time they would see each other before the First obliterated their world, and being careful to resolve things. But when were things ever resolved between them?
He knew about her feelings for Spike, and he had told her he would wait for her when they both knew things could turn out otherwise. Not exactly the building grounds for a committed friendship.
"Now we're past pleasantries, why don't you just get it out?" Buffy snapped. "Tell me what you really think? I'm the slayer", she said flatly. "May not be the only one anymore, but its still in the job description. It's what I do. And it doesn't exactly mark out preferred territory, so I'm sorry if I've invaded *your* city." She waved her hands. "What the hell are you doing here, Angel? Signing up on Evil Team Number One, moving up in a big swanky, upmarket office so the only satisfaction you get out of helping people is a big fat pay check from on high, or whoever the hell is in charge over there? This isn't like you".
He glared down at her. "Well, maybe you don't know what is like me anymore", he growled.
Oh, *that* was harsh. Buffy flinched, taking a step backward, until she was completely swathed in light.
"Innocent people are dying out there", she said unequivocally. "I'm going out there to do something about it. Maybe you don't care anymore, I don't know, and to be honest I don't give a shit. Don't worry, because as soon as I take care of this, I'll be out of L.A. And *don't* follow me. Considering it's three in the afternoon and the smog is shifting, I don't think that'll be much of a problem."
She whirled to turn away, and his hand shot out, closing around her wrist and pulling her back. The smell of burning flesh stung her nostrils, and he swore, jerking his palm back against his silk shirt. He narrowed his eyes down at her, anger heartened by the pain in his hand.
"You think I don't care?" he said coldly, teeth clenched. "Let's get something straight. My reasons for joining Wolfram and Hart are private, and have nothing to do with you. But they weren't out of convenience. I did what I had to for people I care about. I care. It just isn't enough anymore."
He stepped back from her, eyes burning uncomfortably into her face, and then he melded back inside the shadows and disappeared from her sight, leaving his words to echo in her mind.
****
Faith pounced on her as soon as she walked into their suite.
"Where the hell you bin, B?" the brunette demanded, pausing completely in her karate exercises to approach the older slayer. She grasped a water bottle from the dresser table near the door, and took a giant swig, swiping the perspiration from her face. "I was edging on worried there, you know", she said pointedly. "Next time you wanna go buddyin' around with Angel or whatever you two do, you could at least leave a note."
"I was not—"
Buffy cut herself off as Faith waved a copy of the council restraining order Angel had left behind in her face.
"Angel stopped by to put the final scrunch on our council problem", Buffy informed her tiredly, flopping on the hard motel bed mattress. "That's all".
"'That's all'? The crater across the street fit into that explanation at all, B?"
"We had a... little demon problem", Buffy said evenly, closing her eyes. "It's taken care of. For now, at least."
"And you're going to explain when? I mean, I figured there was something funky going on when I saw all the damage on the news, but I didn't know what."
Buffy lifted her head slightly, looking at Faith suspiciously. "We didn't pay for cable, Faith."
Faith rolled her eyes, brushing her brown hair behind her neck and pulling it up into a loose ponytail. "Okay, so I took a little detour on my run. That a crime?"
"And this detour wouldn't happen to be Robin's comfy little downtown condo, would it?" Buffy said knowingly.
Faith turned her back, crouching to clean up her gym equipment, which Buffy took as a yes. Faith doing anything remotely like tidying had to be a sign of guilt.
"How was he?"
Faith slumped her shoulders, rocking back so she was on her heels, and turning to look up at Buffy on the bed. "Fine", she said tightly. Her relationship with Robin was new to her, and nothing short of rocky, and she didn't feel like discussing it. He was the first decent guy she had met who had an interest in her – barring Xander maybe – and she had never exactly been Explore Things From Every Angle chick. Well, least not the psychological sense. Point was, she was happy to just let things lie proper.
