Prague
Wood splintered as Faith crashed into a door frame. The door held, but barely, and Faith shook the chippings off, not particularly impressed. The lack of air to her lungs didn't help, either. She ducked as a meaty fist swung out at her head. This broke the door, and she sent the assailant hurtling through. In the alleyway it didn't take long to finish off the female vampire, who screeched curses at her in that weird-ass language.
"I feel the same way," Faith said, plunging the stake deep. Dust kicked up into the air. Immediately after the slaying, Faith retreated into the house, planning to make her escape onto the rooftops. The noise of their brawl already attracted other creatures of the night and she didn't want to hang and meet them. Vampires she could probably deal with. Plague walkers - best to keep those away with a pole - preferably the longest one possible. She'd seen the effects of them firsthand. The last thing she needed was a walker grabbing her with its inky black hands and poofing her into a whole lot of nothing.
Squeezing through a port-window, she clattered onto the roof, making her way to a higher vantage point. A crescent moon hung in the sky, with stars bunched in constellations, all watching her progress in the night. From the cockerel weathervane, she eyed at least six plague demons shuffling along the streets, swarms of vampires searching for morsels, and a couple of minotaurs looking big and generally obnoxious. They were as bulky as the golems from the Lyceum, and possessed enervating auras, like the walkers. She crouched, contemplating diving down on one of them. Her Inner Slayer agreed gleefully, sending a welcoming rush of power into her veins…
She caught sight of Angel hopping from roof to roof a fair distance away, his black coat flapping like bat wings. She dragged herself out of her daze and headed towards him, examining for any injuries on herself along the way. Skidding down red brick tiles, she pounced onto the next roof, boots cracking the wooden boarding which separated her from the long fall below. Angel joined her on the apex of the building, waving in greeting. They both settled down, legs swinging over the drop.
"Nice night," he observed.
Faith smirked in response, flexing the bones in her knuckles. On the outskirts of Prague, wind ruffled the plants in their flowerpots and hanging baskets. Less than thirty metres away, all the plants in their troughs and patches of soil lay still. Picking up some roof gravel, she threw it in a straight arc. It hit something and bounced. The ripple from the point of impact extended far above their heads to race across the night sky.
"This makes me think we're the goldfish in a bowl." Faith scooped up more grit, flicking it away. "Pretty dumb fish." She indicated the transparent barrier covering the entire city.
Angel laughed. "That's one way to put it. Don't think we look that fishlike, though."
More gravel struck the barrier; again, it shuddered out a pulse, otherwise remaining completely unaffected. Faith sucked in an irritated breath.
"You know, someone paying attention will notice the big ripples you're doing, find out the source, then probably eat you," Angel pointed out.
Faith stopped throwing things, flashing an impish grin instead. "Nah. By the time they get here, I'll be gone. So I'm thinking they'll eat you."
"Thanks," Angel said flatly.
"No prob. Any luck your end?"
"Some," Angel admitted. He tugged out a small, scrunched piece of paper from his duster. The writing on it was almost illegible. "Took a good few days to track 'em down. Everyone's gone to ground since the barrier came up. The sewer system here is like a giant labyrinth… which is typical. Why can't we ever get small sewers? It's not like there's a huge underworld just beneath our feets or anything."
"Huh." Faith's senses prickled. She traced the source to the shambling movement of a plague walker some fifty feet off, ignoring Angel's tirade. She couldn't see it down in the twisting alleyways, but knew from experience it had no climbing skills.
"What about your end?" Angel carefully placed the wad of paper back.
"Nothing. Killed some vamps. They didn't feel much like talking."
"Ah." Angel vaulted up, adopting a mild pace across the rooftops. Faith stretched and followed. Their shoes tapped lightly on the tiles. Their jumps caused the most noise, and Faith winced whenever shale or brick broke off to smash on the ground. Plague walkers skittered towards the sounds, but Faith and Angel stayed high, covering the roofs as fast and silently as possible.
Almost as silently as possible.
"You know, I could be chilling on a beach somewhere. Or pacing a cell in jail. Either way, somewhere way better than here," Faith whispered the complaint.
Angel raised an eyebrow as he slowed. "Have I ever told you how awesome you are to stay, then? I can do that if you want."
'S'not like I had a choice, was it? That chess dude has the teleport thingy.'
"True. But as long as you're helping to prevent the apocalypse, I can overlook that issue." Angel leapt over a large gap, grinning.
