Fists and Fangs
My fist hits the vampire's face with the satisfying crunch of a breaking nose. Blood spurts down his face as he stumbles backwards trying to get away from me. A sharp kick catches him in the stomach and he doubles over in pain, glaring up at me through yellow eyes.
"Start talking," I growl as I slip a stake out of my pocket.
"Go to hell."
"Planning on it. But my travel plans aren't the discussion." There's a crack as my boot connects with his jaw. "Vampires. Lots of them. Sent after me. Who's behind it?"
"I don't know."
"I don't believe you."
"Fuck you." The vamp disappears into a cloud of dust as my stake pierces his heart.
Sighing, I brush dust off of my arm and trek through another row of crypts. One cemetery down. Fifteen more and two dozen demon bars to go. At this point I don't care if I have to kill every vamp in New Orleans and torture every demon in North America. I'll do whatever I have to do to find Faith.
For a change of pace, I head into the darker side of town, glancing warily around me at the condemned buildings and threatening graffiti. Three blocks south and a left turn brings me to a seedy looking bar where the patronage is unusually exotic even for New Orleans. It's a busy night and there are half a dozen species of demons that I don't recognize as well as the ubiquitous fangs, horns, scales, and reptilian style tongues. If possible, it's dirtier than Willy's back in Sunnydale and most of the furniture has obviously seen better days.
I make my way to the bar and order a drink. My blue jeans and tan shirt stand out like a neon sign. Maybe I had gotten rid of my duster a little prematurely. It didn't matter now. The blood and liquor goes down smoothly as I scan the crowd, trying to pick out my next victim. Vampires talk. They love to talk. Someone has to know who was behind the attack.
"You're that vampire." A greenish skinned demon sits down next to me, blinking black liquid eyes at me curiously. "The one with the soul. Angel."
How many times do I have to tell people that I'm not Angel? I'm already in a bad mood and it takes everything I have not to beat the moron's skull in. Is it really that hard to understand that there is more than one vampire with a soul? Halfway through my internal ranting, I stop, trying to calm down and finish off my drink. I don't have time to break the kneecaps of everyone who pisses me off.
"I heard you were in L.A," the creature continues amiably. "I have a cousin there. Nice girl. Maybe you know her?"
"Not likely, mate. Big city." I keep my tone civil, deciding to take advantage of the rare friendly demon. "Looking for someone who might have information about a raiding party two nights ago. Vampires."
"I heard about that. After William the Bloody." The creature shuddered. "Most of them didn't make it. I've heard stories about that guy. Goes by Spike nowadays."
"Stories?" I can't help but feel flattered. "What stories?"
"I heard he's killed three Slayers." Black eyes blink and his voice lowers to a whisper. "He had some sort of chip in his head for a while, kept him from hurting humans. In order to get it out, they had to take out part of his brain. Rumors say he's completely insane now. Crazy as a loon. Kills anything that crosses his path, human, demon, doesn't matter."
"That so?" I keep my voice flat. Bloody morons.
"The vamps who tried to catch him, they were part of the north central gang. Cable's territory. Probably wanted to recruit him."
"Recruit?" That was unexpected.
"Haven't you heard? Slayer line's getting a makeover. They'll hunt you down and nowhere's safe anymore. Used to be...the Slayer stayed on the Hellmouth. Things are gonna change." It stares into its drink for a moment with an expression somewhere between depression and panic. "Need someone to take them down before they kill us all."
Frowning, I ask for directions to find Cable, still puzzling over the rumors relayed by the friendly demon. He asks for an autograph, holding out an old pizza flyer and a pen. I try not to smile as I sign William the Bloody and head out of the bar. The sound of the demon's glass breaking as it hits the ground is strangely satisfying.
Cable's territory extends north from Metairie to the shores of Lake Portchartrain, taking in a wide variety of neighborhoods and districts. Most of their lairs are on the outskirts and toward the lake in warehouses and cemeteries while the prime hunting area is the commercial district. In their attempt at centralizing, the planners had unwitting created the equivalent of an all you can eat buffet, placing all the clubs and bars in the same area.
