‘So B really is a natural blonde. Who'd a thought?’ Faith chuckled to herself as she stood in the bathroom examining Buffy's naked body, now hers. ‘Down a cup size, worse luck, but still not too bad. Gotta take this out for a test drive. Let's get laid.’ She lowered herself into the bath and relaxed in the hot water. ‘Check out that hot vampire. They say vamps can go for hours. No fresh bites on this neck, so he must be safe, pussy whipped, not gonna drain my blood. I'll dust him when I'm done. Then I'll blow this town. Chances are they'll think B and her vamp toy skipped out together.’
Faith had considered staying in Sunnydale and living Buffy's life, but had quickly dropped the idea. She had had a near miss already from giving herself away to Joyce, bluffing her way through the conversation when Joyce brought up the arrangement for watching skating on TV the next afternoon, and knew she couldn't keep the impersonation up for long.
Buffy hadn't taken all her clothes to her University dorm by any means, and there was a wide choice left at home. Faith searched through them after her bath, found a halter top and a pair of leather trousers which she deemed suitably sexy, and then acquired Mrs. Summers' credit card and grabbed the phone.
“Sheesh, two lousy flights a week to Mexico and it calls itself an International airport,” Faith muttered, slipping the card back into Joyce's purse, but keeping a wad of cash. She had booked herself a flight to San Francisco for the following morning, that being the furthest away destination available on a Sunday, and once there would think about leaving California altogether. The mayor's gift box had contained five thousand dollars in cash as well as the video and the body-swapping gizmo. She would pick that up before leaving Sunnydale; along with Buffy's passport and driver's permit, if she could find them, and indeed if Buffy even had such things. Her escape would be comfortable, no need to go short of anything, and she decided she could have a little fun before she left.
“Buffy!” Joyce called, approaching, and Faith hastily stuffed the cash into a pocket and put the purse back where she had found it. “Were you on the phone just now?” Joyce asked as she entered the room. She sounded puzzled, and Faith wondered what she had done that didn't fit in with Buffy's normal behaviour.
“Yeah, Mom,” Faith admitted, and groped for an innocuous explanation. “I was calling Giles, but his line was busy.”
Joyce's puzzled expression cleared. “Of course it was. He was ringing you on your cell phone.” Faith realised that she had struck lucky. “I told him about our little adventure,” Buffy's mother went on, “and he was very relieved to hear it. He wants you to go over to his place as soon as possible.”
“No time like the present,” Faith declared, seizing the opportunity to escape from this nerve-wracking situation. “I'll head right on over. Bye, Mom.” She scampered down the stairs, trying to move like an excited Buffy, and snatched up Buffy's jacket. She saw the cell phone on the couch and picked it up, stuffing it into a pocket. ‘Might come in useful,' she thought, ‘or maybe I can sell it. Hell, I don't even know how to use a cell phone.' “See you tomorrow,” she called to Mrs. Summers, who was descending the stairs looking puzzled again. ‘What have I done wrong now?' Faith thought.
“You left your pearl in the bathroom,” Joyce reminded her, holding out a slim gold chain with a single pearl as a pendant. “You must be in a hurry to get to Giles'. Spike would be mortified if he saw you without it.”
“Oops! Well, it's been a busy night,” Faith covered, taking the chain. Luckily the clasp was a familiar type, and she was able to don the pendant without fumbling. “Mustn't mortify Spike.” She had no idea what ‘mortify' meant, and hoped she was using the word in a way that made sense. Again she was lucky.
“I suppose he's been mortified enough already,” Joyce chuckled. “I must remember that one, he'll appreciate it.” Apparently Faith had made some sort of unintentional pun, or given Joyce the opportunity to make one. “I'll see you tomorrow, then, dear.”
“For the skating,” Faith agreed, and escaped. ‘Wooh!' she breathed, once safely away from the house. ‘Stressful. Skating, cell phones, pearls. Not a fucking clue about any of them, and I made it through. Way to go, girl.” She fingered the pendant. “So, what's the deal about William the Bloody giving B a pearl necklace? No Angel crucifix any more, this instead. And Joyce approves. Crazy woman. Still, not my problem. Tonight, then I blow. Guess I might as well hit the Scooby meeting. Got to look for B's ID, and I don't even know the way to her dorm room. It's follow Willow or look like a total idiot reading the visitor maps round my own College. Sooner I'm outa Sunny D the better.'
