Watching Giles closely, Faith smirked at the wave of pink covering his cheeks. Was there something going on between him and Mrs. Summers? She didn't have too much time to wonder.
"Perhaps I should visit Professor Worth again," Giles muttered, fiddling with his glasses. "I have only the official reports of his dig. If he has personal notes, we may find enough information to identify the demon."
Willow hopped off Oz's knee. "Is that really important right now, Giles?" she asked.
"Of course." Her question confused Giles. He frowned at her, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "With the name of the demon, we might find information on the demon's strengths and weaknesses."
"Alright then," Xander quipped, waving his arms in the air. "More research. Too bad Demon Identification wasn't a class. I might have passed it."
"From what I remember, Xan, it wouldn't have mattered. You and school weren't a good mix." Faith winked at his scowl. She scanned the room, meeting the Scoobies' eyes. This was familiar. The bodies sprawled around the table and the piles of books. The smiles and acceptance were new. They'd find a way. Faith was certain of it That's what the Scoobies did.
Faith grabbed a book and opened it. Her action was a signal. More books opened and pages turned.
Over the sound of creaking chairs, Giles said, "Right. I'll go talk to Professor Worth. Willow, would you care to join me? Another set of eyes would make the work far quicker."
"Sure." Willow grinned and grabbed her book bag. "Let's go. Are…are we taking your car?"
"You want Giles to ride shotgun on your bike?" Buffy asked from her spot near Faith's knee. "If so, pictures must be taken."
The teasing didn't go over well with Giles. "Could we perhaps stay focused?" Glowering at the group, he put on his jacket. "While we're gone, concentrate on demon sightings or unexplained occurrences in the area surrounding the dig."
Buffy watched Giles and Willow leave the library, and then listlessly picked up another book. Despite her earlier pep talk, she wasn't convinced they were going to beat the clock this time.
"Hey, looking a little broody, B." Faith stretched out for another book, brushing her body along Buffy's thigh.
She held the pose just a second too long for it to be accidental, and Buffy grinned. "Feeling better by the minute." She enjoyed the slide of Faith's body against her own on the return trip, too.
"Shouldn't your book be open if you're researching?" Buffy jumped at her mother's question.
"Exactly. Yes. Research means open books," she babbled. Joyce pointed to the still closed book. "Oh. Right." Buffy blindly opened the book and peered at the script.
She glanced back up when Joyce cleared her throat. "And right side up?"
Blushing furiously, Buffy rotated the offending tome and started to read. The text didn't hold her attention for long. Instead, Buffy's mind wandered to Faith. The younger girl huddled over her own book, index finger tracing a path under the words as she read.
Buffy shifted slowly, moving until her left foot nestled between Faith's legs.
Faith's head snapped up, eyes wide. "B!" she hissed, legs tensed to keep Buffy from sliding the foot any further.
Making sure no one else was paying attention to them, Buffy shook her head and winked. She hadn't actually been planning anything, but Faith's reaction was funny. She really was trying to get rid of her Bad Girl image. No touching at home; now, no touching at research parties. Idly, Buffy wondered if she'd have to take Faith back to their rooftop hideaway if she wanted a hug and kiss.
Maybe…Playing a hunch, Buffy reached internally for the emotional link she and Faith had shared. The sharing had continued to be muted; was that permanent, or could she break the barrier keeping them apart? It was awkward. Like trying to pick up a grain of sand wearing mittens. Buffy kept pushing. When she'd used the link to find Faith in the sewers, she'd had to force her way through the wall. She tried that again, mentally battering at the barricade.
After just a few minutes, her head pounded. Using the link to tease Faith had been a joke. It was serious now. Buffy wanted through the conduit.
The library faded. She was blind. In the darkness, Buffy concentrated on a single tiny thread of feeling. Gripping it like a lifeline, she followed the flow; it grew bigger, stronger as she continued to move. The link opened completely with no warning. Pure emotion overwhelmed her. Boredom/exhaustion/guilt/desire/inferiority/a flicker of hope. The swirling emotions eclipsed everything for just a moment – and then disappeared.
Shaking, Buffy blinked to get the room back into focus. Her vision wavered, nausea threatening to send her sprinting for the bathroom down the hall.
Faith looked up, head tilted questioningly. "You OK?" she mouthed.
Buffy nodded. Faith didn't look convinced. She forced a smile. "Headache," she mouthed back.
Their silent conversation was interrupted. "I've got it – I think," Anya announced. "There's a reference from one of the villages around the eruptions to an Ollokai."
"Some sort of demon?" Wesley inquired, sitting stiffly upright in his chair.
"Maybe." Anya pushed her book across the table toward the Watcher. "It sounds a little like Olvikan. It was a really old demon. I haven't heard or seen anything about it in centuries."
Wesley stood abruptly. "Perhaps it's in one of these." Striding across the room and up the steps into the stacks, he pulled books off the Special Collections shelves. "Mr. Giles kept some of his oldest reference books here." He continued to mumble to himself as he flipped through one of the large books. "Yes. Here." Holding the book open, he returned to the table.
Faith joined the rest of the Scoobies crowding the table. The drawing was faint, the page yellowed.
"It looks weird, even for a demon," Xander said, leaning over Anya's shoulder.
"Oh, quite right." Wesley cleared his throat. "Sorry." He pulled the page to the left, and Faith had the irreverent thought it was like some ancient centerfold. The single page extended outward until the entire drawing was displayed. Three yellowed pages of horror.
Swallowing hard, Faith whispered, "That's what the Mayor's gonna be?" The sketch didn't come with a scale; however, it took up three pages. This was no small monster. She'd considered the Mayor her father. Her father wanted to be…that. That thing in the book. A big snake. She took an unsteady step back, dizzy and cold.
