Dissemination
Evil had a sense of humor. And a Rolex. But He didn't like to brag. What he did fancy was the sixteen-car pile-up on the expressway caused by a red-faced and short fused real estate agent with a cell phone glued to his ear who had cut off a soccer mom driving a minivan. She swerved into a pickup truck, swiping the back end and sending it tumbling down the asphalt. There was blood, broken glass, twisted metal, and best of all; a third of the Middlebrook Raptors junior soccer team had met a rather gruesome end.
It made His day.
Finding enjoyment in one's existence was always important, especially if one only saw the filthiest dregs of human nature day in and day out for the incomprehensible stretch of eternity. Mankind never ceased to amaze Him with their seemingly infinite creativity for pain and suffering. Civilizations rose and fell; time and space gave birth to new worlds and swallowed others into darkness; nothing was certain but change. And Him. Permanent job security.
The others merely existed, watching and following the courses laid out for them. Chronos drank his martinis; Alatheia built those bizarre little castles that always ended up looking like melting birthday cakes; Gaia spent endless days communing with the forest creatures. Did squirrels really have that much to say? Perhaps it just took them a long time to say it. Thanatos, the scythe bearing workaholic who hadn't taken a day off in the very long history of the universe, was worse company than a roomful of nuns. A statement that Good would find offensive, since the prancing, halo-toting incarnation of peace and light actually found their incessant chattering pleasant. Good was a perfect example of no sense of humor. And Evil could not abide the nattering of the Fates, answering in riddles and finishing each others' sentences until they drove Him mad in digital surround sound. The only Incarnation he could abide was War, whichever name he was using this epoch.
Evil had a hundred names, a thousand names. Mesphistopheles, Azazel, Lucifer, Ereshkigal, Set, Xipetotec. They were endless. At last count, He had more monikers than Good had managed to accumulate through the years. It wasn't hard when people tended to get hung up on the easy to remember but altogether lacking in originality - God. Such a pity. Naming them at all was quite ridiculous. Granted, it did make things easier at reunions by cutting down on finger pointing and using lengthy titles such as Incarnation of All Evil. And no one really minded being worshipped by the odd sect here and there even if they were beyond human comprehension. Tiny minds, weak and pathetic people praying to strange and vengeful gods when there was really nothing but time, space, and the Incarnations. Who didn't listen and didn't care about one small planet spinning silently through the void.
Sighing into His hazelnut latte and flipping open the New York Times, He scanned the headlines for juicy tidbits of chaos and destruction. Drug busts, murders, rumors of war looming on the horizon, terrorists. What a wonderful world this was. His soft laughter caught the attention of some of the other patrons in the glitzy cafe. They saw an expensive Italian suit and leather shoes. A lawyer, an investment broker, whatever they wanted to see. He made every effort to be accommodating.
The joy of being the Incarnation of All Evil was that He was, inherently and by definition, evil. Incarnations were forbidden to interfere with the affairs of men. It had consequences of cosmic and universal proportions. Of course, evil was never expected to play by the rules. Funny things, rules and regulations, they only stopped those willing to uphold them. He wasn't and He didn't have to be.
A plane crash in Africa was calling him. Shot down by militant revolutionaries. Ares would already be there, screeching and calling for blood. Perhaps He could interest War in a quick game of murder and mayhem. A truly magnificent world. And such a glorious destruction He had planned for it.
"I should be back in a few days. Sooner if you need me. You really don't need me. Except to answer phones and do research. But you have Wesley to do that and he's usually faster than I am anyway." Winifred Burkle frowned at the stack of books she was trying to fit into the banker's box. She really wanted to take all of them.
"Fred. We'll be fine." Angel smiled as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and began rearranging the books for the seventh time, trying to find a better fit.
"I just feel bad, you know. Leaving now with everything up in the air like it is." She glanced up, making sure she wasn't saying anything offensive.
"They need you more than we do right now," he reassured her.
