End of the Road
TITLE: End of the Road
RATING: 18UK
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Joss is a God only masquerading as a human.
And soon, very soon, we're going to find out just what he has in store for us all. In the meantime, everything `Buffy' and `Angel' orientated is his.
FEEDBACK: Yep, tommo27@h...
SPOILERS: References to S3 and 4.
ARCHIVE: No problem, just let me know eh?
SUMMARY: Faith has issues with her past and goes to L.A. to deal with them. Linked in essence to `To The Edge' and `The Path of Faith'. A trilogy, if you like.
"I am a creature of the Fey
Prepare to give your soul away
My spell is passion and it is art
My song can bind a human heart
And if you chance to know my face
My hold shall be your last embrace"
~ Brenna Gwyn
Part 1
"Cordelia?" Wesley's voice echoed through the hotel foyer, resounding off the marbled floor. His cut glass British accent made his speech sound like rapping footsteps as he moved towards the desk where Cordelia usually sat. Her seat was empty; he tutted in annoyance as he peered over the wooden counter, as though expecting to find her hiding behind it.
Sighing, he turned and moved around the counter to the office behind. Peering around the door, he saw the dark haired girl engrossed in a magazine, her head bent over it, poring at the pictures within.
"Cordelia!" he repeated, making her jump and spin around in her chair.
The look on her face assured him that he had interrupted something `very important', as Cordy liked to call her down time. In fact, he told himself, if looks could kill, he would be lying flat out on the floor by now.
"Wesley," she began, a sharp tone in her voice cutting into his ears, "I know you wear glasses and all, but can't even you see I'm busy?"
"No time for entertaining yourself I'm afraid," he moved forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what she was reading, "Angel wants us to move on the Ryan case today." As he leant over her shoulder, he saw that it wasn't a magazine she was reading, but, in fact, a book. A very large book. A very large book with very small print. "What on earth are you looking at?" he muttered, reaching down with one hand.
Quickly, Cordy slammed the book shut, almost catching his fingers in its heavy covers. Jerking back, he shot her a look of reprove, as she slid the book to one side, hiding it with her hands and body. She stood, blocking his view. "Contrary to what you like to think of me Wesley," she said, affronted, "I do sometimes dip into something that isn't superficial and meaningless. I have depths," she announced proudly.
Wesley frowned, "And just what, may I ask, are we plunging into then? Don't tell me," he held up a finger as she opened her mouth, "The collected works of Versace? My life as a designer by Terence Conran?" His sarcasm wasn't lost on her and she shook her head, trying to move past him.
"You're really an ass sometimes you know, double barrelled name or no double barrelled name." Pushing past him she returned to her seat in front of the computer where they kept all their database information. Sitting down, she pushed a hand through her hair and reached for the keyboard.
A moment later, Wesley emerged from the office, a contrite look on his face. He held the book in his hand; a battered tome entitled `Wechsler's Demonic History'. He placed it gently down beside the keyboard.
"I'm sorry."
Cordelia shrugged and tried not to look as angry as she felt. For so long, Wesley had underestimated her abilities. She was sure that he only had the modicum of respect for her that he did because of her visions. However much she tried to prove herself during their investigations, she always seemed to come up short. She had guessed it was connected to his strict British upbringing, although he had eased up somewhat since working with Angel. However, today, she thought as she banged furiously away at the keyboard, he was back to his usual stuck up self. Even Rogue Demon Hunters had their off days.
"Cordelia," he moved behind her laid his hand gently on her shoulder.
"The Ryan case," she tensed, ignoring him, "We need to pick up the package at 47th and Main today. Two pm." Her voice was clipped and he knew she was angry.
"I am sorry Cordelia," he leant on the table, trying to make contact with her eyes. A pair of very angry eyes that were firmly fixed on the computer screen in front of her. "I know I should give you credit for the work that you do here."
Now she looked at him. A disparaging glance, but a look all the same. His hangdog expression and remorseful gaze couldn't fail to hit a note inside her. For all his faults (of which he had many, as she was constantly reminding him) Wesley was one of the good guys. She needed to remember that.
A sigh escaped her lips, "Okay, okay. Forgiven." As he brightened considerably, she held up a finger, "But I'm warning you, next time it might be martial arts I'm studying, then you'll know about being such a smartass."
"I'll bear that in mind," he smiled, getting up and going for his coat. Shrugging it on over his shoulders he picked up the keys to Angel's car. "I'll see you later?"
She shrugged and threw him a critical look, "Not unless you plan on following me to the very expensive restaurant where I plan to wine and dine myself." She pushed at her hair again, "Seeing as no one else wants to do it. You know," she paused to take breath for what was going to be another long `nobody loves me' speech. Wesley edged towards the door, wondering if he could make a run for it without being noticed. "This job has done nothing for my social life," she said, her tone bordering on whiny, "I only ever seem to meet demons and other dark creatures of the night; the men that I do meet are like, seriously damaged. That only leaves you and Angel. What kind of a life is that? He's the undead and you're…" she turned, looking at the spot previously occupied by Wesley. He had gone. "Wesley?" she peered over the counter, scanning the foyer of the ex-hotel with a sharpened gaze. Receiving no answer, she pressed her lips together in disgust. "Men," she muttered to herself, "all the same. Dead or undead."
Faith walked slowly along the street, just off the main highway where the truck driver had set her down. She stretched her arms out, feeling a click in her shoulders. Sitting in a cab for a couple of hours had done nothing for her comfort level; listening to the driver go on and on about `forty tonnes of pure machine' had done nothing for her patience level either.
A grin worked its way over her lips; in previous days she would have offed the guy and driven the truck herself. Instead, she had gone to sleep, needing to relieve herself of the burdens she carried with her day by day. Leaving Sunnydale and coming here had been one of the hardest decisions she'd ever had to make. She could still feel the warmth of a pair of arms around her.
Buffy.
She sighed, hitching her bag up onto her shoulder and shoving her hands into her pockets. All she had ever wanted had woken up beside her this morning; yet she had known it wouldn't last. There was no way she and Buffy could have been happy together. It's a Slayer thing, she told herself, using the same old excuse she always did when the complex nature of her and Buffy's relationship spiralled out of her understanding. She didn't understand what it was between them, only that there was something between them. Acknowledging it, knowing it, that was enough. It had to be. She loved Buffy, had loved her. And now?
Faith stopped for a second, looking down at the grimy pavement beneath her feet. Well, now it was different. She'd always have that love, that feeling of completeness. But she had to move on, walk her own path. Being with Buffy had taken her the first part of that journey.
"Hey," a voice behind her whirled her around and crouched her body, ready to fight. She turned to see a kid standing in front of her, legs either side of a cycle, looking up at her in something akin to fright.
Straightening, Faith pushed back her hair and shifted from foot to foot. Never take a Slayer by surprise, she wanted to warn the kid. Instead, she attempted a smile and looked at him questioningly.
"You know the way to 47th and Main?" the kid asked, his hand reaching up to readjust the baseball cap perched on top of his dark curly hair.
"Uh…no, I'm kinda new in town." Faith was unaccustomed to conversation that didn't involve the prelude or epilogue to a fight. She struggled with the words, couldn't express herself. It had always frustrated her, that lack of education. Another thing to beat herself up about.
"Oh. Okay. Thanks anyway!" the kid called out as he pedalled furiously away from her.
Watching him leave, Faith realised that there were people unlike her in this world. People who led normal lives, did normal things. A deep-seated yearning rose inside her, one that she had always shoved right down to the bottom of things. She wanted to be normal. Like everyone else.
She began to follow the same route the kid had taken. There was one person in the city who could maybe help her achieve that sense of normality in what was a very abnormal existence. And all she had to do was find him.
Wesley opened the newspaper and flicked it irritably. He hated upsetting Cordelia, but sometimes her `holier than thou' attitude really got him riled. Still, he comforted himself; she was learning to be more gentle. Her visions, the gift she cursed regularly, that was what had instigated a change in her life. Sighing, he glanced up and down the street, leaning back against the hard brick wall. Sometimes he wondered when his own defining moment would strike.
A car approached him slowly, causing him to lean up off the wall and stand to attention. As it passed him, he sank back, wondering just how long he was going to have to wait for the pickup. The package, which was nothing more than a few papers, was carefully rolled and stashed in his jacket pocket. The papers wouldn't have made any sense to anyone human, but to the demon looking for them, they held the key to an ancient ritual of worship. Angel had been reluctant to participate in helping the demon, but, as Cordelia reminded him, demons might be unpleasant but their money was just as green as anyone else's. Even if, sometimes, so was their skin.
"Hey mister," a voice to his left made Wesley turn from his reverie. Looking down, he saw a grubby child on a bicycle staring up at him.
"I don't have any money." Wesley said shortly.
The kid laughed, a sound that would have been more fitting from a grownup. A sound that bordered on the unpleasant. "I don't want your money mister," the voice was almost mocking. The kid pushed back his baseball cap, perched on top of his head, to reveal two short horns growing from just underneath his hairline. "I want the package. You got it?"
Wesley's hand moved to press against the roll of papers in his pocket, alarm ringing inside his head for some reason. He hadn't expected a demon to actually approach him in broad daylight. Especially not a demonic child. Taking a step backwards, he eyed the child up and down.
"I have it, yes," he said cagily, feeling the bulge of a revolver next to the papers in his jacket.
"So come on mister, let's not waste any time."
"I was expecting some kind of remuneration?" Wesley watched as the kid parked his bike, his small body dismounting and standing in front of him. Just a kid, Wesley told himself, just a child.
The kid snorted, stuffing the baseball cap into the rear pocket of his jeans that were ill fitting and frayed around the edges. He looked up at Wesley, the difference between their two heights laughable to an indifferent onlooker. An onlooker wouldn't, however, have seen the change in the child's eyes. Turning from blue to yellow, they flashed up at the tall Englishman as the contours of the child's face rippled and changed.
Watching in fearful apprehension, Wesley suddenly found himself faced with a tiny demon whose body seemed surprisingly stocky underneath the children's clothes. He took a step backwards, feeling the hard surface of the wall preventing him from moving any further.
"Don't start with me mister," the demon growled, squaring up in front of Wesley, his eyes gleaming dangerously, set in a face that was now deep set and ridged. "Gimme the package and I'll let you go."
"How about, you pay me what you owe me and then we're both happy?" Wesley struggled to keep his cool, pushing at his glasses nervously.
The demon shrugged, "If you wanna do it the hard way mister, that's not a problem for me."
"It's not a problem for any of us," a voice behind the demon attracted both pairs of eyes. "And here was me thinking that the whole innocence of youth thing was a joke," the voice continued, slow and steady, "So how about you help me out here and stop with the whole threatening vibe?"
Wesley's mouth dropped open as he stared at the familiar figure in front of him. Faith cast him a glance and nodded. "Hi Wes," she said, before grabbing the shoulders of the demon and shoving him away from the Englishman. The demon growled and was about to swing a well-aimed punch at Faith, but she dodged it, letting the fist swoosh through the air instead. The kid snarled at her and leaped towards her. Grabbing his shoulders again, Faith blocked him easily, pushing him back onto the ground, where he fell with a hard crunch as his body hit the sidewalk.
"And don't let me catch you out again on your own," she quipped, adopting her Slayer stance over him.
The kid looked ruefully between her and Wesley, the glimmer in his eyes retreating as his face returned to a human visage. Getting to his feet, he grabbed his bicycle and hotfooted it away from them, muttering demon expletives to himself.
Wesley watched him go, then his gaze returned to Faith, standing larger than life and twice as nervous in front of him. Shifting from foot to foot, the dark Slayer shrugged.
"So…Wes…fancy meeting you here," she said finally.
"I thought you were…" He attempted a sentence but found that words were failing him.
"In prison?" Faith finished, "Yeah I was but…" She stopped and looked down at the ground, "It's kind of a long story. I got out." A half-smile crossed her mouth and she shrugged. "Apparently not that long," she added.
"So I see." Wesley began to inch his way long the wall behind him, trying to move away from Faith before she started her reign of terror again. He still had an unusually shaped scar on his chest from that night when she had tortured him mercilessly. What had frightened him most had been the look in her eyes; wild and untamed. Of all the demons and creatures he had ever faced, Faith had been by far the most terrifying.
The dark Slayer watched his movements, her heart sinking. Keep a grip Faith, she told herself, don't give it up yet. She had done it in Sunnydale, no reason to think that she couldn't make right here in L.A. either. Just be strong, she gritted her teeth firmly, be real strong.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," she told him, holding out her hand. A wince of pain flashed inside her as he flinched away from it. She drew it back, letting it drop down beside her body. "I came to see Angel," she added, looking at his tense body, his rigid features.
"Come to make good on your agreement with Wolfram and Hart?" His clipped accent cut deep wounds into her conscience.
"Wes, I'm done with all that."
"I wish I could believe you Faith." He pushed at his glasses, moving further away from her.
She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. Actions speak louder, she told herself. Stepping back, she picked up her bag from the sidewalk where it had fallen during her tussle with the demon child. Slinging it onto her shoulder, she cast a wistful look in the direction of the shocked ex-Watcher.
"You will," she said, then turned and walked away from him.
Part 2
Bursting through the doors of the hotel, Wesley almost tripped his way down the stairs into the foyer, breathing heavily. He had driven like a maniac all the way back from his encounter with the demonic child and Faith. The sprint back from where the car was parked had winded him. He thought somewhere in the back of his mind that he wasn't as fit as he used to be, although this thought, along with many others, had mingled and faded in his head along the way. He hadn't had much time for coherent thoughts; his only purpose to return as quickly as possible and inform Angel of the Slayer's return.
As he reached the sofa positioned in the centre of the foyer, he leaned against the back of it, his fingers clenching at the leather surface. Cordelia had emerged from the office behind the counter and was eyeing him warily, her face screwed up into an expression of amused distaste.
"Exercising?" she enquired, her tone slightly mocking.
Wesley reached out with a hand, still unable to regain his breath and gestured towards the stairs. "I need…" he gasped, "Angel…"
Shaking his head wildly, Wesley waved his fingers around, watching in a blind panic as the brunette's eyes followed his trembling digits. "No…" he wheezed, "Need to…talk…to…Angel…"
"Yeah, we all need to talk to him Wes, but you know what he's like in the middle of the day. Besides," an odd expression coloured the girl's face and she darted her gaze up towards the stairs before fixing it firmly on the taut features of the British ex-Watcher, "he's kinda got company." She practically whispered the last word, moving from behind the counter to stand close to Wesley.
"Someone came here wanting to see him." Her tone was hushed and confidential, "A certain someone who –" she was cut off abruptly by footsteps on the stairs behind them. Looking up, Cordelia pursed her lips and stepped backwards, folding her arms.
As Wesley followed her stare of reprove, he was amazed to see Angel coming down the stairs with Faith in tow, a broad smile across his handsome face. Faith followed him almost meekly, like a little lamb. Perching uncomfortably on the back of the sofa, Wesley attempted to control his breathing, although his heart was hammering in his chest like a freight train.
"Cordelia, Wes," Angel reached the foot of the stairs and walked towards them, motioning for Faith to follow, "Faith's gonna stay with us here for a while." He looked between his two employees and, when he didn't receive a response, shrugged slightly and pushed his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers. "I told her that would be okay. It is….isn't it?" His dark gaze flickered between their two faces, pleading with them for a response.
For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with tension, whilst the low tick of a clock could be heard in the foyer, timing their shocked expressions down to what Faith felt was going to be a `nice but no way' kind of reaction. She shifted from foot to foot, wanting to run. She'd told Angel as much when he had suggested she stay here with him. That wasn't why she'd come back, she insisted, she wasn't looking for a free ride.
Angel's response had been to tell her that it wasn't a free ride, that she could pay her way with services rendered. She guessed it was his way of being kind to her. Like all those times he'd visited her in prison, talked her through her tough times.
Looking at the hardened faces of two people that had been on her `to do' list, Faith wasn't so sure that even Angel could talk them round. She made eye contact with Cordelia for a second, then pulled her gaze away, ashamed at the open disgust with which the other girl viewed her. Had she really been so bad? Had it really been so hard for them?
Memories flashed into her mind like long forgotten echoes of the past. Yeah, she told herself grimly, she'd screwed both of `em over good.
"Guys…" Angel began, his conciliatory tone only incensing Cordelia even further. When Faith had arrived, her first thought had been to run for cover. Luckily, Angel was up and about and had rushed Faith off to his room upstairs before Cordy had even had chance to register what was happening. Now she'd had time to think about it though, she was pretty sure she didn't want a Slayer anywhere near her. Especially a bad Slayer.
God knows, she thought, being near Buffy the Good had been bad enough. Faith was just trouble, she told herself firmly, pressing her lips together in blunt accusation, she always had been. Her eyes roamed the dark girl behind Angel; her tired features and downcast eyes failing to make an impression on her heart, softened as it was by these days and nights of visions. Deep inside Cordelia, the fear still remained, only consolidated by the horrors that swept in and out of her brain.
"Fine."
Angel and Wesley both turned and stared at her as she stood boldly in front of them.
"What?" Wesley, now having regained his breath, almost lost it again at Cordelia's seeming acceptance of Faith. He shook his head, his eyes turning once again, almost sneaking a glance at the dark Slayer. Despite his efforts to want to believe, he was utterly convinced that she was evil, that a darkness lived in her soul.
"If that's what Angel wants, then fine." Cordelia expanded on her utterance.
"Thanks Cordy," Angel grinned, turning back to look at Faith with an encouraging shrug of his shoulders.
"Yeah, thanks Cordelia." Faith stepped up beside him, directing her words towards the brunette, trying to ignore the gimlet-gaze of her ex-Watcher who was only a few feet away. "I promise, things are gonna be different. I'm different. I've had a little down time and hey," she grinned, "I'm with the game now."
"Uh-huh." Cordelia brushed Faith's sentiments aside with a wave of her manicured hand. "I have conditions Angel." She ignored the hurt expression of the dark Slayer and held out her hand, counting them off on her fingers. "One, I am not to be left alone in this hotel with her; two, she does not talk to me unless it's absolutely necessary; three, I get a raise."
"A raise?" Angel frowned, his dark brows drawing together over his piercing eyes. "Where does the raise come into this?"
"Just thought I'd ask." Cordy said, sighing. She looked at Faith just once, then turned, shaking her head, walking off into the little office behind the counter.
"Wes? You okay with this?" Angel moved closer to his friend and co-worker, his face knotted into an expression of concern. He watched as Wesley stood up, straightening his body into a hard rod of defence. The slender Englishman looked at Faith, then back at Angel, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he said quietly, his tone holding a warning and a plea.
"I do." Angel replied, "She's fine now. She can help us."
Sighing, Wesley reached up to readjust his glasses on his nose, wondering if the whole world had gone mad or whether it was just him. He couldn't even look at Faith without remembering that dark night when she had tried to kill him. She would have succeeded too, he thought in horror, if Angel hadn't found him in time. The way she had spat her words out him, so vitriolic, so full of pain. He had wanted to end it all that night, only Angel had stopped him. And Faith being Faith, she had let him. Always determining what other people would do, so manipulative. That was the Faith he knew. This girl standing before him now with a sheepish expression on her face….well…he sighed, that was probably another one of her acts.
He turned from his thoughts to Angel, who was still standing near him with an expectant expression on his handsome face. Meeting his eyes, Wesley took a deep breath before speaking. "The only way she can help us, Angel, is to go away from here and not come back," he said in a low voice.
Angel opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, only able to watch as his friend turned and walked away.
Del Myers had just finished the treacle-like coffee that was long overdue; when he got the call that the shipment had arrived. Wearily, he got to his feet, hauling himself out of the rickety chair in the stain-filled room the dockworkers laughingly called their `restroom'.
Muttering to himself as he grabbed his heavy coat, he threw it over his shoulders, viciously shoving his arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up tight across his huge chest. In his youth, Del had been virile and healthy. But with middle age had come a rather more lenient attitude to life; too much beer and junk food had turned his stomach to a barrel-sized protuberance that his wife moaned about and he hated.
He pushed a calloused hand through his hair (at least he wasn't losin' that any time soon) and reached for the door, feeling the chilled night air closing in off the sea as soon as he opened it.
The docks were quiet. It was almost ten o'clock, and if it hadn't been for the promise of overtime pay, Del would be in the same dingy dockside bar as his co-workers, sinking a few frothy beers before heading home to his wife in their modest home just south of LA.
A mist was rolling in from the sea beyond. Its tendrils crept through the hulks of sleeping freighters to brush around his ankles as he made his way towards the grey shape looming darkly down on pier six. Del sighed and wished he'd put on his gloves; it was sure getting cold around here these days. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat instead, hoping that the paperwork with the captain wouldn't take too long. Licking his lips, he could practically taste the fizzed froth of his first beer.
