Author notes at the end.
Chapter Nine – No Rest for the Wicked
"Building yourself your own little prison, I see," Spike groused as Faith opened the door to the apartment.
"Screw you," she told him without much venom behind the statement.
"Not in this lifetime, that's for sure. Screwing one slayer was enough for this old dog. Can I come in?"
Faith stood in the doorway, blocking the vampire's entrance. Might as well, she thought. She hadn't talked to another soul for almost a week, unless you counted the lady at the checkout counter of the Ralph's supermarket.
"Yeah, whatever." Faith gestured for him to come in.
"Missed you at the lovefest I've been having at the hotel." Spike stood with his hands crossed in front of him. He did not look pleased. "Too busy slaying to take some time out for the folks?"
"No. No slaying." Faith could not look him in the eyes. She knew she'd find too many questions that she was not ready to answer.
"Hmm. Let me get this straight. The slayer, the girl who gets the itch after, say, a few hours if she hasn't killed or maimed something hasn't been out in how long? Three weeks now? Is that right?"
He was right. She didn't want to answer the question though. It was none of his damn business. "None of your damn business. Who died and made you my watcher?"
Faith hadn't meant to say it. Spike just shook his head in dismay. She really was not liking the vampire at the moment.
"Faith, this is just not like you. Get out and kill something. You need to get back into the game."
"This is not a game. My life is not a game, Spike. I am tired of it being a game. Now excuse me. I'm just going to get some tea."
Spike glared at her, shocked at her attitude. He could stuff that right up his . . . .
"Tea? There's got to be something wrong with this apartment. Some demon possessed you with the spirit of your watcher. You don't drink tea."
Faith sat down at the table with her porcelain cup. "I do now." The smell was even calming her as she sat. Why didn't he realize that?
"What if I were to tell you the whole world is fucking falling apart? Would you care?"
Faith shook her head no. The world could fucking fall apart and she would sit in that apartment and watch it fall away.
"Am I the only one around here with any sense? Me? I'm supposed to be the crazy, irresponsible one. That's it."
Spike grabbed Faith around the waist, pulling her up. He reared back his fist and punched her hard in the face. Faith went down, and didn't get up.
"Fight back, damn you. You're the slayer. You're supposed to fight back."
Faith just sat and looked up at him. "Go play with your blue demon. I'm not in the mood."
She got up and went back to her tea. Spike would not anger her. She would not be baited into punching him back.
Spike looked around, at anything to figure out the problem. He wouldn't find anything, Faith wanted to scream at him. The more she stayed still, the less she wanted to slay, the less she wanted any contact with her former life. Spike was a reminder of it.
"Go away, Spike. Just go away," she calmly told the vampire.
"Yeah. I'll be back to check on you." He left without saying another word.
Spike leaned heavily against the now closed door. Had some demon sucked the life out of Faith? Or had the last years finally caught up with her? It was time he asked for help with her. He didn't want her ending up like Fred had. His life was complicated enough without Faith adding to the mix. He'd even lie to get those damn Scoobies to come to her rescue. Time to make a plan, he thought.
As he headed off towards the hotel, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was following him. Several someones from the smell of them. Demon probably. He'd been waiting for the bastards to come after him for the little demon bashing party that he and Angel had thrown. He couldn't believe that Faith hadn't felt that itch. He certainly was feeling it now. Being down for three weeks had made him stir crazy. Even sparring with Illyria wouldn't have made him feel better.
As he rounded the corner, he stepped aside, into a dark doorway. Two vampires strode past, looking ahead. Spike also spotted across the street a couple of Fyral demons trying to keep to the shadows. Man, he must be hot. To send that many demons after little old him, made him feel all mushy inside. He'd show them just how dangerous he could be.
Slipping out of the doorway, he quietly stalked the two vampires in front of him. He figured that taking down the easier prey first would work to his advantage. The Fyral demons would be tougher for him. Backup would have been nice, but what was a souled vampire to do.
Grasping the stake in his pocket, he lightly stepped up to one of the vampires, plunging the stake forward. Dust flew everywhere. Damn vampires, he thought. No pride in being stealthy anymore. The second turned, only to be met by a fist to the face. Now that felt good, he cheered gleefully to himself. To hit something. His undead heart sang.
He met with some resistance, but being as old as he was, he had moves that this fledgling could only dream about. The guy went poof a few seconds later, speared by his wrist stake. Angel's toys were sometimes a joy to play around with.