The real Buffy was slumped in the back of a police car, handcuffed, and only half conscious after her first escape attempt had resulted in her being injected with sedatives. A plain clothes detective sat alongside the driver, watching her, and idly talking about the dangerous prisoner. Suddenly an armoured truck shot out of a side street and rammed the vehicle, bringing it to an abrupt stop. The policemen were thrown about by the impact, smashed into the dashboard and steering wheel, and stunned. Two men in leather jackets leaped from the truck, ran to the police car, and smashed the side windows with an axe and the muzzle of an automatic pistol. One was Collins. He seized the semi-conscious Slayer and dragged her from the car.
“By order of the Watchers' Council,” the other one announced to their captive, “you are being taken into custody until such time ...”
“Skip the speech, Weatherby, and give me a hand here,” Collins demanded peevishly. Weatherby grabbed Buffy's arms, and the two men carried her to the waiting truck.
“Ah, Buffy,” Giles greeted Faith as she entered his apartment. “Good.”
“See the Scooby Gang's all here,” Faith commented, looking around and seeing Willow, Xander, and a girl she didn't know but whom she'd spotted during her spying expedition the previous night. No Spike, and she belatedly realised it would be suspicious to regard the gang as complete without him. “Except Spike.” Even as she spoke she remembered the other man who had been here, the tall one, and had to hope that he wasn't someone she would be expected to miss. ‘Quick, what was his name?' she asked herself silently. ‘Riley? Should I know his first name, whatever that is?'
Yet again luck was with her. Her mention of Spike obviously completed the present day Scooby Gang roster. “I asked Spike not to come,” Giles explained. “We have a Watchers' Council problem and I thought it best for him not to come to their attention. I explained the situation to him on the phone, and he agreed he should stay away.”
“And you couldn't have explained it to the rest of us on the phone too?” Anya queried, annoyed at having been called over. After packing Xander off to the Bronze with Spike she had prepared a dinner for two, some romantic candles, and a bottle of wine, and then settled down to a long bath and some careful selection of lingerie. She had plans for Xander's return that did not involve anyone else.
“I'm sorry, Anya,” Giles apologised. “I summoned you before I heard Joyce's news, and the urgency was much greater at that time.”
“Joyce's news?” Xander queried, looking at Faith.
“Faith ain't a problem any more,” the Slayer announced. “I totally kicked that ass.”
“Great! I feel a high five coming on,” Xander grinned.
“Where is she now?” asked Willow.
“On her way to the Big House,” Faith replied. “Cops took her off my hands about an hour ago. Poetic justice.”
“How's that?” Anya frowned.
“Well, she did all those crimes, and now she's been arrested.” Faith realised that her answer made no sense to anyone but her, and corrected herself. “Guess that's just regular justice. It's cool, anyway.” The correction seemed to work. Buffy saying nonsensical things was hardly an unknown experience to the others.
“Unfortunately, unless I'm very much mistaken, Faith is unlikely to remain in police custody for very long,” Giles warned them.
“What are you talking about?” Faith demanded, alarmed. The last thing she wanted was the real Buffy arriving and exposing her deception. The police would never believe in the switch, but it was unlikely to be too incredible for this bunch to find plausible.
“The Watchers' Council, as I mentioned earlier. They sent a retrieval team to apprehend Faith.”
“Well, yeah. ‘Cause that worked so well when Wesley tried it, ” Faith said scornfully, relaxing and leaning casually on Giles' desk.
“This is different. It's a special operations unit. They handle the Council's more unconventional tasks. Smuggling, interrogation, and, uh, wet work.”
“What's wet work?” Willow asked.
“Scuba type stuff,” Xander answered confidently.
“I thought it was murder.” Anya frowned at her boyfriend.
“Well, yeah,” Xander admitted, embarrassed. “But there could be underwater murder, with snorkels.”
“That's Combat Swimming,” Anya informed him. “I read about it in Readers' Digest. The Italians are the best at it, apparently, and the Norwegians are very good too.”
“Hey, I bet the good old US Navy Seals are right up there as well,” Xander suggested, in a sudden burst of patriotic fervour.
