Watching Your Back (Part 7)
Previously ...
Faith has returned to Sunnydale, apparently intent on reconciliation with Buffy and her friends. Initially suspicious of the brunette slayer, the gang has slowly accepted her again. Faith's return could not have come at a better time: Buffy has begun to act erratically whilst Spike has been plotting to cause a flood of demons to come to Sunnydale.
During the desperate attempt to thwart Spike's plan, Buffy's erratic behaviour came to a culmination: as a consequence, Spike's plan succeeded and Riley Finn was killed. The cause of Buffy's strange actions was also revealed: she has been possessed by the first Slayer.
Now, as demons descend on Sunnydale, Angel has come to town to help the gang recover Buffy, whilst the secret goal of Spike's ploy has at last been revealed: Drusilla is back.
Chapter Nineteen
The mood in the Summers' living room was grim.
Giles laid the tray of tea things on the table and settled into the last remaining chair.
He looked around the room. Every one of them looked haggard and worn out. Tara and Willow were squashed up on the couch with Anya and Xander. The four of them had been at his apartment every night for the past week, trying to devise a cure for Buffy. The strain of too many spells in too short a time was clear on the faces of both wicca. Xander had helped out in every way he could: fetching ingredients, shuttling the exhausted witches back and forth between their house and Giles' own, even buying groceries and making sure people actually ate something. In typical Xander fashion, he had dubbed himself 'Responsibility Guy'.
Anya, meanwhile, had surprised them all. Usually self-absorbed to the point of being callous, she had volunteered her assistance with the spell research. Admittedly, her attention span tended to be short, and her knowledge of the black arts revolved mainly around hurting people rather than curing them, but it was the first time Giles could remember her actually acting like a part of the team, and not just an amused observer.
Joyce sat in the other easy chair, a grey, drawn expression on her face. They had explained Buffy's situation to her as carefully as possible, but she was obviously extremely worried about her daughter. The longer this went on, the more she would withdraw into herself. And it has already been ten days since Buffy was possessed.
On the second couch were the two people he was most worried about: Faith and Angel. The slayer and the vampire were patrolling together every night, and the level of demonic activity was growing more and more prominent. Not even Faith's slayer healing could keep up with the injuries she was sustaining, and Angel had never allowed himself the time to fully recover from the beating he had suffered a week earlier.
Feeling concern for Angel's well being was not something Giles had ever expected he would do. Not since Jenny had been killed, anyway. But he knew that the vampire was giving everything he could to help them, and could not help but feel a grudging respect.
"Thank you all for coming." He said at last, drawing weary gazes from the others. "I know how tired we all are, but we need to continue to keep each other informed of what is occurring. Joyce has kindly allowed us to use her home as a meeting place, since my own apartment is becoming rather inhospitable." Some of the rituals they had performed in trying to help Buffy had proven to have unpleasant side effects. The more harmless just left a stench like rotten eggs: one or two of the others actually made it unsafe to stay in the apartment for too long. It would need at least a day or two to air, and he had to admit that they had all but exhausted their magical options, anyway.
"Are we going to meet here, tonight?" Willow asked, her voice flat and tired.
"No." he shook his head, "We all need rest. I want everyone to take the night off." He glanced sharply at Faith and Angel, "That includes both of you. Understood?"
Faith looked ready to argue, but Angel nodded,
"I think you're right, Rupert." He said quietly, "We're getting too tired to be fully effective on patrol anymore. Two vampires got away from us last night."
"Only because that Jeneth came along -" Faith protested, actually managing to sit upright.
"And he fought the two of us to a standstill all by himself." The vampire reminded her, "One night won't drag the whole town into hell. And you need the rest."
"No college either, Faith." Giles added, drawing stunned looks from the whole room. "I've heard what you've been doing to yourself, and I won't allow it."
"But B's classes -" the brunette began.
"I have arranged for both of you to be excused from classes for a week." The ex-Watcher interjected, "Had I realised earlier what you were doing, I would have done so already."
The brunette looked stunned,
"But how?"
"I explained to the Dean that you were both good friends of Riley's." the Englishman said gently, "And he was quite willing to grant you both some special consideration. He even offered some counselling sessions, but I said that wouldn't be necessary."
A look of relief passed across the slayer's face, then was replaced by one of guilt. Giles knew she was thinking about Riley. He wanted to tell her that what happened wasn't her fault, but he doubted Faith would listen to him.
"Faith," to Giles' surprise it was Xander who spoke into the uncomfortable silence, "nobody blames you for what happened to Riley. Nobody blames you for anything that's happened since you came back. And we're really glad that you are here, now." He waggled his eyebrows comically, "You're our only hope, Obi-wan Kenobi."
"Damn." Faith smirked weakly, "if I'm our only hope we really are screwed." Despite her words there was an edge of humour in the slayer's voice; an edge that had been missing for several days.
Giles poured himself a cup of tea, using the action to conceal the smile of pride that was insistently creeping across his lips. The grim mood in the room had lightened already. The resilience of these young people never failed to impress him. Time after time they went beyond themselves and beyond all expectation. More times than he could count, they had found victory in the darkness.
He looked up, and his gaze met that of Joyce Summers'. She still looked tired and worn, but there was life in her eyes again. She had sensed it, too. And as he looked around the room at the expressions of the others, he saw in them the face of his grandfather when the old man spoke of Dunkirk. There was that same pride, that same bullish refusal to yield. That same obstinate determination to succeed.
And for the first time in days, Rupert Giles allowed himself to hope.
"Why are you still here, Angel?" Darla had appeared in his room within minutes of the sunset. "These people are beaten. Can't you see that?"
"You're never beaten until you give up." Angel answered from where he was lying on the bed. The speed with which the blonde vampire had arrived must mean she had her lair nearby. He kept meaning to seek it out, but patrolling had kept him far too busy. Now that he finally had a night free, she had turned up too early for him to go out and find her.
The blonde curled her lip scornfully,
"A pretty sentiment, Angellus. But that's all it is."
"Don't call me that."
"My apologies, Angel." Darla inclined her head with a condescending air. "But the fact remains that they are beaten. Your precious slayer is lost to them … and to you. If you see her again she will simply finish the job she started before." Her soft white hand stroked his arm, "I don't want to lose you to her again. Not like that."
He turned his head and stared at her thoughtfully.
"What do you want, Darla?"
She frowned,
"What do you mean?"
