Chapter Three
Faith slammed the demon's head into the bar again. His arms twitched on impact. He was slightly slimy, and she had to dig her fingernails into his skin to keep her grip.
Katie and Elena stood behind her, facing the rest of the demons in the bar. Faith didn't have to look at them to know that Katie had her arms crossed, an I dare you look on her face, and Elena held her arms loosely at her side, stake in hand. This was their fourteenth demon bar this week.
"Last chance," Faith said. "The next one will break either your skull or the bar. Which do you think it will be? I'm curious."
"I vote head," Katie said over her shoulder.
"Shall we find out?" Faith asked.
The demon's hands scrabbled against the edge of the bar, and Faith let him lift his head enough to speak. Blood ran down his face, and what had once been a long, pointed nose was now a crumpled mess.
"Look, I don't know anything about no vampire's kid!" the demon whined. "Angel and I were good buddies—"
Faith rolled her eyes and slammed his head down, though more gently this time.
"Okay, okay!" he shouted. "I don't know anything about the kid—"
Faith pushed his head down an inch.
The demon's voice rose an octave, and his speech came out in a frantic rush. "—but there was this guy here a few days ago, askin' around about the same kid!"
Faith stiffened. "What guy?"
"Some Irish guy. Short. I didn't talk to him, just overheard him askin' questions."
Faith frowned, then slammed the demon's head down one last time and let his unconscious body slide to the ground. She turned, wiping her hand off on her jeans, and signaled to Katie and Elena that they were leaving.
She marched outside without bothering to glance at any of the other demons in the bar. Once in the street, she stared up at the one star feebly shining through L.A.'s ever-present cloud of smog.
"So," Katie said. "Another guy."
"Who do you think he is?" Elena asked, shoving her stake in her back pocket.
Faith shrugged, still frowning up at the sky.
"Maybe we should ask him personally," Katie suggested. "Can't be that many Irish guys hanging out in demon bars, even in L.A."
"Faith?" Elena stepped to her side and squinted at her face.
Faith glanced at her, then at Katie, then tilted her head down the street and started walking.
She needed to think. Someone else was looking for Connor. The only reason she could come up with was to kill him, and she couldn't let that happen. She needed to find him, and she was running out of time.
"Faith, slow down!" Elena cried, dragging at her elbow.
Faith stopped. "This isn't working."
Katie frowned and looked around. "Are we lost?"
Faith shook her head, then nodded. "Yes. I mean, not physically. We're not going to find Connor this way."
Elena shuffled her feet and said, "Um, Faith, maybe we can't find him at all."
"What do you mean?"
Elena looked down before meeting Faith's gaze. "I mean, maybe he doesn't exist."
Faith stared at her, then took a step forward. "Listen to me." She glanced at Katie. "Both of you. We are not having this conversation again. He exists. Angel's son is out there, and I'm going to find him." She paused. Elena looked up at her with wide eyes. "Comprende?"
Elena nodded. Katie looked unhappy.
"Good." Faith started walking. After two steps, she heard Katie mutter, "Waste of time."
Faith whirled, retraced her steps, and punched Katie in the face.
The younger Slayer staggered backward, her hand covering her mouth.
"Faith!" Elena cried.
Faith thrust a hand toward her in a warning gesture, and the smaller girl backed up a few steps. Faith widened her stance and looked at Katie. "Fine. We will have this conversation again. You go first."
Katie pulled her hand away from her mouth and glanced at it. She showed Faith the blood smeared across her palm. She spit, wiped her mouth, and said, "I wondered if you'd ever hit me. Guess now I know."
"Guess you do," Faith replied. "But that's not the conversation we're going to have right now."
Katie gingerly touched her lip. "I just think we shouldn't waste our lives chasing after your personal Holy Grail or vision quest or whatever this is. There are people who need our help, and we're demon bar-hopping."
"Connor might need our help."
"But you don't know that," Katie snapped, leaning slightly forward. "You're obsessed with finding him, and you haven't even stopped to think things through."
