"Just consider this a late Valentine. It's short, but-" Chunk! "-heartfelt!"
Miss Peel stood watching impassively as Buffy emerged from the cloud of dust left by their third vampire of the night. "Buffy, you're supposed to slay vampires, not the English language. I'm surprised that poor vampire didn't just stake himself after your last pun." She gave the Slayer a small smile at the end to show that she was joking.
Buffy pretended to be insulted. "I'll have you know that my witty repartée is the talk of the Hellmouth . . . or, at least it would be, if any of the vamps I fought survived to tell anyone about it," she finished with a superior smile.
The Watcher gave a small roll of her eyes. "Seriously, Buffy, your form is excellent, but I'm beginning to think you rely too much on your Slayer strength." As Buffy started to protest, she held up one hand and added, "Yes, yes, I know. At your Cruciamentum, you demonstrated most effectively that you can outwit a stronger opponent -- when you need to. But your fighting style tends toward brute force, when a little finesse would do just as well -- and leave you less winded in case another opponent shows up." She suddenly stared over Buffy's shoulder. "Like that one."
Buffy whirled, coming face-to-face with another vamp, who immediately attacked with a roundhouse aimed at the Slayer's head. Buffy ducked it, but got caught by a follow-up kick to the midsection that sent her sprawling. She rolled over, ready to spring to her feet again, only to see her Watcher stepping in.
And then Buffy got a first-hand look of what the woman had meant by "a little finesse." Miss Peel's moves were purely defensive, deflecting the undead creature's blows away from her. She wasn't blocking the blows -- she was brushing them away with casual-seeming waves of her hands, making the vamp waste his time and energy by punching and kicking at empty space.
Then the vampire over-extended with one of its punches, and she grabbed its wrist, twisted, and threw the creature over her shoulder. As it landed on the ground, Willow darted out from behind a headstone to plunge a stake into its heart, and it obligingly poofed.
The Watcher smiled at her. "Good timing, Willow." Then she turned back to Buffy, who was just getting to her feet.
"That was so cool," the Slayer said, eyes wide. "What was all that 'wax on, wax off,' stuff you were doing?" Buffy made little waving motions with her hands, to approximate the moves her Watcher had performed.
"Aikido," Miss Peel replied. She raised her eyebrows at Buffy's pop culture reference, but didn't comment on it, so Buffy figured either she'd gotten it, or she didn't want to embarrass herself by asking.
She went on, "Typically, Watcher training -- and therefore, Slayer training -- concentrates on hard, offensive styles, like savate and tae kwan do. The thinking seems to be that since a Slayer is usually alone, and vampires and demons are often found in packs, her best chance at survival is in learning how to use her superior strength to take her opponents out quickly. As the average Slayer hasn't lived more than a year for over a millenium, you would think they would've tried something different by now," she commented wryly.
Then she rubbed her cheek with her finger, and gave the Slayer a calculating look, "Buffy, in the offensive disciplines at least, Giles has done his job thoroughly; I don't think I could teach you anything new that would be useful. Mind you, there's still plenty of room for improvement," she cautioned as Buffy let a smug little smirk show, "but it's the kind that will only come with time and practice. I think you would benefit more from adding a defensive style to your repetoire -- and I think we should invite all of your 'Scoobies' to the training sessions as well."
Willow perked up at that last comment. "Really? You think we could learn to do all that deflect-y stuff with our hands?"
As Miss Peel and the redhead discussed the various possibilities, Buffy was alternating between feeling happy and annoyed. Happy that Miss Peel was accepting the whole Scooby Gang as easily as Giles had . . . and annoyed that she wasn't going to have training sessions all to herself and Faith any more.
Yeah, I can admit it -- I'm jealous. I like being special. Having Faith at the training sessions is one thing: she's a Slayer like me, and it makes sense to have the two of spar with each other; we can't really hurt each other as easily as we would Giles or Miss Peel. But having all the Scoobies together for the martial arts stuff . . .
But Miss Peel was right. Willow, Xander, and Oz could all benefit from a little formal training. Especially Xander. He'd told Buffy and Willow earlier that he was giving in to Miss Peel's and Giles' request that he not patrol for a while, but Buffy was sure that when Faith started patrolling again, Xander would be out there with her.
The whole Faith-and-Xander thing still got to Buffy. It wasn't so much that she was jealous of Faith's relationship with Xander -- whatever Willow seemed to think. She just didn't know what to make of it. Especially the way both of them had changed; Xander was acting . . . well, un-Xanderish. Mature. Serious. Protective. Well, maybe that wasn't so unusual. He just had never had anyone like Faith to be protective of.
And the changes in Faith were even more drastic. A week ago, she'd been Miss 'Tude '99. Now, she was . . . well, broken. Buffy knew that feeling; she'd been there and done that, many times.
And more than once, it had been Xander that had gotten her through it.
Jeez, no wonder he's acting all grown-up and stuff. He really does know what he's doing. He's had a lot of practice, after all.
It was only then that Buffy realized she was jealous of Faith. Not romantically . . . just in the kind of way that left her wondering who would be there for her the next time her life fell to pieces.
She shook herself. Back to business, Slayer. They'd done their circuit of the fresh graves; now it was time to try to track down the elusive Mr. Trick.
Two hours later, though, there was still no sign of Trick, and Buffy was getting annoyed. "I hope Angel's having better luck than us," she growled.
"Angel?" her Watcher asked, one eyebrow arched.
"Yeah. He's checking out the demon community, and probably beating the heck outta Willy the Snitch too. If Trick's trying to set up shop as the new Master on the Hellmouth, Willy'll know."
"And why, may I ask, have we spent hours creeping through a vampire- and demon-infested town, in the middle of the night, instead of just going to see this Willy ourselves?"
"'Cause Willy doesn't react well to new faces . . . and you probably wouldn't approve of how you gotta get information out of him." Buffy shrugged. "Trail's cold for tonight. I'll see if Angel found anything, and we'll try again tomorrow night." She started walking away, but Miss Peel's voice stopped her.
"Miss Summers, we're not finished here."
Oooh, so it's 'Miss Summers' now. Guess I ticked her off. The Slayer turned around, crossed her arms, and stood waiting. She barely noticed Willow making a quick getaway, probably figuring that absence was the better part of valor at the moment.
"I told you several nights ago that we were going to have to talk about your relationship with this . . . Angel. I think it's time we did."
Oh, great. I was wondering when we were gonna get to this.
"There's nothing to talk about. My relationship with Angel is my business. Not the Council's."
Miss Peel's expression softened -- just a little. "This has nothing to do with the Council. I just . . . I can't understand why you're willing to risk your life, and the lives of your friends, by associating with that . . . creature."
Buffy's vision began to go red, and she felt her pulse throb in her neck. "His name is Angel! Just last week, while you were probably sipping Earl Gray on the QE 2 in the middle of the Atlantic, he was helping me save the world!"
"And just eight months ago, he was trying to destroy it. Miss . . . " The Watcher sighed. "Buffy, I didn't want to fight with you about this. I am willing to accept that Angel is capable of doing great good. But only when he has his soul. Without it, he is a monster. A monster which you have already unleashed once, and which you could let loose again at any time, with just a moment's weakness."
Buffy blanched as Miss Peel's accusation hit home.
The Watcher pressed on. "Why? Why is it so important for you to go on like this, when it endangers the both of you, and everyone around you as well?"
Buffy could only whisper, "Because I love him."
Miss Peel's breath huffed out, and she looked up, as if appealing to a higher power for an answer.
Buffy's mind worked frantically. A higher power . . . "Because it snowed for him," Buffy said suddenly.
Miss Peel looked down at Buffy again. "'It snowed for him?' Buffy, would you mind clarifying that statement for me?"
As quickly as she could, Buffy explained about Angel's mysterious return from Hell, his haunting by the First Evil, their confrontation on the cliff overlooking Sunnydale, and the first snowfall in Sunnydale's hundred-year history.
Miss Peel looked alternately troubled, amazed, and confused. At one point, Buffy heard the woman mutter something that sounded vaguely obscene, although knowing Watchers it was probably in some thousand-year-old dead language.
Buffy finished her story by saying, "I don't know how Angel came back from the dimension I . . . sent him to. But I don't believe for a moment that it was the First that brought him back. And that snowfall -- I'd put Giles through enough, so I had Willow look into it. No demon on Earth has the power to change the weather like that. It was . . . something else. Something that wants Angel here, to make amends for what he's done."
Miss Peel was staring at her, stunned. "Buffy . . . this is . . . . momentous." She shook her head, and chuckled mirthlessly. "A genuine, right-out-of-Dickens Christmas miracle . . . on behalf of a vampire!"
She suddenly looked right at Buffy, her gaze hard and serious. "I know you had the best of intentions, but I wish you had told Giles the truth, instead of trying to spare his feelings. In fact, you had better tell him your story first thing tomorrow. If Angel really is important enough to merit that kind of direct intervention, there will be references to him in various books and prophecies. We must find them, and discover what role he is meant to play."
Her expression had become somewhat distant as she thought about the problem at hand, but she must have noticed Buffy starting to smile in triumph, because she added quickly, "If you think you've convinced me about your relationship with him, Buffy, you're wrong. In fact, I'm more determined than ever that it's a mistake. If Angel does have a higher purpose to fulfill, then you jeopardize that purpose with every second that you spend in his presence. It would be . . . better, for both of you, if you just let him go."
Buffy shook her head. Couldn't she understand? "I've tried. Oh, God, I've tried. But I can't." She could feel the beginnings of tears pricking at her eyes, and she blinked them away. "I lost him once, and it nearly killed me. I can't lose him again."
Miss Peel stood silently, arms crossed, for a minute or two that passed like an eternity. Then she said quietly, "We'll look for any references to Angel in the books. I'll even contact my father -- as a member of the Council, he has access to materials you couldn't even imagine. And . . . we'll see what we find." She shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe one of those books will say he's destined to fight at a Slayer's side.
"But for God's sake, Buffy, please be careful. Remember . . . if you were to just let him go, then yes, you would lose him, but you would know that he would be out there, doing good, and fulfilling whatever great destiny has been laid out for him. But if . . . if the curse is broken again, that destiny will almost certainly be lost. And one of you, perhaps both of you, will die."
"I know. I've always known that." And with that, Buffy just turned and walked away, toward the mansion where the love of her life would be waiting for her.
"Faith?"
"Mmmrrmn."
"Faith, it's almost eleven. Time to get up."
Faith's brain was foggy with sleep, but gradually she became aware of the arm draped across her waist, and the warm body she had snuggled up to in the night. She covered the arm with her own, and gave it a little squeeze. "G'morning, Xan," she murmured, smiling a little but not ready to open her eyes yet.
Mornings, bleah!
"Morning. Ready to get up and face the terrible dangers of moving a gazillion books?"
She snorted, stretched, yawned, and opened her eyes. And there he was, all goofy and gorgeous at the same time. For the thousandth time that week, Faith thought to herself, Buffy was an idiot, turning this guy loose.
Xander smiled at her and said, "Your Watcher tried to make me get you up around eight or so, but I said you needed your sleep. Then she tried to convince me to get outta bed. Ha, I say, ha!" His grin turned mocking. "Xander Harris, up and around before ten on the weekend? As much chance of that as Deadboy going to a tanning salon.
"Besides," he added, his smile once again gentle, "I didn't want to leave you to wake up alone."
Wow. Okay, maybe I just haven't had much experience with decent people . . . but that just might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. And we're still supposed to be in that "just friends" thing.
Aren't we?
Oblivious to Faith's thoughts, Xander went on, "But it's starting to get late enough that even I wanna get going, and everyone's probably already at the library, raggin' on us 'cause we're not there helping 'em. So, you wanna shower first, or a quick breakfast?"
That, at least, Faith could answer right off. "Food first. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. A demon horse, even -- slime and all."
Xander made a face, but still laughed.
Breakfast was so fast Faith couldn't even remember what she ate, and both of them were pretty quick in the shower, so it wasn't even twelve-thirty by the time they were walking through the double doors to the library.
Giles saw them first and made a mocking bow. "Ah, my Lord and Lady Layabout! How gracious of you to join us so early, this fine afternoon!"
Xander only played along with him, putting his fists on his hips, sticking his nose high in the air, and saying, in his worst imitation-English accent, "In-deed, Mr. Giles, how terribly . . . common of you to expect decent people to get up in the morning on a Saturday, just to help you move your silly books, of all things. Raw-ther!"
Girlish giggles sounded from back in the stacks, presumably from Buffy and Willow. Oz, sorting through the books on the lower shelves, only gave a half smile and raised one eyebrow.
Miss Peel tried to suppress a chuckle, and failed. "Giles, you can say whatever you like about Xander," she said, eyes dancing with mischief as she glanced at him, "but Faith really does need to catch up on her sleep. Last night was the first full night's rest she's had in almost a week." She glanced at the Slayer. "Feeling any better today?"
Faith grinned. "Five by five, Double-O-Gal."
There was an even louder chorus of chuckles at that; Faith was surprised to see that even Giles was enjoying a laugh at Miss Peel's expense. As for the Watcher herself, her expression wavered between a sardonic smirk and a genuine smile. "Since I've been granted the dubious pleasure of a nickname, Faith, does that mean you're actually beginning to trust me? Just a little?" she added, holding a hand up with the thumb and forefinger about a half-inch apart.
"Well, I don't think you're gonna slit my throat in my sleep or somethin' like that, if that's what you mean. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna wanna keep Xander around 24/7, just in case," she added, giving him a look that made him blush.
Most of the gang only chuckled at her words and Xander's discomfort, but Faith distinctly heard a discontented grumble from somewhere in the stacks, that sounded a lot like Buffy mumbling, "Like you'd ever let him go, now you've got your hooks in him."
Things went that way the whole afternoon. Pack books, banter with the Watchers, tease Xander . . . then listen to Buffy mutter something nasty about the teasing. The blonde Slayer never came right out and said anything out loud -- she just mumbled it in a way that only a Slayer's ears would pick up.