"You spend a lot of time telling me what you don't want." He sat up slowly in the bed, "But you've never said what it is that you want instead."
"I want you." She had that familiar, artful look of vulnerability. Her fingers touched his cheek gently. They were trembling slightly.
"No. You don't." he grabbed her hand in hers, pulled it away from his face, "You want Angellus."
"You are Angellus."
"Not any more." He shook his head, "Never again, Darla. You dream of the old days, don't you? The trail of blood we left across Europe? Those days are gone. Accept it."
The blonde's expression grew hard,
"You're fooling yourself, Angellus." She snapped, "You lost your soul once. It will happen again. Say you do recover your little slayer. What then? If you try to be with her, you'll destroy yourself. If you try to live alone, you'll go mad, in time. Either way, I'll be waiting for you. We will be together again."
"No. We won't." his voice was gentle, but it was firm. A large part of him did not want to hurt his sire, despite her nature. "I have hope, Darla. A prophecy that I will one day be human again. It may not happen in Buffy's lifetime. It may not even come to pass. But I have hope. And that is all I need to stop myself from ever becoming Angellus again."
"Hope?" Darla's tone was a mixture of disbelief and scorn, "You have hope? Open your eyes, Angellus. You've already lost here, whether you want to admit it or not. But there is still time to accept who you truly are. Come with me."
He shook his head silently.
"Fine." She snapped, "I tried to help you, but obviously you're too blind to see which is the winning team. Well, I'm not. Goodbye, Angellus."
She turned and stalked out of the room.
Only after the door had closed behind her did Angel close his eyes and rest his head back against the wall. He felt almost physically drained. The call of his blood had been so strong. At the end he hadn't even been able to trust his voice in answering her.
But now it was done. For better or worse, Darla had left him, forever.
Anya leaned against the frame of the door, giving her visitor a cool inspection.
"Xander isn't here." She said, at last.
"I know." Faith answered, looking uncomfortable. "I came to see you."
The ex-demoness didn't answer, just continued to watch the brunette slayer. At length, Faith spoke tentatively,
"Can I come in?"
"I guess." Anya replied shortly, stepping aside and allowing the slayer to enter.
Faith walked to the middle of the living room, looked at the couches, which were decorated in a floral print, and remained standing.
"Your folks have a nice place."
"It's okay." Anya conceded, "though if I'd known I was going to be stuck here I would have picked someone richer."
The slayer looked confused, half-smiled, then went back to confusion.
Anya snorted as she realised that Faith had no idea what she was.
"I'm a vengeance demon." She sighed, "I got stuck in human form when my power source was destroyed. These people aren't really my parents. They just think they are."
"Oh." Faith said. But her confused look slowly faded.
"So I assume this visit has a purpose?" Anya flopped into one of the couches.
"Yeah." Faith glanced away from her, then looked down. "You know how Xander and I haven't been training together in the last few days?"
Anya nodded,
"He said you were too busy. I guess with your week off college you want to start again?"
"Um. No." the slayer finally looked her in the eye, "the thing is, about a week ago I, uh, kissed Xander."
"What?" Anya gaped. Then she snapped her mouth closed. "I'll kill him."
"No!" Faith exclaimed, then wiped her hands on her thighs, "the kiss was totally my fault. And Xander put a stop to it straight away. He said he didn't want to lose you."
"I should think so." The ex-demoness muttered darkly, then glared at the brunette, "so why are you telling me this, you … you Jezebel!"
Faith looked bewildered for a second, then brushed her hair back with her hand,
"Look. I don't want to bust you guys up or anything like that. I just didn't want someone else to give you a messed-up story of what happened. You know how these things get around."
Anya picked a cushion off the couch and aggressively thumped it back into shape.
"So…" Faith continued slowly, "Like I said, I wanted you to know what really happened. That Xander didn't do anything wrong." She paused, "And I know how uncomfortable it could be for you guys if I stuck around, so after we get B back and deal with these Jeneth demons I'm going to leave town. I don't want to screw anything else up around here."
"Yes." Anya glanced up from the cushion, "I think that would be for the best."
"Yeah." Faith said in a small voice, already walking toward the front door, "Me too."
Darla stalked into the chamber, clutching the sentry vampire by the throat. The movement and conversation in the room gradually stilled as she walked across it, dragging the feebly struggling vampire along with her.
A leather-jacketed vampire with peroxide blonde hair was sprawled in one of the large chairs at the head of the room. He watched her approach with a sardonic smile, eyes flicking contemptuously across the other vampires in the room. Darla allowed herself a small smile. She recognised that look. William still despises the weak: whoever or whatever they may be.
"It's always nice to meet a pretty new face," the British vampire said conversationally, "but you appear to be abusing my hospitality, darlin'. Or at least, you're abusin' Max."
"He was rude." Darla flashed her most innocent smile, then released her captive. He scrambled away hurriedly, then rose to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
"Go back to watching the door, Max." Spike said dismissively, lighting a cigarette. Leaning back, he blew a long trail of smoke, "New in town, sweet-cakes?"
"I got in about a week ago." Darla smiled sweetly, "but I've visited before."
"A week?" Spike's tone was casual, but the look in his eyes suggested he was less than happy. "You must be very clever, darlin'. Someone should have spotted you days ago." This last comment was directed at the room as a whole, not to Darla herself.
"To be fair," Darla laced her fingers together, "your people have been distracted. Angel can be such a nuisance."
"Angel?" Spike sat up sharply, "What do you know about the big poof?"
Darla laughed throatily,
"Well, I know he's no poof." She licked her lips delicately as a ripple of laughter swept through the watching vampires. "But really, William. Is that any way to talk about family?"
Spike's eyes narrowed, then widened suddenly in recognition. He leapt to his feet with a yell and lifted her by the waist, whirling her in the air.
"Darla, luv!" he crowed in genuine pleasure, "It must be what, fifty years? I heard you were dead."
She grabbed his head and kissed him hard on the lips.
"I'm not that easy to get rid of." Darla purred, stroking the British vampire's chin. He let her slide down into his arms, returned her kiss with one of his own.
"This is great!" he enthused, "You, me and Dru, back together again!"
Darla frowned,
"Drusilla's here?"
"Yeah. She's running with the Jeneth these days." Spike grinned, "and you may have noticed we have a few of them in town. She'll be so pleased to see you!"
"Yes. Me too." Darla said quietly, then smiled and ran her hand through his dyed hair. "So, you got anyone to eat in this dump?"