"Quit messing with the convo", she said irritably; seeing Buffy was fully intent on steering clear of her own topic. They were on her issues here, not Faith's. "What's going on? It's not everyday L.A. gets run-over by invisible chaos. And if it is, I gotta start watching the news more often".
Buffy wondered at the context of Faith watching the news at Robin's anyway, but decided pursuing the topic was pointless and definitely a way to pick up information she'd prefer not to know.
"They were... Gashindo demons or something. Wesley thinks they mean the end of the world is coming. As in pretty seriously nigh".
Faith cocked her eyebrows, swiping a stray tendril of hair out of her face. "Bummer".
"Yeah. About sums it up."
Faith stretched, yawning wearily. "So. What we gonna do about that?"
"*We* aren't doing anything. Angel was pretty vocal in his opinion we aren't needed here. Wolfram and Hart are going to handle it. And I say good luck to them. I've filled my apocalypse quota for the decade. Let someone else deal with it for a change."
Faith looked at her disbelievingly. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
"It's none of our business, Faith. And that's fine with me. Angel handled our problem, and he can manage his own. He doesn't need us."
"He doesn't need you, you mean?" Faith surmised perceptively.
Buffy ignored her, laying back against the pillows, and grabbing the phone from the nightstand. "I'm going to call and check up on Dawn. I'll tell her we're coming home tonight. If you want to stay a couple more days that's fine. But I'm leaving".
Faith watched her, deep frown marring her face as Buffy made the call. If Buffy wasn't telling her everything that didn't come as much of a shocker, considering they weren't the tightest of share-all buds. But she felt they sort of had common ground where Angel was concerned, and Buffy could at least confide some thoughts on that scale.
She was leaving out something big, and it was gonna eat her up if she didn't spill it soon. Faith sighed. And she'd thought *her* maturing was overdue.
****
"You kicked her out?"
Angel refused to feel any guilt under Fred and Wesley collective stare as he leaned back in his leather armchair. "Technically she kicked herself out", he said flatly. "I just didn't argue the point".
Wesley scowled, throwing his up arms in incredulity. "I don't believe this", he fumed. "After Lorne's vision, and everything we've discovered, you're sending Buffy home when she could very well be in danger?"
"She'd probably be safer there, anyway", Angel said stubbornly.
Wesley whirled at him face-on. "That's bloody rot, and you know it", he snapped. "This isn't a game, this is serious, and for once could you just put aside your bloody issues and see that. You let your emotional prejudice get in the way of the job, and its one time too many in my opinion. Petty squabbling won't amount to anything when Buffy ends up dead."
Angel straightened, feeling an irrational urge to strike out in his anger. "Oh, and you haven't let your emotional prejudice win out before, have you Wes?" he said in a patronising tone. "There's no guarantee what we're dealing with is as dire as the apocalypse, and we don't know if Lorne's rendition of his vision is even the right one. We're in charge of a multi- million dollar law office now, and a hell of a lot more people to be responsible for along with it. We can't afford to make second-guesses, definitely not where the End of Days is concerned."
He rose to his feet, stalking across the Persian rug his secretary had ordered in to decorate his absurdly gloomy office, and turned to face the necro-plated windows staring out over the darkening city.
"You know this isn't nothing, Angel", Wesley said seriously, approaching him from behind. Angel could see the ex-watcher's reflection in the glass, and the strain thinning his features. Over the summer he had at least partially shaved the thin stubble that seemed as constant in him as his rumpled suits, but he still held that roguish sort of air about him, even if he had no memory of what had been its cause.
Angel again reflected what a good thing that probably was.
His friend's gaze probed into the back of his head as he spoke, and even if Angel hadn't seen it in his reflection he would have felt the urgent gesture. "I've sent a message to the senior partners. Lilah should be here tomorrow to shed more light on the situation. Of course I would never tell her of our suspicions, or Buffy's involvement, but we can't simply ignore these resources."
Angel sneered distastefully, keeping his back turned. He knew all too well how valuable the resources here were, and Lilah never ceased to grow tired of waving it in his face. He definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with the savvy, sarcastic lawyer.