"It is exciting." She couldn't keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. "And I've been working on a way to predict and maybe record mystical energy. Wesley even suggested going to the Hellmouth to study it a few months ago. I just didn't." She sighed. "They will come back. You're their Champion. They have to come back."
"Don't worry about it, Fred." Angel took the last book out of her hand and set on top of the box. Picking it up easily, he started toward the door of the library. Angel Investigations had left the Hyperion Hotel three years earlier, too many bad memories haunted the old hotel. After a few false starts, they found an old warehouse that had been converted into offices. There was room for a large training area; Gunn and Wesley had knocked out a couple of the walls to build a library for research. They dug sewer access for Angel and added a covered parking area. Some of the extra rooms were used as cozy guest rooms if research stretched into the night or a client needed a safe place to stay.
Fred followed him, picking up her suitcase on the way. "If you guys need any of the books."
"We'll be fine."
Charles Gunn waved from the bottom level, watching them coming down the stairs and taking Fred's suitcase when she reached the ground. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be. Thanks, Charles." Fred smiled a little nervously. "Feels strange to be going to Sunnydale without you guys. I don't even know anyone. Except Willow and I haven't seen her since the whole Angelus fiasco." She paused at the door, watching the two men load her things into the back of the small car. "I just hope I can help them. I'm not really up on my dimensional matrices and I never got back to that paper about space-time. I mean, even though I know it's possible, I still haven't done the math."
"Just be careful." Gunn opened the door for her.
"It can't be worse than L.A., Charles." She grinned up at him as she pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder and put the car into gear. "Tell Gwen I have the new adapter for her when she gets back from China. I'll have her rewired in no time."
"Thanks, Fred."
Gunn and Angel waited until the car disappeared before turning silently back to the building. Without Fred's comforting chatter, the only sounds were the quiet strains of Lorne's Spanish guitar music and the occasional creak of the old warehouse. Even the phones were quiet. Demon activity had been low for a couple of days. They made their way back to the main office to catch up on paperwork or just relax until someone needed their help.
"Did Fred go already?" Cordelia looked up from her desk beside the window and the stack of invoices she was working on. Her dark hair was long again, tied back from her face in the severe, no-nonsense ponytail that still seemed out of place on the once gregarious cheerleader. There was nothing cheerful about her now. There hadn't been since they had left the Hyperion.
"Yeah." Gunn settled onto the couch across the office, looking between the vampire and Cordelia. "Maybe all this weird vibrating is what's cutting off the visions. Like some sort of evil static."
"Maybe." She turned back her work.
"Cordy." Angel took a step toward her.
"No." Her voice was sharp. She hadn't let anyone get close to her in years, staying locked in self-imposed isolation. "The Powers will send you someone else. They won't abandon you."
"It's not like that."
"I'm not your link anymore, Angel." She shook her head bitterly. "I'm surprise they didn't do this years ago."
"We don't know why this is happening."
"Yes, we do." Tearful brown eyes blinked as she stood up. "Don't do this, Angel. Don't pretend everything's the way it was. I'll answer the phones, I'll file, I'll do the accounting. Just don't ask anything more from me. Please."
"I could contact them. Ask them why."
"How? The Oracles are dead, remember?" Cordelia moved away from the desk and turned to the window, staring out into the city. She was also bathed in light from the late afternoon sun, effectively keeping Angel from getting closer. "Let it go."
"There might be another explanation. Like Gunn said."
Her voice was flat, eyes staring blankly through the glass. "Connor is gone because of me."
Angel didn't have anything else to say.
"The answer is still no." Buffy hefted the last FedEx box through the doorway and into the living room, adding it to the other boxes on the dining table. "Faith doesn't want them to know she's still alive. I told her to take patrol tonight and stay with Spike." She looked around the room with a little bit of frustration. "Which she was probably going to do anyway."
"The Council has every right to know that they have three active Slayers." Giles slit open another box and began pulling out books and folders, glancing occasionally through some of the pages. "If their offer of help is genuine, and I believe that Iverson will be true to his word, then we should be upfront with him as well."