A few more battered and then dusty vampires and I'm heading toward a newly renovated building along one of the canals. Two guys have been tailing me for about a mile now and I'm assuming they're a couple of Cable's goons. I have to give the guy some credit, he runs a tight ship and manages to keep a large group of imbecilic vampires from ruining his operations. It takes talent and a certain business savoir faire to keep a low profile while moving in society. Double checking the address, I glance up at the brick and glass building rising above me. There's an underground parking lot with a vampire guarding the entrance.
"Halt." Guard Vamp is tall and heavily built, watching me carefully from the booth. He's definitely seen too many action hero movies. "Identify yourself."
And the funny just keeps coming. I start toward him with a smirk. "Spike. Here to see Cable."
"Is he expecting you?"
"He is now."
The Schwarzenegger wannabe talks into a radio briefly, yellow eyes glancing at me every few seconds to make sure I haven't tried to sneak past him. Finally he gives me a curt nod. "You may pass. Third floor."
I roll my eyes as I head into the concrete jungle toward the elevator. Give a vampire a few minions and everything goes to hell; they start getting picky and demanding. Most turn into downright snobs who don't want to mingle with their own kind. The hydraulics whisper as the elevator begins its ascent, shuddering silently when it comes to a stop and the doors slide open. Dark carpet and rich wood tones give the office a claustrophobic feeling. Seated at a large desk in the center and flanked by bodyguards is a sophisticated looking vampire I can only assume is Cable. Tinted windows provide an obscured view of the city behind him.
"Spike. Do come in." The vampire is wearing a dark navy suit and black shoes shined to a mirror polish. "This is an unexpected pleasure."
"Looking for information." I glance at his henchmen. Four vamps. Big, strong, probably dumb as posts.
"I've heard. You've killed quite a few of my men."
"I'll kill a few more if I don't get what I came for." The stake in my jacket pocket is small comfort against these odds.
"And what is it, exactly, that you want?" Cable smiles coldly and leans onto his desk, fingers together.
"Rumor has it that some of your men were responsible for redecorating my flat a couple nights ago. I want to know who was behind it." I'm stiff, tensed for possible violence and still furious over having lost Faith.
"Was she your girl?" He gives me a measuring look. "Such a pity. Wrong place, wrong time. You know how it goes. I'll tell you what, I'll make you a deal."
"No deals. Give me the information and I'll let you live."
He laughs at that. "You're outnumbered Spike and there are more of my men downstairs. All I have to do is give the word and you'll be nothing but a pile of dust."
"I'd like to see you try." My voice is level despite my anger. Fear that Faith is hurt or dead adds fuel to my desire to snap a few more necks.
Leaning back into the chair, he watches me for a moment before his face twists into a vicious sneer. "She must be a good fuck to be worth this. Maybe I'll take her for a spin. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
"If you touch her-"
"You'll what?" Cutting me off, he stands up and moves around the end of the desk. "We're on the same side, Spike. Let's not fight over a woman."
"Were you behind it?"
"Sadly, no. The job came in from a colleague overseas. You were the original target, of course. Although kidnapping your whore seems to have gotten you here just as effectively."
I blanch at the derogatory reference to Faith, grinding my teeth to keep from making a retort. He's baiting me, taunting me into saying or doing something stupid. I still don't know where they took her. At least she's alive. "Where is she?"
"Safe. For the time being." He still has that smug smile pasted on his lips. "Back to my deal. I think you'll like it. It's right up your alley."
"Something about Slayers?"
"Excellent guess but not entirely correct." He nods to one of his goons, who pulls a manila folder out of the desk and passes it over. Tapping the folder, Cable turns back to me and waves to one of the chairs. "Have a seat."
"I'll stand," I snap angrily.
"Suit yourself. We're in this together." He opens the folder. "I pay people very well to keep me informed. Especially if it concerns me. This concerns all of us. Every vampire on this planet will be affected." His voice is serious now and a frown creases his brow. "Three years ago, the Watcher's Council was obliterated by an agent of the First Evil and all but a handful of potential Slayers were killed."
"I heard."
"When the new Council formed, they adopted a new approach. They're no longer training Slayers. They're training assassins." He closes the folder and places it back onto the desk. "Their new goal is to track us down one by one and wipe us out. Seems ludicrous, I know. Thousands of vampires and demons against one little girl. It's impossible. Do you agree?"