It didn't even occur to Faith that Buffy might not even realize that Faith could hear those little comments, or what their cumulative effect might be. But it all came to a head when Giles made a concerned comment about Faith's previously crippling nightmares, and Faith had insisted that they were gone.
"Haven't had a one since the middle of Thursday night, when my security blanket here volunteered," she said, giving Xander a one-armed hug.
"Security blanket?" Buffy said, suddenly turning. She gave Xander a wide-eyed, indignant look. "You're sleeping with her?"
Xander started to correct Buffy's assumption, but something in Faith just blew a gasket. "What the hell is your problem, B?" she yelled, walking right up to the startled girl. "I must've asked you half a dozen times the other night if you were interested in Xander, and you said 'no, no, no, I don't want Xander that way.' So if I wanna screw his eyes blue, what the hell business is it of yours?"
She wanted to laugh at Buffy's face by the time she was done -- she looked like she didn't know whether to get mad, blush, or faint. But then Faith heard a strangled gurgle from one side, and when she turned, Willow was staring at her with a horrified expression on her face, and the bright sparkle of tears in her eyes. Then she turned and ran.
"Aw, crap," Faith muttered, and before she even realized what she was doing, she followed the fleeing redhead through the double doors.
It wasn't that hard for Faith to track Willow through the halls to the girls' bathroom. Then again, where else would a girl like Willow run if she wanted to be alone?
She walked up to the stall where she could hear the sobbing, and said, "Hey, Red?"
"Go away, Faith."
"Red . . . Willow. There . . . " She hated saying it out loud. She didn't even really know why she was doing this. "There wasn't anything between me and Xander last night, except sleeping. He just put his arms around me and kept my nightmares away. That's all."
There was a sniffle, a click, and then a freckled nose and two green eyes poked out of the stall. "But . . . blue eyes?"
Faith was suddenly very glad that she'd learned how to lie really well while hiding stuff from her mother. She gave the redhead her most innocent look, and said, "I swear to you, his eyes are still brown. You can even take a look yourself."
Willow opened the door a little wider, sniffled some more, and asked, "So why'd you say all that stuff to Buffy?"
Faith gave an angry shrug. "B's been making nasty comments about me and Xander all afternoon. No, I know you didn't hear 'em," she added, as Willow started to protest, "but I could. Slayer hearing, y'know?" she finished, tapping her ear.
Willow frowned. "Even if I believe you -- and maybe I do, 'cause Buffy's been really edgy all this week, and she kinda had a fight with Miss Peel last night -- you shouldn't have been so mean to her. She thinks you're trying to take away one of her best friends, and she's scared."
"Well, she's trying to take away my only friend, so how'm I supposed to feel?" Faith shot back.
Willow didn't speak for a long time, only stood and stared at Faith with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. Then she came out of the stall, and quietly said, "It doesn't have to be that way."
"What way?"
"Xander doesn't have to be your only friend."
Faith stared at her in surprise. "That an offer or somethin', Red?"
"Depends," Willow said, putting her hands on her hips. "Would you ever put Xander down, make fun of him?"
Faith shook her head, glad at being asked something she could be completely honest about. "The guy who saved my life twice in one night? Who sat with me while I screamed my throat raw, and . . . held me while I cried myself sick?" Faith blinked, determined not to let any tears fall. Not in front of anyone but Xander. "Never."
Willow just stared at her silently for a long time. Faith was starting to feel uncomfortable with that intense, sea-green gaze, but she couldn't make herself look away. Then suddenly Willow half-whispered, "This isn't about . . . blue eyes . . . at all. You really love him, don't you?"
Now Faith was really uncomfortable. Love was the ultimate four-letter word in her world. And Willow was just staring at her, and she still couldn't look away, and she found herself saying, "Funny word, love. Mothers are supposed to love their daughters, and look what mine did to me. And some of those sleazebags she brought home actually told me they loved me. Even after they hit me."
Oh, Jesus, why the hell'd I say that?
Willow pursed her lips again, and said, "If they hurt you, it wasn't really love." But that gaze didn't let go of Faith for a moment.
Desperate to escape that stare, Faith finally said, "We better get back to the library, or they're gonna think I'm tearing your hair out, or you turned me into a toad or something."
Willow smiled a little, and said, "Okay, Miss Avoiding-the-Question." She turned away, and Faith breathed a sigh of relief as they walked out of the bathroom.
Halfway down the hall, Willow spoke up again. "I . . . just wanted to know, 'cause . . . Xander spent all that time with Cordelia, and I don't think she really cared about him. I mean, they had all those smoochies going on, but she never stopped calling him a dork, or a loser. And . . . when I thought that Xander had gone from one girl who didn't really care about him to another . . . that he'd rather sleep with someone like that than . . . well, I just got really upset, y'know?"
Faith nodded. But she really didn't want to continue this conversation, 'cause it kept leading back to that four-letter word, and those questions she just wasn't ready to face yet. "Could you really have turned me into a toad?"
Willow gave her one of those looks again, but she only said, "Don't think so. I can't even de-rat Amy."
Faith smirked. "Well, the Frog Prince was supposed to be cured when a princess kissed him. Ever try getting a prince to kiss the rat?"
Willow chuckled. "Nope. I only know one prince and . . . " she gave Faith a sly look, "I think he's kinda taken."
Buffy's mother opened the front door for the Scoobies when Giles' car and Oz' van pulled up at 1630 Revello Drive, but looked puzzled at the boxes they were carrying. "Isn't there more than this, Rupert? From the way you were talking, I was expecting about twice as many books, plus a lot of . . . other things."
Giles made a disgusted noise. "We had a few distractions during the afternoon that slowed us down." He threw glares at Buffy, who pretended not to notice, and at Faith, who blushed and looked down at her feet. "There's more -- a lot more -- but we'll need to make another trip next week."
"Why wait until then?" asked Miss Peel. "Why not just go back tomorrow-" Her question was broken off by overly dramatic groans from most of the Scoobies.
"Does that answer your question?" Giles answered with a half-smile. "And my poor, aching back could use a day off as well. Besides, the materials we have with us can keep our research on this 'Mr. Trick' going for at least a week."
Miss Peel gave Giles a startled look, then turned to say something to Buffy, who was already double-timing it into the house to avoid her.
As soon as she could, Buffy pulled Willow into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. "What did Faith say to you earlier?" she growled. "Did she threaten you or something?"
"No, Buffy, it was nothing like that," the redhead protested. "Faith just wanted to tell me . . . " She suddenly broke off, looking uncertain.
"Well?" the Slayer asked impatiently.
"She said that, despite what she said to you, there wasn't any of the, um, blue-eyed stuff going on between her and Xander. But," she started, as a triumphant smile appeared on Buffy's face, "I think it's just a matter of time before something does happen . . . and I think I'll be happy for them when it does."
"What?" Buffy was absolutely floored. First Faith's claim of sleeping with Xander had Willow in tears, and now she was cheering them on?
"Buffy, I want Xander to be happy. I want him to be with someone who really cares about him. That could've been me -- once," she added regretfully. "Even when we had all those forbidden smoochies going, I think it was the 'forbidden' thing that really got to us. I never once thought of breaking up with Oz and actually dating Xander, and he never said a thing about breaking up with Cordy. And after they caught us, we didn't feel relieved that it was out in the open, or anything like that . . . just guilty."
She shrugged. "I think I'll always wonder what might've been, but it's never gonna happen. It's like, I'm Leia and Xander's Luke. There might've been something there at first, but it turns out we're like brother and sister instead of boyfriend and girlfriend."
"I guess that makes Oz Han Solo. Always thought Harrison Ford seemed kinda wolfy," Buffy said with a wry little grin. For some reason, Willow's explanation sounded awfully familiar. Then her smile slipped away, as she added, "So what does that make Faith?"
Willow gave a half-hearted little chuckle. "Well, in the Star Wars books there was this woman named Mara Jade, who was some kinda evil Imperial assassin, only Luke turned her to the good side and ended up marrying her . . . " She threw up her hands. "Whatever."
She was silent a moment, then added, "She's in love with him."
"She said that?" Buffy practically screeched.
"Nope. In fact, if she'd said it, I probably wouldn't have believed her. It's because she didn't say it that I think she does."
Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and clutched her head in her hands. "And that gets the Wicca-girl a great big 'Huh?' from the Slayer."
Willow suddenly looked fearful. "Buffy . . . promise you won't say anything to Faith, or Xander?"
"Umm . . . " The sudden change in Willow sent a momentary chill down Buffy's spine. "Sure, Wills, whatever you say."
"I . . . sorta put a whammy on Faith."
"Uh . . . what?"
"Well, y'see, I was curious about that truth spell that Giles and Miss Peel put on you and Faith and your mother, when you were giving your testimony to the Council. So I looked it up, and it turns out that there are all kinds of truth spells. Most of 'em require a lot of ritual, and some stinky herbs, and maybe even a magic circle, but one of 'em, called the Compulsion to Speak, just requires a quick gesture, which you can hide, and maintained eye contact. It's almost like magical hypnotism.
"So, when Faith showed up in the bathroom, and sounded like she really cared about Xander and was worried about you taking him away from her, I did the gesture behind my back, stared her in the eye, and asked her a couple questions. And Xander was right. Faith's been through some really terrible stuff -- one of the people who hurt her was her own mother. And now she's afraid of love, 'cause she knows how badly someone you love can hurt you."
That gave Buffy a nasty start, because that was one thing she could definitely relate to.
"And now she's falling for Xander, and she's afraid to show it, or say anything about it, and she's afraid you're gonna get between them 'cause Xander's always had this thing for you, and she accused you of trying to take away her only friend, and-"
When Willow paused to take a breath, Buffy interrupted her. "Hold it, Wills." The redhead paused, and gave her an expectant look. "How sure are you about all this?"
Willow bit her lip as she thought. "I'm sure she's really, really scared. I'm sure she'd never intentionally hurt Xander." She paused for a moment and looked thoughtful. "I'm sure there were things that she was trying not to say, or afraid to say. I think that one of them was that she's in love with Xander. And I'm sure he likes her . . . and if the two of them ever make with the smoochies, I'm sure I'll be a little sad . . . but mostly I'll be happy if they're happy."
Buffy looked at her best friend for a long time, then let out a long sigh, and her shoulders slumped. "You think I should get outta the way, don't you?"
Willow gave her a sad little smile. "Yeah. For your sake as well as theirs. I think if they're gonna get together, they will. And if you try to fight it . . . then you really could lose Xander."
There was a rumbly little growl in Buffy's stomach that had nothing to do with being hungry. She stood there, and thought. And thought. And then gave a helpless little shrug and pleaded with her best friend, "So what do I do?"
Willow gave her one of those looks. "Well, Buff, nothing says 'I'm sorry' like an apology."
Luckily, the Summers house -- actually, the Summers-Giles house now -- had a lot of hallways and corners that could be used for private conversations. Buffy knew she could never have done this with an audience.
"Faith?"
Whirl. "B."
Two pairs of eyes met, midnight brown and hazel green. They couldn't help but strike sparks -- hell, they struck lightning bolts -- but the green pair blinked first.
"Look, Faith, I'm about as good as apologizing as I am at driving . . . "
The brown eyes finally blinked.
"Forget it, B."
"No, Faith . . . I think I have to say . . . something." Sigh. Growl. "I . . . look, when someone saves your life, not just once, but a couple of times, you can't help but feel something."
Those brown eyes quicky turned hard and wary.
"And . . . " Buffy suddenly realized that now was not the best time to admit that, maybe, once or twice, momentarily, she had had un-Luke-and-Leia type thoughts about Xander. So, stick to the other, safer stuff. "And . . . maybe, if someone saves you enough, you get used to the idea that they'll always be there to save you when you need them . . . and when they go off to save someone else . . . "
A little of that hardness went away -- but just a little.
Buffy took a deep breath and went for broke. "Xander's really special to me. Saving my life, that night in the tunnels, is just the beginning. He's one of the . . . the anchors in my life. One of the things I know I can hold onto when everything's going foom. And the idea that he might not be there the next time I need him . . . it scares me."
There was a calculating look in those brown eyes now. "You want us to be five-by-five again, B?"
Buffy felt the corners of her mouth twitch, although she wasn't quite sure whether they were trying to move up or down. "Yeah. I do."
"Then tell Xander what you just told me." The dark-haired Slayer smirked. "Hell, Buff, he probably wouldn't've promised to be my Scooby if you hadn't had him feelin' like a fifth wheel. I'm not the one you need to apologize to. He is."
The smirk turned into a frown. "He's all I've got, B. I'm not gonna let you take him away. But . . . it would mean a lot to him, if he knew he meant that much to you."
Buffy was quiet for a long time as she considered what Faith had said, and looked into Faith's eyes, trying to see what Willow had seen, and wishing that she could pull the same kind of witchy trick on her fellow Slayer. Finally, she just nodded. Okay, "F." You've got yourself a deal. I'll go talk to Xander right now.
And then after dinner, the real fireworks'll begin . . .
Mrs. Summers came up to Xander looking concerned. "Aren't you going to eat anything, Xander?" she asked, gesturing towards the dining room table, which held three plates of snacks and appetizers. "Dinner's still a couple hours away."
"Sorry, Mrs. Summers, I guess I'm just not hungry right now," Xander answered.
"All right, but I feel like I should ask Rupert if Xander Harris not eating is one of those end-of-the-world signs he's supposed to watch for," she said with a gentle smile. "If you change your mind . . . "
He nodded absently. She stood there a moment longer, looking at him expectantly, then gave a kind of half-shrug and went to see if Miss Peel wanted anything.
He'd been lying through his teeth, of course. He was starving, but he couldn't even think of eating anything right now. There was a knot of sick dread in his belly, and it had been growing all afternoon as he watched three of the most important people in his life take the first steps toward tearing that life apart.
He was angry at Faith for saying what she'd said to Buffy, and upsetting Willow like that, but he wasn't sure he could really blame her. Buffy was being ridiculous, acting all jealous when she'd made it clear she didn't like him that way. Why should it be any of her business what he did with Faith . . . even if he wasn't doing it? And Willow had made her choice -- why should she get so upset if he'd gotten involved with someone new . . . even if he hadn't?