"I don't want the partners involved in this", Angel grunted in a low voice.
Wesley sighed irritably. "Nor do I, but you're leaving us with few alternatives, Angel".
Angel turned his head, eyeing the man side-on expectantly. "So what do you want me to do?"
He was C.E.O and President of Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles branch, but damned if he didn't always feel like it.
Wesley glanced back at Fred, taking comfort in her calming presence, and turned resolutely back to face his best friend.
"Get Buffy", he said stoically. "I don't care what you have to do. Apologise. Beg. But get her here. If she is in danger, it won't be long before she's targeted".
****
Booking tickets out of L.A. on a Friday night wasn't exactly roses, but Buffy was fixated on leaving the city as soon as possible, and she was too impatient to wait until morning.
Faith felt too guilty to let Buffy make her Independent Woman Movement alone, and reluctantly loaded her bag onto the bus behind her, inwardly wondering when public transportation became flavour of the month. But she knew they couldn't risk her driving into Los Angeles with her outstanding arrest still so recent, and she was a shit driver anyway. Though she was Grand Prix pro in comparison to Summers, queen of all fender benders. So hence the bus that smelt like a mixture of urine, sweat, and smoke.
Buffy refused to engage in any kind of conversation, and turned on her Discman as soon as they got on the bus, leaning her head pointedly back against the headrest and twisting so her gaze was fixed out the window.
Faith sighed, riffling in her backpack for the snickers bar she bought from the vending machine on the way in, resigning herself to the silent treatment and disappointment to be leaving Robin so soon.
"Amen, sister", she muttered.
Maybe she should just move down more permanently, she mused to herself as she chewed. It wasn't like she was doing anything incredibly gratifying in Rio Dell. Buffy and her friends had the whole slayer gig under control, and Robin had a sweet set-up going for him in L.A. She was sure he wouldn't mind them shacking up together... at least until she could find an apartment. Of course then she'd have to find a job, and then she'd have to avoid the cops... Maybe she'd just shack up indefinitely. Wood wouldn't mind a freeloader too much... not one with her skills...
She barely noticed a shudder in the bus when they began to cruise through the depot gates; she was so immersed in her thoughts. They had been lucky, they both agreed to take a late bus, and it wasn't overly crowded. There were only a few other passengers apart from themselves, including a young Hispanic couple, a few men dressed in flashy business suits probably too cheep to commute by subway, and a sleazy, tattoo-sheathed guy who gave her a suggesting leer down the aisle.
Faith gave him a crude gesture with her middle finger, and the bus jerked again, this time more violently. The Hispanic woman gave a startled yelp, and a few passengers straightened in vague concern, looking up to the driver in annoyance.
Faith nudged Buffy, forcing her to remove her earphones.
"Hey", she said quietly. "Do you hear—?"
A loud ripping sound cut off her sentence, like the sound of fingernails over a blackboard magnified a few thousand decibels. The driver gave a loud shout, and his grip twisted fiercely around the steering wheel as the bus veered violently into the next lane.
Car horns blared as they swerved from the road, and passengers swore loudly, clutching onto the seats in front of them white-knuckled as the bus began to wrench from side-to-side, as if the driver was in the middle of a tug-of-war with an invisible opponent.
Even from her seat Faith could see the tree, but she had no time to shout out words of warning.
They slammed headlong into it, rocking everyone forward in their seats. The bus driver's front window shattered, and a large branch snagged the air inches above his head. Silence crowded the vehicle, except for combined heavy breathing, and he slowly removed his hands from the steering wheel, turning to glance anxiously over his shoulder.
"Is everyone—?"
The ripping sound invaded the silence, and cold night air rushed into the interior as the metal on the roof curled effortlessly upward. A contorted, blackened hand appeared from the sudden void, and closed around the head of the closest passenger, a young businessman who opened his mouth in a silent scream. The sound never left his windpipe.
His body slumped forward in the aisle, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling from a head no longer connected to a body.
