Faith dreamed.
It was all she had to do, just dream, dream, dream.
She'd been in the coma for over eight months. Almost forgotten. She was getting enough medical care to keep her alive, but that was all. She was never going to recover, never going to regain consciousness, she would just lie there until she died. Or so the doctors believed; but they didn't know about Slayers.
She was not being closely monitored. No-one had noticed that in the past week she had begun to exhibit signs of being in REM sleep. The volcano was stirring, but no-one had observed the earth tremors.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Xander fought back the urge to vomit. He heard Anya gasp, and felt her bury her head in his shoulder, hiding her face from the dreadful sight. He wanted to do the same, but couldn't tear his eyes from it. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “What the Hell could do something like that?”
“I'd guess the same something that killed that little boy,” Buffy replied. Her voice was shaky. “An equal opportunity psychopath.”
“It's a dissection,” Willow deduced. “It's taking creatures apart to see how they work.” She looked around nervously. “Really not too keen on meeting it.”
“I wouldn't mind,” Spike announced, drawing his kukri. “Definitely think a bit of decapitation is called for. I think this poor sod was alive when the bastard started taking him apart. Thing is, the victim was a Lagos demon, near as I can tell, and they're tough buggers. Whatever did this to him has got to be sodding dangerous. Best get you home, Red, Xan, Anya. Think this is a job for me and Buffy alone.”
“Too late,” Buffy warned, turning towards where some bushes were rustling, and gesturing for the normal human members of the group to move away. She pulled a stake from her jacket, and dropped into a fighting stance. Spike moved to take up a position beside her.
Two figures emerged from the bushes. Humans. Buffy and Spike relaxed slightly, but not completely. Men in combat fatigues and ski masks. Initiative soldiers.
The two men raised their eyes to where Xander's torch was still illuminating the crucified demon. “Sweet Jesus!” the taller one exclaimed. “What a mess!”
Spike recognised the voice, and sheathed his kukri. “That you, Forrest?” he asked.
“Aw, shit!” the tall Initiative agent exclaimed. He took a deep breath, and then laughed. “No, it's someone completely different who just happens to be the same height and build, and who has a similar voice. Hi, Spike. Hi, Buffy, Willow.”
“And the other bloke is someone the same height and build as Graham, right?” Spike suggested. “Where's the one the same height as Riley? Thought you were sort of the Three Musketeers, except when he goes off on his own.”
“He's in the medical facility,” Forrest told him, turning serious. “Not badly hurt, but not fit for duty for a day or two. A demon got loose, stabbed him, killed a couple of people, and is running wild. Probably did this.” He gestured at the demon corpse hanging from the tree. “We're after it now. I think you'd better stay out of the way. It's real dangerous.”
“So are we,” Buffy said confidently.
“Yeah, I got that from Ri - the guy the same height as Riley,” Forrest admitted. “But this thing is something else. Professor Walsh was experimenting on it. Made it tougher, added to it. A sort of cyborg thing. Like the Terminator. Tazers don't stop it. It took a rifle bullet, didn't seem to hurt it none.”
“Is it what killed her?” Spike asked. Rumours of Maggie Walsh being dead were circulating throughout the University, although no official announcement had been made yet.
“Yeah. No-one saw what happened to her, but the wound matches what it did to the others it attacked when it came back into the base.”
“It came back?” Buffy asked, surprised.
“Got out, came back, got out again,” Graham joined the conversation. “Professor Walsh must have given it the access codes. Don't like to speak ill of the dead, but that was real dumb. Now we're running round like chickens with our heads cut off. There's a colonel coming to take command, but till he gets here all we can do is try to find that thing and kill it. But it's going to be hard, and it's no job for amateurs.”
“Amateurs. Right.” Buffy fumed inwardly, but managed to restrain herself from showing her feelings. More or less. “We'll just go home and hide, like good little girls who didn't kick your asses all over Room 214 Stevenson last year.”
“Actually that's just what we were saying,” Xander put in, trying to smooth things over before Buffy said too much. “We should go home, because whatever did this looks a bit out of our league. That's what you said, isn't it, Spike?”
“He said we should go home,” Anya began. She would have gone on to explain that Spike had not meant it to apply to himself or Buffy, but Xander jabbed her with his elbow and she stopped there.