She followed Angel's trajectory with ease. "Least I'm working on them issues."
"Good girl."
"Thanks. Speaking of issues…" Faith fumbled on the next jump, gripping hard onto the tiles before Angel fished her up. "Hearing about Buffy grinding on version #2 of me kinda pisses me off."
"I don't know," Angel disagreed, "I thought it was a good sign. Becoming friends with this Faith makes it a good chance she can get on with you someday."
"Sure." Faith didn't bother to argue the point with Angel. She didn't want to explain to him how she felt like she'd been kicked in the guts. Neither did she feel particularly proud of mentioning the irrational jealously she felt for this other, more successful Faith. She didn't desire telling him how close the feelings pulled her into the very darkness she struggled against, and would probably always struggle against for the rest of her life.
Angel sensed something in her demeanour, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Redemption's a bitch."
She snorted. "You're telling me." She felt a little better.
When they made it back to Vllk's workshop, they found the old man speaking fast into a cellphone and jerking his arms in agitation. Wesley conversed with two other people over a cluttered table of books, ink, quills, and paper; both garbed in non-descript grey clothing. A small badge adorned their belt buckles, white and round with a charging black bull symbol.
"It is bad," one said in a voice so oily, you could taste the accent. "Not impossible, but more resources than the Lyceum could ever have."
"Could they do it?" Wesley acknowledged the bedraggled Angel and Faith with a wave and eyebrow flash. Faith went to her favourite corner, irritated to see one of the big animated clay things had taken up residence there as well. Witiezslav stared impassively, unresponsive to Faith's attempts to move it.
'Think it likes you,' Angel suggested.
"Oh, yeah. Laugh riot right here, me and it." She gave Witiezslav an icy squint. The golem appeared not to notice. It looked slightly ridiculous, hemmed in by the mountain of books and bookshelves. At full height, it almost scraped the ceiling. It made Faith think of an oversized bookend.
"We do not know. Perhaps. They are strong." The man talking with Wesley clenched his fists, resting them on the table. The other Lyceum member, Wentz, observed with careful neutrality. Although he understood what everyone said, his accent was so barbarous, no one English speaking could understand him. So he just didn't bother talking. He sat and occasionally drummed his gnarled hands on the table.
"What are you two on about?" Angel asked as he went past Vllk, still locked in angry discussion on the cellphone. Both Lyceum members shrank back as Angel wedged himself next to Wesley.
The Englishman beamed at him. "Oh, we were considering whether the Darkwalkers would be able to breach the Lyceum's shielding. Kesar thinks they may." He indicated the blonde young man with the thick accent. Kesar warily glanced at Angel before funnelling back into the conversation.
"We cannot allow it to happen. As long as they are trapped here, they cannot affect the world."
"Yeah, yeah, noble duty and all." Angel dismissed Kesar's stoicism. "But regardless of the big, bouncy barrier, there's trouble brewing on every Hellmouth on the world, right?"
Wesley shrugged agreement. "Yes, but we can hardly deal with other problems when we have this one on our hands."
Kesar nodded violently. "The source is here. The other corruptions can be controlled. This is the danger area."
"Please!" Vllk snapped, flinging the cellphone at Angel. The vampire caught it with fast reflexes, bemused. "Did your useless Lyceum guards even realise two Darkwalkers had escaped around a decade ago? I think not."
Kesar and Wentz both went white as paint.
"That's right," Vllk growled, eyebrows squashed together in temper. "My informants tell me we are missing one Rekhyt and one Balthus. Rekhyt has been sighted in Sunnydale. We have reason to suspect Balthus has infiltrated the Council, hence the amazingly stupid decisions coming from them that have resulted in this very situation in the first place."
Wesley gaped. "You know their names?"
"Only twenty of them are left in total. Of course we do. Balthus is insipid like the rest of their foul breed; but Rekhyt… now that is one I wouldn't want freed. He is like a child with a machine gun."
Bereft of speech, Kesar could only blink his anxiety. Wentz looked as though he wanted to find somewhere to hide.
"So, let me get this straight a sec." Angel slammed his hands down on the scrolls, drawing attention. "This shield you guys have is basically useless, then?"
Faith snorted, flinching when she realised she was using Witiezslav as a leaning pole. Vllk glanced at her, peeved.
"Do not laugh, girl. Those eighteen remaining Darkwalkers and their assorted plague walkers will seek you out especially. They have problems with Slayers."