None of the girls had talked to him since Faith and Willow had vanished and reappeared at the library, and that had been two hours ago. Then, after they got here, he'd seen Buffy pull Willow aside for a private conversation. He was painfully sure he knew what would come next.
They'd come to him, and they'd make him choose. Them, or Faith.
If it came down to that, he'd keep his promise to Faith to always put her first, and choose her. But to lose Buffy and Willow's friendships at once? It would just about kill him.
"Xander?"
He turned. It was Buffy. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"
Oh, crap. Here it comes . . . He followed Buffy feeling like the condemned man following the hooded executioner to the guillotine.
And when they got to her room, he just sat there silently, waiting for the blade to fall on his neck.
Only it didn't.
"Xander . . . I owe you an apology. A big one. I know I've been acting like a real bitch lately, with you and Faith . . . and just before that, when we were trying to keep you out of danger when we were fighting the Ugly Sisterhood. Did a real good job on that, didn't I?" she commented, with a wry little half-smile.
"And I know you think I take you for granted, and I'm sorry about that too. I don't, really. It's just . . . I always knew I could depend on you. I've never asked you for help, because I've never needed to -- you've just always been there, right when I needed you. Not only with the vamps and demons, but whenever the lastest personal Buffy crisis came knocking on the door. I guess . . . I've just started to realize that I don't know what my life would be like if you weren't in it. Except I know I'd hate it. A lot."
There was more after that, including confessions and apologies on both sides -- of all things, Buffy confessed that she remembered everything about her "unwrap your present" act in the library, and that however she felt about him, she couldn't help but be flattered by what he'd said to her.
Xander finally admitted that he did remember everything about being Hyena Boy, and -- after a bit of soul-searching, and a half-aborted confession that Buffy insisted he continue -- he even confessed about the "kick his ass" fib on the way to Angel's mansion, which nearly used up all the Buffy goodwill in his account.
But gradually, the two of them worked out most of the stuff that had been getting between them for the past few weeks. More amazingly, as they quietly rejoined the rest of the Scoobies, Xander saw Willow, Oz, and Faith talking, and the two girls were actually smiling at each other. Oz was trying to maintain that nonchalant, oh-so-cool expression he always wore, but Faith turned to him with a wicked look on her face and said something that actually made him chuckle -- briefly -- and made Willow blush redder than her hair.
In the space of about forty-five minutes, Xander's world had turned completely rightside-up for once. He didn't know what god or demon had brought this about, but if the Great Spirit Hougna-Traba appeared before him, claimed responsibility, and told him to dress up in banana skins and feathers and sacrifice seven oxen by the light of the full moon, he'd do it . . . as soon as he found out just what oxen were, of course.
Within five minutes, Mrs. Summers was all out of munchies.
The dinner Mrs. Summers served that night was typically fantastic, and most of the Scoobies had at least two giant helpings. Xander and Faith had three, and at the end of the meal, Faith was staring at the empty platters and casserole dish as if wishing she could've had a fourth.
Mrs. Summers caught that look, and commented, "Faith, dear, I sometimes wish I could get Buffy to eat more, but I'm afraid that if she ate like that every night, I'd have to take a second job!"
"You could make a lotta money as a cook, Mrs. S," Faith replied wih a grin. "No offense to your cooking, Miss Peel, but that's the best dinner I've had since . . . " She made a face for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Well, other than the other two dinners I've had here, it's the best I've ever had, period."
Mrs. Summers looked like she didn't know quite how to respond to Faith's compliment. Xander noticed Buffy giving her mother a faint nod, who then smiled and said, "Well, you know you're welcome anytime you like, Faith." Her tone became a little dry as she added, "Just give me a little warning so I can stock up ahead of time."
Faith gave her a look of mock outrage as the rest of the Scoobies chuckled.
Now I'm sure something Hellmouthy is going on, Xander thought. But if it's working for us for once, I for one am not going to argue with it.
The Scoobies were getting ready to settle in for a long night's research session, but Buffy and Miss Peel were missing. He could hear some kind of argument going on between them in the other room, and it sounded pretty heated.
And now that Xander thought of it, he realized Buffy had been avoiding Miss Peel all afternoon-
Ding-dong.
Buffy yelled "I'll get it!" from the other room, and sprinted to the front door with a huge smile on her face.
Xander's thoughts instantly went back to Oh, crap mode. Because if he read that smile right . . .
Buffy opened the door, and sighed, "Angel."
The dark-haired vampire looked into the house hesitantly, and saw that everyone was staring at him. "Uh . . . can I come in?"
Mrs. Summers was suddenly behind Buffy, arms crossed, looking seriously unhappy. "I thought you only needed to be invited in once."
"I was, um, trying to be polite."
"Mom, please," Buffy interjected. "I asked Angel to come here for a reason. Everyone, including Angel, please come into the living room. We need to talk."
Buffy concluded her story by saying, "So we need to find out just what Angel's supposed to do. Why he's here, and why it's important enough to rate an honest-to-God miracle. Two, if you count bringing him back from Hell in the first place."
Xander was dumbstruck. He'd never liked Angel, but occasionally a little bit of respect would rear its ugly head. Since Angel's soulless period, last year, he'd always done his best to quash it as soon as it did . . . but there it was again.
Angel was willing to die, not just to save Buffy, but to keep Buffy safe. There wasn't much of a difference in the words, but there was a hell of a difference in real life. Angel had overcome the First's temptations, and Buffy had driven away the Bringers, but he had tried to face the sunrise anyway, because he was afraid that someday he might hurt the woman he loved.
Xander had learned a whole lot about that fear in the past few days. He'd always had the secret fear of becoming abusive like his father, but he'd begun to realize that there were a million ways to hurt the people you cared about, and so, so many of them were done unintentionally, or even with good intentions.
There had been times over the past couple nights when lying next to Faith, holding her in his arms, and not taking it past the "friendly and comforting" phase had been absolutely maddening. But he had done it, because Faith's recovery was far more important than his lust. Even if they felt the same way, even if they wanted the same things, it would have been cruel to take advantage of her when she was hurting so much.
He had been willing to stop patrolling, stop risking his life, because Giles and Miss Peel had told him it was necessary to keep Faith safe. Now he turned the situation around in his head. If the Watchers had told him that the best thing he could do for Faith would be to go out and get himself killed, could he have done that?
He glanced at her. He liked her. He really, really, really liked her. He would probably be willing to save her life in battle, even if he might get hurt or killed as a result . . . but could he throw himself off a cliff or something, just to keep her safe?
He didn't really know. But to be honest, he doubted it.
But Angel could. He loved Buffy enough to do that.
It made Xander feel . . . small, to face up to that. He still didn't like Deadboy . . . but could you respect someone you didn't like?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Soldier-Boy said, Hell, yeah. You can hate the bejeesus outta yer superiors, but you still obey orders, because that's the way the Army works.
Slowly, Xander became aware that Willow had moved to Buffy and Angel's side, giving them both a big approving smile, and while he watched, she turned and held out a hand to Oz, who considered it for a moment, then joined her.
Then Buffy and Willow had both turned to look at him.
Oh, crap, he thought yet again. This is turning into Hands Across Sunnydale, and I'm the Missing Link, as far as the Scooby Gang goes. He glanced at Faith. She was watching him expectantly as well. If he threw in with Buffy, Faith would probably follow him. If he didn't . . . he would be right where he was afraid of being earlier this afternoon. On the verge of losing Buffy and Willow.
There wasn't anything to think about, really.
He slowly walked up to the vampire. "I don't like you, and I don't trust you. I never have, and I don't think I ever will."
Then he looked at Buffy, her green eyes huge and . . . fearful? "You, on the other hand . . . You're one of my best friends, Buffy, and I've always trusted you completely -- except when it came to him," he added, jerking his head toward Angel.
"I guess . . . I think it's time I stopped making exceptions to the rule."
Buffy gave him a hug that nearly cracked his ribs.
Willow gave him a big grin as he stepped into the loose circle of Scoobies, and turned to look at Faith.
As he'd expected, she followed him very quickly. At first, it seemed like she wasn't going to say anything, but she paused in front of Buffy, her eyebrows furrowed. "B . . . didn't I tell you once that all men are beasts?"
"I seem to remember that conversation," Buffy said archly.
Faith looked right at Xander, and gave him a big smile. Then she glanced at Angel, frowned a bit, then turned back to Buffy and said, "I'm beginning to get that maybe -- just maybe -- I was wrong."
Then she took her place next to Xander.
Which left the teenage members of the Scooby Gang staring across the room at the three adults.
Giles was pretty unreadable. He'd obviously been very startled by much of Buffy's story, but now he was just sitting in one of the big easy chairs, giving Buffy and Angel a measuring look and being completely inscrutable.
Miss Peel, in comparison, looked like she'd swallowed a bug. Xander could tell she was ticked, and he'd be willing to bet that he and Faith were going to get an earful when they went back to the apartment . . . but she wasn't saying anything right now. Was that a "no" vote, or an abstention? He also noticed that she hadn't looked nearly as surprised as Giles, which meant she'd known the whole story before tonight.
Then he noticed the person Buffy was looking at -- her mother.
Mrs. Summers looked worried.
Not furious, not ticked, not panicked . . . this was a patented Worried Joyce Summers look, which could be boiled down to one simple question: Are you really sure of what you're doing?
And Buffy's confident gaze was answering Yes.
For one brief moment, Xander had a glimpse into the workings of Buffy Summers' mind, and he could only think one thing in response.
Holy crispity crap!
This was what had had Buffy on edge all day. She'd invited Angel over here sometime after patrol last night, and she'd been planning this confrontation the whole time.
He'd bet dollars to donuts this was about Miss Peel. She'd probably been coming down on Buffy hard about old Deadboy, so Buffy had planned a pre-emptive strike. Miss Peel might get mad, but she'd never do anything to actually hurt Buffy -- and with the Council about to be tied up in knots, neither would they. Heck, with Faith around and taking orders from Miss Peel, Buffy could probably tell the Council to take a flying leap if worse came to worse.
But she had to live with her mother -- and Giles too. She had to convince them . . . or at least one of them. Xander was pretty sure Buffy hadn't expected to get Giles' support right away, but if she won her mother over, they'd get Giles to come around eventually . . .
And when Faith had been all over him in the library, and made her think she and Xander were knockin' the boots . . .
The last time he and Faith had had a serious Angel discussion, it had ended with Faith trying to kill Angel and Buffy having to fight her to stop it, and an evil Watcher trying to kill them all.
No wonder Buffy had gone so ballistic. She hadn't been jealous.
She'd been scared.
Her plans were already in motion, and if he'd been the old Xander, the one who'd let his jealousy of Angel blind him to anything else, he'd've screwed them up completely.
He still trusted Buffy implicitly, so he knew that her apologies earlier had been sincere. He did feel hurt that things had to get as bad as they did before she realized that she needed to apologize, but . . . whatever. Water under the bridge. She'd apologized, and meant it, and made sure he knew how much he meant to her.
Hoping all the while that he would turn right around and show her how much she meant to him.
She'd make a helluva general, Soldier-Boy remarked. I'm just glad she's on our side.
Xander could only agree.
"Miss Peel? The phone's for you -- it's your father."
Catherine looked up from the text she was searching, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Even if this were a "business" call, she needed a break; she was getting a terrible headache, either from eyestrain or book mold.
"May I take it in your office, Mr. Giles?"
"Of course."
She got up from her seat at the table, stretched, and walked into Mr. Giles' office, passing him as he took her place in front of Xanatos' Vrykolakas.
She picked up the phone and pressed the blinking button. "Dad?"
"Hey, Cat, how's my favorite daughter doing?"
This was an old joke of his -- she was, of course, his only child. "Much better, now that I'm talking to you instead of trying to make sense of Ancient Greek prophecy."
He chuckled. "I wanted to call you yesterday, but several important matters came up, which I'll have to tell you about in a moment. But the big news is, we had the impeachment vote yesterday, and Travers is history. Off the Council, and out of the Watchers. 'A disgrace to his lineage and his calling.'"
She could hear barely-suppressed glee in his voice. "Of course, I'd thought so for years, but this time I was finally able to prove it in front of the whole Council."
"That's wonderful, Dad! And now, I presume, you're going to spend weeks and weeks keeping the Council deadlocked on the date of the Conclave to elect his successor?"
"No, unfortunately," he answered gruffly. "We talked it over -- Sanderson, Evans, and myself -- and we've concluded that we just can't risk it. Ashton's already nominated his choice for Travers' successor, and it's Reginald Wyndham-Pryce."
"WHAT?! That smug, pretentious, over-bred, child-abusing . . . creep is being considered for a Council seat?" During her teens, Catherine had tried for five years to get Wesley Wyndham-Pryce to tell the Council how his father treated him. Not that she really expected them to be against child-beating on principle -- but crippling a member of the next generation of Watchers had to be against at least one of the by-laws.
But Wesley wouldn't hear of it, and her constant prodding had ended up costing her one of her few friendships among the other Watchers of her generation.
"I know, Cat, I know. He's worse than Quentin Travers ever was, and if we could ever prove what he did to Wesley, he wouldn't just be kicked out of the Watchers, he'd be behind bars. But we can't prove it, and now he's been nominated to the Council -- by the President himself.
"You know what that means; a lot of Watchers will probably vote for him because they're afraid to oppose Ashton in any way. And too many of the others, the ones with guts and brains, won't run against Wyndham-Pryce because they hate the idea of being stuck at Headquarters attending Council sessions, instead going out into the world to actually do something.
"So as I said, Sanderson, Evans, and I had a little talk, and we decided to go for broke. At the Council meeting today, we settled on March fifteenth for the Conclave, and tomorrow we're going to nominate our own candidate for Travers' seat on the Council. And we think we've settled on someone who's both popular and respected enough to unify the 'Young Progressive' types . . . and who's stuck at Headquarters anyway, so it's not like we're keeping her from doing something more important."
