Chosen One: A Swiftly Falling Darkness
chapter five: faded fire
As a kid, Gunn was taught that churches were sacred places. They might be fancy buildings of stone and stained glass, like this one, or they might be plain wooden buildings with plastic chairs for the congregation, like the one he and Alanna had gone to until their Gran died, but they were special, holy places.
The ideas of vampires taking an abandoned church and turning it into their nest was so wrong that Gunn couldn't even begin to describe how wrong it was.
And the girl strung up in the nave like so much dead meat made it a thousand times worse.
The torchlight gleamed off her barely-clad body, and made black the bloody wounds and welts that the vamps had inflicted on her. It glinted off the trail of blood running from her throat, down over her clavicle and into the white cotton of her singlet top. She was an obscene parody of a saviour; arms spread, head hanging, and sagging with a pain and exhaustion so strong, Gunn could taste it in the air.
Around him, the people who'd preceded them into the church were making muffled noises of terror. Gunn didn't blame them; he felt like being sick himself. Unlike them, however, he could fight back. His fingers tightened around his sword hilt, feeling the leather binding press into his palm.
The urge to slaughter these vamps soared through him, strong as any bloodlust, and he glanced at Angel for the signal to move.
The souled vampire had taken up a position behind them, pretending to be their captor to get them into the church without notice. Now, the hood of his robe was flung back, and he was staring at the half-dead girl with a dawning recognition in his eyes.
Beside Gunn, Wes uttered a single word and stepped backwards out of the line of fearful victims. He moved with a deadly purpose, his arm swinging out to bring his sleeve-sword into play. The first vampire died in a shower of dust as Gunn finally heard what Wes had said.
Faith.
Those nearest the vampire shrieked, drawing attention to them. Gunn cursed as he headed for the nearest knot of vamps, and yelled at the bystanders to get out of the church. He spared a glance for the girl, this time, actually seeing her.
They'd planned to wait for a quiet moment, then break the Slayer out of the church, coming back at daybreak to finish off the vamps. Wes' actions had sent all that to hell, and now there were four of them fighting against God knew how many dozen vamps.
One came at him, expecting an easy kill. Gunn dodged the blow, and slipped the stake into its chest like a hot knife plunged into butter. He turned and kicked out at the vamp coming up behind him, pushing him backwards and into a bunch of civilians. His leg twinged, reminding him that he was only newly healed, thanks to that speed-healing spell Wesley had found. He had mobility, but not flexibility. Damn.
They were seriously outnumbered here, too many vamps and not enough fighters. Heaps of civilians, though, if only a few would fight back and redress the balance.
A few were. Not very effectively, since they had no idea what they were up against, but they were occupying several of the vamps – which meant they weren't trying to take out Gunn and his friends. Cold as that thought was, Gunn didn't have the luxury of concern. Not in the middle of the fight.
He ducked under a punch by a vamp, sticking a stake in its back on the way past, then kicking the one behind it so he had time to reach up for the torch in its holder.
The holder itself was used as a pivot-point as he flung his back at the wall and slammed the torch into the chest of a vamp who'd gotten too close. "Fire in the hole!" Two vamps went up in flames and dust.
Beyond the others swiftly advancing on him, Gunn could see Angel's profile as the souled vampire fought with fist and sword, avoiding the lethal thrusts of his opponents. Closer to Gunn, Wes' sword flashed in and out of the fray with the fury of a madman or beserker.
When they got out of this mess, Gunn was going to have a small talk with Wes about good timing and when not to leap into the middle of a fight where they'd be outnumbered.
Gunn caught a glimpse of Fred's light brown hair, close to where Faith hung. He saw the knife flash to sever the ropes holding her arms in place. He saw the Slayer collapse.
And then the vampires came at him again.
----
Faith was alive.
When Angel brought them the news of the Slayer held captive in the church, Wesley never dreamed it might be Faith. In his mind's eye, Faith was dead, mutilated like the girls in the pictures, in the morgue. He'd thought of her as battle scarred and mutilated, her palms raw and bleeding; the hole in her side gaping its slit edges with ugly mockery.
He'd thought her dead, and her replacement already called.
So when he'd seen her properly, let his eyes rest upon the drag of dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, and the lean, familiar lines of her body, Wesley had acted on his Watcher instincts. And in doing so, he'd endangered his friends.
He regretted it now as he lashed out at another vampire. Its companion moved left, out of his sight, and he struggled to track it and keep an eye on the one he fought. They were vastly outnumbered by their enemies – never a good situation.