"I might." I wonder where he's going with this new bit of information.
"This is a new breed of Slayer. They've changed the rules." He stares into space somewhere over my head for a few seconds before looking back at me. "Here's what I don't understand. Why go after you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why would the Watcher's Council hire me and my men to capture and contain you? I'm not complaining because it keeps the new Slayer off of my back." Fingers play with the edge of the folder and the smile returns. "But I'm a curious vampire and I want to know why. What do you have that makes you important to them?"
Words get stuck in my throat as the light bulb finally switches on. The Watcher's Council. They knew about my chip, knew everything about me up until four years ago when I dropped from the radar screen. They hated Faith and had tried to kill her before. Another Slayer had been called when Faith had died, explaining how the little girl knew she had died but not that I had brought her back. And the threat of eternal torment? That should have been the dead giveaway that a bunch of stuffy British gits were behind the whole charade. Was Giles part of it? He had to be. The bitter taste of betrayal surprised me. They had taken the chip out of my head, not caring how many people I killed or if I had butchered Buffy and the Scooby gang along with Faith. The wankers had purposefully and deliberately sent William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, after their own Slayer.
"Where is she?" My voice sounds strained, hissing through my teeth.
"With my colleague on his way to England," Cable answers dismissively, not caring whether or not I know what's happened to her. "I've told you what you wanted to know. Now it's your turn."
"No deal." My fingers close around the stake in my jacket pocket. "I'm not dealing with you."
"Come now. You really don't have a choice. I don't understand why you're against me." He looks genuinely confused at my refusal.
"Because it's wrong." I smile at the irony of my words and take a step back. "I'm leaving. One way or another."
Glancing at the bodyguards surrounding him, he nods once. "Try not to kill him. Damaged is good." He heads toward a door in the wooden paneling, disappearing into another room and leaving me alone with the four Stooges.
"Not much for good byes, is he?" I drawl, my eyes darting back and forth between them.
Stooge Number One makes the first move, trying to turn me around and force me back into the waiting clutches of his cronies. He gets a jab to the throat and loses a knee for his trouble. Number Two isn't careful; my stake finds his heart and leaves a dark patch of dust on the carpet. The remaining two have wised up, circling me like vultures and trying to move with synchronicity. Their fists are like sledgehammers; there's blood in my mouth, on my knuckles, and I can feel bruises forming where they've connected.
One of the monsters grabs me from behind, holding me as the other slams his fist into my face, leaving my ears ringing. Pushing off of the ground, I swing my legs up and catch the vampire in front of me around the neck. There's a sickening crack as his neck breaks and he stumbles back against the wall, wounded but still undead. Throwing my weight forward, boots hit the carpet, breaking the vamp's grip and sending him tumbling over my back. He's disappearing into the carpet before the shock can register on his face. Growling angrily, I stake the wounded goons and kick down the door Cable disappeared through. The room beyond is silent and empty. No sign of the bastard.
I return to the office and pick up the manila folder from the desk. There are pictures of an old, stone building and a map of London. Papers, small-scale blueprints, and a list of contacts. With a grim smile, I close the folder and turn to leave.
Hissing ominously, the elevator doors open and a group of vampires emerge armed with rope and tranquilizer guns. Half a second passes as they look around for the four who were supposed to subdue me. It's long enough for me to turn and get a head start across the office. There's shouting behind me and a dart whispers against my ear in a near miss.
My impact against the glass resonates through my body just before I feel it give way and shatter into pieces around me. Falling three stories in a few terrifying seconds, I miss the concrete sidewalk by inches, landing on lush grass. Staggering to my feet and wincing at the stabbing pain in my side indicating broken ribs, I force myself into an agonizing run. Home is no longer safe and I have to get to Faith. There's blood in my mouth, down my throat, in my lungs. I'm choking on it. Jumping through the window might not have been the best plan. At least the folder is still curled tightly in my hands. It was something.
I'm not sure how or why I made it to the Full Moon Rising bookstore, my head fuzzy with pain. The bell jingles in my ears, a warm light beckoning to me from the back of the store as I stumble forward. My vision blurs and the world begins to tip sideways, tumbling me onto my knees in pain. Dark eyes look down at me through round glasses and the bookworm's curious voice is trying to make its way through the fog in my head. I manage a strangled plea for help before darkness takes me.