Someone had lowered a gangplank from the ship. Del frowned, reaching up to scratch at his head like some playful caricature of a Neanderthal, the expression on his face matching his gestures perfectly. No one was around to do that, he thought to himself. The captain always waited. The captain was supposed to wait. This was…unusual…
Walking forwards, Del put a foot gingerly on the bottom of the gangplank, peering up into the misted darkness above. One hand came out from his pocket to grasp the roughened rope serving as a handrail. The wobble of his touch jiggled the length of the rope right up the to the side of the ship and back again. He frowned.
"Hello?" he called, "Captain? You there?"
In a second, the impending fog and the inky night that was fast surrounding him swallowed up his voice. A chill slithered down his spine as he realised that he was alone. Completely alone. The ghosted rails of the ship stretched from stern to bow, the metal echoing an emptiness that struck into Del's vast expanse of chest. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat as he squinted up, daring to take another step forward on the gangplank.
"Captain?" he called again, knowing in his heart of hearts that he would receive no reply.
"You won't find the captain on the ship." A lilting voice close to his ear made him spin round abruptly, almost losing balance. Behind him was a dark robed figure. A woman. Del noticed with some pleasure, that it was a very attractive woman.
She stood a similar height to himself, although her slender body was hidden beneath what looked like a black velvet cape, a hood hanging around her shoulders. Her face was pale, yet so finely chiselled that Del could have sworn it was made of porcelain, so flawless and smooth was its surface. Flowing dark hair hung from her head, shining ethereally in the dimness of the evening light. But it was her eyes that made Del stop and stare at her, his mouth agape. Two perfectly green orbs, set deep in her face, gazed at him, reaching inside to his very soul.
She was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
"I won't...?" he wanted to speak to her, but his voice sounded too rough, too uncouth. He realised with a rush of devotion that what he really wanted to do was fall on his knees and worship her with a hitherto undiscovered fervency. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Del was aware that he was having what could be termed `unusual' feelings; although these doubts were quickly smothered by his desire to pen songs of love, songs of beauty, songs that paid homage to her divine grace.
"The captain's not there," she said, moving slightly closer to him. She observed his trembling stance with a slight smile of her rose-red lips. A hand sneaked out from underneath her cape, reaching out to stroke his arm. The touch burned him like a thousand volts, yet still he didn't draw back. "No one's there," she added, tilting her head to one side. "But I'm here…and I need you."
"Yes," Del nodded firmly, knowing that only this mattered right now. This was what his life had been building up to, this very moment, those eyes, those lips, that face…all tumbling into one kaleidoscopic image fresh in his brain. "Yes you do."
"Kiss me," she sighed, drawing closer, so that he could catch her scent on the night breeze that lifted it tantalisingly and drifted it to his nostrils. His eyes fluttered shut as he breathed it in, his body leaning forward into her embrace. Before her lips closed on his, he thought he caught a glimpse of a yellow piercing gaze and a brutally ridged forehead before her mouth moved to his neck.
It was the last thing Del Myers ever saw.
Part 3
"What's her deal?" Cordelia jerked her head viciously towards Faith, who sat in the foyer of the hotel with a book on her lap. The dark Slayer had been sitting there for over an hour, the book still open at the same page it had been when she flopped onto the sofa. She was aware that she was being watched, indeed, the gimlet gaze of Cordelia hadn't escaped her attention. Faith felt like there were two hot little holes boring into her back.
She could hear every word Cordelia uttered in her manic stage whisper. Whilst one part of her blocked out the verbal attacks with memories of a happier time; another Slayer, two witches and some problem solving; she still felt her heart take a downward turn every time Cordelia's voice reached her. Oddly enough, she noticed, her mouth followed suit. Funny how people could hurt your feelings without even trying, she thought. Not that Cordelia had ever had to try that hard…
Wesley placed his hand on Cordy's arm, squeezing it gently. The two of them stood behind the counter in the foyer, eyes fixed firmly on the dark head of the Slayer, bent over her book. In the few days since she had arrived in LA, Wesley had tried to hold fire, wanting to observe and then judge. In his capacity as Faith's Watcher, he had never really got a handle of the girl, she had always been too fiery and impulsive for him to get anywhere near her. He had understood her reasons for turning herself into the police; Angel had filled him in on the Council's exploits in England (eliciting a certain jealousy from Wesley, Morgan Le Fay being one of his obsessions when studying with the Council); Faith herself had even talked a little about it the other night.
And still…he sighed to himself, removing his hand from Cordelia's taut arm, stretched out on the counter, still it seemed that Faith wasn't telling the whole story. He had never seen her so subdued, so pensive. It just wasn't like her to act this way. And, although he knew she was prone to playing games with people at the best of times, he wasn't altogether sure even she could keep up the act for this long without cracking.
Cordelia jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Alerted by pain and surprise, his wide eyes turned on her as she glared at him.
"What does she think she's doing?" she hissed, her mouth barely moving as she whispered loudly in some kind of grotesque ventriloquist's act.
"I'm not sure," he said slowly, under his breath. "Perhaps she's really trying this time, you know, to redeem herself?"
Cordelia shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I meant, what's she doing with that book? Last time I heard, Faith couldn't read a word. And that's one of Angel's own…" A look of distaste crossed her face as she spat out the rest of her sentence, "It's poetry."
Despite himself, Wesley couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face. "There's no law citing that a Slayer can't read poetry."
The dark girl's face once again contorted itself into something that resembled disgust as she turned away to drop into the chair behind the front desk. Shaking her head, she muttered underneath her breath and returned to work.
Wesley found his gaze moving back to Faith again. Without even thinking, he walked over towards the sofa and sat down opposite her, on the coffee table in front of the red settee. Faith was sitting cross-legged, the book resting in her lap, her hair hanging down on either side of her face. She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes once, then dropped her gaze to the open book in front of her. She hadn’t been reading it at all. But, she figured, sitting with a book on her lap covered up her meandering mind pretty well.
"Checkin' up on me?" her voice was low and restrained.
"I was…" Wesley realised that he had come to sit with her without the slightest inclination of what he was going to say. He pressed his lips together for a second whilst he reined in a potential list of babbling. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and tried again. "I was wondering if you would care for a cup of tea. I'm just about to make some."
Faith's head lifted, as a pair of clouded brown eyes met the ex-Watcher's with some confusion and amusement. A tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth as she surveyed his earnest expression with some scepticism.
"Making tea?" she echoed, "Making me tea?"
"Well…yes." Wesley tried a smile at her, seeing it reflected in her deep eyes.
Letting out a laugh, Faith shook her head. "What are ya gonna do Wes, put cyanide in it?" She leant back on the sofa, working a crick out of her neck from leaning forward for too long.
"Faith…"
She held up a hand to stop him from talking. "It's okay Wes, I know pretty much what you and Queen C over there think of me. And you know what, you're pretty damn well justified. I think it's gonna take more than a hot drink between us before things are five by five."
Wesley frowned, his eyes looking past the tough exterior to see, for just a second, the sorrowful girl sitting before him. For that moment, he was able to see that Faith had all but given up on him. She who had, and he knew this to be true, saved the life of a certain blonde Slayer without any thought for her own safety. He had mulled over that for a long time, spending several hours on the telephone to Mr Giles in order to truly understand what had happened. Knowing it was one thing, believing it was quite another. But in that tiny moment when Faith let her guard down, Wesley was almost convinced that Faith was indeed capable of change.
"I want to try, Faith," he said, leaning towards her.
She met his eyes briefly. Her lips curved upwards in a tight smile before it dropped from her lips again. "Me too," she whispered.
"So, about that tea?" Wesley stood up, brushing invisible dust from his trousers. He smiled down at Faith, who glanced up at him before returning to her book.
"I don't like tea." Her voice was flat, emotionless. The guard was back up.
He was halfway back to the office behind the front desk when her voice reached him.
"But I'd give anything for a good strong coffee."
A smile spread freely across his face before he disappeared inside the office.
Angel tossed and turned in his bed. His dreams, rarely so vivid, were beset by a figure he was sure he had known before. A deep-seated feeling inside him tugged at his unconscious mind, lifting his soul and flying him towards a green pasture that beckoned his memory on.
The rolling hills of his Irish homeland were as clear and rich as the day he had left Galway. He felt himself walking through green fields, across his father's land, to the hillside where he had often lain as a young boy. From his vantage point he could see down the field to the where the coast hooded the Atlantic, rugged and dangerous to those who didn't know it; welcoming and protective to those that did.
But he wasn't alone on the hillside.
Looking around, he saw her. The woman who had been in his dreams for the last week. He felt no fear of her, only a desire and muted longing for her nearness. She walked down the slope of the field to where he lay in the tall, thick grass, the blades hiding her feet so it looked as though she was gliding towards him. Perhaps she was; after all, he reminded himself, this was a dream. Wasn't it?
Just like the other dreams, she reached him and stood over him for a second, whilst the coastal wind took hold of her dark velvet cape, lifting it so that it seemed she had two huge black wings stretching from her sides.
Her face was as pale as her eyes were flaming. The two darkened orbs turned on him now, communicating such a passion and desire that his whole body was racked with an insatiable longing for her. He could not move; could not feel; his whole being cried out for her to take him and give him what she surely held in her hands. Slowly, he sat up, feeling the grass tickling against his palms as he pushed up from the ground. And she bent down to him, her closeness thrilling him. Smiling, her lips parted; suddenly her brow curled into the ridged familiarity and two fangs protruded from beneath her upper lip.
He awoke with a start, jerking upwards into the relative cold of his room, the shades drawn against the sun outside. His eyes were drawn to a thin beam of sunlight that refused to be shut out. Dust danced through the light, floating down towards the ground, playing with his eyes. He stared at it, confusion reaching across his face in threads of horror. He knew her. She was here.
"So I pulled the sword back and blam! Straight through the stomach!" Faith punctuated her speech with a hard fist slapping into the palm of her other hand. She looked across to where Wesley sat, on the other side of the coffee table, his face stopped in an expression of fear and wonderment. A grin covered Faith's lips as she leant forward, gripping the steaming cup of coffee in one hand, raising it to her lips and gulping deeply. She pulled a face at the taste and replaced the cup on the coffee table. "No sugar Wes?" she grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I like it sweet."
Wesley shook his head and mumbled an apology of some kind before his gaze snapped back up to the Slayer's face again. He held out a finger as though to make some moot point, but found that he was speechless in the throes of a vision that entailed Faith defeating Morgan Le Fay.
"Whassamatter Wes, cat got your tongue?" Faith grinned lazily, knowing that he was on the brink of some long involved explanation or something like that. Words had always been his strong point, she remembered, fighting was all tactics to him and nothing else. Fighting by the book had never appealed to Faith; her success was all down to improvisation. That and the fact that she'd never actually read a whole book in her life.
"Faith, you do realise the ramifications of your actions in England, do you not?" Wesley rested his elbows on his knees and joined his hands together, placing his head onto the clenched knuckles.
A frown crossed Faith's face and she shrugged, "I guess." Leaning back on the sofa, she crossed her legs and flicked her hair back over her shoulder. "Although I'd probably understand you better if you talked English....ramifi....what?"
Wesley disguised a tut of annoyance under his breath and started again slowly, talking deliberately, as though to a small child. "The one who can utilise..ah...use," he added, noting a look of confusion on Faith's face, "the sword of Excalibur is not only a chosen one, as you are; it also means that this person is pure of heart. Faith," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers, "you are truly redeemed, if ever a person needed to be."
The two brown orbs opposite his widened slightly, before a grin curled up their edges and danced light through them. "Cool!" Faith shrugged. "So I'm officially off the hook with the powers that be then?"
"Well," Wesley sat back in his seat, carefully crossing one leg over the other and reaching for his cup of tea, sipping it thoughtfully, "I would imagine that the debt can never be fully repaid. But your experiences in England certainly proved that you're on the right path." He noted the look of disappointment on Faith's face and tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, "However, I think you're building bridges quite successfully, if Mr Giles' report is anything to go by. You saved Buffy's life. That's no mean feat, by any stretch of the imagination."
Faith's eyes clouded at the mention of the other Slayer and she found that she was unable to meet Wesley in the eye. Looking around the foyer, she tried to keep images of Buffy from her mind. Just like she'd been trying to push those pictures away ever since she'd come to LA. The one true moment of peace she'd found in her whole life and she'd run away from it. Often, she wondered if she was too intent on punishing herself; that she made herself a pariah from everything good and pure. As her gaze drifted around the dusty hotel reception area, she was beset with images of Buffy's face on that morning when she'd left. No, she told herself, that was a good decision to make; it was the right decision to make. Buffy would understand, she thought to herself, she would come to know it was the only choice she'd had at the time.
Faith found that she was staring over in the direction of Cordelia. Absent-mindedly, she found her gaze roaming over the body of the girl as she sat reading at the reception desk. Cordelia might have a new `do' and she might be a few years older, but she still had that `prom queen' poise, Faith thought, a tiny grin forming in the back of her mind. She had always wanted to break down that facade, just to see what was underneath. She was betting it was something wild and untamed...which was what made Cordelia all the more attractive.
Suddenly, Cordelia's eyes snapped up to meet Faith's, aware that she was being watched. As their eyes met, an expression of shame and embarrassment leapt into the pools of brown checking her out. Cordelia tightened her lips into a hard line and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice as brittle as dry leaves, falling on Faith's ears.
"Uh..." For perhaps the second or third time in her life, Faith was lost for words. She'd been checking Cordelia out! Like, in a sexual way! The Slayer wasn't sure whether to be proud or disgusted.
"You know, staring isn't polite, but then, I guess you're still not big on manners are you Faith?"
Faith settled for disgusted.
Wesley got to his feet, shaking his head. "Cordelia, really," he shot a sympathetic look down at Faith, who was by now gazing down at her lap, twisting her fingers together.
"What?" Cordy sighed, "Listen Wesley, she might be able to impress you with killing demons and witches –"
"Sorceress Cordelia, one of the most powerful the world has ever known," Wesley interjected, his patience wearing thin.
"Whatever," Cordy dismissed him with a wave of her manicured fingers, "But she's still Faith and we all know what that means." She cast a glance towards Faith, who looked back at her, a clear unblinking gaze of confusion. Cordelia, knowing that if she stayed she was going to have to explain herself, turned on her heel and stalked into the office behind the desk.
Wesley turned to Faith, an apologetic expression covering his face. Sometimes, he thought to himself, Cordelia really did have a way of putting things that didn't exactly help matters. If ever he had needed convincing of Faith's change of heart, the hurt look that was carving itself into her features did just that. He leant forward, holding out a hand of reassurance to the dark Slayer, who was pushing her legs from the sofa, bending over onto them, fists clenching and unclenching on her lap.
"Faith," he began, his voice low and soothing, "Cordelia doesn't – "
"No Wes," Faith cut him off, her eyes rising to meet his from underneath a curtain of black hair. A fire lit them with bronze that flashed her mouth into a sneer. Her voice was no more than a whisper, "She does. She means every word." In a second, Faith was up from her seat, pacing with heavy long strides towards the office where Cordelia had disappeared.
The woman in question had begun rifling through some papers on the far table in the office. She had felt slightly guilty over her harsh treatment of Faith, but, she reminded herself, as her father always used to tell her, everyone got what they deserved sooner or later. A wry smile crooked her mouth as she thought about her father; he had got what he deserved hadn't he? As had the rest of the family, by default. Still, she placated herself, reaching for a pencil from the desk, she hadn't done that badly when all was said and done. She'd managed to get herself a job (even if it was working for the undead) and she'd inherited something that no one else had. The voice of her father again crept into her head. He'd always told her she was special –
"Okay Cordelia," the voice was right behind her. Spinning round, pencil in hand like some kind of toy weapon, Cordy found herself practically face to face with Faith. A rather angry, hurt and extremely close Faith. A gasp shot from Cordelia's perfectly made-up mouth.
Faith felt her fists still clenching down by her sides. Gritting her teeth and counting to at least five before speaking again, she felt the anger pounding in her temples. She always used to give in to it, but this time, well....lately, she had been keeping it under control. Almost.
"Come on then Prom Queen," she said in a low growl of a voice, "You wanna take a pop at me?"
Cordelia frowned slightly, pushing the pencil between her teeth. The edge of fear was trickling its way down her back, edging towards her knees. But she held firm. After all, she told herself, she'd faced worse things than an angry and possibly psychotic Slayer. Okay, she couldn't quite remember what they were right now, but still....
"I want to...what?" she asked, straining to keep her voice on an even keel.
"You know," Faith said, "You've been prickin' me with that sharp tongue of yours since I got here. Wanna just go right ahead and push the blade in? Make me sorry I was ever born? `Cause you know, I was kind of doing okay with that myself."
"Faith, really..." Cordelia took a step back, her heart sinking when she felt the hard edge of the table behind her. She waved the pencil around in front of her and tried to sound carefree. "I mean, if you want to come back here with your `sorries' and your `I've changed' that's fine. But don't think I've forgotten what you're really like."
"Oh I don't Cordelia, you just won't let me will you?" Faith inched forwards, almost enjoying the look of consternation that flickered through Cordelia's eyes. "I live with it every day, Prom Queen. I have to wake up and go to sleep knowing what I did and how much I hurt people. I have to talk to those people and see the look in their eyes when I'm near them. Do you know how that feels? Do you think I don't know how much you all feel about me? Just waitin' for me to go back to the way I was? So if you wanna take a pop at me, then come on." Faith stood back, holding out her arms, her head held back defiantly, whilst her eyes darkened to the colour of sienna. "Come on Cordelia, go ahead. Give it your best shot."
"What?" Cordelia dropped the pencil, her hands reaching for the edge of the table, gripping it tightly. Her mouth turned down slightly in disgust, "I'm not hitting you Faith, I know that's what you want."
"Oh no..." Faith snorted a mirthless laugh, "I don't want you to hit me Cordelia, like that would make a difference. No, why don't you do what you do best. Why don't you just say everything you wanna say to me, get it over and done with, then you'll never have to talk to me again. I promise."
Cordelia shook her head, trying not to look at the raw emotion crossing the dark Slayer's face. For some reason, Faith's simple plea had held her attention. All the hurtful comments that had sprung to her lips had faded away. She wanted to repay Faith for the rifts that she had driven amongst people Cordelia considered her friends, she really did. But somehow, the Faith standing in front of her here wasn't the same young woman she had hated all those years ago. It confused her. And Cordelia hated being confused.
"I don't want to...." she began, but Faith stepped forward again, this time so close that Cordelia could feel the other girl's breath on her cheek, their bodies almost touching. It was electrifying, the tension that passed between them like voltage. She took an audible breath at the same time that Faith's eyes drifted to her lips. Looking up, the two girls locked gazes.
"Faith!"
The voice in the doorway made the dark Slayer spin round. Angel framed the doorway, his shirt buttoned up the wrong way and his hair dishevelled. He looked between the two girls before his gaze rested on Faith.
"She's here," he said. "She's in LA."
Part 4
Angel sat on the sofa in the foyer of the hotel, uncharacteristically ruffled. His usual relaxed demeanour had disappeared, in itself enough to alert the three figures gathered around him. Looking between them, he wondered if he'd perhaps chosen a bad time to interrupt whatever the humans he lived with did in the daylight hours when he was sleeping.
Faith had slumped into the chair opposite him, whilst Cordelia stood, arms folded like an impenetrable shield in front of her, to one side of the sofa. Wesley, his gaze flicking nervously between the two women, occasionally glanced towards Angel. The British ex-Watcher's face held concern and not a little relief at Angel's sudden appearance.
"Angel?" Wesley prompted, looking down at the vampire who sat on the sofa, head bent forwards; arms leaning on his legs.
Looking up, Angel frowned and pushed a hand through his tousled hair. "Wes, Cordelia, Faith," he began, making sure that he had their undivided attention, "Something bad is coming." The tone of his voice made Faith jerk her head back, as though hit.
"Oh please, tell me when it's not!" Cordelia sighed loudly and shifted from one foot to another.
Wesley shot her a sharp look, which silenced her, but didn't take the expression from her face. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Angel's considered tone had scared her. Wesley leaned in closer to Angel. "What exactly is it?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"I've had dreams...." Angel began, "She's in my dreams."
"You mean like Darla was? Is it some sort of witchcraft, a spell or something?" Wesley was intrigued and not a little disturbed. He well remembered all the trouble Darla had caused when she had pushed her way into Angel's sleeping moments.
Angel shook his head, sighing and leaning back on the sofa, briefly closing his eyes before speaking again. "No....no, this is different. I'm dreaming of my home. Where I used to live, before..." he trailed off again, wiping a hand over his face, then lowering his tone almost reverently, "before I was a vampire."
"Ireland?" Wesley asked, knowing the answer. Angel nodded silently, lowering his head again, leaning forward onto his knees.
"So you're having past life flashbacks?" Faith spoke for the first time, drawing three pairs of eyes onto her. "Which means what? That you're sorry for what you did there?" She knew better than most what trouble flashbacks could cause; it wasn't as though she'd never had any herself. And they all spelled out trouble, with a capital T. Things got way too confusing.
"It's not that." Angel said softly, his eyes meeting the dark Slayer's briefly. "There was a legend when I was growing up, something that no one really believed in; it was told to keep young men focused on a life of hard work. Dreaming was something none of us could afford to do."