The screams started before Buffy and Faith had even made an attempt to move into action, and the young Hispanic couple were being wrenched from their seats and disappearing over the side of the bus. Blood splattered back over where they had been seated, like an image from a twisted slasher movie come alive.
And kicking bad.
Other passengers shot from their seats, vainly elbowing and shoving their way past each other to make for the exit.
Faith and Buffy moved in silent accord. They scaled the side of the bus in a few swift, easy jumps, launching through the hole in the ceiling and landing solidly on the roof above.
The remains of the young couple littered the road beside the bus, and the enduring windows of the bus also shattered, raining shards of deadly glass in on the other passengers. The slayers raised their fists, tensing into positions for combat.
Already they could see the damage the demon had caused to the outside of the bus, and the sheer claw marks that marred the tough, grey metal left a deep dread in Faith's gut. She spun so she was back-to-back with Buffy, desperately scanning the outer perimeter for their hidden attacker.
It stood below them with the limp body of the bus driver cradled in its arms. It was colossal, head almost reaching the top of the Greyhound, its skin an inky blackness that unnaturally blended with the shadows around it. Almost as if it were one with them. The only thing about it remotely colourful were its eyes, and they were a deep, blood red, glowing amber in the overhead moonlight, and filled with a coldness Faith had never quite seen.
It tossed aside the man as if he was a rag doll, and then it fixed its gaze on them.
It looked kind of hungry.
"Oh fuck".
Faith realised her hands were shaking, and that she and Buffy were both weaponless, and open targets.
Buffy seemed paralysed to move, and Faith sprung into movement, giving her a hard shove in the side. "Buffy!"
Buffy shook her head, eyes reflecting their fear as they focused on something else behind her. Faith glanced around, and swallowed. In the intervening time they had been trapped inside the bus, the demon had used its victim's blood, and carved a crude, inhuman symbol on the barren earth.
That symbol was what filled Faith with an unexplainable, intrinsic dread that seeped down into soul, as if calling to the very slayer within.
The demon came at them.
It slammed its hulk into the side of the bus, catching them both off-guard, and sending them toppling over the side in opposite directions.
Faith smashed face-first into the dirt, and the taste of her own blood invaded her senses. She tried to roll onto her back, but something hard, sharp and cold connected with her skull.
She heard Buffy's scream moments before she slipped into the darkness.
****
TBC
****
Chapter Four: "Thin Line"
****
Wesley's involved, drawn out explanation about the Prowlers had resulted in one decision for Buffy, and that was action. It was rare for her to act with her fists these days, but she found a refreshing kind of therapeutic kick out of the occasions it became necessary, and this was one of those times.
What she knew about Wolfram and Hart was mostly second hand, information she read in the papers about their charity acts and articles whenever they made a top client – which included a fair amount of the more wealthier Los Angeles population – but what went on beyond their doors, at least before Angel was in charge, had been relayed to her through Faith. And Faith knew enough to have her questioning their corporal image.
She had difficulty understanding why Angel got involved with them in the first place. It wasn't like him to take the easy route out, but there was a lot she didn't know about him these days, and she had to admit that could very well be one of them.
Whatever his reasons, as she strode along Wilshire Boulevard towards downtown with her palms balled into fists, she didn't think it was good for him. Just the fact that he preferred to send in a clean-up team than involve himself in the process worried her about his priority order.
If another apocalypse *was* on the way, he needed to get it straight.
And the feel of his eyes surveying her, where he thought she couldn't see, was enough to make her stop dead in her tracks and back-pedal furiously.
To his credit, he sensed her arrival before he glimpsed her. She came to a halt with the toes of her boots scantly touching the shadow of an overhanging building he took shelter under, folding her arms irritably over her chest as she glared at him. He wasn't sure, but her stance bathed in the sun's unhealthy rays – unhealthy depending on undead status – seemed somewhat intentional, as if she sought protection from him.
"I thought we'd matured past the whole stalking issue", she said charily.