The problem with taking care of the two vampires was it attracted the attention of the other demons across the street. Damn, he really should start carrying a sword with him also. The buggers after him were a little too big and nasty just to be taken out by a dagger or stake.
Spike took off at a run, dodging the demons until he found a fire escape to climb up. Reaching the roof, he took off, looking over his shoulder to see if they followed. Which meant he didn't see the other three mean-looking Rundar demons right in front of him until he heard one of them growl. He'd run into these types of demons before. They were fast, they were smart, and most of the time they were deadly. They also had body armor, which made killing them something of a chore. Punching wouldn't really hurt them, but his fist would feel it. Knives would be better to use. The only thing in his favor was they were about his size. He hated it when his opponent was larger than he was.
"Vampire," the gray-scaled thing hissed his way.
"Hey, what's your beef? Me, I'm walkin' home, all nice and innocent like."
The Rundar actually laughed. It sounded more like a bark than anything. Didn't make Spike feel very polite.
"You are a menace. You need to be taught a lesson." The Rundar advanced.
Spike danced on the balls of his feet, ready to pummel the first one to come his way. Now this was more like it, he thought. The vampires had done nothing to quell that need for violence. These guys would do just nicely.
That was until two small hands came up behind the first one and snapped his neck. Spike shook his head in disgust and dived for the other two. Why oh why was he plagued with her?
Illyria pushed the body away from her, catching one of the demons he had dived for, dragging it away. Spike got in two good, bloody punches to the remaining one, making the thing stagger slightly. The armor held, for now. Reaching for his dagger, Spike slashed out at his opponent, but missing by a mile. Fighting with Illyria was sometimes disconcerting. He never knew what to expect of her, not knowing where she would end up. At least with the poof Angel, he knew the vampire's moves.
The Rundar attacked him full force again, pulling his own dagger from his middle, which then the bastard morphed into a broadsword. Oh, he had forgotten that little trick the damn things could pull. Made hiding and carrying weapons much easier.
"Hey, it's not the size that matters, it's the motion."
The demon actually became distracted, so Spike took that opportunity to swipe out, catching the creature on the arm, drawing blood, body armor be damned. It howled in fury, swinging the broadsword in a wide arc, almost taking Spike's head off.
"Come on, you disgusting, asexual bastard. You couldn't get yourself off to save yourself."
The demon sneered at him, at least that's what Spike thought was a sneer, but it gave him another opportunity to drive home the dagger. It connected again, this time on the thing's front.
"You pansy. If the way you swing that sword is the way you get some, it's a wonder that your species ever screws."
The Rundar tried stabbing him in the abdomen, for which he quickly dodged. What is it about demons and sex? Talk about being a eunuch, and they all crumble. He didn't dare look over to see if Illyria had crushed her foe. He could still hear sounds of a fight, so she must be holding her own. No taunting from her though. Her style was efficient and deadly, from what he remembered of the alley. Her grief had taken her to new heights of violence.
"I'm just wonderin' if you're a eunuch? Sure fight like it."
The creature growled, putting its head down to charge. Spike jumped out of the way, making the thing go tumbling off the side of the building, landing with a big splat far below. So much for body armor. That didn't protect you from fifteen stories of momentum.
Turning, Spike watched as Illyria still took on her opponent. This one looked to be the biggest of the three. Since she was just a little slip of a thing, she had the advantage of quickness. And she didn't even show signs of tiring.
"Need help, Blue?" he asked calmly.
"This insignificant being is no match for my wrath," she growled back at him.
Spike watched as she gathered a full head of steam, finally taking the demon in her hands and beating him to a bloody pulp. And she kept whaling on the guy, until Spike took mercy on it. He grabbed her fist in his hand to still it. A deadly look passed between the two, then Illyria slowly lowered her balled up hand.
"Get it done," he told her as he backed away slightly.
Illyria nodded her head quickly, and then kicked the Rundar in the air, sending it over to join its friend on the pavement below. But by the looks of it, she was still in hunt mode. Turning her attention to Spike, she started circling him like he was the prey.
"Listen, we need to get back to Angel. Make sure no one went after him."
"Why did you stop me? I needed to dispatch him."
Spike snorted. No, she needed to kill the bloody bastard, dispatching was just another word for it.
"You shoulda just snapped him in two. But you've been cooped up too long for just that, haven't you?"
He watched her closely. Her blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. He wasn't sure whether he might be the one to get snapped in two at this point. The violence pored off of her in waves. He thanked whatever deity he had not been alive when she ruled. She was one tough bitch.
