Burning Bridges
Faith stood tensed, waiting for an attack, her fingers clamped tightly on the lip of the counter top as her mind raced in circles. She should have taken Spike's offer to let the fucking Scoobies deal with this themselves. Let the Slayer bitch kill them all. This was what she deserved for trying to help them; a knife in the back. Buffy had been waiting years to finally finish what she started when she'd put her in a coma. Jail hadn't been enough for Buffy. It was never enough, would never be enough.
All that kept her from running was Spike. They had Spike and they were probably going to kill him, which would make Buffy happy. She'd never have to talk about the vampire she'd fucked ever again. Never have to admit it. Willow and Xander would forgive her; they'd understand, they'd never question her. Goddamn sheep, all of them.
Why had she come back? Why not just stay with Spike in New Orleans? Safe. Comfortable. Cared for. Maybe not loved but cared for. She was too jaded to think that anyone who had loved Buffy would ever want her. Every part of her life that Buffy touched went to hell; she was always in the shadow of blonde hair and green eyes. She had everything Faith had ever wanted. Friends, family, love. It didn't matter that she had fucked two vampires, the very creatures she was supposed to be killing, or that she'd tried to kill Faith and the rest of the Scoobies at least once.
"I haven't forgiven her."
That was what Spike had said. It struck a nerve. She'd spent the last six years searching for forgiveness. Serving her sentence, her penance, trying to atone for what she had done. Every moment had been driven by one thing, forgiveness. A hundred, a thousand even, speeches had been carefully laid out in her head. For Buffy, for Xander, and they all boiled down to two words. Forgive me. There was no reason for Faith to forgive them, they had done nothing wrong. All the blame had been placed squarely on her shoulders. Is that where it belonged? Nothing but silence answered her questions.
She would be alone forever now, which was fitting because she'd always been alone. Even when she'd tried to fit in here in Sunnydale, tried to be what they wanted her to be, she'd still been alone. When had they ever just looked at her and wondered what Faith was like? Just Faith. Had they asked what her favorite color was? Her favorite food? What her hopes and dreams were? If she wanted something for her life other than vampires and demons? They hadn't even asked what her last name was, they didn't even know that much.
None of them had ever cared. She was Slayer Number Two. She didn't need a last name; she wasn't even supposed to be around because technically Buffy wasn't dead. Faith was a fluke, a mistake. Unneeded, unwanted.
She almost turned away, eyes still closed tightly so that she couldn't see the mirror in front of her. She didn't. The counter cracked under the pressure of her grip. So much for her control, the bookworm had been wrong about that, she couldn't control anything. Her whole life had been a leaf falling from a tree, tossed and battered by the wind; unable to stop the downward spiral or prevent the gusts from taking her with them against her will. Always at the mercy of everything and everyone around her; chaos and confusion were all she had to offer. When people got closer, looked inside her, all they found was destruction, bedlam, twists and turns that would drive a saint to despair. A lifetime of crawling on hands and knees, searching for something to believe in; closing her eyes, taking a breath, jumping into one more failure.
Spike had taken his destiny into his own hands. He'd won back his soul, refused to kill her even when it meant pain and torment for him, although that part had turned out to be been a lie. He had searched for her relentlessly, had done whatever was necessary trying to help the Scoobies even when he knew that they would never accept him. He didn't want to be accepted, he just wanted to help them. Why? Why not just turn his back and walk away? Because Spike was Spike. It wasn't in his nature to give up. He knew who he was.
Who was she? She had been a Slayer, then the Mayor's right hand; she'd even been Buffy for a day. But who was Faith? Not Old Faith. Not New Faith. Just Faith. She wished she could see herself the way Spike did. In his eyes, she was everything she wanted to be.
"Nobody knows what you are. Not even you, little Miss-Seen-it-All."
She knew every word Mayor Wilkins had ever said to her. Heard them over and over in her head for six long years in a prison cell; hating the sound of his voice in her head like a vile poison spreading through her body. Had they been lies? Had he used her just like everyone else? She'd never worn the dress he bought her again and she hadn't even been there when he died, but none of it mattered if all of those words had been lies. He wasn't around to ask so there were no answers. There was nothing for her to hold onto. Nothing to believe in.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. The face in the mirror stared back at her with fearful uncertainty. She saw short dark hair, like Xander's so many years ago. Dark eyes, full lips, good bone structure. Cream skin had been marred by cuts and obscured by bruises that were beginning to fade. Turning her head side to side, she searched the reflection for a hint of who she was. A trace of what Spike saw when he looked at her. She squared her shoulders and met the other woman's gaze, unblinking and defiant. Ethan Rayne had taken her face, had caged her like an animal, and given her a taste of hell itself, but he had not broken her. No one could break her.
