POV Buffy
Sometimes when I dream it feels prophetic, visions seen through a sleepy haze which hold a solid form, faces, places, all seeping through to my conscious to let me know that I should pay attention. That the details I am being shown are details that I need to take note of. Things which I need to remember. It is like that because I am the slayer. Half bites offered to me from the PTB as some kind of aid in saving the world. Usually the aids are not so good, maybe a fleeting glimpse of a hell bound beast, the harrowing cry of a power hungry master vamp, but even so I know to take note. That when I feel that way about a dream, then it has to mean something important.
The way that I feel right now.
Or ‘maybe’ the way that I feel right now. I’m not sure, I’m confused. Trying to catch the curveball. Never in all my years as a slayer has a dream which felt this way been so comforting or so peaceful. So completely different to what I am used to. And yet it felt so real. I could taste the air as I breathed it in, I could feel the sun as it shone down upon me, and I could feel with absolute certainty the way that her fingers stroked their way across my skin. Not hidden from the bad times within the sanctuary of my bedroom, but outside in a world where bad times didn’t exist. Cradled together and watching a sunset which spoke of so much more than the beasties which the sunset always brings. Everything which me and Faith can never have. And yet it felt so real.
My breath holds tight in my throat as I watch her sleeping next to me, my heart breaking with the knowledge of every easy time we won’t ever experience, all of the things which we are bound by destiny to miss. I would love so much to give her peace, to hold her in the comfort of my arms and not have to worry about what the future holds for us. To watch her sleeping like this and not have to wake her to face the demons which I believe in more than any dream.
It almost feels as if I am tempting fate by even thinking this way, by letting my thoughts wander to all of the things which I desire the most. Peace and comfort and Faith. But I didn’t invite the dream, it was just there, waiting for me. Whispering words into my ears about happiness and fulfilment, assuring me with moving images that all of this could be ours. Would be ours. But it can’t be ours.
I don’t have a clue what the PTB are playing at, if there’s a message hidden somewhere in the beauty of all that they showed to me, but I do know that I’m not falling for it. I’ve seen way too much to buy into the thought of a happy ending, I know way too much to ever believe in the dream. And if they were trying to buoy my spirit for the fight by flashing me the future that I can never have, then they have failed miserably.
It’s times like these when I hate my calling, when I want to flip a finger up to the whole freaking legacy and tell it to take a hike. Faith’s words of just a job mean so little in the harsh light of day, when the simple thought of taking a vacation is enough to send my mood crashing down into despondency. You get vacation time with a job, you don’t get a vacation from life. So tell me, slaying… is it really not my life?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I can’t complain when already I have so much more than what I believed I would ever have, but I will not be tricked into believing that there is more. Happiness is a day to day thing around here, balancing precariously on a scale where just one slip the other way means that everything has gone bad again. It is not something that can be gained from resting on a beach with my partner in my arms watching the sight of a beautiful sunset. No. It shouldn’t even register as a dream, it means less to me than a wayward fantasy. An illusion.
An illusion that felt so real.
I vow somewhere in my mind to take it to Giles, to ask him if a slayer ever had dreams which showed a promise of a better time, and more importantly, did those better times ever arrive? I expect that he won’t know the answer though, that he’ll cluck a little and wipe his glasses, switch his tone to paternal as he says, Well Buffy, nothing that the slayer dreams tell us is ever that conclusive. And then he’ll get that sad little look in his eyes which tells me he is wishing that he could offer me something different, that he could deliver all of the futures that he knows I’ll never enjoy. Maybe I won’t ask him. Maybe I’ll forget the taste of the sea breeze against my tongue, the warmth of a perfect sunset against my skin. I don’t know if I can forget though the feeling of euphoria that existed in the dream when I realised that I was done. That I was finished. That I could rest. Peace and comfort and Faith.
I watch her eyelids flicker now and wonder what she is seeing in her dreams. Whether the PTB have decided to fuck about with her reality in the same way that they were doing to me. Then again, Faith would see it different of course. She would wake up with an abundance of the smiles and dimples, would probably smother me in her arms and tell me all about the little mind trip she had taken with me to a place which was all peaceful and idyllic. Or she’d be bitching about the lack of fighting action. Either way, she would not be letting a simple dream fill her mind with thoughts all doom and gloomful. Always optimistic. Everything will always be okay.
The tiny tap against the bedroom door tears my eyes away from my prize, my finger going up to my lips as Dawn pokes her head slowly round the opening door.
“Sorry Buffy, I just wondered if you were awake yet.”
I smile to let her know that it’s okay, that I was already awake. My mouth opening to produce a whisper, quiet so as not to disturb Faith. “Just give me a minute Dawnie, I’ll be right there.”
She shuts the door again and I take it as my cue to rise, gathering some easy clothes from the drawer and making myself respectable for the world. My hair secured firmly in a pony tail, the same old Buffy smile plastered masterfully upon my face. I can’t help pausing before I turn to leave though, one final moment in the sanctuary that me and Faith had created, a final memory of the dream prickling tears at the back of my eyes. I would give anything to know peace with Faith. I would give anything to live the dream with her.
When I open the door, Dawn is there and waiting, kicking her heels against the floor in a blatant show of teenage impatience.
“Is everything okay?”
“Huh, yeah.” She stops kicking long enough to answer me, “Giles sent me up to get you guys, he wants to go over plans, what you want to do, blah blah blah…”
“You woke me up for ‘blah blah blah’?”
“No, there were words, but I forget them.” She shrugs her shoulders, “Plus you said you were already awake.”
“I was, kind of.” I turn to lead the way down the stairs, confident that she will follow. “What happened with Kennedy, did Giles spar with her?”
“No, Angel did. I think they’re still down there, maybe you can go join them, beat her up a little bit…”
“Dawn!”
It’s not just her words that have me turning on the stairs, but the bitterness that sits in her tone. The will to inflict pain. Her eyes when I catch them are full of defiance, as if she is daring me to argue with her, to tell her that she is wrong. And I do not have a clue what is going on.
“Why would you want me to beat up Kennedy?”
Her nose screws up a little, obvious distaste gracing her face. “Why wouldn’t I want you to?”
And that doesn’t help.
“Am I missing something here?” Because it sure feels like I am. Maybe a couple of days ago my cautious nature would have called for a little of the physical violence, but now I’m rooted firmly on the side of protection. “Has Kennedy upset you?”
Her face is still a raging ball of up most contempt. Her arms folding tight across her chest, her head shaking fast on those young shoulders of hers. “Everything was just starting to settle down! Everyone was just starting to get happy!”
She shouts her words out with enough force to make me stumble down another step, her arms leaving her chest to remonstrate with her hands. “And then she comes along and now everything is gonna be crap again!”
Wow. And huh?
“Things aren’t crap Dawn.” She rolls her eyes in disagreement. “Hey, they’re not. Sure we’ve got to deal with the council, but it’s nothing that we can’t handle. This is just a blip okay, a little hiccup on the road to happiness. You can’t blame Kennedy for that.”
“I saw the way she was looking at Willow.”
Oh.
“Well she was probably just being friendly.”
She rolls her eyes at me again, and I have to remember that she’s not four anymore.
“That was not friendly, she looked like she wanted to eat her, she probably does want to eat her.” Yep, definitely not four anymore. “She’s trouble Buffy, and I don’t like her.”
Her eyes are still daring me to disagree, and at the moment I just don’t have the energy to do it. Instead I try and diffuse her rage with a smile, a sisterly touch to the shoulder, words which beg to bring comfort. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry. Faith is going to speak to Kennedy about Wills and Tara, explain how off limits it is. I’m sure that once she knows the deal we won’t be getting anymore X-rated staring contests…”
“There’d better not be, because I swear, if she even thinks that she’s gonna mess with them two, then I’ll be the one beating her up. I mean it Buffy, she better watch herself.”