He stepped closer to her, circling in a way that made her feel like the prey under a predator's watchful gaze, and only reinforcing her stalker point.
"You think you can really take on those demons yourself?" he said brusquely, instead of replying. They weren't here to discuss his vampiric habits. He smiled, but there was no humour in it. "I'd almost say being out of commission the past few months has made you sloppy."
Her mouth fell open. Where the hell did *that* come from? She knew he was only insulting her to distract her from her mission, but still. It took more than that to dissuade her these days, and where did he get off calling *her* sloppy?
"You've been studying these demons, haven't you?" she asked snappishly.
He frowned. "Yes".
"Then I might not know anything about fighting them, but you certainly do. And I don't see you running out, in full US Cavalry, save the day mode. I thought that was your gig here in L.A.? Help the hopeless. Don't see much of it going around. I see clean-up crews and big interpersonal political chumming around. Don't call me the sloppy one when you can't even keep your priorities in check, Angel".
He gave her an angry, cold glare, stepping as close to her as the sunlight would allow. His expression instantly shifted from one of careful indifference to fury, and he jabbed a finger in her face.
"Don't you dare ever come into *my* city, asking for my help, and tell me how to do my job. I don't need any favours, and I don't need *you* to mouth off about things that don't concern you".
Buffy narrowed her eyes, unflinching from his invasion of her personal space. She had never been afraid of him, and she wasn't about to start. She had been waiting for this confrontation. After their last meeting, it seemed inevitable. They had been so nice, so polite, both fully aware that it could have been the last time they would see each other before the First obliterated their world, and being careful to resolve things. But when were things ever resolved between them?
He knew about her feelings for Spike, and he had told her he would wait for her when they both knew things could turn out otherwise. Not exactly the building grounds for a committed friendship.
"Now we're past pleasantries, why don't you just get it out?" Buffy snapped. "Tell me what you really think? I'm the slayer", she said flatly. "May not be the only one anymore, but its still in the job description. It's what I do. And it doesn't exactly mark out preferred territory, so I'm sorry if I've invaded *your* city." She waved her hands. "What the hell are you doing here, Angel? Signing up on Evil Team Number One, moving up in a big swanky, upmarket office so the only satisfaction you get out of helping people is a big fat pay check from on high, or whoever the hell is in charge over there? This isn't like you".
He glared down at her. "Well, maybe you don't know what is like me anymore", he growled.
Oh, *that* was harsh. Buffy flinched, taking a step backward, until she was completely swathed in light.
"Innocent people are dying out there", she said unequivocally. "I'm going out there to do something about it. Maybe you don't care anymore, I don't know, and to be honest I don't give a shit. Don't worry, because as soon as I take care of this, I'll be out of L.A. And *don't* follow me. Considering it's three in the afternoon and the smog is shifting, I don't think that'll be much of a problem."
She whirled to turn away, and his hand shot out, closing around her wrist and pulling her back. The smell of burning flesh stung her nostrils, and he swore, jerking his palm back against his silk shirt. He narrowed his eyes down at her, anger heartened by the pain in his hand.
"You think I don't care?" he said coldly, teeth clenched. "Let's get something straight. My reasons for joining Wolfram and Hart are private, and have nothing to do with you. But they weren't out of convenience. I did what I had to for people I care about. I care. It just isn't enough anymore."
He stepped back from her, eyes burning uncomfortably into her face, and then he melded back inside the shadows and disappeared from her sight, leaving his words to echo in her mind.
****
Faith pounced on her as soon as she walked into their suite.
"Where the hell you bin, B?" the brunette demanded, pausing completely in her karate exercises to approach the older slayer. She grasped a water bottle from the dresser table near the door, and took a giant swig, swiping the perspiration from her face. "I was edging on worried there, you know", she said pointedly. "Next time you wanna go buddyin' around with Angel or whatever you two do, you could at least leave a note."
"I was not—"
Buffy cut herself off as Faith waved a copy of the council restraining order Angel had left behind in her face.
