It was early the next morning. The real Buffy dozed fitfully, chained in the rear compartment of the armoured truck, which was hidden in one of Sunnydale's abandoned industrial units. The sound of voices outside the truck woke her, even though the special operations team were trying to be as quiet as possible, and she readied herself for action.
“They can't get us passage. They've ordered the kill,” Collins said.
“Torch the place?” Weatherby asked.
“Get the petrol,” Collins ordered, confirming the assumption.
“She could have killed me. She didn't,” a third voice joined in. Smith, lowest in the group's chain of command. The one who Buffy had briefly held hostage during the night, then released when it became apparent that the other two were unmoved by the threat to their colleague.
“Lucky you,” Collins commented dryly, unmoved by the implied plea for mercy towards their captive. He went to the rear door of the truck and aimed a silenced automatic pistol at the Slayer through the barred window. His hand just barely protruded past the bars.
Buffy lashed out with both legs, caught his hand between her feet, and jerked with all her Slayer strength. The Council operative was pulled forward to smash face first into the steel door and was knocked unconscious as effectively as if he had been punched. The gun fell from his limp hand, landed inside the truck, and Buffy pounced on it. Her first shot was aimed at the chain on her wrists, a link cracked under the impact of the bullet, and she broke free. She hurled herself towards front of the truck, shot out the lock separating her from the driver's compartment, and clambered through into the driving seat.
“Keys, keys,” she muttered, searched frantically through possible hiding places for a few seconds, and then found them. Weatherby appeared at the window, his gun raised, but Buffy threw open the door and knocked him flying. She fumbled the keys into the ignition, started the engine, and put the truck into gear. Smith, now the only member of the Council group still conscious, fired several shots at the truck. None penetrated the armoured body and Buffy ignored them. The factory door was closed, but she drove straight at it, and the armoured truck burst through it with ease. She sped off down the road, free. At least for the moment.
Giles descended the stairs, carrying some dishes, and headed for the kitchen. The door burst open and a dark haired girl rushed into his apartment. “God!” he exclaimed, alarmed, letting the dishes fall to the ground as he recognised her as Faith.
“Giles! Don't move,” the Slayer ordered. “Okay, Giles, you have to listen to me very carefully. I'm not Faith.”
“Really?” the Watcher asked nervously.
“Really,” she assured him.
“The - the resemblance is striking,” he told her, shuffling sideways.
“I know. Giles, you just have to - stop inching! You were inching,” she accused him.
“Look, I - I know what you're going to say,” he told her, “and I ...”
“I'm Buffy,” she announced.
“All right, I didn't know what you were going to say,” he conceded, “but that doesn't make you any less crazy.”
“Faith switched. She had some device, and she switched our bodies.” Buffy grimaced in frustration, and ran a hand through her hair. “Giles, I swear, it's me.”
“Umm, if you are Buffy,” Giles suggested, “then you'll let me tie you up without killing me. Until we find out if you're telling the truth.”
“With that truth spell you were going to use on Harmony?” Buffy guessed. “We don't have time for bondage fun. Faith has taken my body, and for all I know she's taken it to Mexico. Look, I can prove it. Ask me a question. Ask me anything.”
Giles' mind went blank. “Who's President?” he blurted out.
Buffy pouted at him. “C'mon, Giles, we're checking for a Buffy, not for a concussion. Try this. Michelle is Harmony, she stole the Gem of Amara while you were blind, Spike played Gilbert and Sullivan when you gave the slideshow about the Gentlemen, Ethan Rayne turned you into a demon, your girlfriend is called Olivia, and you haven't had a job since we blew up the school, not that I'm criticising your lifestyle choice. Oh, and Spike told us that Drusilla turned one of Neil Young's backing group in 1979 and he just kept playing with the band even though he was a vampire, which reminds me he wants his ‘Live Rust’ CD back sometime. And when I had psychic powers I heard Mom think that you were like a stevedore during sex. Do I need to continue?”
“Actually, I beg you to stop,” Giles pleaded.
“What's a stevedore?” Buffy pressed on remorselessly, grinning.
“All right, I'm convinced.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You'll need to explain everything.”
“And I will, but we need to get Faith,” Buffy began. She was interrupted by the door opening again. Spike, Willow, and a girl she didn't know came into the room. Buffy raised her hands. “Spike, Willow, wait,” she began.
“Buffy!” Spike and Willow exclaimed in chorus. “Are you all right?” They flashed a brief grin at each other.