"Although you did, right?" Faith asked, receiving a curt nod from Angel as an answer. Hell, she couldn't blame him for that. She'd spent most of her formative years dreaming of a time when she wouldn't be beaten for sleeping, for waking, for breathing…
"I spent most of my days in a dissolute state, wondering how I could avoid actually doing anything apart from spending my father's money," the vampire continued, "I was warned about the legend, I mean, I was told that unless I found myself a better way of spending my days and nights, I would be visited by the Leanan Sidhe."
"The Le...what?" Cordelia asked, moving forward to sit beside Angel, her interest piqued.
"The Leanan Sidhe." Wesley repeated, clicking with familiar abruptness into a walking, talking, reference library. "A demonic female who offered inspiration to dreamers. In return for what she gave them, she took their essence. She takes the form of a vampire, although she can be seen in spirit form in the daylight hours. She was quite, quite dangerous in her day, although I believe at one point she was bound by magic of some sort. But," he frowned, "She's only found in Ireland, isn't that right Angel?"
The vampire nodded. "That's what I thought too Wes. But…" he sighed briefly and shook his head, "She's here. I feel it. I know it."
"So let's find her and stake her!" Faith got to her feet and planted her hands firmly onto her hips. "How hard can it be? I mean, she's just a vamp ain't she?"
Angel held up a hand, "No, I wish it were that simple Faith," he said, "The Leanan Sidhe isn't just a vampire. She's very seductive, I mean, she knows exactly what every man wants and offers it to him just so that he falls under her spell. It was the way of the poet to want her inspiration; her Muse." His voice dropped to no more than a whisper, "She drives men insane, then goes looking for another victim. Without her victim, she is nothing. She's driven on by humanity itself; always wanting to reach for what it doesn't have."
"The idea of true inspiration being in the hands of a goddess-like figure," Wesley murmured, "It's a classic idea. One that has haunted humanity through the ages. No wonder she's lasted this long."
"Hold it," Cordelia stepped forward, her hand in the air, cutting through the almost mystical aura that Angel and Wesley's hushed tones had produced, "This spirit or vampire or whatever she is...she's been around this long...why the heck would she choose now to come to LA?"
Angel blew out his cheeks and leant back in his seat. "That's what we need to find out."
"Well you're the one she's visiting in dreamland, Angel." Faith said, almost dismissively. She cocked her head to one side, "How come you get the flying visits?"
"Uh..." Angel looked around the three pairs of eyes watching him carefully, "I sort of...well, I kind of know her."
She drew herself back into the shadows and pulled her cloak around her, making sure that no one was likely to see her in the dark recesses of the warehouse. She'd hidden here as the first glimmer of light had crept over the ocean, lapping sunlight upon the port as the tide came in. Anger had welled up inside her; she was furious with herself for not leaving sooner, for not finding some other place to hide the day away. Although she could walk amongst the mortals, her spirit was weakened. She needed something more substantial, something of beauty, something of vision.
The body of that man she had drained was sure to be found as soon as his workmates arrived. She had known that. Although, she thought, a grim smile splitting her pale lips underneath a pair of luminous eyes, the cargo that awaited them on the ship she had left was a more gruesome sight than one lonely dock worker, still lying where he had fallen, his neck pierced with two sharp fangs.
She licked her lips and closed her eyes, a shiver running through her body at the memory of how good he had tasted. Human blood was always so filling, always such a rush. And when she found one of true purity, then it was an elixir. She had missed it, in her exile on the island. Those people, she grimaced, how dare they bind her for centuries on the island where she had no means of escape! And how she had plotted and burned and cursed...for years and years, until her saviour had appeared, unexpectedly, to set her free.
Pulling herself backwards against the hard brick of the wall, she closed her eyes and let the memory dance before her like a seductive female, twisting and turning around, pulling at her with tempting flesh and the caress of a mere whisper. Angel, he had called himself. The one with the angelic features. And he had broken her magical chains and set her free, to roam one more the wild lands and highlands of Ireland; her spiritual home.
Angel, she whispered to herself, Angel. He would set her free once more.
"You did what?" Cordelia walked around to stand in front of Angel and folded her arms again. Her eyebrows reached up to her hairline as she shook her head. "You set her free? I mean, of all the stupid...." She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Typical male, vampire or not. You're all the same."
Faith stood up and cast a grin of reprove towards a decidedly downcast Angel, "Gotta admit big guy, Prom Queen's got a point. In what crazy freakin' world did you think that letting some nightmare bitch loose was a good idea?"
"I wasn't myself at the time," Angel mumbled, not daring to meet the gimlet gaze of Cordelia, bearing down upon him, "Darla had gone off on one of her European jaunts and I was..." he stopped, almost biting his tongue in shame.
"You were lonely." Wesley finished for him, casting a glance up to the heavens. "Loneliness can drive some men to do odd things, but...."
"Angel, don't you think that maybe your past relationship history would have told you that you and women are not a good idea?" Cordelia moved to perch on the edge of the sofa. She watched as Angel turned his soulful eyes on her for a moment, before pursing his lips together and dropping his head again. "You know, it's at times like this that I'm happy being single," she stated.
Faith let out an explosion of laughter that quickly turned into a cough as she felt Cordelia's eyes turn towards her. The Slayer spun around, walking away to the other side of the foyer where the reception desk was, to avoid dealing with that little confession. She'd sort out the Cordelia problem later. Now though, she thought with a rising anticipation, now there was something to solve. Something bad. She might even prove useful. Her spirits lifted slightly, as she frowned, turning to face the group once more.
"So what do we do?" she asked, watching as Angel pulled himself together, sitting back on the sofa. His eyes met hers and he half-smiled, knowing how hard she was trying. "I mean, we gotta get her, right?"
"I don't recall ever reading about a way to bind her." Wesley put a finger to his chin and rubbed absent-mindedly. He frowned, looking across at Angel. "Did you find out how she was bound in the first place?"
Angel shook his head slowly, "She wasn't the kind of woman who went into detail." Seeing the reaction of the others, he added quickly, "She attaches herself to a man, body and soul. I'm guessing it took more magic than we've ever experienced."
"A man?" Faith walked forward, her eyes alight with sudden interest. "Well, that gives me an in."
Cordelia let her eyes sweep up and down the muscular body of the Slayer. "So says you," she muttered.
"Cordelia, I swear, when I get through with this – " Faith began, but was cut off by Wesley standing up, holding his hand in the air like a referee.
"All right you two," he said firmly, "let's just stop this. We really do have more important issues to think about. We need to find this spirit first of all," his gaze returned to the disconsolate vampire on the sofa, "Angel, how do we do that?"
Angel looked up at his friend, not wanting to give them any more reason to resent him. Hell, he could do that all by himself just fine. The guilt that always seeped into everything he did was raging like wildfire through his cold veins, colouring all his thoughts with a deep sense of sorrow. Blinking once, he took a breath before answering. "I think she'll find us," he said.
Part 5
The hotel was dark as evening approached. Each of the inhabitants had withdrawn to their own space, in order to wait, research, or simply think. Angel's revelation hadn't shocked them per se, it had just unnerved them. They all knew that his past was forever catching up with him; they knew too, that his resolve to free himself from those chains was what gave them all the inspiration to remain with him. He offered them hope that, at times, was the only thing they truly believed in.
As twilight dimmed the corners of the windows in Faith's room, she tucked her arms behind her head and watched the crimson sunset pale to a bruised purple, colouring a shade of darkness into her gaze. She had learned in prison to be more reflective; at times, the only thing she had had to do was sit and think. It gave her the time she needed, she thought, looking back. Painful as it was, sometimes thinking offered her the opportunity to respond to the old her. She knew she had changed (God knows, it was a respite from the old her) but she also recognised the need to continue with that.
Sighing slightly, Faith closed her eyes, and a smile flickered across her lips, before settling itself firmly in her mind. She remembered that day when Angel had visited her in prison and she had talked about Buffy. He had known what was going on with her, of course he had. And he'd had the greatness of nature to not judge her on it. Buffy would always be a contentious subject with him, always. She knew that. That's why; when he had asked her how it had gone in Sunnydale, a look had been enough.
Exorcising past ghosts was Angel's speciality, Faith thought to herself. And now it was fast becoming hers. All she had done, all she had been through, all the hurt she had caused…. none of that would ever completely go away, no matter how many lives she saved, or promises she made, or…she grimaced slightly, how many times she felt the love surge inside of her. Loving Buffy was, she realised, the only thing that had got her though that time in prison. That need inside of her to make things right. And she had. But at what cost? To make Buffy unhappy again? To cause her pain?
Angel had told her that she couldn't think about that; that making herself feel bad because she had dared to love wasn't the right way. Only, Faith had always known that loving Buffy would be hard. Just quite how hard though, she hadn't even realised. The picture of the blonde Slayer's face drifted into her mind again, for the umpteenth time in as many days. Buffy would understand, she told herself, that mantra coursing through her head as tonelessly as the peal of a death-knell. Buffy would understand.
Sitting up on her bed, Faith stretched and worked out a kink in her neck. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to greet the impending night. Setting her mouth into a hard line, she swung her legs off the bed and walked towards the door. Time to work.
Upon reaching the foyer, Faith was aware that the hotel was more deathly silent than usual, if that was possible. This place, she thought, casting a look around the marbled floors and dated décor, it was so quiet and peaceful. No one would think that it housed a vampire, a Slayer, an ex-Watcher and a visionary of the energy that linked mankind.
Thoughts of Cordelia filtered into her head. She frowned, biting at her bottom lip. She could understand why Cordy was such a bitch, hell, of course she could. But what Faith failed to comprehend was why Cordy was being such a bitch to her. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried to be nice; it wasn't as though her recent experiences didn't speak volumes.
Faith turned the corner of the office doorway and saw Cordelia sitting at the desk inside, typing furiously on the computer, then sitting back and watching the results. She shrugged, Cordelia obviously wasn't listening.
Walking slowly around the office, Faith let her fingers drift over volumes of demonology texts, occasionally opening the cover of one, flicking through the pages of another. She stopped to touch the petals of a vase of flowers, even going so far as to lean forward and sniff them. Finally, she found a clear space on the broad counter that spanned one side of the room, and lifted herself up onto it, sitting quietly.
Without looking up from the computer screen, Cordelia's mouth tightened into a line and she sighed, ever so briefly, before speaking. "Can I help you?"
Faith's attention jerked back to the figure sitting at the desk. In her pensive reverie, she had almost forgotten that Cordelia was there. "Nope," she answered, going back to looking around the room.
Cordelia finally cast a baleful glance over at Faith, then hit the keys with intent as she brought up another screen on the Internet. "You're putting me off," she said, as the screen brought up `page not found'.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to." Faith shrugged. "Want me to go?" She jumped down off the counter and shoved her hands into her pockets. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the floor; Cordelia's gaze was more intimidating than that old witch Le Fay's, she thought mirthlessly.
"Do what you like Faith, you usually do." Cordelia's voice was hard and flat. She didn't even look over at the dark Slayer as she turned to leave, then stopped, turning round with a drawn, painful expression.
"Why do you hate me?"
"What?" Now Cordelia stopped typing and looked up at Faith, her eyes wide, face confused by the unexpected question, expressed with such a tone of pleading that it bewildered the girl. She shook her head, as though to rid her mind of the fact that Faith could sound so distressed and sat back in her chair. "What did you say?" she repeated.
"Doesn't matter what I do does it?" Faith pushed her hands even deeper into her pockets and chewed on her bottom lip again, the words not coming easily. "I mean, me pretty much breathing pisses you off doesn't it?"
"I…"
"I mean, yeah, I know I did all that shit. I know I was wrong. But I've really tried to…you know…I want to change that. And…seems like everyone knows it but you." Faith was trying hard to keep a hold on what she was saying. Her heart was pounding with the effort. "So what is it? What do I have to do? I mean…tell me and I'll do it. I don't wanna….you know….it's not good for me being here if you don't…" she stopped, pausing for breath, raising her eyes heavenward. She opened her mouth to start again then shut it audibly. "Oh, forget it," she muttered, turning to walk away again.
She was halfway to the door when Cordelia's voice froze her in her tracks.
"I'm scared of you."
As the words fell into her head and jumbled around in lots of ways, all meaning the same thing, Faith felt a deep disappointment and sadness creep all the way up her spine, mixing with Cordelia's voice in her mind. Turning ever so slowly, she met the other girl's eyes. Cordelia was standing up now, leaning against the desk, her mouth slightly open, a fearful expression colouring her face.
"You. Scared. Of….of me?" Faith wanted to laugh. She wanted to briskly shove this stupid conversation under the carpet and move on. But she knew she couldn't. Couldn't ever.
"Yeah," Cordelia nodded, looking in trepidation at the anxiety that was deepening Faith's eyes to a dark husk of brown. "You and your power….Faith, I know what that's like. I know what it feels like to have something inside you that you can't control. These visions I have, well, it's kind of like that. I didn't ask for it and God knows, I don't always like it. And Angel," Cordelia emphasised his name with a sweep of her hand, "I know it's like that for him too. It's all because of some higher power which is good but…" she trailed off, her eyes suddenly sad and full of the weight of the world, "it scares me."
"But I'm not…" Faith took a step forward, then halted as she saw Cordelia imperceptibly draw back. Holding up a hand, she nodded, "Okay, okay…I know I can't make you understand it. I know I can't convince you that I've changed. But Cordelia, you don't need to be afraid of me. I mean…God!" she laughed, tinged with bitterness and shame. The burning of tears in the back of her throat angered and embarrassed her, and she withdrew even more.
"Faith, don't think I don't know you try. Angel and Wesley are quite insistent about that," Cordelia's eyes flickered across to the Slayer, then down again to the floor. Anywhere than look at the way Faith was fighting the emotions that threatened to rip through her. "But they weren't there. They didn't see what you did, to us, to all of us. You ripped us apart then went off merrily on your own way, doing whatever it was you do."
"I know but…"
"No," Cordelia held up her hand, "You don't know. You don't understand. Having these visions makes me see a whole lot more about the world than I think I want to. I don't like it. The way people are," the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust, "the way humanity tries to constantly destroy what is good and pure. And you know Faith, I can see you in all of that. What you did; what you became. It's just not easy to erase that picture. And I still see it."
Faith hung her head, unable to hear anything but the condemnation Cordelia was throwing at her so succinctly. She felt the darkness of the night seep into her, through her very core. And it felt worse than she had ever imagined or remembered.
"I know that The Powers That Be have brought you back here for some reason." Cordelia's voice continued, steady and sure, although with a hint of resentment and not a little fear. "But it doesn't stop me getting scared that one day you'll go back to what you were."
Lifting her head, Faith swallowed back the humiliation and spoke at last. "I fight it every day, Cordelia," she said, her voice hoarse. "Every minute of every day. It's always there." She took another step closer to the girl, "I wanna do things right, you know? I wanna make it…" she searched in frustration for the right word, coming up empty, "I wanna make it right, you know? And I just don't know how to…"
Cordelia opened her mouth to speak as Faith took another step towards her, then slammed her palm against her temple, bending over as a searing pain flashed through her head. Everything went black for a second, and then the picture flooded her senses. Darkness. Light. Beauty. Pure, unbridled pleasure….she gasped at the emotions ravaging her body, losing balance.
Leaping forwards, Faith moved without thinking and took Cordelia into her arms as the other girl writhed in pain. The dark Slayer held Cordy up in her strong grip as she watched, frightened, as Cordelia's eyes rolled back in her head, revealing only two pools of white, shot through with blood red threads.
"Hey!" she shouted, to whomever might hear her, "Hey! Quickly! In here!" Panic overcame her as she too, slumped to the floor, holding Cordelia as she did so, softening the fall. Leaning against the hard wood of the desk, Faith moved Cordelia so that she was cradling her against her own body, the other girl muttering and whimpering in pain.
Footsteps sounded through the foyer, as Wesley and Angel appeared in the door. They quickly moved over to where Faith and Cordelia were, held in an embrace, the Slayer's eyes wide and fearful, Cordelia's face contorted and full of suffering.
"What the fuck is happening to her?" Faith gasped, looking up at Angel as he bent down and took Cordelia gently into his own arms.
Wesley offered a hand to Faith, helping her to her feet, as Angel walked Cordelia out of the office and set her down onto the sofa. "She's having a vision," he stated firmly, "It gets like this sometimes; she can hardly see. It's not pleasant but you know," he half-shrugged, "it's her gift."
Faith followed him as they exited the office and moved to where Angel was sitting, his arm around Cordelia. He was murmuring to her in a low voice, words of comfort and reassurance, although Cordelia was hardly hearing them, slumped against him whilst she sobbed into his shoulder.
"Some gift." Faith shook her head, taking a few deep breaths. "Kinda freaked me out there."
Wesley shot her a tiny smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He could see Faith turning a corner…albeit a very large and rather painful one, but, as he always told himself, true sacrifice never came easily. He put out his hand and squeezed her arm gently. "She's used to it, Faith."
"Man, I don't think I could ever get used to that." Faith dropped into the chair opposite the sofa, her eyes never once leaving the figure of the girl in Angel's arms. "Not me."
"Cordelia?" Wesley crouched down and put his hand tentatively onto the girl's knee. She flinched slightly and sniffed, lifting her head from Angel's embrace. "What did you see?" he asked her, looking into her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face.
She looked at him for a second, before turning to gaze at Angel, an expression of wonder on her face. Then her gaze swung around to where Faith sat, and she watched as the dark Slayer squirmed before her eyes. She reached up and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose, sniffing again. The pain was beginning to subside now, leaving her with only a snapshot image of what she had seen. But that was enough; she knew that. It was always enough.
"It's her. The Leanan…whatever…" she said, her voice trembling with the memory. "It's definitely her and, oh Angel," she turned to the vampire with a wonder in her eyes, "she's so beautiful. There's so much beauty in her. But she's…" she gulped as another wave of tears threatened to fall, "She's looking for you Angel; she's looking for her saviour."
Part 6
Angel leant forward, his arms resting firmly on his legs. His head hung down as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sometimes that rung more true than even he was prepared to admit. He hoped that The Powers That Be knew what they were doing; he sure hadn’t had much luck with reconciling his past and his present so far, never mind his future.
A tiny snort of mirthless laughter escaped his lips. Future. What kind of a word was that to use when he was an ageless demon with a soul? He had no future for himself, only the countless others that crossed his path in this world. And hopefully, the next.
“Hey.”
Looking up, he saw Faith sit down opposite him, her face a picture of concern. He offered her a smile that he didn’t really feel, sitting back slightly on the worn leather sofa in the hotel foyer. Since Cordelia’s vision, he knew that Faith had been tiptoeing around, not wanting to get in the way. She had watched with something akin to horror, as he and Wesley had attended to Cordy, the dark Slayer’s eyes wide and uncomprehending of the power ripping through the once detached girl. It was as though Faith was seeing Cordelia for the first time. Angel knew how that felt.
The young woman sitting across the table from him had changed so much, although she was the only one who couldn’t see it. Well, he reminded himself, maybe not the only one, but Cordy would come round sooner or later. From the looks of things between them at present, Angel decided firmly on the ‘later’ option.
“So…what’s the plan?” Faith said, her leather trousers creaking slightly as she lifted her legs up beneath her on the armchair.
“No plan.” Angel replied, his bloodless heart sinking as he knew the only task they had was to wait.
“You know, if this spirit, vampire, or whatever she is turns up and we’re not ready…could be kinda hard to do anything about it.” Faith said, a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and shrugged, “I just wanna do what’s right, you know?”
Angel nodded. Oh he knew. More than most, he knew. His desire to set the balance right was greater at times like this. The longing inside of him to redress the mistakes he’d made throughout his life, and afterwards, was sometimes more than he thought he could ever bear.
“I don’t know how to be ready,” he said, in simple defeat. He leant forward, elbows planted firmly on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands. “I don’t know how to bind her again. I mean…I wasn’t that interested in keeping her under control the first time, if you get my meaning.”
Faith nodded. A curt nod of understanding, but a nod all the same. “Angel, you can’t give up. There’s gotta be a way,” she said, her mouth a firm determined line across her face, framed by two luminous eyes of worry.
He smiled at her. “I know Faith, but I’m not that well versed in ancient magicks. The kind of power we’re talking about has been passed down through the annals of time; it’s not something that’s acquired. It’s innate. Always has been. I can’t cast a spell like that.”
“And you don’t know anyone who can, right?” she grinned at him, “A guy with your connections? Well hell Angel, what’s this town coming to?”
A weak grin crossed his face at her feeble joke and he sat up. “I’m not sure if anyone can cast those kinds of spells anymore. It would take so much more power than Wesley and I could summon between us.” The smile on his face dropped away, “And we don’t know how powerful the Leanan Sidhe is. We just…” his voice trailed away as he caught sight of something behind Faith. The expression that flitted through his eyes spoke of an old longing, something that flashed yellow for a split second before he jumped to his feet, his gaze fixed on the doorway to the hotel.