"Aleister!" Spike snapped his fingers, "Fetch us a fresh one!" he turned back to Darla, leaving his arm curled around here, "Angel and his slayer friends do what they can to stop us hunting, but they can't be everywhere at once."
"With the Jeneth here you could crush them." Darla reminded him, "Why haven't you?"
Spike's lip curled,
"It's that blonde bitch, Buffy." He murmured softly, "I've fought her plenty of times before, but there's something different about her now. Even the Jeneth get carved up when they take her on. And she's not patrolling with the others. We're still trying to work out what the hell the slayerettes are cooking up."
"William, darling." Darla breathed, mischief curling her lips in a smile, "I have some news for you."
Chapter Twenty
Tor'Kol watched silently as the vampire known as Spike entered the room. After a week in the town of Sunnydale, he grew tired of the delay in discussing payment the Gem of Fey'R. Thus far, the vampire had proven reluctant to discuss concrete terms. Only Tor'Kol's sense of honour restrained his growing impatience.
There was something different about the vampire today, however. He walked with a swagger, and the expression on his face was extremely self-satisfied.
"I take it that you are ready to bargain." Tor'Kol observed, his voice a deep rumble.
"I am, old mate." Spike grinned, "I am indeed."
A blonde female vampire entered the room. Tor'Kol felt Drusilla stir beside him.
"Look Miss Edith," she whispered to her doll, "it's my grandmama."
"Drusilla." The blonde said coolly, taking a seat at the table.
The grandsire of Drusilla. Tor'Kol considered the newcomer thoughtfully. She was beautiful and elegant, but had an air of vulnerability. He briefly switched his gaze to her eyes. Intelligent, proud and not nearly so vulnerable as she pretends. This vampire would bear watching.
"Tor'Kol," Spike gestured to the blonde, "this is Darla. The sire of the sire of my sire." His voice registered amusement with his own formality, "She's brought me some interesting news."
"One of the slayers; Buffy; has been possessed by the spirit of the First Slayer," the blonde explained, smiling slightly, "the others are distracted by their desire to free her from this possession. Their erratic behaviour is not the clever stratagem you had feared: it is a sign of their desperation."
"Intriguing." Tor'Kol mused, "my people's records speak of the early slayers. They were powerful fighters, but primitive and barbaric. This made them relatively easy to distract."
Spike smirked,
"And that's exactly what we plan to do, mate. Distract her right into a trap. The others will have no option but to try and save her."
"And then you plan to crush them?"
"Not quite." Darla answered Tor'Kol's question with a deceptively sweet smile, "we plan to let Buffy do that for us."
"An interesting objective." Tor'Kol rumbled. Yes, this vampire bore very careful watching indeed. "How do you plan to accomplish this?"
"It's a two stage operation." Spike explained, "First, we have to catch the little blonde bitch. Your people are the fastest and strongest we have, Tor'Kol. We'll lead her into a prepared trap, then seal her in."
"A dangerous task." Tor'Kol observed, "there would almost certainly be casualties."
Spike nodded,
"But they'll be worth it for the Gem, won't they mate?"
The Jeneth nodded.
"They will indeed." He would willingly sacrifice every one of his Clan for the Gem. As I shall have to sacrifice Drusilla to this scheming vampire.
"So your people bait the trap to catch us a slayer." Spike resumed his explanation, "then we let the rest of the slayerettes know we've got her. They'll come running to help her -"
"That would be tactically unsound." Tor'Kol objected. "They must realise it will be a trap."
"Of course." Darla agreed, "But she is worth as much to them as the Gem of Fey'R is worth to you. And you would risk a trap to regain that, would you not?"
"They truly value this girl so highly?" the concept perplexed Tor'Kol, "the Gem of Fey'R will redeem my entire people, and bring great power to he who restores it. This slayer is just a girl: there will be another once she is gone."
"Trust me, mate." Spike grinned, "this lot'd storm hell itself if it meant a chance to save one of their own. They'll come, even knowing it is a trap."
Drusilla shifted in her chair. She had been nursing Miss Edith, but was now beginning to fidget impatiently. The dark-haired vampire grew bored very easily. Tor'Kol suppressed a sigh of irritation. He took great pleasure in Drusilla's body, and her dark, cunning imagination. But her child-like behaviour could be very trying.
"So they will enter our trap willingly." He rumbled, "How then do you propose to set them against this 'Buffy'?"
"She has already attacked one of them once." Darla's smile broadened and lost its sweetness, "She will do so again. When she does, the others will try to stop her."
"And she will consider them enemies for doing so." Tor'Kol laughed softly. There was a pleasing malice to the plan. "But can she truly destroy them all?"
"She doesn't have to." Spike leaned back in his chair with a smug look, "Whilst she's trying to kill the poof and anyone else who gets in her way, we'll be able to pick off her friends."
"We can kill them all." Drusilla smiled dreamily.
"Not all." The corner of Spike's mouth twisted slightly, "I want to turn the little redhead. Maybe let her eat that shy blonde of hers as a birthday treat."
"The redhead?" Darla asked, "Why her?".
"She and I have unfinished business from when I had that damn chip in my head." The British vampire growled, "And I could use her magical know-how, since I don't have anyone with any genuine ability at the moment."
A thoughtful expression crossed the blonde female's face for a moment. Tor'Kol suspected that she had inferred more from Spike's remarks than he himself. A sharp one, this Darla.
"And in return for our assistance with this trap, you will grant me the Gem of Fey'R?" he returned to the most important issue.
Spike nodded,
"Win, lose or draw, mate … you'll get the Gem."
David hovered nervously over Cordelia's desk. Their obscenely wealthy benefactor was coming by more and more regularly. Having Angel out of town for such a long time was making him anxious. Or at least, that was how she chose to explain his visits. She certainly hoped it wasn't because he wanted to see her. David was a nice guy, but really, she wasn't that desperate. Not yet, at least.
"So, um, how much longer do you think Angel will be in Sunnydale?" he asked as he paced across the office, nearly knocking a sheaf of papers on the floor. Cordelia grabbed them off the desk with a low growl of frustration. The last thing she wanted was to spend all day re-organising the filing.
"He said he would be there for as long as it took." She answered testily, for what felt like the fortieth time that week, "this sort of case can take a while to break, David."
"Oh." He nodded, as if in understanding. Cordelia sighed silently, knowing exactly what would come next, "What sort of case was it, again?"
