Faith - XXII
'Steal me, deal me, anyway you heal me,
Maim me, tame me, you can never change me,
Love me, like me, come ahead and fight me,
Please me, tease me, go ahead and leave me.'
- I Think I'm Paranoid by Garbage
Giles sank into the cushions of the rather tattered reclining chair and raised a glass of Scotch to his lips. He drank deeply from the tumbler until the nectar was no more, and was refilling it once again from a half empty bottle before he had even finished swallowing. The Scotch burned the back of his throat with a warmth that Giles welcomed. His vision was beginning to blur a little around the edges and the Watcher knew that he was already well on his way to blissful inebriation. He chuckled aloud to himself at nothing in particular and then quickly drained the second glass. Setting it down on the table beside him, he wasted no time in reaching once again for the bottle.
Dawn had departed for Italy a little over an hour ago having been forced to transfer to a later flight. Giles had found himself relieved by the girl's sudden change of heart but simply could not shake the feeling that something was still very much awry with the situation. He had done his best to make his peace with Dawn at the airport but the girl had remained stiff and unyielding all throughout their goodbye. Sometimes she was too much like Buffy for her own good, but there were not many who were brave enough to point this out to either of the Summers women.
As a quiet knock resounded on the door of his motel room, Giles stiffened and then grimaced. He endeavoured to pour himself another round before responding but his trembling hand resulted in a great deal of Scotch slopping over the lip of his glass and onto the carpet. Giles' irritation doubled.
"Bugger off…" Giles called, giggling to himself as he realised the wealth of uncharacteristic rudeness behind his words. There was a pause and Giles hoped that the unwelcome visitor was beginning retreat. He was currently not in the mood for coddling a bunch of half-hearted vampire slaying wannabes whose best aspiration could be to pale in comparison to his Buffy.
Giles' hope was quickly dispelled as suddenly the door was flung open, revealing a very bemused and irate vampire on the threshold. Spike took in the Watcher's condition within seconds and his lip curled upwards forming a disgusted sneer that only appeared to evoke further amusement from Giles.
"William!" Giles said jovially, thrusting his glass in Spike's direction as the vampire stepped into the room. Since it was only a temporary residence, the fact that he had yet to receive an invitation was inconsequential.
"Come in, sit, let me fetch you a drink… maybe another underage school girl to violate."
Giles chuckled at his jibe and reached out to set his glass on the coaster he had placed on the table. His first three attempts failed, but the fourth saw the tumbler resting rather precariously on it's intended spot.
Spike released a warning growl that resounded low in his throat and his pale fingers curled immediately into fists at his side. He appeared to be harnessing every last ounce of self control to prevent from launching himself forwards in attack. Spike did not bother to attempt to mask his fury as he continued to glare at Giles, who stared back with all the dignity he could currently muster.
"What the bloody hell are you playing at, Giles?" Spike demanded, his tone clearly less than amused.
"I might ask you the same," Giles replied, staggering to his feet and clutching the side of the table for much needed support. He narrowed his eyes at the vampire before him as he continued, "Don't think I don't know what happened between you and Dawn. You will be truly sorry you ever laid an unworthy finger on that girl once Buffy is back…"
"Buffy will never be bloody well back," Spike thundered, taking a step towards Giles, who stood his ground, "not if all we do is sit around here on our fannies twiddling our soddin' thumbs whilst we wait for one of us to have an epiphany. We need a plan, Giles, and those girls out there need direction."
Spike picked up the bottle of Scotch from the table and, without a final word, flung it against the wall. The bottle exploded on impact and shards of glass rained down onto the unmade bed. The liquid contained within coursed a river down the paintwork, leaving noticeable track marks in its wake.
"We've been waiting long enough," Spike snarled, his eyes narrowing as Giles collapsed once more into the recliner with no apparent intentions of immediate action.
"And what is it you propose we do then, Spike?" Giles sneered, removing his glasses and tossing them across the surface of the table. He rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes and shot the vampire a furious glare.
"I don't bloody know, do I?" Spike retorted, "you're the Watcher, work around that concept. Figure something out."
Giles gazed soberly across at Spike before suddenly doubling over in a fit of laughter. Spike growled in answer. He had crossed the remaining distance between them in a matter of seconds. Gathering Giles' collar in one hand, Spike lifted the man clear off the seat and held him aloft towards the ceiling. Giles appeared surprisingly nonplussed. However, he clearly battled to keep his eyes focused on the vampire's face. Spike recognised that Giles was beginning to slip into the heavy unconsciousness that followed immediately after a drinking binge. With a disgusted sigh, Spike lowered Giles almost gently back into the chair and moved at least several feet away from the Watcher, should he again be tempted to rebel against his conscience.