I turn my touch to placating, raising my fingers to run through her hair, tucking it back behind an ear. “If she messes with them, then we’ll both beat her up,” it makes her smile just a little. “but until then lets try and give her a go, okay?”
And that stops the smiling. “I don’t want to, I want her to go. Why can’t anything ever just be good, why does something always have to mess it up?”
“You think I have an answer to that?”
“It’s not fair.”
I want to say ‘welcome to the world’, but I won’t. I may not believe in the happy ending, but I refuse to ruin the vision for her. Not yet. “I know it’s not fair Dawnie, god knows we all need a little breather from the hard times, but this is just the way things are right now. I’m sure once we’ve gotten this all sorted out things will settle down, we can all get on with being happy…”
“Whatever.”
Did she just ‘whatever’ me?
“You what?”
“You don’t believe that anymore than I do, things never settle down around here. There’s always something going wrong. Maybe I should take bets on it and get rich, take odds on whose gonna die next.”
“Dawn…”
“What? You think it won’t happen?”
I have no idea where all of this is coming from, but I know that it hurts to hear it. Death is something that I worry about, I do not want Dawn to bear the worry too. “I know it won’t happen. Not this time Dawn, it’s not like that. No one is going to be dying.”
If I could make the words more valid by shouting them, then I would. But I know that I have no control over death, who it comes for and when. So I let my voice go soft instead, cajoling her into believing me.
“Excuse me if I don’t believe you,” I guess the cajoling didn’t work then. “but that may have something to do with the fact that everybody just keeps on dying. Mom, you, Faith, nearly Tara… even Spike…”
“Spike was already dead AND he was kinda evil.”
“Not to me he wasn’t.”
“He was helping Warren!” My head is shaking in disbelief. I know that my relationship with Spike doesn’t define everyone’s relationship with Spike, and I know that they were… close, when I was… dead, but still. “He was evil Dawn.”
“So what? He’s still dead, gone. Whatever.” She goes to walk around me on the stairs, her tone still a little bitter, her eyes closing off from me.
“Dawn, wait.”
“What for? So you can pretend that everything’s going to be okay some more?”
“I’m not pretending.”
I’m not. I try and hang onto that thought as she slides a disdainful look over me. Pulling herself up to her full height, flicking her hair in a way that I swear Cordy has taught to her. Dismissing me. “Maybe I’d believe you if you could say it like you meant it.”
My mouth gapes as she turns from me again. Wanting so much to dispute the fact more, but not knowing the right words to say, the way to bring truth to things which maybe I don’t believe in. Things do have a real unhealthy way of going bad around here. I can’t dispute that fact. I can’t promise her a happy ending.
I stand my ground resigned to letting her walk away disenchanted, sighing deep as Willow comes into view. I catch the confused look that she offers Dawn as she storms on past her, a look that continues until it settles upon me.
“What’s up with Dawnie?”
“Life.”
“Huh?”
I think about how to unravel her confusion, how to state the way that my sister is feeling. “I think she’s lost her faith in happy endings Wills, she’s started seeing life exactly the way it is.”
“Well that sounds pretty gloomy.”
Tell me about it. I can only give her a shrug of my shoulders, another shake of the head. “She’s waiting for the next bad thing to happen, the next person she cares about to die. She’s come to expect it, I guess that does feel kinda gloomy.”
“What did you say to her?”
And another shrug of the shoulders. “What can I say? I can’t promise her bad things won’t happen, I can’t promise that no one is going to die…”
“And you used to be a cheerleader?” Her serious face holds for just a second until her mouth turns up into a smile. “Did your team lose a lot?”
“Very funny Wills, but I don’t think the pom poms and splits would’ve worked on Dawnie. She’s pretty upset, I don’t think anything except an end to all of the bad times is gonna convert her back to happy.”
“Do you want me to speak to her?”
“You can try. Although a spell to end all of the crap might work better.”
“If only.” She gives me a wistful look as I make it to the bottom of the stairs, immediately linking her arm through mine, launching into a quick spate of chatter. “What about you, are you okay? Although I guess with the council stuff it’s not really okay. Kinda crazy maybe, but not okay. And what about Kennedy huh? What’s your thoughts on Kennedy?”
I think that here’s a girl that needs to breathe. “Slow down Wills, my ears can only compute a certain amount of words per second…”
“Right. Slow. So?”
“Huh?”
“Kennedy?”
“Right.”
Kennedy. What to say? “She’s okay, I think. Obviously scared of the council, a little wild around the edges, but she seems nice enough.”
“Nice?” Her arm breaks away from mine, and she places her hands upon her hips. “Did you see the way she was looking at me Buffy!?” And I’m pretty sure that everybody saw. “Because that was not about nice, that was about… naughty! A whole honking heap of naughty.”
My eyes are getting dizzy as she starts to pace in front of me. All huffing and puffing. All sorts of tense. “It’s crazy! She made me feel so…”
“Horny?”
The voice from behind makes me turn in a spin. Smiling at Faith’s cocky grin, flushing as she shoots me a wink.
“No! Not horny Faith. I was going to say violated. It was… indecent.”
I close my eyes on Willow’s disgruntled look, and concentrate only on the feel of Faith’s lips on my neck. Just a slight whisper as she comes to stand next to me. A shiver sliding deliciously across the full length of my body, warm tingles tickling each of my senses. Her voice when it comes is still heavy with sleep, wrapping around my ears, inducing me to feel good.
“Lighten up Red, she was only checking out the goodies. Take it as a compliment, ride with it.”
“Ride with it?” Disbelief has partnered disgruntled now. Both of them fighting for dominance on her face. “I don’t want to ride with anything. You have to speak to her, make her stop.”
I’m trying to ignore the feeling of Faith’s fingers as they slide to their place at the small of my back, tiny teasing circles of touches, totally distracting.
“Buffy?”
“What? Uh… sure! Faith’s gonna talk to her, aren’t you baby?”
I reach my hand behind me to take hers, bringing it down to a safer place, my mind trying to focus on Will’s worries.
“Sure am B. Although only if you’re certain Red? Ken’s a nice slice of honey pie, be a shame not to sample a taste.”
I watch as Willow begins to go into shock right in front of me, knowing that if I turned my head to catch Faith’s eyes they would be winking and leering, teasing to the max. I squeeze her hand tighter to persuade her to lay off. For now. “Calm down Will, Faith didn’t mean it. Of course she’ll talk to her, and of course she’ll tell her to back off. Quit worrying.”
“Right, quit worrying.” She says it like she doesn’t mean it. “I can do that. Just talk to her Faith, tell her. If Tara saw her looking at me like that then…”
“Like what sweetie?”
“Tara!”
Oh god. We all turn our attention the newcomer’s way, no doubt all of us feeling as if we had just been caught with our hands in the cookie jar. Wondering what she heard. What she’s thinking. Willow is the first to recover, rushing over to Tara’s side, babbling complete nonsense to try and cover the previous conversation.
“We were just saying about the council stuff baby, all kinds of crazy, and Buff’s gonna talk to Ken about the spell stuff some more, maybe get some clues for us to conjure with…”
“Willow, breathe.” The look that Tara is giving her is all about the smiles. A Tara special. Lighting up her features, lighting up the room. “I know what you were talking about, and you don’t have to worry.”
“I don’t?”
“No way. Kennedy can look all she wants to sweetie, but it doesn’t mean she gets to touch.” Her hand is sliding up to cup Will’s face, her thumb rubbing gently across her cheek. “Only I get to touch.”
I wonder if I should look away as they start to kiss, whether it is rude to stare. Whether it is wrong to feel stirrings of the horny kind as they begin to let the passion boil over.
“Fuck me B, that’s hot.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You wanna pop back upstairs?”