"Doesn't everything," Faith muttered, folding her arms under her chest. Angel moved a lantern to the edge of the table, the light wobbling and casting distorted shadows on his face.
Vllk frowned at a bookcase. His lips moved wordlessly for a moment. "We are not without hope, though," he eventually said. "It's what you call a long shot, but we might be able to take the long way round to capture our foes. Since the exact spell details of the original trap binding them are a mystery, there might be another approach."
"Right," Angel nodded, dubious. If the minotaurs could escape the original binding, then what was to say they wouldn't again? As a short term solution though, if it worked…
The Lyceum guards watched Vllk as he ruminated. The shop door swung inwards and a shadow blocked the entrance. The other golem, Jan Hus, had returned, shuffling quietly into the store. When it didn't announce anything, Vllk continued his train of thought:
"The Sunnydale group can help us with this as well. We will all attempt to gather the components for a high level Mori locator spell. Rare as they are…"
"What does that do?" Wesley said.
"It's a special kind of locator that seeks out what we personally need. Needless to say it can deliver very contrary results, but if we all attempt to seek out an solution to this turmoil, it may show us how. I'm hoping it will show us how to reseal."
"You want us all to take part in this?" Faith asked.
Vllk nodded. "Yes. The spell is unpredictable enough as it is, should we get it working. Maybe someone will have the right wish."
"You got a list of that stuff then? I can call the others now." Angel displayed the cellphone. Vllk smiled grimly and fetched a piece of paper from one of the other tables.
*** Sunnydale ***
Squealing the wheels to a halt, Buffy pushed the car door open and wobbled out. Her shoes squelched on soggy ground, wet from the week of rain. The mud churned grass led up to a barrier of trees, stretching out into thick woodland.
The Inner Slayer snickered. Could we do that with a little less crashing, next time? Whoever said you drive like a spaz, knew what they were talking about.
I got us back, didn't I? Buffy scowled as she examined the front of the mini for damage. The shy emergence of dawn made it easy to see. There were quite a few dents and scratches on the bumper and hood, as though the car had been driven repeatedly into things. One lamppost, two cars and a vampire, to be precise. Buffy was willing to admit she might not be the world's most dexterous and skilled driver, but something about the Inner Slayer's voice really grated on her nerves.
That's because the sound of me speaking is your own voice.
Yup. The Inner Slayer sure had a way of making her feel better. She wrenched open one of the back doors. Hooking a few shopping bags onto her arms, she closed it quietly and checked the surroundings where the mini was surreptitiously parked. Deeming it concealed enough from the main roads, she worked her way through the dense overgrowth into the woodlands.
She made it about four hundred yards in before needing to rest, letting the bags slip off her now bloodless arms. The physical result of her shopping trip showed up in the form of welts, scratches, and concealed scabs of blood. Also, her tank top was pretty much ruined. Sitting down, she gingerly lifted up the remains of the top to see the wounds. She didn't have much time to check them out earlier. The ground beneath her was slithery, but the new stains barely detracted from the many others smeared on her jeans.
"Whoever said shopping wasn't eventful," Buffy quipped, letting the top fall back down. The sound of a twig snapping drew her attention. She suppressed an grin.
Faith dropped in seconds later, barely rustling the leaves as she settled comfortably beside. She looked worse for wear as well. Her hair was a mess of snarls, split ends, and leaves. Muddy cuts bruised down her forearms.
"Hey, B," she whispered.
"Hey, yourself." Buffy examined Faith's face, taking in the very battered appearance.
"Checking out the goods?" Faith rubbed her eyes, yawning.
"Uh." Buffy shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Too tired to think of a witty comment back. Where's your stuff?"
"Had to ditch it."
"You ditched it?"
The brunette let out a choking laugh. "Yeah. You've seen me today, right?" She displayed her arms, tentatively, applying saliva to the top of her hand to wash along the cuts. "Some vamp thought it'd be a blast to crash the motor. Met the business end of my stake."
"Good. Are you okay, then? Pointless as that question may be."
"Sure. bike ain't so good, though. Paint's busted." Faith sighed in irritation.
"I'm, uh, sorry?" Buffy had no idea about motorbikes, but she did know Faith seemed pretty proud of the one she'd 'borrowed' from a motor shop.
"Thanks. I'll survive. Yourself?"
"Good. Although I do have this lovely flesh wound. Caused, I believe, by a cheese grater." Buffy pointed to a ridge of raw skin on the side of her stomach.