"A personal one." She evaded the question in the same way she had every time before, "Angel isn't billing the company for it."
"I don't care about the money." He laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Cordelia suppressed a fleeting urge to throttle him. Money was something she could never imagine not caring about, regardless of how much she had. It's just not natural. Maybe David was really a demon. A sappy, inoffensive one. It would make a pretty clever cover.
"Wesley and Gunn should be here soon." She said brightly, after a furtive glance at the clock, "they were out hunting a Korith demon last night. I'm sure they'd love to tell you about it." She offered a silent apology to the two men.
"Really?" David's face brightened at the idea. "That would be great! Maybe I could use some of the details next time I'm the Dungeon Master."
"Maybe." Cordelia agreed absently, picking up a large pile of papers to take for filing.
"Because, you know, I used that vampire you killed last month for a game and the guys thought it was great!" David trailed after her as she walked across the office. Cordelia made vague 'listening noises' as she balanced the filing in the crook of her arm and opened the first filing cabinet. "I had to change it a bit to fit into a fantasy setting of course, and I gave him a plus three sword to make him a bit tougher, but otherwise it was almost like the real thing. Oh, except that he had these goblin minions -"
Cordelia shrieked, the pile of papers sliding out of her hands as a wave of pain hammered through her head. Images bombarded her with incredible rapidity and she sank to her knees amidst the scattered pages, clutching her temples. Somewhere, she was dimly aware of David asking her if she was okay, but there was no way she could form the words of a reply.
The telephone began to ring as the vision finally cleared, each shrill note feeling like an iron spike was being jabbed into her temples. Eyes almost shut, Cordelia staggered to her feet and walked unsteadily to the desk. Leaning against it, she took a series of deep breaths.
"Should I get that?" David said tentatively, pointing at the phone.
"No. It's okay." Cordelia winced as the phone shrilled again. Her mind was still replaying the images of the vision, trying to reinterpret them some other way. Any other way. It wasn't working.
"It's crazy." She muttered, reaching for the phone. There has to be another explanation. She put the handset to her ear and tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. "Angel Investigations. We help the helpless."
"Cor? Don't hang up."
I don't believe it. The brunette sighed and closed her eyes. One of these days she was going to have some words with the Powers That Be. They had entirely too warped a sense of humour.
"Cor? You there?"
She sighed again,
"Yeah, Harmony. I'm here."
"Nice place you and Red have got." Faith congratulated Tara, staring around the living room.
"Thanks." The blonde replied with a bright smile, "We're lucky we can afford it. If Willow didn't get all her tuition fees waived, we wouldn't be able to stay here."
"Wow." Faith quirked an eyebrow, "You're really coming out of your shell these days, blondie. What's with the new you?"
"Oh." Tara turned a delicate shade of pink and ducked her head, "I just … things are going really well with Willow. That's all."
"Relax." The brunette grinned, "I like the new you. She's got a bit of oomph. Not wonder Red fell for you. Where is Willow, anyway?"
"She's upstairs. Would you like me to get her?"
"Yeah. That'd be good. I need to speak to both of you."
Tara nodded and left the room. After a moment's hesitation, Faith sat gingerly in the window seat, trying to suppress the urge to fidget. A minute or two later the two wicca returned to the room and settled into the couch facing the slayer. At meetings, they normally held hands when sitting together. Here, they sat with their arms around each other's waists, their legs touching gently.
A small black cat trotted into the room after the two girls, stopped briefly on seeing the visitor, then leapt into the slayer's lap, curling quickly into a contented little ball.
"Hi Faith." Willow said placidly, smothering a yawn. "Miss Kitty seems to like you."
"Hey, Red." Faith paused, then smiled slightly.
"What's so funny?" the redhead asked in a curious tone. The slayer shook her head slightly,
"I'm just imagining the reaction if I'd turned up on your doorstep four weeks ago." She said wryly, "I don't think it would have been a yawn and a hello."
"Not unless you'd brought chocolate brownies." Willow agreed gravely, eliciting a hoarse chuckle from the slayer. "So what did you want to see us about?"
"You haven't had any luck finding a spell to help B, right?"
The two witches shook their heads in unison.
"No." Willow confirmed, "We're still looking for other spells, but everything we've tried so far has failed. We haven't had anything this difficult to solve since we finally switched Amy back from being a rat."
"Giles told me that B's soul was probably still in her body." The brunette decided not to ask about this 'Amy' business, "So it's not like when she and I switched places."
"That's right." Tara agreed, "We were able to create an item that could switch you back. But it was a lot different to this. We don't even know how the first slayer has taken over Buffy's body."
"I don't know a lot about this spell stuff," Faith confessed frankly, "but I was thinking that maybe we do know how she did it."
"What do you mean?" Willow asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Well, you guys cast that spell to help B kill Adam, right?" Faith explained diffidently, looking down at her hands, "and then you all had those dreams with the first slayer in them."
"Yes…" Willow said with a slight frown.
"Oh!" Tara exclaimed. "Of course! We should have seen it!"
"Seen what?" the redhead asked, a little crossly. Being the last person to solve a puzzle was not a situation she enjoyed.
"The first slayer visited the four of you. All of you who were in the spell." Tara said excitedly, "and then she possessed Buffy's body. We just assumed that she was using a new spell each time. But she wasn't. She was still using the spell of joining!"
"You mean it's still in effect?" the redhead frowned, then laughed in a kind of nervous surprise, "You know, it actually makes sense. Faith, you're a genius!"
"Hardly." The brunette protested, as a surprised blush rose in her cheeks, "I should have worked it out a long time ago. Y'see, when I first came back to town B and I had this weird 'connection' thing goin' on. It was like sometimes we could tell what each other was thinking or feeling. We spoke to G-man about it and he said it might be a hang-over from the spell of joining. I should've remembered that when all this stuff first happened with B."
"Well, you've thought of it now." Tara said gently, then turned to her lover. "Willow, you know more about the spell of joining than either of us. Could it still be in operation?"
"Pretty easily, now I think about it." Willow shook her head, "I should have thought of this before. When we cast the spell, Xander, Giles and I all gave our abilities to Buffy. We also called on the slayers to provide theirs. After Buffy beat Adam, the three of us ended the spell and took back our powers. I just assumed that the slayers had done the same. None of us thought at the time that they would object to what we were doing."
"But the first slayer did object … so she kept the spell going?" Faith was struggling to keep up.
