Chapter 5

Never Kill a Boy on a First Date

Are you ever waking up?

Damn it. You are.

The pounding in the back of your skull is like an echo of The Bronze. You hear a girl whimpering and you aren't sure if it is you or someone else.

Your vision swims with warm glows, which condense and sharpen into the form of candles. Hundreds, gathered around a cave. No. Not just a cave. Cracked pavers. Arches. A church? A church in a cave?

When you move everything spins and shifts. Nausea hits you like a wave and send you back down into the dirt.

Great. There are manacles on your ankles.

The whimpering becomes begging, growing rapidly into a squeal. A sharp intake of breath and gasp. You don't need to see the vampire to know what is happening.

"This one?" a deep baritone voice says, so loud and close that you have to grip your skull. "Why have you not brought her before The Master?"

"She is poison." a woman's voice, honey smooth southern belle. "I was going to give the wretch a few days to flush out. But by all means, I would love to see you set her before The Master".

"I see you have not outgrown your childish games Darla. I warn you. Do not cross me."

Your eyes focus. The school girl is standing by the bars, looking down on you with disappointed eyes.

You have no idea how much time has passed. A scant few hours, perhaps, but your Slayer healing has worked it's magic. You don't let them know that, of course, remaining on the floor, throwing in the odd groan for good measure.

From your vantage point, you can see little beyond a staircase carved from rock, lined with candles. It is shudderingly similar to Kakistos lair, and right now you know better than to let the memories claw you back down. You have heard a dozen distinct voices possibly more. Even if you get lucky, that is a lot of vamps to take down, even for a decent Slayer.

Praying no one will hear, you reach down and with your bare hands prize the first manacle apart.

The crack of metal echoes down the hall.

Has someone heard? The hairs on your neck bristle. Heart hammering, you try to pry loose the second manacle but it is far more stubborn than the last.

A shadow falls across you, and there is a deep growl. The boyish face of Xander Harris leers down at you, but the smile he wears twists the face up all wrong.

"Well, well. Faith Lehane? what are the odds?"

He runs his clawed fingers down the greasy black bars. "I figured it was only a matter of time before a girl like you would join us in the dark". He threads his long arms through the gaps and leans on the bars, a spectator at the zoo.

"Well, I changed my mind. How about you let me out."

"Oh, my apologies, here, let me help." the latch clicks and the gate groans wide open. Somehow that feels worse. "There. Well, now. Off you go. Free as a bird."

You stagger to your feet, still weak and aching, and drop into a fighting stance. Even without the chains, your limbs feel impossibly heavy.

Seconds later you are back down into the dirt, knees buckled and ankle roaring with pain.

"I can smell your fear." he says, sliding through the doorway. "Believe me, Faith. It's intoxicating. One of the many things you will enjoy soon."

"I ain't afraid of you, Harris. You where a loser in life. Now? Your just a dead loser".

"Then won't we make a fine pair?" he says, crouching over your prone form.

His face is shifting real slow. The crackle and crunch of bones and flesh reforming. His eyes are yellow and far too close to yours. Fangs slide into place, long and needle sharp.

"If only I hadn't been so cowardly in life, Faith. I saw how you looked at me. The lust in your eyes. Don't pretend it wasn't there".

"Please." you whimper. His foul breath on your face. "Please..."

"Please what?" he grins.

He chokes hard on your kick. You feel his Adam's Apple crunch, and flick his head back with your boot toe. He staggers, and you are on your feet after him.

His arms are strong and faster than you expect, and he has your leg, the pain of his claws registering over all else, and you know you are going to fall back.

You use it. Throwing your arms out to break your fall as your other foot swings up into his sternum. The vampire drops hard. Your window is small, so you roll, and tear at the second iron band around your ankle. No movement- hands too slick with grease and blood.

You growl, working your nails into the crack, desperately trying to find purchase.

The vampire rises before you, hunched and furious, a low, sickly, gurgle pouring from his smashed throat. Yellow eyes in the candlelight. Yellow eyes like his. Like Kakistos.

Iron giving way, you prize hard, hissing as one of your finger nails is ripped out by the root.

Xander is upon you again. Claws and limbs thrash against your graceless blocks. You feel a vein open on your shoulder and blood flow hotly down your back. The weight of him is on you now, the stink of death filling your nostrils.

You stand. Hard and fast, jack knifing upwards, the force smashing the vampire into the cave roof.

He lands at your feet with a sickening crunch no human could get up from. But he isn't, is he?

You tear at the chain in the wall, ripping at the stone with all your might. A clawed hand seizes your hair, tearing it out as you turn.

You dive forward and drive him into the doorway with all your strength. One well placed roundhouse slams the door onto his skull, and he is dazed. You go again. And again, each blow crashung the metal against him, crushing flesh and bone.

This time you drop kick the gate, and the force severs what is left of his head. The dark cell lights up as the boy's body cracks through with unholy fire, crumbling to dust a moment later. Xander's death scream is far, far too loud.

Growls echo down the halls, and footsteps follow.

You flee, taking a wild guess at an exit, just praying for distance at this stage.

But then, your path forks sharply and opens out to a lofty caver, and there, framed by countless candles is something that seems ripped from your nightmares.

"No." you gasp through bloody teeth, and somehow you freeze on the stair, even though every fiber in you is screaming to run.

It is just like one in the chamber where you found Kakistos. Just like the one in which he so easily held you down. You remember it. Of course you do. Because it comes to you every night. Kicking against air, fighting to breathe, yet each breath pulling more and more rancid blood into your throat.

The well of blood.

A dark form of a man stands waist deep in the center of that horrifying pool. He turns to observe you through cruel red eyes. Face wrinkled and deathly pale. Lips stained with countless lives.

Slayer.

Now you run. You run as fast as you have ever run. Until you are spiraling up stairs and tearing through cobwebs. Up and up, up and out, the sunlight stinging your eyes, your lungs and limbs roaring in pain.

But you keep going. Because you are helpless to do anything else.

Giles opens the door with a look of fear that quickly turns to relief. You tumble into his arms. Completely spent.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

You sit numbly as he stitches your cuts. The deep gash on your shoulder, and several you didn't even register.

You feel the tug of the thread, the warm of the mug in your hands. Nothing else.

"Kennedy didn't find her." you mumble. More of a fact than a question.

"No. I'm afraid not." he says soberly.

"How is she?"

"I am more worried about you" he says, snipping a thread.

"Me?" you chuckle "I'm five by five. Living the dream."

"Well," he says. "See if you can get some rest regardless. I'll bring you up some soup."

That night, Kennedy pays you a visit. Sort of. You feel her presence at the doorway but she doesn't speak or come in. You aren't certain you want her to. Or why she would ever want to.

She leaves shortly after, and you fall into a restless sleep.