"Still no."
"You're not being reasonable about this."
"What do you want me to say, Giles? That Faith is alive. And by the way, she's now sleeping with the vampire who killed her." Buffy shook her head. "We both know what the Council thinks of that."
"She has a point, Giles." Willow looked up from her box.
"It's also possible that Spike could help us. You said that he could hear this voice Dawn's been hearing."
"Even better. Bring the vampire the Council sent to kill us all."
"Iverson assures me that it was Elliot's private vendetta against you. They believed Spike would be killed here in Sunnydale." Giles gave Buffy a pointed look, not having to voice the question of why she hadn't kill him aloud.
"Why are you taking their side anyway? The blew up your car."
"Buffy."
"Never mind." Buffy began stacking books, moving them to the coffee table. "I'll play nice. Because they've sent us all this stuff and if it helps Dawn then it will be worth it. But I'm not going to involve Faith or Spike. The sooner they get out of Sunnydale, the better."
"Do you condone their relationship?"
"What am I supposed to do about it? Ground them? Send them to their rooms?" Buffy curled up into her favorite chair and began sifting through one of the files. "If they're happy, more power to them."
"Happy?" Giles was stopped by a look from Willow.
"Remember happy, Giles? That feeling you get when you're not trying to avoid another apocalypse and there aren't demons or gods or Hellmouths out there messing with your sister's head. Hugs and puppies. Or a Christmas without the First Evil. How about a Halloween where the vampires actually stay in like the good little blood sucking fiends they're not."
"We'll find something." Willow loaded Giles up with books and pushed him toward the sofa. "Xander will be back with Mr. Iverson and Fred called from the turn off about twenty minutes ago. This whole mysterious frequency shifty thing doesn't stand a chance will all the super brainpower we're going to have. Dawn will be fine."
"Faith and Spike could possibly contribute." Giles eased his stack of books onto the coffee table, balancing them carefully. "I can hardly believe that none of you have even seen Spike since the basement. Have you even tried?"
"Giles." Buffy stared at him levelly. "What part of Faith and Spike are having sex did you not understand? Maybe that's how some people get their kicks but I don't wanna see it. Besides, if Spike had something important to tell us, he would have been over here by now."
"You're sure about that?"
"If it's about Dawn, yes. He would never hurt Dawn." Buffy turned back the folders in her lap.
"Buffy."
"Drop it."
"I don't-"
"Drop."
"You need to be-"
"Drop."
"Very well." Giles took off his glasses and began to polish them studiously.
"Stuffy British guy alert." Dawn breezed down the stairway and pulled the front door open, startling the man on the porch as he raised his hand to knock. Clair Iverson was in his mid forties, tall and slender with a mop of unruly sandy blond hair and brown eyes; dressed in slacks and a wrinkled oxford shirt that had probably been neatly pressed when he left England. A worn leather case was slung over his shoulder.
"One Watcher delivered right to your door. Now that's service." Xander moved past the Englishman. "I've offered him the spare closet at my place since things are getting pretty full around here."
"Thanks, Xan." Buffy uncurled and got up to greet the new Head Watcher. He had a friendly smile. Much more approachable than Quentin Travers. "I'm Buffy."
"Miss Summers. Pleased to meet you. Clair Iverson." He shook her hand firmly. "Rupert. I didn't realize that you were injured. Mr. Harris tells me it was an explosion?"
"Car bomb. I believe Elliot tried to kill me."
"Oh." Iverson seemed surprised and a little uncomfortable. "We are very sorry about what happened with Samuel. I'm afraid none of us realized how far he had gone."
"Not to sound pushy." Buffy returned to her chair. "But what can you tell us about Dawn."
"I'm Dawn." Dawn waved as she took a seat on the couch.
"You're the Key?" Iverson stared at her for a moment.
"Pretty lifelike, huh?"