Scrambling off the chair, Faith whirled around to follow the vampire’s line of sight. Her mouth opened as she began to comprehend his countenance of abject horror.
She stood, tall and distinguished, at the top of the stairs leading down to the foyer. Soundless and dark as the night that followed her arrival, the Leanan Sidhe surveyed her surroundings, her green eyes sparkling in anticipation. As her head moved around and she took in the two figures standing in front of her, a change rippled over her features. The pale skin, translucent and clear like porcelain, faded into a dark grey that flooded all her features. Ridges forged their furrows across her face, moving her brow, pressing her cheeks outward. Only her eyes remained the same, intense and gleaming.
It seemed as though the foyer suddenly darkened and the lights went out. Faith found that she couldn’t look anywhere but at the two glowing orbs that were fixed on her. Clenching her fists by the side of her body, the Slayer realised that she was almost unable to move, so overpowering was the gaze of the vampire that now stood before her. In the darkness, she felt a strange tugging at her, deep inside, whilst a soft voice whispered in her ear; a voice that caressed her inner senses like gossamer in summertime. Deliriously pleasurable sensations began creeping up and down Faith’s body, feelings that she hadn’t experienced since –
“Faith!”
Wesley, appearing from the side office with Cordelia, rushed over to the Slayer and grabbed her by the shoulders, blocking her view of the Leanan Sidhe. He shook the girl violently, his teeth gritted, lips drawn back almost in a snarl. “Faith, please! Snap out of it!” he demanded, jolting her body back and forth until he saw some recognition in her eyes. “Don’t look at her, dammit! Look at me, Faith! At me!”
The girl’s head jerked sickeningly with his movements, and for a second he thought that her neck would just snap clean through with the ferocity of his grip on her. Her mouth opened and her eyes turned to him, the brown flooding with a deep russet, pupils shrinking back from him, then widening to embrace reality again. A sigh escaped her; it was as though she had just been revived.
“Faith?” Wesley leaned in closer, only to have the Slayer shake off his grip with a swift move of her arms, coming up in between them to push his hands from her shoulders. He wanted to smile, but found that his face was petrified in a stark expression of concern. “Faith?” he asked again, “Are you ok?”
She shook her head, “Jeez, what the…” Memories tumbled from her mind and she found that her sight had cleared. A shudder went through her as she recalled all the emotions that had burst through every sense. So seductive, so all consuming…but, her mouth turned down with disgust, so shameful. “Ew, now that’s a place I know I don’t wanna go back to,” she muttered, looking up at the ex-Watcher’s eyes in relief.
“She almost had you.” Wesley whispered, as he reached up and squeezed her shoulder gently. “She almost had you…”
“Yeah, but she didn’t.” Faith asserted firmly, moving him to one side and looking up, not at the pair of green eyes that beckoned her, but at the darkness of the flowing cape and jet-black tresses adorning a demonic face. “No one look at her eyes!” she shouted, to whomever might be listening. A quick check of the others convinced her that they were safe; Wesley moved over to pull Cordelia, still reeling from her vision aftershock, to relative safety behind the reception desk. She turned to look at Angel, almost recoiling at his vamped-out face. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as his breathing shallowed out audibly. He closed his eyes once, straining with the effort of keeping himself still and stoic. Faith knew in that moment that it was up to her. He was useless against the thrall of the Leanan Sidhe too.
“What do you want?” Faith asked loudly.
The figure on the steps laughed, a tinkling sound that was like music. Gritting her teeth, Faith pressed her fists against her thigh, daring herself not to look up. Don’t look up. Mustn’t look up.
“Dear girl….I only want to give you what you want.” The voice was soft and lilting, carrying the echo of a land far away, of green fields and blue summer skies. “You can taste my pleasure in your soul can’t you? You can feel how it could make you so much finer than you are right now. And that’s what you want isn’t it? To be free again? To be truly content?” Moving, but strangely unmoving, the figure glided down the steps to stand closer to Faith. Her nearness shifted the Slayer, her knees trembled with the power she sensed tugging at her once more.
Dammit Faith, this is your chance, she told herself. Be strong, for Angel. Angel needs you to be strong. Don’t blow this.
“I don’t want that from you.” She wished her voice sounded as clear and strong as it had in her head. “None of us do,” she added.
“Really?” The spirit moved closer to her, craving eye contact. A slender finger reached out and trailed its way down Faith’s cheek. The Slayer closed her eyes, the touch burning like molten wax down the side of her face. Pressing her lips together, she felt them tremble, bumping against one another like the thoughts tumbling through her head.
“You know you crave me, Faith,” the spirit whispered in her ear, the breath rushing indiscriminately into her brain and out again, leaving behind only a wanting, a needing that the dark Slayer found so tempting. “You know only I can give you what you want. And all it takes is your soul. Your mortal soul. Which,” a note of imperious pleasure crept into the spirit’s voice, “is less than worthless anyway. I know you, Slayer. I know who you are, what you’ve done and what you’ve become. Come with me and I’ll show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams. And they are wild, aren’t they Faith? Nights spent tossing and turning, waiting for the right moment, wondering when it’s your time.” Another finger seared a pathway down the taut muscles of Faith’s cheek. “Now is your time, Faith. Just be with me. Be,” the voice was close to her ear again, “with me.”
“Leave her alone.” The strangled tones of Angel reached Faith, only just pulling her back from the abyss into which she wanted to throw herself. His face as she had last seen it flashed into her mind, firming up her resolve, solidifying her weakening spirit.
“Angel.”
Faith felt the spirit move past her and behind her, the tendrils of her presence ripping themselves away from her now trembling body. Opening her eyes, Faith saw Cordelia and Wesley, looking terrified and fearful, at the figures behind her.
“Leave her alone.” Angel repeated, enunciating every syllable as he struggled with the demon inside of him, roaring to be set free once more.
The Leanan Sidhe smiled, her perfect rose-red lips hideously incongruous in her vampiric face. She looked into the eyes of her saviour, appraised his form, his familiar scent…then stopped. Her smile dropped instantly and her eyes flashed angrily. She took a step closer to him, leaning in. A look of disgust crossed her features, rippling through the deep ridges on her forehead, tainting the colour of her eyes to a deep emerald.
“What happened? Angel? My saviour?” The questions crept from her lips in a whine that rose to a crescendo as she mourned the loss of her once fine lover. “Noooooo!” she cried, the echoes of her voice resounding throughout the foyer, causing Wesley and Cordelia to cover their ears. The shrill pain alerted Faith’s senses and she whipped around suddenly, catching the sudden burst of energy and going into motion.
The Slayer’s leg rocketed out and caught the Leanan Sidhe off balance, knocking her to the ground. The spirit hissed, turning her face towards Faith, her fangs bared in anger. She was back on her feet almost before the Slayer had time to inhale deeply and prepare herself for battle.
Blocking the spirit’s fist with a well-timed parry, Faith drew back her arm and delivered a crushing blow to the body she saw in front of her. Without pausing to see the nails ready to rake down her face, Faith held up her arm in defence. The rapier like nails ripped through her denim jacket, tearing the material like paper. The Leanan Sidhe grinned, her fangs creeping out to peek over her lower lip.
Faith drew her arm back and looked at the shreds of denim clinging to her arm. Her skin underneath was unbroken, as was her sudden flash of anger. “You ripped my jacket, you bitch.” Faith went into overdrive, delivering punishing roundhouse kick after blow after punch, until the spirit, no longer able to defend herself, fell to the floor, panting with the exertion.
Suddenly humanistic and vulnerable, the Leanan Sidhe looked up at Faith, for a second fearing the strength she saw in the grim, set features of the Slayer. Their eyes locked briefly, and Faith let a slow smile creep across her lips. Bending down, she pressed her knee into the spirit’s chest, pinning her to the floor.
“You know, Angel said you were some powerful spirit type.” Faith’s voice was playful, although the pressure she was exerting onto the spirit was quite the opposite. “But I guess you’re just some vamp chick after all.” She lifted her arm back, slipping the stake she always carried into her hand, the wood feeling solid in her grip. Her arm moved in a slow arc, the tip of the stake pointing down, ready to sink into the spirit’s undead flesh.
A force, unlike anything Faith had ever felt before, lifted her, pushed her back. Her hand trembled against it, unable to move any further. The spirit’s eyes glowed as she fixated on the stake, watching it smoulder and blacken, then burst into flames.
Shouting in dismay, Faith flung it away from her, a charred mess by the time it hit the floor and crumbled into tiny fragments of ash. A hand gripped her throat, squeezing her trachea and cutting off her source of air. The Slayer tried to speak, tried to move, but found that the spirit was lifting her up so that eventually, her feet dangled a foot above the floor. The Leanan Sidhe held her like a rag doll for a minute or two, before throwing her limp body to one side, where it slid across the marble floor of the hotel foyer, crashing to a stop against the hard wood of the reception desk. Then, it lay still. Inert. Lifeless.
Turning to Angel, the spirit advanced slowly, then something flickered in her mind, turning her away from her former saviour. Glancing at the figures around her, the Leanan Sidhe’s gaze swept the foyer, her expression voicing her disgust for humanity, her disgust almost, for herself.
“You betrayed me Angel,” her voice licked around the syllables like they were sentiments of love, “You took what we had and you ruined it.” She took a step back, towards the hotel entrance, shaking her head as though she could hardly believe what had happened. “You allied yourself with them! Mortals!”
Upon reaching the doorway, she cast a glance back in his direction and smiled as her face returned to normal, the startlingly pale and incandescently beautiful features replacing her demonic visage. “But just because you have a soul, Angel dear heart, doesn’t mean I can’t have you again.”
Angel caught a glimpse of her retreating black cloak before he collapsed onto the sofa behind him and closed his eyes to the impending blackness.
Part 7
It started as a buzzing sound, like a hive of bees close by, busy with their work and preparation. Growing louder, it beckoned into a consciousness, an awareness of something, like sound but not like sound. A faint memory of knowledge and understanding, it flickered, and then went out like a snuffed candle flame. Fading in and out again, it increased, knowing only that there was some sense to be made of all of this.
Surging upwards, towards a light that sucked her in, she tried to escape back to the warmth, the comforting darkness. But the pitch was too weak and dissipated underneath her feet. Was she falling? Or flying? She struggled and felt a firm hold on her, pinning her down. It was like suffocating, only breathing again.
Opening her eyes, she was aware without knowing. She could see without looking. A blurry vision hovered over her, blocking out the harsh yellow light that shone into her face. Blinking, she tried to stop the buzzing, but it was incessant in her ears, her heart pounding a booming rhythm inside her head. The vision moved again and the light was back.
Was it a moment, or an hour, or much longer? She couldn’t tell. The light blinded her and she closed her eyes again, whilst the buzzing increased in pitch and definition. Sucking at her one last time, the brightness forced open her eyes again, and the blur disappeared.
Cordelia bent over the body that had been hastily laid on the sofa and frowned. She dabbed repeatedly at the now bruised forehead with a damp cloth, wondering for the hundredth time, if it really did any good. They always used a damp cloth in soap operas, she told herself. But that was TV. And this was terrifyingly real.
A groan came from somewhere inside the throat that bore reddened finger marks on it. The imprint was firmly made, like a tattoo that was now starting to colour, mottled reddish brown around the edges, fading to purple and yellow.
“Wesley!” Cordelia turned her head to call into the office, “She’s awake.”
The British ex-Watcher came hurrying from the office and leant over the body, examining it carefully, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. He caught eyes with Cordelia and answered her raised eyebrows with a shrug. Pursing her lips together in annoyance, not at him, not at anyone, just at this whole situation, she returned to her nursing duty.
Faith groaned again, her eyes desperately trying to focus on the two blobs of pink above her face. Blinking, she squeezed her eyes shut once, hard and firm. When she opened them, a pair of eyes swam into view that she recognised. At least, her fevered brain grasped for sense, she thought she did. But the person these eyes belonged to had never looked at her like…well…like she cared or something.
“I’ll get her some water.” Wesley scurried away again, as Cordelia bent down, her face very close to Faith’s, and wiped the Slayer’s forehead with the cloth.
“Faith? Wake up Faith…it’s me, Cordelia.” Her voice carried a tone that Faith had never heard before. The usually sharp intonation had gone; instead, Cordelia’s voice was soft, emotional…friendly?
Faith tried to move, but found that she was held back by the sleepy muscles in her whole body, waking slowly, but screaming in strain and agony. Her whole body felt disordered somehow, useless. “What the fu-“
“Don’t try to speak.” Cordelia interjected, pushing Faith back down onto the sofa. “And don’t try to swear either,” she added, the corners of her mouth curving upwards into a perfect smile.
Faith half grinned, before she realised that moving muscles in her face of any kind sent a ripping sensation down her neck. She winced in pain and closed her eyes again. “Sorry Prom Queen,” she mumbled, trying to move her lips as little as she could. “What’s with the whole bedside care thing? I thought you were scared of me.” She peeked out from underneath her eyelids as the other girl coloured in embarrassment and sat back slightly, perched on the edge of the sofa.
“Bit hard to be scared of you when you’re lying unconscious Faith. Although,” Cordelia pursed her lips wryly, “You’re a lot more sociable that way.”
Faith wanted to laugh, but again she felt the pain like nails in her throat, and started to cough. That hurt even more, and each cough was punctuated by a groan or, to Cordelia’s chagrin, an expletive. Struggling to lean up onto her elbows, Faith looked around her. Same old hotel foyer. Same old sofa. Even same old…she looked down at her arm, viewing the tattered sleeve of her denim jacket with remembrance.
“Bitch,” she muttered under her breath. Seeing Cordelia’s shocked expression, she pressed her lips together in a hard line before speaking. “Not you. Her.”
Wesley appeared over the back of the sofa and held out a glass of water in a hand that was slightly shaky. His eyes searched Faith’s worriedly, whilst he seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being. Faith wanted to be confused by this show of affection from them, but pain overwhelmed any doubts she had and she took the glass of water from him, taking tiny sips. The water dripped down her throat, burning all the way, reminding her of what had just happened.
“How is she?” Wesley directed his question towards Cordelia, pulling nervously at a frayed thread on his sweater.
Cordy looked down at Faith, then back at Wesley. “She’s bad tempered and swearing quite a lot. So I guess that means she’s on the mend?” She gave him a feeble smile, which placated him for the time being. He let out a short sigh of appraisal and put his hand on Faith’s shoulder.
“What you did was very brave,” he said, his voice soft and warm. The Slayer remembered that tone, so rare in her experiences with Wesley. But, she thought, it was a welcome sound, more, much more than she imagined it would be. She shrugged carelessly in reply, putting the glass to her lips again and letting more water moisten her throat. If she tried to say anything right now, chances were she’d mess it up by crying like some baby or something. So, she consoled herself, better not to say anything at all.
“Angel and I have been researching some ancient texts. When you’re feeling better we’ll fill you in. There might be a way to…” Wesley paused, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully before his gaze returned to the damaged Slayer before him, “well, we shall have time later to talk.” He patted her shoulder again, drawing a rather cautious glance from Faith. “For now, you must rest.”
As he exchanged a look with Cordelia over Faith’s body, a certain satisfaction spread through the Slayer. Yeah, she’d taken a beating all right, but she’d done something, at least, to show them what it was like for her now. Thinking back on it, she could hardly believe it herself. She sniffed, shaking her head. How things change. And stay the same. Watching Wesley’s retreating figure, she realised how great she felt. How being half beaten to death was possibly chalked up as one of her best days so far this year. And the irony of that didn’t escape even her. Closing her eyes, she smiled inwardly to herself. Whoever said that the English were stuck up needed their head examining. Sure, it took a life and death situation, but they came through in the end…
“I’m sorry Faith.”
The Slayer opened her eyes to see Cordelia looking down at her lap, hands joined, twisting the cloth between her fingers. Faith pushed herself up further on the sofa, so that she was sitting upright. Pushing her hair back, she pulled a face of disgust at the damp strands sticking to her forehead. Setting the glass down on the table, she lifted a hand up to her throat.
“Sorry for what? You didn’t do this,” she gingerly pressed her fingertips against the sore patches down her throat, closing her eyes each time she felt pain, but making no noise in the process. Her Slayer pride didn’t want Cordelia to know just how much it hurt.
“No, but I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry.” Cordelia couldn’t meet Faith’s eyes, knowing that in them she would see pain. Thinking that Faith had died had been more than she could bear. For some reason, she considered Faith ‘unfinished business’. And if Cordy hated anything, it was not having things, situations and even people tied up neatly at the ends. “You really kicked her ass you know,” she attempted confidence building, although her tone didn’t really give credence to her efforts.
“Until I got strangled you mean?” Faith grinned, “Ow. Shit, that hurts. What did that bitch do to me anyway?” She laid her hand on her throat, feeling the heat rising from the damaged skin and muscle there. “I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a Gorak demon.” Seeing the other girl’s confused expression, she smirked, “Big guys; hairy; no sense of fun…shit,” she took a sharp intake of breath, “man, that hurts.”
“Don’t,” Cordelia’s expression was pained. She leant forward, taking Faith’s hand in her own, moving it away from the bruising. Holding the calloused hand, Cordelia squeezed it gently in her own, perfectly moisturised one. The roughness of Faith’s skin would normally have disgusted her, she thought to herself. Normally. But somehow, she smiled, looking shyly back at Faith’s astonished gaze, somehow this felt right. Not normal, not average, not everyday. And it felt good to her. She realised without even thinking, just how unusual Faith was turning out to be, and it pleased her. It pleased her a lot.
“Am I dead?” Faith croaked, looking at Cordelia with something akin to wonder. “I mean, is this my punishment for everything I did? Having you to nursemaid me and hold my hand?” Her tone was mocking, and her self-conscious grin belied any harshness her words might have held. As the other girl met her gaze, a look passed between the two that accepted, befriended and understood.
“No, you’re not dead. Although, I am cooking tonight, so, you know, you’d better watch yourself.” Cordy grinned, oddly delighted to see the smile that spread across Faith’s face.
As they stared at one another, Faith was the first to break their locked gazes. Looking away, she pulled her hand roughly, but not unkindly, from Cordelia’s grasp. The other girl smiled and blushed slightly at the Slayer’s inability to open up, even when she had been so close to death. Again, she was painfully aware of how distressed she had been when Faith hadn’t woken up immediately. She had even shed some tears over the inert body of the Slayer, she recalled. Angel and Wesley had seen her, but had said nothing. She sighed to herself and pretended to make busy with folding the cloth in her hands, as Angel always said, the road to redemption was a rocky path. And she was willing to bet that Faith had just navigated one of the tricky turns.
“The legend is found in several of our older texts, and Mr Giles was good enough to clarify a few conflicting points in the journals that did mention the spirit.” Wesley walked around the table in the office, passing the seated forms of Angel, Cordelia and Faith. He paused for a second to remove his glasses and wipe the lenses with a handkerchief pulled from the pocket of his twill trousers. “Sources indicate that the Leanan Sidhe,” he noticed how Faith winced at the mere mention of her name, “can only be bound by an ancient Celtic ritual.”
“Celtic as in, where Angel comes from?” Cordelia leant forward on the table, resting her head on her hands. She was trying really hard not to be bored by this discussion, but it was fast becoming a list of little known names and texts to her. Even with, she noted privately, her new extended reading list.
“Kinda,” Angel said, from the other side of the table. He shot her a quick smile before rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. “Although these kinds of magicks were around long before I was. Long before anyone was. They go back to the Druids and before them, even.”
“So what you’re saying is…?” Faith said in a hushed tone. She felt all eyes turn to her and shrugged, trying to ignore the particularly painful spot in her right shoulder. It worried her that the spirit bitch, as she had now become known to the Slayer, had hurt her so effortlessly. She’d never encountered that kind of power before; had never been so easily overthrown. It kinda put the whole Slayer gig in its place, she thought wryly.
Wesley nodded and took up the question she had asked. “What we’re saying is that the binding spell to send the Leanan Sidhe back to her own dimension,” he resumed circling the table, walking in slow steady steps that matched his speech pattern, “is extremely difficult and should only be attempted by those experienced in witchcraft.” He stopped walking and dropped into the vacant chair at the table, shoving the handkerchief back into his front pocket. He looked around the faces turned towards him and sighed, “Which does not include Angel and myself.”
“We know a couple of wannabe sorcerers in the city; we’re going to head over to them, see what they know about this whole thing.” Angel said, leaning back in his chair. “This is way out of my league. We need some powerful magicks here, and fast. And I guess,” he sighed, “these guys are our only option right now.”
All of a sudden, it hit Faith. She remembered something that almost blinded her with its brilliance. A smile spread across her face and she held up her hand, waving it from side to side to attract their attention.
“Or maybe not,” she said, looking at each pair of eyes in turn, her own brown gaze glistening with knowledge and hope. “I’ve got an idea.”
Part 8
Cordelia was hovering by the doorway, craning her neck to see outside. The light drifted in through the open door and cast dancing shadows on the marble floor of the hotel lobby. Some distance away, Angel was sitting on the sofa, poring over a book of ancient texts, whilst by his hand, a huge pile of similar tomes were stacked up.