"Angel stopped by to put the final scrunch on our council problem", Buffy informed her tiredly, flopping on the hard motel bed mattress. "That's all".
"'That's all'? The crater across the street fit into that explanation at all, B?"
"We had a... little demon problem", Buffy said evenly, closing her eyes. "It's taken care of. For now, at least."
"And you're going to explain when? I mean, I figured there was something funky going on when I saw all the damage on the news, but I didn't know what."
Buffy lifted her head slightly, looking at Faith suspiciously. "We didn't pay for cable, Faith."
Faith rolled her eyes, brushing her brown hair behind her neck and pulling it up into a loose ponytail. "Okay, so I took a little detour on my run. That a crime?"
"And this detour wouldn't happen to be Robin's comfy little downtown condo, would it?" Buffy said knowingly.
Faith turned her back, crouching to clean up her gym equipment, which Buffy took as a yes. Faith doing anything remotely like tidying had to be a sign of guilt.
"How was he?"
Faith slumped her shoulders, rocking back so she was on her heels, and turning to look up at Buffy on the bed. "Fine", she said tightly. Her relationship with Robin was new to her, and nothing short of rocky, and she didn't feel like discussing it. He was the first decent guy she had met who had an interest in her – barring Xander maybe – and she had never exactly been Explore Things From Every Angle chick. Well, least not the psychological sense. Point was, she was happy to just let things lie proper.
"Quit messing with the convo", she said irritably; seeing Buffy was fully intent on steering clear of her own topic. They were on her issues here, not Faith's. "What's going on? It's not everyday L.A. gets run-over by invisible chaos. And if it is, I gotta start watching the news more often".
Buffy wondered at the context of Faith watching the news at Robin's anyway, but decided pursuing the topic was pointless and definitely a way to pick up information she'd prefer not to know.
"They were... Gashindo demons or something. Wesley thinks they mean the end of the world is coming. As in pretty seriously nigh".
Faith cocked her eyebrows, swiping a stray tendril of hair out of her face. "Bummer".
"Yeah. About sums it up."
Faith stretched, yawning wearily. "So. What we gonna do about that?"
"*We* aren't doing anything. Angel was pretty vocal in his opinion we aren't needed here. Wolfram and Hart are going to handle it. And I say good luck to them. I've filled my apocalypse quota for the decade. Let someone else deal with it for a change."
Faith looked at her disbelievingly. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
"It's none of our business, Faith. And that's fine with me. Angel handled our problem, and he can manage his own. He doesn't need us."
"He doesn't need you, you mean?" Faith surmised perceptively.
Buffy ignored her, laying back against the pillows, and grabbing the phone from the nightstand. "I'm going to call and check up on Dawn. I'll tell her we're coming home tonight. If you want to stay a couple more days that's fine. But I'm leaving".
Faith watched her, deep frown marring her face as Buffy made the call. If Buffy wasn't telling her everything that didn't come as much of a shocker, considering they weren't the tightest of share-all buds. But she felt they sort of had common ground where Angel was concerned, and Buffy could at least confide some thoughts on that scale.
She was leaving out something big, and it was gonna eat her up if she didn't spill it soon. Faith sighed. And she'd thought *her* maturing was overdue.
****
"You kicked her out?"
Angel refused to feel any guilt under Fred and Wesley collective stare as he leaned back in his leather armchair. "Technically she kicked herself out", he said flatly. "I just didn't argue the point".
Wesley scowled, throwing his up arms in incredulity. "I don't believe this", he fumed. "After Lorne's vision, and everything we've discovered, you're sending Buffy home when she could very well be in danger?"
"She'd probably be safer there, anyway", Angel said stubbornly.
Wesley whirled at him face-on. "That's bloody rot, and you know it", he snapped. "This isn't a game, this is serious, and for once could you just put aside your bloody issues and see that. You let your emotional prejudice get in the way of the job, and its one time too many in my opinion. Petty squabbling won't amount to anything when Buffy ends up dead."
