Charmed: Another Halliwell

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

Summary: Buffy Summers is the daughter of Joyce and Hank Summers. Joyce was born Patience Joyce Halliwell she was Prue, Piper and Phoebe's aunt. When Joyce dies Buffy is left in the care of her cousins. Pairings: Prue, Piper, and Phoebe (and later Paige) canon pairings. Buffy/Dawn (Yes, Forbidden Sibling Love). A/U Set during and after Charmed Season 1 and Buffy season 1.

69. Chapter 69: Enemies

Q/A: Sikanda - I'm sorry Riley like Angel and Spike are canon pairings and will be in the story. The final season 8 pairing is an Buffy/OC - Not, Riley, Spike or Angel. Reason being we know Riley gets married to Sam, Spike is dead and Angel well I'm doing a Buffy/Angel pairing for my other Charmed story and I don't want to repeat myself. Anyways season 4 and 5 pairing is Buffy/Riley. But don't you worry, Riley still leaves.

Author's Note - For those of you who had asked about Hope. I told you the big reveal on who Hope is would be tomorrow when that chapter was posted. I made a slight miscalculation it will be Sunday when that chapter is posted.

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Chapter 69: Enemies

March 15, 1999 – Monday

Streets of San Francisco

The doors of the Roxie theater swung open, releasing a vibrant wave of twenty-somethings, their emotions still entwined with the movie's narrative. Amidst the crowd, one couple seemed lost in their own world of passion, their kisses conveying a lingering intensity. Just a step away, another pair engaged in a more intense display of affection, hands exploring with an ardor that made it clear the film had been a sensuous journey. However, amidst this sea of emotions, Buffy and Angel stood out, their demeanor strikingly distant. Standing apart, a palpable tension held them, their arms defensively wrapped around themselves as if guarding against the film's aftermath.

"Well," Buffy's voice broke the silence, carrying a mix of bewilderment and unease.

"Well," Angel echoed, his tone mirroring her uncertainty.

"That was... well, it was very artistic," Buffy attempted to articulate, her words masking the complexity of her feelings.

"Yeah..." Angel's response held a hint of agreement, laden with a layer of uneasiness.

"Not quite what I'd expected... I'd never actually seen - well, from the title I thought it was about food," Buffy's attempt at humor carried a mixture of embarrassment and slight distress.

"There was food..." Angel interjected, his voice trailing off as if unable to fully express his thoughts.

"Right. The scene with the... food," Buffy stumbled over her words, her attempt at casual conversation veiling a deeper discomfort. "Do you feel like getting some hot chocolate? Or some cold shower?" she added with a nervous laugh, a fragile attempt at easing the awkwardness.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to take you out somewhere fun. It's been awhile since I've been to the movies. They've changed," Angel's voice carried a trace of regret, his words hinting at his intent to create a pleasant evening.

"Little scary," Buffy admitted, her gaze dropping briefly before locking onto his. Angel nodded, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "And a little not, which is also scary," she continued, her gaze unwavering as she stopped and turned to face him. Her vulnerability was palpable. "I'm just sorry to get you worked up like that. We can't do any of that stuff; you'd lose your soul, and besides, I don't even OWN a kimono," she confessed, a mix of resignation and affection lacing her words.

"Buffy, you don't have to worry about me," Angel reassured, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity.

"I just don't like to rub your nose in it," Buffy's words held a mix of confusion and concern, her brow furrowing in thought. "Suddenly wondering where that phrase comes from..."

Angel's smile was warm and understanding, a reflection of his appreciation for her consideration. "I don't need to see movies to get worked up. Just being around you does that just fine. It doesn't mean I'm gonna lose control. Or that I'm only frustrated around you. It feels nice just to feel."

"It doesn't drive you crazy? Even when we're... close?" Buffy's curiosity was tinged with vulnerability, her gaze searching his for reassurance.

"Watch this," Angel's voice was playful as he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. "See? Safe as houses."

Buffy responded to his kiss, her heart and emotions intermingling in the intimate connection they shared.

"Check out the lust-bunnies," Faith's voice interrupted the moment, her tone a mix of amusement and teasing.

Buffy and Angel reluctantly parted, their faces flushing with embarrassment, their intimacy unexpectedly exposed. They turned their attention to Faith, who stood between them, a knowing grin on her face.

"Patrol?" Buffy's question deflected the focus away from the awkwardness, her attempt to resume normalcy evident.

Faith's nod confirmed Buffy's assumption. "The council has you back on active duty?" Angel inquired, his curiosity mirroring Buffy's concern for their responsibilities.

Faith's nod was brimming with an air of accomplishment, her sense of purpose palpable. "Finally. They want us down by Mercer."

"Okay," Buffy's response was tinged with both acceptance and reluctance, her voice betraying a mix of emotions that had settled within her.

"I'll see you soon," Angel's words were soft and reassuring, carrying an undercurrent of longing.

With a bittersweet smile, Buffy reluctantly left Angel's side, stepping away to join Faith. However, her grip on Angel's hand lingered, an unspoken connection refusing to be severed.

"Don't worry, big guy. Just keeping her warm for you," Faith's voice was teasing, yet there was an underlying camaraderie in her tone. Her playful words were punctuated by a knowing wink.

Restfield Cemetery

Buffy and Faith moved with synchronized grace through the cemetery, their senses attuned to their surroundings. Oblivious to the unseen presence tailing them, they carried an air of determination that belied their vigilance.

"Got to tell you, B., with the willpower thing - nice job," Faith's words held an admiring tone, layered with a hint of playfulness.

"Thanks, and... huh?" Buffy's response was tinged with surprise, her focus momentarily shifting as she processed Faith's compliment.

"The close but no cigar deal with Angel. I don't know if I could handle, you know, the way you're... not handling it?" Faith's words were punctuated by a candid chuckle.

Buffy's sigh held a mixture of resignation and vulnerability. "Faith, when it comes to Angel, do me a favor?" Her request hung in the air, carrying a weight of unspoken emotions.

Unbeknownst to them, an ominous figure cast a shadow over their path, a looming presence that remained concealed.

"Duck," Buffy's command sliced through the tension, her instincts kicking in. In one swift motion, Faith complied, the natural rhythm between them evident. Buffy's punch connected with the shadowy figure's face, propelling it into a tomb wall. Their swift response, stakes at the ready, left the intruder pinned against the wall. It was Skyler, a demon in a coat and hat, his identity now revealed.

"Ow! What are you, nuts? Going around punching people," Skyler's voice held a mix of irritation and bewilderment, his complaint carrying a hint of humor.

"People?" Buffy's incredulous tone held a note of skepticism.

"So, what, I'm a demon that makes it okay?" Skyler's retort was laced with a touch of defiance, his words challenging their assumptions. As Buffy and Faith pulled their stakes back, preparing for another strike, Skyler's urgency grew. "Hold it!" he pleaded, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Whoa! Stake me now, you never find out what I got for you. Think about it, demon seeks Slayers, highly unusual..." he continued, his words weaving a thread of intrigue. Buffy and Faith hesitated, their stakes lowered but poised for action. Skyler seized the opportunity. "Plus you ruin a perfectly good suit," he added, his attempt at humor breaking the tension that had hung in the air.

"Talk fast. My partner's crazy. Don't know how long I can hold her back," Faith's words held a blend of impatience and guarded curiosity, her stance revealing her readiness to respond if needed.

Buffy exchanged a knowing glance with Faith, silently deciding to entertain the situation for the moment.

"How'd you like to get your hands on the Books of Ascension?" Skyler's inquiry hung in the air, carrying an air of intrigue and opportunity.

"Never heard of 'em," Buffy's response was laced with feigned ignorance, a subtle game of wit in motion.

"Books of Ascension. Very powerful works, and I am not talking about the prose," Skyler's voice held a hint of reverence, his words carrying a weight that extended beyond their literal meaning. "They deal with some dark stuff, and the Mayor would hate it if someone got ahold of them before he... you know."

The mention of the 'Mayor' ignited a spark of curiosity within Buffy, her interest piqued by the unexpected connection. In contrast, Faith's response was marked by an edgy skepticism, her guard raised against potential deception.

"No, I don't know. Before the Mayor what?" Buffy's probing question hung in the air, layered with intrigue.

"Hey, read 'em and weep. That's all I got to say. Tomorrow I get the books. Meet me here. If the price is right, I give the Books to you," Skyler's words carried an undercurrent of urgency, his proposal hanging tantalizingly in the air.

"I'm not looking to trade with a demon," Buffy's response was firm, revealing her unyielding stance against any form of alliance with the supernatural.

"And if this were still a barter economy, that would be a problem. I want cash, princess. Five large, for the whole set," Skyler's voice was brazen, his demand for a material transaction highlighting the stark realities of their world.