Realizing that she had been holding her breath, she inhaled sharply, watching the rise and fall of her chest in the mirror. That was her. The face in the mirror. Stripped of everything she had. Friends, family, identity. What was left? If she could never atone, never earn the forgiveness of those she had wronged, what was left? A life of swallowing back tears, of never believing in herself or anyone else? Could she ever forgive herself? Would she ever be able to look in the mirror without hating her own face? Dark eyes blinked from the gargoyle mask that had replaced the one she loathed. The face she had abhorred from the moment she discovered a mirror was gone completely and so was the frightened little girl hiding behind it.
She saw it.
In the set of her shoulders and the lift of her chin was what Spike saw when he looked at her. Awed, she stared at the mirror without blinking. Looking into her own soul and finding something she didn't know she had. Control. He'd told her to keep looking, after he had pulled her from the ocean and brought her back to life. Keep looking. She had to make a choice. The past was done and gone. What she did with her life was her choice and she didn't have to be a leaf anymore, letting the wind take her wherever it wanted. All she had to do was take control.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the face in the mirror.
The lips moved, smiling as she answered her own question. "Just Faith."
"Why would he attack Ethan, Giles?" Buffy paced back and forth, glancing at the still unconscious Spike chained to the wall of the basement. "He just pushed me away. He didn't even try to hurt me or anyone else."
"I don't know anything more than you do, Buffy. And you know Spike far better than I do," Giles sighed.
"Where's Ethan?"
"Motel. Although he's probably gone by now."
"He'll stay and gloat just like always." Buffy sat down on the bottom step of the basement stairs, staring at an unconscious Spike and rubbing at the headache beginning to form at her temples. "And I'm sure by the time we finally figure out what he's up to, he'll have plenty to gloat about. It has to be trick. It's always a trick with him."
"I'm afraid you might be right."
"I can't believe Spike would do those things to Faith." Buffy shook her head, her brain aching with the exertion of trying to make sense of it all. Spike didn't have the patience to torture someone; he'd get bored after the first fifteen minutes. "Kill people trying to kill him, yes. Torture Faith? No. It's not him. Not his style."
"He did have Angel tortured for the Gem of Amara," Giles pointed out.
"Giles. I'm being glass-half-full girl. Don't rain on my parade." She frowned at the Spike, wondering how long it would take for the tranquilizers to wear off so she could ask him what was going on. "Maybe I shouldn't have shot him with two of those things. It's been fourteen hours. Do you think it works differently on vampires?"
"I don't think you need to worry."
"Buffy?" Willow's voice carried down the basement stairs. "You'd better come see this."
"Be right there." Buffy took one last look at Spike before starting up the stairs with Giles. A large brown folder was sitting on the table in the living room; Willow was carefully pulling manila folders out of it.
"I found it on the porch," Willow explained, staring intently at the metal box in her hands. "They're files. From the Watcher's Council, I think. This is a hard drive. I'll try to hook it up and see what's on it," she paused uncertainly. "I think, maybe, just maybe...Spike brought them."
"Why would Spike bring this stuff?" Buffy sat down and began to sift through them with growing horror. "It's us. Everything about us. Even Anya and Tara." The chill in her heart grew colder as she read through the assessments. "Orders to kill us. All of us but Spike. They want him as a guinea pig. No wonder he killed them. It would be the Initiative all over again."
"Any reasons why?" Willow frowned, peering over Buffy's shoulder as she untangled a length of cable to plug into the hard drive. "Why kill us all, I mean?"
"Doesn't say." Buffy glanced over at Cara. The girl was silent, not even trying to escape from the chair she was tied to. "Cara?" No response. "Cara. Why were you supposed to kill us?"
Cara blinked, staring at Buffy as though she couldn't quite understand the question. "I was not instructed to tell you why you were to be terminated."
"Terminated." Buffy rolled her eyes. "You know you can think for yourself here. It's an order free zone. We don't brainwash people."
The Slayer seemed to hesitate for a moment, but her voice was clear and steady when she answered. She might have been reciting the phone book for all the emotion, or lack of, in her voice. "Insubordination and incompetence. That is why you were a target. And your Watcher."
"Incompetence?" Buffy scowled angrily. "I'd like to know what they would have done without me. I suppose they wanted to fight the First Evil all by themselves. Oh yeah, they got blown up. That's incompetence for you."
"Elliot blamed you personally for his daughter's death, Buffy." Giles looked up from the file he was holding. "This is probably more personal than strategic."
"Alright. What about the others? Cara?"
"The Witch has a name. And she's sitting right here." There was just the slightest hint of wounded pride in Willow's rebuttal.
"Xander Harris is unfortunate. Civilians should not be permitted to be involved with Slayers," she continued as though she hadn't heard.
"So he's just clean-up?"
"Yes."
"And Dawn?" That was the one that Buffy really wanted to hear justified. She couldn't even imagine their reasoning for wanting Dawn eliminated unless it was simply another way to get at her.
