Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

Summary: Post AtS and BtVS, Faith and Xander are approached by a secret government agency. Surprises all around.

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 9: Hero

Faith glared at Spike. "Oh, for crying out loud!" she yelled, her voice cracking midway through. She'd already spent almost a day in hell with him, and things were just looking worse and worse.

"No, really," Spike insisted. "I said the one thing I was afraid to say, and the door opened. You just say something you don't want to say, and the force field thing should drop."

Her glare intensified. She reflected briefly that if he were still a vampire, she could have hit him without even the slightest bit of guilt on the subject. Alas, now he was human and the joy of force-feeding him his own guts were to be denied to her.

Unless, of course, she were to go evil again. That was always an option.

"So you just want me to spew my frickin problems until we can go in?" she asked, hating the very fact that she was even saying this.

Faith was not a 'sharing' type of gal. The closest she'd ever gotten to that had been Robin, and that had been because he'd seen right through most of her poses. Not because she'd told him anything.

Sure, there had been a lot she'd told him. But it wasn't ever the deep stuff, the old stuff, the important stuff. She was at heart a very private person, and wasn't about to tell Spike, who was more or less a complete stranger, the story of her life.

Spike gazed at her, tilting his head. "Okay, or not," he said shortly, turning away from her. She'd been expecting him to hit her again, and snorted impatiently at this new tactic.

"What, guilt tactic? Trying to get me to just spill cause you're ignoring me? Grow up," said Faith impatiently.

Spike turned back to her, an annoyed look on his face. "Look, you think this whole gig is for me? Screw it!" He turned and started walking away.

"What gig is that?" yelled Faith.

He glanced over his shoulder. "The whole hero thing!" he shouted back, still walking away. "You know, your gig."

He stopped about fifty feet from her, and even at that distance she could see that his shoulders were shaking. She couldn't tell if it was from rage, laughter, or even some kind of fit. At this point she didn't really care.

"What is your problem?" she yelled. Under her breath she added, "stupid vampire."

"Not a vampire any more," he said, and she moved forward, trying to hear him. He turned around, repeating it louder. "I'm not a bloody vampire any more!"

"You still act like one," retorted Faith. "You brood, you yell, you act like a four-year-old. You should just freaking grow up."

Spike stalked closer to her. "Oh, goody," he said sarcastically. "Let's analyze me. Why do we fight, luv? Answer me that one."

Faith stared at him. "Why do I fight with you? Because you're dumb, stupid, and a shi—"

"No," interrupted Spike impatiently. "Not why do you fight with me. Why do we go on fighting the forces of darkness? Why do you get up and fight the world, every bloody day?"

She stared at him, uncomfortable aware that they'd gone back to analyzing her. She wished she could somehow get some control of this conversation. "Duh. Sacred calling," she said flippantly.

"Sacred calling," muttered Spike. "That's terrific, you know. I've killed more of your kind than anybody else, you know. Although Dru's working on catching up, but I'm still the man, the killer of Slayers." Spike spread his arms wide. "Tell me, why do I fight?" He glared at her, daring her to answer him.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Right, because it isn't about Buffy, right? So you're just a hero, huh? All goodness and light?" she taunted him.

He glowered at her. "Funny, inn't it?" he asked, moving closer so that he was right in front of her. "Remind you of something? Oh, yeah, that sacred calling thing?" He moved closer, a smirk playing across his lips. "That's just a mask. The easy reason that we throw up front, the one we hide behind. That's what you are, hiding. Big, tough girl like you, hiding behind a front. Inn't there a word for that?"

Once before, when he'd confronted her about usurping Buffy's position, he'd managed to goad her into hitting him. After that she'd vowed to keep a cool head around Spike, to stay calm, and not to hit him.

She'd forgotten just how easily he could rile her.

She slammed a fist into his face, rocking him backwards. "Shut your freakin mouth!" she demanded, moving forward, into his personal space. He rocked back, eyes widening in pain, and clapped both hands to his face.

"Ow!" he yelped, glaring at her. "Yeah, that's right, bury your problems, don't talk about them, just hide behind your fists!" He turned away, stalking further away from the portal.

Faith glanced back at the door, then followed him.

--

When Xander, Dawn and Riley arrived in the dark, heavily guarded inner compound Giles was just getting ready to go inside, holding a notepad and a pen. He hesitated when he saw them, surprised.

"Worried we wouldn't approve?" asked Xander, a bit bitterly.

Giles stared for a second, then shook himself. "I know how you feel about vampires, Xander," he said carefully. "And we desperately need answers right now."