“Yeah, and I was just saying I really didn't want to meet this thing,” Willow backed up Xander.
“So, we'll be off, then,” Spike announced. “See you around the college, mates. Come on, love.” He didn't quite drag Buffy away.
Faith fled through dark nightmares pursued by Buffy. Again and again she relived the moment when Buffy thrust the knife into her stomach, but in new contexts each time. Then she dreamed that Buffy pursued her into a grave, and that she gripped the edge of the hole and clambered out, emerging from the darkness into the light.
And woke up.
Disorientated, panting for breath, scared. Eventually she made sense of her surroundings, struggled from the bed, pulled free of the monitor attachments and the intravenous drip, and staggered from the room.
An encounter with a hospital visitor provided her with clothes, and with information. Shattering information. It was February 25th, 2000. She had been in the coma for eight months. The High School was destroyed. Mayor Wilkins was dead.
Buffy had killed her surrogate father, and stolen eight months of her life. Faith set her jaw determinedly. Time for some payback.
“Hello, Riley,” Giles greeted, surprised. “I thought you were in the hospital.”
“I discharged myself,” Riley explained. “It's only a flesh wound. Painful, but not serious. I've got some information I think you could use.”
“You'd better come in, then,” Giles invited. “The gang's all here.”
Riley entered the apartment, greeted everybody, and then turned back to Giles. “Where's Michelle?” he asked. “I thought you said the gang was all here.”
“She's in LA,” Buffy informed him. “Really there, this time. Staying with a friend while she gets over the Incident.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Riley was obviously genuinely concerned for her, and also seemed to be disappointed that the vampire girl wasn't here.
Buffy smiled at him warmly. “She'll be fine. She just needs a little time.”
“You mentioned information,” Giles put in. “About this creature your friends mentioned, I presume?”
“That's right. Forrest and Graham told me they bumped into you guys, and they told me what they'd found. I think you need to know more about this thing.” Riley sat down next to Xander, who offered him a beer. “Better not,” he declined the offer. “I'm on antibiotics in case the wound got infected. Also, I just found out Maggie Walsh was giving us all steroids without our knowledge, and coming off them is screwing us up a bit. I'd best stay off drink, even just one beer, until I get straightened out.”
“She had you on steroids? Without telling you?” Buffy was shocked.
“That's right. Told us they were vitamin supplements that would strengthen our immune systems against possible HST infections. Well, maybe there were vitamins in the mix, but there was a lot more to it than that. Steroids; and also, according to what that Adam creature says, behaviour modification drugs.”
There was a chorus of astonished exclamations; “My word!” from Giles, “Holy shit, Batman!” from Xander, “Sneaky evil bitch!” from Anya, “That's terrible!” from Willow, “Bloody sodding Hell!” from Spike, and the classic “Huh?” from Buffy.
“Why would she do that?” Willow asked. “We knew she was working on modifying demon behaviour, but why her own people?”
“She was disappointed in us, I think. Especially after Buffy and Spike beat us. She wanted invincible supermen, but we were just human. So she decided to change us. Make us more like her ideal of the ultimate soldier.” Riley grimaced. “Now I've met the end product, Adam, and I have to say I prefer my ideal. Sergeant York, Audie Murphy, Sadao Munemori, Rodger Young, Cochise, David Stirling. She seems to have gone more for the Dolph Lundgren character from ‘Universal Soldier’. Strong, fast, cunning, ruthless, and deadly. She forgot about things like duty, loyalty, and self-sacrifice. And it killed her.”
“Which was a bit bloody stupid of her,” commented Spike. “I mean, I can see how the Three Laws of Robotics would be a bit incompatible with a super soldier, but you would have thought she'd at least have had the sodding sense to put in a ‘Don't kill Maggie Walsh’ command.”
“The Three Laws of Robotics?” Buffy queried, looking blank.
“Isaac Asimov,” Willow explained. “They go ‘A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.’ Spike, you're a closet nerd.” She gave him a teasing grin, echoed by Xander.
“A crypt nerd, maybe,” Spike admitted, grinning back. “I read all the science fiction classics back in the Golden Age. Still got a collection of original ‘Amazing Stories’ magazines, stashed away in a vault in Prague. Worth a lot, I reckon, but getting them back would be a bit of a bugger.”