"The need to do violence is strong tonight. Don't you feel it? It sings to me. It calls to me. To feel it run through my veins."
"Yeah. Whatever. Sounds like a slayer. Maybe you could teach Faith a thing or two about that."
Illyria sneered at the sound of the slayer's name. He figured that she shared some of Fred's memories about the dark-haired slayer. Since not all of the watcher's dealings with his charge had been pleasant, he wondered if at some point Illyria would challenge Faith. Of course, if what happened tonight was any indication, Faith would let the ex-god take her pound of flesh and then some.
"The girl does not concern me. What concerns me is you, half-breed. You attract these demons like . . . ."
"Flies? Magnets? Yeah, sort of figured that out. You need to dial it down a notch so we can make it home in one piece. Capish?"
Illyria stopped her stalking to look at him strangely. "I do not understand your use of language, Spike."
Spike almost staggered when Illyria used his name. Always a first time for everything in his book. He flashed her a grin, reaching his hand out hoping she would take it. What he couldn't believe was her ice blue eyes. They softened slightly, crinkling just a little around the corners. Was that some human emotion trying to break forth or did she have something in her eyes?
"Thank you," for not beating the crap out of me, he thought, not voicing it. Maybe, just maybe he was getting through to her on some level.
"You are using words . . . ."
"That are nice. Well, get used to it. Just like you'll get used to saying my name. Just like you'll get used to those emotions swirling around that brain of yours."
He saw her swallow visibly, which was another one of those human things people did when they were uncomfortable. But she clutched his hand, eyes wide at the gesture.
"Your hand is smooth to the touch. Cool. Not at all like the human."
"Room temperature."
Illyria stared at their connection a moment longer, turning her head just so as she contemplated the situation. Spike wondered what could be going on in that head of hers. He knew that Wesley had never given her any kind of connection other than to throw snide, hurtful comments her way. But it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. She did take away the one thing that seemed good in the world to him.
"It is pleasant."
So he had pleased the blue-haired creature. Would wonders never cease? He still didn't know what Illyria expected out of him.
"Let's go check on Peaches."
Spike tugged on her slightly warmer hand, wanting to get off that roof before any more demons showed up to take them on. His heart just wasn't in it at the moment to kill a bunch of losers.
"I do not understand why you call him a name of a fruit."
Spike laughed at the memory. "It's a long, long story, love."
Faith wanted to punch the wall after Spike walked out. Who was he to tell her what to do? Sure, she wasn't in the game at the moment. But she was entitled to some downtime. Even the perfect Buffy took time off every once and a while. Maybe not three weeks of sulking in a depressing apartment with bad memories surrounding her, but hey, what's a girl to do.
She sat at the dining table, opening another one of those damn diaries. They weren't in any particular order, so whatever she came to, she read. Man, she never knew how much anger could build up inside one person, except for herself. At least she got some release from some of it. Wesley held it all in until it exploded. Not a good thing to do, her counselors in prison had explained to her. Outlets helped the need for violence. She kept reading, entranced by Wesley's need to pore this out on paper.
The next entry was dated from October 2001. She almost spilled warm tea down her front reading the first lines on the page. "I tried to kill Fred yesterday. They all said it was demon possession, but I knew better. Billy Blimm just brought out the things that needed to be kept hidden. It didn't take me long to take my anger out on the one person that least deserved it. But isn't that what humans do. Take out their anger and frustration on the innocent and helpless. Fred proved to be neither one of those. Living in Pylea those long years has made her resourceful and strong, something I never could be. She'll never speak to me again after the atrocities I committed against her, that I was going to commit against her once I caught up with her. I can never set foot in the hotel again knowing that she is not safe with me in the same room. She will always look at me and flinch. I have ruined any chance of being with her. Will she ever forgive me?"
Faith shivered in acknowledgment. Hadn't she done the same thing to him a little more than a year before this incident? Had taken his innocence, if only figuratively, made him see the world just a little differently? Wesley hadn't deserved to be on the other end of her fists. But he had been resourceful, just like Fred had been, if only to take the unwarranted punishment that she meted out. Now she wondered how the two had gotten around that incident and had remained close. Time and a common bond had worked for former watcher and slayer.
Aching head blinding, Faith decided that a long, hot shower and bed was all she needed to chase away the bad demons in her head. Her muscles relaxed after the shower had finally turned cold. Lying down on the cool sheets with just a dark t-shirt between her and the soft bed, she drifted off without too much trouble.