It took about three seconds for Catherine to work it out in her head, then she chuckled. "She's going to be hopping mad, you know. Mum's always thought you've been wasting your time on the Council all these years -- I don't know if she's ever said it to you, but around me she calls the Council the Last Refuge for the Incompetent." She emphasized the capitalized words in a perfect imitation of her mother, making her father chortle.
"She already knows, Cat. I talked it over with her last night, after I met with Sanderson and Evans, and you're right -- she was hopping mad, but she's agreed that it's far better that she waste her time on the Council than let Wyndham-Pryce soil a Council seat with his fat fundament.
"And by the way, she's already settled on how to get revenge on me for talking her into this. Once she's elected to the Council, and the four of us make up the majority, we can elect a new President. Guess who she's going to railroad into that thankless job?"
"Oh, poor Daddy," she chuckled.
Then suddenly, all the implications of his news began to settle in, and she gasped. "Dad? Do you really think you can take over the Council like this?"
"I don't have a choice, Cat. I have to, or else Ashton will go on making a mess of things. Truth is, Sanderson and I have been waiting for years for a chance like this, but the time was never right. Evans only joined the Council three years ago, and he only managed that because Ashton knew his cronies still held the majority.
"But with this revelation about Travers, you've handed us a golden opportunity, and we're going to make the most of it. It's going to be tough, though, I can tell you. With the balance of power at stake, Ashton's going to be pulling every string he can, and we need someone who can stand out in a crowd -- but that's one thing your mother's always been able to do."
"That's for sure." Even now, Emma Peel could still turn heads. Catherine, having inherited most of her mother's good looks, often prayed that she would look half as good when she turned sixty-two.
"Well, that's the news from Watcher HQ. What's happening on the Hellmouth? And how are your two charges?"
"Oh Lord, don't ask," Catherine groaned.
"Oh, dear -- Miss Collins' recovery taking a turn for the worse?"
"No, actually she's doing much better. It's the other one who's giving me headaches now."
"Miss Summers? But I thought you said she was a superb Slayer -- 'a Watcher's dream come true,' I believe you said in your last report."
"Well, that was then. Now I've begun to understand that Watching over a strong-willed, independent Slayer can have its downside as well." She went on to describe her conversation with Buffy regarding Angel four nights ago, and Buffy's unique counterattack the following night.
"I hate to admit it, Dad, but she's completely outmaneuvered me. The whole 'Scooby Gang' is behind her, and Mrs. Summers as well. If I push her now, she'll probably just ignore me, and that would destroy my authority in Faith's eyes as well."
"Cat, Cat, Cat," her father chided her. "It's too bad you never had a torrid love affair in your youth, or you'd know better than to try using logic to get a teenaged girl to walk away from her first love." He chuckled. "Matter of fact, your mother's instructed me to ask her Catling if you've spent the night on a beach with a handsome young surfer yet."
"Daddy!" She hated when her voice squeaked like that. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then went on, "I do have a sacred duty to perform, you know."
Her father chuckled. "Really, my dear, you're a Watcher, not a nun. Both your Slayers seem to have gotten involved in relationships -- why should you be all by yourself?"
"You just want me to settle down and give you a grandchild that you can spoil shamelessly."
He chuckled again. "That too."
"We can talk about my love life another time, Dad. Right now, I could use your advice about Buffy Summers."
"What can you do, Cat? As you said, she's cornered you rather neatly. My advice is to let Rupert Giles handle her. You said in your last report you've been allowing him to act as Buffy's de facto Watcher while you've had your hands full with Faith?"
"Yes -- in fact, if you do end up the President of the Council, I'd highly suggest that your first act be to re-hire Mr. Giles, and re-assign him to Miss Summers permanently. One Slayer is more than enough for any one Watcher."
"Oh, I agree with you there. There were times with Marina when I wished I had an assistant or two . . . or a dozen. I can't imagine what it must be like for you trying to handle two of them." Despite his attempts at humor, his voice had become quiet and wistful, as it always did when he recalled the Slayer he'd watched for three years. Marina de Leo had been dead for over thirty years, but she still haunted Peter Peel.
After a moment or two, he continued. "As I was saying, let Mr. Giles deal with Miss Summers. He's known her and worked with her for over two years, and from what you've told me, he'll probably become her step-father very soon. He has far more influence with her than you could ever hope to achieve. And remember, the woman he loved was murdered by Angelus, and he himself was tortured by the vampire when Angelus was trying to discover how to awaken Acathla."
He snorted. "It would take another miracle for Miss Summers to convince him to accept her relationship with him."
"Laugh if you like, Dad, but she may yet pull it off. That is one very determined young woman -- and Mrs. Summers will probably be supporting her as well."
She frowned to herself, then remembered the other important matter regarding Angel. "What about the snowstorm on Christmas? Will you look into it, and any prophecies regarding a vampire with a soul?"
"I'll have Sanderson do it. He's knows the Council Archives much better than I do -- and I have a campaign to run for your mother, remember?"
Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "Catherine, are you sure Miss Summers was telling the truth about Angelus?"
"Angel," she corrected her father automatically, "and yes, I'm sure. The facts all fit, and Miss Rosenberg and Mr. Giles have verified their parts of Buffy's story."
Her father was silent for several seconds. "You sound like you're defending this vampire yourself."
"I don't pretend to know what's actually going on inside his head, Dad, or what it really means for a vampire to have a soul. But I do know that while Angelus has the reputation of being one of the most vicious creatures to ever walk the Earth, the being who calls himself Angel devotes himself to doing good deeds, including risking his life to help the Slayer save the world -- and, incidentally, helping her save me from the demon Balthazar and Il Eliminati last week."
She chuckled a little to herself, as she imagined what Buffy would say if she knew Catherine were having this conversation. "There's nothing like owing a demon your life to give you a new perspective on things."
She heard a surprised grunt over the phone line, but that was her father's only response, so she went on. "It's Angel's relationship with Buffy that I object to, not Angel himself. A moment of happiness with her is what broke the curse before; if Angel is to do whatever he's destined for, he has to keep his soul -- which, to my mind, means he needs to stay as far away from Buffy Summers as possible."
When she had hung up the phone and re-entered the library, she found that Xander had shown up and was teasing him about his progess on "The Deadboy Report." So, at Giles' inquiring glance, she restricted her answer to the Council news, and her suggestion regarding Giles' rehiring.
Xander grinned hugely at the news, and he slapped Giles on the back, saying, "You hear that, G-Man? You may not be unemployed for long after all!"
Even while telling Xander for what seemed like the hundred-thousandth time not to call him "G-Man," there was a hint of a smile on Giles' face, and a light in his eyes that Catherine had never seen before. But she imagined that if she'd been cut off from her life's work, then suddenly given the hope that she might be able to resume it, she would look the same way.
"This calls for a celebration!" Xander went on. "Wish we could all get together tonight for something, but Dingoes are playing the Bronze tonight, so Willow's sure to be there, and I promised Buffy I'd meet her there so we can try to cheer Wills up."
"Is something wrong with Willow?" Giles asked, concerned.
"She kinda blew up at Buffy and me this morning -- something about not wanting to be 'Old Reliable Homework Gal' or something." He shook his head. "I've never seen her like that before."
Giles looked thoughtful. "Maybe we've been working Willow a little too hard lately. Between her regular schoolwork, her study of magic, and all the 'hacking' she's been doing on our behalf, she's probably worn herself a bit thin. A night out with her friends is probably just the thing to get her spirits up again."
Xander nodded, visibly relieved.
Catherine stayed quiet while Xander was in the library, but after he'd left, she turned to Giles and said, "Do you think I should call off Faith's 'first night out' tonight? She might end up fighting with Willow for Xander's attention, and we'll end up right where we were last week."
He shook his head. "I don't think so. You've already promised Faith that she could get out a little-"
"Lord knows why she feels the need for any more freedom; she's always sure to be out of our counseling sessions by two-thirty, and she never comes home until five-thirty."
Giles smiled wryly at her. "Faith's been on her own, making her own rules, for months now. It's got to be hard for her to give up that independence. Besides, now that the crisis seems to have passed, her Slayer instincts are probably shouting at her to be out and about when the sun goes down, rather than locked up at home."
He paused, then held up a finger thoughtfully. "She and Willow have been getting along fairly well since their little blowup Saturday afternoon. And if you tell her that Willow needs some cheering up, maybe it will give her a project -- something to take her mind off the fact that Buffy might finally catch up with Mr. Trick later tonight -- if Angel's information is correct -- while she's still barred from patrolling."
Catherine's lips pursed. "I suppose." Then she brightened. "Doesn't Willow usually stop to see you after school?"
"Yes, most of the time."
"I'd feel better if you had a chance to talk to both of them -- together, if possible. I'm starting to understand Faith, but sometimes I can't recognize her moods. And I've gotten the impression that Willow feels more comfortable confiding in you about certain things -- maybe she'll tell you what she wouldn't tell Buffy and Xander."
Faith couldn't believe how good it felt just to be out after dark, walking through the streets of Sunnydale, breathing the night air . . . and, of course, constantly scanning all around her for shadows that moved. She patted the stake she'd stuck in her back pocket, "for emergencies only," of course.
She snorted. Miss Peel hadn't wanted to let her have it at first, but the Watcher had had to admit that you didn't need to patrol to run into trouble in Sunnydale -- and that went double for Faith. Vamps would come after her in particular, hoping to be the lucky one who bagged a Slayer, and the last thing she needed was to go around unarmed.
Now all she needed to do was make this stupid stop at the library, and she could head over to the Bronze, for some partying, some dancing . . . and a serious talk with Xander about this 'just friends' thing.
When she'd woken up that morning, Xander was still asleep, though Faith wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. His usual arm-around-her waist had shifted until one hand was resting lightly on her left breast, and there'd been something gently but firmly poking her in the ass. It had taken all her willpower not to grind back against it, just to see if Xander woke up, and what his reaction would be. Hell, what she'd really wanted to do was jump on top of him and watch the look on his face as she yanked his boxers down . . .
Arrrrrgh! Just thinking about it was getting her all charged up! She'd never had it so bad for one particular guy in her whole life, and it was driving her nuts!
Of course, Miss Peel had been asking her for days to talk about her relationship with Xander: how she felt, what she wanted from him, where she thought it was going . . .
HA! Does she really think I'd take any advice from her? She's been here a whole week, and the only guy from jolly old England she's talked to is her Dad! For all I know she's a thirty-year-old virgin!
Then she thought back to the conversation she'd had this afternoon, with the person she really went to for advice:
"Passion's like fire, Faith. If you don't care for it, nurture it, it can slacken, and even go out. It's a slow, insidious thing -- you might not even be aware of it while it's happening. But one day you turn around, and poof! It's dead. Gone. And once it's gone, who knows if you can ever get it back again.
"On the other hand, you don't want to feed a fire everything you have at once, either. Sure, you can get a big, roaring flame that everyone can see for miles around, but that kind of fire can burn you -- and it'll probably burn itself out really fast.
"The answer is to go slowly. Feed the fire a little at a time. Let it grow, naturally, gradually, into something big and powerful. Make something that'll really last.
"Trust me on this, Faith -- I've got years of experience."
That's it, then. I'm not gonna jump his bones tonight, but I'm gonna make it clear that I want him . . . and that I'm gonna get him.
Soon she had arrived Sunnydale High. She frowned -- for such a large building, it looked bright and cheerful during the daytime. But in the typical Sunnydale nighttime gloom, it became downright menacing.
If I was gonna pick a building to hide the opening to Hell under, this would be the one, all right.
She pushed open the front door -- unlocked, of course -- and headed for the library.
She was halfway there when she heard a scream.
Damn!
A rescue.
She hated rescues.
Patrols were one thing. You watched for vamps, you saw them, you fought them, you dusted them. Easy. Simple.
Rescues were a lot harder. Some poor guy or girl was being chased -- or maybe already being munched on -- and you were the only thing that might save them . . . and then only if you were lucky.
She tried reaching out with her Slayer senses, seeing if she could catch a whiff of the demon . . . there!
She pulled the stake out of her pocket and took off running, following her instincts, and the occasional scream echoing through the hallways.
Just keep runnin' and yellin', girl, whoever you are, I'm comin' as fast as I can!
The trail eventually led her, ironically, to the same girls' bathroom where she'd found Willow crying just the other day, and she swore to herself.
Damn! Double damn! What the hell is that girl thinkin' with, cornering herself in the girl's toilet? If she were outside, she'd probably've climbed a tree! Dumb bitch won't last long in this town!
She sighed, and took a couple deep breaths -- she was only gonna get one shot at this.
Then she burst through the door. The girl was backed up against the wall, and the vampire was in the middle of the room, advancing on her. It whirled as Faith came in, red hair briefly obscuring its face, but Faith had been able to sense it through the door, and her stake was out and ready. She leaped, kicking the vampire up against the wall -- not far from the girl, who skittered out of the way -- and before it could recover, she slammed the stake home, right through a fuzzy pink sweater and into the creature's heart.
Red hair . . . fuzzy pink sweater . . .
Faith only had a moment or two to recognize Willow's face under the demonically distorted features before the vampire crumbled into dust.
Red . . . oh, God, Willow . . .
She almost felt like laughing, in a sick kind of way. Her just-beginning friendship with Willow had started in this bathroom, and it had ended here as well.
Am I jinxed? Is that it? Is everyone I try to get close to gonna die? Should I tell Xander to run now while he's still breathin'?
Oh, Christ, Xander . . . what'm I gonna tell Xander? His oldest friend . . .
Vaguely, Faith became aware of someone yammering at her. She turned to look at the girl she'd rescued, and got another shock.
It was Cordelia Chase.
Now Faith was glad she was in a bathroom, because she felt like she might vomit any second now.
"What's got you all green-faced, Skanky Spice? I'm the one who was in mortal peril here!"
At that point, Faith did a pretty good imitation of a vampire's growl. "That was Red I just dusted, you stupid bitch!"