"Just part of it." Willow nodded, "Giles, Xander and I aren't connected to Buffy anymore."
"So what now?" the slayer asked, "can you reverse the spell?"
Willow frowned,
"If only I'd known at the time." She murmured, "I could have done something then."
"There was no way you could know." Tara reminded the redhead, touching her lightly on the arm as she did so. "Is there anything we can do, now?"
"I'm not sure." Willow looked dismayed, "it's a very powerful spell. I don't think any of the usual rituals will work on it. If only we were still connected to Buffy."
"We are." Tara said quietly, then blushed as the other two girls looked at her in surprise and hope.
"How?" Faith asked, puzzled. She could see the pieces falling into place for Willow, the redhead's lips curling slightly into a smile. Both wicca turned to look at her, the same satisfied expression on their faces. Fleetingly, the slayer had the sensation of being a very small mouse in front of two hungry cats.
Willow laughed softly,
"We've got you, Faith."
The slayer leapt onto the back of the slowest demon, knocking it to the floor. The three others ran on, seeking only escape. Prey. Her lips curled into a smile of satisfaction, and she drove her stake into the creature's neck. It twitched and thrashed underneath her, but she stabbed again and again, offering it no chance of escape.
Clutching her bloodied stake, the slayer rose to her feet, sniffing the air. With a low growl, she set off down the street, tracking the smell of the fleeing demons. Within the space of a hundred yards, she caught sight of them again, heading into a disused warehouse.
Somewhere in her mind, a voice tried to whisper a warning. She ignored it. The soul of the slayer she had replaced was growing weak. Soon it would be gone completely, and nothing would distract her from the hunt.
She loped forward, entering the warehouse through a door the prey had left half-open. Within, she stalked slowly through the rows of rusted machinery. The other slayer's soul was frantic now, twisting and screaming within her. Had she no taste for the hunt at all?
A glimpse of the prey, and she dashed after it, plunging through a doorway scant yards behind the demon. There were two loud bangs a bare moment later, and she realised that she had been sealed inside the room. For a moment, she felt a sense of unease. Then the demon, which was locked in with her, gave a howl of surprise and fear.
The slayer smiled coldly. There would be time to find a way out later. Now was the time to hunt.
Angel looked up as Tara and Willow came into the Summers' living room. The two witches were the last to arrive. Like everyone else, they looked anxious and concerned. The vampire tried to keep his own features calm and composed. Despite his centuries of experience, it was not an easy job.
His fingers slipped into the pocket of his coat, touching the note that had been slipped under his door within minutes of sunset. It was written in Darla's sloping, feminine hand.
We have the blonde slayer. If you want her to live, you'll come for her before dawn.
William says to tell your friends 'the same place as last time'. They'll know where.
-- D.
It was a trap, of course. It was entirely possible; even probable; that Spike did not have Buffy at all. But Angel knew that none of them were willing to take the risk of assuming it was a bluff.
They were just waiting now for Giles and Joyce to bring in the tea things. At first, Angel had found this ritual irritating. But after a week, he had begun to appreciate it. There was an element of stability and security to it. A kind of measured patience that helped settle their nerves before the meeting. I wonder if Rupert realises that. The vampire suspected that the Englishman knew exactly what he was doing.
To his surprise, Willow and Tara went straight over to Faith and spoke to her quietly, the redhead handing the slayer a small object as they did so. He had thought that things were still cool between Faith and the two witches. It was good to see that they were starting to work well together.
Xander and Anya, on the other hand, seemed to have hit something of a rough patch. They weren't fighting, exactly, but there was definitely something there. At least on Anya's part. Xander appeared to be much the same as he always was.
The tea things made their appearance at last, and Angel cleared his throat.
"Thanks for coming so promptly." He said gravely, "As I told you on the phone, Spike claims to have captured Buffy." He had decided to make no mention of Darla. Except to Faith. The slayer deserved to know what had happened, "He offers no proof, and we have no reason to believe he is telling the truth."
"But we can't risk ignoring it." Xander clenched his fists in his lap, "I knew we shoulda staked the guy while he had that chip in him."
"We won't make that mistake again." Willow nodded sagely. "Chipped vampires get poofed. It's our new Scooby Gang policy." She realised everyone was looking at her and smiled apologetically, "Sorry. I had a mocha this afternoon. It hasn't worn off yet."
"So what we've got is probably a lie, and definitely a trap." Faith shrugged, "I say we bust it wide open. If B is there, we get her out. If not, we settle for pounding some vamps."
"I think we should assume that the Jeneth will also be present." Giles interrupted gently, "In quite some force, I should imagine."
"I know that, G-man." Faith looked frustrated, "but we have to go. We all know that."
"Yeah. What she said." Xander nodded his agreement, "We don't have a choice."
"We need a plan." Giles insisted, "Something to give us an unexpected edge."
"I agree." Tara nodded. There was a moment of surprised silence. The blonde spoke only rarely in their meetings. "I think we should call in some favours."
"Favours?" Angel asked. One thing he knew: when Tara did speak, it was usually worth hearing.
"Favours." She nodded, "There are a lot of people who owe you, or who are friends of yours. People who know what really goes on in Sunnydale. We should ask them to help."
"It makes sense." Anya agreed. "Spike invited his friends. Why shouldn't we?"
"I can call Wesley and Gunn." Angel said thoughtfully, "they could be here by midnight."
"Katie." Faith suggested, meeting his surprised look with a level one of her own, "She'll come, Angel. Leave it to me."
"Amy." Willow snapped her fingers, "she moved out of town, but I have her number."
"I thought she didn't want anything to do with magic, anymore?" Tara objected softly.
"I can see being a rat for two years putting anyone off." Xander agreed.
"She did give it up." Willow admitted, "but this is Buffy. Amy will help."
"Jonathon." Giles offered. He frowned at the incredulous looks directed his way by Willow, Anya and Xander, "May I remind you that we were all proud owners of his swimsuit calendar?"
"Who's Jonathon?" Faith asked curiously.
"Don't ask." Xander said nervously, "And I did not have his swimsuit calendar."
"Hansard." Tara added.
"What?" Willow squeaked. The others exchanged blank looks.
"Who are these people?" Faith complained.
"Hansard was that … spy." The redhead answered, frowning at Tara.
"Don't worry, Willow." The blonde smiled gently, "I can deal with him. I know something he'll be willing to trade for."