A quick feint of his sword to the left caused his opponent to follow his movement, only realising its mistake as Wesley pulled back enough to miss the vampire's arm and reversed his swing to lop off its head. He allowed the impetus of his swing to continue through, turning his back on the creature as it crumbled into dust, and bringing him around to face the one behind him.
It had not expected his movements, and howled as the sword bit into its arm, nearly severing the limb from the torso. Wesley punched it in the chin to get it off the sword, then struck out, aiming for the neck as it stumbled. Another explosion of dust and it was gone.
As he moved to engage a vamp that was attempting to drink of a young woman, he saw that Faith had been cut down from her place in the nave of the church. Fred's doing, no doubt, and a good one. A Slayer – even one weakened by pain and torture – had a strength most humans couldn't hope to match.
But even a Slayer had her limits.
Ordinary humans certainly did.
Muscles in his arms were beginning to ache, just a little. He was short of breath. One of the vamps had punched him in the solar plexus when he'd dropped his sword for a few seconds. But there seemed to be no end to the vampires coming at them and no respite from their efforts.
The vampire that engaged him now was clever and canny, faster than Wesley and with a long, slender bar of ancient iron piping to defend against Wesley's sword. Wesley swung, the vampire parried and riposted, and he felt the shock all the way up his shoulder as he just managed to block the blow.
He saw the punch coming, but couldn't do anything to block it – and then he didn't need to. The vampire exploded in a shower of dust, revealing Faith behind it.
Her eyes met Wesley's and held them, and he couldn't breathe. Then another vampire leaped up behind her, and she whirled to face it, her hair flying dark and whiplike through the air as she blocked its blows.
Wesley nearly forgot to duck the right uppercut the next vamp threw at him. As it was, it snapped his jaw up. He retaliated with his sword, and the vamp was dust and gone. But he was shaken.
Faith had looked back at him with a shocking weariness. The fire he remembered in her eyes was dimmed, almost extinguished.
He'd never seen her like this before.
Someone yelped in pain, and his heart screamed, Fred!
Time slowed. As Wesley dispatched the vampire before him, he saw Angel turn in response to that cry. And the vampire Angel had been fighting saw his chance.
The board hit with a resounding thwack! Angel went down, poleaxed.
Faith screamed something out across the room, the first sign of real passion she'd shown tonight. She scrambled to help him, but the vampire was already lifting the board above his head, angling it so the point would spear down through bone and muscle and into Angel's unbeating heart...
Burnished silver gleamed in the murky darkness. The vampire's head toppled off it's neck, exploding into dust on the way down. A slender, lithe figure whirled away, shoulder-length hair swinging easily about her face.
Her face? Wesley squinted, but the darkness was too heavy for such fine details.
Whoever she, or he, was, they fought with superhuman strength and speed. It was like watching a Slayer in action, and as more of their number fell before the fighter's onslaught, the vampires became wary of her.
Angel was down and not moving, but Faith and Fred were there now, standing over him, back to back. Gunn had his shoulders up in a corner, but he was ably fending off his opponents. Even as Wesley watched, one ignited as it failed to get with the torch he held. It reeled back into its companion and they went up like moths in flames, fluttering wildly before they dissolved into ash.
And then there was one.
Just the one Faith was fighting – the leader of the pack. Wesley's gaze traced her moves, clean and sweet, even in the shadows of the church, in the shadows of her soul. And this time, there was passion.
She slammed her fist into his jaw with the hard crack of knuckles on bone, and swept his feet out from beneath him, lightning fast. The vampire never had a chance against the Slayer. Especially not this one.
He felt a moment's hot pride; an exultation as fierce as the summer sun beating down on his skin. The Watcher's Council had outcast him years ago, but he could still look upon this Slayer and feel pride in her making. Faith's road had been a slow and painful journey, but, looking at her at this moment, Wesley could not say he felt guilt or sorrow at her making. The finest blades had always required many forgings before they were used in battle.
But he had to stop her now.
He reached her side in seconds, and brought the point of the sword down into the belly of the creature, waving Faith away. She stared at him a moment, a frown forming across her face, before understanding rose and she relaxed.
Wesley drew the sword down the vampire's abdomen slowly, watching the blood well up sluggishly - dead blood in a dead body.
"Wes, man..." Gunn's voice betrayed his uncertainty at his actions. Wesley held up one hand and the other man fell silent. Gunn might not understand Wesley's motivations just now, but he trusted that there was a reason for what was happening.