"So you can buy... and I'm guessing here, skin care products?" Faith interjected with a hint of sarcasm, her skepticism manifesting in her words as she sought to navigate the fine line between caution and humor.

"Plane ticket out of the Hellmouth before it's adios, Slayer Loco. So. Five Gs. What do you say?" Skyler's proposition carried an air of desperation, his words resonating with a mix of urgency and self-interest.

Faith's head shook with a mix of skepticism and defiance. "I think 'Die, fiend' kind of sums it up. Wouldn't you say?" Her words were edged with a defiant challenge, her stance unyielding.

Skyler's reaction was swift, bolting in response to Faith's hostility. Faith, ready to give chase, was restrained by Buffy's intervention. Buffy's voice held a pragmatic wisdom. "Let him walk. I don't think he falls in the 'deadly threat to humanity' category."

"Demon's a demon," Faith's response was terse, her outlook less lenient when it came to supernatural entities.

"I wouldn't mind knowing about this Ascension thing. Anything that can pin the Mayor down would be cool," Buffy's voice carried a determined resolve, her motivations centered on the greater good.

Faith's nod conveyed her agreement. "Yeah. It'd be cool," she acknowledged, her tone holding a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

Buffy's attention was directed where Skyler had disappeared, her gaze inadvertently missing the subtleties of Faith's expression. Unseen by Buffy, a deadened expression lingered in Faith's eyes, a window into the emotional weight she carried beneath her exterior.

March 16, 1999 – Tuesday

Gateway High School

In the library, Wesley's brows furrowed with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. He paced back and forth before Buffy, his demeanor reflecting his attempts to piece together the puzzle before him. Buffy was seated alongside Phoebe, Willow, and Xander, their collective expressions varying from curiosity to concern. Giles stood by his office door, his gaze focused on the pages of a thick, ancient book, his thoughts immersed in research.

"And you say this demon wanted cash? That's very unusual," Wesley's voice held a note of analytical curiosity, his experience as a Watcher prompting his investigation.

Giles nodded in agreement, his voice tinged with a touch of exasperation. "Demons after money. Whatever happened to the still-beating heart of a virgin? No one has standards anymore..." His words carried a blend of dry humor and nostalgia for the more traditional, if grisly, practices.

"He said the books were worth the price," Buffy's words were thoughtful, her gaze focused as she shared the information she had gleaned.

Xander's question cut through the tension with his trademark wit. "So what's this Ascension mean?"

Giles' response was marked by a contemplative shrug. "I'm not sure..." His tone held a hint of frustration at the lack of information at his disposal.

Wesley's agreement mirrored Giles'. "Not really a common term in demonology..." His voice held a scholarly air, laced with the acknowledgment of gaps in their knowledge.

"We looked for it in both Book of Shadows," Phoebe's contribution was earnest, her desire to assist evident. "There was no mention of it there."

Willow's eyes brightened with a sudden realization, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. "Ooh! Ooh! The Merenshtadt Text! I think the section on genocide has something about ascension."

Buffy's quick-witted response broke the tension, injecting a sense of lightheartedness. "Wow. We have a winner."

"And more importantly, two losers," Xander quipped, his tone carrying a mix of humor and camaraderie.

Giles' curiosity piqued, he inquired, "Where did you find that volume?"

"In the top of your book cabinet, with the stuff you try to keep hidden," Willow replied, her voice holding a touch of mischief.

Giles scowled lightly at Willow's candid revelation before he moved to retrieve the book.

Xander seized the moment with a mischievous grin. "Hidden? Any engravings I should know about? Frolicking nymphs of some kind?" His playful remark was met with a roll of the eyes from Phoebe, her exasperation tempered with a hint of amusement.

"No, just magic secrets Giles doesn't think I'm ready for," Willow explained, a mix of pride and vulnerability woven into her words.

Phoebe's head shook with a gentle admonition. "Willow, we're teaching you. You don't need to be going through Giles' books learning things before you're ready."

"As your Whitelighter," Buffy interjected, her gaze meeting Willow's with a blend of sincerity and protection. "Phoebe's right, Will," she affirmed, her role as a guiding presence in Willow's life evident. Her gaze held a depth of friendship that transcended their supernatural responsibilities. Just as Giles returned with the book, Buffy's attention shifted. "Anything?" she asked, her curiosity mirroring Giles'.

"Yes, quite. There's reference here to the journal of Desmond Kane, pastor of a town called Sharpsville. 'May 26th, 1723. Tomorrow is the ascension. God help us all.' That was last anyone heard," Giles shared, his voice carrying a sense of gravity as he unraveled the historical puzzle.

"Of Kane?" Wesley's inquiry held a note of clarification.

Giles shook his head, his expression tinged with somber contemplation. "Of Sharpsville. The town more or less disappeared, it seems." His words bore a weight of melancholy, hinting at the tragedies of the past and the mysteries that still remained unresolved.

"So, ascension possibly not a love-in," Buffy remarked, her tone laced with a mix of irony and skepticism.

"I think you'll want to meet with this demon, Buffy," Giles suggested, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

"Yeah. Anybody got five thousand dollars?" Buffy quipped, her words tinged with a playful sarcasm.

The entrance of Cordelia through the library doors interrupted the conversation, drawing the attention of the group. She approached Wesley with a hint of seriousness. "Can I ask something important?" Her words carried an unexpected gravity.

"Cordelia? Important? Let's start calculating those odds, people," Xander's voice was tinged with humorous skepticism, his playful remark reflective of their dynamic.

Cordelia proceeded, her words slightly awkward as she navigated the task at hand. "What are you doing Friday night?" Her question held a blend of curiosity and vulnerability, her gaze fixed on Wesley.

"As always, my sacred duty as Watcher prevents me from... why?" Wesley's response was tinged with a hint of dry humor, his attempt at witty deflection revealing a deeper eagerness to know her intent.

"I have to write a paper. For English. And you're English, so I thought..." Cordelia's words were slightly hesitant, her explanation conveying a mix of practicality and an underlying desire for connection. As the group watched in mild surprise, Cordelia's words took on a more assertive tone. "What? Is it so wrong to be getting an insider's perspective?" Her gaze returned to Wesley, her vulnerability masked by her casual demeanor. "I study best in a good restaurant. Around eight-ish. Think it over." With that, she turned and left the library.

Wesley's attempt to conceal his joy was not entirely successful, his expression betraying a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

"And on the day the words 'flimsy excuse' were redefined, we stood in awe and watched," Xander's words carried a humorous edge, his voice capturing the group's collective astonishment at Cordelia's unexpected proposition.

Wesley quickly regained his focus, his attention returning to the task at hand. "Right. Books of Ascension. Mayor. Slaughter. Bad. Tell you what: Why don't we try to find this demon sooner rather than later. Perhaps persuade him to lend us his books free of charge."

"I think Faith might be useful in the persuading part," Buffy suggested, her words hinting at Faith's aptitude for direct action.

Wesley nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligning with Buffy's assessment. "I imagine so. Where is Faith, anyway?" His question marked the shift from personal matters back to their ongoing mission.

Angel's Mansion

In the quiet of Angel's bedroom, the atmosphere carried an air of solitude and reflection. Angel, alone, was in the process of preparing for bed when he sensed a presence at the doorway. He turned to find Faith standing there, a mixture of vulnerability and desperation etched across her features. "Faith," he acknowledged, his voice a gentle murmur.

"Angel, I got nowhere else to go," Faith's words hung in the air, carrying the weight of her circumstances. Her eyes held a raw intensity, revealing the tumultuous emotions she grappled with. "Look, I hate asking for help. But I'm asking. Because I... I'm in trouble. Like the real kind," she confessed, her voice a mix of determination and apprehension.

"It's okay," Angel's response was a soothing reassurance, his voice offering a sanctuary amid her turmoil.

"Nah, it's... a couple of county lines over from okay, believe me," Faith's words were tinged with a blend of resignation and honesty, her admission of her dire situation laying bare her vulnerability.

"I believe you," Angel's affirmation was sincere, his gaze unwavering as he met her eyes. He hesitated for a moment before inviting her in, his actions carrying an unspoken acceptance.

Faith found a seat on the bed, her eyes staring forward but lost in the depths of her own fear. "Just talk," Angel gently encouraged, his words an invitation for her to unburden herself. "Start at the beginning."

"Mind if I skip past the 'Mom never loved me' part and get right to it? I'm scaring myself," Faith's words held a touch of self-deprecating humor, a fragile attempt to navigate her discomfort.

"I know the feeling," Angel's response held a shared understanding, his empathy resonating with her confession.

"That's why I came to you. I don't want to get all twelve-steppy, but remember, you told me that killing people'd make me feel like some kind of God?" Faith's words carried a sense of connection, a bridge between their past conversations. Angel nodded, his acknowledgment of their shared history evident. She held up her hands, blood coating her skin, a stark visual representation of her turmoil. "Think I just came down to Earth," Faith admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. As Angel examined her bloodstained hands, his concern deepened.