“Back on topic, people,” Buffy urged, cutting off Xander as he was about to ask if Spike had any old comic books. “Yeah, I see the point of the laws, and I see how they wouldn't work for a soldier, but Spike's right about the ‘Don't kill me’ rule. Maggie Walsh wasn't stupid, how come she forgot that one?”
“I think she just took it for granted,” Riley speculated. “She looked on the creature as her child; she just assumed it would regard her as a parent. And it did, I think. Except that she did put in the ‘protect its own existence’ rule, without the no harming humans proviso. It found out that she was planning to switch it off for good once it had proved that her ideas worked, and it switched her off instead. So it told me, anyway. I think she activated it earlier than she'd intended. Maybe she was going to put some other rules in later, but didn't get the chance. The reason why she was early is what makes me think you need to know about it right now.”
“To kill us. We dealt with everything else she threw at us, so she put her special project onto the job.” Buffy spoke with absolute certainty.
“You got it,” Riley confirmed. “And this thing is bad. I mean, really bad. You, and Spike, are strong. Spiderman strong, right?”
“Pretty much. Only without the sticking to walls bit,” Buffy agreed.
“Well, Adam is stronger. Maybe not Incredible Hulk strong, but getting there. It hit me and knocked me twenty feet through the air.”
“I could do that,” Buffy claimed.
“Maybe, but Adam did it while giving a speech and without even missing a beat,” Riley pointed out. “Also, it didn't seem at all bothered by being shot and tazered.”
“Yeah, it's got the edge over me there,” Buffy conceded. “Maybe not over Spike.”
“I've got a weakness, pet,” Spike reminded her. “Bet this thing has as well. The trick will be finding out what it is.” He looked questioningly at Riley, who shook his head.
“No idea,” the Initiative agent responded. “Dr. Angleman, he was Maggie Walsh's assistant, probably would have known, but Adam killed him. And destroyed all the computer records of Project 314, and set the paper records on fire. That's what it came back into the base for, I reckon. Oh, it did some talking to us while it was there, in between stabbing people and wrecking things, but only enough to scare the shit out of us. Not enough to give away anything useful.”
“I had hopes, when you mentioned it talking to you. So it didn't do the whole Bond villain thing and give away its whole evil plan, then. Bugger.” Spike fiddled with his cigarette packet, but restrained himself from lighting up.
“So, what's this thing like, then?” Xander asked. “Your two pals said it was like the Terminator.”
“That's as good a description as any,” Riley confirmed. “Or maybe like the Terminator crossed with Frankenstein.”
“Frankenstein's monster,” Willow corrected him pedantically. “Frankenstein was the scientist.”
“Let him talk, please, Willow,” Giles scolded her gently, smiling to take any sting out of his reproof.
“Anyway,” Riley went on. “Human shape, human features, pleasant deep voice. Probably a good-looking guy while he was alive; a bit taller than me, built like a linebacker, dark hair. Unusual skin colour. Green, or mainly green. Lines of stitches all over, looks like he was put together like a jigsaw puzzle out of bits. Metal plates here and there, slots for computer discs right in his chest. Built in weaponry. I only saw the spike that slides out of its wrist, the one it stabbed me with, but it wouldn't surprise me if it had something with a bit of range.”
“Sounds great, not. So Buffy, Willow, Spike, and Giles are on the hit list for something built to be the ultimate warrior.” Xander sighed. “Why couldn't she have designed it to be the ultimate comedian, or the ultimate pastry cook?”
“Death by chocolate,” Willow chuckled. “Much better than being stabbed with spiky poky things.” She caught Anya's expression, and blushed. “Unless that's what floats your boat.”
“I gather it confessed to having ...” Giles began, and then stopped short as Buffy's cell phone began ringing.
“Hi, Buffy here,” Buffy answered the phone brightly. She was expecting it to be either her mother or Harmony, the only two people she'd given the number who weren't already in Giles' apartment, but it was neither. “Oh, hi, Amber,” she replied, when the caller had identified herself. “Did Mom give you my number? What's up? We've hardly seen each other since Graduation.”
The others fell silent, not sure how much of their conversation would be audible to the caller, and listened to Buffy's side of the phone call with growing concern as they watched the expression on Buffy's face grow worried. Eventually Buffy rang off, with thanks and promises to meet up with Amber socially soon, and turned to the others.