"I'm sorry." He smiled and took the chair Willow offered gratefully. "I've spent too much time in an office or the library. Sometimes I forget the shock of seeing the real thing. It's quite amazing actually that the monks managed to create something so flawless out of their limited resources." He glanced at Dawn. "And quite lovely." Dawn blushed crimson and picked up a book to hide behind.
"Wouldn't try anything. If you like your kneecaps." Xander settled in next to Dawn.
"Oh, I didn't mean," Iverson stammered.
"Xander's joking. Although not about the kneecaps actually," Buffy interrupted. She waved to the boxes on the table. "I'm assuming you sent us all of this stuff."
"Yes. Everything we have or can find about the Key. There will be more arriving tomorrow." Iverson switched to business mode. "As well as our resources pertaining to the Hellmouth and dimensional structure."
"So you know?" Buffy frowned. "About Dawn tuning into radio Hellmouth?"
"It's like an evil lojack in my brain." Dawn smiled faintly.
"What?"
"We believe," Giles began, clearing a place to sit. "That Dawn is picking up the energy signals from the Hellmouth much like a radio receiver would. She's been hearing whispers for several days now. And we have reason to believe that demons can hear them as well. At least vampires." He bit his tongue to keep from saying more.
"I see." Iverson watched Dawn for a moment. "I can't say I'm surprised. The Key has the power to bring down the dimensional walls. It should have been obvious that it would be sensitive to the same influences."
"We've got the dimensional wall expert coming." Willow finished unloaded the last box and stacked it in the corner. "A physicist. She's been working on the whole space-time, mystical portal theory for the last few years. Spent some time in Pylea."
"Pylea? The Deathwok dimenson?" Iverson gave Willow a puzzled look.
"That's the one."
Xander raised a hand. "Is that like an Ewok?"
"Green with red horns, Xander...not cute and furry." Willow rolled her eyes, dragging another chair next to Buffy and starting into a stack of books.
"Fascinating. We really should require all Watchers to spend time here." Iverson was smiling. "Should we get started then? I'm rather afraid that as soon as the jetlag hits me, I won't be of much use to you."
"Fire away." Buffy eyed him warily as he opened the leather bag at his side and pulled out another handful of paper. They probably had a hundred trees in the living room alone.
"First. I've already apologized for Elliot. It was never our intention to endanger you or your friends." He paused. "And we never believed that Spike would kill Faith. In fact, we had hoped that one of you would finally rid us of the vampire known as William the Bloody. He was proving difficult to find and capture. I'm afraid that the Council handled the entire affair quite poorly."
"But you knew about the chip and that he was coming here to kill Faith?" Buffy asked sourly.
"Yes. We knew. We didn't find out about the chip and what Elliot had done until just after the Council reformed. Elliot was quite a few steps ahead of us."
"And Cara?"
"Elliot gave her the orders. I'm afraid I don't even know what they were but I'm assuming they weren't what they should have been." He hesitated. "I don't suppose you know what has happened to Cara?"
"I sent her home. Why?"
"We have had no contact with her. No other Slayer has been called but we have been unable to locate her."
"She's probably out killing vampires somewhere." Xander shrugged. "She's a Slayer. I'm sure she can take care of herself."
"About those Slayers." Willow looked up from her book with a frown. "I'm sure the whole Terminator Slayer looks good on paper. But wouldn't you rather have a Slayers who can think for themselves?"
"We didn't expect Faith's death," Iverson said simply. "Cara has only completed the first phase of her training. Similar to boot camp for the armed forces. It utilizes a significant amount of what you might call brainwashing but it is not intended to be the final step. The system we've put in place follows the warrior traditions of the Orient. Codes of honor, duty above all else. Learning to follow orders is part of laying the groundwork."
"So you're not turning them into killing machines?"
"A Slayer is a killing machine, Miss Rosenberg. I'm assuming you're Willow Rosenberg?" Iverson smiled when she nodded. "The idea was to pull these girls out of societal conditioning. Strip them bare of preconceived notions and essentially reprogram them. I know it sounds callous and cruel."