And uh-huh again. It’s almost as if they have forgotten that we are in the room. And staring. The kiss going from deep and meaningful, to soft and nibbling. Two matching sighs of contentment breaking from their lips.
“Hey, slow down there girls, anymore of that and you’ll be sparking an orgy.” Faith moves from my side to head over to the witches, reaching out her hand to test the heat of their skin, blowing the burn from her fingers when she finds them to be scorching. “And I wouldn’t let Ken catch you, she’ll be giving you both the ‘fuck me’ eyes if she catches a glimpse of that little show.”
I expect them to look embarrassed as they break slowly apart, but they only look energised. Secret smiles being exchanged, little touches of fingers that keep them connected even as they turn to face me.
“She does have nice eyes.”
Does she? I don’t ask, I just shake my head at Tara’s devilish expression, wonder when all of my friends turned into such hussies.
“She has a pretty wicked ass too, maybe the pair of ya should give her a little workout, ease her stress levels,” I watch Faith’s eyebrows as they dance seductively in time with her words, and I know. My friends have all become hussies since Faith returned here. Her sexuality oozing out to encompass us all in the feel good factor, her own wicked hot vibe working wonders on all that we used to repress. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it, could be fun.”
“Faith…”
“It’s okay baby, Faith is just playing.” Tara offers Willow another of those smiles to ease her still worried expression. “No one gets to join in our fun times, not even if their ass is tight enough to crack walnuts.”
I catch Faith’s wink from across the room, smile myself as she throws her arms around each of the witch’s shoulders. “I guess I will have to talk to her then, let her know which lines not to cross.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“It is? You reconsidering already Tara?”
“No, but I can talk to her myself.” It’s an unexpected statement, and one which floods Will’s eyes with the worry some more.
“Maybe you should leave it to Faith, you know… being that Kennedy’s a slayer, and all tough with the grrrr...”
“No Willow, Faith has enough to worry about without having to play bodyguard to my girlfriend,” She mimics some kind of uh… god, what is that? A girly punch move? “And I can be all grrrr if I need to be. You’re my girl, and I’m more than capable of telling Kennedy that fact myself.”
Go Tara! Although she may have a problem if it comes to the actual exchange of punches. I’ve seen Andrew throw better ones than that.
I settle myself down onto the arm of the sofa and just watch as they continue the chat about being butch and brave and warning off a big bad slayer. Faith is feeding them ammunition at every opportunity, cracking funnies and offering sound bites. Her greatest suggestion being that the witches take away Kennedy’s attraction with a little bit of conjuring. It’s all jovial, all enjoyable, and it all proves that I needn’t have been so worried about Tara’s reaction to the look. She has a cool head, a calm head, a head much better suited to the squashing of the jealousy than mine. I envy her. I’d have definitely been wallowing in the grrr already if that look had touched upon Faith.
“You spazzing out again B?”
It’s a surprise when my gaze comes back into focus on a room that holds only me and Faith. The witches gone. And yes, I guess I was spazzing.
“Sorry, thinking again. Where’d…”
“Upstairs, they had some urgent ‘texty goodness’ to get down with.” She walks closer to me, the dimples in her cheeks out in full force. “Apparently Giles wants to get some order to our thoughts, discuss what our plans are gonna be…”
“We have plans?”
“I’m empty. I wanna say wipe ‘em all out, but my redemption won’t allow it.” She fakes a sigh, but the dimples are still there.
“You want me to say it?”
“Could work.” I edge along the sofa to make room for her ass. “It’s the only idea I have at the mo. Maybe the others came up with something while we were sleeping.”
“Maybe.”
My thoughts flash instantly back to the dream I had when sleeping. My vision. The peace that I had found there. Weariness settling over me again with the realisation that I am so far away from ever achieving that.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile to assure her, take the offered place inside her arms. “It’d just be nice to not have to make plans for a while. Dawn’s pissed, obsessing over the latest bad…”
“But it’s all gonna be cool, we lay down the law to the council, then I’m figuring it’s chill out time. I’ll talk to her, make her see the sunny side.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“I think that Dawn’s a tough nut to crack. I just wish that I could give her the better times. She’s been through enough already, suffered enough…”
I don’t realise how my head has fallen despondent until I feel her fingers under my chin, raising it back up again, urging me to turn and look at her. Her dimples still on show, softness in her eyes. “Why is it that we have to keep carrying each other out of the dumps B?”
I don’t have an answer, just a shrug of the shoulders.
“Serious, if it’s not me dwelling in the depths, then it’s you.”
Again I’m tempted to put it down to life, to let the gloomy thoughts take control, but I know that that won’t wash with Faith. The girl who always puts a cheerful spin on everything for me.
“I guess things have just been pretty crappy lately.”
“It’s not all been bad.” Her eyes are still holding the softness for me, drawing me in. The arm around my shoulder tightening as she presses a gentle kiss to my lips, pulling away and still keeping the dimples.
“No Faith, not all bad.”
I could lose myself in those eyes. I want to. Because somehow everything always seems better, doable, when she looks at me this way. Comforting me with love. It’s almost enough to have me speaking of my dream, testing the water with the vision I had seen, sharing with her my desire to just be at peace.
The moment is stolen by the arrival of Giles, his frazzled expression not changing as he begins to speak, the glasses in his hand punctuating his words. “Girls, your up. I take it that you slept well?”
We both nod, settle back to hear what he has to say.
“I’ve spoken to my contacts in England, and it seems that the council are due to arrive tomorrow morning. I suggest that whatever it is you are both wanting to do, you share with us sooner rather than later.” And now we both offer blank expressions. “You do have a plan?”
“Actually Giles, we were kinda hoping that you might’ve come up with a plan while we were sleeping.” I rise from the sofa arm and make my way over to him. “Because the closest that we have is wiping them all out, and I’m not sure that that’s such a viable option. Which is a shame.”
He narrows his eyes on my last comment, but I know that behind me Faith will be smiling.
“No Buffy, ‘wiping out’ humans is still out of bounds, no matter what they have done.”
“Like I said, it’s a shame.”
“Sure is B, seems to me like they’re gonna get away with what they’ve done. It’s not right.” I feel as she comes to stand next to me, leaning up against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze directing solely at Giles.
“I really don’t know what to suggest. There is no way to persecute them for their actions, other than to prevent it from happening again…”
“But that’s bullshit! How the fuck will we know if they do it again? Man, they could already be doing it, working out replacements for Ken.”
It’s something that I have already wondered at. If there’s young girls out there now being plucked from their homes to be herded like cattle by the council. Tortured, trained and killed.
“The witches are confident that they can work the same spells as the council, and I have to agree. Willow’s power surpasses anything I have seen before, and working with Tara she is much better able to control that power.”
“Which means?” I don’t mean to be slow, but he does need to spell it out.
“It means that at the very least we can locate these ‘potentials’, just as readily as the council can. Perhaps afford them some level of protection.”
Now Faith pushes herself off from the wall she had leant against, shaking her head, her hands wiping the strain from her face. “And how the fuck do you suggest we protect them Giles? Last count I had three slayers, and that’s assuming that Kennedy’s gonna want to stick with us once we’ve dealt with this shit, how do you suppose that three of us can locate and look after an infinite number of potentials?”
It has Giles taking his glasses into hand again, sighing onto the lenses and then rubbing with all his might. “I don’t know.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m sorry Faith, but yes. Locating the potentials is as far as we have gotten, I was rather hoping that you and Buffy may have some ideas to move us along.” Cue more blank looks from me. “Time is of the essence, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of that.”
I want to sigh myself, but apparently I don’t have the time. Instead I turn my look to Faith, watching as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth in something resembling a pensive pose. Her hands running through her hair now as she searches for a solution that eludes the rest of us.