“That was Amber,” she said unnecessarily. “She was in our class in High School,” she explained for the benefit of Spike and Riley. “She's training as a nurse now. She's got news from the hospital. Faith woke up today. Beat someone up, took her clothes, and walked out.”
“I'd say that qualifies for the ‘Worst Timing Ever’ award,” Xander groaned.
“What do we do?” Willow asked, alarmed.
“Well, we have to find her,” Giles declared.
“Who's Faith?” Spike and Riley asked in unison.
Buffy looked surprised. “Oh, yeah, you weren't here then,” she said to Spike. “Except that one day. Haven't we ever mentioned her? The other Slayer.”
“Oh, yeah,” Spike muttered. “The one who was Called after Kendra.” He looked down at the floor, avoiding everyone's eyes.
“The other Slayer?” Riley asked. “I thought there could only be one.”
“Yeah, well, I kinda drowned,” Buffy explained. “I was dead for like a minute, then Xander gave me CPR. Me being dead triggered Kendra, and when she - died - we got Faith.” She recognised Spike's unhappiness, and squeezed his shoulder gently. “Faith went bad,” she went on. “She killed people. Joined the Mayor, tried to kill us. I put her in a coma just before the big High School battle. Now she's woken up, and I'm guessing she won't be coming over here with flowers and chocolates.”
Faith was crouching outside the window, listening to every word. ‘Damn right, B,’ she thought to herself. ‘But I'm gonna give you something, for sure.’
“What about Adam?” Willow asked.
“Yeah, I'd hate to see the pursuing of a homicidal lunatic get in the way of pursuing a homicidal lunatic,” Xander added.
“Well, Faith's not exactly low-profile girl. I'll patrol, and wait for her to make a move,” Buffy suggested.
“But then what?” Giles asked, removing his glasses and beginning to clean the lenses.
“Ooh! I have an idea,” Willow volunteered. “Beat the crap out of her.”
“Good plan,” Xander chimed in. “I mean, you and her, Buff, pretty even match, but we've got the Slayer of Slayers on our team now. She doesn't stand a chance.” He grinned at Spike, but then saw the look on his face and the grin vanished.
“No. Never again.” Spike looked anguished. “Not going there. There'll never be a third. I can't do it.”
“Hey, sorry, pal.” Xander didn't understand how Spike could be feeling remorse without a soul, but the emotion was obvious and he mentally kicked himself. “I didn't mean kill her. Just that you could knock her out, then we hand her over to the cops.”
“Maybe,” Spike conceded, still looking miserable. “If I had to, to save Buffy or one of you lot. But I don't ever want to hurt a Slayer again.”
‘William the Bloody’, Faith deduced. ‘What the fuck is the deal with this vamp? Got a soul like Angel? B's acting like he's her current squeeze. Guess she's moved on to vampires new, after she stuck a knife in my gut for the old one. Maybe she didn't manage to save Angel from the Killer of the Dead after all.’ She drew back from the window, suddenly nervous. One of the most notorious and deadly vampires of all time was just on the other side of the glass. A Master, with powers way beyond those of a fledgling. Heightened senses. It was risky enough eavesdropping with Buffy there. Spike's presence made the risk just too great to be worthwhile, whatever moral qualms he might be showing about killing or injuring her. She backed away stealthily and faded into the night.
The rest of the discussion went unheard by the rogue Slayer. The group considered handing Faith over to the police, or to the Watchers' Council, but eventually came down on the side of compassion. They would give Faith a chance. How they dealt with her would depend on Faith's intentions. If she decided to give herself up to the police, to flee the State, or to throw herself on the doubtful mercies of the Watchers' Council, they would give her whatever help and support she needed. Only if she came after them would they react violently.
Things might have gone very differently if Faith had heard their decision, especially as Buffy and Spike were the ones most inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was, unfortunately, long gone by that time, and remained dead set on revenge. When she encountered Buffy and Willow on campus the following day the confrontation turned ugly. Faith contemptuously rejected Buffy's attempt to make peace, convinced it was a trick, and taunted her about her ‘great love’ for Angel not being so great after all. Buffy lost her temper, and a brief and inconclusive fight resulted, interrupted by the arrival of the police. Faith fled, shook off Buffy's pursuit, and escaped.