"Not much of a thinker," Faith said. "I prefer the 'hit first, ask questions maybe' philosophy. But, all right, let's think about it. What's your main reason I'm on a wild goose chase?"
Katie eyed her suspiciously and said, "Vampires can't have children, so Connor can't exist."
"Right, good. A solid piece of evidence." Faith crossed her arms. "And I say, vampires don't have souls and there can only be one Slayer in the world. But I've known two ensouled vamps, and there are three Slayers right here in this street. Impossible crap happens all the time."
Katie opened her mouth, but Faith cut her off. "Also, someone else is looking for Connor. Which means I didn't make him up."
Katie glared at her and glanced at Elena.
"She's right," Elena said, sounding surprised. "One person looking for something might just be crazy."
"Thanks," Faith growled.
"But two strangers looking for the same thing…it must exist in some form."
Katie stared at Faith for a few more seconds, then shrugged and smiled lazily. "All right, then. What's our new battle plan?"
Faith relaxed slightly, cocking a hip. "Like you said, I haven't thought this through. So we need ourselves a thinker." She paused. "We need a Watcher."
"I'm sorry, where are you again?" Giles asked.
"Seattle," Faith said. "Miserable weather, but the vamps love it. Hardly any sun. We might stick around for a while."
Giles said, "Hmm."
"So?" Faith prodded. "Is it possible?"
Giles sighed. "What you're talking about would take an extremely powerful sorcerer. Magic of this magnitude is extremely rare."
"Yeah, but it's happened. I remember Dawn being a whiny punk when I first came to Sunnydale, and she didn't even exist then. So it's been done."
"It's not the magic I find…improbable," Giles said. "It's the boy."
Faith closed her eyes. She was getting tired of hearing this. "We've both seen our share of 'improbable' things, Giles."
"Yes…I just don't…Faith, I don't think you reali—"
She hung up and frowned at the phone. "If I were Buffy, you'd believe me," she muttered at the glowing screen. She looked up at Elena and Katie, both sitting cross-legged on the beds of their motel room. Elena looked at her sympathetically. Katie blew a bubble and popped it. The snap echoed in the small room.
"So, what next?" the tall Slayer asked. "I say we find the Irish dude."
"How?" Faith asked.
Katie stopped chewing her gum for a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe you'll have a dream about it."
"Do you know any more Watchers?" Elena asked before Faith could knock the gum out of Katie's mouth.
Faith shook her head. "They're all dead. The First blew them—" She stopped and stared at Elena.
"What?" Katie asked.
Faith scrambled out of her chair and dove for the nightstand between the two beds. She yanked open the door, shoved the Gideon Bible aside, and pulled out the L.A. phone book that filled the entire drawer. She sat on the bed and flipped to the back of the book.
"What are you on about?" Katie asked, scooting closer. Elena shifted as well, kneeling on the bed at Faith's side. She leaned over and pulled the Bible from the open drawer and sat back, running her hand along the cover.
"Not all of them got blown up," Faith said. "One of them was here in L.A., working for Angel." She turned a few more pages, then slowed, trying to remember how to spell his name.
"So we can just call him up?"
Faith shook her head slightly, running her finger down a column. "He's dead, too." She smothered the emotions that leapt up inside her. Wind, Windbells, Windebank. Faith swore. He wasn't here. She squinted at the book, then flipped a few pages farther back. Maybe…Wynarski, Wyncoop, Wyndham. There.
Wyndham-Pryce, Wesley.
She scanned the address and tore the page out. She hadn't been too aware of the outside world the last time she'd been to Wes's apartment and only had a vague idea of the general area of his neighborhood. "Come on," she said, standing. "One more errand tonight."
"What kind of errand?" Katie asked, looking suspiciously hopeful.
"Right up your alley," Faith replied, pulling on her jacket. "Breaking and entering."
Elena's head snapped up from her lap, where the Bible still lay closed. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not going."