“Can’t the witches do that cloaking shit? You know, hide them from the council or something?”
“Pardon me?”
“Hide their essence, or whatever the mumbo jumbo speak is.”
He takes his time considering, but I know what he thinks. I know his looks. Right now his look is bordering on astonished. “I think you may have hit upon something Faith. We’ve been so busy considering how to locate the potentials, that the idea of hiding them hadn’t even crossed our minds.” Now his look is blatant approval. “Good job, very good job.”
He turns and walks from the room muttering unheard words to himself, no more words offered to us, just fixing his thoughts on what he can do next. Always thinking, always busy. I wonder if sometimes he just wishes for peace too, if that’s what drove him from Sunnydale the time when he had left us.
“You think it’ll work B?”
“Not a clue, I’m about as knowledgeable with the magics as I am with the cooking. Which when you think about it, they both involve ingredients and mixing, so it’s not so surprising.”
“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” She smirks as I come in closer, edging her back against the wall, my hands resting either side of head, pinning her in.
“It was great thinking though Faith. And here was me assuming that you were just a pretty face.”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?”
Her eyebrows are dancing for me now, her hands coming up to close around my back, the teasing circles beginning again across my spine.
“Pretty damn fantastic I’d say .”
“I like what you say.”
I lean the last inch forward to bring my lips to hers, my tongue tasting the flavour of minty fresh breath, my body feeling the force of being pulled hard against her. Hands grabbing tight on my ass, fingers sliding underneath the rim of my pants to spark my skin into instant arousal.
“Huh hum!” And oh look, Giles came back. “Sorry to interrupt the planning, but if you wouldn’t mind calling the witches down please, I think that we have some rather important things to be getting on with.”
He is trying to look displeased, but it just isn’t working. His eyes already alight with the plans which are forming in his own mind. Direction given courtesy of Faith.
“Sure thing G, though I have to tell ya that my good ideas flow much better when I’m in the process of getting some, you really shouldn’t interrupt.”
“If that were the case Faith, you would be a genius when it comes to ideas.”
And even in my semi-morose state I have to laugh a little at the pose she strikes now, not sure whether to be injured by his words, or preening herself with the insinuation that she is always often getting some. In the end she settles on wounded with a big slice of smiling. “If I wasn’t such a good person Giles, I’d retract my idea and leave ya with nothing. As it is I’m gonna go rustle up the witches instead. I bet they give me the appreciation I deserve.”
“I’m sure that they will.”
My smile stays firm even as she blows out an extended sigh and turns to go to the stairs, the whole time talking about under valued, great ideas, and the interruption to her getting some.
“She really is something special, isn’t she Buffy?”
With her slayer senses, she can probably still hear exactly what he just said, and by the look in his eye I know that he knows that. He is just paying her the dues that she deserves in a way that she’ll accept without answering back with a joke or a cocky turn of phrase.
“Yes Giles, the specialist.”
He nods and smiles out his approval to me, his arm going behind my back as he turns and leads me into the kitchen, the table where the happy researchers sit.
“Hey Buffster, you’ve come to join us!” Xander puts down his book as I enter the room, taking any excuse to not be reading. “You sleep well, all rested and raring?”
“Ask her if they had good sex, we all know that that’s much more likely than them sleeping.”
“Thanks Anya, it was fantastic.” I pass my eyes over her to settle back on Xander. “And the sleep was good too. How about you guys, learn anything worth knowing?”
“The gestation period of a Yuungerma demon is twenty six weeks long, and their level of production is a minimum of ten offspring per litter…”
“Thanks Xan, worth getting up for.”
He gives me the thumbs up and returns to the book, sieving through all of the useless stuff in the hope of just one nugget of solidly good information jumping out to bite him on the ass. We both know that it’s not likely here though. That the only ones who can really do anything are the witches. It’s not demons we’re fighting, not this time.
“Where’s Dawn?”
Anya answers, putting aside her ‘Good Bride’ guide to point towards the door. “They went out shopping. Dawn was being effusive with the insufferable, so they’ve gone for retail therapy. It seems as if I’m not the only one who gets comfort from the exchange of goods for money.”
“Oh right… and no one thought to tell me they were going out?”
“Dawn said you wouldn’t mind. We assumed that you were still having sex, our bad.”
I let that one slip, not having the energy or the inclination to care about Anya’s over obsessiveness about my sex life. Caring only that Dawn had felt the need to get away from the house, from me. From Kennedy.
“Where’s Kennedy, still sparring?”
I train my ears to hear below, but I hear nothing.
“Yeah Buff, her and Angel have been down there for hours. Maybe she’s got a vamp fetish too.”
I shoot Xander the look that he deserves for that little comment, and turn to go to the basement. I know I’m meant to wait for the planning committee, but I just don’t wanna sit and stare at the books. I can always say that I was collecting Kennedy for the conference, that I felt it was important that we included her every step of the way. I smile at my cover story as I walk the steps down, coming to stop as my gaze falls upon them, what they are doing.
I go to speak, to say something, but Angel raises his hand to stop me. Quieting me with his eyes, insisting that I wait until Kennedy has finished. And so I stay quiet, observant. My breathing seeming to hear hers and falling into rhythm alongside it. Meditative breaths. Her body supported upside down on her hands, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in long steady motions. I think it’s the most calm that I have ever seen the basement. Her legs pointing straight up to the ceiling, nothing on her face except composed concentration.
And she is a hottie. I admit it. No longer feeling threatened by it, I can step back and appreciate. Noting without thinking the steady flow of her muscles under skin, the way that they strain in the position she is holding. Definitely hot. Both her and the position.
I don’t know what to say when she suddenly flips herself back to standing and catches me staring. Sure that she saw some obvious appreciation in my eyes.
“Buffy, you been there long?”
“Nope, just came down to grab you and Angel, there’s some things that we need to go over… maybe a plan, maybe an idea for a plan.” My words are coming out quick, and I pause to take a breath, to calm myself. “Are you finished down here?”
She turns and looks at Angel, nods a definite yes. “I’m starving hungry, is it okay to eat something?”
“Help yourself to whatever we have, I’ll be up in a sec, I just need Angel for minute.”
I watch as she walks the stairs, moving over to stand with Angel, to gather his thoughts on our newest sister slayer.
“So what do you think?”
“No time for small talk?”
I smile my apology, soften my features. “Sorry, I’m just all caught up in the crap of the moment. How are you?”
And now he smiles. “Better than I thought I’d be. I guessed that being back in Sunnydale would be hard, that seeing you so much would be hard.”
“And it’s not hard?”
Of course I know that it isn’t.
“No, it’s good. It’s great to see you happy, it’s great to see Faith happy. It’s even nice to be away from the city for a while. I like what we have there, but it’s nice to take a break.”
“Nice break, complete with demons and asses.”
He concedes the point with an agreeing nod of his head, rebukes it with his words. “A change is as good as a holiday Buffy, you must have heard that before.”
“I suppose. Not really sure that I remember holidays though.”
Again I flashback to my dream, to the peace and the tranquillity, to everything that was so many miles from what I experience everyday of existence.
“What was that you had Kennedy doing? The upside down thing?”
Because that had looked both peaceful and tranquil.
“Just meditation. She’s full of rage and anger, there’s no point in trying to spar with her like that, she’ll only hurt herself or someone else.”
“Why upside down?”
“She refuses to sit still long enough to meditate the usual way. At least that way she is working her muscles at the same time she is exercising her mind.”
I can imagine that she wouldn’t sit still for long. She has that edge about her. Jumpy from what she has been through, from having to keep watch over her shoulder. “What do you think of her, aside from the fighting side?”
“It’s hard to see below her bitterness Buffy. I’d be concerned about that, worried about her self control…”
“Like Faith?”