Faith ignored the digression. “So, they're going to snatch her and take her to England, you think?”
“I'm sure of it. Sunnydale's excuse for a police department is unlikely to be able to prevent them,” Giles said glumly. “She is likely to be away for a very long time, and I must confess I feel somewhat sorry for her.”
“Well, I don't,” Willow snapped. “I hope they throw the book at her. Or other things.”
“I forgot how much you don't like Faith,” the rogue Slayer mused, looking at the redhead's stomach and fantasising about thrusting her knife into it.
“After what she's done to you? I just wish those Council guys would let me have an hour alone in a room with her. That is, if I was a lot larger, and had grenades.” Willow sighed. “Although, maybe Spike's right. She should have had a chance to make the right decision for herself. Too late now, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Xander agreed. “Pretty much all over, right? Cops have Faith, Watchers' Council might take her off them and whisk her off to England, not much we can do about that. Spike stays out of Snorkel Guys' way, we keep our eyes peeled for Adam, situation back to what passes for normal round here. Can we go now?”
“I suppose so,” Giles conceded. “By all means, go.”
“We kind of have a romantic end planned for the evening,” Xander informed everyone, hugging Anya.
“With a meal by candlelight, and wine by candlelight, and a few other things by candlelight,” Anya explained further.
Xander had begun to cringe inwardly as she started to speak, expecting her to go into excessive detail about their sex life as she often did, but relaxed again as she completed her statement innocuously. The thought struck him that Anya had lost some of her embarrassing frankness while living with Harmony. Odd, perhaps, as Harmony was eminently capable of loading conversations with sexual innuendo, but true nonetheless. Perhaps a close female friend had been something the former demon had needed to help her adjust to her regained humanity. His happy thoughts were interrupted by a jarring comment from ‘Buffy'.
“Well, we certainly don't want to cut into that seven minutes.” Faith gave the couple a knowing look.
“Hey!” Anya protested, looking hurt.
“I believe that's my ‘Hey'.” Xander scowled at the girl he believed to be Buffy. “Hey!”
“Lighten up. Joke. We're out of danger. Everything's good.” Faith began to head for the door.
“We still have Adam to take care of,” Giles reminded her.
Faith was baffled for a moment, then remembered what she had overheard when listening to the last Scooby meeting. “So, Adam, yeah. Any word on what the Jolly Green Giant's up to?”
“Nice one, Buffy,” Willow grinned, liking the description.
“I wish we knew,” Giles said gloomily.
“Don't worry about it. I'll patrol tonight. As long as it takes. You guys have your candle time,” Faith nodded at Xander and Anya, “and I'll be out there doing my job. Both eyes open for the Green Machine.”
Adam was well away from the Scoobies' usual patrol routes; down in the network of interconnected sewers, tunnels, and caves which Mayor Wilkins had ensured would provide a demon highway system throughout the Sunnydale area. He was engaged in taking over the leadership of a vampire gang, and converting them to his cause. Faith wouldn't have found him even if he had been in a more accessible location, as she didn't even make a token effort at patrolling, but instead headed straight for the Bronze.
She hadn't realised that she would find Spike there, and she tensed up when she saw him at the pool table, cigarette hanging from his lips, being handed a five dollar bill by a rueful defeated opponent. Speculating in the bath about his sexual prowess had been one thing, putting the plan into action was another, and she felt nervous for a moment. He was dangerous, she knew, and all too familiar with the real Buffy. ‘What the fuck, he's just a vamp,' she reminded herself, and moved forward.
“Buffy!” he greeted her with a smile, laying down his pool cue and moving away from the table. “I didn't expect to see you in here tonight. Everything okay now?”
“Yeah,” Faith gave him a shaky grin. “Kicked Faith's ass, saved the day, all done. Party time.” She pulled herself together. “Could use a drink.”
“Say no more.” Spike stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette, looking slightly embarrassed, and Faith guessed that he didn't usually smoke in his girl-friend's presence. The vampire hastened to the bar, and returned with a Diet Coke.