He and Wesley had sat up for most of the night, in preparation for their visitors. Although Angel had his doubts, he was aware that Faith knew what she was talking about. Her animated description of the powers that could be harnessed for their purpose remained fresh in his mind. He remembered that he had been proud of her for her contribution, watching the faces of Wesley and Cordelia carefully for recriminations. Thankfully, he sighed, returning to the present and leaning back on the sofa, there were none.
His eyes were drawn to the figure of his friend and co-worker where she moved in and out of the doorway, caught, it seemed, in a complicated dance where she didn’t want to appear nosy, but couldn’t contain her inquisitive nature.
“Cordy,” he called, watching as she turned at the sound of his voice, “Why don’t you do something useful, like make some tea, or…or…” he trailed off.
She caught his glance and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Or what? Draw a pentacle on the floor? Get some eye of toad and tongue of newt?” She let out a laugh as he shrugged, almost embarrassed by his own eagerness. “Really Angel, I’m just excited. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone from the old town.”
“Okay then,” he held up his hands in supplication before resuming his reading, watching her out of the corner of his eye for a second. “And it’s eye of newt anyway,” he muttered, almost to himself.
The sound of a car door outside alerted Cordelia and she sprung into action, smoothing her hands down over her summer dress that she’d saved for a special occasion. She stood by the doorway as four figures approached. Wesley first, then Faith, then their two guests.
Letting out a squeal and throwing her arms around the slight figure that stepped through the doorway, Cordelia felt Faith’s eyes on her, watchful and dark. She’d been like that ever since the two of them had bonded over crushed tracheas and ripped jackets. It was odd, the dark Slayer thought, watching the small redheaded figure swept up in Cordelia’s fragrant embrace. Odd that someone like Cordelia should have depths. Even odder that she should choose to share them with herself. Still, Faith shrugged, lugging the suitcase their visitors had brought with them over the threshold, she was getting to like Cordy a whole lot more than she had thought she would.
“Willow!” Cordelia held the other girl back from her, grasping her arms just above the elbow and flashing her a perfect smile. “It’s so good to see you!”
“It-it is?” Willow looked confused for a second, then her lips spread into a broad smile that lit up her whole face. “Okay then, sure it is!” She cast a look to the girl standing next to her and wrested herself free from Cordelia’s grip, shaking down the flowing sleeves of her purple top. “Cordelia, this is Tara.” She put out a hand and slipped it through the other girl’s arm, pulling her closer.
Tara held out her hand shyly and smiled, her shoulders ever so slightly hunched. “Hi,” she said softly, “Willow’s told me about you.”
Cordelia led the way down the stairs into the foyer with a grandiose sweep of her hand, as though she were entertaining royalty. A laugh tinkled from her lips and she dismissed Tara’s words with a flick of her wrist. “I bet she has! Although, things are different here. I mean,” she turned to the two witches following her, and added seriously, “I’m different. I get visions.”
Tara nodded obediently. Looking across at Willow, she grinned as the redhead rolled her eyes; she shot her an affectionate glare in reply. They sat down opposite Angel, who looked at the two of them together, sitting close on the chair, their arms touching lightly. He frowned to himself for a second, then dismissed it as intrusive. He’d heard from Faith that Willow was with Tara and whilst he’d thought it strange at the time, he wasn’t stupid. The two of them together were almost humming with magick. Not all of it, he assumed, looking at their bright faces and glowing eyes, was due to their Wiccan powers.
Faith flopped onto the sofa beside him, flinging a leg over the arm nearest to her. She had spent a day or two healing, and moaning, mostly about being confined to her bed and Cordelia’s cooking. She wasn’t back to full strength just yet, the bruises on her throat bearing witness to that, but she was thankful to be up and about again. That much was evident. And, Angel noticed, she was a lot more relaxed with the two witches here. Whatever had happened to the three of them in England had obviously done her the world of good.
Wesley stood by the back of the chair and nodded towards Angel. He had promised to brief the two witches on their way here in the car. Angel let his lips curve in a small smile towards the lean British man and returned his gaze to Willow and Tara.
“So you know what we’ve got planned?” he asked.
Willow nodded, rummaging in her linen shoulder bag for some notes she had made on the plane. Bringing them out, she held them towards Angel. “We did some research before we came here,” she said, gesturing with her head towards Tara, “It’s not going to be easy you know, I mean, this spirit has been around a lot longer than most of the magicks we do.”
“But you can do the spell, right?” Faith pushed at her hair and looked across at the two of them, receiving a warm smile from Tara in return. Looking at them now, she realised how much she’d missed the girl who had been her first proper friend. She almost blushed, dropping her gaze and fiddling with a button on her jacket instead.
“Well we think so, yeah.” Willow nodded, watching as Angel went through her notes, his eyes dark and brooding. “In fact, it was actually Tara who found the right combination of incantations to get the binding spell just right,” she added proudly, reaching out for her girlfriend’s hand and intertwining her own fingers with it.
“This is good.” Angel looked up briefly to meet Tara’s eyes, so serious and deep blue. He offered her a smile, watching as she flushed and looked away, her lips curved in a gentle smile. All of a sudden, he found that he liked her. She was so unlike Willow, so unlike the other Scoobies and yet, he mused, she had that same quality they all had. Whatever it was, he liked it.
“We have to wait until full moon though, to do it properly.” Willow told him, “By my reckoning, that’s another day. Gives us enough time to get settled and perfect our spell. What do you think?”
“Who cares what he thinks?” Cordelia bustled into the conversation, trying not to stare at the fact that Willow was holding Tara’s hand. “It gives us enough time to show you two round LA! That’s more important.” She folded her arms over her chest and sniffed, “Why don’t I show you your rooms whilst Angel does the paperwork. Then we can eat.”
“Oh God,” Faith got to her feet, groaning and pulling a face, “I swear Cordelia, if you’re cooking again I’m gonna go out and kill stuff.” She picked up Tara’s bag and shot her friend a crooked smile of comradeship. “Don’t eat her food, whatever she says,” she grinned, ignoring the look of mock horror on Cordy’s face, “She’s trying to poison us, I’m sure of it. Come on,” she beckoned to the stairs and Willow got to her feet, pulling Tara along with her
.
Cordelia followed them, protesting loudly about the snubs on her culinary skills. Laughter drifted back to the vampire who sat poring over Willow’s notes, as Wesley sat down beside him.
Removing his glasses and wiping at them with a cloth, Wesley squinted over Angel’s shoulder at the scribbled writing he was holding. “Do you think they can do it?” he asked.
Angel turned to him, a troubled look on his handsome face, curving lines into the ageless features. He sighed, putting the notes inside the book he was reading and closing the cover. “I don’t know.”
“They really are very powerful witches, Angel,” Wesley attempted to reassure him. He gave the lens he was cleaning a final polish then replaced his glasses, folding the cloth neatly before putting it into his shirt pocket. “The experiences they had in England…” he paused, pressing his lips together before adding, “Willow was under the tutelage of Merlin himself. And Tara, well she was integral to Willow realising the full extent of her powers.”
“I know,” Angel said, reaching up to wipe a weary hand over his face, “But this, Wes, it’s so dangerous. I’m not sure if I like putting them in that kind of a situation.”
The British man looked back towards the stairway, up which the four girls had disappeared some moments ago. He had felt, from the moment that he had seen them, that some change had taken place with Willow. Her ideas were so focused and clear. The way she talked, it was so direct and knowledgeable. She was different. He knew that.
“I’m not sure whether this has anything to do with you,” he said, turning back to look at the vampire sitting beside him. “They choose to do it, Willow and Tara. Just like Faith does.” Shaking his head, he shrugged. “In fact, they were most insistent that this would be their venture. Remarkable.”
“Yeah,” Angel said, only half listening. His thoughts again returned to the Leanan Sidhe, feeling a chill strike his cold body at the memory of her. “Remarkable.”
Faith led the way down the dim corridor and stopped outside a room with 216 on the door in gold numbers. Kicking the door open with her foot, she led Willow and Tara inside. Angel had made an effort to give them one of the cleaner rooms, even going so far as to tidy up a bit. Even so, decades of dust threatened to take over the room from the edges of the window and Faith turned to her friends and shrugged.
“It’s not much, but it sure beats paying for a room.”
Willow walked into the centre of the room and looked around. Dark carpets ran from wall to wall, their dark colouring of the room broken only by the pale eiderdown on the huge bed, situated near the window. The drapes were pulled, letting in a fraction of sunlight through their tattered edges. It was pretty depressing, she thought, thinking fondly of Tara’s room back in Sunnydale. But, she sighed to herself; it would do for the next few nights. Until they got rid of the spirit. Or, she grimaced inwardly, until it got rid of them.
She turned, meeting Tara’s eyes, and smiled. “What do you think Tar?”
Tara grinned back at her and moved to sit down on the bed, feeling it creak embarrassingly loudly underneath her weight. She spread her hands over the eiderdown; at least that felt new and soft, she thought to herself. “It’s fine.” Her voice sounded very loud in the quiet of the room and she was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her. Trying not to blush, she nodded and looked down at the floor. “Very nice.”
“But,” Cordelia stepped forwards from behind Faith, wringing her hands together and casting a look close to anguish at the two girls, “your room is next door, Tara. I put flowers in there, you know, seeing as I don’t know you.” Her dark gaze flicked between Willow and Tara as they avoided her unasked question, trying not to laugh.
“Cordelia, Tara and I will be quite happy in here, thanks all the same.” Willow said, a note of laughter colouring her tone. “Really, it’s fine.”
“But…” Cordelia started, then stopped as she looked between the two girls in front of her. Willow sat down on the bed next to Tara and took her hand, stroking her fingers softly over the surface she knew by heart.
“They said it’s fine.” Faith’s voice jerked Cordelia back from the troublesome thoughts filling her head. The Slayer reached out and took her arm, puling her towards the door. “Why don’t you an’ me have a little chat, leave these two to get settled huh?” She shot a despairing glance towards Willow and Tara, shaking her head. They couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Tara placing her hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to hold the mirth inside.
Protesting loudly, although not firmly enough for Faith, Cordelia was pulled unceremoniously out of the room, her face a picture of confusion. Faith reached back in, winked at the two of them and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Oh God!” Willow threw herself back on the bed, giggling. She pushed a stray lock of red hair from her eyes and looked up at Tara, leaning over her, eyes bright with pleasure. “I can’t believe her, you know, she might have visions and stuff, but sometimes she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her face!”
Tara lay herself down beside Willow, reaching her arm across to smooth over her girlfriend’s stomach, fingers fluttering across the gauzy material of Willow’s top. A slow smile spread across her lips as Willow turned to face her, reddened lips slightly parted. Tara’s heart clenched with emotion, as always, when she was near to her lover. A tiny sigh of contentment escaped from her lips.
“So how many of your friends don’t know about us?” she asked, teasing a little.
Willow trailed her fingers through Tara’s silken hair, letting the strands slip through her hand before reaching up to take a hold of it again. “None. And Cordelia’s never been a friend,” she said softly. “I thought Faith might have told her, for a start. Or Angel. Or…or anyone.” She shook her head gently, “She can’t help it, she’s always been like that. I mean,” she said, her voice becoming playful, “you can take the girl out of cheerleading, but you can’t take cheerleading out of the girl. You’d think The Powers That Be might at least exercise a little taste now and then.”
Tara let out a little snort of laughter. “Willow, really. She seems very nice.”
The redhead’s eyebrows raised slightly, and she leant forward to look questioningly into Tara’s twin pools of blue. “Oh really? Does she?”
“No…not like that,” Tara began, then realised that Willow was teasing her. A slow smile that she knew Willow found irresistible spread across her mouth as she pursed her lips. “Vixen,” she said, her voice low and sensuous.
“Mmm,” Willow breathed, leaning in closer so that she could spread her fingers across the back of Tara’s head, pulling her in. “I like being your vixen. Like it a lot.” She leant forward and kissed Tara, breathing in the unmistakeable scent of her girlfriend, a combination of sandalwood and lavender. It set her senses on fire, every time she smelt it. The tiny groan in the base of Tara’s throat told her that maybe, sometimes, being a vixen was pretty okay.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cordelia was pacing the floor of Faith’s room, located just a few doors down from Willow and Tara’s. She turned to the Slayer, a deep flush of embarrassment across her throat, and was amazed to see Faith watching her very carefully. That didn’t exactly help her colouring, she was shocked to find, and she paced back in the opposite direction to the dark Slayer.
Faith put her hands on her hips, spreading her fingers over her leather-clad pelvis, wondering if this was really happening. She had become so used to Willow and Tara as a couple that it hadn’t even occurred to her that someone might not actually get it. Besides, she thought painfully, it wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted what they had, with someone else. She shook her head; that seemed like a long time ago, and, in terms of her own awareness, it was. But, her eyes returned to the agitated figure of Cordelia, there was something about the other girl’s distress that was kind of…
She stopped herself. Nope. Didn’t do any good thinking like that. She was here for a reason, and catching some well-bred tail like Cordy wasn’t it. Although, Faith mused, seeing Cordy like this was kinda cute.
“I mean, I made a complete fool of myself!” Cordelia turned to face Faith again, shocking the Slayer out of her daydream. A pair of brown eyes met her own and she faced them this time, wondering not for the first time what was going on behind the dark façade Faith often presented.
“Yeah well, it happens.” Faith sighed, reaching up to push a hand through her dark locks. She offered a sympathetic smile to the other girl, who pressed her lips together and practically stamped impatiently on the floor. Faith thought it was cute; her grin widened.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” Cordelia growled, her forehead furrowing itself into two deep lines. “It’s bad enough that I never…” she stopped, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest.
“Never what?” Faith enquired, her curiosity piqued.
“I was never really accepted by them.” Cordelia admitted, her eyes looking down at the floor. “Willow always had this…this thing with Xander and I never got into that. I mean, sure, I helped the Scooby Gang out, but it wasn’t like I was part of their group.” She pulled a face, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I wanted Willow to come here and think I was something special. Now she’s laughing at me with her…” she gulped dramatically, “her girlfriend.” She blinked back the tears prickling at the back of her eyes, almost amazed at her own show of emotion.
“Hey,” Faith moved forward, holding out her hand, then stopped, pulling it back instantly. “It’s not like that. It’s…you know…” she shrugged.
Cordelia looked up at her, suddenly serious, her eyes two deep pools of shimmering light. She watched as Faith bit her lip thoughtfully, searching for an answer. “What is it?” she asked dismally, “I just wanted to feel special, like I knew what was going on for a change.” She sniffed loudly.
“You are special.” Faith said quietly, hardly daring to look the other girl in the eye. “Willow knows that, so does Tara. They were stoked at the thought of seeing you, honest.” She knew that last part was a lie, but said it anyway. Something inside her really wanted to make it better. She grimaced inwardly; the old her would have delighted in seeing Cordelia cry, but now, well, it kind of made her feel bad.
“Really?” Cordelia asked, her voice wavering slightly. She sniffed again, and looked up at Faith, her face pulled in an expression of needy confirmation.
“Sure,” Faith grinned, “’Course you are. And everyone knows that.” She threw herself back onto her bed and lay looking at the delight that spread across the other girl’s face. Damn, if she’d known Cordy was so easy to make happy, she’d have done this kind of thing years ago. A wicked grin split her lips at the mere thought. “I mean,” she continued, “We’ll just tell ‘em your gaydar was broken or something, they’ll forgive and forget soon enough.” She dodged as a handy cushion rocketed towards her head from the hands of a vengeful ex-Prom Queen. Laughter escaped Faith as she watched Cordelia’s expression turn to good-humoured impatience.
“Just for that, I’m going to cook tonight.” Cordelia turned haughtily towards the door, flashing a wicked glance towards the Slayer, lying giggling on the bed. “And, Faith,” she added with a flourish before leaving the room, “I’m going to make you eat it!”
Part 9
Seated at the large table in Angel’s office, Faith couldn’t help smiling to herself at the image forming in her head. She looked around at the familiar faces and tracked her thoughts back to King Arthur, as she had seen him last, lying in state amongst the finest and bravest of his knights. She could still feel the electric vibrations of the magick flowing through his sword when she had grasped it firmly in her own hands. Somehow, she thought, that was what this was like. They were all good guys now, all working to make the world a better place.
A tiny grimace pulled at the corners of her mouth. That sounded too corny to be coming from her head, although, she mused, she’d been a big fan of corn lately. Sure made a change from the way she used to be. Glancing across at Willow, flicking through the tattered pages of a book Angel had provided, she caught eyes with the redhead. Willow shot her a quick smile, one of friendship. Faith found her own mouth returning the sentiment. Yep, she told herself, there was something to be said for corn. In small doses.
“And when you create this binding field, it brings the Leanan Sidhe to wherever you are?” Wesley leant over Willow’s shoulder, pausing in his path from the table to the huge pot of coffee on the sideboard.
The redhead nodded, “Yeah, although when she gets to wherever we are, we might, you know, wanna be…uh…elsewhere?”
Angel closed the book in front of him with a resounding ‘thunk’ that echoed in the office for a second. All eyes turned towards him, his troubled features pulling his eyes towards the varnished surface of his desk. He ran his fingers over it for a second, and then looked up, his gaze travelling across the group around him.
“It’s too dangerous.” His voice was blank and emotionless, belying the fear that was nagging at his insides, as taut and strong as the muscle that ticked in his cheek.
“What?” Willow leaned forward, frowning, “No way Angel. You can’t bring us out here and then tell us not to do this. That’s not fair.” She sat back in her chair, her lips pouting out in an expression of dismay. “I mean, we’ve done our homework and everything…” she glanced to where Tara was sitting at her side, a sympathetic look crossing the blonde girl’s face. Tara reached for Willow’s hand underneath the table and squeezed it gently. She knew how seriously Willow was taking this; far more seriously than she was herself. Perhaps, she thought, if Willow realised how powerful this spirit was then she might not…no, she stopped herself, negative thinking never got a spirit banished. At least, not in her experience.
“Sorry Will, but you know, I kind of feel bad about you two, oh, I don’t know, maybe dying?” Angel’s voice held a hint of sarcasm that wasn’t lost on the redhead, and she pouted even more, shaking her head.
“Angel, I thought we discussed this.” Wesley returned with a cup of steaming coffee and took the vacant seat next to Faith. He fixed his eyes on the vampire, wondering what on earth was causing him to react like this. Angel realised the risks involved in any mission they chose to take, but this, he shook his head, this was far more personal than he wanted it to be. And it seemed as though it was colouring the vampire’s judgement.
“No Wes,” Angel held up his hand, “You discussed this. I listened. And now I’ve thought about it, I think it’s too dangerous.” He turned back to the two witches sitting near him, his voice softening slightly, “I don’t want you getting hurt by this…by her. She’s evil. Dangerous. I don’t want…” he stopped, biting at his lower lip thoughtfully, searching for the right words. “It’s not right that you should do this. It was me who set her free in the first place.”
“So? You’re not going all ‘atonement guy’ on us again are you?” Willow sighed, pushing a hand through her tousled hair. As the strands fell back into the exact same place she had removed them from, she sighed, her cheeks puffing out in impatience. “You did what you did Angel. Now you should let us do what we do.” She looked over again at Tara, who nodded in agreement.
“But what if…what if you can’t stop her?” Angel asked, and the group realised that it was fear, not some sense of responsibility, that caused his indecision. He glanced around the group again, his eyes resting on Faith, her throat still bearing the faint marks of the spirit’s hold. Swallowing at the memory, he met her gaze. The fluid brown of her eyes watched him for a second, trying to communicate that she understood and appreciated his concern, but that it really wasn’t necessary. She could take care of herself.
“We will.” Tara spoke suddenly, for the first time since the meeting had begun. She looked away from the sets of eyes that turned to her, taking a short breath before meeting them firmly. “We can stop her. Willow and I. We can do this.” Her voice was steady, betraying none of her usual nervousness at talking to more than one person at a time. “You just have to trust us Angel.”
Willow turned to look at the vampire, watching Tara with something like reverence in his eyes. He frowned slightly, as though he was trying to remember something, as though he had met her before somewhere, his eyes narrowing as he was lost in some kind of reverie. Snapping himself out of it, he took a breath and braced himself for the final confession.
“It’s not about trust. It’s about what the Leanan Sidhe wants.” His voice was low, careful. The others looked on with interest. “I set her free by giving her what she wanted,” he corrected himself, “wants, more than anything. A soul of such purity it couldn’t be tainted by her temptations. A soul that was so full of love, it would never succumb to her lusts. I gave her that. I corrupted an innocent to give her life in our world, with all her powers and evil.”
“But you were vamped out at the time Angel,” Faith interjected, her voice pleading with him not to do this, to stop looking back all the time. God knows, she was aiming for the same thing and she thought he was too. “I mean, yeah, sure, minus points for the corrupting and stuff, but you’re not that person anymore.”
“Exactly,” Wesley nodded fiercely in agreement, “You have a soul now.”