"Understatement of the millennium." Buffy scowled at him.
"The time for Slayers like you, Miss Summers, is over. We felt that we could no longer expect them to attempt the balancing act that you have been forced into. Working for a living, trying to get an education. Taking care of a family. In order to focus them on their mission, we sought to eliminate those pressures. We needed a clean slate to work with."
"So you took away their lives?" Buffy demanded angrily. "You took away the only things that ground them here, that keep them from giving up hope. You might as well have signed their death warrants."
"Perhaps. But we have given them clarity and drive."
"You don't understand. Without family, without friends, there is no reason to keep fighting." Buffy didn't see the surprised looks from the gang.
"For you." Iverson pointed out gently. "You can't forget that these girls aren't like you. They don't think the same way, or feel the same way. The very reasons you keep fighting are the same reasons you want to stop."
"What do you mean?"
"The conflict between being the Slayer and having a normal life is what fuels the desire to have it finally be over. That stress, the burden that you feel, as though the weight of the world is on your shoulders. That is what breaks a Slayer." Iverson's voice softened and his smile faded a little. "We believed that by eliminating those pressures, from society and family, we could keep these girls from giving up. They'll never have normal lives. Neither will you. But they don't know that. They don't feel any pressure to have what you call a normal life. They have no desire to be a part of this world. They are protectors and guardians. They are simply Slayers."
Buffy stared at him, speechless, trying to understand what it would be like not to question everything she did, not to wonder what she was sacrificing. Was her slaying falling behind because of work? Was her life in pieces because of her slaying? Would it be better not to have that constant tug of war?
"Are they still human?" Giles asked.
"As human as Miss Summers. We picked up a few tools of the trade from the military, that is all." Iverson was thoughtfully silent for a moment. "That is why I'm so concerned that Cara hasn't made contact. We don't know what will happen to her if she doesn't complete the training. No idea how she will adapt to this world. She has no mechanisms for dealing with the complexities of morality. No social construct in which to fashion right or wrong. She's like a child, unequipped to deal with adult situations."
"She said she was going back to England." Buffy rubbed her temples, trying to ease the tension headache that was beginning to creep into her skull. "The last I saw her was Monday night."
"We are confident she will return." He didn't sound confident. "I am sorry if you don't agree with our methods but I can assure you that we have decided this is the best option for the girls. We simply couldn't justify allowing them to suffer as you and Faith suffered."
"Her traumatic childhood and the resulting emotional instability could have been avoided if we had found her under the new system. In her case, our training would have been a vast improvement for her and innocent people would not have lost their lives here in Sunnydale." He gave Buffy a measured look. "I'm afraid that Slayers with loving homes and families are the exception rather than the rule."
"Can they love?" Dawn asked curiously. "Your new Slayers."
"It isn't part of their programming beyond love and compassion for mankind and all innocent creatures. Personal, romantic love was not deemed useful in their training. I know how it sounds. I've had to struggle with it day in and day out since the Council put the new system into place. But if we can avoid another Faith then it will be well worth it. And the girls aren't suffering. We don't treat them cruelly or inhumanely." The doorbell interrupted the conversation.
"Probably Fred." Willow hurried to the door. "Fred! Hey. Come on in." The slender woman smiled nervously as she stepped through the doorway, holding a suitcase tightly in front of her like a shield.
"I've got books in the car. Angel carried them out. Too heavy for me."
"Buff?"
"One pack horse coming up." Buffy was relieved for the chance to get out of the house and away from the conversation. Her head was spinning with possibilities. What if he was right? What if it was better to not have family or friends? Every Slayer had a death wish. She had believed that her ties to the world were what kept her from giving in to that desire. What if she had been wrong? What if they were the source of it? Shaking off the gloomy thoughts, she retrieved the box of books from the back seat and turned back to the house. More books. There had to be something in here to help them with Dawn. Introductions were proceeding merrily when she returned, hearing Fred's nervous laughter. The willowy physicist seemed a little skittish and shy, like Willow in high school only about a hundred times worse. If she worked with Angel then she had to have some strength under that rabbit imitation. Hopefully.
