"Faith? What are you doing here?" Angel hid behind the door, sunlight streaming into the dark recesses of the Mansion.
Faith shoved past him, striding into the center of the vast space. "I need your help," she repeated.
"I got that the first time," Angel growled. He paced closer, arms crossed. "What makes you think I care enough to help you?" His eyes gleamed in the low light. "I remember the last time you came begging for my help. Remember that, Faith?"
She did. The memories threatened her emotional detachment. She could see – no, smell the blood covering her hands. Her stomach muscles spasmed. Faith gritted her teeth and shoved the memory down. Not now. She had work to do. "I remember, Angel. I'll always remember. You told me that, before I went to the Mayor. Maybe some time we can have that chat over again. Hell, I might even listen this time."
Angel didn't say anything.
"Listen, Willow's hurt. Maybe dying hurt," Faith continued bluntly. "I think one of the Mayor's goons shot her with a poisoned arrow."
"Is Buffy-" he started to ask.
Nearly snarling at his predictability, Faith cut him off. "Listen up. This ain't about B. Willow's the one with the hole in her shoulder."
Angel's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Got it. What do you need me to do?"
"I want to do a little search of the Mayor's office. See if he's got information about the poison, an antidote, I don't know." Faith suddenly realized she didn't know. She had no plan, Just a driving need to fix this.
"A little vague, don't you think?" Angel mocked. "Should we just take anything labeled 'Cure for Willow?'"
Emotional detachment disappeared. If she'd had a stake, Angel would have been dust. Faith could feel the smooth wood in her hand. She imagined the stake going in, Angel's eyes wide with surprise – maybe even a little fear. Breathing deeply, Faith clenched her fists and turned to face Angel. "That's it." Her voice shook despite all efforts to keep it level. "Red's down, could be for good. B and the gang are freaking. And while they're freaking, they aren't researching."
"So you want to help. Nice. Not what I expected from you, but nice." Angel walked over and sat down in an antique, throne-like chair. "We need a plan, though. If the Mayor went after Willow, he's probably going to be expecting someone to show up at his doorstep."
Angel's unspoken agreement to help steadied Faith a little. She was able to unclench her hands and start thinking. "Maybe. Maybe not. I didn't think he'd go after the gang. As far as he knows, they don't have a clue how to stop the Ascension. What if this wasn't really about killing Willow or setting a trap? What if he just wants to keep B and the troops out of the books for a while?"
"It's a thought." Angel nodded, stroking his chin. "Doesn't give us a plan, though. What do you want to do?"
Faith bounced on her toes. She didn't know...or did she? Smiling slowly, Faith replied, "We need to get you into the Mayor's office. He's got it rigged with cameras. You don't show up on those, do you?"
"Digital, not the old ones," Angel said.
"Saw a playback. Black and white. Grainy." She tilted her head. "That gonna work for you?"
He grinned, a hint of fang showing. "Perfect. What am I looking for?"
"That's where things get fuzzy," Faith admitted, grinning sheepishly. "The Mayor has a secret cabinet behind a bookcase. Lots of books, some potions and stuff. I figure if he did the deed, there'll be something there."
"You want me to break in to City Hall, dodge a few security guards, and look for something on an unnamed poison?" Angel didn't quite laugh, and Faith was glad. It did sound lame when he said it like that.
Shrugging, she wandered over to the French doors, dragging one of the heavy curtains back and peering out into the sunlight courtyard. "It's a hell of a lot better than watching the Scoobies freak and reading a ton more musty old books looking for information on an unnamed poison." Angel grunted. "Besides, I'll take care of the guards. Got something in mind to keep them busy while you're inside." She turned back around, meeting his eyes.
"Big risk, you getting so close to the Mayor." Angel watched her, and Faith worked to keep her face blank.
"Look at it this way, Big Guy. I get caught or go down, you get to take the goodies to B all by yourself. She could be so grateful, she forgets all about the brush off she gave you in the sewers." The words burned her throat. Despite the pressure squeezing her chest, Faith knew she was right. If something did happen, at least Angel would be there for Buffy.
"Hey, she's coming to," Oz said, interrupting the tense scene.
Willow's lashes fluttered, opening slowly. "Oooh. Did someone get the number of that bus? 'Cause my head…and my shoulder…" she tried to sit up.
Oz grabbed her, fresh blood staining the towel over the open wound. "Stay still. Please." His voice rose, cracking on the plea. For the first time anyone remembered, his cool composure was missing.
"Good…good idea," Willow whispered shakily. "Is the room spinning, or am I?"
"Willow," Giles began hesitantly, "do you remember what happened after we left the Professor?"
The red head shook back and forth slightly.
Clearing his throat, Giles explained the situation. "You were shot – with an arrow. We believe it was poisoned. Do you," he fiddled with his glasses, pushing them farther up the bridge of his nose, "feel anything odd, perhaps?"