"Stupid? Me, stupid? I'm not the one who got turned into a vampire and locked herself in the stupid bookcage!"
Faith did a double-take. "Bookcage?"
"Yeah, that's where I found her. Dumb, isn't it?"
No way would any vamp be dumb enough to lock itself in the bookcage. And Giles should've been around anyway . . .
The realization hit her like a sledgehammer.
Willow hadn't locked herself in the cage. Someone had locked her in there.
Hell, I can see it now: Buffy comes upon her old friend Willow, finds out she's been vamped, and is forced to fight her, knocks her down, and is ready to stake her, when she thinks, We could use Angel's curse on her and give Willow her soul back.
They must've been looking for the stuff to do the spell, and Cordy came in the library when no one else was around . . .
She glared furiously at Cordelia, and if looks could kill, the cheerleader would've been toast in half a second. Cordelia only returned the angry glare.
Stupid cow, doesn't she realize what she's done? What she's made me do?
A couple of minutes ago, Faith was wondering how to tell her best friend Xander that Willow, the girl that was like a sister to him, was dead.
Now she was wondering how to explain to him that, because of her and his rich-bitch ex, he'd lost his only chance to get Willow back.
After the fight at the Bronze, Angel and Buffy went off to investigate the lead on Trick that Angel had dug up, while Xander, Willow, and Oz accompanied Giles back to the library, the Watcher gently but firmly guiding the strange girl called Anya along in front of him. Anya continued to glare at all of them the whole time, but she didn't say anything -- not that there was anything strange about this, since they had gagged her before leaving the Bronze. They weren't afraid she would yell for help or anything like that, but her constant whining and ranting about what she would do to them -- especially the men -- after she got her powers back had been driving them all crazy.
Xander couldn't help sneaking a couple glances at Willow as she walked next to her boyfriend. She was still wearing her vampire double's clothes, but she had borrowed Oz' jacket, which hid the way the tight leather top exposed and emphasized her cleavage.
"Gosh, look at those." Xander shook his head and chuckled to himself. Willow's Homecoming dress had made her look grown-up and womanly; that thing, on the other hand, made her look dead sexy -- "dead" being the operative word, he supposed, given how she'd gotten it.
He had enough control over himself that he didn't think he would do anything really blatant, but it was still difficult not to gape at the gorgeous young woman his lifelong friend had turned into. It'd be an incredible relief when Willow changed back into her old pink-fuzzy-sweater self.
It's a good thing I've already done the whole clothes-fluking thing with Wills, or else I'd've been scraping my tongue off the street back there when I first saw her in that getup. Wowzers.
His amused thoughts vanished instantly, however, when they reached the library. First off, he was startled to see Faith sitting at the research table -- What's she doing here? She's on curfew, confined to the apartment after dark -- and then he noticed the wide-open door of the empty bookcage.
He looked back at Faith. She looked like she'd been crying. And when she saw him looking at her, she flinched, her expression becoming ashamed and fearful.
It didn't take a genius to put at least some of it together. Oh, God. She dusted the other Willow.
Right about then, Willow and Oz must've come through the doors right behind him, because Faith's eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open.
"Red? What the hell!?" She ran right past Xander up to Willow and Oz, stopping just short of throwing her arms around the redhead the way Buffy, Xander, and Giles had. Instead, she just stood about two feet away from Willow, red-rimmed eyes open wide and mouth poised somewhere between a gape and a grin.
To Xander's complete amazement, it was Willow who took the last couple of steps to close the distance between them, and put her arms around Faith. At first, the Slayer looked frozen in shock, although Xander couldn't see her face. Then slowly, her arms came up to return Willow's hug, and Xander heard her murmur, "Goddamn, Red. I was just startin' to like you, and then I thought you were dust in the wind. Well . . . dust in the girls' bathroom, anyway." She pulled back from the embrace just enough to let her see Willow's face again.
"Girls' bathroom?" Giles asked, startled.
"Yeah," Faith answered, turning her head to look at the Watcher. "The cheerleader came 'round, and let Red -- or whoever that was -- outta the cage, and the vamp chased her into the toilet. Damn stupid place to hide, if you ask me. If I hadn't shown up, she'd've been sucked dry like a lemon."
She let go of Willow, and looked around with a confused and annoyed expression on her face. "Now, someone wanna tell me what the hell's been going on, like who the chick with the gag is, who the hell was wearin' Red's face and clothes . . . and why Red's wearin' somethin' even I would say is pretty damn kinky?" she finished with a half-leer at the redhead, who blushed fiercely.
Giles swore under his breath. "I left a message, for God's sake! Doesn't anyone check the bloody notice board in my office?"
"There's a notice board?" Faith said, looking puzzled.
Giles swore again, more loudly this time, and using phrases pungent enough to make Willow blush even harder. Faith's expression only went from puzzled to impressed, like she wanted to take notes for future reference.
They repeated the whole story to Faith, including the half-understood explanation -- via Anya -- that the vampire Willow had come from an alternate reality, where history had gone a different way. Giles wondered aloud what effect the double's removal from that other world would have on its future.
"Whatever it changes, it'll be for the better," Willow commented. "I mean, one less vampire anywhere's gotta be good, right?"
"Yeah," Faith muttered, "'Specially if there'll be another me fightin' vamps there. Glad to give myself a hand, I guess." She was holding her head in her hands as she finished that statement, looking very confused. Xander felt the same way; this alternate world stuff was fun in science fiction, but it could seriously mess with your head.
Then Faith gave her own story, including the heated exchanges between her and Cordelia. "I'd just saved her goddamn life, and she called me skanky! I know this is supposed to be a thankless calling, G-man, but does it have to be that thankless?"
"Just when Cordelia's involved, Faith," Xander cut in. "I think you have to save her life about three or four times before she'll even say, 'Thank you,' and even then she'll still insult you right after."
Giles frowned at him. "Hold it right there, Xander. I seem to recall that when Buffy, Willow, and Amy were going to be burned at the stake, you and Oz showed up too late to do anything, and Faith was nowhere to be found. It was Cordelia who offered to help me that night, by distracting the demon -- and, in fact, it was Cordelia who had the presence of mind to use the firehose to put out the bonfires. However you feel about Cordelia personally, don't let yourself forget that she has contributed to this group, and deserves some respect."
Xander flushed in anger -- and embarrassment. He hated it, but Giles was right. Every one of the Scoobies had their good and bad times, as he had told Faith so many times -- with many colorful and illustrative stories. Of course, he had tried to gloss over some of his own gaffes -- not really the worst, but the most embarrassing, like the MOO incident, and the time he'd thought Larry was a werewolf, and confronted him in the locker room . . . Eeesh! Thinking about that conversation still gave him the heebie-jeebies.
Meantime, while Willow was still a bit shaken by the knowledge that her other self had been dusted, the thing she was really panicking over was her clothes, which had been dusted along with the vampire. She looked down at her leather clothes in despair, whimpering, "Both my parents are actually home tonight! If they see me looking like this, they'll ground me for about forty years . . . or try burning me at the stake again . . . or-"
"Easy there, Red," Faith said, trying to calm her. "We're about same size; you could borrow somethin' of mine. Your folks might think you went a little wild tonight, but they won't think you're playin' 'Sit Up and Beg' with Wolfboy over there," she said with a smirk and a nod towards Oz. "But if I were you, girl, I'd toss the top, but keep those pants."
Willow blushed again. "Oh, I, um, I couldn't, uh, wear anything like, um, this again," she stammered, plucking at the pants in question.
"Jeez, why not? 'S not like you've got anything to be ashamed of," she commented with a pointed glance at Willow's legs. "A little leather, a little lace, and you'd have the guys eatin' outta your hand."
Willow shook her head. "I've already got a guy -- though not eating out of my hand, 'cause that's just kinda weird, and Oz is into Chinese food, which would be really sticky and messy-"
Faith chuckled and shrugged. "Suit yourself, Red." She smiled, and flashed Xander a quick grin. "Maybe I'll keep 'em, if I can squeeze into 'em."
Now it was Xander's turn to blush, though he hoped no one noticed. Faith in her usual tight denim jeans was bad enough -- Faith in tight black leather pants . . . Oh, Lordy Momma!
Miss Peel greeted Xander, Faith, and Willow at the door, and to his surprise, she only blinked a couple of times at Willow's outrageous outfit. The corners of her mouth twitched, though, and she muttered something under her breath. Xander couldn't make it all out, but he caught the words "Hellfire Club," which made him itch with curiosity. Yet another Emma Peel story, he supposed -- one that, if Willow's outfit brought it to mind, he'd probably never get to hear.
Faith and Willow rummaged quickly through the Slayer's closet, looking for clothes that Willow could actually fit into -- and that wouldn't give Sheila and Ira Rosenberg instant heart attacks; some of Faith's outfits were almost as bad as the vampire's had been. But they eventually settled on the black jeans, pink shirt, and black vest Faith had been wearing on her first night in Sunnydale.
Xander still thought Willow looked really, really good in those tight black jeans. He wondered if there were any way he could say that without getting killed by Willow, or Faith, or both of them at once.
Nope. Never. Not in a zillion years.
By the time Willow left, murmuring prayers that the Sunnydale Clueless Effect would still be in force when she got home, it was after midnight, and Xander and Faith were both feeling worn out. But Miss Peel stopped them before they could head to the bedroom. "Wait, Faith. Could I talk to you for a moment?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Faith said. Xander thought a moment, then stayed behind as well. Miss Peel didn't sound like she was about to lecture Faith or anything like that, but he'd had enough of mysteries for one night -- he wanted to know what was going on.
Miss Peel waved them to the sofa, and settled herself into a chair opposite them. "Faith, I just wanted to make sure you knew just how pleased Mr. Giles and I are with your performance tonight. You handled a difficult and dangerous situation, and did it entirely on your own, with no help or advance warning. But, putting aside your rescue operation for a moment, you also showed great courage and maturity on a personal level."
She leaned forward, and steepled her fingers as she looked into Faith's eyes. "It must have been very tempting for you to run away when you thought Mr. Giles, Xander, and the others would be angry with you for killing 'Willow.'"
Faith gulped audibly before replying, "Yeah . . . when Cordelia told me about that vamp being locked in the bookcage . . . I thought I was gonna be sick. I didn't think I could ever face Xander and tell him what happened." She bit her lip, and shrugged. "But . . . where would I go? These days, if I wanna run anywhere, it's to Xander, not away from him."
She smiled at him, and Xander squirmed a little in embarrassment. "'Sides, if it weren't for him, I'd probably be in a rubber room right now. And Red . . . she did for Xander what he did for me, when he was younger. If she was dead, he'd need someone to be there for him."
Xander didn't say anything -- what could you say to something like that? -- but he took Faith's hand and squeezed it gently. She smiled at him again, but there was something else in her eyes this time, and for a long moment, Xander was completely lost -- half-hypnotized by those famous "Gypsy eyes."
Miss Peel cleared her throat, and smirking slightly at Faith and Xander's embarrassed expressions as they turned back to look at her.
"I must be honest with you, Faith -- you still have a long way to go. But I believe that you have done your best to learn from your past mistakes, and to make sure they are not repeated." She paused, and Faith gave the Watcher a quick nod before she went on.
"There's something else, something more important, that I wanted to talk to you about: the rivalry that seems to exist between you and Buffy." She sighed. "I never had an older sister to feel jealous of, Faith -- but I did have a beautiful, talented, and accomplished mother, to whom I constantly felt inferior. For many years, I was sure I could never measure up to her standards. I nearly killed myself more than once trying to live up to them.
"Then one day, she asked me to make her one of those little magical bugs that I always keep handy. For some reason -- I don't remember why -- I was tired and irritable, and just asked her why she couldn't do it herself. And do you know what she told me? She can't do magic! For some reason, she was born with no talent for it at all -- even less than a 'normal' person.
"It was a revelation to me, Faith! My mother, whom I'd looked up to for all my life, who had done all these amazing things, couldn't do a simple little spell, one that I could practically do in my sleep! Did that mean I was actually better than her?
"I thought about that, for a long, long time, and I finally realized that the answer was: no, I wasn't. But I also realized that my mother was not -- and, for that matter, had never been -- better than me. We were different people, with different strengths and weaknesses. The question was not, 'Am I better than my mother?' The question was, 'Am I as good as I can be, at what I can do?'
"Faith, tracking a vampire through a building the size of Sunnydale High, using only your Slayer abilities, is an impressive feat. And you should know that Mr. Giles' diaries note that Buffy's Slayer senses are not all that strong; he has recorded several occasions when she spotted a vampire by his fashion sense," she frowned, and chuckled slightly before continuing, "long before her sensitivity to demons should have warned her of its presence. If she had been the one at the high school tonight, she would never have been able to do what you did.
"However," she added, holding up one finger, "that doesn't mean she wouldn't have saved Miss Chase. She simply would have had to find the vampire, or the girl, in some other way."
Faith frowned. "I . . . Yeah. I get it. And you're right about my Slayer senses; I can pick up demons a long ways away, and I'm just as sensitive to B -- she doesn't quite feel like a demon, but I nearly always know when she's around. And some regular folks, too -- that's how I found Red in the bathroom on Saturday. She's real easy to pick up -- 'cause she's a witch, I guess. Oh, and when Red came into the library with the others, I could tell right away she wasn't a vampire," she added.
Miss Peel's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair. "Indeed. That is very interesting, and I'd like to hear more about it . . . at another time, when it is not so late," she said, glancing at the clock and frowning.
"My point is, Faith, that we all have our strengths and our shortcomings, and you should never feel that Buffy is somehow 'better' than you -- or vice versa, for that matter. You are both unique -- and you are also both human, and far from perfect. You should never feel that you must measure yourself against her, or anyone else. You, and only you, are the best judge of whether you have given your best effort -- although, as your Watcher, it is my job to run a very close second," she added with a chuckle.