Faith groaned inwardly, but hid her disappointment. ‘Stuck up tight ass bitch with no sense of fun,” she cursed the rightful owner of the body she was inhabiting. “Actually, tonight I think I could sorta use a beer,” she risked, hoping this would not be too out of character for the blonde. Apparently not; the vampire swapped drinks with her with little surprise, passing her his bottle of Coors and taking a swig from the Coke himself.
Spike had already drunk from the beer bottle, and Faith looked at it dubiously for a moment. ‘Yeuch, vampire spit,' she thought, but then she reminded herself that she had a more intimate exchange of bodily fluids in mind and she raised the bottle and drank. It obviously wouldn't have bothered Buffy.
“So, what've you got in mind for tonight then, pet?” Spike asked. “Want to dance?”
Faith decided she couldn't be bothered with the preliminaries. “It's been a tough day. Just take me to bed.”
Spike arched an eyebrow at her. “Getting impatient, pet? Not till summer. Can't say I'm not tempted, but I'm not going to fall.” He shot her a sudden dazzling smile. “Although maybe I might be persuaded to bring it forward to Spring Break.”
‘What the fuck?' Faith thought. ‘B's the one pushing for sex, Spike's the one making her wait? Can't be a soul curse with a clause like Angel's if he's gonna let her give him a happy in the summer. Who'd a thought B would be the easy one, and what's the deal with this stupid vamp? Who is really, really, hot, and I want him now.' “Hey, c'mon,” she said aloud. “You know you want it. I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.”
Spike swallowed hard. “You never fail to impress me, love. Got me back for the ‘delicate pearl' speech there, good and proper.” He leaned forward and, to Faith's astonishment, kissed her gently on the forehead. “It'll be a long time till summer, but I'll wait. You're more than worth waiting for, and I want to prove beyond any doubt that I can be a man in every way.”
For a second Faith was touched by the sweetness of his kiss, but then she remembered that it wasn't meant for her, and anger began to flare in her at his rejection of her offer. Who did this vamp think he was, anyway? He thought he was better than her? “You're not a man,” she snapped. “You're a vampire, and if you think you can ever be anything else you're just fooling yourself.” She saw pain flare in his eyes, and gloried in it. That'd teach him to make her feel fear. That'd pay him back for making her feel warm and loved, just for one moment; until she had remembered that it was somebody else who was the intended recipient of the tender kiss. She moved in for the kill, striking with words instead of a stake.
“As if I'd keep up this game till summer. I've only been going along with it because, hey, you're a hottie, even if you are dead. But, hey, getting tired of it. If you're not going to scratch my itch you can fuck off. Undead, evil, monster, hanging with my Mom to suck up to me, playing at being Angel. Playing at being a man, but you ain't ever going to be the real thing. Go to Hell where you belong.”
She turned away and began to walk off, but Spike caught her arm before she had taken two strides, and pulled her round to face him. Anger was apparent on his face, but he choked it down before he spoke. “Buffy, whatever I've done to upset you, I'm sorry,” he told her. “I know you must be on edge ‘cos of this Faith thing. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Like Hell,” Faith snapped. “You stay away from my Mom. If I ever see you near her again it's stake time. You're just a dead thing. A monster. Deal with it. Stay away from the real people. Go back to the graveyard where you belong. God, what was I thinking, hanging out with a thing like you?” She saw that every word was hitting Spike like a punch, and revelled in it. “You had your shot at me, but you blew it. Not that I would have given you more than the one ride, but it coulda been fun. Too late now. Guess I'll go tell the Scoobs that they don't need keep pretending to be your friends any more.”
“They are my friends!” Spike protested, but he sounded hesitant, uncertain.
Faith laughed at him. “As if. They've all been laughing at you behind your back. Creature of the night, pretending to be a man, doing a piss poor job of it. Shoulda heard Xander and Willow.” She saw the yellow flare deep within the vampire's eyes, and mentally punched the air. The Slayer of Slayers was pissed at the Scoobies, really pissed, and throats being ripped out loomed large in her enemies' futures.
Spike reeled, then his eyes focused on the pendant at ‘Buffy's' throat, and he gained some strength from the sight. “You're just upset, Buffy. I know you feel like I do. Let yourself feel ...” His voice died away and he looked suddenly afraid and ill.