“You know?” Buffy asked, both pleased and surprised. She went to Spike, who opened his arms to embrace her.
“You're Buffy. Faith switched your bodies, probably through a Draconian Katra spell,” Willow summarised. “Tara,” she gestured towards the honey-blonde girl who stood beside her, “figured it out. She's a really powerful witch.”
“Not really,” Tara downplayed her abilities bashfully.
Willow shot her a brief affectionate smile, and continued. “She knew right away that you weren't you, and I worked out it had to be Faith in your body, and we did this spell that confirmed it. And we conjured our own Katra.” She was carrying a small box, and she opened it to reveal a green glowing object. “It can switch you back, if we can get hold of Faith.”
“God, Will, I hope so,” Buffy breathed. She wrinkled her nose. “Spike, you smell like a distillery,” she complained. “A smoky one. What have you been up to?”
“Long story, love,” Spike replied. “Short version is, Faith was bleeding horrible to me, I thought she was you, and I got sodding depressed. If I hadn't had such good friends, Red and Glinda, to pull me out of it, I might have done something bloody stupid.”
Buffy was intrigued. How did Spike and Willow know this girl so well when she had never met her? He even had a pet name for Tara. She was about to press for further explanations when Giles' phone rang.
After a brief conversation Giles hung up, and went to his television. “That was Xander,” he explained, turning on the set. “There's a local news report on that we need to see.”
A news announcer was in the middle of speaking as the television came to life. “...and barricaded themselves in the church with at least twenty parishioners. One of the few who escaped described the three men as ‘frighteningly disfigured, almost inhuman’. So far, one escapee has since died of severe neck wounds. There is no report on the condition of the parishioners still trapped inside, but their assailants have vowed to kill all of them if police attempt to storm the church.”
“Vampires,” Buffy declared with absolute certainty.
“In a church?” Spike was uncertain.
“In broad daylight?” Giles was equally unsure.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it's vampires. I'm sure of it.” Buffy hesitated, torn between duty and her own predicament. “It's got to be something big. Faith will just have to wait.”
Faith was waiting at the airport when the news item appeared on TV. She watched, fascinated and horrified. Her flight was due soon, she had been just about to check in, but she delayed. She too realised that it had to be vampires, and she too was torn between conflicting courses of action. Sunnydale's normal defences against the supernatural were, as far as she knew, more or less neutralised. Buffy was in captivity. Spike was now more likely to join the vampires than to fight against them to save the hostages. Willow, Xander, and Giles would probably seek out Spike for advice and muscle, and then would be torn apart by the bitterly angry creature. The police would rely on guns and be useless. Everyone in the church would die, and it would be her fault. She turned away from the check-in desk and walked towards the cab rank.
Forrest Gates was with the police outside the church when Buffy's party arrived. Buffy hung back, wary of being arrested, even though she was wearing one of Willow's dorkiest hats and a fuzzy sweater to make herself look as unlike Faith as possible, and left it to Spike to do the talking.
“What's the situation, mate?” Spike asked.
“Hi, Spike,” the Initiative agent greeted him. Worry was evident on his face, and he abandoned all pretence at being an innocent civilian. “Not good. Riley's in there, he's in no shape for a fight, and the Hostiles mean business. And now Buffy's just walked in there too. Couldn't stop her.”
“What? Buffy's in there?” Spike was dumbfounded. He looked back at the real Buffy, and saw the same astonishment in her eyes.
“Just walked in,” Forrest repeated. “Less than two minutes ago. Said just one girl shouldn't set them off killing anyone, and I guess she's right, but she's put herself in big danger. I know she's damn good, but so are the Hostiles, and there's three of them.” Spike moved towards the church, but the other man caught hold of his arm and brought him to a halt. “Can't let you do it, Spike. They might think a girl's just another victim, but if you go in they're going to get to thinking they're under attack and start on with the killing.”
“Then let me go in,” Buffy said firmly, trying to avoid looking at any of the police officers. “I'm as good as she is, and I won't make them feel threatened either. Until it's too late.”
“No can do, Miss.” Forrest shook his head, and then turned back to Spike. “Graham's gone to the base to get some weaponry. Until he gets back, we wait.”
“Cops doing what you tell them, then?”
“Pretty much.”
“So what's Riley doing in there anyway?” Spike asked.
“Sunday worship. It's his church, man, that's all. No weapons, no comms gear, and a hole in his gut. Hope he's got the sense to just keep his head down.” Forrest looked across at the church again, frowning.
