Episode 6.15
Waiting
By Karen

He took his frustrations out on the bag in front of him, hitting it with a staccato rhythm that would shame a college-level marching band. Each hit reverberated in his mind like the tap of a drumstick on a marching snare. Each beat melded itself with a word in his mind, a phrase that repeated itself over and over again. Life. Wasn't. Fair.

Of course he knew that. But once upon a time, he hadn't. Once upon a time, he had been the corn-fed Iowa boy Buffy and her friends had thought him to be. He had been the kind to say "Aw shucks," go to church every Sunday, and help Pa with the harvest. He actually grew up on a freaking farm. Back then, life had been fair. Those that worked for it got the best grades, the captain of the football team, and the best girls. That had been him, the local legend.

And then he got recruited, and the 'fair life' he had been living had been shot not only full of bullets, but straight to hell. But he had worked his ass off, harder than most of the others, and when he had been chosen for the special ops program, he had been ecstatic. Yet again, life was fair, he was being rewarded for his good deeds. Until he got shot full of drugs that altered his genetic makeup just slightly, made him sterile, and he got introduced to hell on earth-the hellmouth.

Then he met the girl of his dreams, and things looked up, higher than it had when he was king of his hometown, this was different.

The only problem was, he hadn't even been in hers. Maybe her nightmares, though.

She had only been pretending with him, trying to convince herself she loved him, when she didn't, couldn't, because her dreams were filled with an ancient beast; she called his name in sleep after they had sex sometimes, but he pretended to be asleep as she called for his cold arms to hold her, to never leave her.

So he had tried to forget her, find another to pretend with, as she had with him. He had gone to South America, and he had met Sam, and Sam became the woman he forced himself to see in his dreams, and yet again, life seemed fairer than it had been. Sam had loved him, and he thought he loved Sam. She was supposed to be his everything. They had even talked about and even tried to have children even though their living situation wasn't the safest. They both wanted a large family, wanted a family while they were young so they could spend the most time with their children.

But then reality reared its ugly head. Those God damned drugs Walsh had given him had made him sterile. But that was fine, they'd adopt. Just as long as they were together, it didn't matter. That's what he convinced himself of. As long as he had someone to fill the void in his heart, he'd be fine.

But then he and Sam had had an argument, and she went out by herself. After a while, he raced after her, but it was too late. He found a vampire attached to her neck, and he froze as his imaginary world crashed down around him.

"A message from Angelus. You touched his mate, so now he kills yours."

The vampire hadn't lived to tell Angelus that his message had been delivered, but the fact that Angelus was back could mean only one thing. Buffy was back with Angel, and they had consummated their love yet again, and knowingly she released Angelus onto the unsuspecting world. He hated her for that. He hated her for willingly giving her body to some animal, while he had to coax her every time while they were together.

His commanding officer ordered that he take some time off, so he took her body home to her parents, who didn't even know what she did for a living. And they buried her, and her family comforted him, while he pretended to mourn their daughter, while in truth he mourned the loss of his safe haven. But when he had tried to go back to South America, they wouldn't let him. They said he wasn't ready to come back to duty. So he beat the shit out of some demons, got piss drunk and spent a half hour yelling profanities outside his commanding officer's barracks.

Safe to say he hadn't been honorably discharged.

But instead of going back to the world he knew he couldn't, instead of going back to Iowa, and finding one of the girls he had gone to high school with, and pretending to fall in love with her, and settling down with her and have a ton of kids and take over his father's farm, he came here. He came here for one reason, and one reason only. Angelus.

He had convinced a few of the younger recruits to join him, forging orders of change of base, and he set up base here, in LA, with stolen technology and stolen power. And now he was just biding his time.

But the one thing that was supposed to distract him from everything until the time was right- the demons-were strangely absent. They had found the remains of a huge battle in the alley behind an old hotel, but by the extent of the destruction, there should be ten times the demons. Sure, there were vampire nests, and a few demonic clans that had settled into the city. But the horde of demons the traffic cameras had caught on tape were gone.

"Did. They. Think. I. Wasn't. Watching. Them?" he asked himself, his attacks punctuating every word. Just when they were starting to make headway in this damned town, just when he thought he was wrong, that Buffy wasn't with that bastard, that she was somewhere else, wishing she hadn't let him go, she walked onto the scene as if on cue.

She was here, and she was with him.

The thought made him sick.

He wanted to hate her with a passion, he wanted to strangle her for what she did to him, he wanted to be able to kill her for what she did. He wanted to blame her for Sam's death, and the death of his happiness, but he knew she wasn't to blame. And he couldn't kill her for not loving him, because deep down, he knew she couldn't help it. That vampire had put her under his thrall, had tainted her from loving a human being, from loving him. How could he compare to a vampire that had over 200 years of experience fucking around with virgins? Oh, yeah, he'd done his research on Angelus. He knew his likes and dislikes, and he would use that knowledge to his advantage. No, he couldn't kill her for what she had done to him.

But he could kill him.

Faith was in her room, trying to go through the training manuals Buffy had given her. Files and papers lay all over the bed as she tried to fight her way through one of the folders. The thought that B trusted her over Angel to get these girls trained surprised her. But it also gave her a funny feeling inside; no one had ever really trusted her before.

Then a knock sounded on her door. She looked up from the technical language, "Come in," she called.