Faith seized the opening and delivered the finishing blow. She tore the pendant from her neck, snapping the chain, and threw it at him. “Take back your stupid pearl, freak,” she sneered. “Wearing it makes me sick. God, it's gonna be great not having to pretend to like you any more.”
Spike caught the chain, letting his Coke fall unheeded to the floor, and clutched it in both hands, staring at the pearl. Tears were welling up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to hold them back. He turned and staggered away.
A football player from the College was in his path. The boy's girlfriend was studying languages, and had annoyed him by enthusing over ‘the hot English TA'. The young man took the opportunity to get in a verbal jab at the man she admired. “Crying at being dumped, huh?” he began. “Girly tears from the English guy.” Spike hit him in the stomach without even breaking step, and the two hundred and forty pound Offensive Tackle for UC Sunnydale doubled up, ashen faced, and collapsed to the ground vomiting beer. The bouncers stepped aside as Spike approached the door, not feeling like objecting to his actions after what they had just seen, and the vampire left the Bronze and stormed off into the night.
“I can't believe you've never been here,” Willow remarked, leading Tara through the Bronze towards the pool table, where she was expecting to find Spike. “The Bronze is the coolest place in Sunnydale. ‘Course, there's not a lot of competition. I think the vending machine at Bergen's came in second.”
“You used to come here a lot, then?” asked Tara, smiling, and looking around for her good friend Spike. She was long past her initial nervousness in the vampire's presence, even though she was now fully aware of his nature and history.
“We practically lived here. Me, Xander, and - Buffy?” Willow stared in astonishment at the edge of the dance floor, where she had just spotted Buffy. Ringed by attentive young men, and seemingly playing some sort of drinking game with them involving large quantities of beer. “I didn't think she'd be here,” the redhead frowned. “Funny, no sign of Spike. And Buffy and beer, not really mixy things. Still, I've been wanting to introduce you. Come on.”
Tara nervously followed her girlfriend towards the Slayer, about whom she had heard so much. She was apprehensive about meeting Buffy Summers, and hoped Spike turned up soon to give her moral support.
“Hey, Buffy,” Willow greeted her friend.
Faith had abandoned the men she had been playing with. None of them seemed a remotely satisfactory prospect to replace the vampire who had rejected her advances. “Hey, Willow,” she replied, and then saw the honey blonde girl who was accompanying the redhead. Was this someone she should know? “And, uh ...”
“Buffy, this is Tara,” Willow introduced. Tara said “Hi” with her head lowered bashfully. “Tara was in my Wicca group,” Willow went on.
“Uh huh,” Faith grunted, not interested. This was not someone she was supposed to know, and that was all that mattered. She walked to an empty booth and threw herself onto a soft chair, and put her feet up on the table. Willow and Tara joined her, taking her actions as an invitation to follow, although in fact Faith hadn't cared whether they followed or not.
“So, what's up?” Willow queried. “Given up on patrol? And where's Spike got to? Did he take over patrol for you?”
“Got tired,” Faith explained. “You know, the whole Faith thing. I felt like letting off some steam. Don't know where Spike's got to.”
“Well, all for the letting off steam,” Willow agreed. “But maybe the beer, not so good.”
“Lighten up, Will, not as if I do it that often,” Faith said airily.
“Suppose so. Anyone want a soda?” Willow offered.
“Water, please,” Tara requested.
Faith shook her head. “I'm good.”
Willow left to get the drinks, and Faith turned her attention to this girl Buffy didn't know. She noticed the way Tara watched the redhead, and arched an eyebrow quizzically. “So, you guys been hanging out a lot lately, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. She's, she's, really cool.” Tara found herself blushing under the Slayer's scrutiny.
“So, Willow's not driving stick any more,” Faith grinned. Tara's blush deepened to a bright red. “Who'd a thought? Guess you never really know someone until you've been inside their skin. And Oz is out of the picture? Oh, never seen two people so much in love. She just couldn't get enough of old Oz.”
Tara was upset by Buffy's attitude, but also puzzled. Oz? Willow had mentioned him, but not as if he was of any great importance to her any more. She had talked a lot about her disastrous attempt to seduce Spike, but hadn't given the impression that her previous boyfriend still meant much to her at all. “She s-s-said he, uh, w-w-w-w-went ...” she stammered, blushing even more.