"I think we should get to work contacting these people immediately." Angel decided it was time to get people on track again. "If you think of anyone else, call them too. But you should only contact people who can get here before two a.m. We'll all meet here then, agreed?"
The others nodded their consent and quickly began leaving. As Faith rose to leave, Angel put his hand on her arm,
"Could I talk to you for a moment?"
The brunette nodded, and they left together, heading for Angel's motel room.
"What's the deal?" the slayer asked curiously.
"I could ask the same of you," he replied, "You and Willow seem to be quite friendly all of a sudden. What was that she gave you?"
"Something that might help B." Faith replied, "If she really is there."
Angel nodded, then sighed. I can't put this off any longer.
"When we go into this trap." He said quietly, "Darla may be there."
"She likes you that much?"
"What?" he frowned in confusion, then realised that Faith had misunderstood, "Uh, no. If she is there, it won't be on our side."
"Oh." Faith considered this silently for a few seconds, "Jesus, Angel. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He shook his head, "I should have expected this to happen. I let my instincts blind me."
"Instincts?"
"Darla was my sire." He explained uncomfortably, "That's a powerful bond. I let it influence me."
"So…" Faith stopped and looked at him, "If she is there … what do you want me to do?"
He swallowed. Even now, the words were hard to say,
"I want you to treat her exactly like you would any other vampire."
Chapter Twenty One
"Why did I agree to this?" Kate Lockley growled to herself in frustration, agitatedly drumming her fingers on the car's steering wheel.
Gunn didn't answer. Kate wasn't surprised. The young man had barely said a word since she picked him and Wesley up from Angel's office. Of course, even his stoic silence was better than Wesley's incessant chatter. At least the Englishman had dozed off in the back seat. Though of course, he would have to snore.
It was the soft half-grunt, half-whistle of the sleeping man's snores that was working on her nerves at the moment. It was bad enough that she was driving to Sunnydale in the middle of the night to save some girl she'd barely met and hadn't liked, let alone that she was doing so at the request of an escaped felon. But why'd I have to get lumbered with Abbot and Costello as well?
She swung the car off the highway, taking the exit for the small town of Renfield.
"What was the address?" she flicked a glance at Gunn in the rear-view mirror as he dug out the scrap of paper. He was quite handsome, in a scruffy kind of way. Pity he's so damn surly.
"54 Yossarian." Gunn read out, "Like the guy from Catch-22."
"You've read it?" she asked, surprised and then embarrassed at her surprise.
He shook his head,
"Saw the movie. Art Garfunkel is the man."
"Art Garfunkel." The detective raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah. I love the sixties. That was real music."
Kate turned into Yossarian and drew to a stop outside number fifty-four.
"I'll be right back." She said, climbing out of the car. Gunn grunted an acknowledgment.
The girl who answered her knock was shyly pretty, and dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans.
"Amy?" Kate hazarded.
"Yeah." The girl nodded, her expression unenthusiastic. "You're one of Willow's friends?"
"Actually, I don't know Willow." Kate confessed, "I uh, work with Angel. He's a friend of Willow's. I was asked to pick you up."
"Oh. Okay." Amy closed and locked the door behind her. They headed back toward the car. "So what's your deal? Are you a vampire slayer?"
"I'm a detective with the LAPD." Kate half-smiled, "hunting monsters is just something I stumbled into. What about you?"
"I'm a witch."
Kate sighed silently. There were definitely times when it was best not to ask any questions.
"What have you done?"
Both Willow and Tara started violently at the sudden question, then slowly recovered themselves.
"Greetings, Elder." the blonde replied as calmly as she could, "I am afraid you will have to lower your wards. I no longer have the sight."
Hansard seemed to appear out of thin air, eliciting a squeak and then a suspicious glare from the redhead.
"What have you done?" he repeated, his toneless voice for once tainted with emotion: a mix of anger and wonder.
"I have been gifted with a soul." Tara answered simply, "The ritual is difficult, but all our people could undergo it, in time. That is, if they abandon their isolation."
"What do you mean?" Hansard asked the question reluctantly. It seemed impossible that the girl could have succeeded where his people had always failed. But the evidence was there before his eyes.
"The ritual uses both human and soulless magic." The redhead interjected, suddenly clutching the blonde's hand. "And it requires a bond between the human and soulless who perform it."
"A bond?" he inquired suspiciously.
The girls nodded in unison.
"The process is dangerous and painful." Willow answered, "It takes a lot to overcome that. I was only able to bear it because I love Tara."
"You called me here merely to claim that everything our lore teaches us is wrong?" he demanded of the blonde, "to revel in blasphemy?"
"No." Tara shook her head, "I called you here to tell you that our people can become human, if they learn to embrace humanity. And to offer you the details of the ritual, in exchange for your services."
Every lesson Hansard had ever learned told him to refuse the offer. To chasten the wayward child of his people. And yet the fact remained that she was no longer one of them. He stood in doubt for a long time, then finally spoke.
"What service do you require?"
Darla sensed Spike climb up onto the rafter behind her. They were perched high in the roof of the warehouse, waiting for the arrival of Angel and his friends.
"How's our guest?" she asked quietly, her lips barely moving.
"Still makin' a racket." The British vampire smelled of cigarette smoke, "it's a good job we reinforced those walls. She'd have been out of there by now if we hadn't."
"Good." The blonde smiled slightly, "With all that noise, they'll head straight to her."
"Right where we want them." Spike agreed, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her neck. Darla shot him an amused glance,
"Does your little filly know you're doing that?"
"Harmony?" he chuckled unpleasantly, "she ain't here, pet. Little cow's off somewhere, sulking."
"And Drusilla?"
He contrived to look puzzled,
"Tor'Kol left her behind. Besides, Dru and I aren't together, luv. You know that."
Darla laughed huskily,
"Don't try that line with me, William. I know you too well."
He shrugged casually, his lean, narrow body relaxed despite their precarious location.
"Once Tor'Kol and his mob are gone, I might see what my chances are." He admitted, "You jealous, luv?"
"Maybe." Darla gave him a coy smile. He laughed softly. Then he stiffened,
"Here they come."
Moments later, the warehouse door swung open below them. Angel was the first inside, then the brunette slayer. Others followed: the group moving together in the direction of the captured slayer.
"Is it just me, or are there more of them than we expected?" she asked quietly.
"It's not just you." Spike frowned, "I don't even recognise most of these jokers."
"Change of plans?"
