There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been: A people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, important, fearful, and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and death…There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less.
— Annie Dillard, For the Time Being
Faith nervously tapped her fingers on the motel room's phone and debated calling Angel.
She snorted with disgust. Little-Miss-I-Don't-Need-Nobody had somehow turned into Little-Miss-Needy. First, there was her odd fuck-buddy relationship with Robin and now there was the overwhelming urge to talk to Angel. If she kept this up, she was going to need an entourage the size of Buffy's just to go to the bathroom.
She jumped off the bed and began pacing the room as her mind continued to circle on itself. So much had changed so fast since leaving Sunnydale that she was pretty sure she had managed to cram a whole year's worth of living in two short weeks. For the first time in a long time she could actually see a future for herself, several futures actually.
Unfortunately, most of them involved her fleeing the country because she was still an escaped convict with a murder charge hanging over her head. *Wonder if they'll send the CIA or the FBI or whatever they call the international cops to hunt me down if I make a run for South America. Fuck. Maybe they're too busy looking for What's-His-Face in Iraq to give a shit about one run-away murderer,* Faith thought.
Then there was the fact that she was no longer the Chosen One, well, one of the Chosen Two anymore. Now she was one of hundreds — possible thousands — just another face in an exclusive sorority. *Lookit that, one more big honkin' sign that I can do what I want, where I want, when I want and no one is gonna be givin' me the big speech about my duty, destiny, or some other bullshit about the greater good,* Faith thought.
The thing that really scared her was that in the face of all this freedom jumping up and down and screaming "Take me, I'm yours" she found something appealing about walking into the closest police station and turning herself in. Something in her wanted and needed the structure, the bars, hell, the chains to define her world and set her limits.
"Christ, I'm turning into such an old lady," Faith grumbled.
She stopped by the phone, hand hovering over the receiver as she silently considered her options. She needed advice and there was no one she could approach. Robin would tell her what she should do rather than ask what she wanted; her connection with Giles was strained at best; and drill sergeant Buffy was in her tight-assed control freak glory as she made plans for everyone and barked orders. She highly doubted that Buffy was capable of seeing past her own nose to offer anyone anything resembling constructive advice.
Faith snarled to herself, grabbed her pack of cigarettes, stalked over to the window, and flung it open with an angry yank. She leaned out and lit the nicotine stick, drawing in the smoke while her mind ticked over to the two other Scoobs who might even come close to understanding where she was coming from.
Willow fell into the "yeah, right" category. Faith couldn't really imagine sitting down with the witch to discuss their shared history of murder, mayhem, and the rocky road to redemption over a pitcher of beer, that's even assuming she could drag her away from Kennedy long enough to involve a conversation that didn't involve tongues in intimate places.
Xander had her beat with thirteen bodies behind him, but he was suffering from a rain of body blows that left him a shell of himself. Since Sunnydale disappeared, the body may have been present, but the mind had taken a vacation. He had also locked himself in his room with a finality that should have worried his friends.
So that left one option for a formerly murderous bad-ass chick in serious need of advice. "Who ya gonna call?" Faith sang under her breath as she tossed the Camel away with an expert flick, not bothering to check if someone was underneath her window. She slammed the window shut with a quick nod and returned to the phone, her movements more certain, and dialed the Hyperion.
Faith didn't worry when she was able to count off ten rings. Hell, she didn't even worry when she lost count of the rings. When the automated operator cut in and informed her that her party could not be reached and disconnected her with a click, that's when she began to worry.
Xander had a rhythm going.
He would walk a few paces, stop, and stare blankly ahead for exactly twenty seconds. He'd then walk a few paces more, stop, and stare blankly ahead for exactly another twenty seconds. The cycle repeated itself until he reached the innocuous motel room door. He stared at the brass-plate numbers, his one eye tracing each numeral until his mind registered the 1-3-7. *All prime numbers, numbers that can only be divided by one or themselves,* his unfocused mind realized. He didn't even question the fact that some smidgeon of basic math was lodged in his brain like a poison dart. The fact that Buffy was residing in a room with nothing but prime numbers seemed significant on some level that he couldn't bear contemplating.
He reached out and nearly touched the numbers before pulling his hand away with the suddenness of someone who was sure he'd be burned if he dared make contact. Prime numbers, so different from his own room number of 4-6-8, all numbers that could be divided in half. There was certain rightness to that, as if the universe couldn't resist the ugly reminder that he was divided against himself.
A deep breath to steel his nerves and he gently knocked.
"Come in," chirped an annoyingly cheerful voice.
Xander took another deep breath, grasped the handle, and opened the door.
Buffy looked up from her magazine and flashed him a bright smile. "Xander! You made it out of your room!"
Xander fought the urge to mumble an apology and leave. Instead, he forced himself to take another step into the room and let the door shut behind him. The soft click as the lock caught sent a shiver down his spine. *It's just Buffy, it's just Buffy, it's just Buffy*…his mind recited.
Her smile sank without a trace. "Yeah. It's bad, isn't it?" She sighed, closed the magazine, and put it aside. "Funny how people react, hunh? You hide in your room so no one sees you torn up about Anya and I throw myself into the work so I can forget about Sp…" she snapped her mouth shut.
"I need time," Xander blurted out.
"I understand. If anyone understands, I understand." She smiled a soft, sad smile. "Funny how we finally understand each other. Two deaths…"
"More. Not everyone fled town before we started battling the First," Xander quietly interrupted.
Buffy's eyes closed. "How many people? How many people are…"
"Red Cross lists 246 people are among the missing, including my parents," Xander softly answered.
"Oh, Xander. God. I'm sorry. I don't know what to…"
"Then don't."
"Is that the final count? Are they sure?"
Xander shrugged. "The number is down from the original estimate since some people started running early in the battle. Some of the missing are showing up in dribs and drabs in surrounding towns, so the Red Cross is hopeful."
"Maybe your parents will…"
"They won't," Xander interrupted.
"How do you…" Buffy began. She winced. "That Monty Python thing? That how you know?"
Xander hoped he didn't offer a reaction that could be read, although the knot in his stomach twisted and dropped. "It's Pythian, and no. Experience talking. My parents were probably dead drunk when the fireworks started. So, no, no newsflashes from the Psychic Friends Network, especially since my connection crashed right after Giles dropped his little bombshell on me."
A bitter chuckle escaped the blonde Slayer's lips. "Yeah, Giles was big on the Blitzkrieg action back then. That's just before he decided to join forces with Robin to put the smackdown on Spike behind my back."
Xander suppressed a smile. How could he possibly have doubts about this woman? She still had the knack for making everyone's troubles all about her. Uncharitable thinking like that, but also heartbreakingly true. "That would be the time, yeah," Xander agreed. "Still not getting anything but cold shivers. Probably just post-traumatic stress kicking in."
"Guess all that news about your 'demon heritage' was big on the angst, not so big on the practical application," Buffy shrugged. She gave him a speculative glance and Xander sensed the Slayer inside was re-evaluating him. "Maybe it never worked right. Or at all. Maybe the 'seer' stuff only went to the women in the family, hunh?" She leaned back in the chair. "That's probably it. Makes sense, doesn't it? You probably just thought you were connected to all that knowledge when maybe you were just picking up on all those Hellmouth-y First-y vibes and got confused."
*Which means I probably killed thirteen people for nothing. All that blood*… Xander clamped down on the thought.
"Hey," Buffy quickly straightened up when she saw his expression. "Don't go there. Until Giles does more research, we won't know why you're as blind as a Bringer." She winced. "Sorry, Xan." She suddenly brightened. "Hey! Maybe Giles was wrong! Maybe you're just human after all!"
"Giles seemed sure…" Xander began, hating the hope that crept into his voice.
"Giles is not infallible, something I have learned intimately in the past few months," Buffy frowned.
*But you are?* Xander bit back the mental retort before it reached his mouth. He changed tact. "I thought you and Giles were good?"
"Working on it. Like you said, it'll take time," Buffy said dismissively. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to have Giles check, right? Once we get the proper equipment and research tools, we'll be able to run some tests and know for sure."
"Or I could go to the local hospital and have them run DNA tests," Xander offered.
"No," Buffy said quickly.
"Why not?"
"Well, first off, it might not prove anything. We don't know if modern medical science might pick up the difference between human and human-like-demon DNA," Buffy said. "Second, if modern medical science can pick it up and if there is something funny with your DNA, you might be facing Mulder and Scully."
"You sound like Andrew," Xander said.
"You know what I mean. We know the government knows about demons and other things that go bump in the night and we know that some bits and pieces of the Initiative are still active," Buffy reminded him. "Okay, maybe not Mulder and Scully, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to deal with Riley or his friends."
"They helped you with Spike," Xander pointed out. "I think all you have to do is ask them nicely to look away and they will."
"There's a huge difference between a single vampire and a possibly powerful seer," Buffy countered. "If you're one of these demons and if you really can access some sort of intergalactic network of evil, I seriously doubt Black Ops, the U.S. Army, and the full force of the U.S. Government is going to give a crap about what I say."
"You and the baby Slayers."
"What?"
"You and the baby Slayers," Xander reminded her. "You're not the one and only anymore."
"Come on Xander, the baby Slayers won't back me if the story comes out about what you did in Sunnydale," Buffy said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you the cold hard truth."
"But…" Xander began.
"I know it hurts to hear, especially everything you've done for them," Buffy waved a hand to indicate Xander's eye patch as an illustration of her point, "but you're forgetting they see all demons as evil and if they find out what you are and what you did…" her voice trailed off as she shrugged. "Kennedy might back me, but only because Willow would back me out of guilt, but I wouldn't bet on the support of the others. You of all people should be able to sympathize with their position, especially since you held the same point-of-view once upon a time."
"So I'm supposed to do what, then?"
"Wait. Be patient. There's a lot we have to settle and then we'll start looking into your situation," Buffy said.
Xander snorted. "I'll have a new eye by the time things get settled."
"Xander, we will. It's a definite priority." Taking note of Xander's doubtful look, Buffy added, "C'mon. You know me. The fact that you might be one of these Pissy demons and the fact you might be useful for something more than hammering a nail into wood is too good an opportunity. The Slayer part of me can't help but think, 'Shiny new weapon.' You just gotta trust me and wait."
"Regardless of what it's doing to me," Xander added in a defeated tone.
"Hey, I'm your friend. You know that. And, big newsflash, I can sympathize with having your life turned upside down because of a quirk of genetics and bad luck. Happened when I was fifteen, remember? Now it's your turn. You do have a responsibility to this team and that means you stick with us until we get this thing sorted out."
"Which brings me back to, 'I need time.'"
"Some alone time, got it," Buffy nodded.
"No. Time. Away. I have to get away," Xander stressed.
Buffy sat bolt upright. "Away? As in 'away' away? You mean 'away from your family' away? But you can't!"
"I have to. Please, Buffy," Xander begged. "First the nonstop nightmares, then the killings, which I did, believe me, I haven't forgotten. Then getting Anya back, then losing the eye, then losing Anya, followed by losing my hometown. I just can't take it. I just need a break. I'm having these horrific nightmares…"
"Nightmares?" Buffy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What kind of nightmares? Foreshadowy-I-think-I-need-to-go-on-a-demonic-killing-spree-nightmares?"
*Be careful, be careful,* Xander's mind warned. "No. Just nightmares," he slowly said. "The post-traumatic stress thing, remember? I have to walk away from all this. Just a little while. I promise to come back to wherever you and the others settle after I get my head on straight."
Buffy jumped out of her chair and began pacing. "Look, Xander. I can't stop you, right? But I just want you to think about this. Take a little time. Think about me and Willow and Dawn and the baby Slayers and how much we need you with us."
"But I am," Xander protested
"Are you?" Buffy's voice wheedled. "We need you more than ever, especially if it turns out that you really can give us the heads-up about anything Apocalypse-y. And what happens if you start channeling Al Bundy?"
Xander cringed under the assault, but he could only weakly protest, "I think you mean Ted Bundy. Al Bundy was a shoe salesman."
"You know what I mean. Xander," Buffy crossed the room, and placed a tiny hand on his shoulder, "if something happens and you lose control again, we're the only people who even have a prayer of stopping you and even then it's not a sure thing." Her lower lip trembled, "Xander, Xan, please think about this. You don't want to put humans at risk do you?"
Xander blinked hard and fought down his raging emotions. "No," he whispered.
"Then don't just up and leave without thinking about everything I said, 'kay? Just don't do anything rash until you talk to me."
"I wasn't planning on leaving right this minute," Xander said. "Maybe in a week or two."
She smiled. "So I have at least a week to put your mind at rest. Good." She clapped her hands. "Listen, how about you and me go for some alone time. We both could use a shoulder to cry on about…well… about things. We could order room service and just talk."
The hopeful look she gave him, the strained smile on the edge of tears, her whole demeanor of just needing a friend to talk to almost convinced Xander that he should take Buffy up on her offer. Almost. If the shadows in the room didn't seem to hungrily reach for him, he would have said yes. A feather-light tendril of darkness brushed his arm and he jumped at the shadow.
"Xander?" Buffy asked, concern showing in her face.
"Sorry. Tired. Stressed. Need to…I have to…sleep…I got…sorry Buffy, I just can't," Xander stammered.
"Hey, I know. Get some rest. We'll talk when you're ready, okay?" Buffy promised.
Faith leaned insolently against the motel room wall and tuned out Buffy's droning. The Blonde One was still acting as the general as she outlined the plan to relocate everyone to Cleveland and set up a school for new Slayers. The plan sounded suspiciously like that school in the *X-Men* comics one of her 'uncles' used to buy her as a bribe when she was a kid. If Xander wasn't conspicuous by his absence in the planning process, Faith would've been tempted to pin the whole comic geek idea on him.
Faith stifled a yawn and watched the inner circle — which now seemed to consist of Giles, Willow, Kennedy, Andrew, and Robin — toss around ideas for planning the move, setting up the school, and the general logistics of tracking down all the new Slayers in world.
"I still say building the school in Cleveland is a stupid idea," Faith muttered.
"Did you have something to contribute?" Buffy's voice whipped through the muted planning.
"Just thinkin' out loud, B," Faith shrugged, more than a little uncomfortable at suddenly becoming the center of attention. "You're talking about convincing all these newbies to move to Cleveland for god's sake. Not exactly a primo destination for a lot of people looking to relocate."
Willow frowned in response and Faith was certain that the witch was coming up with an argument to counter Faith's dismissal of the Cleveland location.
"Faith's got a point," Willow said. "We also haven't considered how we're going to convince these girls' parents to let them go to an 'exclusive' all-girls' boarding school that's only just getting off the ground."
Faith blinked in surprise while Robin nudged her gently in the ribs. When she turned to look at her current bed partner, he favored her with a wink before adding, "We do have to consider that Cleveland is an odd place to put an exclusive boarding school. When people think Cleveland, they think 'Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.' A more exotic locale might be more tempting for both the girls and the parents, say somewhere in the U.K. or Provence."
"Professor Xavier's school was in upstate New York, which is really the middle of nowhere," Andrew chimed in. "At least Cleveland has Drew Carey and Mimi."
Ahhh, Andrew. Now Faith had someone to blame for the idea about setting up the special Slayer school. Funny how she forgot Andrew was an even bigger comic geek than Xander.