“He w-w-w-what?” Faith mocked. “You gonna get that sentence out sometime tonight?”
Tara lowered her head, crimson with embarrassment and nervousness, and feeling on the verge of tears.
Willow arrived back with a Diet Coke and a glass of water, and deposited them on the table. “Buffy, guy in the corner,” she hissed.
Faith looked over to where a young man was leading a girl from the club. “Yeah, good call,” she acknowledged.
“W-w-what?” Tara asked blankly.
“Vampire,” Willow informed her.
“Wicked obvious,” Faith agreed. She leaned back in her chair, then realised that Willow expected her to do something about it. “No rest for the Slayer,” she moaned, a grin on her face showing that she wasn't really objecting. Dusting vampires was the fun part of being the Chosen One. She rose to her feet and strode after the couple, snatching up a cue from the pool table as she passed.
She arrived in the alley just as the vampire was starting to feed on his victim. She snapped the cue in half, knocked the vampire from the girl, hit him twice, and staked him with the broken cue. “You'll live,” she told the bleeding victim as the dust dispersed. She was about to walk away when the girl rose and seized her hand.
“Thank you. You saved me. Thank you.”
“Yeah. It's cool.” Faith shrugged, freed her hand, and walked away carelessly. She was touched by the girl's gratitude, nonetheless.
“Everything poofed?” Willow greeted her when she re-entered the Bronze.
“All's well in the world,” Faith replied casually.
“Tara's not feeling well. I'm going to walk her home. See you back at the dorm later, okay?” Willow suddenly noticed something unusual about Buffy. “You're not wearing your pearl,” she commented, surprised.
“Oh, yeah,” Faith agreed, putting her hand to her throat, and thinking hard. Should she tell Willow that she had broken up with Spike? That would probably result in demands for details which she had no time for. Better to let Willow find out later; when she ran into a furious vampire convinced that Willow had been feigning friendship and making fun of him in secret. “Must have left it in the bathroom at Mom's. Think I'll head back and pick it up. ‘Fact, think I'll sleep there tonight. See you tomorrow.” She had no intention of sleeping at 1630 Revello Drive, but she couldn't face sharing the dorm room with Willow either, and the lie gave her an easy way out. She left the Bronze by the back way, as soon as the other two girls were out of sight, and ran towards the campus. If Tara didn't live too close to the room shared by Buffy and Willow then Faith could get there first, search for Buffy's ID, pick up a case and a few clothes, and be gone before Willow arrived. She'd sleep in the warehouse where she had watched the Mayor's video; if she couldn't find a man with a better bed to share.
“I'm sorry you're feeling all blechy,” Willow comforted Tara as they walked towards campus, “but we'll get together with Buffy another time. Sometime soon. I think you'll really like her.”
“She's not your friend,” Tara told her, the hesitation and stammering that had afflicted her in ‘Buffy's' presence gone.
“I may have overestimated the ‘you liking her' factor,” Willow responded, raising her eyebrows at the other girl.
“No, no, I mean, I don't, I - I don't think she's her.”
“You lost me.” Willow came to a halt and stared at Tara.
“Well,” Tara explained, “a person's energy has a flow, a unity. Buffy's was fragmented. It - it grated, like something forced in where it doesn't belong. Plus, she was - well, kind of mean.”
“So, you think Buffy's not herself? Like, she was possessed or something? Or, maybe she's a vampire!” Willow was horror-struck.
“No, I don't think so. Spike isn't fragmented. He seemed kind of damaged when I first met him, although he's fine now, but he's always been just himself. Everything fits. This was different. Don't know if it's the same for all vampires, of course.”
“And she came into Giles' place without an invite,” Willow remembered. “She seemed a bit off then too, was mean to Xander and Anya. So, possessed. You didn't sense any hyena energy at all, did you? ‘Cause, hyena possession, not pleasant.”
“No, I don't think so. I need something of hers. There's a ritual. The passage to the nether realm. If we can find Buffy there, we should be able to see.”
“I can get something back at the dorm,” Willow said, and then a thought struck her. “Hey! She wasn't wearing the pearl. She said she forgot it in her mom's bathroom, but that just wouldn't happen. I mean, she always wears it. Never without it. You're right, that wasn't Buffy. And where was Spike? Xander was with him at the Bronze, and he was going to be staying there. I think I'd better call him.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialled, but there was no answer. “That's not like Spike,” she said worriedly. “You don't think Buffy - that fake Buffy - could have dusted him, do you? I mean, he'd trust her.” Her voice shook. “We've got to find him! Let's try his room.”