Faith looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Katie and I will be back in a while."
Katie shoved her feet into her trainers. "Ah, come on, 'Lena. He's dead, so it's not like we're really doing anything wrong."
Elena merely shook her head and looked at her lap.
"She's fine," Faith said. "Let's go."
Outside the motel, Katie said, "One thing I don't understand. If he's dead, he can't actually tell us anything. Why the visit?"
"You've never met a Watcher," Faith said. "They're anal, research types. Write everything down. And Wesley was more anal than most." She frowned. "At least, he used to be. Let's hope some things never change. And that his stuff is still there."
"How long has he been dead?" Katie asked, sounding thoughtful.
Faith glanced over her shoulder at the other girl before answering. "About a month."
Katie was quiet for a second. "We might get lucky," she said. "We're just coming up on rent time. Depending on what kind of place he lives in, missed rent might be the first time they notice he's gone."
Faith grunted.
They took a cab to Wesley's block, which had a surprising amount of traffic for a residential zone at four o' clock in the morning, even for L.A. Faith and Katie casually entered his apartment building and managed to find a stairwell without looking lost. Faith didn't like elevators; nowhere to run.
On the second-floor landing, Faith pulled the phone book page from her pocket and looked at Wesley's apartment number again. 762. They climbed the rest of the flights in silence, and with a quick glance over her shoulder at Katie, Faith cracked the stairwell door.
The hall was empty, and Faith slipped through the door, Katie following. They walked down the corridor, and Faith was impressed at how quietly Katie could walk in her boots. Faith flinched at each creak and thud that came from her footfalls. She'd never bothered to learn stealth. It wasn't her style.
Apartment 762 was halfway down the hall, and Faith slowly wrapped her hand around the handle, wondering if they dared break down the door. A small application of muscle broke the doorknob's latch, but they still had to get through the deadbolt. Faith looked back at Katie and tilted her head toward the door. She lifted one knee to mimic the beginning of a kick and raised her eyebrows.
Katie shook her head and gestured for Faith to move. Faith stepped to the side and slightly back and watched as Katie pulled a pocketknife from inside her jacket. She chose what looked like a tiny screwdriver and jammed it into the lock. A few seconds of wiggling later, the lock clicked and Katie pushed the door open. Faith stared into the dark apartment, stunned at their good luck.
It was just as she remembered it.
They moved inside and shut the door, and Faith found a light switch.
"Jackpot?" Katie asked in a low voice.
Faith nodded. "See if you can find something to carry a lot of paper in. We'll just take everything and sort through it later." Katie disappeared into the bedroom as Faith began to rifle through Wesley's desk, stacking everything that looked like notes in a pile. Katie appeared with a small suitcase and started emptying a small file cabinet. They worked quickly, the only sound the rustling of paper and the sliding of drawers.
As she shoved papers into the suitcase, Faith found herself both relieved and saddened by Wesley's preserved apartment. It meant that everyone who would have missed him had died with him. It meant that his body had never been identified, if it had even been found. She figured that was how everyone in this fight would end up sooner or later, how she would most likely end up—just another Jane Doe or dinner for something ugly.
When they'd collected every scrap of paper in the place, Katie asked, "What about the books? Should we take some of them?"
Faith looked at the shelves covering every wall of Wesley's apartment, at the books stacked on every flat surface. "No," she said. "We can't afford to lug that much with us every time we travel. I'll call Giles and suggest he send someone for them before the landlord realizes Wes ain't coming back." She slammed the suitcase shut. A few page corners stuck out, giving the old case an even more haggard look. She stood, hefting it in one hand. "Let's go."
Faith carefully closed the bathroom door, trying to keep the click of the latch as quiet as possible. The last thing she wanted right now was awake and curious Junior Slayers. She flipped the light switch and turned, looking at the suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor.
Dropping to her knees, she eased the suitcase to the floor. She gently undid the clasps, trying to muffle the noise, silently cursing Wesley for not having a suitcase that zipped like normal people. Papers spilled onto the tile floor as she opened the case, and she felt a twinge of regret.