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. The doors burst open, and people began to run out of the building. Riley came into view, shepherding the crowd away, and supporting someone who appeared to be injured. Forrest ran over to join him. Buffy and Spike ran just behind him, relying on the police assuming they were with him, and reached the crowd of escaping victims. Spike spotted a man among the crowd who was scuttling away in a crouch, holding a coat over his head, and he pounced. He seized the coat, tugged hard, and the fleeing vampire was suddenly exposed to the sunlight. Frantically he tried to reverse his course and make it to the shadows, but tripped over a parishioner's foot and sprawled headlong in full sunlight. Five seconds later there was nothing there but dust.
“Forgot your coat, mate,” Spike grinned. He saw Buffy entering the church, and was about to follow, but almost stumbled over a woman who had fallen on the church steps and who was bleeding heavily from a wound in her arm. He looked for Riley and Forrest, saw that they were already engaged in assisting injured parishioners, and so he scooped the woman up gently and carried her over to the police cars. “Buffy can look after herself for a minute,” he muttered, but he failed to convince himself, and raced back towards the church as soon as he had handed the injured parishioner over to a paramedic.
Inside the church Faith had dusted one of the vamps, battered and terrified one to the point where it had fled to meet a fiery end courtesy of Spike, and freed Riley to evacuate the parishioner hostages, but the leader of the vampires was proving a handful. He was fast, strong, and skilful, obviously no newly-turned fledgling but an experienced vampire, and seemed filled with a fanatical drive which helped him to hold his own against the Slayer. He knocked the stake from her hand and threw her across the aisle to crash into a pew.
“I have strength you couldn't dream of!” he shouted, following up his advantage and punching Faith in the face. “Adam has shown me the way,” he punched her again, “and there is nothing - !”
He froze in mid word and burst into a shower of dust, revealing to a stunned Faith her own body standing with raised stake where the vampire had been.
Faith reacted instantly, leaping to attack Buffy, and catching her at a disadvantage because Buffy had to discard the stake to avoid injuring the body she intended to reoccupy. Even so Buffy only took one punch before recovering and knocking Faith down with ease.
“Give up,” she urged the other girl. “You can't win. You must know that.”
“Shut up!” Faith screamed. “You think I'm afraid of you?” She launched herself at Buffy in a berserk frenzy, seizing her and throwing her to the ground, and then sat on top of Buffy and began to punch her furiously, yelling at her hysterically. “You're nothing! Disgusting! Murderous bitch, you're nothing!” Buffy was bewildered by Faith's words as well as hurt by the punches, and for a moment was unable to fight back. Then Faith began to sob as she punched, and Buffy reached up and caught her hand.
A blaze of light came from their clasped hands. Suddenly Buffy found herself astride Faith, hand drawn back for a punch, and she recoiled. She was shaken by the emotion Faith had displayed. It wasn't just evil and hatred, there had a terrible pain and confusion evident, and Buffy couldn't bring herself to hit the other Slayer again. And Faith had saved the congregation. She wasn't totally lost, there was still something there of the fellow Slayer Buffy had once called a friend. She released Faith and stepped back for a moment, readjusting to being in her own body once more, preparing to face another attack.
Faith reacted to the body swap much faster than Buffy had expected, and in a fashion she had not anticipated. The rogue Slayer rose to her feet, turned, and ran from the church as fast as she could. Buffy pursued, but ran into a totally unexpected problem. The Press. The crew from the local TV News and reporters from the local newspaper, all wanting to talk to the heroine who had freed the hostages.
Buffy would have been embarrassed about the publicity anyway, and knowing that it was really Faith who'd been the heroine made it even worse. She stammered out something about having not done much, just distracted the ‘gang members' for a minute, she'd been lucky, another girl had come in who had done more; she kept her hand in front of her face as much as possible and made for the police. She wasn't wildly enthusiastic about talking to them either, but at least they could keep the Press away. Once safe from the reporters she was reprieved by Riley and Forrest, who used their influence to save her from police questioning. Eventually she was able to get away and rejoin the Scoobies.
“It worked, it's me,” she assured them. “Xander got syphilis at Thanksgiving, Giles wore a sombrero at Halloween, Parker's a Thunderbirds puppet, Spike calls this girl Tara ‘Glinda', which I want to know more about pretty soon, and Bill Clinton's the President. Good enough?”