I don’t have to spell things out to Angel, he knows what I mean. That I mean the Faith that raised merry hell the first time around, not the Faith who lives here now.
“Similar maybe. Different drives though. Faith was driven purely by her feelings, a need to feel accepted and wanted, to make people notice her existence…”
“And Kennedy?”
“She’s just pissed as hell at the world. She wants revenge, justice. The power is still new to her, the responsibility that comes with it.”
“What do you suggest?” It feels so nice being able to defer to someone who has as much knowledge as Angel, someone that I trust to guide me along in the right direction.
“First thoughts would be to keep her away from the council when they arrive. She’ll shoot first and ask questions later,” Faith’s arm could vouch for that. “Once you’ve resolved the issues with them, then I don’t know. You could offer her a home here, but I doubt that she’d take it. She’s young. She’s full of passion.”
“So we just cut her lose, send her out with a cross bow and tell her to be good?”
“I could take her to LA.” The way that he speaks it tells me that he has been considering this one in his head. No sudden burst as if he has just thought of it, but measured tones, offering me a possible solution. “With Faith here now, we could use the extra hands, especially slayer hands. And I could work with her, try and get that spirit a little bit more controlled.”
He looks at me and awaits my opinion, giving me the time to consider what he has said. “In theory I like it, but that doesn’t mean that Kennedy will. We’ll try and keep her calm whilst we deal with the council, and then after that we’ll discuss her future. We’ll offer her a home here, and if she refuses that, then we’ll offer LA.” It makes sense to me as I say it, and I’m glad that I stopped to have this little chat. Putting another of my worries down to rest. “One thing though Angel… it has to be her choice. Nothing we do can make it seem like we’re forcing her… she’s had enough of that. Whatever she decides she wants to do, we have to support her decision.”
“That’s fine by me Buffy.”
We both look up as the door opens above us, as Faith comes into view on the stairs.
“This looks cosy.” She waves her hand between the two of us as she makes her way down. “Not interrupting am I?”
And all I can do is roll my eyes at her. “Yes Faith, god only knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come in just then.”
“Well girl, don’t let me stop ya.” Her face splits into a mega watt grin as she throws an arm around my shoulder. “Although Giles is getting all antsy with the wanting to plan. He’ll probably blow a gasket if ya take too long.”
“It’s okay Faith, I think that we’re done here.” I agree with Angel’s words, leaning my body back into Faith to feel her warmth, a stolen second before we ascend to the serious times above. Smiling as her arm leaves my shoulder to link her fingers between mine, pulling me over to the stairs.
I don’t know if the plan to cloak the potentials with magic will work, I don’t know if we’ll be able to tame and tether Kennedy’s justifiable rage and anger, but I do know that with the people who stand by my side, we have a damn good chance of achieving whatever we need to. It may not be the peace and comfort and Faith that I so desire, but it’s something, and something is so much better than nothing.
I drop her hand as we walk to the table that houses the team of willing participants, shaking off the fuzzy feelings to bring about the business persona. The one that says I’m ready to take action, that all I need is the direction to point it in. I’m just about to launch into a spirit lifting speech, words to inspire the result that we require, when a knock at the front door halts the words on my lips. An annoying thought flitting fast through my brain.
“Looks like Dawn forgot her key, I’ll get it.”
And if I had given much thought to that theory I would’ve dismissed it before I had reached the door, before I had pulled it open with a flourish to scold my sister for being so forgetful. I know she never forgets her key, I know that she would simply walk around the back if she had, and I know more than anything that shopping with her takes a hell of a lot longer than the time that she had been gone. I didn’t give much thought to the theory though, so determined was I to get back to my spirit soaring speech and planning. Nope. I opened that door with a flourish, and then I stood there with my mouth hanging open in shock. Not able to form words, not able to make sense of the vision I was seeing so much sooner than I was expecting it.
“Good afternoon Miss Summers, I take it that you have been expecting us.”
Quentin Travers. The council.
Oh crap.
Chapter 41
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
“Miss Summers?”
Oh crap.
It’s the only thought that I can process. How totally and utterly crap this precise moment seems to be. I imagine that I look like something close resembling a rabbit caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler truck, but in reality I am sure that I look much worse. I feel much worse. All of my rage and anger towards this man seems to have been replaced by the complete shock of seeing him standing at my door so very much sooner than expected. Quentin Travers. And oh crap again.
I want to shout and holler, I want to throw punches that will land this man back in England before he can utter another word to me. Before he demands entrance to my home to unleash a train of events that I have no chance of even trying to predict. But I can’t. All that I can seem to do is to stand here feeling confused and dumbfounded. I try for words, I try for anything to make my mind work again, to stop me from appearing as blonde as my bottle of peroxide would suggest.
“You’re early.”
He looks annoyed at my obvious statement, his little weasel like eyebrows arching together in the middle of his face.
“Quite obviously Miss Summers.” The thumbs of both his hands coming up to tuck inside of his lapels. “It was decided that we arrive here as soon as possible. We were becoming concerned at your lack of progress…”
“Excuse me?”
“The rogue slayer has been on the run for an unacceptable amount of time now, all intelligence suggests to us that she has indeed made her way to this wretched little hell hole of a town, and yet she continues to evade you.” In my head I am squashing him underfoot. “We were assuming that you could enlighten us as to how this was so?” Just like a bug. A cockroach dressed in tweed.
Any shock that had momentarily rendered me passive has quite positively left the building. Seeing him here in front of me. Smelling him. It’s enough to have my stomach churning up a whole heap of sickness and distaste. It’s enough to remind me that I am a slayer, that this is the man who would happily destroy everything that we stand for, just for the chance to hold our power. To be the one in charge.
And I am the one in charge.
My eyes run over him derisively as I take the moment to compose my thoughts. Reminding myself of every crime I know this man has committed, but also reminding myself of the people who I wish to protect inside of the house. It would be no good to start a full out war now, when we have barely begun to prepare our battle plan. No. It would be much better to remain calm, to smile some dizzy compliance and fool him into believing that he is the man with all of the power.
“Enlighten you Quentin?” I let my shoulders slip to lessen my already non towering stature, turning my eyes to the floor in a sign of meekness. “We were hoping that the cavalry coming meant that you might be able to offer us a few pointers.”
Look at me all weak and pathetic.
The leader of the corrupt council has shoes shiny enough to let me see my reflection in them, and I study it now. Not trusting my acting abilities to hold if I have to look into his eyes. Just concentrating on holding the pose, being so much less than who I truly am.
“It’s apparent that you’re in need of some good solid leadership, it’s truly unfathomable that you haven’t been able to make any headway into this little search and find problem of ours.” My reflection moves in front of me and I realise that he has taken a step forwards, that he is assuming that entry will be afforded to him. “Now perhaps we can go inside and discuss this further, I don’t think that the porch is the correct place to continue this, do you?”
“Uh…” Think fast Buffy. “…you can’t come in.”
I amaze myself.
It seems I’ve also amazed him with my incredibly fast thinking and witty retorts. One of his thumbs leaves his lapel and travels up to his chin, his expression turning to one that you would give to a disobedient child. “Miss Summers, I’d rather hoped that your behaviour may have changed some, that you had learnt the value of giving respect to those whom deserve it.”
“I know, it’s really sad. But what can you do? I’m resigned to living a disrespectful life…”
“Quiet!”
I feel my eyes steel as he dares to shout at me. I may be playing at being less, but inside I am still so much more. He would do well to remember that. I’m just about to offer him these thoughts when a crash from behind me brings my head snapping round to search out the cause. All of my worry rising to the surface again.
“What was that?”
Damned if I know.
I wait out the seconds until I’m sure that nothing major is happening, turning again to face Travers, trying hard to cling onto the submissive mission before me. I can’t let him in, yet I can’t pound his head against the sidewalk. Life truly isn’t fair. I want to pound his head and then let him in. Soften him up for the punishment that I’m sure both Kennedy and Faith would be ready, willing and very able to give. I shrug my shoulders to show my complete lack of knowledge, affixing a ditzy smile to my face.