"That's something you should remember as well, Xander," she added, as he jerked to attention, surprised that she had addressed him. "You've fought recently with your friends, over them protecting you 'for your own good,' but you should never feel ashamed at letting them do what you cannot. 'Moral support' doesn't sound like much, when you're talking about fighting demons, but from Mr. Giles' diaries, it is plain that your support has kept Buffy and Faith alive just as much as your ability to wield a stake or an axe.
"Now, off to bed with both of you, before you both fall over," she said, amused, as Xander tried to cover a huge yawn with his hand.
Faith and Xander both wished her good night, then went into the room they shared. Xander started to head into the bathroom -- their standard routine was that he went in there first, giving Faith the privacy to change. But Faith stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and a quiet, "Wait, Xan."
He turned, and he barely had a chance to see her before her arms were around him and she was kissing him.
At first, he was too startled to do anything but just stand still like a fool and let himself be kissed. But as her lips moved slowly over his, and her arms pulled him closer, he found himself kissing her right back.
Sweet. That was about the only word his rapidly-melting brain cells could put together. It was strange -- he'd never have thought of using that word to describe Faith, in any way, before this moment. But right then, it was the perfect word. The only word.
When Faith finally let him come up for air, he was gasping, and only Faith's Slayer-strength embrace kept his knees from buckling.
"Xan," Faith panted. "That was . . . " She was looking into his eyes, and there was something in them -- something he'd caught a glimpse of earlier, that made him just a little bit afraid. Not of her -- never of her -- but there was something huge and important going on in there, and he didn't know what to do or say about it.
"Xander?"
"Y-y-yes?" he croaked. His throat was dry and his brain wasn't working. He'd do anything she asked right now -- heck, if she said she wanted to roast him and eat him for dinner, he'd help her pick out the right barbeque sauce -- but what was she asking him for?
"This 'just friends' thing . . . we're past that now, right?"
"Uh . . . uh-huh," he said, nodding dumbly.
She smiled at him again. "Good. 'Cause I plan on doing that a lot more." Her smile turned wicked again. "Starting tomorrow night, when you take me out on our first real date."
"Um . . . oh. Yeah. Date." He smiled, feeling very stupid. Then he realized what she'd said. "Tomorrow?" He couldn't help sounding disappointed.
She chuckled. "Yeah. Tomorrow. Another kiss like that, and neither of us is gonna get any sleep tonight." And with that, she darted off into the bathroom.
He groaned. As if I'm gonna get any sleep now anyway . . .
"Is that him?"
"Huh?" Buffy blinked. Then she squeaked, "Oh!" and jerked her attention over to where Angel was indicating, her cheeks flaming. She'd been so wrapped up in thinking about the vampire next to her that she'd forgotten about the vampire they were supposed to be tracking.
Then she got a good look at the vampire Angel was indicating. "Oh, yeah, that's him." She snorted. "I'd know Mr. I'm-Gonna-Git-You-BloodSucka anywhere. Let's do it."
"Wait!" Angel stopped her with an outstretched arm. "Something's not right here. He just came out of the magic shop with a bag -- he must've stolen some magic supplies."
"So?" Buffy shrugged. "We stake him and fish the bag out of the dust pile. Giles, Miss Peel, and Willow can tell us what he was going to do with it."
"I don't think he's doing this for himself. This is the kind of crappy job a master always sends a minion to do; he never does it himself unless it's vital. And if it were vital, he'd've been here right after sunset, not close to midnight."
"But Kakistos is Dustbuster chow, and Willy and your other sources didn't say anything about Trick taking orders from anyone else. For that matter, we haven't heard of any vamps in town that'd be strong enough to order him around."
"I know. That's what worries me." Angel frowned. "Either there's something going on that no one in this town knows about -- or they do know about it, and they're more afraid of whoever-it-is than they are of you and me."
That made Buffy worry. She was supposed to be the boogyman's boogyman -- even if they talked big, demons hated her because they were afraid of her. And even with a soul, Angel was plenty scary to guys like Willy, and the two-bit demons that frequented his bar. If there was something out there scarier than both of them . . . "So what do we do?"
Angel shrugged. "What else? We follow Trick to his boss. But we do it very quietly."
What followed was probably the most nerve-wracking half-hour that Buffy could ever remember.
She'd been in far more scary and dangerous situations than this. But Slayers weren't really designed for sneaking around, and Buffy doubly so. She was a run-right-up-and-beat-the-snot-out-of-em kinda girl, not a skulk-around-in-the-shadows-and-follow-em-to-their-lair kinda girl. Following Trick across town -- trying to stay close enough to keep him in sight, but far away enough that he wouldn't catch them -- drove her absolutely batty. She was lucky, though, in being able to play follow-the-leader with Angel, who, she privately thought, could sneak up on his own shadow.
At one point, a guy was about to pass Trick on the sidewalk, and Buffy growled, "If he even looks like he's gonna-"
Angel silenced her with an upraised hand. Then he pointed, and nodded sagely as the vampire let the man walk by unharmed. "That clinches it," he muttered sotto voce. "If he were the master here, or at least pretty sure he could get away with it, he'd've taken the time to feed. But he didn't, so he's supposed to bring those supplies back, and do it quickly . . . and he's doing it for someone he's really scared of."
That only made Buffy even more nervous.
The clincher, though, the thing that really set her alarm bells clanging, was following Trick into the building and seeing him deliver the bag of supplies to Mayor Wilkins himself. Upon witnessing that, she and Angel had taken one look at each other, and she'd been sorely tempted to run out of the building just as fast as her feet could take her. Unfortunately, even she knew that fast and sneaky just did not mix. If they were gonna get out of the building without getting caught, they had to take their time.
As soon as they hit the street, though, they both started running so fast her feet barely touched the ground.
Giles and her mother were waiting by the door, when they arrived, and not surprisingly, they were alarmed by the pair's hasty arrival. "What's the matter? Is someone after you?" the Watcher asked as they let them in.
"I don't think so," Angel answered. "It's just . . . " He glanced at Buffy, who was still breathing heavily. "We saw Trick. And his boss, too."
"His boss? Is there a new master vampire in town? Or a demon, like Balthazar?"
Buffy shook her head. "Nope. Or, at least, it's not anyone new in town." She swallowed, trying to clear her dry throat . . . and to get up the nerve to say it. Saying made it real. "Giles . . . it's the mayor."
"Mayor Wilkins? That-" He stopped suddenly, and frowned, and the furrow between his brows deepened as the ramifications ran through his head. Her mother was staring at them both like she thought they'd gone crazy -- like they'd flashed back to the night Buffy'd told her she was the Slayer.
Suddenly, Giles chuckled humorlessly.
She might have expected any number of reactions to her news, but not that. "You wanna tell me what's with the gigglefest, Giles?"
He looked at her absently. "What? Oh, I was just reminded of something Oz said at your . . . um, surprise party last year."
Trying not to think about what else had happened that night, she tried to remember. It was the first time she'd really met Oz . . . he'd seen her dust a vamp . . . Xander had broken the news that vampires existed . . . Willow had said it was a lot to take in . . . and Oz' response had been . . .
"Actually, it explains a lot."
She blinked once, twice, then stared back at Giles, and thought about the last two years. Mysterious deaths and disappearances . . . demons, vampires, werewolves, and other Hellish beasties roaming the city at will . . . a population that tended to forget anything strange as quickly as it happened . . . a police force more interested in harassing her than actually solving any crimes . . .
"Oh, yeah. It explains one helluva lot," she muttered. "Giles, we've got a problem. A big problem. So what're we gonna do about it?"
"What are we going to do? Right now, Buffy, we're going to go to bed. We're all exhausted, and you haven't even heard about what happened at the school -- everything's fine, now," he said, halting her in mid-interrupt, "but it's been a long, long night -- and I, for one, need a little sleep before planning our next move."
She glared at him a bit when she realized he wasn't going to tell her about this incident at the school; she really hated it when he did that. Telling her something had happened, and then not telling her what. Annoying British Watcher Guy . . . if my mom didn't love you, I'd so kick your butt.
She turned to Angel. "You'd better head back to the mansion. And please, don't do anything heroic and stupid, like going after Trick or the mayor by yourself?"
Before he could say anything, her mother gave Buffy an amused look and commented, "This is like onion telling garlic, 'Don't stink.'"
Giles chuckled, and even Angel cracked a smile. Buffy just tried to glare indignantly at her mom, her ex-Watcher, and her boyfriend all at the same time -- which only amused them more, as she had to turn nearly halfway around to look at all of them.
After Angel left, Giles went upstairs, presumably to take his own advice and get some sleep, but Buffy was still too hyped-up, too scared, to sleep. Luckily, her mother was an excellent judge of moods, and had two mugs of hot chocolate ready before Buffy even realized she'd put water up, and soon Buffy was spilling -- her worries about the mayor being a major baddie, Xander and Faith . . . and, of course, Angel.
At one point, she actually found herself telling her mom about how frustrating it was, being around Angel and having to keep so tightly in control. And then she stopped suddenly, hit by the mega-wiggy thought that she was sitting where Spike had probably been sitting, drinking her mother's hot chocolate and complaining about Drusilla's infidelity.
"What is it, honey?" her mother asked.
"Does everyone come to you for advice about their love lives?" Buffy found herself asking.
For some reason, that made her mother burst out laughing. "It sure looks like it, dear. I don't know why -- it's not like I've had such amazing success myself," she remarked, with a sardonic shake of her head. "But . . . right around Christmas, you were the one who told Willow to show Oz that he came first. Well, who do you think she came to for advice on how to, ah, 'set the mood?'"
"Mom!" Buffy's face was turning pink, although she didn't know whether it was a blush, or just amusement.
"She overdid it a little, though -- hitting Oz with the dress, the candlelight, and the music all at once, without giving him any time to breathe. There's something to be said for spontaneity, but a well-planned seduction has to move slowly, or you ruin the mood." Her mother's fond smile turned wicked at the end. "I loaned her that Barry White album myself, and I was hoping she'd get better results from it."
"MOM!" Now it was definitely a blush -- her cheeks were flaming!
"Buffy, I'm not dead -- as my current condition should prove," she said, rubbing her stomach slightly. "And Willow didn't think she could turn to her own mother for that kind of advice -- and who could blame her? If Sheila Rosenberg were any stiffer, she'd be a mannequin." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "And . . . well, even if things didn't go quite the way she planned, Oz certainly gave her an E for effort."
Buffy shook her head. "Anyone else dropping by that I should know about?"
Her mother abruptly changed the subject. "Buffy, if you're so frustrated being with Angel, then why don't you date other guys?"
In the back of her mind, Buffy was wondering what her mom had to hide, but she just rolled her eyes, and gave her a Duh, why didn't I think of that? look. "Been there, done that, Mom. Dating's hard enough as it is; add the Slayer factor, and it becomes uber-impossible. I managed to totally freak out Scott Hope a few times even before Angel made his re-entry from parts unknown; after he came back, I was barely giving Scott the time of day, and he dumped me. I actually thought about dating a college guy once -- he tried to feed me to a snake demon. And I don't even want to go into Owen the adrenaline junkie back in tenth grade!"
She shook her head. "I know it's impossible, Mom . . . but I can't help it. I'm in love with Angel. I need to figure out a way to make this crazy Romeo-and-Juliet situation work, 'cause I don't think anything else ever will."
Her mother stared at her a long time, before saying, "We've never really had a heart-to-heart about Angel, have we? Just the half-truths and cover stories. First he was your college-student tutor, then he was your abusive boyfriend who taunted me in front of the house, then he's a bad vampire trying to end the world, now he's a good vampire . . . " She shook her head.
Buffy was starting to feel that Oh-my-God-it's-late pressure behind her eyes, and she knew she'd be half-dead tomorrow unless she went right to bed. But . . . this was too good an opening to pass up. If she won her mom over, she was sure Giles would be putty in their hands.
So she just held out her empty mug, saying, "Re-chocolate me, and I'll give you the whole story, Mom. Right from our first day in Sunnydale."
"So, what do you have for us, Willow?" Giles asked.
Willow looked up from the other side of the living room. "Well, since I only started this morning, I haven't had enough time to complete my research, but there's definitely something kinda funky about the Wilkins family."
She glanced down at her notes, then went on, "There's always been a Richard Wilkins in Sunnydale -- Richard Wilkins the First founded the town in 1899, and was its first mayor. He had that job for four terms, eventually just stepping down in 1915. His son, Richard Wilkins Junior, was mayor from 1947 to 1959, and Richard the Third -- no hunchback jokes, Giles -- was elected eight years ago. None of them have been remarkable in any other way, and they never went on to do anything else politically; they just stayed in town in that big house out on Tomkins Road."
Giles pursed his lips. "And what about the various Misses Wilkins, or any siblings?"
Willow shrugged. "I can only find records for two wives, and not much at that -- for Richard the First, I found a marriage to Edna May Dalton in 1903. Richard Junior supposedly married an out-of-town girl in the late fifties, but there's no official record here in Sunnydale, or in the State of California databases. I haven't had a chance to try Nevada or Arizona yet."
"Any signs of . . . unusual activities by any of them?" Miss Peel asked.
"No, not unless you count the fact that Number One built a town around the Hellmouth," she replied with a shrug.
Xander held up a hand. "Wait a second, guys. Anyone remember that big stone with the writing on it by the front door of the school?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "It's called a cornerstone, Xander. And yes, I remember. It records the date the school was built, 1954 . . . hey!" her eyes suddenly widened. "That's right! The school was built when Richard Junior was mayor!"
"And it was placed smack dab on top of Ye Olde Hellmouth," commented Xander. "Anyone starting to detect a pattern here?"
Giles nodded. "Very good, Xander. It would seem that Sunnydale -- and the high school in particular -- has a purpose, one that has taken three generations and one hundred years . . . wait, that can't be right, can it?" He looked back up at Willow. "Willow, how old was Richard Wilkins the First when he founded Sunnydale?"
"Umm . . . " She checked her notes. "Thirty-four."
"And when was Richard Junior born?"
"The year before he retired, 1914."
"Which would make him forty-nine -- very late to be having a child--" He stopped as Xander, Buffy, and Willow developed sudden coughing fits. He glared at them, but did not respond otherwise. "--especially considering he'd already been married for fifteen years. And our current mayor, when was he born?"