"Cleveland is where the Hellmouth is," Kennedy stated.
"Exactly," Robin countered. "Do we really want all these inexperienced girls anywhere near a Hellmouth before they've finished training? We of all people know how dangerous Hellmouths are. Plus, you're talking about putting our new Watcher's Council in Cleveland, too. Sounds like we're putting too many eggs in one basket."
"But it's also the absolute best place to really teach these girls the reality of being a Slayer," Buffy insisted. "Sooner or later we're going to have to station them in trouble spots all over the world, whether it's on another Hellmouth or areas that just attract the bad guys. As for putting the Watcher's Council there, it's a good way to make sure our Slayers-in-training have the best teachers, bond with their Watchers, and have proper back-up so their fatal mistakes aren't quite so fatal."
"There is a point, there," Giles agreed. "Although Robin most certainly has some excellent points to consider. We may want to think about this more carefully."
"Not tonight. No more debate tonight," Willow groaned. "I'm beat."
"Could be because you didn't get any sleep last night," Kennedy commented in all innocence.
"Enough out of you, missy. You may be a Slayer, but I can still turn you into a toad," Willow gibed affectionately. "Look, we're not going to settle anything right now. Let me do some 'Net time and put together a rough idea of the costs of this little venture. We can take a new look at it in a couple of days."
"Maybe you could even pull Xander in, see what he says," Faith said. The statement brought all movement and conversation to a standstill and Faith once again felt like she was under a microscope. "I'm just saying if you're planning on taking him with, you might want to hear what he has to say."
"Faith? Xander right now isn't really, ummm, focused on the here and now," Willow said. "There's no point in dumping this on his shoulders until he's ready to deal with the concept that he has a future and a life worth having."
"Besides, Xander will just go along with the majority, anyway," Buffy said with a wave of her hand. "I seriously doubt he's going to come up with anything that none of us have already thought about."
"He's one of those seer people, remember?" Faith asked, uncertain why she felt the overwhelming need to defend Xander in the face of Buffy's ready dismissal. "You don't know what might come out of his mouth. He might see something we all missed."
"Seer?" Robin asked.
"Later," Faith muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
"I think his 'seer' abilities were overstated big time," Buffy said. "Xander and I talked earlier today and he said that all his supposed knowledge of his has evaporated. I mean, c'mon, it's pretty clear to everyone he hasn't exactly Mr. Insightful since Giles informed him of his demon status."
"Xander and you talked?" Willow perked up. "I haven't even been able to get him out of his room. How's he doing? Is he okay? Is he finally ready to…"
Buffy frowned. "He's not. Okay, I mean. He's dealing with stuff. It may be awhile before we can rely on him for anything." She heaved a sigh. "I think we'll need to watch him because he wasn't completely on board the sane train when I spoke to him earlier."
"Are we talking post-soul Spike-level insane?" Willow asked.
"Close," Buffy answered. "Look, I really don't want to get into it. I am probably just overreacting and being totally paranoid because of what we've already gone through with him. He probably just needs a distraction. I'll see if I can come up with some busywork to keep him occupied while he plays hermit in his room."
"That way we can slowly re-integrate him into the group," Giles nodded. "An excellent idea. The sooner we get him more engaged with the rest of the world, the sooner he'll be able to heal."
*Why didn't anybody think of this earlier?* Faith thought with frustration. *How many fricken Slayers do we have around here, anyway? Someone could've kicked down his door and dragged him from his room loooong before now.*
She tried not to think that maybe she should've been the one to do it, especially since she suspected that guilt over so much blood on his hands was playing into his instability. The memory of standing in Angel's old basement apartment holding a knife in her hands while the vampire talked her down flashed quickly through her mind. *Wait! Brain fart! Angel!* Faith suppressed a smile. *Perfect! If anyone can help, Angel can help.*
Now she had an even more pressing reason to get to L.A., as if she needed one more to add to her list. Even better, she now knew just how she was going to get there without using public transport and maybe running into some eagle-eyed cop who might recognize her from a wanted poster.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize the party was breaking up until Robin touched her lightly on the forearm. "Ready to go?" he asked.
"In a minute. I gotta talk to B," Faith said.
"Want me to stay?"
Faith shrugged. "If you want, since it kinda involves you."
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Calm down, beautiful. I'm not planning to marry ya," Faith hit him lightly on the arm. "There's some shit I gotta straighten out and it may mean I may have to motor outta beautiful downtown Oxnard real soon."
"The warrant for your arrest," Robin nodded in understanding.
"Among other things," Faith admitted. "I gotta consider my next step."
"You're thinking of turning yourself in, aren't you?" he asked.
"It's an option," Faith admitted.
"Are you sure?" Robin pressed. "You're needed on this side of the bars."
"Actually, Faith, it might be the right thing to do," Buffy cut in.
Faith shot the other Slayer a glare and noticed that everyone had left. "Private conversation, do you mind?"
"Sorry," Buffy sweetly apologized, indicating that she wasn't sorry in the least. "But you said you wanted to talk to me and I assume this is the reason. Did I guess wrong?"
"Well, no," Faith allowed.
"Faith, if you think you need to finish out your sentence, you should. We're not the only two hot chicks with superpowers anymore, so it's not all on just your shoulders or mine," Buffy said. "Just the same, the team has got a lot of work to do and we really can't support you if your head isn't in the game. Besides, between everyone worrying about you getting recognized and you always looking over your shoulder, we'll spend way too much time and energy on this little detail instead of focusing on the big picture fight against the boogey men."
"Seems like you're willing to do it for Xander," Faith countered without much feeling.
"Xander is a special case. Right now, he is a one and only and that's assuming he's really got these seer powers which, honestly, I'm beginning to seriously doubt," Buffy countered. "If it turns out that he doesn't, I'm sure he'll be following in your footsteps."
"What?" Faith fought hard to keep the surprise out of her voice.
"He did turn into a serial killer for a few weeks in Sunnydale. His actions make you look like a Girl Scout," Buffy replied.
"Excuse me?" Robin asked. "Xander? A serial killer? What the hell?"
"Later," Faith said as she shook the stunned feeling off and regrouped. "They were turning into those super vampires. Hell, there were autopsies that proved the people he killed weren't exactly on the human side of the fence. Giles showed you the reports remember? What he did probably was as big a factor in us getting out of Sunnydale alive as Willow's spell and Spike's Liz Taylor knockoff."
"We don't know that for certain. Hell, Xander doesn't even know that for sure," Buffy said. "The fact is we really can't afford to have police looking over our shoulders. You know that." She gave Faith a speculative look. "At least I think you do."
"The police don't have any reason to suspect Xander of anything. Hell, he wasn't even a suspect when the Sunnyhell PD looked into those murders," Faith responded. "Besides, what's he gonna do? Go talk to the local cops about a bunch of killings he did in a town that doesn't even exist? There's no proof he did anything! Besides, he's classified as a disaster victim, the most that'll happen is he'll wind up in the loony bin because I seriously, seriously doubt the cops are gonna believe him."
"This better be one hell of an explanation, Faith," Robin muttered. "How can you even defend…"
"Not now," Faith hissed.
"Xander is not your problem, Faith," Buffy said.
Faith gritted her teeth. "I can't believe you'd even consider letting Xander put his head on the chopping block over this. That's just wrong on so many levels."
"What's this about Xander and chopping blocks?"
Faith, Robin, and Buffy jumped. In the heat of the argument, none of them noticed Willow had re-entered the room.
Buffy was the first to recover. "Xander is considering turning himself over to the police if it turns out he's not really a Python."
"Pythia," Willow corrected. "Buffy, you can't let him."
"It's up to him, just like Faith's decision to turn herself in is up to her," Buffy shrugged.
"What?" Willow asked. "Faith, you can't…"
"It's not a definite, just something I need to consider, since I am still on the lam," Faith said. "There's lots of reasons for it. I still gotta pay for the people I killed and Buffy is right, there's a shot someone might recognize me from *America's Most Wanted*, so it might be better all around."
"I don't think…" Willow began.
"Willow," Buffy interrupted with a warning in her voice. She turned to her sister Slayer. "Faith, we understand, well, I understand where you're coming from. You have to deal with your own issues before you can be of any use to the new Slayers."
"But…" Willow protested.
"Wills, I'm trying to be supporto gal here for Faith," Buffy said in a tired voice. "Too little and too late, I know, but Faith knows what she wants to do."
*What I want to do is get my ass to L.A. and find out what happened to Angel. Then I'll figure out if I should head for jail or run for the border,* Faith thought. "Thanks. I think," she said out loud.
"Look, I'm just saying if this is what you need to do, go and don't look back," Buffy assured her. "You don't have to hang out and hold our hands anymore. We'll be fine." The other Slayer grinned and added, "A regular 5-by-5, whatever the hell that means."
"I appreciate it," Faith said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "But I need a favor."
"Name it," Buffy said.
"I need a ride to L.A."
Buffy gave Faith a searching look before asking, "Why?"
Faith shrugged. "If I walk into the local station, I'm gonna have a lot of shit raining down on my head. If I surrender in L.A., they might cut me some slack because of the whole blotting-out-the-sun-rain-of-freaking-fire-Jasmine-luvfest."
"Why would they do that?" Willow asked.
"Look, I could tell them I escaped because a family member was in trouble and that I planned to return to prison after I straightened it out, but that L.A. had turned into a war zone while I was on the outside," Faith said. "Long shot, I know, but it's the best shot I got at avoiding a high-security prison or solitary for the rest of my sentence."
"Fair enough, especially since you did escape to help Angel and then came here to help us," Buffy nodded.
"Hey! Maybe Xander can drive her!" Willow exclaimed.
Faith resisted the urge to run across the room and French the witch. The whole 'get-Xander-to-drive-me-to-L.A.' idea sounded a lot less suspicious if the suggestion came from someone else. "I don't know," Faith said, letting doubt creep into her voice. "If Xander is as unstable as Buffy thinks…"
"Look, it'll be less than a day, two at the most. I think getting him out of his room is just the ticket." Willow practically bounced as she said this. "Buffy, you said yourself that Xander needs some busywork."
"I'm with Faith. Xander driving her to L.A. may not be the best idea. Maybe Robin?" Buffy suggested.
"I'd love to do it," Robin said.
"You can't," Willow argued. "You've got a ton of work to do and Giles needs your help in tracking down the surviving Watchers. You can't just pick up and leave for a couple of days."
"She's right," Faith said with as much regret as she could muster. "But still. Xander? I just don't get all warm and fuzzy at the thought of being in a confined space with him for hours if he's not quite Mr. Stability. And what if he decides to go confess to the cops before you get a chance to test him? You don't need that kind of headache right now, B. You got better things to worry about than that."
"I think Buffy overstating her case," Willow said as she shot her friend a look. "Xander's brooding and depressed, yeah, but it's not really a surprise given everything that's happened to him since Kingman's…" Willow's voice trailed off and she closed her eyes with a sigh. She continued in a softer voice, "Giving him something to do would be good for him. Getting him away from here…away from us…away from the constant reminders of…well, you know."
"I think Xander needs to stay where we can keep an eye on him," Buffy said crossing her arms. "What if he goes all serial killer again? He needs to be with people who know him and control him if things go bad."
Faith's eyes narrowed as she studied the other Slayer. *Damn, she just doesn't want to let him go. She's not exactly being straight up with her reasons for keeping Xander here.* The dark-haired Slayer fought to keep her face from wearing a worried frown. *Then again, I'm not exactly being straight up about my trip to L.A. or the fact that I definitely want Xander driving.*
"Look, you said yourself Xander needs to feel useful," Willow insisted. "Buffy? What's going on? Why are you so hell bent on keeping him locked in the motel? You can't honestly believe that Xander would deliberately hurt anyone, do you?"
*Score another one for the witch,* Faith mentally cheered. *Well, time to cut in with some much needed reluctant support.* "Look, B, Willow is Xander's best bud, right?"
"One of his best friends, at least once upon a time," Buffy carefully responded.
"Once upon a time?" Willow's voice held a weak protest.
"If she says he's up for it, he's up for it," Faith shrugged. "Besides, he did manage to find and buy that car for us, so something tells me that he's a little more on the ball that you're giving him credit for. Maybe he does need to just get away for a day or two to clear his head."
Faith could see the mental battle raging across Buffy's face. The other Slayer knew she didn't really have a reason to put the kibosh on the field trip.
Willow sealed the deal by providing the final argument in favor of Xander playing chauffer. "Buffy listen. This is Xander we're talking about. It's not like he's going to run off and join the circus and there's no way he'd leave while we still need him," the witch cajoled. "He's Mr. Loyalty to the cause, remember? He'll be back. Hell, he always comes back no matter what."
Buffy let out a sigh. "Fine. We'll talk to Xander tomorrow."
Faith resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air and shout, "Yesssssss!" Instead, she gave Buffy a sedate nod and said, "Robin and me. We need some alone time before, you know…"
"Good night, Faith," Buffy said absently with a frown. "So, Willow, what brings you back…"
Robin and Faith didn't bother to stick around to hear the end of Buffy's question. They quickly headed for their room and as soon as the door swung shut behind them, Robin turned to the Slayer, "What was that about?"
"Yeah, B's acting all wacky about Xander," Faith said.
"No, I think Buffy is being more than reasonable about Xander, if half the stuff I heard in there is true," Robin countered.
Faith blinked. She didn't even think about how Xander might look to someone who really didn't know the whole deal. "It's a really long story and I've got a better idea about how we can spend…"
"Faith? What is going on?" Robin demanded. "And why are you thinking about going back to jail? How can you even consider…"
Faith sighed. So much for last-minute fun and games with Robin. "Look, I gotta figure out what my own agenda actually is and how I fit into the big picture. Right now, I don't see that, you dig?"
"Then let me help you," Robin urged.
"Ever kill a man?" Faith asked.
"I've killed my share of demons," Robin said defensively.
"Not demons, humans. I didn't do it outta self-defense either," Faith said. "The first was an accident. The other wasn't. B is right. I'm looking over my shoulder right now and I have to fix it, one way or the other. Me tagging along is dangerous for everyone, you gotta see that."
Robin dropped heavily on the bed. "Which means that no matter what you decide, you're not going to Cleveland."
Faith clutched her jaw and debated how much she could trust Robin. She decided she'd take a tiny chance. "Bingo. Don't tell B, though. She might get a bug up her ass about it."
Robin nodded dejectedly. "Fair enough. But I really think I should go with you."
"No," Faith quickly said. "Willow's right. You're too valuable right where you are. They're going to need all the Watchers they can get. Plus, if they're planning to start that school, they're going to need someone with a resume that actually includes the word 'principal' working there."
Robin closed his eyes. "Damn. You can be logical when you want to."
"Don't get used to it," Faith gently said as she sat on the bed next to him. "I tend to go on gut, which, now that I think about it? Probably not smart since it gets me in the most trouble."
"Still, I can't believe that Buffy would let you go like that," Robin said.
"Yeah, a little weird that B is being all encouraging about me leaving before everything is settled, but that's B, y'know?" Faith explained. "She's got this way of making you feel like you're her best bud when the chips are down, but in the day-to-day, she's not so big on the holding out the hand of friendship."