Angel straightened, feeling an irrational urge to strike out in his anger. "Oh, and you haven't let your emotional prejudice win out before, have you Wes?" he said in a patronising tone. "There's no guarantee what we're dealing with is as dire as the apocalypse, and we don't know if Lorne's rendition of his vision is even the right one. We're in charge of a multi- million dollar law office now, and a hell of a lot more people to be responsible for along with it. We can't afford to make second-guesses, definitely not where the End of Days is concerned."
He rose to his feet, stalking across the Persian rug his secretary had ordered in to decorate his absurdly gloomy office, and turned to face the necro-plated windows staring out over the darkening city.
"You know this isn't nothing, Angel", Wesley said seriously, approaching him from behind. Angel could see the ex-watcher's reflection in the glass, and the strain thinning his features. Over the summer he had at least partially shaved the thin stubble that seemed as constant in him as his rumpled suits, but he still held that roguish sort of air about him, even if he had no memory of what had been its cause.
Angel again reflected what a good thing that probably was.
His friend's gaze probed into the back of his head as he spoke, and even if Angel hadn't seen it in his reflection he would have felt the urgent gesture. "I've sent a message to the senior partners. Lilah should be here tomorrow to shed more light on the situation. Of course I would never tell her of our suspicions, or Buffy's involvement, but we can't simply ignore these resources."
Angel sneered distastefully, keeping his back turned. He knew all too well how valuable the resources here were, and Lilah never ceased to grow tired of waving it in his face. He definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with the savvy, sarcastic lawyer.
"I don't want the partners involved in this", Angel grunted in a low voice.
Wesley sighed irritably. "Nor do I, but you're leaving us with few alternatives, Angel".
Angel turned his head, eyeing the man side-on expectantly. "So what do you want me to do?"
He was C.E.O and President of Wolfram and Hart's Los Angeles branch, but damned if he didn't always feel like it.
Wesley glanced back at Fred, taking comfort in her calming presence, and turned resolutely back to face his best friend.
"Get Buffy", he said stoically. "I don't care what you have to do. Apologise. Beg. But get her here. If she is in danger, it won't be long before she's targeted".
****
Booking tickets out of L.A. on a Friday night wasn't exactly roses, but Buffy was fixated on leaving the city as soon as possible, and she was too impatient to wait until morning.
Faith felt too guilty to let Buffy make her Independent Woman Movement alone, and reluctantly loaded her bag onto the bus behind her, inwardly wondering when public transportation became flavour of the month. But she knew they couldn't risk her driving into Los Angeles with her outstanding arrest still so recent, and she was a shit driver anyway. Though she was Grand Prix pro in comparison to Summers, queen of all fender benders. So hence the bus that smelt like a mixture of urine, sweat, and smoke.
Buffy refused to engage in any kind of conversation, and turned on her Discman as soon as they got on the bus, leaning her head pointedly back against the headrest and twisting so her gaze was fixed out the window.
Faith sighed, riffling in her backpack for the snickers bar she bought from the vending machine on the way in, resigning herself to the silent treatment and disappointment to be leaving Robin so soon.
"Amen, sister", she muttered.
Maybe she should just move down more permanently, she mused to herself as she chewed. It wasn't like she was doing anything incredibly gratifying in Rio Dell. Buffy and her friends had the whole slayer gig under control, and Robin had a sweet set-up going for him in L.A. She was sure he wouldn't mind them shacking up together... at least until she could find an apartment. Of course then she'd have to find a job, and then she'd have to avoid the cops... Maybe she'd just shack up indefinitely. Wood wouldn't mind a freeloader too much... not one with her skills...
She barely noticed a shudder in the bus when they began to cruise through the depot gates; she was so immersed in her thoughts. They had been lucky, they both agreed to take a late bus, and it wasn't overly crowded. There were only a few other passengers apart from themselves, including a young Hispanic couple, a few men dressed in flashy business suits probably too cheep to commute by subway, and a sleazy, tattoo-sheathed guy who gave her a suggesting leer down the aisle.