Faith hated being caged. Hated being trapped like an animal. She tried to think of something she hated more just to pass the time. Kakistos. Gwendolyn Post. Watchers in general. None of them even came close to the black rage she felt at being surrounded by twisted metal wire. It was worse than being back in prison. But it was worlds better than where she was now.
The rope around her wrists had long since rubbed her skin raw and blistered. She hadn't had a shower or a decent meal in days and her mouth was sticky with blood. One side of her face was swollen and there were a couple loose molars on the bottom row of teeth. The English bastard was watching her carefully, as if trying to decide what to hit her with next. Five torture groups. Karma was a bitch. Even if she wanted to laugh at the turnabout, the burning pain in her side and chest would have squelched that urge quickly enough.
All she had left was her anger and her hate. All she could do was glare up at her captor and imagine his screaming as she broken every one of his fingers. He smiled when he caught her look and shook his head, making a tsk-tsk sound.
"So spirited." His voice was smooth, almost pleasant to listen to. If she hadn't been tied to a chair and if he wasn't torturing her. "I'm really only doing this because it's so much fun. In the end, it doesn't matter why or how you're alive. You're not important." He bent closer to her ear. "You've never been important, have you, Faith? You've always been nothing."
"Go to hell," she ground out through clenched teeth.
"Faith, Faith." He moved around behind her, trailing his fingers over her collarbones and neck. "He's looking for you. The vampire. I find it fascinating. Why would a vampire be trying to find you? Maybe even rescue you? How romantic. In a very sick and twisted fashion, of course."
"You're going to get your ass kicked when he finds you." She wouldn't have believed him if she hadn't already known that Spike would come after her, that he would tear down the pillars of heaven if he had to. She didn't know how she knew. She just knew. It still felt good to hear that he was looking, he was coming. She wasn't alone. If she could just hold on a little longer.
"He won't find us. He's being led in the wrong direction." He laughed softly, pulling her hair away from her face into a tight ponytail. "I've had years to plan. To wait. I'm not going to let anyone ruin it. You're just a bonus."
He jerked her head back roughly, using his knife to cut away chunks of her hair. When he was satisfied with his work, he moved around in front of her again to examine the jagged new style. With a disappointed sigh, he shook his head. "Still too pretty. We'll have to do something about that." He started into torture group number two.
Faith held her jaw tightly shut. She wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Ever. He could do what he wanted, it didn't matter. She was stronger than he was. Stronger.
I can't wait to see their faces. Do you think they'll still look at you when you aren't pretty anymore?" The knife blade dug into her cheek.
"You're one sick fuck," she hissed.
"And quite insane. Maximum security prison will do that to a man. Of course, you know about that as well." He stroked the side of her face gently, smearing her blood over her skin. "We have so much in common, Faith."
"When I get loose. You're gonna die. Slowly," she whispered, her voice shaking with loathing and pain.
"I don't think so." He pulled away from her, losing his interest in torture for the moment. "You're the one who's going to die. You and Buffy Summers and her little friends. They're already marked for execution. I just have to give the word and they'll be snuffed out. Like candles."
Faith struggled against the ropes binding her wrists, ignoring the searing pain as they bit into her already raw wounds. "Why are you doing this? Why kill them?"
Brown eyes glittered dangerously and he dropped the knife onto the table. "Why not? I think I'll torture Buffy for a while. See if she holds up as well as you have."
"You can't beat her." Faith winced as she smiled, feeling her skin separate and reopen the wound on her face. "And you'll never break her."
"Speaking from experience?"
"She's better than you. Whoever the fuck you are."
"That's right. We've never been introduced. Not properly anyway." He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "I missed your brief reign of terror in Sunnydale."
"So who are you? I'd like to know your name before I rip your heart out." Faith spat blood onto the dirty floor.
"Ethan Rayne." His voice was cold and bitter.