"It's not human," she continued, her voice carrying a note of detachment, as if she was trying to convince herself. "If that's what you're thinking. Not that that makes me feel any better. Or this guy any less dead."

"Faith. You need help. And you can't do it alone," Angel's words held a firm conviction, his voice a lifeline extended to her.

"I know. For real now, I'm scared. Scared of what I am, what I'm turning into. Cold-blooded, straight-up killer. Like you," Faith's admission was heavy with a mixture of fear and self-loathing, her gaze finally meeting Angel's as they shared a moment of profound understanding.

"No. You're not like me. I didn't have the choice," Angel's voice carried a quiet intensity, his words a declaration driven by conviction. As he looked into her eyes, his gaze bore into her, emphasizing his point. "But you do. You can stop this."

Faith's nod was a testament to his impact, an acknowledgment of the truth he was impressing upon her. She was receptive, open to the possibility of change. "Hey, believe me. I don't want to end up the way everybody said I would – dead or alone or a loser," her words were honest, layered with a vulnerability that reflected her deepest fears.

"You don't have to," Angel's response was gentle, his voice a steady anchor offering hope amid her uncertainty.

"But, I don't know, maybe it's too late for me," Faith's admission was marked by a sense of resignation, her self-doubt surfacing.

Angel's head shook firmly, his voice resolute. "It's not."

"Angel, I'm so scared..." Faith's voice trembled with a mix of fear and desperation. Seeking solace, she clung to him, her grip tight as if he were her lifeline. He responded instinctively, wrapping his arms around her and patting her back in a soothing gesture. As she buried her face in the curve of his neck, he provided a reassuring presence, a rock of stability in the midst of her turmoil.

After a moment, their positions shifted, their faces mere inches apart. Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. In the charged atmosphere, Faith's lips met his in a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Angel's reaction was swift, his hands gently capturing hers as he pulled back, his surprise evident. "Whoa. Faith, no. I can be here for you..." his words were careful, his tone laced with a mix of concern and restraint. "But not like that. I'm with Buffy."

"Buffy. Yeah. I didn't mean it like that. Maybe I did, but I wouldn't press it. I got my flaws, I'm aware, but... that ain't one of them," Faith's response was a blend of acceptance and defiance. While she didn't seek more kisses, she didn't fully retreat either. Her gaze held unwavering, her eyes locked onto his, the unspoken emotions between them lingering in the air. "You love her, don't you?" Her words were soft, a gentle prodding.

Angel's affirmation came without hesitation, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering honesty. "I love her." The weight of his emotions resonated in those words, a testament to the depth of his feelings for Buffy.

"Good for you. She's my friend too, you know. Might not have guessed it just now, but it's true. The two of you – you're lucky. We friends?" Faith's words carried a blend of sincerity and a hint of vulnerability. Her embrace, warm and genuine, forged a connection that transcended the complexities of their past.

"We're friends," Angel's response held a note of affirmation, his voice steady as he confirmed their bond.

"Then I'm lucky, too. I better go," Faith's voice was tinged with a mixture of gratitude and resolve. Her intention was to step away, but a fleeting moment of connection held her in place, the weight of her words carrying a depth of gratitude. She regarded Angel with a genuine affection, her gaze speaking volumes even as her words were momentarily suspended.

"Where?" Angel's inquiry was gentle, a genuine concern for her well-being surfacing.

"I need to cool down, spend some time alone. Don't worry about me. You've been a big help. Just knowing someone cares..." Faith's words were heartfelt, her vulnerability on full display. Her lingering gaze held a mix of appreciation and camaraderie. With a final glance, she stood, preparing to depart. "You know, maybe I shouldn't be asking this, but do you think, if things were different, that things with you and me'd be different, too?" Her voice held a mix of curiosity and longing, her desire for understanding evident.

"We'll never know," Angel's response was tinged with a hint of regret, his voice carrying a sense of finality.

"Right. How could we?" Faith's words were tinged with a touch of resignation, her acceptance of the uncertainties of their past and present clear.

"Take care of yourself," Angel's voice was filled with a genuine concern that transcended their immediate conversation.

Faith nodded, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Lifetime of practice," her words held a mix of self-awareness and determination. With a gentle kiss on Angel's cheek, she bid him farewell.

In the garden outside, Buffy stood as a silent observer to the scene unfolding before her. The complex emotions of confusion and heartbreak danced across her face as she watched Angel and Faith engage in conversation. From her vantage point, their intimacy was evident, even if their words remained unheard. Her expression, a canvas of unspoken turmoil, revealed the depth of her emotional turmoil. With a heavy sigh, she turned away and left, her heartache left to linger in the shadows.

March 17, 1999 – Wednesday

Gateway High School

In the library's ambiance of focused intensity, Giles and Wesley delved deep into their research, seeking answers that remained frustratingly elusive. Giles emerged from his office, his expression reflecting a mix of weariness and frustration.

"Find anything?" Wesley's inquiry held a trace of hope, his own dedication evident.

Giles shook his head, his voice carrying a touch of exasperation. "A six-course banquet of nothing. With a scoop of sod all as a palette cleanser."

"I've had no better luck. There must be something about this Ascension somewhere," Wesley's voice held a tinge of frustration, his commitment to solving the puzzle unwavering.

"Perhaps I should contact the Council, run a search through the main branch –" Giles began to consider, his voice tinged with a hint of practicality.

Wesley's swift response held a mix of caution and pride. "No, I don't - It should be I that…" He paused, collecting his thoughts. "The council knows you work with the Charmed Ones. But they don't know I'm letting you work with me."

Giles' nod conveyed both understanding and agreement. "I'm not about to burst into glorious song about it myself. But why don't you give them a call."

"I think the most expedient plan–" Wesley's voice shifted to a tone of consideration, his strategic mind at work. Just then, the library doors swung open, and Buffy entered, her presence a blend of determination and urgency.

"—is to get the Books of Ascension themselves. Buffy, you and Faith must find that demon. And soon," Wesley's directive was clear, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"I'll go back to the scene, see if I can track him," Buffy stated, her readiness to take action evident.

"Wait for Faith," Wesley's interjection held a note of caution, his voice tempered with a practical concern for teamwork and safety.

Buffy's head shook in response to the prospect of waiting for Faith's arrival. "That could be hours. The girl makes Godot look punctual. I'll just –"

"Buffy, this is a job that requires the both of you," Wesley's words were both pragmatic and directive, his voice firm in its assertion. The importance of collaboration and the challenges they faced underscored his point. "This demon could be anywhere, and if these books are as important as he says he has good reason to hide. Finding him is going to be extremely difficult."

The air shifted as Xander's unexpected entrance disrupted the conversation, infusing an element of surprise into the room. "Found your demon."

"Fashion tip, Wes? The mouth looks better closed," Buffy's teasing remark carried a note of camaraderie, her familiarity with Xander evident.

In a simple yet meaningful gesture, Xander handed Buffy a piece of paper bearing an address. "Got the address. Beat it out of Willy the Snitch personally," he declared, his pride evident in the accomplishment.

Buffy regarded Xander with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "You beat up Willy?" Her skepticism was evident in her voice, tinged with a touch of disbelief.

"Sure. Well, actually, let's just say I applied some pressure. Or, more accurately, that I asked politely. And then, okay, I bribed him," Xander's words held a touch of self-deprecating humor, revealing his ingenuity in obtaining the information.

"How much?" Buffy's curiosity was piqued, her voice a blend of amusement and skepticism.

"Twenty-eight bucks," Xander's answer was tinged with a mixture of nonchalance and amusement. He displayed a rare blend of humor and effectiveness in his unconventional methods. "Does the Council reimburse for that stuff?"

"Did you get a receipt?" Giles' dry quip added a touch of humor to the situation.

"Damn," Xander's playful exclamation held a note of playful regret, the exchange showcasing the camaraderie that often permeated their interactions.

Buffy's voice carried a hint of familiarity as she offered her insights. "I know this. It's down by the bus station. Not the nicest part of town."

"Again, you see?" Giles' voice was laced with a touch of jest, his dry humor surfacing. "No standards. Any self-respecting demon should be living in a pit of filth or a nice crypt."

Buffy's exit was accompanied by a playful retort. "I'll be sure to mention that."

"Mention what?" Faith's voice carried curiosity as she entered the room, her presence exuding a confident energy. The sight of Faith walking in, her demeanor saucy and self-assured, introduced a dynamic shift to the atmosphere.

Buffy's response held a mix of determination and assertion. "Think I can handle this one solo."

Faith's playful banter continued, her tone teasing as she slipped her arm through Buffy's. Their interaction carried an air of camaraderie and familiarity. "Why should you get all the fun? Share, that's fair."