“So I can be tempted by her, the same way you can,” Angel nodded his head towards his friend, “And you Faith, and you, and you.” He looked round the group in turn, his eyes bearing witness to his turmoil. “Only the pure of soul can truly deny her. Given the choice.” He looked down at his hand, lying on the table and clenched it into a fist. “I didn’t give the innocent that choice. I mean, it took weeks of planning but…” he shook his head slowly in shame, “I’m not sure I could control myself this time either. You see, we don’t have any defence against her. Only witchcraft, and that’s not a given.”
Willow made a sound of vexation and folded her arms across her chest. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Honey, I think Angel’s just, you know, worried.” Tara said, placing her hand on Willow’s arm. As their eyes met, Willow felt the familiar calm that her girlfriend exuded rush through her veins. Tara’s eyes smiled into her, and then flickered across to where the troubled vampire sat. “We’re all worried, but what other choice do we have? The spell I found will work Angel, you’ll see.” She offered him a tiny smile that worked its way into his cold heart.
Leaning back in his chair, he tried to glean some confidence in her soothing tone. Again, the nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere niggled the back of his brain, like a forgotten memory that was slowly reawakening somewhere. He shrugged it off mentally and nodded slowly, returning to his book.
Some time later, after Cordelia had returned with Chinese food, Angel and Wesley excused themselves and went to check their weapons store. Faith had been slightly hurt at first that they had not invited her along, although when she realised that she was to spend the evening with Willow and Tara, her spirits lifted somewhat. Communication between them had been scarce since she had left Sunnydale; in fact, she hadn’t bothered to make contact with them at all. Whilst she knew Tara didn’t mind, and Willow had been overjoyed to hear from her at last, she couldn’t help feeling that somewhere along the line, they were in some confusion about why she had left. Sometimes, she thought with a wry grin, she wasn’t sure why she had left herself.
Although, she reminded herself, settling back onto the sofa with a soda, she wasn’t going to even begin talking about Buffy with Cordelia around. The other girl insisted on taking Willow on a trip down memory lane, which wasn’t as fun as it might have first sounded. Willow fielded questions about Oz with a nature that other people, and Faith included herself in this, might have balked at. Watching Tara’s obvious discomfort when his name was mentioned, she turned to the blonde witch sitting beside her and gave her a quick poke in the ribs.
“Does she annoy you?” she whispered, when Tara jerked round to look at her with startled eyes.
“Who? Oh – um…no,” Tara said uncertainly, then grinned across at the Slayer. “She’s everything Willow said she would be. I was kind of prepared in that respect.”
“Hmm.” Faith took a deep gulp of her soda and shrugged. “She kinda gets on my nerves. I mean, all these questions…who cares?”
Tara looked down at her hands, joined together in her lap. She, more than anyone perhaps, had broken through the tough façade Faith liked to present. And she was intelligent enough to know when the Slayer was faking. Like she was now. Turning her gaze back to Faith’s deep brown eyes, she raised her eyebrows a little, “So you’re not at all interested in knowing what Sunnydale’s like without you?”
Knowing Tara was teasing, Faith pursed her lips and shot her a look of cynicism. However, she also knew that Tara was handing her a loaded question. So many things…she sighed inwardly, so many questions hovering on the tip of her tongue. And all the while she was too proud to ask them. Too proud? Or was that too scared, she wondered. Meeting Tara’s gaze, she relented a little and her face softened. The reason why she had returned to Sunnydale flickered into her mind, at the back of everything, always. Thinking of Buffy had always produced some emotion in her, at first it had been jealousy, then it had hardened to hate, tipping over the line into love pretty damn quickly, she remembered. She had always loved Buffy. She probably always would. It was just…Faith took a breath, preparing herself for the inevitable; it was just that she knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t ever be.
“How is she?” she asked in a low tone, her question meaningful and sincere.
Tara pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and pressed her lips together into a line before answering. “She misses you.” Her gaze flicked down to her lap as she recalled Buffy’s late night visit to her room, looking for Willow. The Slayer had sobbed like a baby to the two of them that night, telling them all about Faith and what had happened.
Faith’s heart sank and she gulped at her soda again, frowning back the lump in her throat. When she was able to speak, she shook her head. “It just wasn’t…you know? Not the right time. Maybe it never will be, with her, I mean,” she smiled sadly.
The blonde girl nodded and smiled, reaching out to squeeze Faith’s arm lightly, as a sign of comfort and compatriotism. “She knows that. I mean, she’s hurt and everything. But life has to go on. She’ll always be grateful to you for showing her that.” Her gaze floated across to where Willow sat practically pinned to the chair by Cordelia, a glaze across her eyes as she listened to the other girl prattle on about situations that concerned only her. Tara’s lips curved into a loving smile. “You’ll know, Faith, when you meet the one. It kind of hits you in the heart,” her hand crept to her breast for a second, before falling back into her lap, “and it never goes away.” She looked back at the Slayer, watching her with something like awe, and grinned. “You’re doing great Faith. I’m really proud of you.”
The Slayer snorted and shrugged off the compliment in her inimitable manner, although her eyes betrayed her heart, misting gratefully at the young woman’s words. “Well,” she winked, “kick this spirit bitch’s ass and I’ll be really proud of you.”
“…and that was how I got my visions!” Cordelia finished proudly, looking across to where Faith and Tara sat, companionably leaning together on the sofa opposite her. She looked at the three girls, as though waiting for applause. She received none. A loud sigh escaped her painted red lips and she cast a look of disdain towards them. “Well, when you three are chosen by The Powers That Be, I’ll remember to be excited for you too,” she said, in a mock-insulted tone.
“Sure you will Cor,” Faith finished off her soda and crumpled the can in her hand, the action making Cordelia wince at her lack of finesse. “Because when The Powers That Be contacts one of us, it’ll be to ask if you ever shut up.”
Willow smothered a giggle behind her hand, whilst Tara sighed and shook her head. “Faith, your winning charm never ceases to amaze me,” she said gently, casting a sympathetic look across to where Cordelia sat, shooting venomous looks at the Slayer. “I think your visions are…” she searched for the right words, “really cool.”
“Thank you Tara.” Cordelia said triumphantly, her gaze flashing over to where Faith sat. The Slayer responded by sticking out her tongue playfully. “At least one of you exhibits a little taste now and then.”
“Hey!” Willow leaned forward, her face full of indignation, “I’ve got taste coming out of my behind. I mean, Tara’s my girlfriend isn’t she?” She grinned foolishly across at the blonde girl who was flushing red down her throat, relishing the fact that, even after all this time, she still knew how to make Tara blush.
Faith stuck her fingers in and out of her mouth in a vomit inducing gesture. “Gah, you two have to be diabetic by now, all that sugar you throw at each other.”
“Well I think it’s sweet. You two make good lesbians.” Cordelia announced, drawing not one, but three pairs of astonished eyes to where she sat upright on the arm of Willow’s chair. She gazed back at them, unabashed. “What? Well they do!”
Willow laughed lightly and got to her feet, reaching across to grab Tara’s hand and pull her from the sofa. “Thanks Cordy.” She yawned loudly, “Much as I’d love to sit here and listen to you do the whole Gay Rights thingy all night, I’m whacked and I need some sleep.” She looked across at Tara, seeing the other girl’s weariness all of a sudden, “And so do you,” she smiled gently. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, want to do the whole witch thing without falling asleep, because that’s no way to get rid of a spirity demon vampire woman, as we all know.” She looked at the blank faces listening to her rambling and took a breath, “Okay then. G’night guys.”
Tara nodded, glancing behind her as Willow practically dragged her to the stairs, bidding goodnight to Faith and Cordelia. As they made their way up the staircase to the landing above, Cordelia sighed, sinking down onto the seat that Willow had just vacated. She looked across to where the Slayer sat, still staring after the two witches. Faith had a look on her face that was almost wistful, she thought, and then hurriedly tried to search for another word. She came up empty. Yeah, wistful, she agreed with herself. Somehow, it made Faith look almost vulnerable, like a real human being. Despite herself, Cordelia liked it. Despite herself, she admitted, she was beginning to like Faith.
Returning to her senses, the expression dropped from Faith’s face almost as quickly as it has appeared, and she turned to see Cordelia watching her carefully.
“What?” she frowned, her bottom jaw jutting out defensively.
“You like them don’t you?” Cordelia asked, leaning back in her chair, resting her head on one hand.
“What’s not to like? They’re great. ‘Sides, a lot went down in England,” Faith shrugged nonchalantly, hardly able to bring herself to actually giving a compliment without ripping it back again immediately. “We went through some shit together. Kinda makes you like people, doing that kind of stuff.” Her gaze met Cordelia’s for a second; aware that the other girl was listening intently, and she danced her eyes away quickly, suddenly feeling terribly self-conscious.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then.
“Faith, have you ever kissed a woman?”
“What?” Faith was not only taken aback by the question, but when her shocked gaze jumped to rest on the other girl’s face, she realised that Cordelia was deadly serious. She pushed herself up into an upright sitting position on the sofa, blinking in the words as though she could hardly believe it. “What do you mean?”
“You. Kissing. Woman.” Cordelia spoke slowly and deliberately as though explaining something to a small child. Her expression was thoughtful as she moved her head around on her hand, shifting position until she felt comfortable again.
“Yeah I know what you asked, I just meant…” Faith was flustered and she knew it; was painfully aware of how unnerved it made her feel. She hated it. Gathering what little remained of her composure, she shook her head, closing her eyes just the once to clear her thoughts. “Kinda a strange question don’tcha think?”
“Not really,” Cordelia said speculatively, “It’s just, you know, seeing them so happy and stuff. I wondered if maybe, you know,” she smiled faintly. “They look so happy.”
Regaining control again, Faith pushed her lips into a wry smile. “Damn, Cor. Being happy isn't about what sex you kiss. It’s about kissing the right person. Daddy’s money sure didn’t buy you any basic know how, did it?” She let out a dismissive snort of laughter as the other girl frowned, slightly hurt by Faith’s reaction.
“I was only asking,” Cordelia said, half apologetic, although inside she was smarting from what she was now feeling was a ridiculous topic. Should have kept it in your head, she mentally kicked herself. Her eyes returned to Faith; it was too late to go back now. “So…have you?” she insisted.
“Not much I haven’t done.” Faith stood up, stretching her arms out and yawning, although she didn’t really feel very tired at all. She folded her arms over her chest and realised that her heart was pounding. It irritated her. The same way that Cordelia irritated her. A scowl formed across her mouth as she looked down on the other girl, still sitting in the chair, although her eyes were firmly fixed on Faith now, full of something that seemed like admiration. Faith raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side, “What now? Shocked? Well Prom Queen, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Lots,” she added, just for emphasis’ sake.
“Apparently.” Cordelia’s voice held a hint of irony that inflamed Faith, making her scowl even more. “So what was it like?”
“What was what like?” Faith assumed her devil may care stance; feet planted firmly shoulder length apart, her body rocking back on her hips. It was almost like fighting, she thought, but not quite. Something was different, she realised, wishing she could put her finger on it. But the adrenalin was pumping all right.
“Kissing a woman, stupid.” Cordelia stood up, tired of pushing Faith so hard for details. She sighed to herself, she should have known that trying to have normal girl talk with Faith was useless. Heart to hearts usually required both participants to actually have one. She smoothed down her skirt and plucked at her cuffs, pulling the sleeves of her shirt straight.
Faith moved around the coffee table to stand directly in front of Cordy, her eyes blazing with something that didn’t frighten the other girl, but didn’t cosy her along by any means. She pushed her face into Cordelia’s and snarled, “Don’t call me stupid.”
Stepping back, Cordy sighed with the patience of one who was talking to the mentally deficient. Obviously, she told herself calmly, getting to know Faith meant swinging along merrily with her many mood changes. Something that she wasn’t quite prepared to do tonight. Judging by the Slayer’s attitude problem, she wasn’t preparing to do it any other night soon, either.
“All I wanted,” she walked towards the reception desk, practically dismissing the Slayer with a flick of her dainty wrist, “was a civilised conversation. I asked you what it was like kissing a woman. All you had to do was tell me. But no, that’s not good enough for you is it? I let you make fun of me in front of Willow and Tara; I make sure you have food and drink; I even go shopping to find you a new jacket, but that’s not good enough for you is it? I mean, really,” she reached the desk and leant against it, fumbling behind for her handbag, “the least you could do is give me an answer.”
Having Cordelia turn her back on her was practically more than Faith could bear. Clenching her fists, she followed the other girl as she was talking and ended up right behind her. Fuming with an annoyance she couldn’t really understand and a suppressed emotion hitherto unrecognised, Faith realised that she wasn’t going to be responsible for her actions.
Cordelia felt two strong hands on her upper arms, spinning her around. The hard edge of the reception desk dug into her back as she was pushed against it. Before she had a chance to cry out in pain and surprise, Faith stepped in close to her and they locked gazes. Two pairs of eyes widened and opened suddenly, seeing something that burst between them and exploded, throwing fragments of debris all around their flailing minds.
“Here’s your answer.” Faith said in a low impassioned voice, and pressed her lips onto Cordelia’s. Her grip tightened on the other girl as she felt Cordy resist at first, then sink into the embrace with a little moan rising from the base of her throat. The kiss was hard and by no means romantic in any sense, but both Faith and Cordy moved into it, their mouths firmly fixed on the other.
Cordelia could feel the Slayer’s fingers digging into her upper arms like iron pincers, holding her tight. She would have cried out in pain, but the feeling of Faith’s lips on hers was as wonderful as it was shocking. She knew she should have felt disgusted; she knew she should have pushed the other girl away; she knew that this was all wrong. But still she kissed back, opening her mouth to let the other girl’s tongue thrust resolutely inside, jutting into her mouth and tumbling against her own.
It was over as quickly as it had begun. Faith stumbled back, letting go of Cordelia’s arms and an expression of dread painted itself in broad colours across her face. She gazed in wide-eyed horror as the other girl pressed a hand to her mouth, where only seconds ago Faith had been lost in a reckless moment of passion. Cordy’s eyes swept up to meet the Slayer’s and they stood for what seemed like endless seconds in silent retribution.
“I…I’m sorry,” Faith said, her voice cracking as she felt her knees begin to tremble. She turned and ran from the other girl, her boots thudding against the floor, the only sound in the empty lobby.
Part 10
“What’s up with those two?” Willow whispered in Tara’s ear as they were organising their tools for the forthcoming spell.
Tara glanced up from the table in the centre of the lobby, strewn with various herbs and implements. She paused over a handful of ragwort, looking towards the two figures at the far end of the foyer near the staircase. Faith was swinging a particularly nasty looking axe around, sweeping it up and down, in huge arcs around her body. Cordelia was sitting on the fourth step up, her head buried in a book Tara knew to be a demonology text.
Frowning, she returned to her herbs, picking up the ragwort and putting it with the other ingredients at the far left hand side of the table. “I don’t know, what do you mean?”
Willow sat down beside her, her arm slipping easily around Tara’s waist. She spread her fingers out, splayed in the warm flesh peeking from underneath Tara’s green cotton blouse, and smiled against her lover’s ear. “They’re acting like something’s happened,” she murmured, inhaling the scent of the other girl’s clean hair. Closing her eyes briefly, she was reminded of a similar moment of awkwardness, the first time she had woken up with Tara. The two of them had spent nights together, but the first time they had woken in each other’s arms had been a tough one. Sighing, Willow remembered how she had leapt from the bed and acted all freaky for at least half an hour, whilst Tara had merely watched her, as though that was what she had expected all along.
“Don’t you remember that morning? You and me?” she whispered against the other girl’s ear, stealing a kiss on the patch of smooth neck just below the ear lobe. This elicited a giggle from Tara, who pulled her head away.
“Willow, that tickles.” She gave the redhead a smile of fond reproach and frowned, two little lines forming between her brows. Willow had a habit of thinking out loud and expecting her to understand exactly what it was she meant. Although, Tara smiled a secret inward grin, sometimes she did. Totally.
Sitting back, she looked her girlfriend in the face, knowing that unless they had this conversation, Willow wouldn’t leave her alone. How insistent she could be, Tara thought fondly, although Willow being the person she was, she was ever so cute when she was insistent.
“Okay, explain.” Tara said, reaching out to remove a strand of red hair from the other girl’s brow. Smoothing her fingers over the soft pale skin, she let her eyes sweep up and down the figure next to her, feeling the familiar ache of love inside her body. How lucky she was, to have found Willow. Trailing her fingers down Willow’s cheek, she leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, leaning back and smiling. “Who is acting like what’s happened?”
Glancing over to where Faith and Cordelia were engrossed in their own activities, Willow returned her cool green gaze to the blue eyes that were enquiring yet patient. “Faith and Cordy,” she said in a low conspiratorial tone, “They’ve been kind of funny with each other all morning. You know, like we were? That first time we…” Willow left the rest unsaid as a realisation crossed Tara’s face.
“Oooh, I see. But they’re – “ Tara looked over to them again, her face holding confusion and disbelief. She turned her gaze back to Willow again, a wry smile on her lips. “Well they’re always funny with each other. I think their friendship depends on them being, you know, nasty to one another.” She shook her head a little, as though unable to comprehend such behaviour. “Kinda weird huh?”
“Sure, if you think they’re friends.” Willow wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously at Tara, who giggled in reply and batted her on the arm playfully.
“Them? No way.” Tara shook her head firmly this time. “Cordelia’s, you know, she’s um…”
“Straight?” Willow reached up and stroked her girlfriend’s hair; long delicious strands of gold slipped through her fingers as she wondered at Tara’s naïveté and innocence, even when she knew that the other girl was as intelligent as her in some ways. That paradox in Tara was one of the characteristics she found so appealing. It made her love her all the more. “Well honey, so was I before I met you. And it’s pretty clear where Faith’s preferences lie. I was just, you know, wondering, that’s all,” her voice took on a singsong tone as she teased the blonde witch, “because you could cut the tension over there with a knife,” she paused briefly before adding, “or an axe.”
Both their gazes returned to Faith and Cordelia, intent on their own tasks. Faith let out a grunt as she swung the axe too high, pulling on her muscles. Dropping it to the floor, the clanging sound it made jerked Cordelia from her thoughts and her startled eyes leapt to where Faith was standing, her gasp audible in the relatively quiet room.
Faith turned, picking up the axe, her eyes meeting Cordelia’s as she bent down. Lifting the weapon easily, she shifted it from one hand to another, her balance moving from side to side. Looking at the girl now, she wanted to apologise again for what she had done last night. Cordy’s anxious gaze made her want to rush over there and hold her hand, or something stupid like that, she scowled, disgusted with herself. Any normal person would have left well alone. But not her, not the almighty Slayer who just couldn’t keep her hands to herself.
Hating her immobility, Faith could only watch as Cordy looked her up and down, the girl’s eyes holding something that the Slayer couldn’t define. She took it as fear, despising herself all the more. She was just about getting Cordy to like her as well! Maybe this making amends thing just wasn’t for her, she wondered, finally slinging the axe over her shoulder.
“Uh..I’ll…I’ll go practise outside,” she muttered, turning her back on the other girl and exiting to the garden terrace that ran down the side of the hotel.
Watching her go, Cordy’s heart sank and she returned to her book, gazing down at the pages with a long sigh. She rested her head on her hands and wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, what she had done wrong.
“Hey,” Willow peered down and caught Cordelia’s attention.
“Oh. Hey.” The voice that answered was as dismal as the face from which it emanated.
“You okay?” Willow sat down on the staircase beside Cordelia, tucking in the fringes of her long green tasselled skirt and wrapping her arms around her knees. She knew that whatever had happened, Cordelia definitely wasn’t okay. But, she had learned, a gentle shove in the right direction usually made a girl spill all that was on her mind.
“Yeah. Just reading.” Cordelia motioned towards the book on her knees with a weary finger.
Willow’s gaze followed the direction and a slow smile spread across her lips, lighting up her face with a mirth that made her hug her knees to herself in glee. “Uh, Cordy, the book’s upside down.”
On the garden terrace, Faith was sucking heavily on a cigarette, pulled from a crumpled packet that lay on the low wall beside her. She swung her legs over the top of the wall, letting them dangle down to the bank that dropped steeply on the other side. Letting out a plume of smoke, she shook her head and closed her eyes, letting the sunlight wash over her face. Footsteps behind her alerted her senses, although she didn’t open her eyes.
“Feel like talking?” Tara moved the axe that Faith had been training with and sat down the opposite way to the other girl, her clear blue eyes searching the Slayer’s face for some kind of response.
Faith shrugged. “What’s to talk about? I fucked up.” She inhaled again on the cigarette, opening her eyes to see the tip glow bright red, then added bitterly, “Again.”
A strand of hair, fluttering in the light breeze around them caught Tara’s attention from the corner of her eyes. She tucked it back behind her ear, hating it when Faith had minor setbacks; it always made her so despondent. Being the evil Slayer was a pretty hard job to resign from, her past experiences with Faith had told her that. But being the caring Slayer; she sighed, well that was clearly a toughie too.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She watched as Faith took a final drag on the cigarette then flicked it away, down the slope, breathing out a cloud of smoke as she did so. “Those things’ll kill you.”