“You said he had this thing that p-p-protects him,” Tara reminded her, beginning to stammer again as fear for her closest male friend hit her. “He c-c-can't b-b-b-b, stakes d-d-don't w-w-w-w, harm him.”
“If the possessing thing knows what Buffy knows ...” Willow's heart was in her mouth. “Come on, let's get to Fischer Hall quickly. I'll call a cab.”
Spike sat on his bed and took a long drink from a half empty bottle of Wild Turkey. He had no idea why he'd bought it, he didn't like it much. Nor why he had bought the bottle of Captain Morgan Rum which now lay empty on the floor. For that matter, he had no idea why he'd bought the booze rather than eating the clerk in the liquor store and helping himself. Perhaps it was because the clerk had reminded him of Apu in ‘The Simpsons', or perhaps he'd just got out of the habit of eating people. He might as well start again, he supposed. Nothing he did mattered any more.
His mobile phone had rung a few minutes ago, but he hadn't bothered to answer. It could only have been one of the humans who were pretending to be his friends. For a second he'd reached towards it, thinking it might be Giles, and remembering the Watcher telling him “If you ever need help on the tightrope, if you need to talk things over, I'm always available”. Then he had seemed to hear the man he'd thought his friend saying “We are not your friends” and “I'll never want your opinion”, and he had pulled his hand back from the phone as if stung.
He set down the bottle on the floor and took a drag from his cigarette, heedless of the ash falling onto the bed. A CD was playing on his stereo, and he waved the cigarette in time to the music. The most bleak and desolate song he knew. Nothing from the Ramones, the Clash, the Pistols, or any of his other Punk favourites could match his mood. Nor could Richard Thompson, whose ‘Feel So Good' was perhaps his favourite tune for when he was feeling good. Not even Nick Cave's ‘Murder Ballads' were dark enough. It could only be Big Country's ‘Alone', from the album ‘The Buffalo Skinners'.
‘The mid-day sky was grey and purple
At least it wasn't blue.
I want the sky to be the way
I am and what I do.
For I have been a lost and lonely sailor on your sea;
Run aground by trusting signals you were sending me.'
“Damn right, Stuart,” Spike muttered, his voice slurred. “Trusted her, I did.”
‘The streets are filled with empty faces;
Nothing here is new.
It's just the same as other places
I have journeyed to.
I was the first across the water, last upon the land.
I walked out of the silver mine, my pockets filled with sand.
Alone, inside my head
Alone inside my room
I feel alone inside my head
Alone inside my tiny little world.'
As the chorus gave way to a guitar passage Spike realised that someone was knocking at the door. “Spike!” a familiar voice was calling. “Spike, are you all right?”
“Go ‘way, witch,” Spike grunted.
The door flew open, and Willow and Tara burst in. “Spike!” Willow gasped. “You're all right. Oh, thank God!” She flung herself on him and hugged him fiercely. “We were so scared.”
“Get off me, witch!” Spike snarled, clumsily trying to free himself. He dropped the cigarette on the floor in the process, and Tara snatched it up and put it in an overflowing ashtray. She took a moment to switch off the stereo, and then she joined Willow in hugging the protesting vampire, tears running down her cheeks.
“Get off! Leggo!” Spike ordered again, angrily, and morphed into game face. Tara ignored it, and pressed her cheek against his chest. Willow drew back slightly, and gazed into his vampire features, unafraid and not repelled.
“What's wrong, Spike?” she demanded. “What did she do to you?”
Spike stopped trying to push them away, and his features resumed their human aspect. “You don't need to pretend any more,” he said wearily. “I know you don't really like me. I know you think I'm just a monster.”
He sounded so utterly defeated that Willow's eyes filled with sympathetic tears. “We do like you, Spike,” she assured him. “You know that. You're pretty much my best friend, right behind Xander. I really care for you. What lies did that bitch tell you?”
“That bitch?” Spike repeated. “You mean Buffy?”