A shadow of emotion passed over Cara's face that was almost regret. "The Key is not human and is not classified as benign. It is a liability."
"Where do people like you come from?" Buffy had to make a conscious effort to not destroy the papers in her hands, her thoughts hazy with anger. "She's a girl. A real girl. Just as human as you, well, I really don't think you're human, so she's just as human as Giles or Xander. She's my sister."
"Buffy?" Willow interrupted. "I've got it. I think I may have found something and there's probably a lot more here. Expense accounts, logs, that kind of thing."
"Any way to verify what Ethan told us?"
"I'm looking." Her frowned deepened as she navigated through windows, bringing up more files and scanning over them. "There's a separate account for New Orleans, a lot of money moving back and forth. A very large number with lots of zeros to an Ethan R. Smythe. I'll keep searching."
"What if he's telling us the truth?" Buffy turned back to the files in front of her. "What if Faith is still in a cage somewhere? What if Spike really killed her this time?"
Cara looked confused. "She is dead. I was called."
"She only died for a minute. Spike brought her back."
Confusion turned to bewilderment. "I don't understand."
"Welcome to the club. If any of us actually understood Spike, this would all be a lot easier." A smile crossed Buffy's face, lost in a private joke. "He's tricky. Like an exam."
"I don't know if we can confirm what Ethan said, Buff." Willow tapped her fingers on the table frustratedly. "But we can't prove that he's lying either. He was paid a lot of money by the Council that could have been for the spell. And there are records of extraction teams going to New Orleans and being killed. Almost twenty people have died trying to capture Spike. It's all right here."
"At least part of what Ethan said is the truth." Giles bent over Willow's shoulder to see the screen. "He could be telling us just enough to gain our trust. Perhaps Spike can fill in some of the gaps."
"And if he has turned Hannibal Lector? Not so much with the wanting to talk to him." Buffy shook her head firmly. "I don't want any of you going near him until we know what's going on. It's crazy enough around here with all the demons getting jazzed over something. Are there demon drug dealers? Cause there has to be something doing this to them."
"I'll look into it. Maybe it's an alignment. They tend to disturb the energy fields around the Hellmouth." Giles headed for the bookshelves.
Buffy stood up, feeling the need to move around and at least pretend to be useful. "Will, keep at that hard drive thingy, see if there's anything else we need to know. I'll see if I can rouse the undead and get something out of him."
"Good luck, Buffy."
"Don't let Dawn downstairs. Not even if she cries and gives you the wounded puppy look."
Willow smiled over the laptop. "I'm immune to wounded puppies."
My head is killing me. I could have sworn I got that bloody chip out years ago so why does my head hurt? There's light, somewhere above me. And a palette of familiar smells: laundry detergent, lavender, vanilla, earth. Trying to clear the haze from my eyes, I shake my head, moaning at the increasing pounding in my skull. The blurry images I manage to take in are of Buffy's basement. Long time no see. An attempt to move reveals that I'm shackled at the wrists. What's going on?
"You're awake." Buffy's voice is ice.
"Buffy?" Unsure of what's going on, I try to remember what happened. Faith. The man. The bastard who tortured her was here, in Buffy's house. "Where is he?" The growl is involuntary.
"The man you tried to kill? He's safe."
"What? Buffy, you don't understand." And I really don't understand. She had stopped me, chained me up in her basement, and let the rat slither away into the sewers again.
"You're right. I don't." Her eyes are flashing angrily as she tosses a bag of blood in my direction. "Tell me where Faith is."
"What do you care?" I'm suspicious now. What had the bastard been doing in her house last night? Eying the blood skeptically, I pick it up and turn it over in my hands.
"Ethan said you had her. That you," her voice breaks and she stops.
"I took care of her." It was obviously the wrong thing to say, color drains from her face and she takes a step back.
"And the men they sent after you?"
"What are you talking about? Vamps, demons. Killed them all." Where is she going with this? She's looking at me as though I've turned into a rattlesnake. Or something worse. "What was he doing here? Buffy?"
"He saved us." The words are bitter and she seems loath to say them.
"What?"
"Cara had us tied up in the factory. He saved us."
"And you brought him home? Just like you. Never see what's right in front of you 'til it bites you in the ass." I'm past the point of caring whether or not I mix my metaphors. Damn Scoobies and their twisted idea of right and wrong.
"Is Faith dead?"
"Of course not." I struggle to my feet. "How incompetent do you think I am?" That apparently warrants the painful end of her fist. My head jerks to the side and I crash into the cement wall behind me, dropping the bag of blood on the floor. "Bloody hell, woman! What was that for?"
"Where is she?"
"What? You want to finish her off yourself? Get a little payback?" I spit blood onto the dirty floor just in time to get a fist in the stomach, doubling me over.