"But Willow and Xander…"
"Are chumps," Faith finished. "I think if you get them in the right mood, both of them would admit that Buffy and them aren't exactly close. I mean, they were tight in high school, but even back then she had a habit of not sharing. I remember one particular incident where I nearly killed Angel based on some bum information Xander fed me because he was pissed about the fact Buffy was hiding the ex."
"So why do they bother sticking around?" Robin said. "I mean, at least Xander can walk away any time, right?"
"Not really," Faith said. On Robin's questioning look, Faith added. "Xander can't walk away any more than Willow can. He's stuck and that's that."
"So Xander and Willow don't really know Buffy, but you have her pegged," Robin deadpanned.
"Hey, we were once the Chosen Two. Hell, we tried to kill each other more than once, even wore each other's skin for a bit," Faith said. "Thing is, no one knows B like I do. No one knows me like B does. It's in the blood, I think. It's also why we drive each other nuts."
"I still think you're making a mistake," Robin said.
"Last I checked, it was my mistake to make," Faith shrugged. "I gotta deal with one thing at a time and right now, this is something I have to deal with. I'm just not Mama Slayer material."
Robin closed his eyes. "I'll miss you, Faith."
The Slayer smiled. "I'll miss you, too. So, are we done talking? Can we have a little fun?"
"Yeah," Robin leaned over and planted a toe-curling kiss on Faith's lips. "But first you have to tell me the deal with Xander."
Faith groaned. It was going to be a very, very long night.
Two days later Faith was leaning against a battered Buick Century while glaring at the glass monstrosity dominating her vision.
"Planning to do something sometime today?"
The Slayer snarled as she turned to face her one-eyed escort. "Since it's almost sunset, there's really not a whole fricken lot I can do, is there?"
"Someone insisted on a late start."
"Because it shouldda taken us two hours with L.A. traffic, three if the freeway was a parkin' lot, to get here," Faith shot back.
Xander shrugged. "You could've hitched a ride on the road if you don't like the way I drive."
"Xander? The Golden Girls are better drivers. I could've run to L.A. faster than you drove," Faith complained.
"Whatever. You wanted a ride, you got a ride." Faith hated the emotionless tone Xander used to make his statement. "I didn't feel comfortable driving faster because, hey! Huge blind spot to the left, in case you forgot. I thought arriving alive was the objective here. Besides, how do you think Ponch and John would have reacted to pulling over our car and seeing that the guy driving had only one eye and that an escaped felon was in the passenger seat?"
"Xander?" Faith gritted.
"What?"
"Shut. Up."
"I will, as soon as you tell me one thing," Xander said.
"One question before I rip off your left arm and beat you to death with it," Faith threatened.
"Oooh, then my arms will match my eyes," Xander countered without much humor. "Why are we outside an evil law firm?"
Faith stood bolt upright and fixed Xander with a wary look. "How do you know it's evil?"
Xander uncomfortably shifted against the battered fender as he refused to meet Faith's eyes. "It's a law firm, right? Lawyers are evil."
"The truth." Faith reached out a hand but caught herself short when Xander swung his good eye around to look at her. The confusion of emotions behind that look prompted the Slayer to add, "Please."
Xander took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't…I don't know. Something. A feeling? It's like I'm hearing an echo of an echo." He ducked his head, once again staring at the ground. "Since Sunnydale exploded, I'm having a hard time keeping everything straight. Ignore me. I'm probably wrong."
He sounded so helpless as he said it that Faith flashed back to that horrible night when Giles broke the news that Xander wasn't exactly part of human race. She felt guilty for taking her frustration and exhaustion out on him, especially since he had just survived the worst year of his life, capped by the loss of one eye, an ex-fiance, and his humanity.
"You're not wrong. Wolfram & Hart is evil," Faith said.
"So why are we here?"
"Looking for clues," Faith shrugged. "The hotel's abandoned, so my bet is someone in there probably knows what happened to Angel and everyone else."
"You have plan, don't you?"
"Yup."
"This plan wouldn't happen to involve marching through the front door and roughing up people until we get answers, would it?"
"Pretty much."
"Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, we are now officially instituting the patented Slayer plan for confronting anything she doesn't like. Just for the record? I hate that plan. That plan sucks. People tend to get hurt. Usually me."
"You got a better plan?"
"We could march through the front door and ask to see the evil lawyer in charge of all evil plans because we have evil business to conduct. Then when we reach the evil lawyer, we could bribe that person with cold hard cash to get answers."
"Your plan sucks worse than mine," Faith muttered as she crossed her arms.
"My plan won't get us killed," Xander pointed out.
"One flaw. We don't have cold hard cash."
Xander shifted uncomfortably again. "Yes and no."
Faith's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Oh?"
"I still have access to my savings, checking account, and credit cards and, ummm, Anya left my name on her accounts, so I'm not exactly hurting for cash," Xander weakly explained.
Faith gave the Buick a questioning glance. "If money isn't a big problem, what's with the rust bucket?"
"I don't know how long I'll have to live on the cash reserves," Xander said quietly. "Not exactly a huge call in this employment market for one-eyed monsters."
"You're not a monster," Faith quickly interrupted.
"So, are we going though the front door or not?" Xander asked as if she hadn't spoken.
Faith grudgingly hauled herself off the car and headed for the main entrance. She heard Xander's footsteps as he fell in behind her. The doors slid open as the sensors picked up their approach and the pair found themselves in a lobby full of scurrying suits running from one end of the monstrosity to the other. Faith heard a sharp intake of breath behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Xander staring around him in frank wonder. She reached out to grab his arm and he instinctively shied away from physical contact. Faith held up her hands as a sign that she wouldn't touch and began scanning the lobby for a receptionist's desk.
"Good evening Ms. Faith, Mr. Alexander."
The pair jumped as the anonymous greeter raced past them on his unknown errand. A chorus of voices from the other scurrying suits quickly followed his acknowledgement. "Good eve…Good evening Ms. Faith…Good…Mr. Alexander…Good evening…Good…Ms. Faith, Mr. Alexander…"
"What the fuck?" Xander whispered.
"Wicked strange," Faith agreed. "They were expecting us. Not good. I say we get the hell out…"
"Wait," Xander hissed.
"What?"
"Wait," Xander repeated.
"For what? Bullets with our names engraved on 'em?" Faith demanded.
"I think for her," Xander nodded towards a well-dressed female as she materialized out of the crowd.
Model looks complimented the wry amusement playing on the approaching woman's lips as she drank in the sight of the travel-ragged pair. "Angel's been waiting for you," she said.
"Angel? Here? You've gotta be yanking my chain," Faith said.
"Along with Wes, Lorne, and Fred," Xander said dreamily. His odd tone of voice caused Faith to jerk around to look at him with concern. Xander unfocused eye swept over the lobby and saw through the woman, "But not the other two. They aren't necessary, are they? Cordelia and Connor are off the board."
A quick flicker of surprise flashed across the woman's face, but she recovered quickly and the sly mask was back in place within half a heartbeat.
"Don't be too sure about the game," Xander continued in that dreamy voice. "A lost queen has a habit of helping the king out of a checkmate when you trap him in a Connor."
"Who the hell is Connor?" Faith demanded.
Xander gave a start and shook his head "Who is Connor?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
"I don't know any Connor," Xander said, with a touch of worry in his voice. "So why ask me about…"
"Look, you said the gang's all here, except for Cordelia and Connor. You said it. Not me. I know Cordelia, but I don't know any Connor." Faith felt a bubble of fear trickle down her back. *But why don't you know a Connor? Seems like you should,* something whispered in her mind.
"Why would I say that?" Xander asked as he fought to keep his voice even.
"Much as this lover's spat makes for gripping drama, Angel's still waiting," the woman interrupted.
"And who the hell are you?" Faith demanded. *Jesus, Xander freak-out behind me and Ms. Femme Fatale 2003 in front of me. Talk about rock and a hard place,* she mentally added.
"Lilah. We met, remember?"
Faith's eyes narrowed. "Damn. If it ain't Ms. We-Got-A-Job-For-You-Faith."
Lilah grinned. "You're looking good, Faith. Insanity, high-security prison, and the apocalyptic battle in Sunnydale have done wonders for your complexion."
"You tried to get Angel killed and now he's working for you guys?" Faith asked. "I'm not buying."
Lilah shrugged. "You don't have to, especially since you're wrong. We're working for him."
"So let me get this straight," Faith said. "Angel has taken over an evil law firm…"
"Former evil law firm. The senior partners have resigned their interest in Wolfram & Hart," Lilah corrected.
"Okay, so this is a law firm with a history of being evil and now you're headed by a vampire and his gang?" Xander asked.
"That about sums it up," Lilah dryly replied.
"Anyone else thinking this can not possibly end well?" Xander asked.
Lilah led Xander and Faith through a maze of corridors before they stopped in front of massive office doors that obviously cost more than the entire house on Revello Drive. With a flourish fit for a king's court, Lilah through open the doors and announced with a hint of amused sarcasm, "Xander Harris and Faith... Faith…" she glanced at the Slayer and seeing she wasn't going to get any help from her guests, she shrugged and continued, "just Faith to see Mr. Angel."
Lilah shot them a final toodle-oo wave with her fingers and sashayed away, leaving the dumbfounded pair to look each other in the eyes before turning to meet whatever surprise lay in wait.
Xander and Faith walked slowly across the threshold into an office that emanated power from every corner. They hesitated before stepping onto the very obviously real, antique Persian carpeting. The man and woman spared each other another glance before they slowly approached the mahogany desk placed in front of a wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking panoramic view of L.A. The chair was turned away so its occupant faced the glorious sunset that bathed the skyline in a wash of red.
Wherever Angel was hiding, the duo figured he was practically yelling since they could hear his muffled voice in the sun-drenched office. The chair turned and three eyes widened in shock to see Angel saying his goodbyes into a space-age, top-of-the-line, executive phone.
In very quick succession, several things snapped through Faith's mind. Angel was in the penthouse suite of Wolfram & Hart and sitting behind a big corporate desk like he belonged there. He was chatting on the phone, enjoying the view, and bathed in the…
"Sun!" Faith shouted as she vaulted over the desk, slammed her left hand down on the hook, and gave Angel a good, hard poke in the chest with her right hand.
"Ow! Hey! What was that for?" Angel yelped as he dropped the handset.
"You're real," Faith stated suspiciously. "You're sitting in the penthouse office of the very law firm that's been plotting to off your undead ass for four years and you're sitting in sunlight and not bursting into flames. Can't blame a girl for thinking you might be, oh, the First, right?"
"Special necrotinted windows," Angel explained as he got out of his chair, walked over to the windows, and knocked on the glass. "Keeps the harmful rays away from vampire bosses. I won't be getting a tan, but then again, it also means I won't flambé."
"Creepy," Xander commented as he nervously prowled the office. "You and sunlight mix like, well, vampires and sunlight. Not exactly a match made in heaven."
"Takes some getting used to," Angel said slowly. His attention seemed fixed on young man as the Sunnydaler paced around the office, picking up and putting down various objects.
Faith wasn't entirely sure she liked the speculative look Angel used when studying Xander. Not for the first time, she wondered what exactly Lorne had told Angel the night Xander mysteriously arrived on the Hyperion doorstep to drag her into Buffy's little army. Faith growled at herself, *Stick with solving one problem at a time.*
"What the hell happened? Xander's right. There's something seriously not right about this picture," Faith leaned in, looking directly in Angel's eyes. "Have you been brainwashed?"
"Gotta have a brain to wash," Xander muttered.
"No," Angel said.
"Like I said," Xander commented.
"Drugged? Blackmailed?" Faith interrogated, doing her best to ignore her snarky companion.
"No and no," Angel insisted.
"Then why?
"The senior partners pulled out of this dimension and offered all of us the opportunity to take over Wolfram & Hart. We call the shots now," Angel said
"All of you?" Faith fought the urge to look at Xander. She noticed that any sound of his movement around the office had stopped. "Lorne, Gunn, Fred?" She took a breath before adding, "Cordelia?"
"Lorne, Gunn, and Fred are here. They head up various departments," Angel said. "Cordelia is, well, she's in a deep coma, so technically she's not part of the team now running Wolfram & Hart."
This news was enough to cause Faith to cast a quizzical glance in Xander's direction. Her escort seemed frozen by Angel's words. *Removed from the board. A lost queen. Oh good god,* Faith thought. "Coma?" Faith was pretty sure her voice held a very uncool squeak.
"Part of the fallout from Jasmine," Angel said, his voice heavy with sadness. "She's getting the best care Wolfram & Hart's money can buy."
"So Cordelia is the reason…" Faith began.
"No," Angel quickly replied.
"Who's Connor?" Xander asked.
Angel jumped and actually drew a deep breath he didn't need. Faith swore she saw a flash of fear and pain flicker behind the vampire's eyes. Angel hesitated just a beat too long for Faith's taste before his preternaturally calm voice politely inquired, "Who?"
"Connor. Connn-nnnor," Xander repeated with irritating slowness. "Faith tells me I was babbling about some guy named Connor when I walked in. I don't know any Connor, Faith doesn't know any Connor, so I'm thinking it might be important to you?"
Angel smiled a tight smile. "I really don't know," he replied with a tone that brooked no further discussion on the subject. "Maybe it's someone I'm going to meet."
Xander's brow creased with confusion. "Why would I ask about someone you haven't met yet?"
"Xander? From what Lorne tells me, you are…well, you've changed," Angel stumbled over the words. He was trying to be gentle, despite the rocky relationship the two men shared, but he knew the reminder was going to strike deep. "It might be part of the, ummm, package?"
"Package." Xander's voice had a dangerous, dead edge.
"There is a possibility that you're precog. We have a department that specializes in stuff like this. Fred could set you up for a full examination in our on-site lab to get a definitive answer about what you are and what you can do," Angel offered.
"And where would you get the idea that turning me into a lab rat is the way to go?" Xander's lone eye glittered with fury, prompting Faith to surreptitiously position herself between the two men in case someone decided to tear someone else's throat out.
Angel's body posture indicated that he noticed Faith's move, but his tone became more cautious as he pressed. "As I said, Lorne…"
Xander closed his visible eye. "What else did Lorne tell you about me?"
"Only what I needed to know to convince me that you weren't a danger to anyone," Angel quickly assured him. "He didn't betray any deep, dark secrets."
Sensing that things between Angel and Xander were only going to spiral even lower than they already were if this conversation continued, Faith quickly changed the subject. "Hey, Angel! What the fuck?" She waved around the office. "You're sitting in the big time like it's nothing, but I gotta tell you, this still doesn't make any sense. I was completely freaked when I couldn't reach you after Sunnydale bit it."
Angel grinned, obviously relieved by Faith's hijack. "You were worried about me?"
"Oh, please," Xander muttered as he rolled his eye.
"Well, duh, I was worried. I almost OD'd because of you."
"What?" Xander exploded.
"Jeez, don't get your panties in a twist, Xander. I volunteered because it was the only way I could reach him," Faith said.
"Ever heard of that nifty new contraption called a telephone? How about email?" Xander asked. "You could've gone with IMing because that's what all the cool kids are doing these days."
"Later. I'll explain later," Faith said, shutting her traveling companion down before he could slip into a full rant. She turned back to the vampire. "Look, I don't have a lot of friends, but you're one of them. So when I called the hotel and you weren't there…" her voice trailed off into a shrug.