"If we don't do something now then Buffy, Red, and everyone else left alive in L.A. will die," Spike hissed, struggling to restrain the demon within who was rattling against the bars of its cage.
"I don't know what to do…" Giles confessed in a broken whisper. He dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders suddenly began to tremble with the very effort of breathing. Spike faltered, unsure of how to proceed given Giles' rather precarious mental state. Before Spike could speak, a second familiar voice cut cleanly through the silence.
"That's where I come in."
Both Giles and Spike turned simultaneously to the open door. Faith stood on the stoop, her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked to one side as her keen eyes drank in the scene before her. Her auburn hair was pulled into a French braid that hung down her back yet this seemed to be the only elegant aspect of her appearance. She wore low slung black jeans, hiking boots, and a red flannel shirt that succeeded in teasing the faintest traces of a pink glow from her ivory complexion. Faith sucked in a breath and grimaced as though she tasted animosity. The atmosphere was rife with conflict, something that Faith could never fail to detect since she had been the instigator of much in her lifetime.
"Faith," Giles murmured, sounding almost grateful for this sudden and unexpected turn in events. He even managed to raise a smile which Faith responded to with a playful wink.
"Ripper," she admonished, her smirk growing as she crossed into the bedroom and motioned to the empty glass at Giles' side. "You know, that stuff won't do much else aside from give ya a killer headache in the morning."
"You have a plan then?" Spike demanded, seizing Faith's upper arm and spinning her to face him. Faith coolly eyed the fingers that had encircled around her bicep before her eyes flicked to Spike's face.
Her expression unreadable and tone even, she said, "Don't. Ever. Touch. Me."
Slowly, Spike released the Slayer from his grasp but kept his eager gaze trained upon her.
"Yes, I gotta plan," Faith replied, a little of her arrogance beginning to radiate from her person as she realised that she had yet again become their saving grace. Despite her recent reformation, more than anything Faith still relished having the upper hand.
"So?" Spike probed, his fingers twitching impatiently as he awaited further explanation. The separation from Dawn bothered him more than he had liked and, following their earlier goodbye, Spike had found himself wandering round under a permanent thundercloud. He currently had little patience for Faith's procrastination.
"We go to L.A." Faith answered, her gaze drifting momentarily to Giles who had finally succumbed to sleep and was now snoring loudly, his mouth hanging wide open.
"Oh yes, wonderful, bloody marvellous," Spike said laughing incredulously, "don't know why none of us thought of that. Just one small problem there, love… there's a bloody force field that's as impenetrable as a nun's knickers around the place."
Faith arched an eyebrow and shook her head.
"We arm ourselves to the eyeballs, pitch tents out of view, and we wait," she said, unperturbed by Spike's agitation. "We work in two teams, rotate in shifts so that you can cover the graveyard stretch. Whoever isn't working can catch a few zeds in the van. If anyone sees us, we're just a bunch of crazy kids out for camping high-jinx. When the force field drops again, we'll know."
"That could take months… years even…" Spike barked, running his hands through his hair and beginning to pace the expanse of the room like a caged animal. "It may never happen."
"Would you know if it had holed up here in your comfy motel?" Faith challenged archly, planting both hands on her hips and glaring at Spike. He paused, weighing the truth behind her words, and then finally shook his head.
"I suppose not."
Faith preened a little. Spike had admitted defeat and, given Giles' current state, she was now in charge of proceedings. She rubbed her hands together before plopping lightly down onto the arm of Giles' recliner. She hooked her thumb in Giles' direction and raised a questioning eyebrow at Spike.
"What the hell happened to get Giles' panties in such a bunch?"
Spike snorted before replying, "Don't even ask. You'll find out whilst Buffy is shoving a stake through my heart and cloves of garlic up my arse."
Faith nodded, willing to let the matter go for the time being, and Spike was thankful for that at least.
"Well, I guess I'd better turn in, busy day tomorrow and all," Spike said, moving towards the doorway in evident relief for the opportunity of escape. "Well, goodnight then."
Already beginning to rummage in her pockets for a replacement stick of gum, Faith merely nodded and did not bother to so much as glance at Spike as he exited the motel room. He closed the door behind him to the sound of Giles' uninterrupted snoring and nothing more. Spike found himself increasingly thankful that with this particular Slayer, there were no pretences.