"Where is she?" She's furious now, shaking with it.
"Go to hell, Slayer." There's no way I would tell her where Faith was even if I knew. They'd probably just hand her over to the bastard and let him start where he left off. "I'm not going to tell you anything. Might as well just stake me."
"You're not going to die, Spike. That's too good for you." She turns on her heel and starts up the stairs.
I'm left to stare after her, angry and puzzled. Just when I thought I had this whole thing figured out I'm back at square one with more pieces. Do all of the pieces even come from the same puzzle? I'm beginning to wonder if I've been missing the big picture. All I knew about Ethan Rayne was that he had locked Faith in a cage, taken a knife to her face, and a whip to her back. According to Buffy, he'd saved the whole Scooby Gang after telling Faith he was going to kill them all. It was crazy. It made no sense. When had any of this made sense? With a sigh, I sit back down, maneuvering to reach the bag of blood. Drugged or not, I have to eat something. I can't figure out bizarre and sinister plots on an empty stomach. Tearing into the bag, I grimace at the taste of lukewarm pig blood, gulping it down hungrily.
Discarding the empty bag, I test my chains quietly, trying not to attract attention. They're sturdy. Not unbreakable but strong enough to hold me. Damn Slayer. What was she thinking? How many times did she have to get stabbed in the back before she learned not to turn around? She didn't seem to like the idea that Rayne had saved them but her holier-than-thou ethics wouldn't allow her let a good deed go without reward. Unless, of course, it was done by an evil, soulless thing. Duplicitous bitch.
The chains rattle as I get to my feet, pacing restlessly as far as my tether allows me. There's something missing. Why had Buffy been so angry? Why was I so angry? For the past week, I've been in and out of a blind rage that I don't understand. I thought it was because of what happened to Faith. It seemed to lessen when I was with her, holding her. Memories of her, soft and warm in my arms, calm me and ease the aching in my head. She was safe. That's all that mattered. Keeping her safe. Protecting her as I had protected Dawn.
Dawn. In this house. With that monster. Anger floods in again, fear nipping at its heels as I realize she's at the mercy of the same hands that carved into Faith. I should have gone for the kill. Faith wanted her own revenge. I know better than anyone you can't always get what you want. I just need one more chance to do it right. A creak catches my ear. Third step. Soft footsteps. Lavender.
"Big sis'll tan your hide, Bit." Restlessly, I crouch down against the wall, pulling against the chains around my wrists.
"I know." Dawn sits down on the bottom step, staring anxiously across the room. "She won't tell me what's going on. No one will. It's a big conspiracy to keep Dawn in the dark. Kind of like never telling me about Glory."
"Shouldn't be here, pet."
"Spike. You're all chained up, you couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to." She pauses. "And I'm pretty sure you don't."
"Tell Buffy that." I nod toward the ceiling. "Did that bastard really save you?"
"Yeah. Big surprise. I'm pretty sure he's trying to pull a fast one. That's what he does. According to Buffy anyway. I wasn't actually here when he was. But I have monk memories fashioned just for me. So good, you can't tell them from the real thing. A few anyway." She shrugs and moves closer, pulling herself up onto the washing machine.
"You alright? Slayer bitch didn't hurt you?"
"Had a headache for a few hours. I'm good." She kicks the washer nervously. She keeps looking over her shoulder, searching for something, and looks troubled when there's nothing there but laundry detergent. There are dark circles under her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Can you hear it?" She shivers as she bites down on her lower lip. "The voice. Whispering."
"Bit?"
"Just listen, okay? Tell me you hear it."
I listen. Nothing but her heartbeat and the sounds of the world beyond the basement. Nothing. Wait. Turning away from Dawn, I vamp out. There it is. A voice. Barely a whisper, singsong rhythms that remind me of Dru; my demon hears it and thrills at the sound. It's a drug, a bloodlust high I've never felt before, pure rage like heroin in my veins. What the hell? Shaking off the ridges, I look back toward Dawn. How can she hear it?
"You can hear it." Dawn swallows hard, her face is pale and haunted.
"The demon can," I answer carefully, watching her face.
"No one else hears it. Not Buffy or Giles." Blue eyes widen a fraction as my words sink in. "Demons. Demons can hear it. I can hear it."
"You're not a demon, Bit."
"But I'm not human either." There's bitterness in her voice. "That's why Cara was supposed to kill me. I'm not human. Not really."
"Bit," I don't know what to say to her anymore. I've missed the last four years of her life and she's grown up without me. Settling for shaking my head sadly, I meet her gaze without any words of comfort to offer.
"Spike" Her face pales and she stumbles off of the washing machine.
My ears pick up the furious pounding of her heart the same moment her eyes roll back into her head, white staring out at me as her knees buckle. She's falling in slow motion. I can barely hear my own shout over the strange whispering and the sound of rushing blood. Metal snaps. The resistance against my wrists falls away and I'm moving toward her, my arms cushioning her fall just before she hits the concrete floor.