“So you keep saying.” Faith intoned. She bit her lip for a second; gathering her thoughts, then turned to the one person she knew was her friend, absolutely, without judgement. “I’m not sure how I’m gonna do this,” she said, offering a tiny smile to Tara, who grinned back warmly and reached for her hand, squeezing it in her own.
“So why don’t you tell me then we can figure out how you can do it?”
Faith pressed her lips together. Even just the memory of last night filled her with shame. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to kiss Cordelia; she really had, ever since the other girl had softened towards her. No, it was just that she was ashamed of the way she had done it. She was sure she’d hurt the other girl, forcing herself on her like that. It was pretty clear that Cordy wasn’t interested. Vibrantly, screamingly clear.
“I kinda got carried away,” Faith began.
“…and then the next thing I know, Angel’s brought her in here and expects us all to run around looking after her!” Cordelia said, reaching down to pick at the sole of her sandal.
Willow cocked her head onto one side and looked at the other girl. All she had asked was if things with Faith were going okay, and a torrent of pent-up emotion had poured from the other girl, as though this was the first time she’d ever thought clearly about it. Willow clasped her fingers together and twiddled her thumbs for a second, thinking.
“I kind of thought you two were getting along,” she finally ventured, almost afraid of opening the floodgates again.
Cordelia turned to look at her, an expression of appalled amazement on her face. “Get along with her? God, Willow, you know what she’s like.” She turned away, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I know what she was like,” Willow countered, “She’s not the same. I mean, I had a really hard time figuring it out. But she’s different now. I think,” she watched as Cordy closed her eyes, trying not to listen, “she’s really getting somewhere. And I thought you were helping her.”
A snort of laughter came from Cordelia’s half open mouth and she glanced across at Willow for a second before raising her eyes heavenward. “Well I tried,” she said, her voice adopting the tone of one who has suffered for their pains, “But she is so difficult, it’s hard to know where to start.”
“She’s so difficult,” Faith said, her eyes gleaming with a trace of anger. “I mean, one minute she’s like, all friendly then the next,” she threw up her hands in despair, “freak out!”
Tara sighed. Getting Faith to talk about her emotions without a full-scale case of denial was hard enough. But getting her to talk about emotions when she was obviously upset by them was practically impossible. She put her hands down by the side of her jean-clad legs, feeling the relative coolness of the wall underneath her palms. Leaning her head forwards, she gazed down at her sneakers for a second. She’d seen Faith troubled like this, only, she reminded herself, it wasn’t because of a friendship then, either.
“So you want her as a friend then?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Faith nodded vigorously, “no…oh I don’t know!” She slapped her hand down onto her thigh, the contact making a smacking noise on the leather trousers she wore. She hung her head and let her hair fall forwards to cover her face. Hiding, that was the only option she had now. If she hid away long enough, then perhaps she would just get swallowed up and wouldn’t have to deal with all of this.
“It doesn’t matter anyways,” she muttered, in a voice so low that Tara could barely hear her. “Not like she’ll talk to me again after last night.”
“So what did happen last night?” Willow leaned back on the stairway, resting her elbow on the step just above her waist.
Cordelia flushed bright red for a second and shook her head. “It’s not something a girl discusses,” she said, her tone bordering on imperious.
A wry smile crossed the lips of the redhead beside her and she nodded. “So something did happen then?” she enquired innocently, knowing full well that it had.
“No…kind of…well, yes, as a matter of fact it did.” Cordelia did a full 360 in the space of ten seconds. She looked away from Willow, to where the doorway led out to the terrace, wondering if Faith was still out there. Her thoughts returned once again to the electric kiss they had shared last night. Even if Faith had been making fun of her, it had still been something she would never forget. Only, she thought sadly, kissing Faith had only confirmed something she was desperate to forget.
“Well?” Willow probed, growing a little impatient at how long all of this was taking.
“Faith and I got to talking about personal stuff.” Cordelia said, trying to make light of it. “I said something she didn’t like and then she said something I didn’t like and then we both said – “
“Okay, I get it.” Willow grinned. “You’re totally crushing on her, you know that?”
A shocked pair of eyes met hers and an indignant noise escaped Cordelia’s mouth. “No I am not!” she breathed. Hearing someone say it was much, much worse than just thinking it.
“Oh you so are!” Willow laughed, throwing her head back.
“Thanks for the sympathy.” Cordy said wryly, viewing the other girl with not a little dent in her feelings.
“Wow. You kissed her.” Tara took a few moments to comprehend the rush of words that Faith had just thrown at her. She glanced at the Slayer’s face, part hidden behind a curtain of dark hair, and then back at her knees. Not a surprise, she told herself, well, not that much of a surprise anyway. The way they had been teasing each other last night was kind of cute, but…kissing? Already?
“I didn’t mean to, I mean, you know, the girl, the night, the really bad argument.” Faith’s attempt at humour waned in the light of her confession. She looked out over the garden, rolling away from her down to some trees at the hotel’s limits. At least she’d got it out in the open now, she thought, she should be congratulating herself. Well, guess who doesn’t feel any better, her inner voice told her firmly.
“No, no, it’s not a bad thing.” Tara tried to backtrack over what Faith had obviously interpreted as disapproval. She shrugged as the Slayer’s eyes turned to look at her in disbelief. “You know, um, she likes you, you like her.”
“Yeah,” Faith let out a mirthless laugh. “She likes me so much she ain’t said a word to me all morning.” Reaching for her packet of cigarettes, she flicked one into her mouth and lit it hastily, sucking in the smoke. “I can’t win with her. Nothing I do is right. ‘Sides, she was curious. Ain’t the same as wanting someone is it?”
“Well, no but – “Tara began.
“See.” Faith shrugged and put the cigarette into her mouth again, inhaling deeply. “And I know what you’re thinking, that this is me doin’ what I do best, screwin’ up people so they don’t know their ass from their elbow. But I kinda like her. She don’t take no shit. That’s Cordy all over.”
Tara smiled. It was as close to a compliment as Cordelia was likely to get from Faith right now. But it was enough. “Why don’t you just talk to her?” she urged.
“Talk? To Faith?” Cordelia laughed tonelessly and shook her head, stretching out her legs on the stairway. She smoothed her hands down the sleek skin, perfectly tanned, then looked up at Willow, sitting beside her. “Have you ever tried to have a conversation with Faith, Willow? It’s like beating your head against a brick wall. Only brick walls have more sensitivity.”
Willow sighed, “You might at least tell her how you feel. I mean, how bad can it be?”
Cordy looked at Willow as if she was insane. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sniffed, “Did you not hear what I just said? Brick wall. Hard. Hurts the head.” She leant back on the stairs and looked once more at the doorway leading to the terrace. “I’m not sure if she’ll want to talk to me anyway,” she added, her voice soft and vulnerable. Turning back to the redhead, she pulled a face and poked Willow in the ribs. “I blame you, you know. Coming here and putting thoughts in my head.”
“Sure,” Willow laughed, “Well Tara and I like to spread the word, you know?” She watched a fleeting smile cover the other girl’s lips for a moment before it disappeared and the anxiety returned. “Listen Cordy,” she sat up, assuming a serious expression, “You have to do this, if it’s what you want.”
“Well that’s just it,” Cordelia sighed. “I’m not sure if it is.”
The sound of footsteps made them both look up, to see Tara approaching, a reluctant Faith behind her. Cordelia instinctively patted down her hair and pulled at the hem of her short skirt, rising to her feet. She was aware that she had never felt so nervous in her life. And judging by the way Faith’s eyes were darting anywhere than towards her, the Slayer felt the same way.
“Willow,” Tara’s soft voice reached them, “Can I see you outside for a minute?”
“Well Cordy and I were just – “
“Willow?” Tara’s voice was firmer, alerting her girlfriend to some compassion at least. She raised her eyebrows and motioned with her head towards Faith, then jerked it back in the direction of the terrace. Sometimes, she groaned inwardly, her girlfriend was about as perceptive as a rock.
Willow caught on and her mouth dropped open. She looked at Faith, then back at Cordelia, then across to Tara. Nodding, she practically tiptoed towards the blonde witch in something akin to vaudeville style. In other circumstances, Tara thought, it would have been funny. She reached forwards, grabbing Willow’s hand, and ushered her outside.
“Hi!” Cordelia said, far too brightly. She felt her voice begin to tremble, and shut her mouth again. Looking at Faith standing in front of her, she descended the steps, hoping to create a good impression if nothing else. When she reached the bottom step, she was about to manage a sentence of clarity, when it hit her. Crashing inside her head, like a lightning bolt of searing red-hot pain, it caught her, spinning her downwards.
As she fell towards the ground, clutching her head, Faith darted forwards, catching the other girl in her arms. Her head whipping around wildly, the Slayer realised that there was no one on hand to help with this. A vision, she assumed, a look of fear on her face. She hadn’t liked it the last time; she liked it even less now that she cared about the girl writhing in her arms.
Gently she lowered Cordelia to the ground, as the girl pounded her hand against her temple, trying to free the pain she felt throbbing there. Faith cradled Cordy’s head in her lap, stroking at the girl’s hair as a sob freed itself from her throat. Cordy was whimpering now, as the pain began to subside, the wave of brightness receding inside her head. Opening her eyes, she saw two dark worried pools of russet gazing down at her.
“Cor? Are you…how is it?” Faith whispered, her fingers still entwined in Cordelia’s hair.
Trying to hold the vision of Faith’s face, instead of the terrible pictures she had seen in her mind, Cordelia moaned, reaching up to touch the calloused hand of the Slayer, gripping it tightly. She closed her eyes, pressing her eyelids hard together in an effort to bring words to her lips.
“She’s coming,” she whispered, her eyes fearful and wide. “Oh Faith, she’s coming back.”
Part 11
“Wesley, you’re with me; Willow, Tara, get your spell together, we’re going to need it. Soon.” Angel marched through the foyer of the hotel, barking orders as the group scattered to his will. He paused when he reached the sofa, looking down at the figure of the dark Slayer, still cradling Cordelia’s head on her lap. The other girl was recovering, although, Angel noted inwardly, every time she had a vision, it was getting longer and longer before she felt better.
“What about me?” Faith looked up at him, her eyes pooling to wide orbs of worry. She shifted slightly and the girl in her arms moaned, making Faith glance down and pat her head softly, albeit awkwardly.
“You…” Angel took in the realisation at a glance. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Cordelia acting so strangely around the place; Faith’s fervency in wanting to prove herself…he sighed to himself and flicked his gaze towards the door, then back to Faith. “You look after Cordy.” As Faith opened her mouth to protest, he leant in closer and whispered almost conspiratorially, “She’s going to need some protection if the Leanan Sidhe turns up. She’s weak right now.”
A determined line spread across Faith’s lips and she nodded curtly, turning back to Cordelia. “I’m here Cor,” she whispered, “Whether you like it or not, I’m here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Willow and Tara had pulled a pair of huge cushions into the centre of the marble floor. Behind them, the staircase swept up and away into the darkness above. They sat down, sharing a nervous glance at one another before gathering their ingredients around them.
“So you two are okay?” Angel stood beside them, his face working around the worry in his voice.
Willow nodded, “Sure. We’re fine. And when this spirit gets here…” she trailed off, reaching for Tara’s hand and holding it tightly, “we’ll still be fine. Don’t worry about us Angel. We’ll get her.”
“It’s not that I’m worried about,” the vampire drew his brows together for a moment, “It’s what happens if she gets you.”
The look that Willow cast across to her girlfriend hinted that she felt the same way. However, Tara turned her gaze up to meet Angel’s. Again, he felt a sneaking suspicion that he had met the blonde witch somewhere before. That he knew her from somewhere. But that was silly; he had met her for the first time when Willow had brought her to LA. Hadn’t he?
“She may be powerful, but together,” Tara turned back to smile warmly at Willow, “we’re pretty strong too. Besides, my mother once…” she trailed off for a second, remembering something she didn’t wish to share right now, in case she lost her focus, “…I-I’ve seen this done before. Something like this. We can do it.”
The redhead opposite her nodded, setting her lips into the firm line that Tara knew heralded impending doom for creatures of a demonic nature. She wanted to smile at Willow’s eagerness and determination. That was one of the things, one of many, she smiled inwardly, that had initially attracted her to the other girl. If a thing was worth doing, then it was worth doing one hundred and fifty percent, Willow always used to say. Turning to face one another, they locked gazes, whilst their hands reached instinctively to grasp the others. The moment their fingers touched, each felt a jolt of the power they engendered between them.
Angel retreated to a safe distance whilst the two witches murmured their incantation, their hands hovering over a small bowl. Occasionally, one of them would reach down and add a pinch of the herbs that lay between them. He frowned; surely something should be happening by now? All he could see was two girls, talking in low voices, sprinkling herbs into the brown pottery bowl on the floor. Tension grew inside of him, although he knew he should wait. He pressed himself against the cool leather surface of the sofa, his fingers denting the material with deep furrows.
Faith craned her neck to see what was going on. As Wesley moved to stand beside Angel, she felt Cordelia shifting against her slightly. Looking down, she saw the other girl’s eyes open and register a worried face gazing down at her. Struggling up into a sitting position, Cordelia instinctively patted at her hair, her face working itself into an expression of confusion.
“What..?” she began, but was silenced by Faith glaring at her and shaking her head.
“Don’t talk,” Faith whispered, “Just rest. You had a crazy vision and you know, kinda wigged out.” She put her hand over Cordelia’s, resting on the couch beside her. The other girl’s eyes swivelled downwards to acknowledge the movement, and Faith pulled away, as though burned. She shrugged, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Cordelia said hastily, but Faith had shifted away from her on the sofa, a glazed look appearing in her eyes. Eyes, Cordy noticed, that no longer looked towards her. Biting at her bottom lip, Cordy sat up and sighed inwardly. Great Cordy, she thought, done it again. For a second, she contemplated taking Faith’s rough hand in her own again, but instead, fear getting the better of her, she followed the Slayer’s gaze to where the two witches sat.
“Earth and Water, sustaining and bonding, combine and balance your powers in our hearts. In the name of Arianrhod, Celtic Star Goddess, bring to us the one we seek. Bind her to our call.” Willow sprinkled some dogweed into the pot in front of them, a grey mist rising as she did so.
“Air and Fire, inspiring and burning, combine and balance your powers in our hearts. In the name of Cernunnos, God of the Witches, bring to us the one we seek. Bind her to our call.” Tara picked up the refrain, bending to pour in a few drops of myrrh to the mix. The ingredients began to hiss slightly, causing the grey mist to turn blue, rising and weaving its way upward.
“In supplication we come; with reverence we ask; what is done is done; whatever may come to pass.” The two witches spoke with one voice, a glimmer of golden light rising around them, forming a circle of shining light that flickered off their faces, reflected in their eyes, locked on the others.
Faith’s mouth opened slightly. She’d seen the two do spells, but that was separately. She’d never seen the purity they created between them before. It truly was magickal, she told herself. She was witnessing something special, she knew that. A glance at Cordelia beside her confirmed that the other girl was similarly dumbstruck as well.
Both Willow and Tara were sweating now, beads of perspiration rolling from their foreheads. But they never once lost hold on the others hands, holding them, shaking as they were with the effort, over the pot from which the mist emanated.
Billowing upwards, the mist moved towards the entrance doors of the hotel, flowing up to the ceiling then rolling downwards, stretching out, filling in a dark shape. It seemed to take form, then lost it again, as though the shape couldn’t quite find stability.
The circle of light around the two witches rose upwards, travelling the length of their bodies as they sat on the floor. When it reached head level, both of the witches were breathing heavily, imbued with supernatural power. For a second, time seemed to stand still, the light straining within the confines of their magickal net. Then it seemed to implode; yet at the same time stretch outwards, filling, it seemed, every corner of the room. The observers by the sofa covered their eyes as the light shone so brightly it was like a second sun. Then it disappeared.
“W-Willow?” Tara reached out, finding that she had broken the hold with her girlfriend. She had been thrown backwards by the power of the spell, and pushing herself upwards, she saw Willow doing the same. Their eyes met. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Willow put a hand to her head, whilst her other one slipped gratefully into Tara’s. As their eyes locked gazes, a flicker of the power of the spell shone briefly between them and they both shivered, although not unpleasantly.
Angel appeared by them, silently and cautiously. He held out his hands and helped them to their feet, a little shaky and spellshocked. “You both alright?” he asked, a concerned look colouring his features.
Willow smoothed down the folds of her skirt, looking up at him. She glanced across to where Faith sat on the sofa, white-faced and expression taut with tension. “Sure, nothing like a good spell to brush the cobwebs away,” she quipped; trying to ignore the dizzy feeling that seeped into her head.
“That nausea will pass,” Tara said instinctively, knowing that Willow would no doubt feel the same way she did. Pushing at her hair, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs. “It’s a powerful spell. It gives us a head start for the next one, the binding spell?”
Angel nodded curtly, more worried about how they were right now than how they were going to be in the future. He squinted again at Tara, recognising a certain expression that fled briefly across her features before disappearing again. That nagging feeling returned, a familiarity he almost knew. He pushed it aside, turning his thoughts to more pertinent matters.
“So, did it work? Will she come?” Faith’s voice alerted them all, spinning around to look at her where she now stood by the sofa.
Willow shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out –“
The doors to the hotel flew open, with a boom that hit all the occupants of the foyer to the bone, resounding in their senses. In the doorway, a dark, hooded figure stood, no, not stood, hovered. The Leanan Sidhe’s feet were a good foot above the floor, her face partially covered by the huge hood over her head. For a second no one spoke, all were momentarily mesmerised by her presence, dramatic as it was.
“Uh…now?” Willow said in a small voice.
Part 12
“Holy shit,” Faith was the first to speak, moving forward, shoving Willow and Tara behind her as she assumed a fighting stance.
The Leanan Sidhe seemed to glow with energy. Sparks flew from her fingertips, crashing to the marble surface of the foyer, glowing red-hot for a second before snuffing out. There was a humming sensation, as though her power was vibrating, not just throughout the room, but throughout the people in it as well.
Willow grabbed Tara’s arm, her fingers digging in painfully deep. But Tara hardly felt the sensation, transfixed as she was by the figure hovering before them. Angel moved quickly, walking in front of them, demanding their attention.
“The binding spell,” he urged, as their eyes moved to his face, pulled tight in anxiety. “Whatever you do, don’t look at her eyes.” They nodded in mute obedience, stumbling rather than walking to where their tools lay on the coffee table.
Wesley had come forward and stood beside Angel, slipping a huge battleaxe into his hand, and another into Faith’s curled fist, clenched down by her side. As the three warriors took up an offensive position, the Leanan Sidhe brought her hands up to the hood covering her face, and slowly slid it from her head.
The features underneath the face didn’t even try to attempt humanity anymore. The shimmering quality of the two eyes that swept the room seemed to stretch out a beam of light, seeking the figures of the humans like a beacon. Angel, Wesley and Faith averted their gazes, although it took something like superhuman strength to do so. All three of them heard a whispering echo deep within their heads, willing them to look, imploring them to see. Faith screwed up her eyes tight and shook her head, thinking of something that would stop her wanting to be seduced; something that would prevent her from falling into the arms of beauty.
Then it hit her.
The one thing that constantly bumped her back to the ground when she was flying too high to ever come down. Cordy. Cordelia. Turning her mind inwards, she wrestled with the desire for a moment; a moment that brought out a sheen of sweat on her brow. Cordelia. She saw the girl’s face in her head. Cordelia. Her sharp tones ringing out stridently. Cordelia. Her own lips, kissing the girl, how it made her feel. Yeah, Cordelia. Irritating, insufferable, snotty Cordelia. The surprise Faith felt raced through her veins, mixing with a pleasure she wasn’t sure she would feel again. And it made her bold. It made her want, more than anything, to face this. And win.
Turning her face upwards, Faith’s bottom jaw jutted out defiantly and she held the axe in both hands, sensing rather than seeing where the spirit floated. She was ready.
Protected by the sofa, Tara, Willow and Cordelia slumped down in the space between the chairs. The two witches fumbled with their tools, as Cordy watched them, eyes as big as dinner plates.
“What’s going to happen?” she asked in hushed tones, not daring to even glance towards her protectors.
Tara answered without looking up from where she was separating leaves from the stem of a brown plant. “We’re going to do the binding spell and she’s going to go away.” Her voice was tense, almost abrupt.
“What if she –“
“She won’t,” Willow said firmly.
“But –“
“Cordy, she won’t,” Willow paused for a second to place her hand over the other girls for a second, her green eyes brimming with concern and not a little fear. “We can do this. Okay?” When the other girl didn’t answer, Willow squeezed her arm, “Okay?” Cordelia nodded mutely, curling her slight body into a small ball, slipping her arms around her knees.
“Ready?” Willow breathed, looking over at Tara. The other girl nodded and they joined hands again.