“Probably the cat, she’s always smashing up the furniture. Darn pesky animals. I wanted to get a budgie, but no. Dawn HAS to have a cat. Kids, what can ya do with them?”
I can see him getting agitated again, but really, not caring. As long as he buys into my lacking intellect and ditzy persona then everything will be okay. And for all he knows we do have a cat. We had a cat once.
“Perhaps you should satisfy my curiosity by letting me in. My colleagues and I are not used to doing our business in the street. It’s positively undignified.”
“Already told ya Quentin, no can do.” I shake my head in what I hope is a good impression of Dawn’s earlier dismissive Cordy flick. Preparing to add to the lies. “I have a hair appointment. It’s important that a slayer always looks her best, you never know who you might meet in the graveyard in the middle of the night.”
“You have a hair appointment?”
“Yep! Us Cali girls are all about the hair.” It’s surprising just how easy it is to slip back into a character that I used to play so well. Also a little scary.
“Do I need to remind you just how important this business is Miss Summers? How much damage a rogue slayer is capable of inflicting?”
“Oh lighten up old man!” I restrain myself from knocking him on the shoulder with a little of my slayer strength. It’s very tempting though. Very very tempting. “What difference is a few hours going to make? Besides, for all you know the rogue girl… Kennedy?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Well this Kennedy might be really into the hair care routine. Could be useful.”
And could I talk more crap? His eyes are staring at me with a mixture of rage and confusion. I’m sure he’s remembering his last visit here, wondering at where that girl has disappeared to. Let him think I left her in the ground. Let him think whatever he wants, as long as he leaves my doorstep. I can feel the tension sliding into me from the room behind. Can hear with my ears the holding of breath, the listening to of words. I know that I need him to go, and I can feel that it would be much better off being soon.
“I’m going to ask you once more Miss Summers, may we come in?”
“What, no please?” “His face is turning ruddy with displeasure, the henchmen standing behind him looking just as thoroughly impressed with me. “I told you Quentin, I have a hair appointment. Now if you leave me your number I can give you guys a call when I’m done, but until then you have to go. Please?”
I sugar sweet smile as I offer him my sarcastic plea, knowing as well as he does that he really has no choice. I may be acting meek and mindful, but everyone on this doorstep is well aware that if pushed I could take them all to pieces. One limb at a time.
“This is preposterously outrageous.”
Does he get paid per syllable?
“I was only going for a trim, you think that’s outrageous?”
“You’re trying my patience now.”
He huffs and puffs his way through a full range of derogatory looks, each one seeming to darken more as he realises that my tiny little bulk will not be making way for him. Eventually thrusting his hand inside of his jacket and producing a business card. Lots of numbers and email addresses. An office on every continent.
“Wow, I never knew that the council was quite so extensive. Been branching out Quentin?”
“The number that you will need is the field number.” He points out which one he means, an American cell number. “Make sure that your call is sooner rather than later, it would be in your benefit to work with us on this Miss Summers. I can’t be held accountable for what will happen otherwise.”
A cockroach in tweed with a head that’s as squishable as a grape. I centre myself on the vision in my mind. Not on the not so veiled threat that he has just issued to me.
“I understand.” My jaw aches as I aim for sugar sweet and stupid again. Plastering a smile to my face as he turns to go. My fingers digging into the doorframe with enough force to slide splinters into my skin.
“Good day Miss Summers.”
I do not answer. My performance is over. He will not recognise the ‘Miss Summers’ that he next lays his eyes upon. I watch as they all trundle down the steps, returning to a car that I have only just noticed. All big and imposing, tinted windows, really big rims. It reminds me of Kennedy’s story, the part where she was just a girl, and they were sick evil men. Pretending to be knights in shining armour rescuing her from a life of Mexican peasant poverty, but instead reducing her to mean nothing more than what she was worth as a possession to them. And wiping them all out still sounds like a viable option to me.
When the car has gone from sight I close the door and walk slowly back to my friends, my eyes flying wide when met with the vision of Faith straddling Kennedy, one hand across her mouth, the other hand fighting to keep her pinned to the ground.
“Have they gone?”
“Uh-huh.”
My gaze travels slowly around the room, the mere mortals cowering in the corner, and my girlfriend sat atop another woman. Angel is standing by too, only I’m not sure if he is planning on joining in and helping, or whether he is just there to play the voyeur.
“What the heck happened in here?”
I turn to Anya as her voice rings out. A little shaky. Uncomposed. “The crazy girl went crazy.” Her finger pointing at the obvious target of Kennedy, squirming like a worm on the floor. “Faith had to restrain her, I think she was going to kill someone.”
I bet I can guess who.
“Well they’ve gone now, so I’m thinking that Faith can probably unrestrain her.” At least I hope that she can. I’m well aware of the place that her groin is pressed against Kennedy’s midriff, and although I’m doing well in my squashing of pointless jealous feelings, this is one pose that I do not need to see. “Faith?”
“Can’t do it B, Ken said she’s gonna kick my ass as soon as she gets up, I’m protecting myself.”
“She did say that Buff. I think you should leave them down there… just till Kennedy uh… calms down.”
I ignore the pool of drool that is forming on Xander’s chin, and turn instead to the witches. “Guys, can you do something?”
“What would you like us to do?”
“I don’t know Tara… a separate-y thing. A restrainy, separate-y, magicy thing. You’re the witches, do something witchy!”
“OW!”
Huh? I flit my eyes back to Faith to see her holding her hand protectively to her chest and Kennedy smiling smugly beneath her.
“Fuck me! You bit my fucking hand.”
“I told you to let me up!”
“Fucking psycho!”
“Fucking bitch!”
When they both start laughing I wonder which dimension my brain has stopped off at today. Whether I left the sane part of myself in my idyllic dream time paradise. I keep on wondering as Faith jumps up and offers the hand out to Kennedy, lifts her up to standing with all talk of apology, and sorry she had to do that. Do what?
“Again, what the heck happened?”
“We were listening B, we heard who was at the door.” She leaves Kennedy’s side now to come closer to me, swinging out a kitchen chair and straddling that instead. Giving her eyes only to me. “Runt back there wanted to go all vengeful, someone had to keep her busy.”
“I’m not a runt, and they need sorting out. Why we have to wait to have a few hours chat about it is beyond me. We could have surprised them then, taken them out when they weren’t expecting it.”
“Taken them out?” Has no one explained the rules of engagement to our newest playmate?
“That is the plan, right?”
I’m seeing the same eyes that I saw on Dawn just a little while earlier, the ones which look at me as if they are daring me to disagree. To argue with her. And I will.
“No Kennedy, that isn’t the plan.”
She darts her gaze back and forth between me and Faith, her mouth spitting out her disgust. “You’re fucking joking? I thought you said you were going to help me, that you were going to protect me…”
“Calm down Ken,” Faith turns her chair Kennedy’s way now. “We are going to help you, but unfortunately that doesn’t mean we get to go all Mistress of Pain on the council.” She shrugs her shoulders at the girl, and I get to see just how ineffective a shrug can be.
“But what about what they have done…”
“Now Kennedy…” And now is not the time for Giles to become embroiled in the discussion. “…regardless of the council’s actions…”
“Don’t you start that crap with me!”
See. I knew it. Kennedy is in his face before he can compute her movement, her anger all directing one way now. Facing down the only visible sight of the council that she has to focus upon. Poor Giles.
“Uh… um…”
“That’s it? They kill my friends and you offer me an uh, and an um?”
“You want me to sit on her again B?”
NO!
“I don’t think that that will be necessary.” I hope. “Kennedy?”