"You're Dawn." Fred pulled a chair next to the couch beside Dawn. "I'll really like to have you test a few things. Nothing painful, I promise. Just listening. If you can actually hear dimension fluctuations then I might be able to test my theories for determining boundary conditions."
"Sure." Dawn looked a little confused. "As long as there isn't any ritual bloodletting involved, cause I've done that and it's not fun."
"This is so exciting." Fred beamed as she began searching through the box of books. "I took a few of Wesley's. He wasn't there but I don't think he'll mind and we don't use these particular volumes very often anyway."
"How's the old Watcher doing?" Buffy cleared a space on the coffee table for the new arrivals.
"Good. Good. He's been seeing this woman. Mariata or something. I think she's part demon. Not too sure on the species but he seems to like her." Fred glanced at the Head Watcher apprehensively, still unsure if she was supposed to answer questions in front of him.
"Wesley Wyndham-Price?" Iverson was interested.
"That's the one."
"I've always considered him to be-"
"One of the Council's failures, I know. He told me about it." Fred shrugged.
"Actually, I consider him everything a Watcher should be. It's a pity there aren't more like him." Iverson picked up one of the books curiously. "Although he was a bit of a disappointment here in Sunnydale. Lacking maturity. Personally, I believe Travers sent him here knowing he would fail. They never believed Faith was a suitable Slayer. Too damaged."
"Really?" Fred was surprised. "I'll let him know. He's a little bitter about the whole thing."
"I can imagine. The previous Council tended to be rather medieval in its approach to Slaying."
"Unlike the new one. Orwell would be so proud," Buffy sniped sarcastically.
"Let's focus on Dawn and the Hellmouth, Buffy," Giles intervened before the argument could resume. "Do you have any theories that could apply to what's happening, Fred?" His voice caught a little uncomfortably as he said her name.
"There are a few options." Fred pulled out a folded sheet of paper and spread it out over the books. "Willow gave me the GPS on those places you told her about. Supernatural hotspots. If you flatten the globe and draw intersecting lines through each one of them at forty-five degree angles." She pushed her glasses back on her nose as she traced a dark line over the map. "They're equidistant from each other."
"Evenly spaced," Willow added in layman terms. "Across the globe in regular intervals."
"Forming a matrix." Fred tapped the map. "I think they form a dimensional basis. Like the legs on a chair or the support beams in a building. They hold up the dimensional walls. Think of the anchors on the Golden Gate Bridge. If you think of the boundaries between this dimension and the ones that coexist in this same space, all that separates us is a fold in space-time and an energy barrier. We don't have enough energy to get over the barrier normally. Opening a portal is essentially channeling mystical energy to create small temporary rifts. Like putting your hand in a waterfall."
"And Dawn?"
"Is probably picking up the natural frequency of the energy waves." Fred frowned as she shook her head. "But, this is a new development. I don't know what's changed. It had to be something big. To alter the feedback systems between these hotspots and effect something as fundamental as the boundaries. I don't think there's enough magic in this world to do it."
"So we know what's happening but we don't know why." Buffy closed her book with a sigh. "Why am I not surprised? Do we ever know why?"
"I believe that I can help you with that." Iverson took a deep breath and looked around the room slowly. "We've been tracking increases in supernatural activity at all of these hotspots for some time now. Since Cara was called, they have been growing dramatically. We believe that eventually the influence will be strong enough to alter our very reality. This world has already started to bleed into the other dimensions as they have begun to seep into ours."
"You failed to mention this before." Giles glared at the Watcher.