"You thought maybe the forces of the First did an end-run around you to get to us," Angel said.
"Among other things," Faith said crossing her arms.
Angel sighed. "Long story short: I was already moved in here when I showed up in Sunnydale with the amulet."
"You were in Sunnydale? Before the big battle with the First? That shiny piece of crap on a chain came from you?" Faith was stunned.
"I would've stayed and fought, but Buffy thought it best if I fall back to L.A. in case things went bad in Sunnydale," Angel said.
"Things did go bad in Sunnydale," Xander commented with a nasty edge. "The town is gone, or didn't that news make it past your necrotinted windows?"
"But the world is still here. One abandoned town for the world isn't a bad trade," Angel pointed out wearily.
"Mostly abandoned," Xander corrected him.
"What?" Angel seemed shocked.
"There were still some 'civilians' in town when it imploded, including my parents," Xander said.
Faith blinked in surprise. She had no idea. "Xander, I didn't…You didn't say…"
"My parents are no loss to the human race," Xander cut her off. "Even if there still weren't 186 people still among the missing, which was the Red Cross count when we left Oxnard this morning, two people in our group still died."
Angel closed his eyes. "Who?"
"B didn't call to tell you?" Faith asked.
"As you pointed out, I can't be reached at the Hyperion anymore and I keep losing my cell phone. Besides, I don't think Buffy's going to add me to her 'Friends and Family' call list any time soon." Angel winced. "I didn't think to have my calls forwarded from there to here. My network of informants told me that the First was stopped in Sunnydale and that Buffy and you made it out alive, but no other details."
"Network of informants?" Faith asked with a raised eyebrow. "What are you, the CIA?"
"Company this big? Feels like it," Angel said. "Xander? Who did you lose?"
"Spike's gone. Buffy said the amulet basically lit him up like a Christmas tree just as the Hellmouth started collapsing in on itself. She took off, so she didn't see what happened, but considering there was nothing left but a crater, I really doubt he made it," Xander said.
Angel's mouth twitched. "Well, the cheese stands alone again. So much for two souled vampires running around. Anyone else?"
"Xander's ex, Anya, got killed," Faith said quietly.
Angel nodded at Xander and said with sincere feeling, "I'm sorry for your loss. I know what it's like to lose someone you care about. I don't wish that pain on anyone."
Xander opened his mouth in an 'o' of surprise but quickly shut it. He struggled a moment before saying a quiet, "Thank you."
After a beat, Angel desperately dove for a new direction. "What brings you two here? Any way I can help, just say the word."
"No offense, but cheerful? Not really your thing," Xander said. "It's kinda like seeing you in sunlight. Cree-pee."
"Wes informs me that if I'm going to run an outfit like Wolfram & Hart, I need to work on my people skills and try a new, non-brooding approach," Angel said. "I'm practicing."
"I'm with Xander. You being the man is just too weird," Faith said.
"You haven't answered my question," Angel pointed out. "Xander, did you consider joining the team here? With your talents we could use you."
"Don't see why," Xander shrugged. "Seems to me that you have all the resources you could possibly want. I really doubt I've got anything to contribute."
"I think you're underestimating yourself." That speculative look had returned to the vampire's eyes as he spoke.
"I don't think…look…there's just some things I have to work out right now, so no," Xander stumbled, clearly surprised that Angel's offer still stood. "I'm just here in a driver capacity for Faith."
Angel grinned. "Faith wants to join the team! That's great news!"
"Not so fast," Faith interrupted. "I'm in the same boat as Xander here. Got some things to figure out before I take the next step, know what I mean? So, I'm here to hang a bit and talk."
Angel nodded in understanding. "Anything I can do to help, you know that Faith."
"First thing's first. Me and Xander need a place to crash…" Faith began.
"I don't," Xander interrupted. "I'm heading back to Oxnard tonight."
"What? Xander, you just got here. You must be wiped. Plus, you'll be flying in the teeth of rush hour," Faith protested.
"Nah. I'm good. I just need to get back, you know?" Xander fixed Faith with a look. "Are you going to be okay if I take off? I mean, if you need me to stay…"
"I don't know how long I'll be before I make any decisions," Faith stammered. This wasn't going at all like she planed. "Look, I really think heading back tonight…"
Before she finished the sentence, Xander crossed the office and shoved a cell phone in Faith's hand. "Promise you'll let me know, whatever you decide. I programmed some numbers into the memory. Mine is number two," he said in a low voice.
Faith was about to argue, force Xander to see reason and stay on for at least a day to give Angel the chance to talk to him, but when she looked up into his face she saw something beneath the surface of his expression that made her take a mental pause. "Xander? You're leaving because this place spooks you, doesn't it?" she softly asked.
Xander looked directly at Angel, who busily pretended he couldn't hear a word by moving around the trinkets on his desk. "Echo of an echo," he said. "I think they're still okay as a group, but, well, just be careful, hunh?"
"Ten-four, roger," Faith said lightly.
"Promise you'll call, Faith," Xander said.
"Okay, okay."
"Promise me." Xander's tone had taken on an urgency that wasn't like him.
Faith's brow crinkled in confusion. "I will. Geez, you sound like my parole officer, that is, if escaped cons had parole officers."
"I'm worried, that's all. I know you don't count me in your pool of friends, but after what you did for me when we got back to Sunnydale, well, I do consider you my friend. I don't like leaving you here and if I didn't think Angel was technically one of the good guys, I wouldn't."
Faith once again silently debated arguing with Xander to get him to stay, but she knew nothing short of danger to her own person was going to convince him to stick around. Since he didn't think she was in any trouble and since Faith had no idea how to play damsel in distress, she couldn't think of a single tactic that would successfully play on Xander's protective instincts. With a mental sigh, she gave him a friendly tap on the arm and gently said, "Gettouttaheah. I can take care of myself."
Xander responded with a tight smile and a nod at first Faith and then Angel, before leaving the office without a word.
Faith fought down the frustration that one part of her L.A. plan had spectacularly failed with Xander's dead run back to Oxnard and Buffy's lap. "Heard all of that, didjya?" she casually asked the vampire.
"Word for word. What did he mean, 'echo of an echo'?" Angel asked.
"He picked up the evil vibes while standing on the sidewalk," Faith said. "I don't think he knows how to deal with being knowledge guy."
"Obviously he doesn't, otherwise he would've avoided that eye patch," Angel remarked.
"The whole 'seeing' gig disappeared a few days after Giles dropped the bomb on him about not being human," Faith said.
Angel frowned. "Could've been denial at work. Lorne told him the same thing at the hotel and he outright refused to accept it."
"I'm hearing something you're not saying," Faith stated.
"Look, I did a little checking on Pythias after we moved in here, nothing heavy because I didn't want to call attention to it, but there could be something else playing interference," Angel said. "Nothing definite, but…"
"Spit it out."
Angel shrugged. "If Xander wasn't used to all the knowledge input, his mind could've just shut down in self-defense."
"To keep him from going crazy," Faith said.
"Could be. Toss in a more active Hellmouth and the First, god knows what he was dealing with on a daily basis."
Faith shuddered. The memory of holding Xander's hand while he struggled through serial nightmares in the days after returning to Sunnydale gripped her stomach. "I don't think either one of us wanna know that piece of info," Faith said.
"Bad?"
"Bad enough." Faith shook herself. She tried and failed to help Xander, although she couldn't escape the feeling that maybe she should've tried harder. But really, what was she supposed to do? Knock him out and tie him down until Angel got through to him? She knew that tactic would backfire, especially since Xander never quite got over his dislike for the souled vampire. Her idea was clearly a stupid one to begin with and she should've known better. "Enough about Xander. I wanna know the deal here. Wolfram & Hart? Damn. That's one massive 'What the fuck?' you've got going here."
"Long story. How about I tell you over dinner?" Angel asked. "I understand the employee cafeteria serves gourmet food 24-7."
"Could eat," Faith shrugged. She reached out and grabbed Angel's arm as he passed her to open the office door. "One question about this set up. These senior partners and their 'hands off' 'tude. You trust them?"
"Not in the slightest," Angel admitted.
Buffy was waiting for him in the motel lobby when he returned to Oxnard. She looked up from her magazine and for a fraction of a second Xander was almost certain he saw a triumphant look cross her face. Before Buffy's expression registered, it was replaced with a million dollar California smile.
"You're back!" Buffy exclaimed with happy surprise. "I was pretty sure you'd stay in L.A. at least for tonight. You must be dead."
Xander felt the evening shadows closing in on him and he resisted the urge to flee to his room. "Yeah. Long drive there and back topped by killer traffic. I'm exhausted and wired at the same time."
"Same here," she said as she hopped up from her seat. "Let's get some of Willow's icky herbal tea, you know the one that knocks you out like you've been drugged? We'll be snoozing in no time."
A *zing* of pain in his left eye socket left Xander breathless. He reflexively clutched at the eye patch and bent over in an attempt to re-capture his breath while the vision in his good eye greyed and wobbled.
"Xander?"
He felt a feather light touch on his shoulder that was—*cold so goddamn cold*—radiating concern and as quickly as the pain attacked him it left, leaving him…
Leaving him…
*Helpless.* The word pinballed through Xander's worried mind. He quickly straightened up and stepped back.
Buffy frowned at his retreat. "I thought you were over the 'no touching' thing since you and Anya…"
Xander's mind reached for the first excuse he could find. "Sorry, it's just that Anya used to touch me like that on the shoulder. Flashback. It's not you. I swear."
"Confusing me with Anya. You must be really tired," Buffy said.
Out of the corner of his good eye, the shadows swirled and reached for him. He forced himself to breathe normally and blinked his one good eye hard while the left eye socket began aching in rhythm. "I think I'm suffering from phantom pains," he announced.
"Phantom pains?" Buffy asked with her head tilted questioningly to the side.
"The eye's gone, but sometimes I still feel like it's there, especially when I'm tired," Xander absently explained as he scanned the lobby.
"You're afraid you're losing it, aren't you?"
Xander opened his mouth to agree and quickly shut it. "No, it's just… everything."
"Oh, Xander," Buffy said sadly. She quickly stepped up to him and engulfed him in a hug, resting her head on his chest.
Xander tried to pull away, but Slayer strength was not going to let him escape any time soon.
Buffy sighed. "You really are scared. Don't be. We will help you through this. I will help you through this. We'll take care of you and get to the bottom of this as soon as we settle in Cleveland, okay?"
*Everything I want to hear, but*… Xander thought. "Yeah, Buff, I know. You can count on me," he said without much enthusiasm.
He tried not to imagine the subtle, pleased chuckle lurking in the shadows.
Faith yawned widely as she shuffled out of the guest bedroom into the sunny penthouse suite. She drifted into the kitchen, but was brought up short on seeing Angel and Wes sitting at the table, heads nearly touching, as they quietly conferred.
"Big trouble?" she asked. "And if there is, can it wait? I need coffee."
Two male heads quickly turned to face her wearing twin worried frowns.
"I've been filling Wesley in on what you told me about the battle against the First," Angel explained.
"Are you seriously telling me that we have more than two Slayers running around?" Wesley asked. There was something shell-shocked hovering in his tone, indicating that he didn't think the current state of affairs was something to shout about.
"Yep. Glinda had her wicked way with the Slayer's Scythe and now everyone with the potential can make with the slay," Faith said. Her eye finally fell on the Braun coffeemaker. "Point me to a mug, unless you want me to drink it straight from the machine."
"Slayer's Scythe?" Wesley pressed. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"Neither did Giles," Faith stretched before snatching the clean mug out of Angel's outstretched hand. She absently spoke while she poured her coffee. "B said something about this group of female guardians that forged it and hid it. I gotta tell you, Wes. This thing? It had power. The buzz was better than an acid trip at Ozzfest."
"How do you mean?"
Faith fought the urge to roll her eyes. Some things may change, but Wes's niggling insistence on hearing the smallest details was one aspect of his character that just refused to die. "When I held it, it called to me. It's like I just knew it belonged to me."
"Yet you let Buffy have it," Angel said.
Faith rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. "Well, yeah. She was General Patton and I had managed to get myself all blown up, so I figured since she was in charge, she should have it."
"And who, pray tell, came up with the idea of turning every Potential on earth into a Slayer?" Wesley asked.
"Buffy did," Faith grimaced. "I gotta admit, as far as plans go, it was hella awesome. Probably the most exciting thing to ever happen in White Picket Fence Land, and that's saying something when you consider the yearly spring Apocalypse." Faith hauled herself into a sitting position on the kitchen countertop, letting her legs lazily swing back and forth. "Is there a particular reason why you two aren't about to break into the Halleluiah Chorus?"
"I just want to be clear," Wes said. "Buffy's plan was to give Willow — the same Willow who less than a year ago absorbed a heavy dose of dark magic, killed a man, and tried to end the world — a mystical weapon that no one's ever heard of and used that to transform every Potential into an actual Slayer."
"Yeah, but it worked, right?"
"I'm not finished," Wesley snappishly replied. "Yet, having an army of Slayers isn't what actually defeated the First, it was the amulet Angel delivered to Sunnydale."
"Well, it wasn't supposed to," Faith countered. "We needed the extra muscle to keep the super vampires off our backs."
"Faith?" Angel cut in. "When I delivered the amulet, no one was actually sure what it would do and how it would do it."
"Look, we were desperate, okay?" Faith hopped off the counter. "You weren't there, I was. Things were going to hell in a hand basket. The little Scoobies were turning on each other, Buffy was turning into an even bigger mega bitch, Potentials were dying, Caleb was raising hell, Xander was almost killed, I got blown up…"
"And in the middle of all this you conveniently get a mystical weapon that no one's ever heard of from a group no one's ever heard of," Wes deadpanned.
"We were due for a break." Faith fought the urge to throw her hands up in the air over Wes's decided lack of happiness.
"Look, I know this is frustrating for you, but I do wonder if the timing wasn't too propitious?"
Faith blinked. "Care to put that in English, Wes?"
"He means too lucky," Angel said.
"Ahhhh, c'mon, Angel, you can't be agreeing with him, are ya? You were practically doing the wave when I told ya the story last night."
"Wes has some good points, Faith," Angel said. "We've been noticing a significant increase in demon activity in the past two weeks."
"These things come in waves, you know that," Faith countered.
"It's significant enough that we've noticed it and this latest 'wave,' as you put it, doesn't show any sign of slowing down," Wes stated. "It could be a reaction to what happened in Sunnydale."
"Hold up. Are you actually saying that because we've got more Slayers wandering around we're gonna get more demons? That's just crazy," Faith angrily retorted. "Hey! I got another one for ya. The Hellmouth in Sunnydale now looks like the Grand Canyon and all the little demons are lookin' for new digs here in L.A."
"Which could also be the case," Angel allowed.
Wes sighed. "We will need more time to determine which theory is the right one. If demonic activity drops off, then we know we've got a refugee issue. If not…" he trailed off in a shrug. "Whichever it is, it still leaves us with a catastrophic problem."
"This should be good," Faith grumbled.
"The most immediate problem is we have an unknown number of Slayers running loose and no Watchers," Wes said.
"Whoa, last I checked Team B had that angle covered," Faith said. "They're gonna be setting up a special Slayer school to train all the newbies."