"Dawn!" Buffy's voice breaks the spell, the whispers fade away, and time resumes its speed. "Let her go!"
Pulling Dawn protectively against my chest, I snarl at Buffy, fangs bare and glistening with pig blood. She stops short, watching me warily as I return to the wall, cradling her sister in my arms.
"Buffy? What's wrong?" Giles is at the top of the stairs.
"Get a crossbow. Now!" Buffy shouts up the stairs. Her fists are clenched tightly at her sides. "Let her go, Spike."
"Fuck you." It's mostly a growl. I'm still shaking with the shock of seeing Dawn collapse in front of me. "Something's happening to her and you didn't even notice!"
"What are you talking about?"
"She can hear it!" I'm shouting, frustrated and afraid. "The voice. The voice that the demons hear. She can hear it." I can't tell her more. I don't know more. My demon recognized the voice, knew it, loved it. Why could Dawn hear it? Now that I've heard it clearly, I realize that it's been singing in the back of my mind for awhile. Intuitively, I know it's connected to the overwhelming rage that's been driving me. That doesn't reassure me.
"Whispers. She said something about whispers. She said it was a dream."
"You know, Summers, you can be an amazingly blind on occasion. You're so stuck on yourself that you don't even know when people are falling apart around you."
Buffy remains impassive, not speaking when Willow hurries down the stairs with a crossbow. She hands it over and stares at us both, unsure of what she's supposed to do now. The crossbow's pointed at me in an instant and I know Buffy won't miss if she pulls the trigger. Her voice is steady again when she speaks. "Give her to me."
"Come and get her, Slayer." There's more than just a hint of challenge in my voice. I made a promise to protect Dawn and I intend to keep that promise. Even if I'm protecting her from her own sister.
"If you hurt her," she warns, gripping the crossbow so tightly her knuckles are white.
Trying to control my rage, trembling with the effort of it, I pull Dawn closer. "You know I would never hurt Dawn. For God's sake, Buffy, you have to know that much."
"I don't know you. Not anymore."
I can't argue with that. She's right. None of them know me anymore. Part of me recognizes the fear in her eyes; she's desperate to make sure that her sister is safe, willing to do anything to hold on to her one solid link to the world outside of vampires and demons. If I had a reflection, I would have seen that look in my own eyes. Trying to calm down, I nod once. "Take her."
Buffy's moving forward, pulling Dawn away from me and backing away in an instant. Her eyes dart to the broken chains falling from my wrists. "How did you do that?"
"I had to get to her." I'm not sure how I broke the chains. With a shrug, I return to my crouch. "I won't go anywhere. I'm not your enemy."
Buffy stares down at me, hesitant. She's trying to decide something, if I'm dangerous maybe. If she can bring herself to trust me, a monster. "Did you bring those files? About us?"
"Nicked 'em out of the Watcher's Headquarters. Thought Willow here could do something with the hard drive." A glance at Willow reassures me that I had managed to do something right.
"Why?"
"Tryin' to help, Slayer. Just tryin' to help."
"And Ethan? Why attack him?"
"Take a good look at Faith when you see her and then ask me that question." Anger pushes me back to my feet and she takes another step back. "He put her in a fucking cage, Buffy. A cage. When I found her..." I have to stop, my voice is shaking.
Buffy is pale as she carefully eases Dawn down onto the floor, using a pile of towels to cushion her head. "He said you were the one. That you hurt Faith."
"What?" Understanding slides a few of the puzzle pieces into place. That's why they shot me, chained me up. It's bloody hilarious in a sordidly infuriating way. "And of course, you believed him. Because I'm a vampire. A monster. An evil, disgusting thing, isn't that right? You haven't changed a bit."
"I didn't believe him." Buffy glares at me. "But I couldn't take any chances. He said you were insane. Trying to kill him didn't help you any."
"I wasn't trying to kill him." It was the truth. I should have been trying to kill him. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Although she probably would have staked me.
"No." A familiar voice floats down the stairs. "But she was supposed to kill you." Giles stumbles awkwardly down the stairs, a gun at his temple and one hand pushing him forward. Ethan Rayne is smiling behind him, his face is bruised and swollen from my fists. I should have snapped his neck.
"Ethan." Buffy positions herself between the man and her sister. "You've really outdone yourself this time."
"You have no idea, Slayer." Ethan Rayne shoves Giles forward and calls up the stairs. "Come down, Cara." The Slayer moves smoothly down the stairs, a gun in one hand and a stake in the other. She looks a little uncomfortable, her eyes moving from Buffy to Ethan with more than a little trepidation.