"Right," Buffy's tone held a hint of agreement, her response encapsulating the essence of their exchange. "We found our demon."

"Oh. Well, let's go look him up," Faith's response was casual, her readiness to embark on the mission evident.

With purposeful strides, Buffy exited the library, her steps carrying an air of determination. Faith's shrug and subsequent departure conveyed her intent to follow suit, her actions seamlessly aligning with her counterpart's lead.

Baybreeze Inn

The atmosphere shifted as Buffy and Faith entered the room, their presence a blend of readiness and cautiousness. The door creaked open, a subtle sound that underscored the gravity of their mission. Darkness enveloped the space, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of anticipation and tension.

Buffy's movements were deliberate, her guard raised as she navigated the shadows with slow and measured steps. In contrast, Faith led the way, her confidence evident as she moved forward, a fearless trailblazer.

"Faith. Careful," Buffy's voice held a note of caution, her concern for her fellow Slayer tangible in her words.

"Right," Faith's response carried a touch of nonchalance, her readiness to comply with Buffy's guidance evident. She adjusted her demeanor, acting with the caution the situation demanded.

As they moved further into the room, their exchange took on a more personal tone, a momentary respite from the tension. "Missed you last night," Buffy's voice was soft, carrying a note of genuine sentiment.

"Yeah, well, I was uh, patrolling. No shortage of scum you got to watch in San Francisco, right?" Faith's words held a veneer of casualness, masking the deeper layers of her thoughts.

Buffy's response carried a sense of understanding, her tone gently acknowledging the façade. "So I've heard. Hold up." Her abrupt halt signaled a shift in their focus, as both Slayers' senses were attuned to the nuances of the environment.

In the shadows, a vague silhouette emerged, a sight that sparked a surge of alertness within them. Could it be a body, still potentially clinging to life? The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the truth to be revealed.

Faith's actions were swift, instinctive. Without a glance, her hand found the light switch behind the refrigerator, banishing the darkness and casting a harsh light upon the scene.

Buffy's response was twofold – a double-take that betrayed her surprise at Faith's knowledge of the switch's location. She had a moment to ponder this mystery before her attention was drawn back to the more pressing matter at hand. Before them lay Skyler's lifeless body, a stark reminder of the danger that loomed.

"Somebody got here first," Buffy's voice carried a tinge of somber resignation, her assessment echoing the weight of the situation.

Faith's practical analysis followed, her words holding a sense of inevitability. "Bettin' they got the Books, too. Some hit."

Buffy's assessment transcended the immediate circumstances, her tone hinting at a deeper understanding. "This wasn't just a hit. This was someone's idea of a party."

Faith's pragmatic perspective interjected, offering another layer of insight. "Maybe the guy put up a fight."

Buffy's nod conveyed agreement, her mind considering the various possibilities. "Could be..."

Their shared resolve came to the forefront as Faith decisively voiced their next course of action. "We got to get gone. Come on. Nothing we can do here now." The weight of their discovery hung in the air, the finality of the situation sinking in.

With a simple invitation, Faith turned to leave, her posture confident and resolute. "You coming?"

Buffy's response was swift, her movements mirroring Faith's lead. They exited the room, the door closing behind them with a muted thud, leaving the scene of uncertainty behind.

March 18, 1999 – Wednesday

Gateway High School

Buffy's attempt at focusing on the book was evident, but her distracted state lingered like a cloud over her thoughts, obscuring her concentration.

"Are you okay?" Willow's voice carried genuine concern, the thread of worry weaving through her words.

Buffy's response was a startle, the interruption jolting her back to the present. "Huh? Yeah. I can't stop thinking about that demon."

Willow's understanding was empathetic as she acknowledged the source of Buffy's distraction. "Because of him being chopped up into little bits and all?"

Buffy's reply was tinged with a touch of dry humor, a brief attempt to lighten the weight of the conversation. "Yeah, Will, let's keep bringing up visuals."

Willow's expression carried a mix of concern and empathy. "Are you sure that's all?"

"It really was plenty..." Buffy's words were tinged with a touch of sarcasm, a hint of her coping mechanism shining through.

Willow let out a soft sigh, her concern not abating. "Yeah, but you seem a little on edge lately. Is anything..."

Buffy's dismissive response was swift, an attempt to deflect the probing questions. "It's nothing."

Willow's gaze held a mixture of disbelief and determination. Her silent look conveyed a clear message: 'I don't believe you.'

The tension in the air continued as Buffy's evasion met Willow's unyielding stare. "It's nothing," Buffy reiterated, her tone carrying a hint of frustration as she gave in to Willow's persistence. The emotional undercurrents of their exchange spoke to the depth of their friendship. "All right, all right, stop with the third degree! It's Faith."

Willow's inquiry remained gentle, her voice a blend of curiosity and understanding. "What about her?"

Buffy's admission carried a vulnerable undertone, her words revealing a layer of insecurity that had been gnawing at her. "It's just... I went to Angel's the other night and Faith was there. They seemed kind of... intimate," her voice wavered, carrying a mixture of uncertainty and unease.

The concern in Willow's eyes was immediate, her empathy extending to her words. "No way. I know what you're thinking and no way."

Buffy's response was a mix of agreement and a touch of self-correction, as if trying to counterbalance her own fears. "You're right. Faith wouldn't do that."

Willow's rebuttal held a humorous edge, her words spoken with conviction. "Faith would totally do that! Faith was built to do that! She's the do that girl!"

The humor in the room offered a fleeting reprieve from the weight of the conversation, a moment of levity in the midst of Buffy's emotional turmoil. "Uh, comfort, remember to comfort..." Buffy's words came out in a near-rush, a reminder to herself to stay grounded.

"Please! Does Angel come up to Faith's standards for a guy? Let's see... is he breathing?" Willow's logic was laced with sarcasm, her voice gently teasing.

"Actually, no." Buffy's retort held a hint of amusement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Willow's conviction remained steady, her voice carrying a warm reassurance. "Wow, she doesn't even have that standard. But Buffy: Angel. There's no way he'd do that. You're the only thing in the world to him."

Buffy's sigh carried the weight of contemplation, her thoughts lingering on the complexities of her relationship with Angel. "Sometimes I wonder... I guess he and Faith have a lot in common. There's so much he doesn't tell me."

Willow's response held a note of wisdom, her voice gentle yet firm. "Oh, but it's so clear. The way he feels… Buffy, I too know the love of a taciturn man. You got to look at their actions."

Buffy's admission was accompanied by a hint of vulnerability, her voice carrying a subdued note, "I was."

"Well, what did he say?" Willow's question held a mix of curiosity and concern, her gaze focused on Buffy as she waited for an answer.

Buffy's response was tinged with a touch of self-deprecation, her words accompanied by a sheepish smile. "Say? You mean when I straightforwardly asked him what was going on?"

Willow's inquiry remained gentle, a nudge for further information. "So ya bailed?"

Buffy's nod held a blend of admission and explanation, her voice carrying a trace of embarrassment. "I just couldn't deal... not right there, what if..."

Willow's interruption was swift and resolute, her words carrying a no-nonsense tone. "Enough. Stop with the crazy, go talk to Angel."

Buffy's protest was met with Willow's unwavering insistence. "But I –"

"Go! I give you leave to go." Willow's command was accompanied by an imperious point, her focus unwavering even as she spoke without turning her gaze towards Buffy.

Buffy's compliance was swift, her movements aligning with Willow's directive. "Thanks," she said, gratitude coloring her voice as she prepared to leave.

Willow's smile held a touch of satisfaction, a small affirmation of the advice she had offered and the nudge she had given. As Buffy walked away, Willow's gaze remained fixed ahead, her satisfaction a subtle presence in the air around her.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

In the library, a somber atmosphere hung over the group as they gathered to discuss the troubling loss of the Books of Ascension. Buffy's concern was evident in her furrowed brow, her eyes reflecting the weight of the situation.

"Our enemy has us at a disadvantage. We seem consistently to be one step behind him. Now he has the Books of Ascension. We need to take definitive action," Wesley's voice carried a mix of urgency and frustration, his words punctuating the tense silence.

Cordelia's distraction broke through the intensity, her admiration shining through in her voice. "You have the greatest voice," she said, her gaze fixed on Wesley. "Have you ever thought about doing books on tape?"

Xander's comment was a humorous reminder of their current predicament, a brief attempt to lighten the heavy mood. "Way to focus, CC."

Wesley's response was a mix of exasperation and determination. "Yes, let's, let's stay on track. We'll need everyone working together here." He turned his attention to Buffy. "Where are your cousins?"

Buffy's commitment to the task was evident as she took the responsibility upon herself. "I'll call them," she informed him.