"First they have to find them," Angel said.
"And they don't have the resources of the Council to help them," Wes added.
Faith snorted.
"While I agree with your opinion of the Council," Wes continued. "These girls suddenly have special abilities and no one to explain the situation. Think about this: if you suddenly had the strength, stamina, speed, and healing gifts of a Slayer, and no way of knowing what it was or what to do with it, what would you do?" Wes winced when he realized whom he was talking to. "What I mean is…"
"Forget it, Wes. I see the point," Faith cut him off. "Shit. Didn't think of that. The last thing the world needs is a buncha Mini Mes."
"They could do worse," Angel leapt in.
Faith flashed him a grateful smile. "Okay, let's not think me. How about a bunch of mini-Cordelias?" When she saw Angel puff up in anger, she quickly added, "Think about Cordelia the cheerleading queen."
"There is a point," Wes allowed.
Faith leaned against a wall. "Something tells me that bullying's gonna take on a whole new meaning."
"You almost sound like a Watcher," Wes commented.
"You take that back," Faith protested.
"What I mean is, you're assuming all these girls will misuse their gifts and wreck havoc on the world," Wes replied. "It's a very Watcher attitude about controlling Slayers."
"I'm being a realist, so there's no need for nasty name calling," Faith relaxed. "Thing is, okay, maybe most of them will be a-O.K., but shit, think about how the Council screwed up with me and I was just one loose cannon. Now we've got no Council and you can bet your tight, white ass that there's gonna be more than one bad apple in this bunch. The odds are against all of 'em being saints."
Wes blinked. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a quick mind, Faith?"
Faith fought the urge to blush under the compliment. "Yeah, well, my mind isn't exactly what interests people. They're usually too busy staring at my tits."
Wes barked a laugh. "Rest assured, I never stared at your tits."
"Because it wouldn't've been proper," Faith countered with a grin.
"Fun as this repartee is, Wes, you mentioned other problems before Faith walked in," Angel interrupted.
"Two problems, actually," Wes sobered.
"Go on," Angel urged.
"We can't assume all the Potentials, sorry, Slayers, are fifteen-year-old girls." Wes let the thought hang there.
Faith let out a low whistle. "The AARP just raised its profile."
"Or a two-year-old just accidentally tossed her mother through a wall," Angel added.
Faith's mouth flattened into a thin line. "I think we're worrying over nothin' there. Kennedy was the oldest Potential to show up at Buffy's and she was eighteen, I think. I think the youngest I heard about was fourteen."
"But not all of the Potentials were in Sunnydale when you cast the spell," Wes reminded her.
"Another 'time will tell' issue," Angel agreed.
"My second problem most definitely isn't a 'time will tell' issue," Wes grimly said. "Your little spell may have effectively ended the Slayer line."
This pronouncement caused Faith to fumble the cup in her hands, spilling the hot coffee. She hissed. "Wes, we were trying to save the Slayer line, so what…"
Wes sighed. "There is a genetic component to being a Slayer. Surely you've got a birthmark?"
Faith frowned. "Had. Removed when I was eight because some doc in the free clinic was afraid it might be cancerous."
"Every potential has that birthmark somewhere on their person," Wes continued. "What do you think happens to a Potential who's never called?"
"They go on to become radical lesbian feminists who refuse to shave their pits?" Faith asked. "Or maybe Soccer Moms with poodle skirts. Really can't decide."
"Many of them go on to give birth to other Potential Slayers," Wes answered with irritation, "and many of those children never get called and can then turn around and…"
"Give birth to others, yeah, I get it," Faith replied. "One eensy problem there, Wes. I know for a fact that Slayers can give birth. Hell, I was screwing the son of a Slayer back in Sunnydale."
"Really?" Wes was intrigued. "It must've been Nikki Wood's son."
Surprised, Faith asked, "How'd you know?"
"Because a Slayer living long enough to give birth is rare enough that it would be recorded in the Council records," Wes said. "I've read the records about Ms. Wood and her giving birth to a son caused quite the stir. Last time it happened was more than eighty years ago."
Angel looked up at the ceiling and said, "You know, I just know I don't want to ask this, but you probably know off the top of your head how many active Slayers have given birth."
"In the last 500 years, there have been a dozen cases," Wes answered.
"Yeah, but there are a lot more Slayers now, so you might have a dozen cases in the first 500 days," Faith pointed out.
"Faith, you know the second a Slayer is called they become a target," Wes began.
"Yeah? Well being a Potential isn't all that safe either," Faith countered.
"Only in the past year. Prior to the First's and the Powers-That-Be's attempts to upset the balance of power in this dimension, there were almost no cases where Potentials were specifically targeted because of their link to the Slayer line," Wes said.
"Which means they could breed like rabbits in peace," Faith muttered.
Angel grimly said, "So the upshot is, at minimum, we have a lot of young girls who are now Slayers and have no idea what happened or why. All those girls are now walking around with a target on their backs because there's no one left to train them. And that's our best case scenario."
Faith crossed the room and dropped heavily in the chair. "You know, Giles is not a stupid man. Willow's not a stupid girl. If we can figure this out, you'd think one of them mighta thought of this."
"Your faith in my intelligence is astonishing," Wes commented.
"This is Monday morning quarterbacking, Faith," Angel assured her. "You said Sunnydale was a powder keg between the First's manipulations and the various personal demons you all were fighting at the same time. While I'd like to think my people would've thought a little more carefully about activating Potentials, there's no telling what we'd do if our backs were up against it. Hell, we effectively killed any hope of world peace when we defeated Jasmine."
"Yeah, well, so what can we do about it?" Faith asked.
"There's the rub," Wes said, "I'm not sure there's anything we can do at this point."
"We still need answers," Angel remarked. "Maybe we should contact Buffy, or at least Giles, with our concerns."
"I wouldn't right now," Faith quickly interjected.
"Why ever not?" Wes asked. "Faith, I am aware that you and Ms. Summers will never be on the best of terms, but really."
"Look, B's not exactly open about accepting new ideas that don't come from her noggin. Plus, as far as she knows, the state of California owns my ass, so she's gonna wonder where you got the straight dope." Faith threw in a shrug for good measure, "Besides, B's got that plan to set up that special Slayer school in Cleveland…"
"Cleveland? On top of another Hellmouth?" Wes practically squeaked the question.
"Well, yeah," Faith said as her brow creased in confusion. "Plus her, Giles, and Robin are already working to find whatever Watchers survived the big layoff in London so they can rebuild the Council."
"Seems like she's moving in the right direction," Angel agreed.
"But on top of a Hellmouth?" Wes protested.
Faith grinned. "My objection is that it's Cleveland."
"Where else can a Slayer best learn how to be a Slayer?" Angel asked.
"There is that," Wes allowed. "And the presence of a Watcher's Council, no matter how small, to help train the girls…" He grimaced. "I can see the logic. Well, at least Buffy's group is working on the problem, which is really all anyone can do."
"But we still have lots of questions and no answers," Angel said.
"Yes, research is definitely in order," Wes absently replied. "I'm going to need help."
"Which means a bigger budget and some new hires," Angel said. "Done and done. Wes, I'll leave it up to you to assemble your research team, money no object. Let's not bother Buffy unless we find something concrete."
"The first order of business is to find out more about this Slayer's Scythe," Wes said, his mind already formulating a plan of attack. "Faith, I'm going to need you to tell me everything about your time in Sunnydale, starting with the moment Xander walked you out of the Hyperion."
"But I told Angel last night," Faith protested.
"And now I want you to tell me," Wes said. "I warn you, I'm going to be a lot pickier about the details."
"Great," Faith leaned back and crossed her arms. "I'm gonna need a lot of coffee for this, and a fresh pack of Camels."
Xander ignored the tentative knock on his bedroom door.
A muffled voice gently called. "Xander? S'me. I'm gonna take in the sights. Wanna come with?"
Willow, bang on time. Without looking at his clock, he knew it was 1 o'clock. Willow always knocked on his door at 1 o'clock.
"C'mon, Xand. I don't want to go alone. It's nice out."
Xander said nothing, opting instead to push himself even further in the corner. He held his breath and silently prayed that Willow would just go away.
"Still recovering from L.A., hunh?" The voice sounded like it was trying to convince itself. "That was five days ago, but I understand. I do. I really do. But, I really want to see you. I mean we haven't talked since we got here. I saw you at breakfast this morning, and I'm sorry I didn't…I mean, Buffy's got me running. You understand, right?"
Xander clenched his jaw and maintained his silence. Willowbabble no longer had any power over him.
"I miss you, you know," the voice said quietly. "And I know what you're going through with Anya and all."
*Oh, like you give a shit that Anya's dead,* Xander thought with venom.
"Maybe talking will help?"
Xander really had no interest in hearing Willow's words of wisdom about grief and how to deal, or in Willow's case, how not to deal.
"Right. I understand." A shred of disappointment. "I'll try again later."
Xander listened carefully for signs that Willow hadn't actually moved away from his door, not that he'd actually be able to hear anything. He let out his held breath and allowed himself to sink even deeper into black depression.
He was all cried out, of that he was certain. Of course, just when he was sure there were no more tears to be found, one last crying jag managed to prove him wrong. At least he hadn't gone into a rock star-style rage and trashed the hotel room. Yet.
*That's because you're not pissed at the world, you're pissed at yourself. Jesus, you should've known that all the pairings didn't make any sense. You knew that Anya and Andrew together meant that one of them would wind up dead. Hell, you even joked about it when you told Anya to use Andrew as a shield,* Xander thought.
Why look at that: there are more tears left. Xander hissed in pain as his eye socket throbbed in sympathy.
Andrew was less than no help. Xander had concluded within the first few days that Andrew had lied about Anya saving his life. Every time Xander left his room, Andrew would immediately shoot up to him and would retell Anya's heroic exploits in the last battle. The story just kept getting bigger and better with each retelling. Anya went from racing to Andrew's rescue with sword drawn to single-handedly killing a hundred Turok-Hans with her bare hands and teeth. Xander especially loved the bit where one of the bad guys ripped Anya's shirt off, resulting in a Xena-like battle cry while she taught the offending creature a lesson.
*Insert sarcasm as warranted,* Xander huffed a sob-laugh. *Andrew just couldn't leave well enough alone, could he?*
Xander was pretty certain that Andrew's next step was to draw up canonization papers for Anya. If that happened, Xander planned cheerfully direct Andrew to the closest Catholic list of saints and show him the entry for St. Anyanka, Patron Saint of Scorned Women, complete with Medieval portraits of the once and future icon.
*St. Anyanka pray for us, St. Anyanka aid us, St. Anyanka avenge us, St. Anyanka comfort us. Our hearts call out to you, our tears cry out for you. Your sword is our innocence, your words our weapon. Shed the blood of mine enemies and protect me from their shadows. Such is my wish and will. Amen.*
The words of the ancient prayer had sprung unbidden in his mind. If Xander were even capable of feeling any emotion other than raw pain, he might've been surprised that this particular prayer, out of the several that he'd found, seemed intent on weaving its way through his thoughts since his arrival in Oxnard.
Anya had no idea that he'd done some research on her former life as both demon and saint early on in their dating game. Frankly, he'd thought mentioning that little fact to her would've probably been a mistake, since it might've made her misty for the good old days of blood and gore. Although, in retrospect, maybe Anya would've been ecstatic that he showed an interest.
As it was, he managed to recall the prayer once a day since he washed up in Oxnard, leading him to wonder if he was somehow praying to Anya, Anyanka, or whomever she was when she died. That left some disturbing questions. Save him from whom? And avenge what? And just who deserved to die here? Because from an objective point of view, he was exactly the kind of guy St. Anyanka would've loved to tear apart with her bare hands and teeth, complete with a Xena-like war cry.
*Oh, yeah, let's remember what a fuckface I was to her when she was alive,* Xander crunched even lower, hugging his legs to his chest. He put everyone else's needs before her. In a just world, his girlfriend and later fiance should not have been third place behind Willow and Buffy. Yet, that's where she lived and, what's worse, she probably knew it, too.
Moments like this, he wished he'd never yanked her pictures out of his wallet after finding her doing the nasty with Spike in the magic shop. He desperately wished he had those pictures now, just so he could see her face, just so he could say he was sorry for being less than he should have been.
*But who are you afraid of?* his mind insisted. *Who are you hiding from?*
Xander snorted. The answer, boys and girls? Everyone. Something was not all right in the state of Oxnard and the only thing he could blame was the man in the mirror, because everyone was trying to do and say the right things, especially to him. Hell, even Buffy was going overboard to insist that he was wanted, needed, and should stick with the group. There was almost something desperate about it, as if she could sense that he was drifting away.
And a drifting Xander was an unpredictable Xander, maybe a Xander that would start killing again, only this time human beings, and not demons-to-be, might wind up very, very dead. Even he had to admit that was a possibility, although a corner of his mind raged at him for even thinking that he was capable of doing such a thing.
Fifteen-year-old Xander sniggered in the back of his mind. *Heh. Wonder how far she'll go to keep you with her. Maybe you should start thinking about the 'shower fantasies' and planning for the Big Day.*
Twenty-two-year-old Xander fought the urge to slap himself for the stray thought. Anya's ghost sharing his bed was bad enough.
Without warning Xander felt something slam into him, a cold tidal wave of darkness obscured his vision, leading him into a blind world of hurt. *Christ, not again,* he desperately thought has he fought hard against assault. When he felt his body go numb, he knew he was in for yet another losing battle. He fought anyway, which only increased the agony.
As he sunk beneath the surface, the last vestiges of Xander still capable of rational thought realized that this was the worst attack yet.
When he came to, he was sprawled on the carpeted floor, body twisted like a rag doll. Xander hissed and moaned as he struggled to get to his feet. He gave up when his body simply refused to cooperate. *How long was I out this time?* he wondered as he crawled over to the bedside clock.
Five o'clock. *Shit. At least four hours. That's a record for even me.*
Xander hauled himself onto the bed, exhausted beyond all measure. Once he was settled on his back, he gingerly touched his jaw. Yep. As usual it was stiff, almost as if he'd been chewing stale taffy for the entire four hours he was out. He struggled to a sitting position and glanced around the room. Yep. Still the same feeling that someone had been with him while he was incommunicado, even though there wasn't a shred of evidence or a thing out of place.
He collapsed back on the bed. It was getting worse. If things kept going the way they were, the day was going to come when the blackout would never end. He could feel sleep sneaking up on him and he welcomed it with open arms, nightmares be damned. He needed at least one familiar horror he could fight.
Faith spun out with a roundhouse kick and felt cool hands grab her foot and push. She executed a perfect flip and landed in a crouched position on her feet. She growled at her sparing partner while searching for an opening.
Angel gave her a smirk. The bastard didn't even have the decency to sweat.
Faith charged and at the last minute ducked under his sweeping arm. As she passed, she grabbed his wrist and twisted so he fell to the mat. The vampire tucked himself into a ball and rolled upright.
*Hah! Back to me!* Faith thought as she lashed out with a kick that should have landed squarely in the small of his back, but Angel was just a hair too fast. She missed. While she fought to regain her balance, Angel spun around with a responding kick that landed right on her stomach.
"Oooofffff!" exploded out of her as she landed smack on her ass.