"Isn't she wonderful?" He motions toward the corner. "All of you, over by the vampire. By the way, these are wooden tipped bullets designed especially to kill vampires. Welcome to the twenty-first century." I help Buffy with Dawn, putting her out of harm's way next to the wall. She flashes me an apologetic look. I nod sharply, knowing she has no choice but to be suspicious. There's plenty of time to be furious about it later and I've wasted enough of my life wallowing in bitterness over her inability to understand me.
"You won't get away with this, Ethan." Giles is rubbing his broken arm gingerly.
"I already have Ripper. And it was easy." Ethan laughs as he leans against the stairway. "I don't suppose you want to hear the details. But I'll tell you anyway." Cara moves into position, keeping a watchful eye on the group. "I was telling the truth before. Except the bit about Spike torturing Faith, of course. You should see her, really. Some of my best work." He raises one eyebrow when I start to growl. "If I'd known about the soul, it would have made much more sense. You trying to find her. Save her even. Playing the white knight. Did she fall into your arms? Thank you properly like the filthy whore she is." Buffy's hand restrains me as I jerk forward, wanting to rip him apart. "And the Watcher really did want to kill you all. Pathetic. Elliot and his tears, blaming you for his daughter." Ethan waves his gun absently. "Quite annoying. He just didn't understand. This isn't about his revenge." Brown eyes narrow and his voice turns icy. "It's about mine."
"Revenge for what? Your own stupid mistakes?" Buffy snaps defiantly.
He ignores her. "I promised Faith I'd give you a go, Slayer. See if you hold up as well as she did. Amazing really. Such stamina. I knew she and the vampire would come running to your rescue. All I had to do was set you up and watch you fall. Your weakness." He left the chair, caressing the gun fondly. "Is that you always trust the wrong people. It's very noble, but painfully stupid. A sob story about change and redemption and you waver."
"You had Cara kidnap us so that you could save us."
"Actually, I just took advantage of Elliot's plans. I had to get close to you somehow. And when Spike attacked me, he was playing right into my hands." He smiles at Buffy for a moment. "I had hoped you would kill him. Save me the trouble. No matter."
"And Faith?" I have to ask even though I'm dreading the answer.
"That's the beautiful part. I've studied all of you, learned your strengths and your weaknesses. Faith is such a complex creature; so full of weaknesses, if you know where to look." He chuckles, moving the chair out of the way and leveling the gun at us again. "She'll run, just like she always has. A scared little girl. If she does show up, it will be to kill you. The girl has no trust and, excuse my rather obvious pun, no faith. She'll believe you were part of it all along. That you sent her to be caged and tortured."
The wooden door to the basement explodes without warning, scattering bits of wood through the basement. Ethan screams as an arrow pierces his wrist, the gun clattering to the floor. Faith is standing in the opening with dust and splinters raining down around her, a compound bow trained on Cara. Her voice is steel. "That's where you're wrong, you son of a bitch. Spike?" She glances toward me for an instant then back to Cara. "Do what you do best."
Cara looks at me for a split second, eye widening as I push through the Scoobies. The end of my right chain catches her wrist like a whip, knocking away the gun and leaving an angry red welt. She blocks the first of my punches but doesn't see the kick aimed for her right knee. Faltering, she pulls a dagger from her calf and dives forward, catching my side and leaving an ugly gash. Using my chains, I catch her ankle and pull her off of her feet. She rolls away, hurling a box of Christmas decorations toward me and springing back up.
"Spike?" Buffy shouts through the din, wondering if I need help.
"Protect Dawn." I grunt as I pull Cara off balance and land another blow in the center of her back.
Willow and Giles are backing away from the fight nervously, looking back and forth between me and Faith, searching for a way to help. Faith is circling Ethan, bow raised and aimed at his heart. Blood spurts from his wrist, his face twisted into a mask of pain and rage. I'm half listening as I continue to wrestle with the Slayer. She's trained and precise but there's no imagination, no fire, and she's inexperienced. Just a matter of taking the opportunity when it comes.
"You think you know me. You think that someone like you could possibly understand me." Faith's voice vibrates with rage. "Because you locked me that cage and took away everything I had. That's what you thought."
"You're dirt," he spits out, holding tightly to his wrist. "You're nothing."
"Wrong." She takes a step forward. "I'm Faith. The Vampire Slayer. And there's one thing you can't take away, no matter how much you cut."
"And what's that? The fact that you're a pathetic excuse for a Slayer?"
She shakes her head slightly, smiling. The arrow leaves the bow with a hiss, slicing through his shoulder and pinning him to the wooden stairs. Stalking toward him, she punches him once, breaking his nose with a crunch. "I'm not going to kill you. You're going back to jail. Back in a cage. Where you belong."