The mention of Angel brought a shadow to the room, the concern over his whereabouts palpable. "Where is Angel?" Wesley's question carried a sense of urgency, mirroring Buffy's own worries.

Buffy's response held a note of uncertainty, her voice a reflection of her own unease. "I don't know. I went to the Mansion, he wasn't there."

The focus shifted to Faith, her absence adding another layer of worry to the mix. "And Faith?" Wesley's inquiry spoke to the growing sense of urgency and the need for a united effort.

"She's missing too," Buffy's words carried a weight of concern, her gaze shifting as if searching for answers within the room.

"Which means nothing. Two unconnected events," Willow's words carried a hint of comfort knowing Buffy's heart.

Seeking guidance, Buffy turned to Giles, her eyes conveying a mixture of worry and determination. "What do we do?"

Giles, ever the voice of reason, responded with a measured tone. "Buffy, I think you should try to retrieve the Books of Ascension. Try the Mayor's office, but be damned careful. Don't confront the Mayor; we don't know a thing about him."

Buffy's nod was both an acknowledgment and a commitment to action. "I'll go home and stock up on weapons. Slip into something break-and-enterish."

The group dynamic took an amusing turn as Cordelia chimed in, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Excuse me, I believe Wesley is running this meeting."

"That's quite all right," Wesley's response was gracious, a nod to Cordelia's comment before turning to Willow for her input. "Willow?"

Willow's admission carried a hint of frustration, her tone indicating the challenges she had faced. "It's all bad news. By the time I got through the encryptions the files were empty. He must have seen me coming."

Oz, the quiet observer, offered a practical solution, his voice calm and measured. "What about the Hall of Records? Go to the source."

Wesley's approval was evident as he acknowledged the suggestion. "Good idea. There must be information on the Mayor there."

Giles directed the group's efforts with a firm but steady voice. "Wesley, why don't you take the group there and start looking."

"Right," Wesley agreed, his voice carrying a sense of authority as he took charge of the situation.

Cordelia's determination was unwavering, her voice laced with a touch of playfulness. "I'm in Wesley's group!"

Giles' response was a reminder of the practicality of the situation. "There's just the one group."

Cordelia's insistence remained, her voice holding a hint of determination as she clarified her stance. "Yes, and I'm in it."

As the group began to disperse, Xander's desire to deviate from the plan was met with understanding. His voice carried a mix of casualness and humor. "Anyone mind if I skip the trip? I'd rather cruise town, keep my ear to the ground. And I think five's a crowd."

Cordelia's agreement was swift and amusing, her voice aligned with Xander's sentiment. "It really is."

Giles' instructions for communication were met with acknowledgment, Buffy's voice reflecting her compliance. "Anyone finds out anything, they check in with me." He turned to Buffy. "Buffy, can you send Prue, Piper or Phoebe here to help me with research?"

Buffy's affirmation held a note of assurance. "Sure, Giles."

Oz's declaration of his role brought a sense of continuity to the conversation, his voice calm and collected. "I'll drive."

As the group members departed, Oz offered a summary of their consensus, his tone carrying a touch of humor. "They all liked your plan."

The quiet exchange between Buffy and Giles held a depth of emotion that transcended words. Giles' final words carried a blend of care and caution. "Be careful." And then, in a swirl of fiery flames, Buffy disappeared, leaving behind a sense of anticipation and determination in the room.

Halliwell Manor

At the Manor, the doorbell's chime broke the silence. Phoebe answered the door with a welcoming smile, her expression brightening at the sight of Angel and Faith standing before her. "Faith. Angel," she greeted, her voice carrying warmth and familiarity.

Angel's response was cordial as he returned the greeting. "Hi, Phoebe. Nice to see you. Buffy home?"

Phoebe's nod conveyed both affirmation and information. "Upstairs," she replied, offering a subtle indication of Buffy's current location. Her curiosity was evident in the next question, a blend of supernatural awareness and sisterly concern. "Vampire?"

Angel's wry smile hinted at his own self-awareness. "Only vampire here's me, Phoebe." A hint of playful charm lingered in his tone, paired with his next remark that took a lighthearted turn. "Say. You... change your hair?"

Phoebe's nod affirmed the change, her gaze briefly flickering to her locks as she explained. "Stupid spell a while back decided to get rid of the dye for me."

Angel's genuine compliment was both unexpected and appreciated. "It looks nice, though." The warm smile he directed her way held a touch of charisma, a gesture of genuine appreciation that accompanied his steps as he followed Faith up the stairs.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

In Buffy's room, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as Buffy meticulously arranged stakes into her weapons pack. The room held a tangible sense of purpose, as if every item being carefully placed held the weight of their impending mission. Her crossbow found its place slung over her back, ready for action.

The entrance of Angel and Faith introduced a shift in the energy, their presence marking a turning point. "Knock knock," Faith's voice held an undertone of shared understanding.

Buffy's voice held a mixture of concern and curiosity as she inquired about their whereabouts. "Where've you guys been?"

Angel's response was laced with a touch of relief, his gaze fixed on Buffy with an intensity that spoke of his worry. "Looking for you. Good thing we found you before you left." His actions echoed his words as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Buffy's forehead.

Faith's interruption brought with it the tangible presence of the Books of Ascension, the very artifacts that could turn the tide of their battle. Her announcement was concise, but the weight of their accomplishment resonated within her voice. "We got the Books."

Angel's nod was a silent confirmation, his agreement underscoring Faith's statement. "They're at the Mansion."

With a sense of unity, Faith's practical approach to teamwork was evident as she turned to leave, her footsteps echoing a call to action. "We'd take 'em to Giles ourselves, but I think strength in numbers is the way to go. Come on."

Buffy's response was swift as she shouldered her weapons bag, her readiness echoing her determination. The exchange between her and Angel was laden with unspoken connections, the shared history and feelings that seemed to linger beneath the surface.

Angel's offer to carry her weapons held a touch of warmth, a subtle display of care and support as he smiled. "I can take those for you."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

In the foyer, the air was filled with a sense of purpose and resolve as Buffy prepared to embark on her mission alongside Angel and Faith. The click of Buffy's boots against the floor resonated with determination, each step a reminder of the weight of their responsibilities.

Amidst this charged atmosphere, Prue's voice cut through, a touch of playful concern interwoven with genuine care. "Sure you don't need a sweater?" Her words held a sisterly affection, an attempt to inject a bit of warmth into the gravity of the situation.

Buffy's response was punctuated with a hint of exasperation, a familiar dynamic between sisters. "Prue."

Angel's voice followed suit, a blend of reassurance and confidence as he joined the exchange. "Don't worry, Prue. We'll have her back before you know it." His words carried a sense of unwavering commitment, a promise to safeguard the person they all held dear.

As Prue stood on the porch, her gesture of sipping tea was not just an idle action, but a testament to the interconnectedness of their lives. The porch itself became a symbol of safety, a haven from which she could watch over Buffy and Angel as they ventured into the dark with Faith.

With a sense of unity and camaraderie, Buffy, Angel, and Faith walked out of sight, the fading sound of their footsteps echoing a shared determination. Prue's smile, tinged with both hope and a touch of playfulness, remained fixed in place as she turned to Phoebe, her question imbued with a sense of sisterly understanding. "Think Faith bought it?" The question held a hint of mischief, an acknowledgment of the roles they were playing in this intricate dance of trust and strategy.

Phoebe, leaning against a nearby wall, raised an eyebrow as she returned Prue's smile. Their sisterly bond was evident in the way they exchanged glances, their unspoken communication a testament to the depth of their connection.

"For now," Phoebe replied knowing that Buffy and Angel were trying to get Faith to reveal that Faith had switched sides and was now working for the Mayor. "Do you think Buffy and Angel will get any information out of her about the Mayor?"

Angel's Mansion

Buffy, Angel, and Faith stepped into the mansion, the heavy door creaking softly behind them. The air inside was thick with tension, almost as if the very walls held their breath. Angel found his place at the table, his fingers absently tracing the cold, unforgiving chains coiled upon its surface. The chains swung with a haunting slowness, a silent reminder of the darkness that had once consumed him. Faith's restless energy led her to circle the room, her gaze fixated on the shadows that danced along the edges.

"Okay. Let's get the books somewhere safe. Where you keeping them?" Buffy's voice cut through the palpable unease, a frail attempt to anchor herself in the midst of uncertainty.

"Actually, there's been a slight change in plan, Buff," Angel's words hung in the air, heavy with a new weight.

"Buff? Did you just call me... Angel, what's the matter with you?" Buffy's voice wavered, a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Nothing. Matter of fact..." Angel's gaze lifted, meeting Buffy's eyes, and in that moment, his features contorted into the grotesque visage of his vampire form. The shock of the transformation rippled through Buffy, a wave of disbelief crashing over her fragile composure. "I haven't felt this good in a long time."