"You okay?" Angel asked with a worried frown.
"Breathe. Need to breathe," Faith wheezed.
Angel rushed over and just as he got close enough, Faith reached out, grabbed Angel's arm, and pulled him forward so he was off balance. As she rolled backwards, she brought up her foot, braced it against his chest and flipped him overhead so he landed on his back behind her. She hopped onto his chest and brought her fist down over his heart. "Bang! You're dead!"
Angel lifted his head off the floor, his expression wearing an irritated frown. "Bang. Bang? What's with the bang?"
Faith shrugged. "Sound effect for you exploding into dust."
Angel dropped his head down onto the mat. "No fair. You used my concern for your health against me."
"I fight dirty," Faith cheerfully said as she hopped to her feet. "Thanks for the workout."
"Same to you. Not to many people can make me raise a sweat when I spar with them."
"You're not sweating. Hell, you're not even warm," Faith complained good-naturedly.
"Figuratively speaking," Angel allowed as he clambered to his feet. "So, have you decided anything?"
"No," Faith replied. "I keep going back and forth. Jail. Run. Jail. Run. Just when I think Bolivia looks like a nice place to settle down, I think I should maybe consider jail because at least I'm guaranteed three squares a day. Then I think I'll probably never see the sunlight before my 80th birthday if I turn myself in and Columbia starts looking really attractive."
Angel crossed his arms and leaned against the workout room wall. "I think you actually want to go back to jail."
"Have you been listening to me? I've said that I don't want…"
"What I've been hearing is someone talking herself into go back to jail because she's too afraid of the cold, cruel world."
"Hey! You want cold, cruel world, you should've been in Sunnydale," Faith protested.
"It's easy, isn't it? Just give up all responsibility and go hide," Angel asked quietly.
"I'm trying to do the right thing, here. I still killed two people and the cops are looking for me. I have to…"
"What? Have to do what, Faith? Pretend that the bars and the chains are what you need to keep you in check? It's just so tempting to just surrender responsibility because when you're finally safe behind your walls, you can hide from the people who need you."
"I'm not hiding…"
"Yes you are," Angel stated. "Believe it or not, Faith, you're needed out here, now more than ever. The world needs people like you. People need…"
"If you even whisper the word 'champion,' I'm gonna make you eat it," Faith threatened.
Angel held up his hands. "Doesn't mean you aren't. You're come so far, Faith. And just to throw yourself away over some misguided belief that prison is your best option because the world is better off without you is the real crime."
Faith threw up her hands in frustration. "This is the part where you get all big brother on me and tell me how you understand me because we are so fucking much alike, isn't it?"
"We're not. You're better than I am," Angel said.
That sentiment stopped Faith cold and she stared at Angel in open shock.
"I shut myself away for years Faith, closed myself off from humanity. I should've been helping. I knew it was the right thing to do, but all that temptation, the demon screaming for blood…" Angel's voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. "I fed off rats Faith. I can still taste them in my mouth. I thought that was penance. I thought that was 'serving my time.' But it wasn't. It took Whistler and Buffy to make me see that."
"God, you sound like Spike. For the love of the Slayer…" Faith snarled.
"Listen to me!" Angel harshly said. "What I do, I do because it's the right thing to do. I do it because it needs doing. No good deed I've ever done or ever will do is going to erase all the evil I've caused. I know that. All I can do is make the world a better place, to do better than I did yesterday. That's how we change the world. That's how we prove we deserve to take up space."
"How does this make me better than you?" Faith asked in a small voice.
"Because, in here," Angel tapped her on her chest, "you already know it. You've proven that you know it. When I needed you, you immediately broke out of prison to help, regardless of the consequences. When Xander came to get you, you went back to Sunnydale even though you knew they'd be suspicious and wouldn't trust you. The fact that you are willing to pay the price for helping other people… Faith? Don't you get it? You already understand what it took me a century to get."
Faith wasn't sure what to say to that, so she said nothing.
Angel sighed. "I'm obviously not so good with the inspirational speeches. I can tell you're tuning me out. You're completely glazed."
"I'm not," Faith said quietly. "Just gave me something to think about."
"Good," Angel nodded.
"Okay, so jail is looking like a less attractive option, but I still have the warrant to worry about. Sooner or later someone is going to catch up with me," Faith said.
"Your warrant's already gone."
Faith stood bolt upright. "What?"
"Faith, this is a law firm. My law firm to be exact," Angel chuckled as he watched the shock play across her face. "The lawyers here have more experience than I want to think about covering up crimes that give me nightmares. How hard do you think it was for this outfit to erase not just your warrant, but all record of your arrest and conviction?"
Faith's mouth opened and closed a few times before she reached down, grabbed the sneaker off her foot, and flung it at Angel's head. The vampire ducked the missile with a grin.
"At what point were you going to tell me this piece of info?" Faith raged. "You do realize that most of my reason for returning to jail was because I didn't want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, right?"
"So I take it that going back to prison is out of the question?" Angel asked in a dry voice.
"Fuckin' a-right," Faith said with a grin. The grin disappeared as quickly as it exploded across her face. "Why?"
"You can do more good if you're actually out in the world where evil exists," Angel said with a shrug. "This is a fresh start. You can go wherever you want with a clean slate. Congratulations. You deserve the chance."
Faith felt her knees go weak at the thought of all that freedom and wondered if this is what Buffy felt like when she looked into the crater and realized that she wasn't fighting alone anymore. "Where will I go? What will I do?" she happily whispered.
"Well, at least I'm not hearing about cookie dough," Angel chuckled.
Faith wrinkled her nose. "Cookie dough? Do I really want to know?"
"Probably not," Angel said. "Something tells me you're not exactly keen on rejoining Buffy."
"I'm not," Faith said slowly.
"There's a but in there, I can just feel it."
Faith shrugged. "It's nothing. Just a feeling. I dunno. B will be fine. Not too sure about the others, though."
"Like Xander."
"What is it with you and the Xander fixation? No, not just Xander, other people too. But, yeah, Xander's kinda a problem. There's something weird goin' on there," Faith shook her head. "B's got a thing about keeping him close, y'know. It's creepy possessive."
"You don't think he and she…"
Faith snorted. "Right. Xander's not exactly looking to score and B wouldn't even give him the time of day if he was."
"Hold your enemies close," Angel muttered.
Faith shot her sparing partner a questioning look. "You think?"
Angel shrugged. "Buffy may be concerned that Xander will go off the deep end and start killing again, only this time he won't limit his victims to other demons. She might be just making sure he stays docile."
"Or she might see him as a threat," Faith answered quietly.
"That's what I said."
"That's not what I meant," Faith absently replied, replaying everything Buffy said about Xander in her head. "She was talking real trash about him, saying he was unstable, saying he couldn't handle dealing with the outside world, but I don't know. I couldn't tell if she even believed it herself or was just tying to convince the rest of us."
"He seemed like he was riding the ragged edge when he was here," Angel pointed out.
"Yeah, but that's a whole different ballgame from being dangerously insane. I've been dangerously insane. I know what it looks and feels like and Xander's nowhere near that point," Faith said.
"Yet."
"Maybe."
"Look, you're not going to solve your life in one day and you're certainly not responsible for solving Xander's, so I say you let it rest for now," Angel said. "Why don't we grab Lorne tomorrow and maybe he can point you in the right direction."
Faith winced. "Not sure if that's such a hot idea. I'd rather figure it out on my own."
"Fair enough," Angel nodded. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and grinned. "Sunset. Rumor has it that there's a nest of G'a'roh demons setting up shop in the warehouse district."
"Attacking people?" Faith perked up.
"Nah, union busting," Angel replied.
"Bastards. I say we show them what happens to scabs."
"Amen sistah," Angel said in his best fake Gunn voice. "Let's go bust some heads."
"Right on!" Faith whooped. She ran, grabbed her sneaker, and dove into the elevator just as Angel punched the button for his penthouse suite. A thought struck her. "Hey Angel?"
"What?"
"Doesn't your mouth burn when you say 'amen'?"
{A hand is clasped around his throat, the sense of vision graying out, a taunting voice whispering in his ear, "You're the one who sees everything, aren't you? Let's see what we can do about that."}
{A desperate struggle to break the grip, a memory of bone chilling fear, a silent mental plea because the hand crushing his windpipe has stolen his voice. *No, no. I'm blind, I see nothing, I'm blind. I swear*…}
{He sees the close-up of a thumb followed by an excruciating blackness in his left eye and then he is falling, plummeting really, and he screams for someone to catch him.}
{Except no one catches him. Not ever.}
{He lands with a hard thud and spends time catching his breath, but he hears the outraged scream because he failed to die like a good little boy. He looks up and seeks some way to escape. He's surprised that he still has stereoscopic vision, that he isn't blind on his left side. His vision blurs momentarily and he swipes at his eyes. When his hands pull away they're covered in blood.}
{The war cry is closer now and Xander jumps to his feet and flees, scrambling blindly through tight, rocky tunnels that open out into sewers. He stops, breathing heavily, standing knee deep in filth. Something brushes by his leg and he makes the mistake of looking down. The corpse of a young girl stares back at him, fixing him with an accusing stare. *You should have known,* she seems to say, *you should have seen*…}
{"Xander!"}
{He looks up and sees Faith, wearing her armor of bad-ass attitude and tight, barely-there clothing. Yet he sees the chinks in her armor and he can sense the bright light struggling to break free to somehow make this mess better.}
{"Catch!"}
{He reflexively reaches a hand out and is surprised when something slaps into his hand. He stares at the Slayer's Scythe. He wonders where she hid it and remembers an old *Highlander* joke about 'katana space' where any female immortal could hide her sword under skin-tight leather.}
{The voice breathes over him, the one that tried to rob him of his sight. "You will never see again."}
{He spins around, not quite believing that he's capable of doing this maneuver and yet he is. Reflexes he doesn't know he had take over and he ducks a moment before a foot flies over his head. Another spin and he's screaming as he swings the Scythe. He feels it slice through something, striking through muscle and bone and sending shocks up his arm as he keeps spinning and pushing the blade beyond.}
{When he finally stops, he is alone in the dark.}
{And the severed head of Buffy Summers rolls to a dead stop at his feet.}
Xander jumped out of bed and blindly fled straight into a wall. He was rewarded with a dull thump as his body made contact with the hard surface and he crumpled to the ground with a stunned cry. Every muscle fiber shook and his teeth chattered in a combination of fear and ice cold.
His nightmares were getting worse and more graphic, a perfect pairing to the increased violence of his blackouts. He wondered if Faith's departure for L.A. was connected to the increasing bloodiness of his imagination every time he tried to sleep. It was a ridiculous thought, especially since Faith and he barely exchanged words after things got hot and heavy in Sunnydale and she took up with Robin, but his scrambling mind couldn't help but wonder if there was a connection.
The shadows moved and undulated around him, whispering that he had to tell someone. He couldn't keep it to himself. He had the responsibility, no, the duty, to come clean and confess.
Xander snorted a laugh. Oh, yeah. He could just tell how that conversation would go. He could picture himself dropping to on knee before a seated Buffy while he lovingly whispers how he dreams of killing her, or her killing him. How they switch off, every other night, and the inventive ways they use to shed each other's blood using every weapon known to man.
"Oh let me count the ways," Xander quietly sing-songed from his position on the floor. "Staking, shooting, beheading, stabbing, hanging, crushing, tossing into Hellmouths. But of all of them, my favorite is strangling. I love it when I strangle you, or you strangle me. Bare hands only, of course, because that's the way to do it if you really want to get intimate. Just ask Faith."
And that's not even counting the weird shit parading as rational thought making regular special guest appearances in his mind.
He hauled himself to his feet and stumbled over to the hotel room table. The pile of papers was still there. Everything he needed to know about Anya's financial accounts, but was afraid to ask, all with his name on them, and all with enough money to get him away.
And he had to get away, a soft insistent voice whispered in the back of his mind. The longer he stayed, the worse he was going to get. Sooner or later he just might give in to temptation and act on those nightmares. Buffy would be dead for sure and Andrew was definitely for the chop. And he really doubted that Willow, Dawn, Giles, or any number of baby Slayers would be safe from him by the time it was over.
"St. Anyanka, pray for us…" Xander whispered as he picked up the pile and clutched it tight to his chest. He moved to the bureau and pulled out his duffle bag, a recent purchase, and shoved the paperwork inside. It was quickly followed by the few items of clothing and toiletries he managed to collect in his short time in Oxnard.
Since there wasn't much to pack, he was finished and dressed in a few minutes. He glanced at the clock, noting the time was a little past 2 AM. If he were lucky, no one would notice he was missing for at least twelve hours, plenty of time to simply disappear.
"St. Anyanka aid us…and protect me from my shadows. Amen," he whispered into the darkness. With that, Xander cautiously opened the door and headed out into the night.