This wasn't going to be pretty, but it had to be done.
"Who hired you?" Wesley asked the vampire.
"I... No-one!" It grunted, "Just kill me and have done with it!"
"Guys, what's going on?" Fred paused as she came up to them, taking in the scene. "Wesley? What..."
He interrupted her, "Fred, check for survivors."
"Wesley?" He didn't need to see her expression, he could feel her gaze on his face, silently arguing with what he was doing. There were a few seconds where he was almost swayed, before he looked at her, without emotion.
"Please, Fred, go check on Angel and look for survivors." He didn't want her watching while he did this. He didn't need the guilt of his actions complicated by her presence.
She looked at Faith, standing pale and composed on the other side of the vampire, and her gaze drifted to Gunn. Then she turned on her heel and went to Angel, walking stiffly. Gunn gave Wesley a searching glance, then nodded and turned away, leaving Wesley and Faith to the interrogation.
He looked into the vampire's dark eyes. It glared back. "What makes you think I have a boss?"
"You kept me alive," Faith said, quietly. "If it wasn't for him, you'd have killed me that first night." Her voice was like ice shards, sharp as knives, with all the emotion of stone. "Someone wanted me alive - someone you fear."
"I fear nothing!" The words were spat, expelled from its mouth as it writhed under the point of Wesley's sword.
"And yet you kept a Slayer alive," Wesley said coolly. "To have a Slayer in your grasp and not turn her?" He made a sound of disbelief. "Tell us and we'll make it fast."
It leered at Wesley, "Worried about your Slayers, Watcher?" Fangs bared in an awful grin, "You should be," it said. "They're all going to die."
Wesley twisted the sword without mercy and the beast howled in pain, a long, drawn-out ululation that trembled the rafters with its echoes.
"Wesley?" Fred again. He closed his eyes against her face, against the appeal behind it. "Don't do this."
Her soft eyes wrenched him to the soul, so he looked away. He looked straight into the empty darkness of Faith's gaze.
Wesley had always thought of Faith as resilient. She took a punching and got back up, stubborn and feisty as ever. That had been her modus operandi for as long as he'd known her. This... This was neither the arrogant chit who'd defied him in Sunnydale, nor the broken girl who'd sobbed in the lane outside the apartment where she'd tortured him. It wasn't the indolent woman who bandied words about from the other side of the prison glass, or the Slayer focused on capturing Angelus.
How long had she been held by the vampires? Two days? Three? They'd sapped her strength as surely as they'd sapped her blood. They'd strung her up in parody of a messiah, and brutalised her mind by making her helpless.
He had to do this.
For the emptiness in Faith's eyes if nothing else - the personal side of who he was.
The Slayers were dying, being killed off with methodical insistence. Just as the First had targeted the Potentials; so, too, was this antagonist targeting Slayers. And if they couldn't find who was behind it and stop them, the deaths would continue. Girl after girl after girl, tortured and killed for something over which she had no choice.
Wesley felt his resolve harden within him.
He'd been brought up by Watchers, trained as one for years. He'd briefly served in that capacity before the Council had cast him out. Watching - protecting - Slayers was deeply ingrained in his psyche.
He turned his back on her, gently disengaging his arm from her fingers as he turned back to the vampire. "Fred, please see to Angel." He wished he didn't have to treat her this way, but this was his responsibility, part of who he was. It went to the core of everything Wesley had been for most of his life, and not even for Fred could he change that.
She went, and Faith's eyes tracked her across the church, before flickering back to rest on his face. She looked down at the vampire. "So," she asked, conversationally. "Were you going to be helpful, or are we going to have to get mediaeval on you?"
"He will do worse to me than that," the vampire said. It looked at Faith, slitted yellow eyes malevolent. "You cannot conceive of what is coming, Slayer." It had lowered his voice to a gutteral whisper, a harsh rustling of leaves amidst the dust of the dead. "You cannot conceive what has been done in your name, for your sake. And it will all be for nothing. He is coming."
"He?"
The yellow eyes flickered out into the darkness. A smile of triumph touched its lips as something whistled through the air, plunging down towards the ground and hitting it with a clang.
Startled, Wesley jerked back, pulling his sword from the vampire as it exploded into dust.
He glared at the boy, "What do you think you're doing?" It was the slender fighter who'd beheaded the vampire, standing coolly in the church nave, facing Wesley.
"He wouldn't have given you any information you wanted," the boy said, insolent, for all that he looked a good dozen years Wesley's junior.
"You can't know that," Wesley snapped. "And you just lost us our best source of information."