Jade opened the door, looking uncomfortable. Faith put the folders aside, sitting up straighter, "What's wrong, Jade?" she asked,

"I was, well, wondering if you happened to have any…girl type things," she said slowly, dragging it out.

Faith stared at her a moment before she understood. "Oh, uh, yeah. I nicked some a few weeks back, figuring that the boys wouldn't want to be knowing about shit like that," she said, climbing off the bed, "They're in the bathroom, I'll get them."

"Just a few. It's not as heavy as it usually is. I, uh, probably should have asked you earlier, I…kinda knew this week would be the one," she said as Faith went into the bathroom.

Coming back out of the bathroom, Faith looked at Jade oddly, "You've been with us for over two months, Jade," she said. "Why is this the first time…?"

"Yeah, I know. I, uh, missed last month's. I wasn't exactly eating right for awhile there, I had lost a lot of weight," she explained, but Faith wouldn't let it slide. "But I've gained a few pounds since living with you guys, somehow." She hugged her middle as she left, the feminine products in the pouch of the oversized sweatshirt she tended to wear. Faith stared after her, her mind jumping to conclusions about the fifteen year old that reminded her so much of herself when she had been that age. And that was what scared her most.

He stood there, staring out the window, as his secretary entered, closing the door behind him. He waited for the man to speak. He was a patient man, adept at playing the game of waiting. He had been waiting a very long time. And if he had to keep waiting, then that was fine.

"The surveillance feed you picked up, sir, it's government issued machinery, but there is no government sanctioned troops in the area," his secretary finally said.

"Then where's the feed going to?"

"There is a shoddily set up base three blocks from the hotel."

"But you said-" he started patiently, knowing his secretary would fill in the gaps if he gave him just a bit of prodding.

"They're not supposed to be here, sir. They were supposed to have pulled out three weeks ago. The squadron is being headed by a man named Riley Finn, and he was discharged fifteen months ago. It seems that he has forged papers to keep the men here."

"What are his plans, I wonder?" he asked.

"From what we could tell, he's set on revenge. It seems that Angelus killed his wife two years ago, and he is bent on revenge." His secretary was silent a moment, before hesitating to add, "Mr. Allen, sir, if this Finn is set on killing Angelus, then maybe he will-"

"Call Mr. Finn's people. I think the two of us need to sit down and chat," he said.

"Yes, sir," his secretary left.

Alone, Mr. Allen shook his head. He was fine with waiting. He had been waiting such a long time, a few more months wouldn't hurt any. But he didn't like it when young upstarts, in a hurry, impatient, came in and ruined his carefully laid plans.

He sighed, he missed Christopher, his muscle. Every man in power needs muscle, he knew that well. But after Christopher had failed him, he didn't mind waiting, but he hated it when someone failed him. He would wait for Christopher to plead for death before he gave it to him.

He lifted the report his secretary had left him on his desk, flipping through the information they had found on Finn. He sighed in dismay. Such a promising career, and he threw it all away because he was reckless, impatient. He could go so far in military politics.

But his rashness could be put to use, Mr. Allen thought. If he could keep Angel and his friends busy, then they wouldn't be able to ruin his plans, wouldn't be able to stop him. That was what he hated most, when carefully laid plans were dashed because someone was brash, rude.

"How long has he been in there?" Greg asked, sitting at the consoles of the cameras they had placed on the third floor.

"Couple hours," his buddy told him as he flipped through an adult magazine, sitting in front of the monitors for the cameras on the second floor.

"What's eating him?" Frank asked, making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was supposed to be watching the first floor cameras.

"Did you see the way he reacted when that blonde showed up? Looked like he might blow a gasket," Greg said as he leaned back in his chair. "Damn, nothing happens on the third floor, they don't even have any habitable rooms in the third floor," he grumbled. "Brad, wanna trade?"

"Like hell I do," he said, turning the page of his magazine. "You know he'll flip if we 'deviate from the schedule,'" he pitched his voice higher, mocking the captain.

"I knew him, back before all this, when his wife was still alive. He's really changed. D-Do you think that he's still all there in there?" Greg asked.

"Who cares? This mission's the pits anyway," Frank said.

"What are the rules for being on surveillance?" a voice from the door asked. Brad dropped his magazine, Greg sat up straight, and Frank crammed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. "This mission is important, but you wouldn't know that the way you behave!" she cried, walking into the small room, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "We all know he has some hidden motive behind this mission, but he is still the captain. You take orders, and you complete them, whether you like it or not. Got that?" she asked.

The three men mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said as one.

"Good."

His punches beat a staccato rhythm on the punching bag as she crept into the room. She idolized him for his calm, cool collectedness under pressure, she admired him for his natural leading ability.

She watched him slam his fists into the bag again and again. She knew he had recently lost his wife, who had died in the line of duty. She also knew that he was still grieving, and he was plotting revenge on the ones responsible.

But someday she hoped she could get him to forget his dead wife, and move on with his life, with her by his side.

"Sir?" she alerted him to her presence, watching as the sweat ran down his bare back.

"What?" he asked, turning towards her, and she gazed at his broad chest.

"You have a call on line two."

He nodded, dismissing her with a wave of his hands. Soon enough Angelus would get what he deserved; he and all those that aligned themselves with such evil. They would get what was coming to them, and the world would be a better place. He'd just have to wait.

She left, thinking that someday he wouldn't be able to dismiss her so easily. Someday, his pretty dead wife wouldn't always be on his mind. Someday would come soon enough. She could bide her time, wait for it to come.