"1958, the year before his father . . . retired." Willow frowned. "Looks like another pattern here -- each one had their son after age forty, and a year before they left office."
"Curiouser and curiouser," Giles muttered under his breath. Then, more loudly, "All right, Willow, you go on with your computer work; the rest of us will begin searching the books for anything about the Hellmouth that would explain why a person, as opposed to a demon, would choose to live on top of it."
"Um, excuse me," Xander said, raising his hand. "Since I just made my major contribution for the evening, is there any chance I can get Faith and me excused from the research party -- for a few hours, at least?"
Giles blinked at him, "Well, Xander, I-" He broke off suddenly, then glanced at Faith, who was chewing her lip, and Miss Peel, who gave him a grin and a slight nod, before answering (with an exaggerated sigh), "All right, you two can go. But please be back here by nine; Buffy's been looking a bit off all day, and I want someone to relieve her so she can catch up on her sleep."
"Sure thing, G- er, Giles." Everyone smirked as Xander cut off his usual nickname. Guess he's finally learning not to annoy the guy who just did him a favor, Willow thought, then turned her attention back to her laptop.
Angel arrived soon after Faith and Xander left, and Giles sent him over to the school to fetch some books that had been missed in the first round of moving. This led to much pouting and complaining from Buffy.
"Why didn't you send me to get those books an hour or two ago?" Buffy asked. Her question was immediately followed by a huge yawn.
"That's why," Giles answered pointedly. "I don't know why you were up until all hours last night with Joyce, but you're definitely off your game today, Buffy."
The Slayer continued to sigh and make unhappy faces until Angel came back. Giles (and everyone else, except for Willow, who made a few sympathetic comments) ignored her the whole time.
They broke at six for dinner -- another simple-but-yummy masterpiece by Mrs. Summers, who noted -- to everyone's amusement -- that with Faith and Xander absent, there were actually leftovers this time around.
Then it was nose back to the old grindstone, and by eight-thirty, Willow's eyes were beginning to ache from staring at her screen for so long. She had just shut them for a moment to rest them, when she felt a familiar presence suddenly move in close to her, and then Oz' magic fingers began massaging her temples.
"MmmMmmmRrrrr," she purred, as she relaxed against his chest. Oz might be part wolf nowadays, but Willow was beginning to feel more and more catlike as she delved deeper into her Wicca studies -- and as she and Oz slowly moved towards "that thing" that she'd offered to do with him at Christmas. She'd never known how sensual she could be, until Oz started doing this kind of thing with her -- massaging her temples, rubbing her back . . . and other stuff . . .
She heard Buffy giggle at her, and she opened one eye lazily to peer at the blonde, who was leaning against Angel and trying -- and failing -- to cover her giggles with one hand. She gave Willow a quick thumbs-up and an eyebrow waggle. Willow only shook her head slightly, then closed her eyes again to enjoy her boyfriend's TLC.
After a few minutes, she thanked Oz, sat up, and stretched. "I'm not finding much of anything, guys," she complained. "In New York, L.A., San Francisco, all this stuff'd be digitized and readily available online, but all I'm getting are references to documents at the Sunnydale Hall of Records."
"Then I would suggest that your next stop be the Hall of Records," Giles commented. "Tomorrow, why don't Oz and I accompany you there, while Buffy and Angel go on recon again. And this time," he pointed out to the latter pair,"if you see Trick, take him out. We know who his boss is now, and we might as well deprive the mayor of as many resources as possible."
"Yessir, Watcher sir," Buffy said with a chuckle and a yawn.
Giles sighed and removed his glasses. "Buffy, go upstairs and get some sleep. Faith and Xander will be here to take over in less than twenty minutes, and you're not getting any research done anyway."
She pouted at him. "You're not my dad yet, Giles." Then the pout turned into a lazy smile. "But I love you anyway, you stuffy British guy, you."
Giles had a severe coughing fit.
Willow only wondered why it'd taken this long for Buffy to actually say it.
"Xan, are we going in there?" Faith said as she realized he was walking towards a sign that read Sorge's Italian Restaurant.
"What?" Xander said as he looked back at her. "You thought we were heading to MickeyD's for a greaseburger and fries?" He chuckled. "We may end up there a lot in the future, but I figured for our first night out you might like something a little nicer."
"I dunno, Xan," she said, looking at the building, and then down at her clothes -- her typical white tank top and black jeans. "This isn't the kind of place where you hafta get dressed up, is it?"
"Oh, yeah, and I'm wearing the latest in high fashion, see?" he said, lifting his hands to show off his own typical casual-and-messy look. "Don't worry, Faith -- people come here to eat good, not look good. C'mon."
He was right about what people wore to this place, Faith noticed -- she might've been out of place if she'd had on a torn T-shirt and ratty jeans, but just about anything else seemed to be acceptable. The hostess seemed to know Xander, but blinked in surprise when she saw Faith with him. Even after she led them to her table, she continued to glance at Faith every now and then -- not in contempt, or Faith would've been in her face right away. She just seemed . . . puzzled.
Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. "What's with these looks that girl keeps givin' me? She know you, Xan?"
"I used to come here with Willow sometimes, when my parents were having one of their really bad fights and hers were out of town. Not on dates," he added hurriedly, "just a couple friends who didn't have any place else to go.
"Louisa there," he nodded to the hostess,"is Mr. Sorge's daughter, and she's been the hostess here as long as I've been coming here -- eight years. And in all that time, I've only come by myself, or with Willow." He chuckled. "She's nice, but she's really nosy -- she always used to ask Willow and me if we were dating yet." He sighed. "Back then, I used to think it was funny."
Then he grimaced, and shook his head. "And that will be the last time tonight I talk about Willow, or any girl other than you; I promise."
Faith had just been about to say something about that, and was actually a little flattered that Xander had thought of it himself. She didn't mind talking to him about his friendship with Willow -- now that it was firmly established as a friendship, and nothing more. But it was not what she wanted to talk about on a date!
So instead, she only raised her eyebrows and grinned at him. "I'll give you somethin' to talk about -- what do I order?" She frowned down at the menu. "I'm only a poor half-Irish girl from Southie -- I don't know a damn thing about Italian food. Sure, I can say 'spaghetti and meatballs,' but I'd look like a moron, wouldn't I?"
He cocked his head. "Not really -- I told you they specialize in pasta here. The spaghetti's one of the most popular items on the menu." He glanced at the short list of Tonight's Specials and pointed to it. "I guarantee, if you pick one of these at random, you won't be sorry, but you can always ask for help."
Faith closed her eyes, waved her hand around a bit, and dropped her finger on the menu. Then she opened her eyes and looked at what she'd "picked." "Lingoo . . . um, Linguine Carbonara. That any good?"
Xander's only response was a huge grin -- and a gentle correction of her horrid pronunciation of "linguine," so she wouldn't embarrass herself in front of the waiter.
Forty-five minutes later, Faith had devoured three pieces of garlic bread, a small salad, and the biggest goddamn bowl of pasta she'd ever seen in her life. Carbonara sauce, it turned out, was eggy and tangy, with bits of a spicy Italian ham -- "prosciutto," the waiter had called it.
And it had been so damn good, she'd wondered if she would have an orgasm in the middle of the main course.
She started to wipe her mouth with her hand, but stopped hserself just in time and used the napkin instead. Then she leaned back in her chair, stretched, and gave a contented belch. "Xan . . . that was somethin' else," she said, rubbing her very full stomach.
He grinned at her. "Yeah. There's some fancy places downtown where you have to pay forty or fifty bucks for dinner, but I can't imagine their food is any better than here. If I could afford it, I'd eat here every night."
She just returned his grin. Then she let the grin turn wicked, thinking, Time to have some fun. "The only thing that would make this night any better would be if we could go home right now, so I could have you for dessert."
Predictably, Xander went completely non-verbal for a while. In fact, when the waiter came along a few minutes later, and asked if they wanted any dessert, he was still unable to reply. Faith had to stifle her laughter long enough to tell him, "No, thank you."
When Xander could finally get whole words out again, he said, "Please, Faith . . . don't do that again." Suddenly he made his voice sound like an old man's, croaking, "I'm eighteen years old; my poor heart can't take much more."
Faith chuckled at his reply, but she could tell that there was a certain seriousness behind his request. "Was I really being . . . mean, doing that to you, Xander? It's just . . . I've been cooped up, and feeling like crap for so long, and I still can't patrol or do anything . . . gettin' a rise outta you is about the only fun I can get."
He shrugged. "I can take a little teasing, Faith . . . but that was a Slayer-strength tease. You could 'get a rise' out of a dead man, Faith, and I don't mean the kind that actually walk around, y'know?"
Her expression softened. Fun was one thing, but . . . "That wasn't a tease, Xander. Call it . . . looking forward to something."
She reached a hand across the table, and waited for Xander to take it in his own before speaking. "I want you, Xander. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. And I'm gonna get you . . . just like you're gonna get me.
"But I'm not gonna screw this up the way I've screwed up nearly everything else in my life, Xander. So . . . it's not gonna be tonight. Or tomorrow night, either. But it'll be soon. And it'll be really, really good." She gave him another wicked smile, trying to think Promising, not teasing. "I'll treat you so good you'll never look at another girl again."
Then she turned down the heat on her smile and said, "Now, we got more than an hour before we hafta be back at B's. Let's go dancin' at the Bronze, like we were supposed to last night."
Xander took several deep breaths -- exaggerating every one, of course -- before saying, "Sure. Just . . . gimme a few minutes. I don't think my legs will work right, just now."
Faith decided she'd had enough of "getting a rise" out of Xander for one night -- and besides, she remembered his story about Buffy teasing him mercilessly on this very dance floor, then leaving him high and dry. So she held back a little when she danced with him that night; she kissed him occasionally, and let herself gaze into his eyes for a few long moments, but she didn't rub up against him or flash a lot of skin at him.
She still had a fantastic time. And was still sorely tempted to drag Xander out back and tear his clothes off.
She might have even given in to that temptation, if a certain annoying voice hadn't cut in during one of the slow dances:
"Oh my God, this is so perfect!"
Xander and Faith turned to see Cordelia, swaying in the arms of a tall, blond, probably brain-dead jock, and grinning maliciously at them. "You two look just . . . I don't know what to say." She shook her head in seeming disbelief. "I just can't decide -- which one of you should be more ashamed to be seen with the other? The skank, or the loser?"
"Cordelia-" Xander started, but Faith cut him off.
"Y'know, you're some piece o' work, Cheer-girl. I saved your friggin' life last night, and now you call me a skank. An' I don't know how many times Xander's saved your butt, and you call him a loser." She glanced at Xander, who was looking fearful -- he probably figured she was about to get violent.
Fat chance. Rich girl like her, I hit her and she goes cryin' to a lawyer, or the cops.
She gave Cordelia her most disdainful look. "Way I see it, there ain't nothin' I can do to you that's worse than what you're already doin' to yourself. You're blowin' off the only people in the world who ever gave a damn about you, instead of your daddy's money. You can buy a dozen morons like him," she jerked a thumb at Cordelia's date, who only blinked at her stupidly, "but at the rate you're goin', you'll never have a friend worth having again in your whole life. And that's what I call a loser."
She started to turn away, then looked back. "Oh, and by the way, next time you're in trouble? You better hope B's willin' to save your sorry ass."
If looks could kill, then Faith and Xander would've been dead a dozen times over before they left the Bronze. As it was, they had a wonderful time enjoying each other's company before heading off to the Summers-Giles house, where they joined a research party already in progress.
Walking down Main Street Sunnydale, Giles wondered for the hundredth time if what he was doing was a good idea.
This will almost certainly aggravate the tension that still exists between Buffy and Faith. Even Miss Peel can see that, and she's been in town less than two weeks. Maybe I should just . . .
No. Buffy was right. Tension or no tension, we owe her this much.
Now I only have to find her, in a town of over thirty thousand people.
By sheer luck -- whether it was good or bad, he couldn't quite say at the time -- he found her very quickly. She was, predictably, in a clothing store, admiring a dress on one of the racks. She didn't even notice him as he entered the store.
"Cordelia?"
She whirled as he said her name, letting out a little yelp of surprise and nearly knocking over the rack of dresses. "Giles!" She gave him a look he couldn't quite interpret, then quickly put on an annoyed-and-much-put-upon expression. "Okay, which one of them sent you? Xander or Faith?"
He blinked in surprise, then remembered that Xander and Faith had mentioned encountering Cordelia at the Bronze. Obviously a lot more had happened than either one had been willing to admit. "Neither one of them. Is there a reason either of them would have 'sent me' -- if I were of a mind to do their bidding?"
For once, Giles was glad of Cordelia's infamous lack of tact. She left nothing out -- from her own comments or from Faith's.
"Cordelia, I must apologize for Faith's behavior, and you have my word that she will be reprimanded. No matter what the provocation, she had no right to imply that she would neglect her sacred duty to defend you if you were attacked."
Cordelia looked like she was about to say something, but at that moment, a woman came into the main area of the store from a back room, saying, "I believe that's everything, Miss Chase. I've left your resume on the manager's desk, and we'll let you know when she's made her decision. Thank you for stopping by."
As a Watcher, heir to a tradition hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, Giles had as keen a sense of dignity as any man, and he had suffered his own share of humiliations and losses of face in the past. But he had no words for the fury and embarrassment he read in Cordelia's face at that moment.
"Go on," she growled. "Now you can go back to Buffy and Xander and the rest of them, and tell them what you saw. That Cordelia Chase, the Queen Bitch of Sunnydale High, had to apply for a part-time position as a sales girl."
The vehemence of her statement drove the unspoken question Why are you doing this? completely from his head, and instead he asked, "And why should I do that, you foolish girl? For that matter, why do you think I or anyone else would take any pleasure in your unhappiness?"
She snarled at him. "Don't tell me you don't know Xander will be doing handstands and taking out full-page ads in the school paper when he hears about this."