Faith searched her memories for a reference to an Ethan Rayne. Vaguely familiar. Had Buffy mentioned him? His footsteps faded away and she eyed his knife speculatively. Rocking her weight back and forth, she could slide the chair across the concrete slowly. Inch by grueling inch, she made progress toward the table. She didn't have much time before the vamp lackey showed up with cold soup and a slice of bread. If her feet weren't tied to the chair legs she could have broken it apart. If she could just get her hands free. Her wrists were slick with blood as she managed another inch.
This was nothing. She'd been in prison. She'd been dead. This was a walk in the park. Holding tightly to her conviction, she focused on the knife. Get to the knife. Get her hands free. One step at a time.
Her body was screaming with pain when she finally bumped up against the table, trying to maneuver her bonds to allow enough reach. Frustrated that she couldn't quite touch the knife, she sunk back against the chair, breathing hard. Sweat stung her wounds and brought involuntary tears to her eyes. Her head was pounding, spinning with exhaustion and trauma. Leaning her forehead against the table, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and escape into sleep. Would it have been better if Spike had just let her die?
Save me. His voice echoed softly in her head. No one had ever asked her to save them. No one had ever leaned on her for strength. She had always been the one who was weak, who needed saving. Always the liability, the Slayer who needed a heavy hand, the daughter who wanted a dog. Just wanted to be wanted. If she stopped fighting, let the British bastard cut her into pieces, who wouldn't breathe a sigh of relief that she wasn't around to take care of? No one would have to save Faith again. No one would have to put up with her being around. Maybe.
And maybe not. Gritting her teeth against the firing of her battered nerves, she began to slide the chair over the rough ground once more. This time moving toward the concrete steps. Maybe she needed people, needed to be loved and accepted. And maybe they would be better off without her. But the psycho bastard was going to kill Buffy and the Scoobies. For a change, they needed her. She wasn't going to let them down.
Wood scraped against stone and she closed her eyes, steeling herself against the impact as she bent forward, lifting the chair a few inches into the air. With a deep breath, she tensed and lunged backwards against the steps. Wood cracked and she almost cried out with the pain as her wrists took the force of the impact. Again. The joints of the chair began to loosen. Tears poured down her cheeks as she slammed against the concrete, feeling the chair legs and back snap and buckle.
Sinking to her knees, she had enough give in the rope to shake the back of the chair away, leaving her hands free to pull the seat and shattered legs apart. She was trembling as she stood up, legs unsteady and sore from the ropes. Slipping her arms underneath her feet, she limped back to the table and worked at them awkwardly with the knife.
It was agonizingly slow but she managed to cut away the rope, grimacing at the blood staining her wrists and hands. One of the chair legs had broken with a sharp point, creating a makeshift stake. Gripping it as tightly as her injured hands allowed, she crept quietly up the steps. A familiar sting caught her shoulder and she stumbled against the wall, turning around in horror to see Ethan Rayne smiling at her, a tranquilizer gun in his hand.
"Leaving us so soon?" His face blurred and split into two as she sunk to the floor, stake clattering to the ground beside her. "The party hasn't even started."
Her last thought as she drifted into unconsciousness was that she had failed. Again.
The Summers home was quiet, providing a measure of peace and relief for the three people sitting in the living room. Giles was nursing a cup of tea and a broken arm. His face was covered with cuts in various stages of healing. Someone had blown up his car. It seemed that was the preferred method of getting rid of Watchers.
"Things have been getting worse for some time." Giles winced, trying to adjust his arm on the mound of pillows Dawn had provided. "The new Head Watcher, Elliot, has been more and more erratic the last year or so. Many of us believe that the death of his daughter three years ago is the cause of his difficulty. At first he was just distant. But now...now he's a man possessed."
"What happened to his daughter?" Buffy was perched on the edge of the coffee table anxiously.
"I don't know. He never speaks of it. At first, the changes he made were productive. The Slayer Academy to train the potentials. The extra funding for research and weaponry. These girls are ready to take over when they are called. They speak several languages, many of them demon languages. They're amazing really."
"And the catch?" Dawn asked cynically. "There's always a catch."
"Elliot was willing to go to any lengths. Do anything. We didn't even notice the girls were changing. Becoming less human." Giles looked weary beyond his years. "I don't know what happened to them."
"Definitely scary. The new girl, Cara, she's like a robot. Reminds me of the Initiative soldiers. You don't think he went Dr. Frankenstein on us, like Maggie Walsh?" Buffy didn't like any part of that idea.