She shakes her head as she turns to me, as if clearing her vision, reining in some of her bad thoughts. It’s nice to see that she can do it, that she has some kind of control. Her face isn’t exactly brimming with friendship, but she’s not killing Giles. It’s progress.
“Faith can sit on me if she wants to, it wasn’t all bad.”
Or not.
And I really want to ignore her leering looks. To put it down to the stupidity of the moment and slide right on by. I can’t though. Maybe it’s a build up of all of the pressure from today, the soreness of my dream, the soreness of Dawn, the crap of the council, but I can not carry on with a meek and stupid act any longer.
It’s me who moves before my actions can be computed now, up in her face where I feel destined to be. “I think it’s about time you cut the crap Kennedy, cos you’re flirting fantastically with a fist to the face right now, and it’d be such a shame to smudge your mascara.”
Although a little smudge does feel deserved.
“Are you threatening me?”
“B..?”
“No Faith, it’s okay. Kennedy just needs to understand some things.” I pull my shoulders back into a commanding position, breathe the life of the slayer into my veins, understanding every single tweak of muscle as my body fizzes with the power that it has come to know so well. “I get that you’ve had it hard Kennedy, really I do.”
Her eyes roll heavenward as she tries to find sight of me down her nose. “Screw you.”
“Let me finish.” Spoken almost as a growl. Absolute authority seeping from my every pore. Her eyebrows knitting in response, a little wary, a little confused. “You’ve had it hard, but so have we all. Look around this room, there’s not one person here who can tell you a tale of a rose tinted childhood. All of us know what it feels like to suffer, to lose the things that we love…”
“But…”
“I said let me finish!” And now a definite growl. “You came here for us to help you, and I swear that we’ll do everything that we can to make that happen. But I will not, and listen good here Kennedy because I absolutely mean this, I will not have you fucking about with my family. I will not have your self pitying vendetta against the world get in the way of the things that I hold dear.”
“Self pitying?”
“Yes, self pitying. So you lost some friends? Join the queue. You lost your family… well boo freaking hoo, seems we’ve all had some of that to deal with.” I can see the hate in her eyes, but it doesn’t stop me. “Nothing gives you the right to come in here and act as if you deserve special treatment. You don’t get in Giles’ face, you don’t get in Willow’s face, and you sure as hell don’t get in my face. Am I making myself clear?”
Complete and utter rage is boiling up on her face, and a part of me dreams that she will push me. That she will give me the opportunity to vent some of my feelings from the day in a satisfyingly violent way. I know that it’s a wrong thought, a bad thought, but I sure as hell can’t help it. The look in her eyes doing nothing to dispel the notion for me.
“Does that mean it’s okay to get in Faith’s face?”
Goodbye.
Just one punch. It’s what I tell myself as my arm leaves my side. Just one punch to shut her mouth, to give her the time to think about the things that she is going to say. Just one punch to ease my anger. And it’s a beautiful punch. My muscles singing out in sublime unison as they wield my power against her nose.
“Fuck B!”
“Buffy…”
I hear the outcry but it doesn’t matter. I feel a little better. And I can always rely on Anya to offer a sound bite to soften the serious.
“I think that her mascara is still in tact, but you might have broken her nose. Great punch Buffy!”
I catch Willow’s eyes and they have gone completely wide, astonishment soon replaced by a secret signal of thumbs up approval.
“See Faith? I told you that you wouldn’t need to sit on her anymore.”
“Damn B.” She shakes her head at me, but I think a lot of it is grudging respect for the punch. Like I said, it was beautiful. “Is she out cold?”
“Uh…” I nudge her a little with my toe, “…looks to be.”
“That was all kinds of harsh there, you could’ve just tapped her.” I offer an acknowledging nod as she comes to my side. Looks down at our fallen comrade.
“I could’ve done, but she would’ve probably kept right on going. Maybe she’ll calm down a little now…”
“Yeah, sure she will B.”
I have nothing to say. It’s not as if I can retract the punch, and quite honestly I don’t think I want to. Kennedy needed to be told. That she pushed me was her own fault. I didn’t ask her too.
“Perhaps you could move her onto the couch girls, and then we can get on with the commencement of planning. Time is even more pushed now, I suggest we get cracking.”
Get cracking? I thought I just took care of that.
I don’t say anything, I just take Kennedy’s feet while Faith takes her head. Trying to place her gently upon the sofa, easing her down with a placating look towards my girlfriend.
“Sorry I lost it there. Rough day, you know?”
“Ain’t me that’s gonna want a sorry, B.” She moves the hair from Kennedy’s face and studies her ballooning nose. A tiny smirk lighting up her features. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me who got you pissed. That’s one booboo that’s gonna hurt like hell.”
I study my handiwork too, and yes, it looks like it may hurt later. Luckily Kennedy has the healing powers of a slayer. Her nose might need them. It should stop her ‘fuck me’ eyes for a while though, I hear they don’t really look so good with swollen features.
Ooo bitchy Buffy.
I try and stop the bad thoughts by thinking instead of the business thoughts. Our lack of time to prepare for what will need to be done. Whatever that may be. “Do you think that we’ll be able to deal with the council before she comes back round?”
“Not likely, but we can give it a go. That was one meaty as fuck punch B, she’s gotta be out of it for a couple of hours at least.”
A couple of hours. Barely even time to get my hair done.
“I guess we should get to it then?”
“I guess we should.”
She gives one last faint touch to Kennedy’s swelling face. A little shake of the head, and whispered words of damn, punctuating the gesture. “You sure clocked her good B.”
“She kinda deserved it a little.” Or maybe a lot.
“Yeah… I get that.” She slaps her hand lightly against my ass as if to get me moving back towards the others. Or maybe as a small smack of chastisement. Either way it does get me moving, turning away from the sofa to try my hardest at making plans. Trying to ignore the clock. Feeling the weight of the embossed business card as it burns an impatient print against the seat of my pants. Time is precious, and for us it is running out.
I stare into the mirror and run my hands through my hair for the one thousandth time this evening. Nervous as hell and showing the signs. I’m not so sure why I’m so nervous, what it is that has me fussing about my style as if it really makes a difference. But I know that it isn’t fear. I do not fear them. There is absolutely nothing that they can do to me that I cannot return to them a hundred fold. But still, there is something. Little niggling, nagging worries that just won’t fade away.
They wanted the power this bad, and I have to wonder what they will do once they realise that the power is lost to them forever. I can’t imagine that they will be pleased about it, not one bit. I can’t imagine that they will offer the handshake of an English gentleman, and just turn and walk away. I do imagine that there are going to be repercussions… and that is where the worry lies. Just how far reaching the repercussions are going to be. Who else in my family is going to have to suffer.
When Dawn had arrived home with Cordy this evening, she had been in a much better mood, proving beyond doubt that Faith was right with her shopping fund instead of therapy fund idea. She squealed her way through showing me the shoes that had been bought for her, and then she squealed a whole lot louder when showing me the matching skirt and top that went with the shoes. There was lots of squealing. It didn’t hide the fact that there was still some sadness sitting in her eyes though, couldn’t hide the fact that she still had a head full of super sized apprehensions. I had tried to lift her spirits with whispered tales of Kennedy’s rapid descent from my fist, but even that could only bring a half sparkle to her eyes. Maybe her sadness is the real cause of my worry, my memory still so raw of the night that she had tried to call time on her suffering forever, wondering how far she can be pushed before she thinks about trying that kind of exit again. I couldn’t take losing Dawn .