"Nice. I get just boring knives."
Buffy couldn't take the sight of Faith salivating on her own arms anymore. "Here, let me." She pulled wet wipes from her tight jean pocket. The packet was mostly crushed, with about four wipes remaining; Especially Sensitive and Caring to Baby's Skin.
Faith snorted. "You walk around with these in your pocket…?" She held out her right arm, letting Buffy do the honours.
"Not normally, no," Buffy admitted, starting to clean/disinfect Faith. "But I do use these to remove makeup. All this running around and dealing with apocalypse stuff makes the mascara run like crazy, you know?"
"Sure," Faith replied. Buffy noted Faith's natural face appeared tired and haggard, and recalled their first patrol together since coming into this world, seeing the same ghost of exhaustion cleverly disguised under heavy eyeliner and foundation. Concern twinged. How long would this Faith last as a Slayer? The number nineteen floated into her mind.
The average life expectancy for their line of work.
She's far too young to look like that.
And both of you are far too young to die.
I know, right?
A peculiar sense of guilt washed over Buffy. If I could change the terms of this contract with you human girls, I would.
Not sure how to answer that, Buffy catapulted herself back into the current situation. Faith watched Buffy's ministrations all the while with an unfathomable expression. Her dilated eyes caused Buffy's stomach to do little uneasy flips.
"This is getting to be a habit," Faith observed, one side of her mouth curling up. She offered her other arm.
"At least this one wasn't my fault."
"True. By the way, B - next time we decide to drive sixty miles out to the middle of nowhere to find a store still selling, I'm taking the car - and I'm damn well driving." Faith regarded the shopping around them. Her eyes glinted in greed. One hand crept to a bag and started rifling through it.
"Nuh uh!" Buffy slapped Faith's wrist. "They're for everyone. I did not put my life on the line for sweet and savoury snacks just so you can wolf them all down.""Yo," Faith protested, "I could eat a horse!" She took the tissue from Buffy and worked on her face. She managed to glare at Buffy whilst doing it. "Serious, B. I'm the fucking driver."
"You're not that much better than me."
Faith held her tongue, but her expression said it all. Yeah, right.
Buffy sighed, stretching her muscles until they cricked. "Sure. Whatever, F." Sunlight stabbed into her eyes. She squinted, feeling no desire or energy to move. Seeing the mud and the lumps of shopping depressed her.
"Faith. Move me."
Faith chewed on her lip. In the light they glowed amber, like feral cats waiting to pounce. "Move yourself."
"But that requires effort."
The brunette snorted, tossing the tissue away. Slowly picking up the bags, she hooked them all on one arm. With the other, she grabbed Buffy by the collar, hauling her upright. "This works as well. Let's get you back to camp."
"Gotta say, I'm not really liking the service," Buffy complained, as she was dragged unceremoniously along.
Apart from a few more snide remarks from Faith, they made it to camp without any more incident. In the dawn, the woodlands echoed with hushed birdsong, and the smell of damp soil and wood permeated the atmosphere. Although they spoke and trod softly, their arrival stirred up the group all scattered around the fire. Most were lying on the ground, asleep or in lethargic stupors. Xander was hunched up by the fire, feeding it a fresh log from the pile stacked up nearby. He gave the two Slayers a friendly wave.
"Well, If it isn't my two favourite superheroes! Do you come bearing gifts?"
"We come bearing gifts," Buffy replied, gesturing to Faith, who had all the luggage on her. "Faith lost hers, so I made her carry mine."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? She has a temper as thin as a breadstick. Maybe you should offer to take them back."
"Don't worry about me. I think I got her trained good."
"Guys. Right here," Faith grumbled, placing all the bags by Voirrey and Giles. Both Watchers commandeered control of the supplies, maintaining they were probably the only ones who could distribute the food sensibly.
Giles fumbled for his glasses, looking extremely peeved. "Could you all speak up any louder, please? I'm afraid I might be able to add onto the thirty minutes of sleep I've gotten so far."
Voirrey laughed, moving her blanket aside to help Faith start sorting through the new supplies.
A loud groan came from underneath a multicoloured blanket. "People have their mouths open. Sound is coming out. Shut up." Anya wriggled out from the blanket, appearing very, very disgruntled. Her hair flopped in an interesting mess over her face. "Please."
"Ann," Xander warned, placing a hand on his girlfriend.
"I said please."