"We don't know much." He chuckled bitterly as he put his mug down awkwardly. "I found a memo. Can you believe they wrote a memo? William the Bloody no longer has the behavioral modification chip. Currently residing, New Orleans, Louisiana. That was it. No fanfare, no alert. No attempt to stop Spike from killing innocents." Shaking himself from his rant, he continued, "the morning after I found the memo and confronted Elliot about it, my car exploded in front of me. The only reason I wasn't in it was that I stopped to tie my bloody shoelace."
"You think this Watcher guy was behind it?"
"I don't know what else to think, Buffy. They hid the knowledge of Spike's chip from all of us. I can't even begin to fathom his motivations."
"So we've got a bunch of Slayers in training acting like robots, one Slayer who's gone G.I. Jane, and we think the Watcher's Council is trying to kill you. Why can't they just impeach you? Or disbar? De-Watch? Is there a word for Watchers?"
"That's a fairly succinct assessment. How are things here in Sunnydale?"
"Same old, same old. Big Bad we can't find any information on. We only have the word of a vampire who was loony toons the last time anyone saw him. All we know is that it looks like a little girl and doesn't like Faith too much. Considering that no one really likes Faith, that doesn't actually narrow the field."
"You were able to confirm Spike's soul?" Giles still looked as though he was going to reach for his glasses and polish them whenever he said the words Spike and soul in the same sentence.
"Yep. Probably the why behind the trip to roadrunner land." With a sigh, Buffy moved to the couch beside Giles, careful not to disturb his arm.
"And Faith's body?"
Buffy and Dawn exchanged meaningful looks, still unsure of the best course of action concerning Giles. While they both trusted the former Watcher to understand and keep the secret of Faith's return to life, neither wanted to add any more reasons for Giles to be in danger. He might be safer if he didn't know.
"We think he threw the body in the ocean. They may never find it," Dawn lied. "We tried a location spell but it didn't work."
"At least she's at peace now," Giles said diplomatically and finally reached for his glasses. "Faith didn't have an easy life and although many of her problems were the direct consequences of her choices, she was still dealt a difficult hand."
"Yeah." Buffy gnawed on her lower lip, unable to meet Giles' gaze. "And we'll find something. We'll figure it out just like we always do."
"Do you have any idea where Spike is now?"
"We think he headed north." Dawn smiled brightly, this lie coming easier because they had rehearsed it before Giles had arrived. "Clem was the one who talked to him. He mostly just kicked everyone else's ass."
"Dawn." Buffy scowled at her sister.
"Well, he did."
"I'm sorry, Buffy." Giles looked torn between wanting to lecture her and comfort her. "I know you and Spike had a history. It must have been hard for you."
"I'm used to my lovers going homicidal. Do you think it's me? Maybe something in the water?" Buffy grinned with genuine good humor. "Really, guys. I'm fine. All better now. I'm thinking of calling Jerry Springer. Women and their Murderous Demon Boyfriends. Catchy, don't you think?"
"Yes, quite." Giles smiled just a little. "When is the new Slayer coming?"
"Probably after dark. She wanted to meet Willow and Xander for some reason." Buffy left it at that, now even more unsure of why the new Slayer wanted to meet everyone. "They should be back in a couple hours with pizza. Maybe she'll like that. Even psycho Slayers have to eat, right?"
"Maybe she just needs friends," Dawn offered. "Maybe she's really just lonely and the tough attitude is just one of those defense mechanisms."
"Like Faith." Buffy frowned and reconsidered the comparison. "Which isn't a good thing actually. What if she starts killing people?"
"Cara didn't seem like the type to go crazy evil on us. It'll just take time for her to feel comfortable around the gang, that's all."
"I'm sure you're right Dawn. Oh! We could make brownies. Well, you could make brownies. I'll crack the eggs and beat the batter. We'll throw a Welcome to the Hellmouth party."
"That's a very good idea, Buffy." Giles nodded supportively. "The more human interaction she gets, the better."
"One party girl coming up. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I have tea."
"Holler if you need anything." Buffy smiled affectionately at her former Watcher before heading into the kitchen with Dawn.