The distraction gives me the opening I need to knock the blade away from Cara and get an arm around her, jerking her arm painfully and yanking her head back. Her neck is wide open. One bite, one twist; another Slayer to my name. The thrill of the kill is singing in my head, pumping through me like fire. I can almost taste her blood. Craving it. Needing it. All I have to do is lower my head, bite down. Who would blame me? She came here to kill us all.
"Spike!" Dawn's voice is pleading, breaking through the fog of rage and bloodlust in my head.
I glance up, seeing the heartbreak in her eyes. I can't kill in front of her; can't give her that image, that memory. The bloodlust dies, fading away into silence. I settle for pulling the Slayer roughly to her feet and motioning for something to bind her with. Buffy supplies a length of rope and helps me truss her to the center support beam. Leaving her under Buffy's watchful gaze, I move to Faith. She's staring at Ethan, her body taut and still charged with fury. Carefully, I take the bow from her hands and lay it gently down.
"Faith, luv."
"I can't turn around," she whispers. "I don't want them to see me."
"You're beautiful." I rub her arms soothingly. "You look like an angel. A very deadly angel."
She looks up at me with a smile. "Liar."
"Yeah, well. Vampire, evil. It's what we do." With a smirk, I pull her into a firm embrace, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
"Faith?" Buffy is watching us with surprise.
Gritting her teeth, she turns to face them. "Hey guys."
"Oh my God." Willow claps her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...it's just. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Will. I've seen a mirror. I know what it looks like." Faith smiles weakly. "Think a little make-up will do the trick?"
"I can do better than that." Willow finally smiles. "How about a healing spell? Cuts down on the scarring." She motions to her own scar, barely a silver line crossing her cheek below the eye.
"How'd you get that?" I don't remember her having it before.
"Big battle with the First." She shrugs it off. "I'll get my stuff. If you want to, that is."
"Are you kidding?" Faith grins, eyes lighting with hope. "Bring on the mojo. I don't want to look like a scarecrow for the rest of my life."
Reluctantly, I let go of Faith and watch them head up the stairs. Buffy is holding onto Dawn, who is protesting that she doesn't need any help to walk. She's still a bit unsteady and I'm glad when Buffy hands her off to Giles.
"What should we do with them?" I motion to Ethan, bloody and scowling from the staircase. Cara's face is unreadable.
"I think there's hope for Cara," Buffy answers thoughtfully. "Ship her back to England. Maybe the Council can rehabilitate her. Now that psycho Head Watcher is dead."
"Dead?"
"Vampires. Probably another Ethan Rayne special." She shakes her head, smiling faintly. "Sorry I doubted you, Spike."
"Line of work, Slayer. Would've thought the same myself."
"No. You wouldn't have." She turns away. "I still need to talk to you about Dawn. It can wait."
"Yeah. Don't know how much help I'll be. But I know a bloke who might be able to. Bookworm back in New Orleans." I glance at the stairs, wanting to check Dawn myself. And Faith.
"Go on. It's almost dark. Why don't you and the gang go out for dinner?" She smiles brightly. "I'll take care of these guys."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely. Bring me back a salad or something."
"Buffy?" I'm halfway up the stairs before I turn around. "Thanks for hearing me out. Before."
"Least I could do, Spike." She pauses for a second, looking shy for the first time that I've seen. "I'd like to talk to you sometimes. About us, what happened between us...before you left. But it can wait."
"Later then."
"Later."
Buffy stared at the ruined basement, feeling numb and lost. And angry. She would have to replace the door again and the room had been torn apart by the fight between Cara and Spike. Couldn't people choose a battleground other than her basement? And Ethan had stepped on her last nerve. He'd turned them against Spike and set them all up, not caring if they destroyed each other. The image of Faith, scarred and furious, would be forever branded into her memory.
"You're not evil, Cara," she said absently as she began straightening, tossing laundry into piles that would need to be rewashed or refolded. "Just brainwashed."
"Buffy?" Her voice was hesitant. "He did that to her? Her face?"
"Looks that way."
"Why?"
"Ask him yourself."
Ethan glared at them, trying not to put pressure on the arrow through his shoulder and apparently refusing to say anything. Maybe he was in too much pain to open his mouth. Buffy thanked whatever was responsible for small favors. If he opened his mouth again, she may have to break his jaw.
Cara frowned, still looking confused. "Why didn't he kill me? The vampire."
"Because he's Spike." Buffy wasn't sure why Spike hadn't finished the girl off. She sighed as she knelt down beside the Slayer. "If I let you go. Will you go home? Leave Sunnydale, never come back. No orders to follow. You could be your own woman."
"I don't know how." Her dark brown eyes were genuinely troubled.
"No one does. But you'll figure it out. Will you leave? I'd hate to have to kill you."
Cara thought about it for a moment before nodding. "I will go. I think that, perhaps, my training has not adequately prepared me for slaying. And I do not think you are incompetent."
"Thanks." Buffy untied the ropes quickly. "Now get out of here before the others come back down. I can't guarantee they'll agree with me."