"About Angel, Spike, and just what drove them to what they did?" asked Dawn. "Yeah." She glanced at Riley. "Open the door," she said, her voice every bit as bossy as her sisters. He blinked rapidly in surprise, then nodded to the soldier standing by the door.

Drusilla sat in the middle of the large room, chained to the floor. She looked up at them vacantly, drug-dulled eyes blinking to try to clear the mists of her mind. A smile curled up around the corners of her mouth.

"Come to play, have we?" she purred.

Giles stood in the doorway, glancing at the soldiers standing guard. They all seemed reasonably alert, but he knew that Drusilla's hypnotic thrall had been what killed the Slayer Kendra, not any fighting power Drusilla had brought to bear.

He kept his gaze down. "Ah, yes," he said. "We were hoping you would tell us about Spike."

"Spike? What Spike?" she asked, her accent mangling the name into 'spoike.' "He's gone away, far away, leaving the William-beast to torment me."

"The soul," said Xander. "We got that."

Drusilla considered him, tilting her head. "Do you truly? I think the death and blood and stars have all spoken, and they don't like you at all."

Xander shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, right. What about Angel?"

Her smile returned. "The Angel-beast is gone forever now, isn't he? I can see the new night dawning in darkness and blood, and it's a good night for me." She rocked her head back and forth. "He'll come for me, daddy will," she added quietly.

"I doubt it," replied Giles. "He's forgotten you, moved on to shinier, newer pastures."

Dawn glanced at Giles in surprise, not expecting the sudden goad. Drusilla reacted violently, jumping to her feet and jumping to the end of her chains. They gave a loud clang as she reached the end, and she stumbled back a step. "Nooo!!" she wailed, clutching her hands to her ears.

As she rocked back and forth Dawn glanced to Xander, who was fidgeting, his body language clearly showing how much he wanted to be out of there. Giles, however, moved forward, triumph on his face. "But the William-beast came back for you. Why?" he asked.

"Not the same!" shrieked Drusilla. "Oh, you're so naughty!" she complained. Her scowl was petulant, childish.

Xander stepped forward, swallowing. "What happened? Why did the Angel-beast die?" he asked. Drusilla looked up, surprised. "Come on," said Xander with a nervous smile. "You want to talk about that, don't you? You like to talk about it."

"Because he was too good," pouted Drusilla. "Oh, you've been wicked, wicked, wicked," she purred. "Breaking into hell, haven't you?" Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Uh, yeah, that was Spike," he replied.

"He went to the lawyer, who wanted to kill him so badly," she sobbed. "My Spoike all gone, and the William-beast searching for a home in hell."

"Why was he searching for that home?" asked Xander.

"Because he's good, now," spat Drusilla. "Because he's killed all the dark things, and now wants to find even darker shadows."

Xander felt his stomach flip-flop within him. "He really does want to kill the bad things?" he asked.

Drusilla slowly deflated, as if she were a balloon and the air were being let out. She descended slowly, sitting on the floor and awkwardly wrapping chained arms around her knees.

"He's all a mess, my Spoike," she said mournfully. "All good and noble, and all the things he hates." She turned her gaze to Riley. "And you've made him worse!" she hissed. "All your noble words and plans to rotten, rotten goodness, feeding him on ashes and dust!"

--

Buffy glowered at Connor as he ate, trying to will his digestive system to break down, or at least for some small choking to start up as he wolfed down the food.

He continued to eat unabashedly, shoveling the food in. The green demon was off somewhere else in his safe haven, grumbling.

"So, you've been hanging out with Spike," said Buffy cautiously.

"Yep," said Connor, putting his fork down.

"Has he...mentioned me?" asked Buffy uncertainly.

Connor frowned. "I can't say that he has," he said carefully. "I mean, he did explain everything about you and my dad, and your relationship, and that you and he...sort of had a relationship. But he never talked about you."

Buffy grunted, shaking her head. "Great, just great," she mumbled.

"Although he...he was really bitter when he talked about you and dad," admitted Connor. "I mean, more than usual. He's kind of mad about being human now, too."

"He's always been a little too complicated for his own good," muttered Buffy. "So, what now? You have some kind of backup plan?"

Connor shrugged. "Actually, we're about done with this plan. Spike'll do his job, and I'll do mine."

"And what's your job?" asked Buffy.

"Well, I go back to college," said Connor uncertainly. "Maybe. I've got to wait here for Spike, though—at least forty-two hours."

"Why?" asked Buffy.

"Because we're supposed to meet here if we get out of hell," replied Connor. "You know, because...uh..."