“That w-w-wasn't B-Buffy,” Tara stammered. “At least, I d-don't think it was. She's p-p-possessed.”
“Possessed?” Spike stared blankly at the two girls.
“Yeah.” Willow released the vampire, went over to Spike's little table, and picked something up from it. “Pretty sure of it.” She held up the pearl pendant so Tara could see it. “She told us she'd left this at her mom's. That was a lie, wasn't it? What did she do, throw it back at you?”
“Yeah,” Spike confirmed. “She wanted me to shag her. When I wouldn't she told me I was just a monster, she'd just been playing along with me ‘cos she wanted a shag, and that she'd got fed up of waiting. She said I was a joke, playing at being a man, and that you lot were just pretending to like me for her sake. She said you were laughing at me behind my back.”
“Oh, my poor Spike,” Willow commiserated. “That is so not true. We love you, me and Tara, and Xander - you're the best guy pal he's had since Jesse died. Buffy, the real Buffy, really cares for you too.” She returned to the bed, and kissed Spike's cheek. “Believe me, William. She was just trying to screw with your head. Or ...” her face paled. “She was trying to kill us. Turning you against us, she thought you'd kill us. It's Faith.”
“What?” exclaimed Spike and Tara simultaneously.
“Has to be. Faith turns up and this happens, too much of a coincidence. She wants us dead, and I remember the fake Buffy said ‘Wicked obvious'. That's a Faith thing, like ‘Five by five'. Things were always ‘wicked cool' and ‘wicked hot'. Not a Buffy thing. Faith's walking around in Buffy's body, and Buffy - she's in jail, or maybe grabbed by the Watchers' Council snorkel guys.”
“Sschnorkel guys?” Spike slurred.
“Spike, you're a mess,” Tara chided him gently. She picked up the whiskey bottle, and looked at the empty bottle of rum. “How much have you drank?”
“Just them,” Spike told her. “I'm okay. Got to save Buffy.” He rose to his feet, but staggered and had to sit down again.
“You're in no shape to do anything tonight,” Willow said firmly. “Does coffee work on vampires? Actually, I'm not in that good shape myself right now. Been a tough day, been really scared for you, and, hey, choking to death in here. How many have you smoked?”
“Whole packet,” Spike confessed. “An' I'm a bit drunk.”
“Understatement of the century,” Willow smiled softly at him. “Come back to Tara's room with us, Spike. We'll use the necklace to do that spell, Tara, just to make sure, then we'll rest up and go see Giles first thing in the morning.”
“Y'want me to spend the night with you?” Spike asked hesitantly, unsure if he had understood.
“Unless you want to wake up like one of those English fish - kippers, right? - in the morning. And I think you need some major cuddles.” Willow glanced at Tara, seeking confirmation, and saw a beaming smile and a nod. “But, hey, cuddles only. Pants stay on.”
“Love you both, pets,” Spike mumbled. “Shouldn't have believed her.” He shivered. “Wish I knew what's happening to Buffy.”
The real Buffy was still in the hands of the Watchers' Council special operations team. Her first attempt to escape had failed, and she was planning a second. She was scared, both for herself and for what Faith might be doing to her friends, and she was frustrated, but she was still determined.
“Yeah, baby, fuck me.” Faith braced one hand against the alley wall, arched her back, and reached back with her other hand to hold her panties aside so that the man could get his cock into her. He wasn't much, just some drunken guy she'd got off with when she'd returned to the Bronze after finding Buffy's ID, but he was all she could find and she was hot to trot. “That's it, push it in.” The cock slid into her, thrust once, thrust twice, and then the man was shuddering and spasming as he came. “Damn it to Hell! Useless jerk,” Faith complained, as the man's knees buckled and the softening cock slid out of her.
“Hey, watch your mouth, bitch!” her partner panted, pulling off his condom and throwing it to the ground. “You wanted a fuck, you got one.”
“I got one per cent of a fuck,” Faith sneered. “Gonna have to let my fingers do the walking.” She pulled up her trousers, straightened up, and turned round to face her unsatisfactory lover, who was zipping up his jeans. She shoved him out of her way, sending him sprawling to the ground, and walked off towards the warehouse to collect her five thousand dollars and grab some sleep before heading for the airport in the morning.