"Angel?!" Buffy's worry was a thread woven tightly through her voice, a tremor that betrayed her attempt at bravery.

"You know, I never properly thanked you. For sending me to Hell," Angel's words hung in the air like a chilling confession, the room seemingly growing colder with each syllable.

Buffy's shock was a physical force, her head shaking slowly as she struggled to absorb the gravity of his words. "No..." Her voice was a whisper, a plea for the reality before her to unravel and reveal itself as a nightmare.

And then, like a haunting specter, Angel lunged at Buffy, his grip tightening around her. She was paralyzed, her fear rendering her incapable of the fight that should have coursed through her veins. Tears glistened in her eyes, shimmering with unshed sorrow, a fragile barrier holding back an ocean of emotions threatening to engulf her. "Yeah," Angel's voice was a cruel melody, punctuating the silence with a sinister crescendo. "And I'm just wondering. Where do I start? A card? Fruit basket? Evisceration?"

"Angel..." Buffy's voice quivered, a single word that held the weight of their shared history, their love and pain intermingled in a complex tapestry that fate had woven for them.

"I know what you're thinking," Angel's voice quivered with a mixture of resignation and a hint of desperation. His words hung heavy in the stifling air, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm between hope and harsh reality. "Maybe there's still some good, deep down inside of me, that still remembers, and loves you, if only you could reach me. Then again... we have reality."

Buffy's heart raced, a wild stallion pounding against the confines of her chest. She tore her gaze away from Angel's tortured eyes, her resolve hardening even as her heart threatened to betray her. "I'll kill you before I let you touch me," her voice was a blade, sharp and unwavering, slicing through the heavy silence of the room. Her eyes remained locked on Angel's form, every fiber of her being willing her defiance to radiate a shield of protection.

With measured steps, Buffy retreated, the weight of her determination guiding her as she reached for a stake, a lifeline in her grasp. "Faith, we got to get out of here. Now," the urgency in Buffy's voice was a lifeline thrown to her ally, a plea that carried the weight of their shared danger.

"Speak for yourself, B. Me? I like it here," Faith's words rippled through the tension like a stone dropped into a still pond. Buffy's gaze snapped to Faith, a disbelieving tremor coursing through her as she faced the unexpected response.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within Buffy's chest, a storm of betrayal, confusion, and disbelief clashing against the foundation of her trust. She turned to lock eyes with the unnervingly serene Faith, a silent plea for explanation etched into her features.

And in that heartbeat, that vulnerable moment of turned attention, the world shifted. The blow struck, the sound of impact a cruel punctuation mark to Angel's treacherous actions. Buffy crumpled, her consciousness stolen away as darkness closed in like a vise.

"One thing I learned about Buffy..." Angel's voice slithered through the hushed room, dripping with a cruel amusement that echoed like a sinister lullaby. His arm wound possessively around Faith, a tableau of malevolent victory taking shape. "She looks so cute when she's sleeping," his words were laced with a venomous tenderness, a mockery of the love that had once tied them together. And then, like a malevolent puppeteer, Angel lifted the chains, his intentions clear as he bent down to Buffy's defenseless form with the cold, unforgiving chains as his instrument of cruelty.

Hall of Records

Batches of books sprawled across tables, their pages a tapestry of ancient secrets. Willow and Oz sifted through the knowledge, their fingers tracing words that held the power to shape their reality. Wesley, immersed in his own reading, was suddenly an anchor for Cordelia, her presence a fleeting touch of comfort in the midst of esoteric mysteries.

"Hey! I know a way to make investigating the Mayor even more boring," Cordelia's voice cut through the hushed concentration, drawing everyone's attention as their gazes turned toward her. Her attempt at humor dimmed quickly. "Oh second thought, no. I don't."

In the quiet of the room, Oz's eyes caught a glint of revelation in the printed words. He leaned closer to Willow, and their shared discovery kindled a spark of excitement. "Hey."

Willow's voice held a hint of awe as she drew everyone's attention to the discovery she had unearthed. "Whoa. Big hey whoa. Guys. Check this out." They gathered around her, the gravity of her find palpable in the air as she, Oz, and the book became the center of attention. "Wow. Like father like son." The sepia-toned photograph of Richard Wilkins I from 1907 lay open before them, a portal to the past. "Says Richard Wilkins founded Acme Brewing Company in 1907. Sold it to Leopold Schmidt in 1935." (A/N)

Oz contributed to the revelation, placing a color photograph from the early 1950s alongside the sepia portrait. The two images, decades apart, captured the same face. "How about 'like exact same guy like exact same guy'?"

Wesley's analytical mind connected the dots swiftly, casting a shadow of realization over their discoveries. "Mayor Wilkins is over one hundred years old. He's not human."

The tension was momentarily shattered as a groggy voice broke through the silence. All eyes turned to the entrance to find Xander standing, his posture wobbly, his face marred by a swollen welt. "I hate to spoil the mood," Xander's voice carried a mix of weariness and urgency, "but it is so much worse than you think."

Willow's concern was a beacon, drawing her to Xander's side. "Xander! What happened to you?" Her voice trembled with worry as she reached out to him.

Xander waved off her concern, his voice laced with a mixture of pain and urgency. "You know how some people hate to say 'I told you so?' Not me. I told you so. Angel is back. In the really bad sense. And I told you so."

The gravity of Xander's words reverberated through the room. Wesley's analytical mind kicked into action once more. "Angelus has turned? Xander, this is terribly serious. Are you sure?"

A wry bitterness colored Xander's response, his voice edged with the recent memory of violence. "Gee, let me think. Kind of hard to tell, the last thing I saw was his fist."

Wesley's pragmatism surfaced again, his thoughts shifting to action. "We must contact Giles immediately."

Xander's frustration flared, a storm of emotions wrapped around his words. "Good thinking! Let's waste time with a lively debate, leave Buffy alone and see how dead she gets!"

Cordelia stepped in, a voice of reason amidst the tension. "Slow down, Xander. This isn't Wesley's fault."

Xander's retort was swift, and his blame clear. "Actually, it is. Faith was your responsibility. And guess who's Angel's new playmate."

"Faith and Angel - together?" Willow's surprise echoed the sentiment of the group.

Xander nodded, his expression a mix of concern and dark humor. "Imagine the possibilities."

Angel's Mansion

Buffy's eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy as if emerging from a dream. Before her stood Angel, a haunting mixture of familiarity and danger. His gaze held a raw emotion, a depth of feeling that transcended words. "Angel?" Her voice was a fragile thread woven with surprise and uncertainty.

"Morning, sleepyhead. You know what I just can't believe? All our time together, and we never tried chains," Angel's voice oozed with a sinister affection, a cruel twist to a sentiment that should have been warm. The clinking of chains punctuated his words as he meticulously bound Buffy to the wall, a grotesque dance of captivity. "But you can't dwell on the past. Especially with the future we have ahead." The chain tightened, and Buffy's small cry of pain hung in the air like a bitter melody, a testament to her resilience.

The room's atmosphere was suffocating, tainted by the malevolent energy that Angel and Faith radiated. Faith's voice sliced through the tension, a mocking commentary that painted a chilling picture. "Bondage looks good on you, B. The outfit's all wrong, but hey."

Buffy's voice cut through the eerie exchange, an attempt to reach the part of Faith that was still human, still capable of reason. "Faith, you don't know what you're doing."

"Really?" Faith's voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and introspection, her eyes distant as she gazed into the past. "Weird. Because something about all this just feels so right. Maybe it's one of those unhappy childhood things." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions that seemed to tug at her heart.

With a poignant sigh, she walked over to the table, her fingers tracing the contours of the black silk cloth as if it held a lifetime of memories. Slowly, as if unveiling fragments of her soul, she began to unwrap the cloth, revealing what lay beneath. "See, when I was a kid," her voice softened, tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and nostalgia, "I used to beg my mom for a dog. Didn't matter what kind, I just wanted, you know, something to love." Her gaze flickered, momentarily clouded by the shadows of the past.

"Especially after I found out the reason my mom got drunk was because she was trying to forget about my sister being kidnapped." The pain in her voice was palpable, a raw wound that had never quite healed. It was as if the memories were etched on her heart, and each word she spoke chipped away at the armor she had built around herself.

As she continued, her hand moved, almost instinctively, to Angel's chest. A great big kiss followed, a passionate exchange that spoke of both longing and a hunger for something more.

"A dog's all I wanted after that," her voice held a wistful note, a yearning for a simpler, more innocent time. "Well, that and my sister." The name rolled off her tongue with a mixture of tenderness and ache, like a whisper carried by the wind.

With a sense of finality, Faith carefully finished unwrapping the cloth, revealing the contents within. A row of glistening metal surgical tools lay before her, their cold gleam a stark contrast to the warmth of her emotions. "But Mom was so busy, you know, enjoying the drinking and passing out parts of life, that I never really got what I wanted." Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the scars that can be left by a tumultuous past.