The kid shrugged as if he could care less, "I killed a vampire. Deal with it." He turned away.
Incensed by the boy's indifference, Wesley caught his arm, pulling him around to face him, only to have the boy jerk away, pulling himself free with a powerful strength. "Who are you, anyway?"
A scornful look was his only answer, blue eyes contemptuous as they surveyed him, then over to Fred where she stood with Gunn beside Angel, then across to Faith.
Faith, who was swaying on her feet, looking as though she was about to collapse.
Wesley felt his heart leap as she folded up, and all thought of vampires, interrogations, or reckless adolescents vanished as he dropped the sword and caught her before she fell down.
As his arms closed around her, he realised her skin was clammy to the touch. There was no strength in her arms as she pushed at him in protest. "'m fine."
"Of course you are," he said sardonically. He let her go, and she wobbled for a moment before he hooked an arm around her back. "See?"
She glared at him, but the expression had no strength to it and her shoulders sagged. "Just tired," she admitted.
"Exhausted is probably more like it."
Dark eyes studied him, disconcertingly close. "And when did you start playing mother hen, Wes?"
"Probably around the time you started hanging around with these vampires," he said, in all seriousness, indicating the church around them.
He didn't get an answer. She'd shut her eyes and leaned her head back on his shoulder. At first, he thought she was asleep, then, as her body became deadweight, he realised otherwise. After what had probably been a torturous couple of days, Faith the vampire slayer was unconscious.
"Is she okay?" Gunn asked, appearing out of the darkness, breathing as thought he'd just been for a run.
Wesley checked her pulse. Still there and strong. "Probably just tired." He glanced around, already knowing what he'd find. An empty church full of dust and dead bodies, and Angel, Fred, Gunn, Faith, and himself. The young fighter who'd killed the vampire was gone. "Did you see which way that boy went?"
Gunn shook his head. "He took off when you went to Faith. I tried to follow him, but the kid is fast."
Wesley nodded, remembering the way the kid had fought. "Fred? How's Angel?"
She looked up from where she was kneeling beside the downed vampire. "Well, he's still undead, which is a start. But I don't know how long he's going to be out."
"Any human survivors?"
"No," she answered, evenly. "They're all dead." And although it wasn't meant as a reproof, he felt the sting in her demeanour.
Gunn picked up the sword Wesley had dropped earlier. "The next question is 'What do we do about them?'" He made a slashing motion across his throat with his hand, and Wesley felt an uncomfortable pang at the memory of beheading Lilah.
"We'll have to," he said.
"I'll do it," Gunn told him. "There's only about a dozen of them, most of the people got out. We'll call the cops once we're well away from here." He hefted the sword and walked over to the first corpse.
Wesley looked away as the sword swung down. He glance alighted on Fred, who flinched as the first clang sounded. Grisly work, but necessary.
Like the interrogation.
He adjusted his hold on Faith and watched Fred as she tended to Angel. Once again, he was struck by the incongruity of her presence in this church full of vampire dust and dead people. Fred wasn't made for this kind of life. Faith had been called to it, Gunn had been born to it, Angel had chosen it, and Wesley had trained in it.
Fred had fallen into it.
And, although the passing of three years meant growth and change and adjustment, Wesley could never quite shake the feeling that Fred would have been better off elsewhere, doing something else with her scientific brilliance. At Wolfram and Hart, she was approaching that potential, but still...
He never said anything to her, but the feeling lurked in the background nevertheless.
Gunn's methodical beheadings continued in the background as Fred busied herself with Angel, and Wesley looked down at the girl leaning heavily against him.
She was thin, almost skeletal. He wondered how long she'd been a prisoner. He wondered how long she'd been in LA.
He wondered how long she was going to stay.
"Will she be okay?" Fred asked, standing up and indicating Faith.
"I think so," Wesley answered. Slayers were made physically strong; she'd recover from her mistreatment in a couple of days. Emotional scars... Wesley chose to avoid thinking about those too closely. The awareness that more than a few of her internal scars bore his fingerprints on them made such thoughts uncomfortable. The memory of what she'd done in 'repayment' for them was equally discomforting. "She'll be up and about in a couple of days."
"She's alive, anyway," Fred murmured. "It's more than we thought a couple of days ago."
Wesley's answer to that was forestalled as Gunn came up. His expression was grim after the macabre task he'd just performed, but no more than he'd been when Wesley had first met him. "We ready to go?"
"Can you shoulder Angel?"
Gunn could.
They went.
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