There was a knock at the door, and Connor stood quickly, running to it. "You've got the stuff?" he asked.

The girl who entered was a little shorter than Connor, and stuck her tongue out at him. "I got the stuff, doofus," she replied, sidling in with a box full of stuff. "Who's this, one of your soldier friends?"

"Um, no, this is Buffy. She's a Slayer," said Connor. "Buffy, this is my sister, Sarah. Sar, just put it anywhere."

The girl sighed, tossing her hair impatiently. "Whatever, dipweed," she said. Buffy noted that despite the insults she quickly obeyed Connor.

"Your sister?" asked Buffy, taken a little off guard.

Sarah deposited the box in the corner, ignoring Buffy. "I've got your stupid paperweight collection, your 'spellbooks'—if mom finds out about any of this, she'll go ballistic, you know."

"I know," said Connor. He turned back to Buffy. "We just have a little work to do."

"Work?" asked Buffy.

"Angelus is out there, and I want your help taking him down," said Connor grimly.

"Angelus?" asked Buffy, her eyes widening. "Angel!"

Connor rolled his eyes. "Now I have to explain, don't I?" he sighed. "Sar, why don't you go get some food from Lorne? This is going to take a while."

Sarah shook her head. "Come on, you can talk shop with me here, can't you?" she asked, eager to be involved. Connor rolled his eyes.

Buffy sighed. "Tell me about Angelus," she said.

--

Faith watched Spike carefully as he kicked the ground, scuffing the toe of his boot across the purple gravel. The bleached-blonde ex-vampire was grumbling under his breath, and she noted that his scowl was still fixed firmly in place.

She wanted very badly to go hit him till he stopped annoying her. She was beginning to work out Xander's undying hatred of the apparently now mortal demon. In fact, she was just about ready to start beating on the now-alive skinny twit herself.

He looked up at her, and his scowl deepened. His next kick at the ground sent up a cloud of green dust.

He was standing just short of the door, close enough that if he turned too fast it was going to send him flying again.

He continued working at the ground with his foot, seemingly oblivious to the world. When he suddenly spoke Faith gave a slight jump, not expecting it. "Talking's not so bloody hard," he muttered. "S not like I asked you to do anything."

Faith wondered if she should just ignore him. She was getting pretty thirsty, not to mention that she hadn't eaten for a few days.

He moved away from the door, still scowling. "I mean, sure, you went bad," he said. "Doesn't that make you a lot like the creatures you hunt?"

"You're fishing," snapped Faith. "You don't know nothing about me, or why I went bad!"

"Don't I?" asked Spike, amused by her response. "I seem to recall something about taking Buffy's body...her life. Something about wanting what she had—don't tell me that's all in my head."

Faith shook her head. "That's gone and done," she said. "I got over it. She got over it. Why don't you get over it?"

"Oh, have I touched a nerve?" mocked Spike. "Let me hit another one."

"No, why don't I?" snapped Faith, balling her hands into fists.

"Violence? Oh, there's an original answer," taunted Spike. "And you must just be seething that the one-eyed carpenter is your Watcher, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" snarled Faith.

"Didn't you try to kill him, back in the day? Oh, mercy me," said Spike happily, dancing from one foot to the other. "I bet that makes for a few awkward silences. Why'd you try to kill him, anyway? Did he call you a worthless thing?"

Faith swung at Spike, who dodged out of the way quickly. "No?" he continued. "Well, then maybe he tried to save you. A bad habit of his, trying to save his women...well, women he wishes were his...you never slept with the puppy-boy, did you?"

Faith silently swung again, this time hitting Spike. He rocked back, a grin on his face. "You did! Aw, I'll bet he just clung to your ankles after that. And you went bad, and he tried to save you. And look what you gave him for his troubles. Did you hurt him, Slayer?"

"No!" she snarled.

"Aw, torture hurt your poor, delicate stomach?" taunted Spike.

"You think I don't know evil?" demanded Faith. "You think I don't know torture? I just saved it for my Watcher, that's all."

"Who was your Watcher, Giles?" asked Spike, amused. "That's a good one. He never let on."

"No," said Faith, snarling. "A friend of Angel's."

Spike's face hardened instantly. "Wes?" he asked, surprised.

Faith froze, astonished. She'd forgotten for a minute that Spike had been with Angel at the end. "Yeah, Wes," she said softly.