A warm hand dropped onto her shoulder. Faith looked up and met Joyce's eyes. "And to think I voted for him." She winked, and Faith felt some of the cold dread in her stomach uncoil. "From now on, I'm staying out of politics."
"Unless we find a nice big volcano on wheels, Mom, I don't think it's going to be a problem." Buffy tossed her book on the table. "Suggestions on how to kill this thing? Are there directions along with the diagram, Wes?"
"I'm afraid not, Buffy," Wesley intoned quietly. "However," he said with forced-sounding cheer, "I'm sure we can come up with something. I have complete faith in you."
The library doors slammed open. "Buffy, Faith, some help please." Giles rushed in, Willow's limp frame in his arms.
Faith was across the room in seconds. Willow was ghostly pale, sweat beading her face. An arrow protruded from her left shoulder. With Buffy's help, they lifted her from Giles' arms and laid her on a hastily cleared table.
"What happened?" Buffy's voice was sharp. She hovered near Willow's head, shaking hand reaching out toward the red hair, but pulling away before making contact.
"We were attacked, obviously." Faith winced. Giles was curt, his attention focused on Willow's wound. "Buffy, please, step back. We need to remove the arrow. I'll answer what questions I can after that."
Buffy didn't move. Faith stepped around the table and took Buffy's hand. "Come on, B. Give him some space, OK?" she said softly. Tugging a little, she managed to drag Buffy back a few steps. Tremors ran through Buffy, and Faith hesitantly rubbed her hands up and down the blonde's arms.
With the path clear, Giles and Joyce examined Willow. "She's losing a lot of blood, Rupert." Joyce's words weren't a surprise. Red soaked Willow's top and pooled on the table below her body. "She needs to be in the hospital."
"Unfortunately, I can't do anything about the bleeding until we remove the arrow." He looked grim, lips pressed tightly together. "And, I'm afraid the hospital may not be safe. The shooter was obviously waiting for us. I don't want to put her at risk by taking her into such an unsecured location."
"You're right." Joyce stroked Willow's sweat-soaked hair. "What do we do now?"
"Lift her torso off the table and hold her." Giles directed. "We'll need to break the shaft in back before extracting the rest." Gently, they moved Willow until she half-sat, leaning against Joyce. Hands shaking, Giles gripped the wooden bolt near Willow's shoulder blade. With a sharp snap, he broke the piece off near the skin. Tossing his prize aside, he shifted.
Buffy stiffened further in Faith's embrace. It was contagious. Faith's own muscles ached with an answering tension. The need to help, to comfort, to do filled her. The quiet in the room was stifling, pressing at her, making it hard to breathe. When Giles ripped the arrow out of Willow's shoulder, she flinched, fingers holding Buffy so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Unnoticed by the gang, Oz had disappeared into Giles' office. He returned now with towels in hand. Displacing Joyce, he cradled Willow in his arms, cloth pressed against the bleeding wound.
Giles didn't answer immediately. Blood stained arrow to his nose, he inhaled deeply. "Wesley, the Council's compendia of toxins is on the shelf over my desk." When the younger man dithered, he snapped, "Good God man, get the bloody book!"
With an insulted huff, Wesley spun on his heel and stalked away.
"What happened, Giles?" Faith asked. She didn't like Buffy's stillness. The shorter girl was still unmoving under her hands, not even seeming to breathe. Her eyes were locked on Willow's face.
"We were coming out of Professor Worth's apartment building. Willow was in front of me." Giles rubbed his jaw, leaving blood smear behind. "I never heard the shot or saw the shooter. Willow simply crumpled to the ground."
The gang seemed frozen by the visualization.
"It was the Mayor." Buffy's voice was eerily flat.
Holding back her instinctive protest, Faith moved closer to Buffy, wrapping her arms around Buffy's waist. "Why would he do that, B? It doesn't make sense."
She stumbled forward when Buffy wrenched out of her embrace, spinning to face her. "Yeah, that's what you said at the house, too. 'He's winning, B. He'll just sit back and watch you panic.' Remember that?" Buffy's voice rose on each word.
Faith flinched, taking a step back at the verbal assault. "B-" The single syllable echoed in her ears. She felt buffeted by Buffy's outburst.
"Enough, Buffy. This isn't Faith's fault." Joyce pulled Buffy away. "If the Mayor did this, we need to find out why. Blaming Faith isn't going to do that; nor will it save Willow. If you need something to do, focus your energies on finding answers."
Buffy nodded stiffly, stepping away from Joyce and dropping into a chair.
With the gang watching the byplay between mother and daughter, Faith slowly retreated. She was numb. Cold. Movements disjointed, Faith snuck from the library. When the doors slid closed behind her, Faith took off. Fueled by rage and blinded by tears, she sprinted across Sunnydale.
Sucking in deep, sobbing breaths, she staggered, falling to her knees in the wood at the edge of town. Each inhale hurt. Shards of broken dreams and her once-mending sense of self-worth ripped her throat. Buffy blamed her for Willow. She'd believed Faith's assurances about the Mayor leaving them alone. No one had been prepared for an attack. Because she told them it wouldn't happen.
Climbing to her feet, Faith closed her eyes, locking the emotions away. Her pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered except fixing her mistake.
The return trip into Sunnydale took longer. Faith avoided the more populated areas, gliding silently through alleys and down little used footpaths.
When she reached her destination, she paused for only a second before raising a hand and knocking firmly. Footsteps approached; the door opened slowly. Voice devoid of emotion, Faith said, "I need your help."