He nodded,
"We grab the little redhead and we split." He murmured, "Leave Tor'Kol to handle the rough stuff. He can earn his precious Gem the hard way."
"Does that Hansard guy creep you out as much as he does me?" Faith growled softly to Angel as they moved through the warehouse.
"He is unsettling." The vampire conceded, "but effective."
"Yeah." The brunette conceded, her tone making it evident that she still disliked the spy. "Makes a nice change to be springing the ambush for once."
"Don't underestimate Spike." Angel cautioned her, "he may have surprises that Hansard didn't spot."
"I hope not." Faith muttered, "It's bad enough already … vamps in the rafters and Jeneth on the ground. Lots of 'em, too. We woulda got butchered if we'd just walked in here."
"Maybe." Angel quirked an eyebrow, "Though we've come through worse."
"Yeah? When?"
The vampire had no ready answer to that.
"Well I guess they weren't lying about having B." Faith noted. "She doesn't sound too happy about it, neither." Even from halfway across the warehouse, they could hear the furious attempts of the slayer to break free of her prison.
"They'll expect us to go straight for her." Angel remarked.
"So let's not disappoint them." The slayer suggested with a small grin.
"Now." Spike whispered, just loud enough that Darla could hear him.
As he did, small explosive charges blew the lock and hinges of the door imprisoning the slayer. The door spun slowly outward, then crashed to the ground.
For a second, the people on the warehouse floor were frozen by surprise.
Then Buffy burst through the doorway, hurtling toward Angel with a stake raised to strike.
Darla saw the brunette slayer try to intercept the blonde, and be thrown aside almost instantly, crashing into a heavy wooden crate.
Angel and Buffy rolled across the floor, the vampire struggling desperately against the furious slayer.
As they did, the Jeneth burst out of hiding, swarming toward the humans. Vampires also began to drop from the ceiling. Spike looked ready to follow them, but the blonde vampire gripped his arm in gentle restraint. Best to see if they have any more surprises for us.
Three vampires falling directly toward the humans struck a magical barrier and exploded in mid-air, dust scattering in all directions. A fourth landed safely some distance to one side of the humans, but a blonde woman in a leather jacket promptly put a crossbow bolt through its heart.
With a roar, the Jeneth rushed out of hiding. By then, six of the humans had formed a small circle of hands, each member facing outward. Sheets of white flame leapt out from them, incinerating two Jeneth in an instant. Elsewhere, the brunette slayer was on her feet again, fighting one of the demons, while the Watcher and three other men dragged down a fourth Jeneth between them.
"Shit." Spike cursed vehemently. "They were ready for us."
Darla nodded,
"Someone spilled the plan to them. Are you sure your Harmony is just off sulking?"
"Harm didn't even know what the plan was." Spike snorted, "They tumbled us some other way, pet." He shot her a suspicious look, "You've always been sweet on the poof…"
Darla's hand lashed out, her nails sinking into the flesh of Spike's neck.
"Dear William," she breathed quietly, her eyes cold, "I want Angel dead as much as you. Believe that. And never doubt me again."
"Okay, luv." The British vampire grinned weakly, "I get the message."
Darla smiled sweetly and kissed his forehead,
"You always were a good child, Spike." She used his nickname for the first time, "Now. Let's see about that little redhead of yours."
Faith leapt up, wrapping her legs around the Jeneth's waist, and plunged her knife into its back: twice, three times, four. The demon tried to rake at her with its claws, but she fended with her elbows and stabbed it again. She no longer had any doubts about using the blade. It had been a symbol of the violence between her and Buffy. There was something fitting about using it to help save the blonde slayer. A sense of redemption.
The demon toppled, and she jumped clear, landing on her feet. To her left, Willow and the other occult reinforcements lashed out with fire and light, holding the demons and vampires alike back with the force of their magic.
Kate and Gunn dragged a vampire to the ground, the man pinning it while the detective slammed a stake into its heart. A Jeneth reeled past, Wesley draped inelegantly over its head, pounding at the demon with a small club. Giles rushed in, targetting the distracted creature's knees.
Angel. The brunette spun in a quick circle, spotting the vampire off to one side of the main struggle, still trying to fend off the determined attack of the blonde slayer. Faith dashed over, grabbing Buffy by the back of her shirt and hauling her bodily off the vampire.
"Get in there!" she yelled at Angel, jerking her head at the melee. "She won't be able to pick you out so easily, then."
The vampire nodded and plunged into the fight. As he did, Faith swung Buffy in the opposite direction, throwing the blonde against some machinery. Hurriedly, the brunette fumbled in her pockets for the talisman Willow had given her.
Buffy recovered quickly. Too quickly. The brunette's fingers had only just clasped around the Talisman when a forearm smashed into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. Faith rolled blindly, hoping to give herself a little space, but Buffy was on top of her immediately, pinning her shoulders to the ground.
The blonde raised her stake, a snarl of rage twisting her face. Unconsciously, Faith whispered an apology to her, knowing she had failed.
And then Xander slammed into the blonde slayer, knocking her from Faith's chest.
The descending stake slashed across Xander's back and shoulder, tearing the flesh in a long, shallow groove. Faith heard him scream in pain, but was already on her feet, lunging toward Buffy as the blonde raised her stake, ready to finish the boy off.
The stake was already falling when Faith pressed the Talisman's to Buffy's skin.
For the second time, her prey was snatched away from her. She felt the stake catch the newcomer's flesh; smelled his blood as it seeped from the wound. He was human, but she didn't care. Didn't care what any of them were. She would kill them all. They were all prey.
She stabbed down with the stake.
And something touched her forehead. It was cold like ice, sending a spasm through her body. The stake fell from nerveless fingers. She felt herself sink into a white mist.
The slayer was there: the one whose body she wore. She could sense the flickering light of the girl's soul. It did not matter. The slayer was too weak to challenge her. And then she sensed another who was there. One who seemed like a shadow of herself.
The newcomer appeared through the mist. A dark-haired girl, she carried a bloody knife in her hand. The brunette's eyes were old and tired, but her body was young and strong.
"Name's Faith." The girl with the knife said quietly, "the Vampire Slayer."
"No. There is only one." She spoke with Buffy's voice, the blonde girl stepping out of the mist to face the brunette. Dimly, she sensed the slow crawl of time in the real world. The stake had barely left her fingers, was falling eternally through the air.
"Not anymore." Faith shook her head, "Things change. Your time is past. You have to go, now."