"You cut Wes up?" repeated Spike. "I bet that went over real well." His face was dark, and for a second Faith thought that Spike was going to attack her. But he pulled back instead. "Now you run around Slaying with your old bedsheets buddy, eh?" He moved closer. "I bet it hurts a lot, doesn't it? The one part of your past that you're just dying to forget, the part where you hurt someone who only ever did good to you—and you're stuck with it all the time."

Faith backed away from him slowly, unable to hold on to her rage any longer. She could feel tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, and swiped at her eyes furiously with the back of her hand. "Shut up," she managed to whisper.

Spike stopped walking forward, and for the first time she saw how much of the demon was still in him. The purple shadows across his face cut the fine lines of his cheekbones into a hellish mask, behind which she could actually see sympathy that burned under her skin like a million hells.

In his bright blue eyes she could see compassion, something that hurt worse than his fists ever could. She looked away, not able to bear the torture in his mocking voice and caring eyes. "Just shut up!" she managed to snap, her voice rising a little bit above a whisper.

He raised his hands as if in surrender, something mocking in the way he did so. "Sorry to have got under your skin," he said, his voice mocking.

But now she was all too aware that beneath the mocking voice there was a bitter edge. She turned back to him slowly. "And you think you know what that feels like?" she asked acidly.

"Buffy ever tell you why I went to find a soul?" asked Spike. Faith shook her head. "I tried to rape her," said Spike, his voice cracking on the word. Faith took a half step back, the word surprising her.

"What?" said Faith, angry again. And what was she angry about? It's not like Spike had done any worse than she'd tried to do to Xander that time in the motel so long ago when he'd tried to help her.

Still, she couldn't help remembering the way Buffy had reacted to the vampire, the ways Buffy had seemed to forget. The way he'd been forgiven.

"And you came back with a soul, and that was all gone, huh?" asked Faith bitterly.

"Don't see you and the monkey-boy acting all tiptoes and velvet," snarled Spike. "And you think I forgot? You think Dawn forgot? I lost Dawn that day—didn't know it at the time, but she never forgave me, you know. And you think you own the market on angst and tears and all things ugly and spiteful? Hah. At least for you the whelp isn't a constant stream of spite."

"No, only a twenty-four hour source of guilt!" snapped Faith right back, trying to grab back some of the rage.

He cocked his head to one side suddenly, appraising her. "And what hurts worse, that you tried to hurt him, or that he won't even talk to you now?"

Faith scowled at him. "Don't try to psychoanalyze me," she spat.

Spike shrugged. "You kind of love him, don't you?" he asked.

"No!" she said urgently, her eyes widening.

"You spend all your time wishing things could be different, watching him and wishing he'd look at you," hissed Spike. "You wish he would just notice you at least, treat you like a person. You spend all your time trying to protect him, and he doesn't even notice."

Every word was so on the mark that Faith felt a squeezing, hot pain in her chest. "Stop it!" she yelled.

He smirked. "I've been there, on that trip," he said, mocking her. "Kind of hurts, doesn't it?"

She turned away, rejecting the sympathy he offered. "He's nothing to me!" she spat. "Not now, not ever!"

Spike moved closer. "Deny all you want, he does mean something to you," he whispered. "And you broke that all when you hurt him, didn't you?"

She scowled at him. "Don't analyze me," she threatened again. Only her voice was still losing its force, and now she could barely even hear herself. She turned away, trying to walk away, but he stopped her by dropping a hand on her shoulder.

"You're here because you tried to kill Xander, you know," he said. "All that rot about a Holy Mission or whatever—it comes down to the man you tried to kill. The one who haunts you. You can never make it right...but you keep trying anyway."

She wasn't able to hold back the hot tears anymore. She could feel them streaming down her cheeks, and kept her head turned from him so he wouldn't notice. "Go soak your head," she managed to croak.

In the annals of comebacks, it wasn't even a footnote. It was a footnote to a footnote about pathetic comebacks.

Spike's hand was warm on her shoulder, and he gave a gentle squeeze. "You're not alone here," he whispered.

She tried to pull free, but he somehow turned her lunge away from him into something else, pulling her back and turning her around, and somehow she was in his arms, holding him and sobbing.

He just held her, one hand on her back moving slowly to soothe her. He didn't say anything more, words gone for the moment.

After a moment she opened his eyes, staring at the door behind him. She could see air moving through the door now, where it had been stagnant before.

"You jerk," she whispered, pushing him away.

He shrugged, adjusting his duster. "You aren't going to complain that I was using you, are you?" he asked, a bit angry already. "It was the only way out of here, and you knew it."

"You're a heartless bastard," she replied coldly. "Let's get out of here."

They walked through the open portal together.