Faith's fingers delicately held up a set of twisted, ominous-looking scalpels in one hand, their malevolent edges catching the glint of dim light, while her other hand tenderly traced Angel's contours as if to ground herself in his presence. The juxtaposition of cold, metallic instruments and the warmth of her touch against Angel's skin created an eerie yet strangely intimate atmosphere. Emotion lingered in the air like a charged current, a potent blend of desire, uncertainty, and a history that transcended words.

"Until today," Faith's voice carried a mixture of determination and a hint of something deeper, as if she had been waiting for this moment to unravel.

"Faith, listen very closely. Angel is a killer. When he's done with me, he'll turn on you," Buffy's words were a stark warning, a plea wrapped in a shroud of unease and apprehension.

Faith's gaze shifted from the instrument in her hand to Angel. Angel's shrug held a quiet acceptance, a tacit admission of his dark nature. "She's right, I probably will," his voice carried the weight of resignation, a melancholic truth that hung heavily in the air.

"Yeah? Huh. Guess we'll just have to keep you around awhile, then." Faith's words were laced with a strange mixture of defiance and curiosity, her footsteps closing the distance between herself and Buffy. The instrument she held seemed to take on a life of its own as she trailed it lightly over Buffy's jawline, down her neck, a chilling dance of anticipation.

"Before we get started, I just want you to know: if you're a screamer? Feel free," Faith's tone was equal parts playful and eerie, a disturbing undercurrent that added an unsettling dimension to the scene.

"Why, Faith? What's in it for you?" Buffy's voice trembled with a blend of confusion and disbelief, a plea for understanding in the midst of impending danger.

"What isn't? You know, I come to San Francisco, I'm a Slayer, I do my job kicking ass better than anyone, and what do I hear about, everywhere I go?" Faith's voice wavered between bitterness and vulnerability. As she leaned in closer to Buffy, their faces almost touching, the space between them seemed charged with unspoken history and unfulfilled desires. "Buffy."

"Everybody asks, 'why can't you be more like Buffy,' but did anyone ever ask if you could be more like me?" Faith's words carried a weight of years spent in the shadows, a longing to be seen and acknowledged for who she was beyond comparisons.

"I know I didn't," Angel's voice cut through the charged silence, a simple statement that held a world of complexity, a reminder that in this tangled web of emotions and intentions, there were no easy answers.

Faith's nod was like a heavy acknowledgement, laden with the burdens of resentment and unfulfilled expectations. "You get the Watcher, you get the family, you get your little Scooby Gang, what do I get? Jack squat!" Her words were punctuated by a bitter edge, a simmering frustration that had been festering for far too long. The room felt charged with the intensity of her emotions, a storm ready to unleash its tempest.

"Faith. Listen to me..." Buffy's voice carried a mix of urgency and compassion, a plea to bridge the gap between them, to reach out and offer some semblance of understanding.

"Why? So you can impart some special Buffy wisdom? Is that it? You think you're better than me? Do you?" Faith's voice was laced with defiance and a kind of desperate yearning for validation. The words were like knives, each one cutting through the air with a sharp intensity.

"I am." Buffy's response was a declaration, a statement of self-assuredness that hung in the air like a heavy truth. In that moment, everything seemed to freeze, as if time itself had come to a standstill. Faith's slow turn to face Buffy was a silent admission of defeat, of realizing that the emotional battlefield they were traversing was one Buffy had already conquered.

Buffy's face remained a mask of calm, her gaze direct and unwavering, like a steady anchor in the midst of a turbulent sea. "Always have been," her words held a resonance that seemed to echo with years of experience, of lessons learned through trials and hardships.

"Uh... maybe you didn't notice - Angel's with me," Faith's voice wavered, a feeble attempt to assert her own worth in a world that seemed to favor Buffy.

"And how'd you get him, Faith? Magic? You cast some kind of spell, because in the real world, Angel would never touch you, and you know it," Buffy's words were a painful truth, a harsh mirror reflecting the illusions Faith had woven around herself.

Faith's frustration boiled over, erupting in a violent strike against Buffy. The sound of impact was like a thunderclap, a release of pent-up anger and resentment. Buffy's head turned, but her demeanor remained eerily composed, her voice still carrying that calm, steady tone.

"You have to tie me up. It's the only way you could ever beat me. There's a word for people like you, Faith. It's 'loser'," Buffy's words were like a knife twisted deeper into Faith's wounds, exposing vulnerabilities she had tried so hard to hide.

That was the breaking point. Faith's movements were swift and decisive as she rushed toward Buffy, the scalpel poised dangerously close to Buffy's face. "Uh-uh - you're just trying to make me mad so I'll kill you - but I'm too smart for that. Stick around," Faith's voice was a mixture of defiance and desperation, a plea for a connection she seemed to crave even as she pushed it away.

"For what? You and your boss's lame 'Ascension?' Like I couldn't stop it," Buffy's retort held a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a firm belief in her own abilities that cut through the chaos of emotions swirling around them.

"You can't," Faith's voice wavered with a mixture of defiance and desperation, a last stand against the storm that was brewing.

"I will," Buffy's response was firm, the resolve in her voice unwavering as she stared down the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

Faith's head shook in a gesture that seemed almost mournful, a tremor of disbelief at the audacity of hope. "Keep dreaming. No one can stop the Ascension! Mayor's got it wired, B. Come Graduation day, he's getting paid. I'll be sitting at his right hand - assuming he has hands after the transformation, I'm not too clear on that - and all your lame ass friends'll be kibbles and bits. Think about that while your boyfriend's cutting into you."

A strained silence hung in the air, heavy with the weight of impending doom. Buffy's words pierced through the atmosphere, sharp and incisive. "I never knew you had so much rage in you." Her voice carried a hint of sadness, a lament for the path that had brought them to this point.

"What can I say? I'm the world's best actor," Faith's response held a bitter edge, a twisted admission of the façade she had donned to shield her vulnerabilities. Her gaze shifted to Angel, a smile curving her lips, a fleeting connection that held an air of intimacy.

Angel's smile in return was a fragile echo, a sentiment shared in the midst of turmoil. "Second best."

For a moment, a fragile equilibrium seemed to settle, a sense of camaraderie in the face of a common adversary. But then, like a shattering glass, Faith's smile faltered, her world crumbling as reality struck her with a force she hadn't anticipated.

"Graduation day. Think she left anything out?" Buffy's question was like a reckoning, an unveiling of truths long hidden.

"I think we know everything she knows," Angel's response was measured, his words carrying a note of assurance that belied the chaos unfolding.

"Can I say one thing?" Buffy's voice was a quiet plea, a moment of vulnerability in the midst of chaos. With a dramatic gesture, she dropped her chains, the sound like the fall of a gauntlet.

"Psyche," the single word hung in the air like a sudden gust of wind, a revelation that sent shockwaves through the room.

"You played me? You played me?!" Faith's voice was a crescendo of anger and betrayal, her world unraveling at the seams.

In a dramatic clash of fate, the atmosphere in the mansion transformed. Just then, crash! The entrance was stormed by a whirlwind of emotions materialized in the forms of Wesley, Cordelia, Xander, Willow, and Oz. Their presence was a chaotic eruption, the culmination of shared concern and urgency.

"Buffy - Faith's bad!" Xander's words carried an air of urgency, a stark reminder of the impending danger they all faced.

"Yeah, and you're annoying," Faith's retort was a volatile blend of sarcasm and defiance. In a swift motion, she seized Angel, her grip strong and commanding, and hurled him into Xander. The collision sent Xander crashing to the ground, a pawn in a tumultuous game.

Xander scrambled to regain his footing, a cross held aloft as a shield against Angel's advance.

Faith's next move was a swift and calculated one. She seized the scalpel with an air of deadly precision, her aim unwavering as she hurled it toward Buffy. The scalpel's trajectory was a testament to her skill, yet Buffy's response was equally impressive. Without flinching, she caught the scalpel in her grip, a silent challenge to the danger that surrounded them.

In a fluid motion, Buffy hurled the scalpel back at Faith, her aim true and her resolve unyielding. The scalpel found its mark, embedding itself deep in Faith's shoulder. The pain was a stark reminder of mortality, a reminder that even Slayers were not invulnerable.

Faith's enraged reaction was a testament to her fierce determination. She tore the scalpel from her shoulder, the pain fueling her anger as she rushed at Buffy with a vengeful determination. The clash that followed was a dance of blades and wills, a battle that transcended mere physicality.

Buffy's swift evasions were a testament to her agility, her training, and her unyielding spirit. The exchange was a blur of movement, a dance of danger that held the potential for fatal consequences. A punch connected, the impact resonating with a burst of energy as Faith's face absorbed Buffy's blow.