"Thank you." Cara rubbed her arms where the rope had been. "Good bye, Buffy Summers."
"Good bye, Cara." She watched the girl climb out of the basement into the setting sun and hoped she would be able to get home safely.
"She'll come back and kill you." Ethan coughed, wincing as the arrow through his shoulder tugged at the injured flesh.
"I don't think so." Buffy picked up the gun slowly, running her fingers over the barrel. "Does this really work on vampires?"
"Why don't you find out? I believe there's one upstairs." He smirked at her. "One who is no longer in love with you. How does it feel? Losing him to her? A filthy whore."
Buffy shook her head and continued straightening up the basement. "You're pathetic, Ethan. All your elaborate plans. You've wasted your life trying to hurt us.
"It's just begun, Slayer. You have no idea what's coming."
"That's life on the Hellmouth for you. But I do know one thing." She glanced up at him. "You won't be around to see it." The sound of a car pulling out of the driveway floated through the opening. "I thought they'd never leave."
"Slayer?" Ethan was starting to look nervous.
"Faith was right." She approached him slowly, raising the gun in her hand and holding it steady. Guns had never been her thing but after seeing Cara's efficiency with them, she was ready to try it out. "You should go back to jail. It's what you deserve."
"You won't do it. It's not in you." There was a note of panic in his voice.
Buffy regarded him thoughtfully. "Faith once told me that if I killed her, I would become her. She said I wasn't ready."
"Smart girl."
"You deserve to rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life, Ethan. For what you've done to us. For what you did to Faith."
"I couldn't agree with you more."
"You don't deserve death." She smiled coldly. "But it's good enough for me." The sound of the gunshot ricocheted through the basement. Ethan's body went limp, blood trickling from a single wound in the center of his forehead, the arrow holding him to the stairs.
"Has the vampire chosen a side?" Chronos sipped his omnipresent martini. "You should try one of these, Clotho. They're really quite good."
"Perhaps another time." She almost giggled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.
"He has chosen." Atropis, the eldest Fate, looked up from her needlework. "The side of life and mercy."
"The side of good," Lachies chimed in, smiling sweetly as she looked around the club. "Mortals have so many wonderful things. Music, joy, love. Such beautiful things."
"And the price?" Chronos gently steered the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Is high, indeed. But suitable." Atropis paused almost imperceptibly, her stitching resuming after just a beat. "Balance must be maintained."
"I don't suppose you would explain to me how this maintains the balance. From many perspectives, the barter itself destroys any semblance of balance."
"There will be a period of unrest." Clotho shrugged carelessly. "As there always is when the seat of power shifts. It is not our concern.
Lachies was still smiling, her luminous eyes following the waitress around the club. "We are bound by the same rules that you are, Chronos."
"I worry, my darlings, that perhaps the best solution was not found. That we were too hasty. Perhaps we did not fully consider the ramifications of our choices."
"It is neither here nor there." Clotho waved his concerns away with a brush of her hand. "I tire of this place. Can we return home now?"
"It's been lovely, Chronos." Atropis stood up gracefully. "As always. But we really should return."
"Thank you for visiting, ladies. Always a pleasure to see you." Chronos smiled as they left the club, chattering happily. Silence settled over tables, broken only the melancholy voice of the saxophone. His glass clinked lightly against the table as he set it down, no longer interested in the clear liquid.
He could feel time spreading out around him as intimately as he felt the surface beneath his fingers and the carpet under his feet. It filled him, made him what he was. He was Time in its essence. He had lived for an eternity and had yet another eternal stretch before him. The laws of the universe were quite strict. Energy must be conserved, action and reaction. Incarnations were never, under any circumstances, to interfere with the affairs of men.
Chronos frowned, something he hadn't done in a million of Earth's years. His hands were bound; he could not take action despite his reservations. Not even for the world that he had grown so fond of and the wonderful martinis that he found here. A vampire had been granted a soul, a vampire had fought to regain his soul. A subtle difference in the wording that resounded with cosmic consequences. For a demon to fight not only himself but also against the very fate he was given had been written off as impossible. They could be cursed, a soul could be imposed upon them, but a demon would never attempt to rise above its nature. It would never succeed if it did. And no demon could resist the siren call of the Hellmouth. Those were the rules; the basic assumptions all morality was founded on and they could not be violated.
The impossible had happened. The unreachable star had been pulled down from the heavens. And the price? He couldn't believe it was worth it. Couldn't believe that there were no other options to be considered. He, of all things, understood the Balance and the cost of each decision. Evil had made its demands and they had been met. No more Slayers. The entire line would wither and die as the forces that created them were destroyed. That was the price of the world. The price for one vampire's soul.
Very slowly, he rose from his booth, leaving his beloved martini on the table. If he could not interfere then he would find someone who could.