{She's running desperately through a maze of back alleys, leaping over trashcans and dodging parked cars. She looks up in a desperate attempt to get her bearings and realizes with a shock that she can see the Pru. She skids to halt and realizes that the radio tower is a solid red. *Steady red, storms ahead,* Faith thinks, remembering the childhood rhyme for deciphering the skyscraper's color codes.}
{A howl behind her brings her back to the here and now. No time to wonder how in hell she wound up in the heart of Boston. She has to keep moving before they find her.}
{Although she's not entirely sure who they are.}
{She skitters blindly between the brownstones, more confident of where she's going. If she can just make it to the exit, she can shoot across the street and hide in the Public Garden. After that, she'll lose them in the post-theater crowds on Boylston and duck into the Four Seasons.}
{A hand gasps her from behind. "Did you think you could escape me, whore?" a voice hisses. It sounds like a mix of people: traces of Caleb, a hint of her mother, a dab of Wes, a touch of Giles, a dollop of Angelus, and more than a little Buffy. Everyone she knows and has ever known in fact, except there seems to be a voice missing. As the grip tightens to iron around her throat, she loses all interest in trying to place the missing voice and is more interested in fighting to breathe.}
{"Bitch. Can't do as you're told, can't behave, can't follow the rules." A breath shudders across her left ear. "You can't save yourself, so how can you save anyone else?"}
{With a hint of laughter she's shoved to the ground, except the ground gives way and she's falling, struggling in space. Just when she thinks she'll never land, she feels the telltale whomp of hitting a soft surface. Her body freezes in shock. She expected unforgiving tar, not…}
{Sand?}
{She looks up and realizes that she's in a desert. She hops to her feet and listens carefully for her pursuer. Instead of a war cry behind her, she hears the sounds of fighting ahead of her. She feels her face crunch in confusion since for as far as the eye can see she's alone. She walks deeper into the desert, her stride becoming more cautious with each step forward. She nearly jumps out of her skin when figures of young girls rise up from the sand, as insubstantial as mirages, but as solid as flesh.}
{She circles around, trying to get a good look at their faces, which remain blurry and indistinct. What she does see is that each girl and young woman are sparring in pairs, going through the motions of Slayer training. As each pair notices her, heads bow out of respect. A few of the bolder girls wave to her.}
{A voice behind her startles her. "You need my sight."}
{Son of a bitch. The missing voice.}
{She spins around and sees Xander standing Right.Behind.Her. He's so still that Faith at first thinks he's a photograph, posed so he stands at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. There's a wrongness about his presence, this lone male in a desert of females. She opens her mouth to demand an explanation for his presence when it hits her. He has two eyes, except the left one is now bright emerald green.}
{She blinks hard against his impassive stare, and turns away, shaking her head as a wave of dizziness washes over her. When she opens her eyes she is once again facing the training Slayers. This time she sees more clearly and realizes with a shock that each girl's visage is vacillating between her's and Buffy's faces. The identities flash so quickly between light and dark, blonde and brunette, that Faith's own eyes can barely register where one begins and the other ends.}
{The pattern suddenly changes and a third face interposes itself, this one darker, more primal, a flash of something more instinct and less Watcher-imposed intellect. Something within her recognizes the First Slayer.}
{She's drawn deeper into the fighting, a lone woman wandering among the ghosts, peering hard at the flash of patterns. No one engages her, no one sees her. She may as well not be there. She hears the war cry again and her head snaps around in an effort to find the source, body tensed to flee.}
{Instead of a person, demon, or some other creature, she sees a shadow slithering among the girls. She hesitates, every sense telling her that this is bad, except she isn't sure what exactly she's seeing.}
{While she stands frozen in indecision, she watches the shadow creep slowly, overtaking individual girls, swirling around them like an early morning New England mist, and obscuring them even further from her sight. They each in turn smile to the shadow, welcoming it with relief and open arms. Faith can dimly hear them call, "Teach us. Show us. Help us." The shadow takes a brief, indistinct form before sliding into their arms, engulfing each girl, and melting them into a pool of blood.}
{Her feet are rooted to the sand and she tries to call out a warning, but her voice is locked in her chest. She heaves a sigh of relief when she spots figures moving through the dimming light. Their movements indicate they are desperately hunting, but they are consistently two or three victims behind their quarry. She spots Willow's flaming red hair and the dark mahogany of the First Slayer. She realizes with a start that the two women are guarding the third and that third is Xander. Of the trio, only Xander is carrying a weapon.}
{Unable to scream, unable to move her feet, she begins flailing and waving to get their attention. Willow—*finally*—looks up and sees her. She flings out an arm and her hand somehow reaches Faith, grabbing her and pulling her to the trio across the expanse of sand. Faith stops with a grunt. She nods her thanks to Willow and turns to Xander. Once again she freezes when she realizes that Xander is holding the Slayer's Scythe.}
{Xander's head whips away from her gaze and he's off at a dead run. Seconds later a scream rips through the air and one of the girls about to be consumed by the shadow. Just as the two meld, Xander swings the Scythe and beheads the dissolving child. The head bounces and rolls to Faith's feet and she realizes with horror that Buffy's face is staring back at her. The mirage shimmers in the heat.}
{She faces Xander as he returns to the group at a jog. Before she can demand an explanation, he tosses the axe to her, and she easily snatches it out of the air. She's disconcerted that his expression still blank, and that those mismatched eyes focusing on her.}
{Xander warns, "Gotta keep moving."}
{"Like a shark," replies Buffy's head as it melts into the sand.}
{"Like a shark with much less fins and feet," Xander responds as if he knows this ritual by rote.}
{"Way ahead of you big brother," Willow responds as she grabs Faith's hand and leads her forward through the dissolving desert.}
{Faith is suddenly standing alone in a motel lobby and is startled to realize that she's back Oxnard. The shadow is here, too, flowing between and around furniture and people. Every once in awhile, it catches a young girl around her ankles and draws her under.}
{Faith wildly looks around to find someone, anyone that she can grab to help her stop this thing. She turns 360-degrees and nearly jumps when she's face-to-face with Xander and his mismatched eyes. He regards her with that unnatural stillness.}
{"You see that?" she demands.}
{"Do you?" he calmly responds.}
{"What is this?" she screams.}
{"Mystical forces surrounding the Chosen line have become irrevocably altered, become unstable, vulnerable," Xander says in that too-calm voice.}
{"What?"}
{"The First Evil did not cause the disruption, only seized upon it to extinguish the lives of the Chosen forever," Xander continues as if he's repeating his lines from a pre-prepared script that's been beamed directly into his brain from Mars.}
{Faith shakes herself and thinks about what Xander has said. "Fine. Disruption. Got it. What caused it?"}
{"The Slayer."}
{The shadow swirls around them and Faith sees the tendrils of darkness feeling their way up Xander's face. With horrific slowness the tendrils sink into his eyes and she hears the sickening pop as Xander falls unconscious to the floor, blood running down his face.}
Faith jolted out of bed with a scream. Angel appeared at her bedside so suddenly that Faith wondered where he came from. She immediately started babbling in a way that almost everyone who knew her would consider very un-Faith-like.
"Wes. I gotta get Wes, now!"
"What happened?"
"I think I had one of those freaky Slayer dreams," Faith kicked off the covers and started rooting around the bedroom for jeans and a real shirt. "Fuck. Fuck. Damn it!"
"I'll get him here." On that note, Angel evaporated, presumably to get her ex-Watcher.
God knows where Wes came from, but he was pounding on the door to Angel's penthouse suite within twenty minutes. Faith ran for the door, flung it open, grabbed Wes by his collar, and dragged him inside.
"I'm assuming there's a problem?" Wes asked with irritating caution as he straightened his glasses.
"Damn right! Dream! Bad dream!" Faith hated the edge of hysteria creeping into her voice, but she was too damn creeped out to care.
"Calm down, Faith. Start from the beginning."
Faith took a deep breath and began talking.
Xander glanced in his rearview mirror, half-expecting to see them following his cheap clunker of a car. It was stupid, of course. He initiated the Great Xander Escape exactly one hour ago, so there was no way anyone even knew he was gone.
Didn't stop him from worrying that the alarm had already been sounded and that they were even now chasing him down with the sole purpose of dragging him back to Oxnard.
For the first time in his life, he knew they'd force him to stay with them. A lifetime of wishing that someone, anyone, would notice him and see him as someone worth keeping around now seemed like a curse, the sort of wish you'd unthinkingly voice to an innocent-looking female face only to see that face transform into a nightmare of veins and wrinkles and hear the scratchy whisper of 'done.' Next thing you knew, your harmless wish became a creative form of payback.
He knew these things because of all the stories Anya used to tell about perverting…
*Anya.* He cut off the thought when the pinprick threat of tears burned at the back of his one good eye. The other eye, the one behind the eye patch, gave a warning shiver. He was slowly realizing that he couldn't quite correctly call the space where his left eye used to be an empty eye socket. Something was happening in that void and Xander was too frightened to lift the eye patch and take a close look at it. Of course, these days his own reflection frightened him to the point where he would spare the mirror only a passing glance while he shaved, and only then it was just to make sure he didn't cut his own throat and bleed to death.
Not that bleeding to death in some fly-by-night hotel didn't have it's own appeal.
A threatening growl from the car's engine snapped Xander's one good eye to the idiot gages just in time to see the check engine light flicker. Xander helplessly gave the dashboard a good smack, the sound of flesh hitting vinyl echoing in the noisy cabin. The light flicked off and the man let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He reflexively checked the rearview mirror again.
Once he made certain that the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler commandeered by a very powerful and very pissed off witch wasn't coming up behind him, he allowed himself to relax. *My, aren't we being obsessive and depressive all at the same time,* Xander thought with grim amusement. *Look out world! I'm on my way! One newly minted demon*…
Xander pressed his lips in a thin line, refusing to think any more about his supposed demon heritage. The hope that Buffy offered that Giles might have been wrong, wrong, wrong about one Xander Harris being a demon should've provided no end of immense relief. The problem was, he wasn't sure Giles was wrong.
There were the unexplained blackouts chased by the nightmares, the kind of nightmares he expected a bloodthirsty demon with a yen for notching a Slayer kill under his belt to have. Xander gripped the steering wheel so he could focus on the act of driving the car, wishing desperately he had the guts to just to commit suicide and get it over with. He reached down and snapped on the radio, hoping the music would distract him from his own disordered thoughts.
A cold swirl that shivered along his spinal column and the sound of amused laughter filled his ears. *No, no, no, not here, please, not now,* he silently begged. His vision blinkered and threatened to shut down, causing him to slam on the brakes and bring the piece-of-crap automobile to a screeching halt. He panted desperately, fighting the creeping sensation.
Miraculously, and for the first time, the tide receded and he snapped back to full awareness, fingers reflexively began clutching and unclutching the steering wheel in a nervous tic. He was able to catch his bearings a few moments later and cursed when he realized he was at a dead stop in the middle of the two-lane road. After silently thanking whoever was watching over him that there was no traffic this early in the morning, he checked the rearview mirror again and, satisfied that the field behind him was clear, began moving.
It was moments like this that he knew running was the right thing to do.
It was moments like this that he was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd be dead before the week was out.
Right now running or dying both seemed like equally good options.
"Well!" Faith demanded as she paced the apartment.
"I don't know what to say," Wes replied helplessly.
"Not what I want to hear."
"Look, what you described has already happened. The First was killing Potentials, Caleb did come to Sunnydale, the Slayer's Scythe was found, and Xander did suffer an eye injury," Wes said with irritating calm. "Are you sure you're not replaying the past few weeks over in your dreams?"
"No! I'm telling you Wes. This dream? This dream was different. Comparing this dream to the usual crap that goes through my head when I sleep is like comparing a Harley to a rice burner."
Angel raised a hand. "Rice burner?"
"You don't drive motorbikes, do you?" Wes asked.
"Fine, Harley to a moped, then." Faith threw up her arms in frustration. "I'm not crazy!"
"No one said you were," Wes soothed.
"Stop humoring me!"
"I'm not. Maybe we should consult Lorne."
"Ohhhh, no. I'm not doing the Britney Spears thing," Faith growled. "I don't do singing."
"You can't possibly sound as bad as Angel singing 'Mandy'," Wes said.
"Hey!" Angel protested.
"I still have nightmares about you serenading Jasmine," Wes sniffed.
"Wesley…" Faith growled.
"Faith, do you want to know what the dream means or not?" Wes asked with the kind of impatient patience that set Faith's teeth right on edge. "It's the only way we'll be able to tell if your dream was a legitimate Slayer dream or just another nightmare."
"There's gotta be another way," Faith said plaintively. "Catholic School skirts give me bad flashbacks."
"Good Lord, Faith!" Wes exclaimed, his exasperation showing. "You don't have to dress in costume!"
"I'm reaching, aren't I?" Faith deflated. "Look, I'm not all hot and heavy for Lorne to be poking around my head and telling me what's best. I got enough of people ordering me around in prison."
"Faith? Did this dream terrify you?" Wes asked.
Faith squared her shoulders. "No. I had you dragged out of the bed in the middle of the fuckin' night to talk pop music. What the hell do you think?"
"Lorne it is, then," Angel said. He picked up the phone, dialed, and waited. "Lorne? Sorry to wake you at…" Angel looked at the clock on the wall, "After 3 AM, but we have an emergency." The vampire sighed and rolled his eyes as a clearly irritated green demon complained. "Look, I get it. Beauty sleep, meeting with Streisand's people tomorrow, yada, yada." Angel winced and Faith could swear she heard high-pitched scolding coming from the receiver. "Not tomorrow, now!" Angel growled. "Emergency. Slayer emergency." The vampire rolled his eyes. "Faith is fine, but she needs a reading. No! It can't wait until tomorrow!" Angel smiled a toothy grin. "Fine. I'll send a limo to pick you up. Hell, I'll even let you crash in the penthouse suite. Good? Good."
Angel hung up with a satisfied click. "He'll be here in a half-hour."
"Well, Kitten Hips, you're gonna have to sing if you want to learn the onesies and twosies of that little Freudian term paper."
"I'm still not liking this," Faith said.
"Faith, be reasonable." Wes threw his hands up in despair over Faith's continuing intransigence. "You have dragged no less than three people out of bed insisting that this dream means something. Now, we can sit here and dig through every book in every dimension to come up with something that will put your mind at rest, or we can do this the easy way."
"I'm not on board with anyone crawling through my head," Faith said.
"I don't crawl through your head, I read your aura. Get it right," Lorne grumbled.
Faith's eyes narrowed. "Fine. You stick only with the dream. I don't want you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. No 'you'll meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger' crap or I'm outta here."
"You make me sound like a peeping tom," Lorne protested. He held his hands up in surrender under Faith's withering stare. "Fine, promise. Dream only. Did I call you 'kitten hips'? More like 'bull-in-China-shop'."
Faith appraised Lorne suspiciously for a moment and then sighed and shut her eyes. "If even one of you laughs, I swear I am more than willing to go back to prison for another murder."
"Ohh, let's hear some Britney. You got the bod for it," Lorne said.
"No Britney," Faith said through clenched teeth.
"Avril Lavigne, then? Something nice and easy," Lorne urged.
"What do I look like? An *American Idol* contestant? Try again."
"How about Manilow?" Angel asked. When everyone in the room turned to look at him, he added, "What? I like Manilow."
The other three room occupants looked at each other before Faith said, "Manilow."
"Yeah. 'Weekend in New England' is a nice song," Angel said with positively no embarrassment about admitting this fact.
"Fine. Manilow for the vampire in the corner," Faith sighed. She held up a finger, "Not. One. Word. About. My. Singing. Voice."
Lorne and Wes fought to keep straight faces as they solemnly nodded.
"I can't believe that I'm about to admit that I know this friggin' song," Faith muttered. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Last night, I waved good-bye, now it seems years. I'm back in the city, where nothing is clear…"
Faith stopped singing when she heard the thud. "Hey! I'm not that bad," she protested as she opened her eyes. Her eyes widened in shock when she realized that Lorne was struggling to get off the floor. Judging by the angle of his body, his ultimate goal was to run clear across the room and right out of the door.
A shaken Wesley walked over to Lorne and offered him a hand. The Slayer couldn't help but notice that Lorne shot her a terrified glance before looking back at Wes and accepting help to get to his feet. She also noticed that the former Watcher refused to let go of the demon's hand once Lorne was upright. The grim set of Wesley's jaw somehow worried her more than Lorne's runaway attempt.
Lorne blinked hard and nodded at Wesley, prompting the man to drop the green hand. Lorne turned to look at Faith and he opened his mouth to speak, but a stream of nonsense came pouring out. He shut his mouth, shook his head, and tried again. This time stream of expletives that made even Faith blush flew out of his mouth and polluted the room. He snapped his mouth shut and helplessly looked at Wesley.
"Well, that's not good," Angel dryly said. "Wes?"
"Maybe Lorne's senses are still scrambled from Jasmine," Wes speculated.
"No, I'm telling you guys, that's not it. Something isn't letting me talk," Lorne said.
"You seem fine now," Faith said through narrowed eyes.
"That's because I'm not talking about it," Lorne shuddered. "I saw it, I'm not sure I get it, but as for what I did see? I am not thrilled about it. I wish I hadn't seen it. Something out there won't let me see or talk details."
"Well what can you tell me?" Faith fought hard to keep her hands by her sides instead of wrapped around Lorne's neck.
Lorne sighed. "Okay. I'm going to give this a shot. Remember waaaay back when Xander first showed up looking for you?"
"Yeah," Faith said slowly.
"What did I tell you?"