Faith countered with a skillful kick, toppling Buffy's legs out from under her. The room was a canvas of motion and tension, each move a calculated step in a deadly game.

But Buffy was not one to remain down for long. With a fluid roll, she regained her footing, her retaliation swift and unforgiving. Faith was sent reeling backward, the impact a testament to Buffy's unyielding determination.

The two Slayers clashed once more, a whirlwind of fury and resolve. Their convergence was a symphony of blades and wills, a clash that held the weight of their shared destiny.

As the intense showdown unfolded, the gang watched in a mixture of awe and fear, frozen by the intensity of the moment. Their breaths held in anticipation, they dared not interfere in this battle that was more than just physical.

"What are you going to do, B? Kill me - you become me. You're not ready for that..." Faith's words hung in the air like a haunting echo, a reminder of the delicate balance that existed between light and darkness.

Faith's unexpected move caught Buffy off guard. A quick, surprising kiss landed on Buffy's lips, a paradoxical gesture of defiance and intimacy. As Faith pulled away, her words carried a sense of foreboding, a hint of a future that had yet to unfold. "Yet."

With that, Faith bolted for the door, a retreating figure in the aftermath of a storm. Buffy remained rooted in place, her gaze steady and contemplative, the battle still echoing in her eyes.

Amid the tension and chaos, the gang's voices broke through. "Are you all right?" Willow's concern was palpable, an anchor in the sea of turmoil as Buffy's gaze shifted toward Angel, a silent exchange of emotions and unspoken thoughts.

March 19, 1999 – Thursday

Gateway High School

In the library, the atmosphere was heavy with a sense of mystique, the low lights casting shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with the secrets hidden within the walls. Giles stood before the enigmatic Shaman, an air of quiet determination about him.

"The task is finished," the Shaman's voice carried an otherworldly cadence, a reminder of the mystical forces that were at play.

Giles' nod was a blend of gratitude and respect. "Yes. Thank you for coming to me. And for that rather effective light show you put on." His words were laced with a touch of wryness, a subtle acknowledgement of the Shaman's theatrical display.

"This restores the balance between us, Rupert Giles. My debt to you is repaid now in full. Do not call upon me again," the Shaman's words held a finality, a closing of a chapter in their shared interaction.

"I shan't. Peace with you," Giles' response was a formal yet heartfelt farewell, a nod to the connection they had forged, however brief and enigmatic.

"And with you," the Shaman's response carried an air of tranquility as he faded into the darkness, his presence dissipating like a wisp of smoke.

As the Shaman vanished from sight, Giles turned to face the group that had been observing the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. The library seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the moment lingering in the air.

"His debt to you is repaid? What did you do?" Willow's voice was filled with awe, her curiosity piqued by the cryptic nature of the conversation.

"I introduced him to his wife," Giles' words carried a mixture of humor and sentimentality, a glimpse into the personal connection he had established with the enigmatic figure.

"Well I for one protest. You pitted Slayer against Slayer in a dangerous charade that could have gotten both killed. Without informing me. I'm telling the Council," Wesley's voice was a blend of indignation and concern, his dedication to protocol and order coming to the forefront.

Giles' nod was a blend of agreement and resignation, his expression a reflection of the weight of the situation. "Yes, I think you should. We have a rogue slayer on our hands. I can't think of anything more dangerous."

"At least now we know..." Buffy's voice held a mixture of reassurance and contemplation, as if finding a silver lining in the midst of uncertainty.

Giles' nod was one of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the revelations that had come to light. "And we know a little more about the Ascension."

"Graduation Day... That's a big scary un-fun, but at least Angel's not bad. And that's good, right?" Willow's words carried a touch of optimism, a reminder that not all was lost in the midst of the impending danger.

Xander's response was a blend of sarcasm and humor, his head shaking in mock disbelief. "Yes, I feel so much better knowing he broke my face in the 'good' way. It's a 'good' bruise!"

"He was only acting, Xander," Buffy's voice was a mixture of exasperation and amusement, a reminder of the surreal nature of the situations they often found themselves in. Her gaze then shifted to Giles, her expression more serious. "There is something else. Possibly a way of redeeming Faith if we can do it that is."

Giles' attention was fully focused on Buffy, his anticipation palpable. "What?" he asked, the word laden with a sense of hope.

"She mentioned she had a sister that was kidnapped," Buffy continued, her voice carrying a note of contemplation. "We find that sister…"

Giles' understanding was swift and profound, his gaze holding a glimmer of realization. "Maybe she can reach Faith in a way none of us could ever do."

Faith's Apartment

In the dimly lit room, the Mayor's voice was like a smooth melody, carrying an air of comfort as he conversed with Faith, who sat on her bed, lost in her thoughts. "Well, you win some, you lose some. From where I'm sitting, it's batting average that counts. So, you lost some friends."

"Wouldn't exactly call them friends," Faith's voice was tinged with a touch of bitterness, a hint of vulnerability that belied her tough exterior.

"So then what are you worried about? Chin up. You don't see me looking disappointed, do you? Heck no. Know why?" The Mayor's words were like a gentle reminder, an attempt to lift Faith's spirits. His presence seemed to cast a shadow of assurance in the room as Faith gazed at him.

"Because I know you'll always have me, Faith. I'm the best and most important friend you'll ever have," his voice held a mixture of confidence and manipulation, a sly attempt to strengthen the bond between them. But Faith's downcast expression remained, her thoughts seemingly lost in a sea of uncertainty.

"Besides, once the Ascension starts, that 'in crowd' you're so concerned about? Hoo! They'll be lucky if there's enough of 'em left to fill a pothole. Promise." The Mayor's words were a blend of dark humor and a chilling prediction, a reminder of the power he held over the impending events.

But Faith's sadness persisted, a tangible weight that seemed to hang in the air like a stormcloud.

The Mayor's mind raced, his thoughts weaving through possibilities. "Still unhappy? Okey-doke. I've got two words that are going to take all the pain away." His voice was filled with a giddy excitement as he leaned in close to Faith, his amusement barely contained. And then, in a hushed whisper, he revealed his solution, "Miniature. Golf." His eyebrows wiggled playfully, his tone hopeful. "You like?"

Faith's response was a shake of her head, her despondence stubbornly holding its grip. "You know what would make me happy?"

The Mayor's expression softened, his eyes holding a hint of resignation as he remembered the deal he had struck with Faith, a promise to find her sister. "I'm looking, Faith. I'll find her for you. I promise." His words held a sense of reassurance, a glimpse of the vulnerability that existed beneath his charismatic exterior. The promise was a fragile thread connecting them, a glimmer of hope in the midst of darkness.

Angel's Mansion

As Buffy entered the mansion, the atmosphere seemed to carry the lingering traces of the previous night's events. She picked up the chains that had held her captive, her fingers tracing the cold, unyielding metal as if trying to grasp the weight of the emotions that had accompanied them.

"How you doing?" Angel's voice was a gentle reassurance, a lifeline extended to her in the midst of her turmoil.

"Been better," Buffy's response held a touch of weariness, a glimpse into the internal struggles that had left their mark on her.

Angel's nod was a mixture of understanding and respect. "Not hard to believe. You were a real soldier last night, Buffy." His words held a note of admiration, a recognition of her strength in the face of adversity.

"That's me. Just one of the troops," Buffy's voice carried a hint of self-deprecation, a reminder of the sacrifices she often made for the greater good.

"I know how hard it was for you," Angel's words were filled with empathy, a quiet acknowledgment of the emotional toll that had been exacted from her.

"I doubt that," Buffy's response held a note of skepticism, as if doubting anyone could truly understand the intricacies of her experiences.

Angel's nod was solemn, his gaze steady as he sought to convey the depth of his feelings. "If there's anything I can do to make it better..." His hopeful expression was a plea, a yearning to ease her pain.

"Angel. I know you only did what I asked you to. And we got what we wanted," Buffy's voice carried a mixture of gratitude and a touch of melancholy. The weight of their choices had left an indelible mark on her psyche.

"I never wanted it to go that far," Angel's regret was palpable, a confession that held a trace of sorrow.

"I know. It's not even a question. But after all that… I just need a little break," Buffy's words were a plea for respite, a momentary pause from the chaos that had consumed them.

Angel's nod was a mix of understanding and his own suppressed emotions. He watched as Buffy started to leave, the weight of her departure heavy in the air. "You still my girl?" he asked, his voice carrying a touch of vulnerability.

"Always," Buffy's response was a whispered promise, a reaffirmation of their connection even in the midst of uncertainty. With that, she walked out the door, leaving Angel to grapple with the mixture of emotions that swirled within him.

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Author's Note: Acme Brewing Company was or is a real company in San Francisco founded in reality by Leopold Schmidt in 1907.