Buffy took the food offered to her from Voirrey, and sat down with her legs crossed to devour it. She and Faith got considerably larger portions than everyone else because of their Slayer metabolisms. She mostly tuned out the noise of her fellow campers, where the bickering became almost routine because of the limited amount of sleep everyone got. Apocalypses just weren't considerable enough to stand aside for them, after all - especially in the clothes department. She only had three outfits, and the one currently being worn needed to be thrown.
Faith sat by Buffy, brushing her elbow against her bare arm. Buffy flicked a smile at the brunette Slayer.
"What's up?" Faith asked, shovelling food into her mouth with complete lack of grace and manners.
"Too much. My mind wants to explode," Buffy replied, finishing off her provisions with a bottle of water.
"Oh, we can't have that." Willow and Tara joined the Slayers, loaded up with their own breakfast samples. Willow's leg was in a makeshift wooden splint, wrapped tightly in rope.
"Did your trip go okay?" Tara's attention was on the bruise on Faith's face. The blonde spoke slowly, the horrific scarring on her face affecting the movement of her lips. Although her words sounded amiable enough, her single clear eye appeared crinkled in pain. A wrench of sadness went through Buffy. Tara didn't deserve this.
"Yeah, 'course. Whole thing a blast, Blondie."
"Oh, yeah. She only fell off the bike once," Buffy agreed. Faith glared at her as the statement caused a spread of worried expressions from everyone in the camp.
"Least I didn't crash the car like a million times because I'm a useless as hell driver."
"Least I didn't lose the supplies."
"Least I look way hotter than you."
"As if."
The banter continued back and forth like a tennis match, eating up the minutes. The tension in the camp lifted, relaxing into the familiar ease of another slow day. The banter was about the only thing that prevented everyone from becoming stir-crazy. Sunnydale remained too dangerous to wander into, and everything around them showed signs of the apocalypse. Buffy managed to snatch around three hours of sleep, her body urging her into it to kick-start the Slayer healing. She woke up to see people and about, exercising, talking, their voices blurring around her ears in a wash of sound. Someone rested their hand on her head, and murmured something. Faith? She dared a glance upwards, getting a view of the brunette's stomach, chest and chin. The vivid onyx necklace looped around her neck, twinkling in the sunlight.
Am I on her lap? Buffy processed the thought sluggishly. Yup. Her head was on lap territory. Squishy lap territory. Her face flushed in embarrassment, but rather than reprieve herself of the comfortable position, she squeezed her eyes shut, slowing her breathing to feign sleep. Her mind flashed with random images in a slideshow of all the worries weighing it down. Images of the apocalypse. Images of twisted Plague monsters wandering the roads of Sunnydale, their touch turning the living into the not very living. The Plague monsters were apparently made up of all the Wiccan sacrifices of the past two years. God knows what it was like anywhere else. Giles mentioned about every Hellmouth in the world having that stupid spell shielding them. So, make that seven or so Hellmouths, toss in a bunch of dead but animated spell casters walking around and blipping people out of existence, mix up some angry minotaurs escaping out of some pit in Prague, and sprinkle several waves of dark energy causing demonic activity all over the world to go haywire and lay siege to major cities…
It all added up to Not Good and Duh.
Of course, the other thing that annoyed Buffy, almost as much as the inconvenient apocalypse, was the information Giles and Voirrey chose to withhold from everyone. Information about the Angel Investigation team currently living it up in Prague.
Information mentioning the fact of another Faith being in Prague. Her Faith.
Biggest. Mindscrew. Ever.
She didn't know what to think. She'd only really started getting to like and appreciate the Faith she currently borrowed the lap of. Accepting the sexual innuendos, getting past the obstacles she planted between them, and actually enjoying being in her company.
Then to find out the Faith responsible for the heavy history and pain and the issues in the first place, her Faith, was actually here. In this world. The ocean that separated them didn't matter. How could Buffy not begin to appreciate the presence of the brunette with her right now, without drawing parallels to the one she urged to jail after everything they went through?
Oh, not to mention, both of whom I nearly killed.
Yeah, you are getting a track record for that.
Needless to say, Buffy had some issues to sort out in her head.
"I know you're awake, B." Faith poked her on the nose. "My legs are kinda dead. Need ya to move."
Buffy mumbled something in protest as Faith slid her off, gently placing her head on the blanket. Faith groaned in relief, lying on the floor and stretching all her limbs out to full length.