“Spike,” Giles said in an unusually hesitant tone, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Spike grinned at the Watcher. “When have I ever minded you asking me questions, Rupes? It's what you do, innit?”
“A rather personal one,” Giles elaborated.
“Nah, go right ahead,” Spike replied casually. They were walking through the streets of Sunnydale, keeping their eyes open for signs of Faith. The vampire was fiddling with a cigarette, but hadn't lit it.
“I couldn't help noticing that you seemed rather upset at the idea of attacking Faith. May I ask why?”
Spike stopped dead in his tracks, and tensed up. “Bleeding right it's personal,” he replied, almost angrily. He pulled out his lighter and lit up, took a deep drag on the cigarette, and then relaxed. “Guess you've got the right to know, I suppose.” His voice softened. “Look, Rupes, this is fucking hard for me sometimes. This good thing. I dunno what the soul does, got to guess ‘cos I ain't got one, but I reckon it helps you to know the good and evil thing. I have to make it up as I go along, go by what I remember from when I was human, and from what I've read in books. And I'm scared of fucking up, y'know. Sometimes it feels like I'm walking a sodding tightrope, and if I fall off I won't be able to get back on. And killing a Slayer - I think that would knock me off the tightrope for sure. See, being the Slayer of Slayers is what made me the Big Bad. Sort of defined what I was. It's not what I am.” He took another long drag on his cigarette, and threw it into the road. “Don't want to be that any more,” he concluded quietly. He resumed his walk along the street.
“You're wrong about the soul, Spike.” Giles walked beside the vampire, glancing around occasionally for Faith, but most of his attention concentrated on the conversation. “It doesn't really tell us the difference between good and evil. We have to do the same as you. Take it one step at a time; make it up as we go along. Maybe the soul helps, like a balancing pole for the tightrope walker, but plenty of humans still fall off that tightrope. You are doing as good a job of walking it as any human I've ever known, even without the pole, or soul. You can feel proud of your achievements. But you're wrong about something else. It is possible to get back on the tightrope. I did.”
“Yeah, but I'd still rather not fall off in the first place,” Spike replied. “Not sure what would act as a safety net.”
“You continue to surprise and impress me, Spike,” Giles said. “There have been times when I have wondered whether your conversion to the side of good was the result of some intervention by a higher power, but I see that it is indeed all your own doing.”
“Bloody hope so,” Spike muttered. “Don't like to think of some sodding heavenly being messing with my head. Bad enough when Red did it, even if it did turn out sort of all right in the end. I want it to be free will, not bleeding cherubs doing to me what Maggie Walsh did to Harm.” He shuddered, suddenly feeling as if someone was walking over his grave. “Think I've had enough of this. Don't think we're going to find her tonight. Could do with a beer. If it's okay with you, Watcher, I think I'll see if Xander fancies a game of pool. The Bronze is as likely a place as any other to bump into that Faith bint, anyway.”
“Of course, Spike. Remember, if you ever need help on the tightrope, if you need to talk things over, I'm always available.”
“Thanks. You're a good mate, Rupes. Cheerio.” The vampire walked off, leaving Giles staring after him thoughtfully.
Faith watched the final moments of the video with tears in her eyes. Her last sight of the man who had been a father figure to her. Killed by Buffy and her Scooby Gang. She raised her hand to the screen and touched it gently, and then turned her attention to the bequest he had left her. A gleaming metal device, small enough to fit into her palm, with three rings attached which would slip onto her fingers. Mayor Wilkins had explained its purpose in the video, and a smile came to Faith's lips. It was not a nice smile at all.
Giles arrived home to find three men waiting inside for him. English men, wearing leather jackets. Two had made themselves cups of tea, the other had found the Watcher's stock of brandy. “Hello, Rupert,” one greeted him, and lit a cigarette.
“Hello, Collins,” Giles replied coldly. “Do come in. Oh, you have. Do help yourself to a cup of tea. Oh, you have. Help yourself to a drink. Oh, you have. Feel free to smoke. Oh, you are. Anything else you'd like to help yourselves to?”