Faith sat back on her heels, frowning. Angel's death had turned her into an emotional sap. Maybe a little crazy, too. Here she was, sitting on a motel bathroom floor in the middle of the night, about to—of all things—read a Watcher's academic notes, and on top of it all she was feeling guilty about badmouthing Wesley's stupid suitcase. Wes was dead, and he certainly didn't care now if she cried for him or cursed him. Neither would do him a bit of good.
She called herself a few names under her breath, then cussed out the suitcase for good measure. Shaking her head, she settled against the bathtub and picked one of the sheets of paper off the floor. She began to read.
Angel thrust the baby into her arms, and she was surprised how heavy he was, like holding an anvil.
The baby gurgled, then vamped out and launched itself at her neck. She shouted and stumbled backward as the baby sank its fangs into her throat. She yanked the baby off and threw it across the alley, and as it tumbled through the air, it grew. It landed in a crouch, a full-grown boy.
Faith looked over at Angel, but he was gone. When she looked back at the boy, he had disappeared as well. Spinning, she noticed a door set into the building behind her. She pulled it open and stepped through it.
She was in the hallway of an office building, the walls, carpet, and art neutrally colored and bland. Someone disappeared around the corner, and she sprinted after him. She turned the corner and skidded to a halt when she nearly ran into Katie and Elena playing darts. Covering the dart board was a picture of Angel holding a baby.
"Have you seen Connor?" Faith asked.
"He's hiding," Elena said. "Do you have a map?"
"I have this," Faith said, lifting a suitcase.
Elena frowned at it. "There's no map in there. Maps don't belong in suitcases. You'll have to look somewhere else."
Katie threw a dart, its point piercing Angel's heart and the baby's skull at the same time. Katie clapped her hands once in victory and hissed, "Yes! Two birds with one stone."
Faith looked down at the suitcase. Dust leaked from its hinges. She heard a ringing noise, and looked up to see Elena pull a cell phone from her pocket and answer it.
"Yes? No, I'm afraid he's unavailable at the moment. Perhaps you'd like to make an appointment?" A pause. " I'm sorry, but you're not his only case."
Katie threw another dart.
Something touched her shoulder, and Faith lashed out, her fist connecting with something solid. She heard a strange, two-toned yell, and someone shouted her name. She opened her eyes and blinked, trying to focus.
Elena knelt at her side, and Katie was sprawled in the tub, her legs hanging over the edge, her hand rubbing her jaw.
"That's the second time you've hit me in twenty-four hours," Katie said, grinning with one side of her mouth. "Must have been a whopper of a dream."
Faith pushed herself off the floor and into a sitting position, looking at the papers strewn around her. "Sorry," she said. "Reflex."
"No kidding," Katie said, scrambling to her feet. "And dude, why is the tub full of Watcher notes?"
Faith glanced over her shoulder. "Those are the ones I'm done with."
Katie whistled. "You read a lot."
"They're more boring than they look."
"Any luck?" Elena asked.
Faith shook her head. She started to her feet, but paused halfway, frowning as her "whopper of a dream" came back to her. She looked again at the notes scattered across the floor and said, "I don't think we'll find anything here."
"Really?" Katie asked. "Because I already found some freaky drawing of a six-legged demon." She turned the page in her hand to show Elena. "Says the best way to kill it is setting it on fire. That kind of knowledge might come in handy sometime."
Elena cocked her head and studied the drawing. "It reminds me of you," she said, grinning. Katie flicked the page at her face, but she ducked and turned to Faith. "The notes will not help?"
Faith shook her head, standing completely. "These won't. But I think I know where we need to go."
"You had the dream again, didn't you?" Elena asked quietly
Faith nodded. Her muscles hummed. They'd find something this time, she was sure of it.
"Goodie," Katie said, dropping the drawing. It floated down into the tub. "Another field trip."