They were convinced, and group hugs ensued. Buffy spotted a suitcase on the ground near the police cars. “Hey, that's mine!” she exclaimed, and retrieved it. “Faith must have been planning on skipping town,” she deduced, once back with the gang and heading for Giles' place. “Lucky we caught her. Although, must say, yay Faith doing her thing to save those people. Maybe not all bad.”
Willow didn't look convinced. “Maybe she's not all bad, but there's still a lot of badness there. She set us up.”
“Set you up?” Buffy echoed, puzzled.
Willow nodded emphatically. “She told Spike we weren't his friends, that we were just pretending, and we were laughing at him behind his back. She was trying to get him to kill us. I can't see it any other way.”
“She might not have thought it through, pet,” Spike disagreed. “She might just have been trying to hurt me as much as she could. Don't know if she really had a plan the way you reckon.”
“Not really making me feel that much better towards her.” Willow glowered at an imaginary Faith, and gave her vampire friend's arm a quick squeeze. “Hurting you, not the way to get into my good books.”
Once back at Giles' apartment Buffy took stock of her situation. She opened her suitcase and found it to contain an assortment of her own clothes, taken from her dorm room. “Not my favourite things, but glad I didn't lose them,” she commented, then went through her pockets. Her Student ID card, her ATM card, her cell phone, and two hundred dollars in cash. Then a bulging envelope she didn't recognise. Opening it she discovered a thick wad of banknotes. “Hey, I'm in pocket on this deal!” she exclaimed with a smile. She counted the money, and whistled. “Five thousand dollars! Five thousand dollars! I'm, like, rich!” Her smile died when she found the next item.
A packet of Trojans. Opened. She looked inside, her face worried, and she visibly paled. “Oh, God!” she gasped. There should have been three condoms inside, but there were only two.
Faith rummaged through her pockets, checking her inventory. Four dollars and ninety two cents in cash. A set of vehicle keys, bearing the ‘Dodge' logo, but no other clue as to what vehicle they fitted. A woolly hat she wouldn't want to be seen dead in, and a fuzzy sweater with an embroidered Red Panda on the front. A battered box of chocolates. She had acquired them from the hospital visitor whose clothes she had stolen, and she hadn't even got round to opening them, but now there was nothing left inside except the hard toffee centres. “Yeah, B and chocolate, what'd I expect?” she said sadly. A tear trickled down her cheeks.
She stared out of the boxcar at the scenery going past. She must be going to Los Angeles, because the Sunnydale spur line didn't go anywhere else. How she was going to survive there she had no idea. So much for her great escape. Maybe she should have stayed in Sunnydale. Somehow, incredibly, she had the feeling that Buffy didn't totally hate her, felt sorry for her, might even have helped her. She'd seen Giles, Willow, and that other girl as she ran from the church, standing at the Police line, and she'd seen Spike helping with the victims, so she hadn't destroyed them the way she'd thought.
Spike? In the sunlight? And, come to think of it, when she'd been nosing round the campus picking up info about Buffy and Willow she'd found that Spike was working at the College, which did imply no daylight issues. What the Hell was the deal with that vamp? Not that it mattered any more.
Should she have stayed? No, she might not have destroyed them, but she'd still done a lot of damage, too much for anyone to forgive. They wouldn't have helped her. No-one could help her. She was lost, beyond salvage, doomed. She sank to the floor of the boxcar and sobbed.
Joyce held Buffy to her, comforting her as she wept, stroking her hair gently. At last the crying ended, and Buffy lifted her head to look at her mother. “I made your sweater all wet,” she smiled weakly. She sniffed. “Got a tissue, Mom?” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Funny, don't feel so bad now. Must look a complete mess, but at least I feel better.”
“Glad you think so, but I've no idea what I've done that was so good,” Joyce confessed, hugging her daughter.
“Just been you,” Buffy told her, returning the hug. “I just needed to feel loved. I was feeling used. But I think I'm gonna be okay. God, don't know how I'd have coped if she'd done it with Spike. But he kept his word. He's mine, and only mine. I can get through this.”
“You know, I think that's all Faith wanted. To be loved,” Joyce observed. “She was cold and scary while she was herself, but once she was in your body she was - well, affectionate. I thought you were acting a little oddly once or twice, but I didn't spot it wasn't you because I was still feeling the warmth. She wanted me to love her. I'm sure she wanted Spike to love her too, and that's why she was so nasty when he wouldn't make love to her. I don't think she can understand that there can be more to love with a man than that. She's lost, and lonely, and I feel sorry for her. This doesn't mean I don't want her to go to jail, but I can understand.”