“Now, now, Rupert,” Collins chided him. “Is that any way to welcome an old comrade?” He sipped at his tea. “I'm sure you know perfectly well why we're here. For Faith.”
“So, what are you doing the rest of the weekend, Spike?” Xander asked, as they waited for a turn on the pool table. “Apart from looking for Faith, and Adam, that is.”
“Marking papers as usual,” Spike grinned. “Not all work and no play, though. I'm going to be spending some time tomorrow afternoon watching ice skating on the telly with Buffy and Joyce.”
“Pretty whipped, huh? Getting dragged into the chick stuff? Just like me with Anya.” Xander gave Spike a sympathetic smile, but the vampire laughed.
“Nah. Not like that at all. I love it. Pretty girls in short skirts, twirling, lifting their legs over their heads, wiggling their bums, and I can drool all I like and Buffy doesn't mind.”
“There's hot chicks? Nobody told me skating had hot chicks.” Xander's interest was firmly caught.
“Hell, yeah. Irina Slutskaya and Marina Butyrskaya are hotter than hell.”
“Slutskaya? Buttskaya? You're making those names up.”
“Butyrskaya. No, they're real. Think those names are funny? There used to be a Russian hurdler called Stepinova.” Once Xander had stopped chuckling, Spike went on. “Fancy coming over? I'm sure the girls won't mind. Not as if I'd be doing any snogging in front of Joyce, so you wouldn't be gooseberry.”
“Yeah, maybe. I'll bring Anya, if that's okay. And a few beers. Make it like a football Sunday.”
“What you Yanks play isn't football, whelp,” Spike pointed out. Xander shot back a retort about soccer in mock anger, and they bickered amicably for a while, until their turn at the pool table came up and they could begin a game.
Joyce opened the door and was met by a punch to the face. She fell to the ground, dazed, and Faith stepped into the house. “Hi, Joyce,” she addressed the fallen woman. “Mind if I come in?” She picked Joyce up and carried her upstairs, ignoring the older woman's attempts to resist, and dumped her onto her bed. “Sit still or I'll whack you again,” she ordered, and Joyce reluctantly obeyed. Faith amused herself by rummaging through Mrs. Summers' makeup drawer, while her victim glared at the rogue Slayer.
“Hey, ‘Harlot’,” Faith commented, holding up a dark red lipstick. “Way to go, Joyce. Now, normally I wouldn't be going with a colour this dark, but I read in some magazine eight months in a coma will damage a girl's natural skin tone.” She ran the lipstick over her lips, and studied herself in the mirror, keeping one eye on Buffy's mother. “Good thing pale is in this year. Or was it last year?” She kissed the mirror, and stepped back to look at her lip print. “Now, tell me something, Joyce, for real now, no holding back just to spare my feelings ‘cause I can kill you. How do I look?”
“Psychotic,” Joyce snapped angrily, catching sight in the mirror of the bruise which was forming on her cheek just below her eye.
“Well, I was shooting for sultry, but hey,” Faith grinned, amused rather than angered by the reply. “Bet I know what you're thinking.”
Joyce raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“You're thinking ‘You'll never get away with this!’ Warm?”
“Actually, I was thinking that either my daughter will kill you soon, or Spike will,” Joyce told her.
“That a fact?”
“More like a bet. When they see this bruise, you're in big trouble,” Joyce announced confidently.
“Whoa! You got a pair on you, Joyce. I like seeing that in a woman your age.” Faith moved closer, and sneered at the older woman. “Guess you can afford to talk that way. I mean, in the world according to Joyce, Buffy and her vampire boyfriend are gonna come crashing through that door any minute. But I know how things really work. She's got a new boy toy, she's gonna be too busy to give a thought to her dear old mom. Crazy chick like me on the loose, with a wicked grudge against her, you'd think she'd have remembered to call and give you a heads up. But no. And you gotta be out of your head if you think William the fucking Bloody gives a shit what happens to you.”
Joyce couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing, startling the Slayer. “You don't know the first thing about Buffy. Or me. And you don't even know that much about Spike.” Her anger towards Faith began to cool, and she spoke more gently. “Hitting me wasn't smart. But I think I can talk Spike out of cutting your head off and sticking it on a pole. If you let me go now, that is.”