"Cold," Buffy said. In response, Faith tossed her own blanket over Buffy. After crawling out of it, Buffy glared. "Thanks."
"No prob," Faith grinned, dimples popping out.
Later on in the day, everyone took it in turns to wash in the nearby river, passing the hours as best as they could whilst waiting for news to filter in from Prague. Giles and Voirrey had no success contacting Angel's side, but left messages all the same. The breakthrough came mid-afternoon when Voirrey's phone began to sing out a series of beeps. The Watcher answered the call and put her phone on loudspeaker.
"Hey, it's Angel. Anyone there?"
Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, crowding around the golem to chorus out greetings to the vampire, including one: "Well, bloody finally!" from Giles.
"Whoa, liking the enthusiasm," he chuckled. "Sorry we couldn't contact you earlier, but we had some pretty good reasons. Everyone here says hi as well, by the way."
"We do not have time for chit-chat," an accented voice cut across Angel's; Vllk or whatever his name was. "Tell them what we found out. Preferably before we die."
"Hey, hey, I'm getting to it! So. Cliff notes. We're all going to cast the Mori Locator spell. But to do that, we need ingredients."
"Goody!" Willow exclaimed, clapping her hands like a seal. "Magic."
"I'm afraid I don't share the same enthusiasm," Voirrey intoned, shaking her head at Willow's excitement. "That spell is highly unreliable."
"Vllk thinks it's worth a chance. We've got a contact for you, who will have some of the supplies. His name is Darius. Some demon guy. He's hiding out in Weytown, which is about a hundred or so miles from where you are. He's happy to give the goods to you for free - on the good faith we'll stop the end of the world. Nice of him, really. But just to give you a clearer idea, here's the actual ingredients:"
Voirrey was already scribbling down the information, with both Giles and Tara leaning over to check what she recorded. She copied down Angel's information on the ingredients, before speaking up; "Alright, suppose we do this and then obtain the rest of the supplies. What if it doesn't work?"
"We could improvise some of the stuff," Willow said. "Substitute the Eye of Horus for an hawk eye and add a splash of Nile water to it."
"Good idea," Giles smiled at her.
"Let's not go that far ahead yet," Angel replied. "You need to use a passcode for Darius. Fairly basic, just Mori and then Vllk's name. You, ah… may need to hurry. We think the bad dudes are closing in on him. They've gotten wind of the fact we're trying to counter them, and they're pretty desperate not to let that happen."
Buffy smiled. "By all means, let them panic."
"Is that everything?" Giles murmured.
"Almost. When you hit Weytown, you're looking for the Ritz club. Darius is in that. It's not a very big place, so you shouldn't have too much of a problem finding it. It used to be a popular hangout for some demon biker gang, so watch out for those. Wolfram and Hart may be hunting him down as well. All in all, be careful."
"Thank you, Angel," Giles said. "Be safe."
"Trying," the vampire responded, his voice dry. The call ended.
"So…" Buffy began, choosing her words carefully, "We have to drive millions of miles to a shady area run by a demon biker gang, to find a shady dealer, to make a shady deal for some shady ingredients, then hightail it back before Wolfram and Hart and the scary minotaur guy and his army of creepy minions find us?"
"I'll do it," Faith interrupted. "Sounds like business to me."
"Not if you're driving, it isn't."
"I will confirm that Faith is an excellent driver," Voirrey said to Buffy, without a trace of sarcasm. Buffy stared at the Watcher suspiciously.
Faith stood up. "Better get ready. We'll be taking the Harley when we leave later."
"What?!" Buffy let her mouth hang open in horror. "You're not serious! Bad idea! Bad!"
Faith grinned impishly.
"Does it have to be your bike, dear?" Voirrey said with some distaste.
"You might give Buffy a heart attack," Xander agreed, trying and failing to hide his mirth. "She already looks around halfway to one."
"Oh, ha, ha. Mock the blonde." Buffy sighed and covered her eyes, falling backwards. "Do whatever you want to me. I don't care anymore. But at least let me change into some better clothes."
"We don't have any better clothes," Anya tilted her head as she regarded Buffy in bafflement. "We don't have money. And shops. And everything wants to kill us."
For some reason, Faith found Anya's statement absurdly funny. She laughed uproariously, on and on until tears actually came out of her eyes. Others joined in with titters and chuckles.
Buffy smiled as well. The sound of laughter had the distinct ring of hope. Hope was a nice thing to have.