“Yeah, I get that. She was so happy that time when you invited her to spend Christmas Eve with us, you know. Don't think she'd ever had a family Christmas.” Buffy sniffled again. “I don't hate her any more. Hate what she did, but I don't hate her. She hates herself. I could see it there in the church. She was hitting me, and screaming how much she hated me, but it was her face she was punching. It was herself she was hating. And she came back. Musta been two steps from the plane and she came back to be a Slayer. That's gotta be worth something. ‘Course, if she turns up again I'm still so gonna kick her ass.” She blew her nose again. “I'm so glad I've got you, and Spike, and Giles, and Willow and Xander. She's got no-one.”
“That reminds me,” Joyce remarked. “She paid for that plane ticket with my credit card, and I can't get it refunded. And there was two hundred and fifty dollars missing from my purse.”
“Well, that's easy fixed,” Buffy assured her. “There was more in my pockets than the thing that got me so wigged. There was a loose two hundred dollars, must be what was left over from your cash, and there was five thousand dollars in an envelope. Guess her sugar daddy left it for her along with the switcheroo gizmo. I'll get it for you in a mo, but gotta fix my face first. Not gonna walk in on Spike looking like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, ‘specially not in front of Xander and Anya.”
“You love him, don't you?” The question came out of nowhere. Joyce hadn't even really intended to say it aloud.
Buffy stood absolutely still for a moment, her brow wrinkled. “Yeah. I hadn't really thought about it. It just sorta crept up on me. But I'm just so glad he didn't sleep with Faith, can't bear to think of him with anyone else, guess I do love him. You okay with that, Mom?”
“More than okay. I'm delighted. Have you told him yet?”
“Well, no, Mom. I've only just told me.”
“Well, do so soon. He needs to hear it. It's funny, but he seems so insecure sometimes. He can be hurt so badly just by a few words.” Joyce frowned. “Now, don't you dare tell him I said that!”
“Yeah, like I'd tell the Big Bad he needs reassuring 'cause Mom thinks he's a big softy.” Buffy chuckled. “Thanks for the mending job on my head, Mom. Now I'd better fix my face before we miss the skating.”
“You by yourself then, mate?” Spike asked, letting Xander into the Summers' house.
“Yeah, Ahn decided to give it a miss. Just me and the beers.” Xander had brought a six-pack from his father's fridge, and he passed a can to Spike then took one for himself.
“Ta, mate.” Spike accepted the can from Xander, and sat down. “I suppose I should give the beer a miss after the bender I went on yesterday, but what the Hell.”
“You had a tough time, I hear.” Xander opened the ring pull on his own can, and took a drink. He set the can down, and looked quizzically at the vampire. “Spike,” he went on in a somewhat hesitant fashion, “I hear you were pretty broke up about the things Faith told you. Not just her pretending that the Buffster was playing you for a fool, but that me and Will were just faking being your friends. Would it bother you that much? Are we that important to you?”
“Yeah, whelp, you are,” Spike admitted reluctantly. “Told you, didn't I? Reason I'm on the good guys' side is ‘cos I want you lot to be my friends.”
“And I matter too? Not just the girls and Giles?” Xander had a big goofy grin on his face.
“Bleeding Hell, Harris, you competing with me for the Insecure Wankers' World Championship?” Spike grinned back at the young man. “'Course you bleeding well matter. None of the girls can play pool worth a damn. Besides, still got hopes of getting you to appreciate real football.”
“You mean Soccer,” Xander shot back. “Sure I appreciate it. Watched every kick when the US team won the World Cup, didn't I?”
“It's Football, and it's not a girl's game,” Spike growled in mock anger. “It's France who won the World Cup, worse luck.”
“So, you think you could out-clever us French folk with your silly knees-bent running about advancing behaviour?” Xander quoted. “I wave my private parts at your aunties.”
“Your mother was a hamster, and your father smells of elderberries,” Spike riposted.
“You must give us all a good spanking,” Xander continued the quoting game as Joyce and Buffy walked into the room. “And, after the spanking, the oral sex.” He looked up, saw the women, and went crimson. “It's from ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail',” he explained desperately. “It's not what it sounds like.”
“So, not telling Spike about what you were doing last night then?” Buffy smiled. “With Anya and her huge ... tracts of land?”
Xander's blush faded. Joyce switched on the TV and sat down, and Buffy joined Spike on the couch. She snuggled into his side, and he put his arm around her.
“You okay, love?” he asked her softly.
“Yeah, I'm okay now,” she assured him. “I'm fine, my love.”