"All time is my time. I am eternal."
"No. We are eternal." The brunette tilted her head to one side, her eyes only on the blonde, never on the shadowy figure that crouched behind her. "You in there, B? Time to show this has-been who the real slayer is."
She felt the soul of the blonde girl twist in her mind, struggling to break free.
"Faith." The gently whisper slipped from Buffy's lips before she could prevent it. Then the blonde's expression hardened as she regained control. "Buffy is gone. She was weak and soft. The slayer will hunt as she should, again. Strong and alone."
The brunette laughed,
"You're never goin' to be alone again, grandma." Her tone was mocking, "there are two of us, now. Always will be."
The stake somersaulted in mid-air, still two feet from the ground.
"I'll kill you." She hissed in Buffy's voice.
"Do it." The brunette shrugged, "We all die sometime. And another slayer will be called to replace me, anyway. You'll never be rid of us."
"Then I will take you as well. You are as weak as her."
"You can try." Faith answered levelly, "but I don't think you can take us both at once. Hell, you only beat B because she didn't know she was in a fight. And she ain't out of it yet. Personally, I think she'll beat you. Angel thinks so too. And Giles. And her mom. Red. Xander. They all believe in her. And that's why she'll win. Because we're there for her. But you're all alone."
The stake spun again in the air, now less than six inches from the ground. As it did, the blonde's soul flared in her mind, and slipped from her grasp.
"No." the word was torn from her own throat, guttural and primitive.
"Yes." Buffy and Faith said as one, each turning to face her. The blonde's hand curled around the brunette's, gripping it just as it gripped the knife. "Your time is done."
The stake's tip struck the floor, the point snapping from the impact.
And the blonde and brunette plunged the blade into her, their hands still locked on the hilt. Together.
The stake's tip struck the floor, the point snapping from the impact.
And the blonde and the brunette surged to their feet, a howl of victory bursting from Faith.
Battle turned to rout. The slayers were unstoppable, whirling through the fight without pause. No-one; vampire or demon; could stand against them. Within minutes, the enemy was in full retreat, overwhelmed by the sudden restoration of both slayers.
The humans slowly gathered themselves. Most of them had injuries of some sort, even if they were just bruises or scrapes. Xander was the most seriously hurt: he still lay on his side, his head cradled in Anya's lap. The ex-demoness was stroking his hair gently, a sombre expression on her face.
"How do you feel?" Giles was the first to ask the question of Buffy. His jacket was torn, and his cheek was bloody from a broad graze, but he seemed otherwise unhurt.
In answer, the blonde slayer simply hugged him.
"I love you guys." She mumbled into his chest, feeling tears on her cheek.
"There, there." Giles patted her gently on the back, "It's good to have you back."
"It's good to be back." The blonde smiled and stepped back, wiping her eyes. As she did, she looked around, startled to see so many faces. "Amy!" she exclaimed, then impulsively hugged the other girl, "when did you come back to town?"
"Just tonight." Amy answered softly, "Willow called me and asked me to lend a hand."
Carried away with the moment, Buffy hugged each of the people who had come to help her. Willow returned the hug enthusiastically, while Jonathon turned bright red and lost the power of speech for several minutes afterward. Even those Buffy barely knew were not excepted.
"I have no idea who you are." She told Gunn frankly when he tried to shake her hand instead, "but everybody else has had to be hugged by a smelly, dirty vampire slayer tonight, so you do to." The black man laughed and accepted his fate.
Eventually, even Xander had been given a very careful hug of gratitude, and only Faith and Angel remained.
"Thanks." The blonde said to the brunette slayer, coming to stand in front of her. "For everything."
"No sweat, B." Faith shifted uncomfortably, "Could we skip the hugging thing? It's bad for my image."
"Not a chance." Buffy embraced the other girl resolutely. After a moment's hesitation, the brunette tentatively hugged her back.
"B…" Faith whispered softly, "Riley…"
"I know." Buffy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she said the words. She remembered how he had looked when she found him. He had looked so different that for a moment she had not realised who he was. "It wasn't your fault." She would mourn later. Now was a time to concentrate on the good things.
And finally, she came to Angel. Their hug was stiff and uncomfortable, but afterward she was able to smile at him,
"It's nice to know you're still there to help me."
"Always."
Willow walked down the hospital hallway to the soft drink machine. They had brought Xander there after the fight at the warehouse. His cut would need stitches, but obviously wasn't too serious, since he was already making weak jokes about receiving an invalid's pension.
Humming softly, she surveyed her choices. She was tired, but knew she'd be best to avoid anything with caffeine: the night's events had left her wound up already. Deciding on root beer, she tried to put a dollar into the machine. However, the note was a little old and would not feed properly.
"Allow me." A passing blonde woman said gently, taking the dollar and smoothing it carefully. The note slid easily into the machine. A can of root beer clunked into the tray.
"Thanks." Willow smiled at the blonde. She bent to take the can. As she did, she happened to look to her left, and saw Spike leaning casually against the wall, smirking at her.
Slowly, her heart hammering, the witch straightened, still clutching the can in her hand.
"I think you might want to leave." She said quietly to the woman, her eyes still on Spike, "that guy over there looks like he might be a … mugger."
"Oh, I can take care myself." The woman answered calmly.
Willow froze. There was something disturbing about the woman's tone. The redhead turned slowly to look at the blonde.
"You seem familiar." The redhead confessed, "And not in a good way."
When Tara came looking for her a few minutes later, she found only the burst can of root beer, lying in a puddle on the floor.
"'Ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go." Spike chanted as he drove at breakneck speeds through the dark streets of Sunnydale. He was feeling quite pleased with the night's events, and a good soccer song seemed the right way to express that. It was true that the ambush had turned into something of a disaster, which was disappointing. I really thought we'd get one of the slayers, or at least the big poof. But he refused to let that trouble him. Any damage the Jeneth might have done would have merely been icing on the cake. They'd failed, but he could live without icing. I'll give Tor'Kol the Gem, then he and his can piss off.
That would leave Drusilla all alone, and he would be there to fill the void. They would be whole again. Still chanting under his breath, the vampire checked the back seat in the rear-view mirror. The girl was still unconscious, her head in Darla's lap. Every few seconds the blonde would touch the wounds in the girl's neck, then lick a thin layer of blood from her fingertips.
Spike's smile broadened. The only thing he needed to make Drusilla come back to him was power. And the little redhead was the key to all the power he needed.