"You wondered why we didn't stop Elliot. It was because we were far more concerned with what is going on. It is why we allowed him to continue his plan to send Spike to Sunnydale. We didn't realize he planned on the vampire killing Faith and sending Cara to eliminate the rest of you. We needed the vampire neutralized one way or another. Faith was a strong fighter and believed to be capable of beating him."
"What does this have to do with Spike?" Buffy frowned anxiously.
"That's the irony of this whole debacle." Iverson chuckled. "It's all about Spike."
2B. This was the right apartment. Buffy could see light inside. Taking a deep breath, she knocked loudly on the door. "Please don't be naked. Please don't be having sex." She waited. Nothing. She knocked again.
"Spike? Don't make me kick down the door! It's three in the morning and you're a vampire. I know you're awake!" she called, tapping one foot impatiently. Giles would have a heart attack if he knew what she was doing. She didn't care. Finally, it swung open. Spike blinked at her, half naked and looking more than a little annoyed. Must have been having sex.
"Buffy?"
"Is Faith here?"
"Yeah. What do you want?"
Buffy pushed past him. "Faith! Get dressed and get your ass out here."
"What's goin' on, Slayer?" Spike closed the door.
"You're leaving. Getting out of town. Both of you."
"B? Where's the fire?" Faith was wearing a white button up shirt. Obviously a man's.
Buffy winced at the parade of mental images marching through her brain. It hurt. Damn. It still hurt. "Head Watcher's in town and he's looking for Spike. They want to kill you. They need to kill you."
"Why?" He was suddenly serious.
"To save the world." Buffy laughed, hollow and brittle. "You've broken some sort of meta-whosit law. Made everything go wonky. They think that killing you will make everything go back to normal." She watched him digest the information, blue eyes moving between her and Faith.
"I haven't done anything," Spike said slowly, confused.
"How did you get your soul back? Maybe it's that. Maybe there's only supposed to be one. Like Highlander." She frowned as she finally noticed the fading bruises on his skin. "And what happened to you?"
"Got these lookin' for Faith." He shrugged. "As for the soul, won it back. From a demon."
"You got your soul on purpose? You weren't cursed?"
Spike looked at the ground. "Wanted to be the kind of man who would never...never do what I did to you."
Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing back the tears threatening to humiliate her. "I'll tell Iverson. Just get out of here. I don't think they'll care that you have a soul now."
"I'm not goin' to bloody run, Buffy," he countered forcefully. "Are they sure? That I've done somethin', fucked everything up?"
"Very sure. They've been trying to get you for a year now. Iverson said you've killed twenty of their men."
"What? I haven't killed anyone but Faith and did a piss poor job at that. Haven't killed a soddin' one since Captain Cardboard and his troop of boy scouts put the goddamn chip in my head." He was beginning to get agitated, running his hands through his hair and scowling at the ground.
"I believe you."
"It's the truth...you do?"
Buffy nodded. "But someone has killed those teams. Someone has kept them from getting to you. And they think the only way to keep this whole world from falling apart is to kill you."
"If they're right?" There was fear in his voice.
"We'll find another way." Buffy steeled her resolve. "I didn't let anyone hurt Dawn. I won't let them go after you."
"Buffy?" He looked shocked. He probably was shocked. She was a little surprised at her own vehemence.
"You too, Faith. They don't know about you yet, but I don't know how long until Giles cracks and tells Iverson that you're both here. So you've got to leave tonight. Keep in touch if you can. Let us know you're safe."
"B." Faith's voice was shaky.
"Spike, could you give us a minute?" She waited for the vampire to retreat to the bedroom, knowing that he could still hear her. "Faith. I want you to know that whatever happened between us is in the past. I'm sorry for the things I said. You were right."
"No worries, B." Emotion slipped off of Faith like water on a duck's back. Always casual, always distant.
"I need to say this." Buffy clenched her fists nervously. "I loved him. Spike. I really did. And I waited for him to come back. It hurts. To see you with him, to know." Faith watched her silently, her scarred face unreadable. "And I'm sorry that things weren't different between us. Between you and me."
"It wasn't your fault."