The dreams wouldn't leave her alone. She thought about her time in Sunnydale, all the violence she had committed. How she had killed that man, tried to blame Buffy for it. Her taste for the bad, including trying to turn Angel and almost strangling Xander during sex. Her escape to Los Angeles, only to torture Wesley and battle with Angel. The torture had seemed so sweet at the time, to only turn on her quickly. She had seen what she had done to her former watcher the next day, seen the look in his blue eyes. She remembered each punch, each cut, each taunt. All the things that had gone through her mind touching his body, needing some kind of release, whether it be sexual or death.
She'd never forget the haunted look in his eyes as the police led her away into an interrogation room. That same look had remained in her dreams, until he had surfaced at the prison. Taking that look from his face could have been something she finally accomplished. He looked a little better before she left for Sunnydale. Oh, how she wished she had come back. Regrets made her chest feel heavy, like the burden of his death could never be lifted.
Wesley watched Faith's dream with wide eyes of astonishment. It explained why she holed herself up in his former apartment. Guilt racked even her dreams. She had dug herself a hole, which she might have trouble climbing out of.
"I can't watch, Wes," Cordelia called out to him from the door.
"Fine. Don't worry about me."
"Yeah. I need to go deal with my own insane basket case. Good luck," she said as she pushed the door of the cottage open.
He didn't even hear her leave as he concentrated on Faith's punishment of herself.
"Faith, you have to stop this," he whispered, hoping that her subconscious heard him.
He entered the bedroom, wanting to try and stop her thrashing. It looked like the poor woman hadn't slept well in weeks. The dark circles under her eyes hurt him that he may have been the cause of her grief. She sobbed quietly into her pillow, but still asleep. He wanted to touch her badly, to stroke her back, and take away the pain. Being non-corporeal, he couldn't touch a thing in this world. So he used his voice to soothe her hurt.
"Faith, shh." Her thrashing stopped, but her limbs were still restless. "That's it, love. Just sleep. You need to rest," he told her softly.
She sighed in her sleep, settling in against the pillow finally. Her dream had faded, to be replaced by a deep sleep. If that were all he could give her, then it would be a big step in her healing. One thing that he understood now was in their connection, he could feel all of her pain. Every time he opened himself to her, he'd feel that pain and depression coming from her. So he just wouldn't have to feel empathy towards her. He would want to solve her problems, just to stop the pain and anguish poring from her heart.
What was it like to feel that from Angel, he thought? He was surprised that Cordelia was still standing. Faith had only a few short years to build up to this. Angel had centuries. He'd pore over the book he had been given, try to make her life more meaningful and happy.
"Is it ready, master?"
"It will be, in time. We will have vengeance against them."
Five very scary demons sat around a circular table, each with a ring on what passed as fingers. The blue veins on their hands throbbed with each word, each beat of their evil hearts.
"The wheels are turning. They will not know what hit them. The infiltration will be the final blow."
Another one's eyes glowed with the words. "Make sure none of them survive this."
"Don't concern yourself. All is going according to plan. The vampire will fall, along with his companions."
The five shook their heads in agreement. All of them at once pulled away from the table, chanting an ancient chorus of revenge. Down the hall from the ceremony, in a room devoid of nothing but that instrument of revenge, something dark and evil moved through the air.
Next: The promised Angel scene. And someone familiar shows up looking for Faith. And he or she wants something Faith may not be willing to give up.
Author notes: shahid—as usual great ideas. I will incorporate some of that shortly. I'd love to see Spike teaching Illyria about the world, not just her emotions, although I think that needs to be a part of it all. Also, as much as I dislike Kennedy (yeah, there are characters that I can't stand), I'm not sure she'd fit in this fic. You never know.
Imzadi—I might take your suggestion. Maybe pair Lindsey and Lilah up together? I don't know. I'll see where it takes me.
Dduck—Wesley's feelings at the point of part of the journal were raw. I think that maybe he did hate Angel there for a little while. He certainly was hurting major big time. But I still think that he loved Angel. He didn't have to like him though. You know the saying, I don't like you right now, but I still love you, or something like that. So all your comments are right on.
Tariq—yes, I will fix Gunn. But not yet. It isn't time. And I'm not sure I want to bring the Scoobies in too much. Not to take the focus away from Faith, Spike, Wesley, and Illyria. I have enough points of view to write! Spike is so hard to write!!
Thanks to all who have commented: pari106, Jess, tp96, and everyone else who may have been following the story. Wow, I have never had so many great ideas!!! Keep them coming!! I love you guys. I love reviews. OK, I'll stop now.