Faith gave him a crude gesture with her middle finger, and the bus jerked again, this time more violently. The Hispanic woman gave a startled yelp, and a few passengers straightened in vague concern, looking up to the driver in annoyance.
Faith nudged Buffy, forcing her to remove her earphones.
"Hey", she said quietly. "Do you hear—?"
A loud ripping sound cut off her sentence, like the sound of fingernails over a blackboard magnified a few thousand decibels. The driver gave a loud shout, and his grip twisted fiercely around the steering wheel as the bus veered violently into the next lane.
Car horns blared as they swerved from the road, and passengers swore loudly, clutching onto the seats in front of them white-knuckled as the bus began to wrench from side-to-side, as if the driver was in the middle of a tug-of-war with an invisible opponent.
Even from her seat Faith could see the tree, but she had no time to shout out words of warning.
They slammed headlong into it, rocking everyone forward in their seats. The bus driver's front window shattered, and a large branch snagged the air inches above his head. Silence crowded the vehicle, except for combined heavy breathing, and he slowly removed his hands from the steering wheel, turning to glance anxiously over his shoulder.
"Is everyone—?"
The ripping sound invaded the silence, and cold night air rushed into the interior as the metal on the roof curled effortlessly upward. A contorted, blackened hand appeared from the sudden void, and closed around the head of the closest passenger, a young businessman who opened his mouth in a silent scream. The sound never left his windpipe.
His body slumped forward in the aisle, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling from a head no longer connected to a body.
The screams started before Buffy and Faith had even made an attempt to move into action, and the young Hispanic couple were being wrenched from their seats and disappearing over the side of the bus. Blood splattered back over where they had been seated, like an image from a twisted slasher movie come alive.
And kicking bad.
Other passengers shot from their seats, vainly elbowing and shoving their way past each other to make for the exit.
Faith and Buffy moved in silent accord. They scaled the side of the bus in a few swift, easy jumps, launching through the hole in the ceiling and landing solidly on the roof above.
The remains of the young couple littered the road beside the bus, and the enduring windows of the bus also shattered, raining shards of deadly glass in on the other passengers. The slayers raised their fists, tensing into positions for combat.
Already they could see the damage the demon had caused to the outside of the bus, and the sheer claw marks that marred the tough, grey metal left a deep dread in Faith's gut. She spun so she was back-to-back with Buffy, desperately scanning the outer perimeter for their hidden attacker.
It stood below them with the limp body of the bus driver cradled in its arms. It was colossal, head almost reaching the top of the Greyhound, its skin an inky blackness that unnaturally blended with the shadows around it. Almost as if it were one with them. The only thing about it remotely colourful were its eyes, and they were a deep, blood red, glowing amber in the overhead moonlight, and filled with a coldness Faith had never quite seen.
It tossed aside the man as if he was a rag doll, and then it fixed its gaze on them.
It looked kind of hungry.
"Oh fuck".
Faith realised her hands were shaking, and that she and Buffy were both weaponless, and open targets.
Buffy seemed paralysed to move, and Faith sprung into movement, giving her a hard shove in the side. "Buffy!"
Buffy shook her head, eyes reflecting their fear as they focused on something else behind her. Faith glanced around, and swallowed. In the intervening time they had been trapped inside the bus, the demon had used its victim's blood, and carved a crude, inhuman symbol on the barren earth.
That symbol was what filled Faith with an unexplainable, intrinsic dread that seeped down into soul, as if calling to the very slayer within.
The demon came at them.
It slammed its hulk into the side of the bus, catching them both off-guard, and sending them toppling over the side in opposite directions.
Faith smashed face-first into the dirt, and the taste of her own blood invaded her senses. She tried to roll onto her back, but something hard, sharp and cold connected with her skull.
She heard Buffy's scream moments before she slipped into the darkness.
****
TBC