Buffy shook her head. "I should have been a better friend to you. I should have tried harder." She tried to laugh and turned back to the front door. "When Glory wanted Dawn, Spike was the only one who fought as hard as I did to save her. Who never considered killing her even for a second. I'm trusting you to do the same for him now."
"B. Wait." Faith took a step toward her. "Thanks."
Buffy paused, one hand on the doorknob, and looked back over her shoulder. "Ethan isn't in jail, Faith."
"What?" Panic flashed in her dark eyes.
"He's dead." Buffy smiled, tears finally spilling out onto her cheeks. "I killed him."
"Buffy?" Finally an expression, even if it was horrified alarm. And understanding.
"And I'll kill anyone who hurts one of my friends." Her voice broke and she fled the apartment, wiping away the tears as she made her way home.
It felt better. Somehow. Maybe the world would end and maybe killing Spike would have saved it. She didn't care anymore. Slowing down, she strolled leisurely through Sunnydale, enjoying the chirping of the crickets and the soft breeze. Turning away from her street, she wandered toward the park. Settling into one of the swings, she kicked her feet through the wood chips, pretending she was still a little girl and her father was waiting by the picnic table for her. For a long time, she swung lazily and remembered the times when she had been happy. With her family, her friends. Before Sunnydale and vampires. A few times with Willow and Xander. That summer with Dawn while Willow was in England. Nights with Spike when she had hated herself for feeling anything close to happiness with him.
She was too tired to feel angry or hurt. Despair was tiresome. She had been holding all the pain inside for too long. Letting it control her, make her cold and bitter. The Great Buffy Freeze Out was what Dawn called it when she didn't know Buffy was listening. Ever since the First. It had been hard to be just a sister and just a friend after that. After watching so many girls die fighting. Being responsible for them. She thought of Chloe for a few minutes, wondering if she could have saved her. She would always wonder. It didn't feel as much like failure anymore. She couldn't save everyone. But she would do what she could. Maybe that was all that mattered. Doing what you could day after day.
Giles wouldn't understand, but Dawn would and Willow would. Even Xander wouldn't hate her for warning Spike. As much as he protested and as much as Xander had hated Spike, he understood protecting those you cared about. He'd been trying to protect her since he met her a decade earlier. Her white knight.
If Iverson was right and the ties that bound her were the ties that caused her pain, then she was betraying her duty as a Slayer. She was sacrificing the world for a vampire and a rogue Slayer. Was it really that important? The world was bound to end someday. In a blaze of fire or a swarm of demons, it was all the same. Everything died. Everything came to an end. She could only avert so many apocalypses before there was one she couldn't stop. She couldn't save the world forever.
Pale light appeared in the east and she smiled into the coming sunrise. Dawn. Her sister would probably like pancakes for breakfast. If she got home in time, she could practice a few times before the house woke up. Maybe after a few runs, she could actually manage something edible. Whistling cheerfully, she left the swing set and headed home.
When the end came, it wouldn't matter how many demons she had killed, just that she had been a good friend and a good sister. The bittersweet memory of her tombstone surfaced. She had forgotten that the most important part wasn't that she had saved the world a lot. The most important words were Devoted Sister, Beloved Friend. It was time she started being both of those again. There were enough Slayers. She only had one sister, one Willow, one Xander. It was time to start living again. There were lights shining through the living room windows as she let herself inside.
"Buffy." Giles was standing the doorway. "I've told Iverson about Faith. I'm sorry. I felt it was important. Now that we know Spike is the cause of whatever is happening." Iverson appeared behind him, looking like a man who hadn't slept in two days.
"Did he tell you that Spike has a soul?" Buffy asked quietly. "That he won it back. On purpose. Because he wanted to be a better man." The two Englishmen were speechless. "And you can forget about trying to kill him. They're gone. Left town."
Giles stared at her incredulously. "What have you done?"
Buffy smiled as she headed for the kitchen. "Something a friend would do."