He flushed. Well, she does have a point there. "If you're assuming he's going to find out from me, Cordelia, you're assuming wrongly. I have no intention of telling Xander, or anyone else for that matter, of this incident. However," he said, holding up a hand, to forestall any reply she was about to make, "I would appreciate it if you would give me a few more minutes of your time."
She shrugged. "Whatever. It's not like I have anywhere to go."
He accompanied her out of the store, and he indicated a direction. There was a little idea forming in the back of his head, and he hoped it would work out. "If I may be so bold, may I ask-"
"Why I need a job?" Cordelia cut him off. "Turns out my dad hasn't paid his taxes in, like, ever, so the IRS came along and took everything. Bank accounts, house, cars, clothes, everything. I was hoping to get that job at April Fool's so I could afford one last nice dress for the Senior Prom."
"And then what?"
She shrugged. "Go to L.A., maybe, try to get into acting or modeling."
"And what about college? I know your SAT scores were superb-"
"I'll probably get into several schools, but there's no way I could get a scholarship, and that's the only way I could afford anything now."
"You're wrong," he stated flatly.
She looked at him in surprise.
"It would be hard, I grant you," he allowed, "and you'd probably have to go to school part-time, and mostly in the evening, but if you want to, you can work and get an education at the same time."
"Doing what? I'm only a so-so typist, and waiting tables would only earn me enough to barely get by."
Giles couldn't help grinning. The timing was perfect. "Here we are," he announced, gesturing dramatically at their destination, the Sunnydale Art Gallery.
"-and this one, the colors are gorgeous and the mood is upbeat, but it would clash horribly with a white wall as it is. You should put a nice thick frame on it, maybe in a dark brown or gold to set it off. And this-"
Joyce watched and listened in astonishment as Cordelia went around the gallery, giving her own point of view and suggestions for each piece. Giles grinned to himself -- he'd hoped the girl's taste and color sense would extend to the world of art, but he hadn't been sure until now. Furthermore, Cordelia was accustomed to dealing with well-heeled guests at her father's house, so she would likely be able to work well with the art dealers Joyce had to deal with on a regular basis, as well as with the kind of clientele she wanted to attract.
Finally Joyce had had enough. "All right, Cordelia, you've convinced me. We'll give this thing a trial run -- for a few weeks you'll deal with customers from three until six on weekdays, and from nine to five on Saturday. When there are no customers -- and there might not be, this is a slow time for us -- I'll be giving you pointers on how to be an art buyer. There are lots of things they can teach you in school, but it's all a waste unless you have the right . . . feel. I think you've got it; all I really need to do is show you how to use it.
"If this works out in the long term, you'll become a full-time art buyer and salesperson over the summer and into the fall, when I'll be too pregnant to work or travel as much, and you'll continue as my buyer after little Andrew is born." She smiled fondly at Giles -- who couldn't help smiling back at her until his cheeks ached -- before continuing, "After I'm able to travel again, we'll sit down and come to a mutual decision about whether or not you would continue here. My suggestion would be that you save up your money and go to school for a degree in fine arts or interior design. You have a talent, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste."
"You really think so?"
Giles blinked at the honest, open surprise in Cordelia's face. He wondered just how often her parents praised her for anything. Not often, it seems -- no wonder the poor girl was thinking of working as a part-time shop girl; they never let her know she was good for anything else.
"Yes, I do," Joyce answered her. "Now, there's going to be a lot of work, and I can't make any guarantees until I see you 'in action,' so to speak . . . but I've always had good luck when it came to hiring people, and I've got a good feeling about this. Can I expect you tomorrow at three sharp?"
"Three sharp!" Cordelia answered with a grin. "Thanks, Mrs. Summers." Then she turned to leave.
Suddenly Giles called out, "Wait, Cordelia!" and ran after her.
She turned back around as he caught up to her on the sidewalk. "Oh, I'm sorry, Giles -- thank you so much for doing this for me. And for-"
"You're welcome, Cordelia, it was no trouble at all. But the reason I called to you was that I'd completely forgotten to mention why I'd come looking for you in the first place."
He paused, and cleared his throat. "Miss Peel is going to be teaching self-defense classes -- aikido, judo, and so forth -- not just to Buffy and Faith, but to the whole group. And . . . after the incident with the vampire double of Willow, I realized that you've attracted more than your share of the Hellmouth's attention, and with your . . . alienation, shall we say, from Xander and the others, I felt it would be a good idea if we made sure you were able to take care of yourself -- at least enough to allow you to get away from an attacker and run for help."
Cordelia frowned and crossed her arms. "And what do the others have to say about this?"
"I did not bring the matter up with Faith or Xander . . . but Buffy and Willow approve entirely. Buffy said -- and I quote -- 'Cordelia and I have never gotten along all that well, but she still helped you save me from being roasted like a hot dog.'"
He pursed his lips, suddenly glad he was having this conversation out of Joyce's hearing; the MOO incident was still a terrible embarrassment to her, even though she knew she'd been under a spell. "Now, it appears we have a slight problem -- Miss Peel's regular classes are to be given after school. Since it looks like you are going to be busy at that time, shall I tell your fourth-period study hall teacher that you will be taking that class in the library from now on?"
Cordelia's thousand-watt smile was all the answer he needed.
Joyce was still watching Rupert and Cordelia chat just outside the gallery when the phone rang.
"Hello, Sunnydale Art Gallery, may I help you?"
"Hey, Mrs. S, it's Faith. I was just calling to let you know I was still at the school. Miss Peel said it's time I started training again, so I guess I can't come out to your place after 'counseling' anymore."
Joyce shook her head. Despite the scorn she heard in Faith's voice, she was sure Miss Peel's talks with the girl had done more good than her own clandestine advice. Miss Peel was teaching Faith about responsibility, loyalty, and the like. Her own advice was more along the lines of, as Faith had put it, "How to Be a Good Girl in Ten Easy Lessons."
Well, not necessarily good good, she thought with a slight smile. I don't think anyone will ever be able to get the tease out of Faith, and with a joker like Xander, that's not really a bad thing. But she is finally learning where the borders are -- when a joke or tease becomes hurtful.
Faith was still talking. "Any chance I can see you later?"
"Umm . . . actually, Buffy's going on patrol with Angel after dinner, and Rupert is going with Willow and Oz to the Hall of Records, so I'm going to be all by myself after seven-thirty or so."
"Then how 'bout I come over to your place around eight?"
"That would be fine, Faith. As long as you tell Miss Peel where you're going -- and why."
"Awwww. Do I gotta?"
Faith had been intensely embarrassed at the idea of taking "girly lessons," which was why she'd insisted that they keep it a secret from everyone, including Buffy, Xander, and the two Watchers. But Joyce had heard them all wondering where Faith disappeared to every afternoon for too long, and she figured it was time for the secret to come out, before someone assumed her absences had a sinister motive. "Yes, Faith. You don't have to go into a lot of detail, but it's long past time you told Miss Peel you've been coming to see me."
"Ohhh, all riiight," she groaned, and Joyce grinned -- for once, Faith didn't sound like a street-smart Slayer, but like a typical teenage girl having her arm twisted. "But only if you make some of that famous hot chocolate of yours."
"Ah, I should've known -- it's not my advice you want, it's my cocoa!" Joyce declared with a chuckle. "See you at eight, Faith."
Faith was unusually prompt; Joyce wondered if Miss Peel's mild-but-firm discipline was already a positive effect on the girl.
While she was thinking of it . . . "Did Miss Peel have any problems with you coming to see me tonight?"
"Nope. In fact, I think she was kinda looking forward to having a night all to herself, although I think Xander wanted to trade robot stories."
Joyce shuddered -- Buffy and Giles had told her the whole truth about Ted, and it still gave her the heebie-jeebies to think how close she had come to being another vanished "wife" of the obsessed robot. "And what about Xander? You had your first date last night; wasn't he planning on a second tonight?"
"Nah -- he said something about our first date being so perfect he wanted to have one more day to just remember it as it was, before sullying its memory with burgers and fries."
They both smiled. That had been a deft mixture of lame excuse and sweet sentiment -- in other words, vintage Xander Harris. "And was it? Perfect?"
Faith's eyes twinkled. "Just about. We had pasta at this Italian place Xander knows -- and no offense to your cooking, Mrs. S, but that took over as the best damn meal I ever had. Then we went dancing at the Bronze, where the only bad thing was bumping into Xan's bitchy ex."
Joyce had to control her expression at Faith's mention of Cordelia. She hoped it wouldn't ruin her friendship with Faith when she found out she'd given Cordelia a job. "And how was the, ah, dancing?" she asked.
"Well, Xander is kind of a spaz most of the time, but he slow-dances okay." Her expression turned almost wistful as she finished, "And he kisses like a friggin' god."
Joyce blinked in surprise. "Xander? Kisses like a god?"
"Yeah." Faith grinned wickedly. "After the second or third kiss, I was so wet I was practically swimming."
"Faith!" Joyce exclaimed, putting her hands to her mouth and blushing hotly. Faith's matter-of-fact attitude towards sex could still shock her -- and it also infuriated her, when she thought about how Faith had been forced into gaining all that experience.
If I didn't have good feelings about Miss Peel -- and if we didn't have Baby Andrew coming -- I'd be talking to Buffy and Rupert about taking Faith in. She needs a mother.
Oh, Joyce Ellen, she chided herself, you can't be everyone's mother, even if they do all come to you for cocoa and advice.
She still gave Faith a grin and said, "Why don't I get that hot chocolate, so you can tell me more about your 'perfect date.'"
Two hours and two big mugs of chocolate later, Faith had dished the dirt -- and Joyce had spilled the beans. As she had feared, Faith did get angry when she found out that Joyce had given Cordelia a job. But when Joyce made it clear that Cordelia would be working her tail off, with no special treatment because of her money -- and she made sure not to repeat what Rupert had told her about Cordelia's father -- Faith relented a bit.
"Besides, dear," Joyce insisted. "No matter how you feel about Xander, Cordelia has a perfect right to be furious with him."
"Well, she's been pretty nasty to me too," she griped. "But why shouldn't I stand up to her for Xan? Isn't that what a good girlfriend is supposed to do?"
"Well, maybe -- to a point," she allowed. "You should support Xander . . . but you also have to let him fight his own battles -- and face up to his own mistakes. No matter how you look at it, cheating on Cordelia was wrong. I wish she could find a little forgiveness in her heart, but cheating's a cardinal sin in my book, and if she wants to strain her back carrying around a grudge like that, it's not your place to tell her 'no.'"
Although, she thought to herself, there's nothing stopping me from dropping a few hints at work . . . if all these kids are going to be traipsing in-and-out of my gallery and my home at all hours, I at least want them to be doing it without throwing my nice vases at each other!
Then she decided to tackle something head on. "There's something else I think you should remember, Faith. Friends, and even lovers, fight sometimes. It's just the way people are -- no matter how well you get along, you can't agree on everything. Look how mad you just were at me, because I hired Cordelia! For a while there, what I did really hurt your feelings, even though that's the last thing I'd want to do. But, are you still angry?"
"No," Faith answered with a grimace, "I guess not."
"Well, someday the same thing might . . . no, the same thing will happen between you and Xander. No, let me finish," she said, forestalling a protest from Faith with one hand. "Nobody's perfect, Faith. People make mistakes, no matter how good their intentions are. And someday Xander is going to say or do something that just, well-"
"Pisses me off?" Faith ventured.
"Um . . . yes, that. Anyway, it may not be his fault, or your fault, or anybody's fault . . . but you'll still get mad at him, and yell at him, and he might yell back, or he might sulk, or run off, or . . . something. The point is to keep in mind, even when you're angry, that you still care about him . . . and when you've cooled off, you should go right to him and work things out. If you don't . . . well, bad things happen.
"I think that's what happened with me and Buffy's dad. We fought -- and then we never apologized, never 'kissed and made up.' We just let these grudges grow, and grow, until one day we realized that we didn't love each other any more -- heck, we could barely stand each other's company. And when Buffy ran away from home -- I let fear and anger get the better of me, and I said things that I shouldn't have . . . and by the time I realized that I wanted to apologize, she'd already left, and I had to wait four whole months to see her again.
"Just remember, Faith -- even when you're angry at someone, sometimes you have to hold back a little. Even if you think someone's hurt you, you shouldn't try to hurt them back."
And then, on impulse, she leaned over and hugged her.
Faith froze for a moment . . . and then her arms came up and she was hugging Joyce back, hard enough that she felt her ribs creak a little.
My God . . . I've never met anyone so starved for simple physical affection. No wonder Xander can take away her nightmares just by holding her while she sleeps . . . and no wonder the two of them fit so well together. Everyone in town knows about Tom and Patty Harris -- Willow and Buffy just might be the only people who've ever hugged Xander in his whole life.
Just then, she remembered an old song from Damn Yankees: "Two lost souls, on the highway of life . . . " Oh, that's Xander and Faith, all right. They'd fall apart on their own, but leaning against each other, they hold each other up.
Then Faith's bonecrushing hug finally got to her. "Ah . . . um . . . Faith . . . tight squeeze, here . . . "
"Oh!" She suddenly let go and backed off, and Joyce regretted saying anything as soon as she saw the girl's sorrowful expression.
"Don't worry, Faith, I'm all right," she said with a disarming chuckle. "At least no one can say that hug wasn't heartfelt." And ribfelt, too, she added silently, rubbing her side gently.
Rupert, Willow, and Oz returned first, with the startling news that there apparently was no Richard Wilkins the Third. The same Richard Wilkins who had founded Sunnydale a hundred years ago was still living today, and was sitting in the mayor's office in City Hall.
"This puts an entirely new complexion on things," Rupert said gravely. "The level of magics required to keep a human -- we are still presuming he's human -- alive for a hundred years, without aging . . . " He frowned. "It also seems likely that his periodic reappearances as the mayor of Sunnydale have a purpose, since every time he does it he risks discovery. If only we knew what he was up to . . . "
Just then, Buffy came in from patrol. "Hey Giles, ever hear of something called the Books of Ascension?"