"I gotta watch his back, that everything's counting on it," Faith said as light dawned on her face. "Shit. I thought that was just until Buffy and her gang voted not to kill him. Are you trying to tell me this was supposed to be a permanent thing?"
"Well, it certainly was supposed to be for longer than the lifecycle of a mayfly," Lorne said. "Still, no fault on your silky head. I'd think you were free and clear once the Sunnydale Hellmouth went poof."
"We need more details," Wesley chimed in.
"I'll give it a go, so let me know if this comes out as gobbledygook, too. Your long-term survival and his long-term survival are intertwined. The longer you remain apart, the more quickly both of you are going to be devoured. You have to get away from California and stay clear of any Hellmouths and…" Lorne's message trailed off into a stream of nonsense.
"Christ. You gotta do better than that," Faith said.
"That's about all I can say, Squeezie Buns," Lorne dejectedly replied. "Let's try this: Mystical forces surrounding the Chosen line have become irrevocably altered, become unstable, vulnerable…"
"The disruption was caused by the Slayer," Faith interrupted for him. "Shit. That's what Xander told me in my dream."
Wesley and Angel turned to look at Faith with confusion. "You mentioned a warning about the Slayer line being vulnerable, but you didn't give us the exact wording. Do you remember?" Wes asked with tight calm.
"'Mystical forces surrounding the Chosen line have become irrevocably altered, become unstable, vulnerable.'" Faith was shocked she remembered the warning word-for-word. "'The First Evil did not cause the disruption, only seized upon it to extinguish the lives of the Chosen forever.' Then when I asked him what caused it, he told me 'the Slayer' did it."
"Oh dear god. The activation spell," Wes said.
"You think?" Faith asked. "Shit. If you're right…"
"The spell just created a world class cluster fuck," Angel somberly said.
"But how?" Faith desperately didn't want to believe it.
"We have to find that out," Wes said urgently.
"We have to tell Buffy," Angel said.
"I'm thinkin' she's not gonna be all that receptive to the message," Faith said. "She's chalking this up as the victory to end all victories and if you come at her with guns blazing, she's gonna be pissed, especially if she finds out you're basing everything on one of my dreams."
"This is no time for personality clashes," Angel snarled.
"You can't discount the bad blood," Wes quietly interjected. "We might not like it, but it's there and Faith is right to be concerned about it. We do need more proof, aside from our own conjectures…"
"Which is based on some common sense," Angel protested.
"Buffy's group might not see it that way," Wes disagreed. "But beyond that, we still don't know all the facts or the long-term effects of this spell and that's what we really need to find out."
Angel closed his eyes in defeat. "Fine. But we can't waste any time. Wes, about that department we talked about? We need it yesterday."
"Yeah, this whole 'Feed the World' moment is all well and good, but we still have to address our back yard," Lorne interrupted. "Hate to kick you while you're still New Kids on the Block down, but we gotta get two crazy kids together, otherwise they're both going to die in messy ways."
"Fuck. I gotta get my ass to Oxnard," Faith said. "This ain't gonna be pretty because I'm thinking B's not gonna welcome me back with open arms. Plus, I don't think Robin's going to be too thrilled if I start hangin' with Xander 24-7 while trying to convince him to get the hell out of the Dodge and that he should take me with. Complications like this I don't fucking need."
Lorne cleared his throat. "Okay, this piece of information. Let's see if it passes the Big Brother lock-down on my mouth. Let me know if this makes sense. He's not there."
"What?" Faith asked.
"He's not in Oxnard. He's on the road," Lorne happily said. He reached over and grabbed a pad and pencil. "Go to this truck stop and you'll find him there."
"That sounds suspiciously like tall, dark, handsome stranger crap," Faith growled.
Angel blinked. "You think Xander's handsome?"
"I'm beginning to think you're obsessed," Faith commented.
Wes snatched the piece of paper out of Lorne's hands the second the demon was done scribbling and studied it with a frown. "It's going to take you an hour to get there by car," he said.
"Which means we have to hurry," Angel commented as he went for his coat.
Faith was pretty sure that her early morning walk down soft rock lane was affecting her brain when she and Angel finally made the truck stop. The digital 6:00 AM on the dashboard clock had her half-giddily remembering a Monkees song about daydream believers and six o'clock alarms that never ring.
"This is it. See any car you recognize?" Angel asked.
"Nope. Doesn't mean he's driving anything I would recognize," Faith replied. "He could've switched horses."
"Right. I'll leave you here. Let's not spook him with too many people waiting in ambush."
"Besides, it's not like you can leave the car, right?"
Angel looked longingly out the windshield. "Right," he replied softly.
Faith took a deep breath. "I'm outta here. Wish me luck."
"Faith, wait," Angel said.
"What?"
Angel reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small pendant and something that looked like a credit card. "Lorne couldn't tell me why, but he was pretty adamant that you keep this pendant with you at all times and, once you settle down, you keep it in your primary residence."
"Why?"
"I've seen this before. It will shield you from any locator spells."
Faith's eyes widened. "Willow."
"I'm guessing, if she's half as powerful as I believe. And this," Angel held up the credit card-looking object, "is an ATM card."
"Hunh?" Faith was stunned. "Why?"
"As of right now, I'm putting you on a stipend, a generous stipend, courtesy of a blind trust set up by Wolfram & Hart. You'll be able to check your balance or draw funds from any bank in the world without drawing attention to you or the fund. It's all completely untraceable."
"Angel, I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything. Take the card and get going."
Faith held out her hand and Angel dropped the card and pendant in her palm. She gently touched the plastic surface with a finger before taking it and the pendant and stuffing both in her pocket. Faith had never held an ATM card in her life. "Thanks," she muttered uncomfortably. "You don't have to do this."
Angel favored her with a smile. "Oh, yes I do. I mean, I got mine. What's the use of all that money if I can't help out some friends in need?"
Faith stood shivering on the side of the road in the traditional hitchhiker pose. So far four cars had stopped to offer her a ride. Since none of the drivers looked even vaguely like a Xansel in distress, she turned them all away.
"Jesus, Xander, how slow can you possibly be driving?" Faith whispered in frustration between her chattering teeth. Judging by the increasing light in the sky, she guessed she'd been standing in front of the truck stop for a half-hour.
She fingered the cell phone on her waistband and wondered if she should try and call Xander. Hell, for all she knew Lorne was wrong, her dream was crap, and Xander was safe and sound in Oxnard. *Oh, yeah, like you really believe that. You may not be big on the Slayer dreaming, but you know it when you see it,* Faith thought.
She briefly considered maybe calling Willow and just casually asking how Xander was doing. If anything, her dream seemed to put Willow in the trust-worthy column. Still, calling Willow? That was sure to sound the Scooby alarm.
Right. Back to calling Xander. She'd have an excuse. She promised she'd call if she made a decision. She could make all sorts of crazy claims to get him here faster. Then again, if Xander was fleeing Oxnard, he might be teetering on the edge and the last thing she wanted to do was spook him.
Fine. Element of surprise it is then. She shivered miserably as another car pulled up. She peeked in to see an off-duty police officer for one of the local towns look at her. "Where to?"
Faith fought down the panic as she firmly reminded herself that this woman would have no reason to think she was an escaped con. "Sorry. It's kinda a joke. Your car kinda looks like a car this friend of mine is driving. He's supposed to pick me up and he's late. As usual," Faith said with as broad a smile as she could muster.
"That's a relief. A young girl like you shouldn't be sticking your thumb out for a ride," the cop replied.
"Gotchya. Stupid ain't stamped on my forehead," Faith said, maintaining her smile. She stood up and gave a friendly slap on the car's roof. "Thanks anyway!"
Faith the woman wave and watched the car speed off. When the taillights faded, she let her face relax into a worried frown. She had to get out of the escaped con mentality, especially since even if anyone checked, she was a free and full citizen of the good ol' U.S. of A.
"That's it Xander. On the count of three, your car is coming straight down that road and I'm jumping in front of it," Faith groused. "One. Two…" Her eyes opened wide in shock as she saw one rusted Buick Century weaving its way down the two-lane highway. "Son of a…" she began.
It couldn't be. If Xander was making a break for it, he couldn't possibly be so stupid as to be driving the car he bought this far away from Oxnard. Smart people would've dumped the car and boosted a new one.
Smart people, or people still capable of rational thought.
Faith steeled herself and jumped into the road, wildly waving her arms, forcing the car to come to a screeching halt just inches away from her thighs. She slammed her hands down on the hood and peered through the windshield. Staring back at her was one moon-faced, exhausted, one-eyed, brunette male who looked shocked to see her.
The Slayer fled to the driver's side door, yanked it open, and shouted, "Move over. Move over right now!"
"Faith? What?"
"I don't have time for this! Slide your butt over now and let me drive!" Faith screamed.
Xander threw the car into park and scrambled over to the passenger side while Faith slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her. She made a great show of looking in the rearview mirror before shifting the car back into drive and slamming her foot down on the gas. As the car accelerated to 60 mph, Faith looked over her shoulder and commented, "Good. I'm not being followed."
"Faith, what the hell happened!" Xander exploded.
"Some cops made me and I had to scoot. I'm pretty sure I was dogged all the way here," Faith said. "Hey! How did you know I was going to be here?"
"I…I…didn't," Xander hesitated.
"You didn't?" Faith frowned while her brain raced. "Then what are you doing so far from Oxnard?"
"Ummm, I was, ah, starting my sabbatical."
"Really? The way B was talking, she made it sound like you were sticking around for the long haul." Faith glanced at him to gage his reaction.
Xander dejectedly slumped in the passenger seat, a clear sign that he wasn't being entirely truthful about the 'sabbatical.' "I take it you're going back to Oxnard."
The man's—*demon, he's a demon,* Faith corrected herself—defeated tone tore her heart just a little. His desire to return to the presence of Queen Buffy apparently was lower than her own.
"Can't. The APB is out and just about every cop in this state is gunning for my ass. The last thing B and the others need is me leading a SWAT team to the motel."
"You'd think Angel and his evil law firm could do something about that," Xander remarked without much heat.
"Fred's working on it, but that shit takes time. They have to search something like a million electronic databases and delete my name from the 'wanted files.' Plus, Fred's all hot and heavy to do a really thorough job and erase all records of my arrest and conviction." She tried not to let any pride in her whopper of a story shine through in her voice.
"How long will it take?"
"Fred said something like six months to a year, but Angel was pretty sure if I stuck close to the corporate office, they could hide me pretty safely. One stupid vampire staking in Beverly Hills shot that idea all to hell." *Wow, this story is getting better and better,* Faith marveled. *Hope I remember it if Xander decides to ask for details.*
"If it's possible, your luck is almost as bad as mine."
"Yeah, well, Angel told me to take off while he diddled with the cops and try to throw them off the scent, but I don't think it worked. Some cop saw me while I was hitchhiking early this morning and I've been ducking and covering ever since. Man, I am soooo glad you came along."
"What can I do?"
"'What can I do,' he asks," Faith snorted. "You've got the wheels to get my ass out of California. I can't stay here."
"Faith? The whole point of my little vacation is to be alone, not have some crazy-assed Slayer dragging me all over hell and creation on some…"
Faith slammed her foot on the brake, bringing the car to sharp stop. Xander, who had thus far failed to put on his seatbelt, slammed into dashboard with an impressive thud. "Who are you calling crazy?" she demanded.
"Certainly not you, since you seem hell bent on breaking every bone in my body." Xander growled.
"Okay, look. Sorry. I'm just scared." *Well, at least that much is true,* Faith allowed herself.
"Faith? No offense, but could you start driving again? We're stopped in the middle of the road."
"Fine," Faith huffed, as she urged the car forward.
Xander quickly buckled himself in while glaring at his hijacker. "I thought you were seriously thinking of turning yourself in."
"I was, but Angel convinced me I could do more good on the outside," Faith said. "Plus, Xander, you should see the sweet set-up he's got. The penthouse, the fully-equipped training room, gourmet food in the employee cafeteria, hot and cold running men…"
"Sounds like torture," Xander said.
"Yeah, well, if prison was anything like that, I'd be all, 'Chain me to the wall.' Plus, did I tell you? I even got an allowance."
Xander blinked. "Who are you and what have you done with Faith?"
"Look, I'm just saying that if you're going to help save the world, there's no point in doing it while collecting food stamps, know what I mean? Besides, it's not like I spent any of it. I tucked it away in a bank account just in case," Faith shrugged.
"I still don't see why you need me to…"
"Company," Faith quickly said. "I mean you're taking a vacay anyway, right? And I'm thinkin' it's about time I made a triumphant return to Boston."
"Boston? Faith, staying in the country is not your smartest move. I've read John Grisham and let me tell you the FBI has wanted posters of you plastered from here to the ends of the earth."
"Shit." Faith felt schizophrenic. She had to act normal in public, but like a wanted con in front of Xander. Her simple little scheme was becoming a damn sight less simple. "Look, I gotta stay out of the hands of the law until Angel works his magic. I don't care if it means I gotta live in an igloo in the Great White North."
"Fine, so let's go straight to Canada then."
"Wanted posters, remember? Can't cross the border." *Damn, I'm fucking awesome,* Faith thought with some satisfaction. "Besides, I got a stash of weapons in Boston and right now we got jack shit."
"You thought far enough ahead to have a stash of weapons in Boston," Xander said suspiciously.
"Not me. My watcher. She rented long-term storage and I've got a fucking arsenal just waiting for me."
"Wanted con. Weapons. Not seeing the good here."
"Look, what the hell do you want? To get out of this Land of the Free and Home of the Brave of ours I need a passport. Right now all I got is a shiny new ATM card and no ID." Faith was reaching and she knew it. "I need to find a place where I can disappear in the crowd and lay low until Angel gets the goods to me or Fred gives me the all clear."
"But Boston? Faith, someone might recognize you there and…"
"Hey, Boston's the old stomping grounds. I know it so well that I can disappear without a trace." Faith illustrated her point with a snap of her fingers.
"Fine. Your funeral." Xander crossed his arms in disgust. "And let me just add that there's one other little flaw with your not-so-master plan."
"Flaw? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"While I'm touched you've targeted me for some quality carjacking, I really don't think I'm the safest person to hang with right now."
Faith gripped the steering wheel and did her best to hold her concentration on the road. "Why?"
"I just don't." Xander's tone made it pretty clear he would not discuss it further.
"There's your argument, then. I'm a Slayer and I can kick your ass if you suddenly start acting unsafe. In exchange, you help me get to Boston." When Xander remained silent, Faith added, "It'll only be for a week, two tops. Once I get settled in my hidey-hole and figure out how to get my ass out of the country with a minimum of violence, you can take off for parts unknown and I won't stop ya. My honor as a Girl Scout."
"You were never a Girl Scout."
"Was too, oh, wait, was not. I got kicked out of the Brownies my first week because I didn't know how to use an iron." She looked at him, letting her lower lip quiver. "Please Xander, I really need your help here."
Xander closed his eye and gave a defeated sigh. "Fine. I'll help smuggle you to Boston—I still say you're better off in Mexico—and then I'm outta your hair. Deal?"
"Deal," Faith nodded.
A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Xander ventured a question. "Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you even know how to get to Boston?"
Faith bit her lip, realizing that the last time she traveled cross-country she was hoping freight trains to stay one step ahead of Kakistos. "You head away from the Pacific. Right?"