The Leanan Sidhe gazed down at the humans and vampire in front of her. A look of distaste curled her lip, raised over yellowed fangs and blood red lips. Her face still retained some of the heart stopping beauty, but it was buried deep amidst the furrows and lines that the true demonic nature of her self showed. Her eyes though, shone out, clear and true. Piercing reminders of who, or what, she had become.
“And still you choose to defend your puny humanity.” Her voice was lower than before, a silken growl. Still holding some of the seduction she had thrown at them in her previous appearance, but now more dangerous, more threatening than ever before.
“Some of us think it’s not so bad,” Faith said, her voice betraying none of the fear she felt edging its way up her spine. She fixed her eyes on a spot to the right of the spirit, seeing the figure only as a shadow at the edge of her vision. The axe wavered in her hand; she gripped the handle tighter, her hands biting into the hard wooden shaft.
“You know nothing!” the spirit laughed. Not a good laugh, Faith noted. It was always a bad sign when the villains started laughing. On the plus side, it really revved her up. She gritted her teeth, taking a step forward.
“You choose to stand against me, or with me. Against me you will surely die. Angelus knows this, don’t you my darling?” The spirit’s tones caressed Angel’s senses as he felt his face morph into vamp mode. Trying to contain the demon when he was so close to such seductive evil was useless; he could only snarl a reply, his yellow eyes sending him blurred visions of the floor. Don’t look, don’t look, he repeated to himself, don’t let her win this time.
“But what my Angelus doesn’t know, is that when I’m done with the souls here,” the spirit waved her hand towards Wesley and Faith, throwing a line of sparks onto the floor, “I shall take him last. As recompense.” A smile split the features of her face as she moved down the stairs, ever closer.
The humming in Faith’s head increased, almost obliterating the one clear thought she was holding. Before it flickered and went out, like a candle in strong wind, she knew this was her only time. All this could be hers. She corrected herself; it could be theirs.
“You know,” the dark Slayer tensed the muscles in her arm, preparing to strike, “Ten outa ten for the entrance and all, and hey, great speech. But,” she took a breath, “the only thing you’ll be taking is a long trip back to whatever crappy dimension you came from.”
Hardly giving the spirit chance to register her words, Faith leapt forward, swinging the axe in a huge arc that ended somewhere, she hoped, in the spirit’s head. Flaming sparks flew at the Slayer, some lodging and glowing red in the sleeve of her jacket for a few seconds as her arms pushed the axe downwards, swooping with deadly accuracy. The Leanan Sidhe held up her arm, her bony taloned hand gripping the axe handle, stopping it dead. The reverberations of the failed blow ricocheted down Faith’s arms, crippling her muscles and eliciting a cry of pain, folding her face in agony. With a hiss, the Leanan Sidhe turned to Faith, the Slayer averting her eyes just in time.
“Slayer,” hot fetid breath reached Faith as the spirit breathed dead air at her, “You cannot stop me.”
Angel dashed forwards, making the most of this opportunity to find a weakness. He swung his own axe at the spirit, aiming true and clear, the blade sinking deep into her side. A cry of pain from the spirit released her grip on the axe that Faith held, as Wesley darted to help Angel, his own sword plunging deep into the heart of the spirit.
Throwing up her arms in the air, the spirit staggered backwards, clutching at her stomach. The three warriors pulled back their weapons, preparing for the second wave, Faith spinning round on one foot to send her boot slamming into the cloaked body before her.
The spirit’s eyes glowed a deeper emerald, as though a cold fire burned within. Shaking off the pain that the mortals had caused her, she stood again, holding out her hands. A jet of flame flowed out towards Angel, making him throw himself backwards to avoid it. He felt the heat sear inches from his skin as he scrabbled across the floor, singing at the dark sweater he wore. He gasped, looking at Faith, meeting her eyes in a plea for help.
Letting out a cry of anguish and fury, Faith swung the axe in front of her in wide sweeps, each one just missing the spirit, almost nicking the velvet of her cloak. Knowing that she was getting nowhere, she threw the axe to one side and ploughed in with her fists, her feet, anything she felt could inflict pain on the demon before her.
Wesley cast a look back towards Angel, then thrust his sword forward, the blade sinking deep into the spirit again. He found himself practically face to face with the Leanan Sidhe and teetered for a moment on the brink of despair as he felt a hand clutch his throat. Holding him up, the spirit looked into his eyes, bonding with him, tasting his soul. A smile formed on her lips as she bent her head to his.
“Wes!” Faith screamed, moving forwards again. The spirit merely held out her hand towards the Slayer, pushing her back with invisible force so that Faith’s body went skittering across the floor, landing heavily on the hard marble.
“You humans, always thinking you can defeat what you do not know,” the spirit hissed into Wesley’s face. “You are nothing. Nothing!” She leaned in closer, seeing her reflection in the British man’s spectacles, and drew back. Changing her mind as suddenly as she had grabbed him, she lifted her mouth in what seemed like disdain. “Impure, tainted soul!” she screamed, lifting Wesley high in her grasp then throwing him away from her, back to the bottom of the staircase. The sword he had plunged into her went with him, as he fell awkwardly, his body lying inert at the foot of the stairs.
Tara and Willow watched as the light began to glow in the makeshift cauldron they had created. A ball of green light, almost as clear and thick as the spirit’s eyes, was forming in the base of the cauldron, growing in intensity, humming to the same vibration as the Leanan Sidhe. The ancient words they had memorised flew from their lips, as though by some unseen force. Their grasp tightened on one another, fingers turning white as they held onto what each of them knew to be the only truth they had.
Cordelia watched, hardly bearing to know where to look. When Faith had been tossed aside again like a rag doll, the girl’s heart had pounded unmercifully in her chest, aching to go to her. Without knowing, Cordelia realised that she had her knuckles pressed firmly into her mouth, to stop herself from screaming the Slayer’s name.
“And to thine own thou must return, and in thy hell thy soul shall burn,” Tara said, forcing the words out with some effort. Her vision was hazed and she knew that if they didn’t complete the spell soon, then all would be lost.
“If once you know the purest soul, then mortal form be yours to hold,” Willow added, a light-headedness pulling at her senses, drifting her off course, tempting her to the blackness where she knew she could rest.
“Inner, outer, lesser, more, pull thy spirit through hellish door,” Tara intoned, her eyes finding Willow’s and communicating without words. It gave the redhead some lift of spirit, some hope. She attempted a smile, but found that her mouth could only finish the incantation as the green ball of light overflowed in the cauldron and seeped down the sides, pluming in waves of mist to the floor.
“A-and whither thou go, thou be not known, and hide thy face, and be not shown,” Willow gasped, feeling the power rip through her, in her, against her.
Faith scrambled to her feet and advanced upon the Leanan Sidhe, who was moving towards Angel where he still lay on the floor, rapt, it seemed in the thrall of the spirit. His vampiric features struggled to contain the demon within as the figure he had once adored smiled down at him.
“My Angelus. Will you never return to me?” she spoke in a cooing tone. It seemed sickening to the vampire that he had ever felt a kinship with this…this thing. Shaking his head, he tried to break free of the tantalising bonds she was working around him, her magick, and her spell.
“I only want what is mine by right. The purest soul. The innocent one. Find it for me Angelus, that is all I ask of you.”
Faith threw her fist into the side of the Leanan Sidhe’s face where it met with a sickening crunch of bone. She followed up with a roundhouse kick, spinning and wheeling around the spirit as it tried to regain its balance. Facing Faith, it held up its hands, the sparks glinting from its fingertips as the Slayer danced and dodged until it felt like some ancient courting ritual. The two circled each other; Faith’s fists clenched and her eyes screwed half shut. She leapt, knocking the spirit to the ground, her eyes wild and full of the old bloodlust that had driven her on so many times before. Pummelling and punching, she laid blow after blow on the spirit’s face, body, anywhere she could get to. It didn’t matter that her knuckles were becoming bruised and bloody; it didn’t matter that the spirit had its hands around her neck; it didn’t matter that she was getting weaker and weaker. She had to kill it. Had to do something to stop all of this.
Rearing back, Faith crooked her arm, ready to deliver a deathblow, when the spirit rolled her over, gripping the Slayer’s throat like razor blades, thin lines of blood weeping from where the nails were embedded in her skin. Faith gasped, looking death in the face.
“I should have broken your neck last time, Slayer,” the spirit hissed down at her, its voice rasping as harshly as the nails on her neck. “This time I shall succeed.”
Before the Leanan Sidhe could move, a green mist blanketed the air around the two of them, covering them quickly and dangerously, deadening the air between them.
“No,” the spirit forgot about her task and looked up, eyes at once reflecting the colour all around her. For a second, a look of mortal fear flashed through her eyes, panicking her expression. “No!” she said again, this time louder. She pushed herself up from where Faith lay on the floor, vision blurred, watching as if through a gauze. Standing, the Leanan Sidhe looked towards the origin of the mist and saw two figures staring right at her. “NOOOOOO!” she screamed.
Struggling up onto her elbows, Faith squinted through the green cloud and coughed, letting the air flow down her windpipe. “Willow, Tara,” she croaked, unaware that they could no longer hear her, “Don’t look…don’t…” She fell back onto the floor; despair flooding her veins, leaving her cold.
The Leanan Sidhe looked at the two girls, her eyes registering, seeking, and then finding. An expression close to delight came over her, as Willow covered her eyes, turning away. But Tara stood firm. Her unblinking blue gaze met the spirit’s in a moment of sheer calm.
“The innocent one. The purest soul.” The spirit’s voice was a whisper of bliss, but Tara heard it well enough. Holding out her hand, the Leanan Sidhe took a step forward, finding that she was held by the mist, bound by its confines. “Dear one, I’ve found you,” she continued, beckoning for Tara to go to her. The blonde witch obeyed, her movement alerting Willow. Grasping just too late, the redhead shouted her girlfriend’s name and clutched at nothing but air as she saw her love go to the spirit.
A look of greedy contentment filled the demonic eyes as Tara approached. At the same time, Angel lifted himself from the floor, leaning heavily over the back of the sofa, everything clearing now.
“At last,” the spirit whispered, “I have searched for you, my true one. You who can complete me, as I can complete you. Come,” she crooked her finger as Tara approached the boundaries of the green mist, “come and let us be one. Let us complete each other.”
“No,” Angel whispered, seeing now who and what Tara was. Understanding why he had recognised her. Feeling again the guilt he had carried with him for so many decades. Breathing heavily, he tried to move, tried to shout, but found that his body, his human body, was useless.
“In the ancient texts, it writes of the one pure of soul. When I feed on that soul, I become one with purity.” The Leanan Sidhe’s voice was steady, tinged with a hint of excitement and almost disbelief. “Become one with me. Let me complete you. Let me return to the mortal world to hunt and live again. Forever.”
“Tara!” Willow’s pitiful cry came to the two, standing face to face.
The blonde witch didn’t seem to register her girlfriend’s plea. She looked into the Leanan Sidhe’s eyes, her gaze stretching deep down beyond the shimmering green, so like another. As she opened her mouth to speak, the spirit smiled a perfect smile, one of love, one of fulfilment.
“No,” Tara said simply.
The smile dropped from the spirit’s face. “Pure one, taste the pleasure I have to give you, drink from my bounteous table, devour my magick,” a hint of desperation flooded the spirit’s tone.
“No,” Tara repeated. “I am complete. I’m more complete now than I’ve ever been. I can’t imagine anything making me feel more loved, more whole, more magickal than what I have.”
“What you have?” the spirit sneered, reaching out once more, her hand unable to penetrate the green mist in front of her. “You have mortality, a human body that withers and dies. What use is that when I offer an endless life of pleasure within me? Tell me Pure one, what is it that is so precious to you here?”
Tara swallowed, taking a short breath before speaking. “Love.”
The spirit threw her head back, as though to laugh, when the mist closed in on her. Her grin became a grimace, fading to a wide-eyed expression of pain as a cry of agony leapt from her throat, echoing around the foyer with a resonance that pierced the ears of all listening. The mist thickened, enclosing the spirit, moving in on her, holding her, smothering her. Fighting against it to the last, the Leanan Sidhe fell.
Underneath her, Faith covered her face with her hands, expecting the heavy body to drop onto her own. As the last resounding yell of the Leanan Sidhe died away, the Slayer dared to remove her arms from her face, looking up into…empty space.
Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she gazed around at the hotel foyer. Wesley was coming to, groaning at the foot of the stairs. Angel was by his side, helping him up, his face now back to human form. Tara and Willow were in each other’s arms, in an embrace that spoke more than any words could ever do. And Cordelia…Faith looked at the girl curled up by the sofa, tear-stained cheeks bearing the ravages of the battle she had witnessed. A lump filled Faith’s throat as she got to her feet and struggled painfully over to where Cordy huddled. Putting an arm on her shoulder, the Slayer knelt down to Cordy’s level.
“Cor? Cordelia? It’s over,” she whispered.
The other girl looked up at the Slayer, her eyes brimming with sparkling tears, then threw herself into Faith’s arms and sobbed.
Epilogue
“So you were the one of purest soul?” Wesley sipped gratefully at the hot cup of tea that he held in a still rather shaky hand. He was reclining on the sofa in the foyer, surrounded by the others, all battle scarred but alive. Which, he reminded himself for the tenth time that minute, was a good thing. He knew he would appreciate it later on, when the feeling had the opportunity to return to his legs.
Tara blushed and nodded. Willow reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. They had been inseparable since the Leanan Sidhe had been sent back to her own dimension, and quite rightly so. Willow felt a swell of love for the girl that brought a huge lump to her throat. Tara had chosen her over everything, to save them all, to save what she deemed precious and worth living for. She turned her gaze onto her girlfriend and shot her a warm look, nestling closer to her on the sofa.
“Quite remarkable,” Wesley muttered, almost to himself, taking another sip of tea.
“I knew…I thought I knew you from somewhere.” Angel’s quiet voice came to them from the armchair, where he sat, fingers templed in thought. Looking across at Tara, he frowned. “But if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted to…to do the spell right. I didn’t want anyone worrying more than they should have.” Tara explained, her eyes darting around the group. “Besides,” she added, “it was always going to be a test of my will. My mother prepared me for that. She always told me that when my time came, it would be something I had to do on my own.”
“And you did.” Willow trailed a finger down her girlfriend’s cheek, smiling softly.
Tara shot the redhead an affectionate glance before turning back to Angel. “What you did, you know, before? It’s over now, you know that don’t you?” Her blue gaze questioned him, although they both knew the answer. He nodded briefly in reply, accepting her forgiveness, knowing that true forgiveness could only come from himself. He abhorred his weakness, his lapse into his old self, even if just for a second. And he knew that although the pure of soul might forgive him, it would be a long time before he could ever let himself off the hook.
“Jeez Tara, you’re a dark horse,” Faith said suddenly. She had remained silent for the longest time, sitting in deep contemplation, Cordelia beside her. The two girls had sat close, but without the obvious affection that Willow and Tara showed. White strain traced lines down Faith’s face, towards the sticking plaster that covered the puncture wounds on her neck made by the Leanan Sidhe and her razor sharp nails.
Willow let out a laugh, “Don’t like mystery women then Faith?”
Faith shifted in her seat, unable to comprehend the purity that had touched her life. Was this why Tara was a good friend to her? Was this why fate had chosen to throw them together? It was pretty confusing on a good day, never mind in the aftermath of a difficult battle. The dark Slayer shook her head, her brown gaze flicking up to see Willow and Tara. Friends. That was what it was all about, she guessed, feeling the warmth of their smiles touching her even now.
“Mystery women? Me? No way,” she shook her head decisively, “I like my girls plain and simple. In fact, the plainer and simpler the better.”
Everyone except Cordelia laughed at that comment. Willow caught the pained expression that filtered into Cordy’s eyes and decided to suggest that they order Chinese, as an after banishing treat. Wesley and Angel retreated to the office with the two witches to argue over their choice of banquet. Angel’s protestations against a side order of pig’s blood trailed with the small group as they left Cordelia and Faith alone on the sofa.
For a moment neither girl spoke, then Faith twisted round in her seat, trying to hold her neck still to keep her plasters in place. She looked at Cordy, still shell shocked by the experience.
“You holdin’ up?” she enquired, leaning close to search Cordy’s eyes for signs of life.
Cordelia clicked into her usual mode, waving a hand around dismissively. “Me? Oh sure…I mean, you’ve battled one soul-sucking spirit from the nether worlds, you’ve pretty much battled them all…” her voice trailed away as fresh tears sprung into her eyes.
“Hey,” Faith moved closer, placing a hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “We kicked that ass. You were there. You saw it.”
Cordy sniffed, “Sure, I saw you almost get ripped to shreds and thrown halfway back to Sunnydale. That’s a real ass kicking.” She pressed her lips together, not wanting to look into the brown orbs that sought her own. Not wanting to admit that she was scared of losing Faith again.
The dark Slayer sat back, a wry smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She pulled at the sleeve of her jacket, noting with some annoyance, the tiny burn holes that the Leanan Sidhe had made. “You know Cor, once you get through that sarcastic bitch ‘tude of yours, you’re not so bad.” She glanced across at the other girl to see her half smiling.
“Says you, the famous bitch Slayer type.” Cordy shot back, although it was with some affection in her eyes.
“Well some of us got a rep to protect,” Faith nodded, pushing at her hair with one hand. “And some of us,” her gaze returned to Cordelia’s once more, seeking the other girl for some kind of recognition, “need to know a good thing when they got it.”
“Really?” Cordelia pushed herself up on the sofa, aware that Faith was very close. The hairs on the back of her arm began to stand up, as her nerves prickled uncomfortably. No, she corrected herself, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just…what was the word…unfamiliar? Yeah, that was it, unfamiliar. She brought her gaze up to meet Faith’s, “So who’s got a good thing then?”
The Slayer leant in close; so close that she could smell Cordelia’s perfume. It seemed almost intoxicating, drawing her in even further. A smile curved her lips and her eyelids fluttered shut for a second. “That’s for you to decide,” she whispered.
“Hey you,” Willow pulled Tara to one side of the office, leading her out to the garden terrace where they could finally be alone.
The breeze that greeted them was warm, carrying perhaps, a storm, heralded by dark clouds gathering overhead. Tara turned her face up towards the sky, feeling the damp in the air, although it wasn’t a bit cold.
Willow stood behind her and put her arms around her girlfriend, holding her close. She breathed in the scent that was purely Tara, a scent of fresh hair and sandalwood; mixed with something she couldn’t quite define. But then, she told herself, that was Tara all over; always something that Willow could never quite define. And she never wanted to, she added mentally, they both had many years stretching ahead of them to discover everything there was to know.
“I’m sorry I didn’t, you know, tell you.” Tara said suddenly, her hand moving to clasp Willow’s where they lay on her stomach. She sighed, “So many things I needed to do and you were there trusting me every step of the way.”
“I had no reason not to,” Willow said, her voice muffled against Tara’s back. She tightened her grip slightly, “You have a gift, Tara, and you’re special. I’ve always known that.”
Twisting round in the redhead’s embrace, Tara put her own arms around the slight figure of the girl she loved more than anything in the world. Looking down into the green eyes that met her own seriously, her heart clenched with love as it usually did when she was with Willow in their more intimate moments.
“You know the real reason I could refuse the spirit Willow?” she spoke softly, reaching up to touch the other girl’s cheek with her hand, laying her palm against the cool, pale skin there.
Willow shook her head.
“Because I have you, and you’re more special to me than anything in this world. And any other world.” Tara bent her head and captured her lover’s lips with her own, tasting a kaleidoscope of feelings rush into her head, her heart and, most importantly of all, her soul.
“I don’t want you getting hurt again,” Cordelia gulped back the tears as she recalled how it had broken her to see Faith so much in pain. Reaching up, she tentatively touched the sticking plaster on Faith’s neck, wincing as she did so. “Your poor neck,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“It’ll heal. Slayer strength.” Faith shrugged it off. “But it’s nice to know you care, Cor.”
“I do.” The words were out before the girl had a chance to pull them back. She appeared almost shocked by her confession and looked down at her lap, pulling her hand away from Faith’s neck sharply.
A rough hand reached for her own, holding it tight, smoothing a brown thumb across the back of her hand, warm flesh pressing on warm flesh. Faith’s lips were at her ear, her breath tickling her neck. Cordelia closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “Me too.” Faith said gently, “What we gonna do about that then?”
“Don’t go.” Cordelia said, her eyes still closed. “Don’t leave here. Wherever you were going, forget about it. Stay here. Let us take care of you.” Her short, staccato sentences hinted at the emotion that was sending chills up and down her spine. “I’ve seen evil Faith. You’re not evil. Don’t run anymore. Okay?” Opening her eyes, she saw Faith’s incredulous gaze in front of her and attempted a smile, more for herself than for the other girl. “Wow,” she breathed, “and this is a lot more scary than it is in the movies.”
Faith matched her smile and squeezed her hand. “The end of the road always is. Where you end up, that’s the scariest place in the world. But you know,” she leaned into the other girl and brushed her lips against Cordelia’s softly, “I kinda think it’s where I wanna be.”
THE END
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