It took a while for him to get his answer. Buffy wiped at the tears on her face. Willow had to be alright. Had to be.
"My shoulder's numb." The soft words were tinged with panic. Wide green eyes pleaded with Giles to help. "I can't feel my arm, Giles."
Oz tightened his embrace, whispering softly into Willow's ear. She calmed a little, but Buffy still saw the fear in her eyes.
"Giles, we can fix this, right?" She'd wanted to sound firm. The words came out shaky at best, though. Buffy cleared her throat and straightened to her full height. "Tell me where to look. I'll find what we need." This time her voice was sure.
"I have the book here, Buffy." Wesley came back, large book in hand. "The Council have records on all the known toxins, mystical or otherwise." He flicked a glance at the arrow still in Giles' hand. "Perhaps we could let Willow rest while we run some tests?"
Buffy nodded. Wes made sense, and he wasn't being all Lord of the Manor like usual. "Oz, you and Giles stay here." Oz didn't even look up; his attention was focused on Willow. Giles, though, looked ready to protest. "I need you here, Giles. For Willow." In case, she didn't add, Willow got worse.
Striding out of the library, Buffy stormed down the hallway into the science lab, the rest of the gang at her heels. The array of beakers and Bunsen burners seemed more overwhelming than normal. Where did they even start?
"Alright. Here's what we need to do," Wesley seemed to answer her unspoken question. "Xander, find something to scrape the blood from the arrow. Buffy, are there any Petrie dishes?"
A what? Buffy stared at a suddenly collected and confident Watcher.
Her obvious confusion didn't faze him. "A dish – with a lid – for the scrapings."
"Oh!" Buffy smiled. She was back in the game. "I'm on it." She didn't wait to hear the rest of Wesley's instructions. Dodging tables and stools, she headed for the supply cabinet. Locked. It didn't even take Slayer strength to wrench the door open. Riffling through the supplies, Buffy finally located one of the requested dishes. She trotted back to Wesley. "Here."
He took the dish with a small smile. "Excellent." Wesley nodded slightly. Using what looked like a single chop stick, he scraped at the blood-stained arrow. The drying blood flaked off, landing silently in the plastic circle of the Petrie dish. The collection plate slid under the microscope next to Wesley.
Buffy huddled close to Xander and Anya. "Anything?" She knew it was too early. It didn't matter. She had to ask, had to know. There was nothing to do except watch Wesley fiddle with the dials on the microscope and mumble to himself.
Wesley didn't answer her question.
Fidgeting, hands rubbing nervously against her legs, Buffy scanned the room. Xander had his arms wrapped tightly around Anya. Both of them stared at Wesley. Joyce sat on a lab table, idly paging through the Council's book on poisons. "Where's Faith?" The words were loud, seemingly out of place in the tense room.
Bile burned Buffy's throat when Joyce hopped off her perch and walked toward her. "Let's go out in the hall."
Buffy shook her head. No way. She wouldn't be able to watch Wesley turn the microscope knob and listen to the clock tick out there. Plus, Buffy had the sinking suspicion Joyce didn't have anything good to say.
"Now, Buffy. Xander or Anya can get us if things change." Joyce strode passed.
Head down, Buffy followed more slowly. The air in the hallway was cooler. Or, she thought with a grim internal smile, maybe it was just the frigid aura around Joyce. "What's up, Mom?"
"Faith's gone." The curt words hung in the air. Joyce watched her, arms folded.
"What?" Her mom had to be lying. Faith would leave. Not after…She'd promised…hadn't she? The temperature dropped further. Buffy shivered, the cold sending icy tentacles crawling under her skin.
Buffy jumped when a warm hand cupped her chin. "Buffy, after you yelled at her about the Mayor, she left."
The words didn't make sense. Buffy could hear them. She could even understand them individually. It was when she tried to piece the meanings together that everything went fuzzy. "Left?" She laughed, the sound forced out of a suddenly dry throat. "No way. I mean, she would have told me she needed some air. I would have noticed she was gone."
Joyce simply shook her head.
"Oh, God." Buffy's legs felt weak, shaky. Leaning against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut. "I have to go after her," she whispered mostly to herself. "I can't let her leave." Mixed with the need to find Faith was the heart-shattering thought that she was solely responsible for Faith running.
"No, not this time." Joyce was firm, even when Buffy's head came up, angry hazel eyes glaring. "Right now, you need to find a way to save Willow and all of Sunnydale. If," the flow of words halted for a minute then restarted, "when this is all over, you can go after Faith. Convince her you overreacted."
"Mom, I-" Buffy was too numb to cry. Too many emotions, too much pressure inside.
Pulling her into a tight hug, Joyce murmured against her hair, "We'll look together, Buffy. Right now, though," Buffy stiffened, knowing what was coming, "let's get back to work on the poison and the Ascension."