“What the fuck?” Faith exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “You think he's your friend? You and Angel could barely stand each other. What's the diff with Spike? He's a vampire, end of story. One day he'll eat you. Except that he's dead meat. Slayer here, remember? Your girl's not the only Chosen One. Slaying vampires is what I do best.”
A sound behind her made her spin round, but too slowly. Buffy came through the bedroom door in a rush and kicked Faith in the stomach, followed up the kick with an elbow strike to the face, and knocked the other Slayer to the floor. “No, Faith, losing's what you do best. Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey,” Joyce greeted her daughter. “I see you can still open your bedroom window from outside.”
“Sure thing,” Buffy smiled as Faith regained her feet and lashed out with a back fist strike. Buffy caught the arm and threw Faith out through the bedroom door, and then followed the other girl onto the landing. “Give it up, Faith,” Buffy advised, blocking the frantic kick Faith unleashed at her. “You can't win.”
“Think you can take me, huh?” Faith panted, and grabbed Buffy by the throat. The blonde Slayer brought her right arm across over Faith's arms, slashing her extended fingers into the dark girl's face in the process, seized Faith's right hand, and twisted. Faith was jerked forward, into a head butt from Buffy which split open Faith's cheek. A desperate knee strike was halted by a palm heel block with Buffy's free left hand, and then Buffy twisted harder with her right hand and sent Faith cartwheeling along the landing into the stairwell.
“Give it up, Faith,” Buffy advised once more, slowly advancing. “I could have broken your wrist with that one. You don't stand a chance.”
Faith half slid, half fell, down the stairs. Fear was beginning to overwhelm her. She was outclassed, and was beginning to realise it. ‘What the fuck?’ she thought. ‘How did B get so damn good?’ It wasn't that the effects of eight months in a coma had weakened Faith. Slayer healing had overcome the muscle wastage within hours, and she was as strong as she ever was. They had been evenly matched in almost every way before, and Faith had always been confident that her extra reach and her dirty fighting skills would give her the edge. This wasn't true any longer. Buffy was vastly more skilled than in the past, thanks to regular practice with the Slayer of Slayers, and she was handling Faith like a toy. Only one thing could save her, and Faith clawed the little metal device from her pocket in frantic haste and slipped it onto her fingers.
Upstairs, Joyce had picked up the phone extension and was dialling. She began to dial Spike's cell phone, then reconsidered and dialled 911 instead. No need to get Spike involved when Buffy was obviously more than capable of coping by herself.
Buffy walked calmly down the stairs to where Faith was climbing to her feet, kicked the other girl behind the knee, and knocked her down again with a palm heel strike to the head. Faith tried to tackle Buffy, who sidestepped and knocked Faith down yet again. The dark-haired girl was beginning to feel sick and dizzy, and knew defeat was only moments away. She rolled away as fast as she could, and managed to stand up. Buffy let loose a combination of punches and elbow strikes, hitting Faith three times, and then Faith caught her fist with the hand that bore Mayor Wilkins' gift. A glow emanated from the device as it activated, and both girls froze in place.
Buffy reeled, disorientated. Suddenly she felt sick, and dizzy, and pain seared through her face, wrist, and knee. She looked for Faith, and saw herself. There shouldn't have been any mirror in front of her, and she blinked in confusion. A fist smashed into her jaw, and she fell limp and unconscious to the ground.
Joyce came halfway down the stairs, cautiously, and looked into the living room. She saw her daughter standing untouched over the limp body of the other Slayer, and gave a sigh of relief. “You okay, honey?” she asked.
“All things considered,” Buffy replied, bending down and removing something from Faith's hand.
“What's that?” Joyce asked.
“Weapon of some kind,” Buffy replied, throwing the device to the floor and stamping on it, shattering the gleaming metal object. “Didn't work, whatever it was.”
“The police will be here any minute,” Joyce informed her daughter.
“She's their problem now.” Buffy stepped away from the unconscious girl and looked around the room, breathing deeply.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Joyce asked.
“Yeah, I'm okay. Five by five. How about you?” Faith looked out through Buffy's eyes and gloated inwardly. ‘Hot damn, it worked. Freedom here I come. Not so cool for you, B. Enjoy yourself working on the chain gang all the livelong day. You stole eight months of my life, now I'm stealing the whole rest of yours. Payback's a bitch, ain't it so?’