There are lots of people that I could not bear to lose, but my sister sits firmly at the top of the tree. Losing her would be like losing mom all over again, the kind of pain that reminds you of it’s presence every morning upon waking… the time when your mouth actually opens to call out to them, your ears straining to pick up sounds of their movement down below. And then the realisation that you can never say hello to them again, can never moan about early waking on a Saturday morning due to excessive use of the vacuum cleaner. That they really are gone forever. Some mornings I can feel the pain of mom just as bad as in the very first moments. My throat constricting with the taste of bile, my skin clammy with the fear of what I was seeing. I couldn’t take the loss of my sister as well.
I wonder if I can take any of it anymore.
Looking into my own eyes and seeing the shadow of all of the things that they have seen, I feel a hundred years old. I may not have the wrinkles to prove it, but if you cracked open my body and looked at my soul, I’m sure that you could see exactly how aged I am. How exhausted.
“Buffy..?”
Her voice makes my gaze break away from it’s internal observations and switch to her instead, standing solitary in my room, a lopsided grin matching the sparkle of her eyes.
“Hey Tara, what’s up?”
“Nothing’s up, I just wondered how you’re going, how you’re feeling.” She comes closer as she speaks, resting when she is near enough to place a hand upon my shoulder. “That was some pretty big aggression earlier, it’s not like you to lose it like that.”
“She pushed me.”
“She’s just a girl. I don’t think she means to be quite so confrontational, she’s been through a lot…”
“No more sob stories Tara, please?” I walk over to my bed and offer her the seat beside me, making a grab for a pillow, something to hold onto. “It wasn’t like I planned to hit her so hard, it just… happened. I’ll…”
“Apologise?”
Eww. Do I really have to? But of course I know the answer. I have to apologise because we need the team to be together on this. Facing the might of the council is bad enough as it is, without making it harder by isolating the troops. Yep. Humble pie is on the menu.
“I will apologise for hitting her so hard.” I smile a little smile. “Not for hitting her in the first place though, she was pushing me. She knows what she was doing.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but she can not hide the amusement in them.
“You’re probably right. After her little show for Willow the other night, I’m sure she knows exactly what she was doing.”
“Has she come around yet?”
I expect that she has, after all, it’s been a few hours now since I rendered her unconscious.
“Kind of. She’s still a little groggy, feeling the effects.”
“Is she…”
“Yes. Faith and Angel took her down to the basement, Andrew’s there too. Once you’re ready we’ll do the containment spell.” I nod along to her words and wonder at how much time we have left. “We’ll be able to hear everything, but unless you need us, we won’t be moving.”
We’ve decided that for the meeting with the council it will just be Giles, Angel and myself. Kennedy needs to be nowhere near them, and Faith isn’t overly keen on not killing them either. And maybe that is why I’m so worried. Knowing that Faith will not be at my side when I face them.
At least Dawn won’t be here. Xander and Anya have taken her over to theirs for a sleepover, protecting my sanity the smallest amount by assuring me that whatever repercussions do occur, they will not be touching my sister. Not tonight.
“I wish I knew what to expect.” I fall back onto the bed as I speak, closing my eyes for a second until her touch rests against my arm.
“Come on sweetie, you’re gonna give them hell, they won’t know what’s hit them.”
“It’s what they’re gonna hit us with in return that scares me.”
The room slips into a silence that isn’t peaceful, the noises in my head making sure that I don’t have a second to switch off. The endless possibilities flitting fast through my already melting mind. I almost jump when she says my name, hearing it echo a few times before I remember where I am, and who is here.
“Sorry Tara, what did you say?”
“I said that there could be another way.” It’s words that have me rising from my reclined position, words which have me staring deep into her eyes. Eyes which are shifting around the room, fixing upon the door, skittish and uncomfortable.
“What do you mean, another way?”
“Maybe a spell… we’re uh, not sure.”
Her voice has dropped to a near whisper, her gaze as troubled as I have ever seen it. And I want to know.
“Tara?”
“It could be nothing, I wasn’t going to mention it… only, with the not knowing what’s going to happen, seeing you so worried…”
“Just tell me.” Her eyes catch mine, still doubtful. “Please?”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to jump all over it. Only… me and Willow have been researching our old texts, and with the tapping of Kennedy’s essence to locate potentials… we were just thinking…”
“Thinking what?”
“Oh goddess, I don’t even know if it can be done.” I am so darn confused, and yet she still looks so much more so. Her head dropping, her hair falling to cover her features, her voice reverting back to the Tara of old. Stuttering unsurely. “I don’t kn… know if it ‘should’ be done.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
I can’t take this much longer. I’ve never considered violence towards Tara, but at this precise second I can feel a slight leaning towards torturous interrogation. Just say what you have to say!
“It’s about the potentials. We don’t just think that we can find them Buffy…” Her head raises now, bringing the sight of her troubled eyes back to mine. “…we think that we can activate them… we think that we can ‘make’ slayers.”
Holy freaking hell.
“Say that again?”
“It’s the essence, we think we know how to release it into the potentials.”
She falls silent and settles for staring at me, but I am silent too. We have only just found out that there were such things as potentials out there, now finding out that we have maybe the possibility of the ability to turn them all into slay girls… it’s mind boggling madness.
“Buffy?”
“Sorry, I just… oh my god Tara. Are you sure?”
“Not sure. Not positive. But with Willow’s abilities..?”
I know what she means. With Willow’s abilities, it is sure enough. “Holy cow.”
I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to say. I barely know what to think.
“Does anybody else know, have you spoken to Giles, Faith?”
“We thought we should talk to you first. Faith is fantastic, but over excitable, and Giles, well, we worried that he might want to do it just to see if we could.”
“I’m sure that you could.”
My absolute belief does not bring a smile to her face. In fact she looks almost upset that her and Willow could harness this level of power. “What is it Tara, what’s wrong?”
“I’m worried.”
We should maybe start a club.
“Because of Wills right, you’re scared that the magic might hurt her?”
“No!” That does make her smile. “I have no worries there, she’s doing great Buffy, you must be able to tell?”
“She certainly seems better balanced.”
“She is better balanced.”
“So the worries…”
“Right. The worry.” I prepare my shoulders to carry more burden, to ease whatever woes she may have. “It just seems like an extremely big liberty to take, it seems to me that it would make us almost as bad as the council…”
“Huh?!” Because really. “Take me through that again?”
“Think about it, what’s the difference between the council taking them away from their families, and us turning them into slayers? Kennedy said she was taken at eight, imagine being a slayer at eight.”
No thank you.
“It’s why we weren’t sure about saying anything Buffy, we don’t want to end up doing something that we don’t believe is right.”
“Wills feel the same?”
She nods her head, and I believe her. “So why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know.”
I rise from the bed and start the ritual pacing. Trying to work out what this means to us, what it could mean to us. How it could change my future. “But you really think that you could do it?”
“Yes.”
Her head drops again as she says it, and I stop my pacing to approach her. Not having a clue what we are going to do, but determined to impress to Tara that I will suggest nothing rash. That she was right to tell me.
“Hey, come on.” I drop to my knees in front of her, reaching out my hands to rest upon her legs. “You were right to tell me Tara, you’ve done a good thing.”
“It doesn’t feel so good.”
“That’s because you’re over worrying. At least now I know that we have a fall back plan, that if the council decide to push it, then we have a way to ultimately beat them down.” She raises her eyebrows at me, not looking completely pleased that she has provided me with the plan. “And I promise you, no decision about what to do will be made without you. We wouldn’t ask something of you that you didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
It seems as if my words are what she needed to hear, because now she finds that Tara smile for me again. So soft and gentle. Such a loving smile. “I believe you Buffy. I trust you.”
She leans forward and places a chaste kiss atop my head, using the motion to pull herself up from the bed, to stretch her limbs out. “I should probably get back downstairs, make sure that Kennedy isn’t hitting on Willow in my absence.”
“If you’re worried, I could hit her again?”
She tinkles out a little laughter, flashes another glimpse of that lopsided grin. “Maybe you shouldn’t. I think I can handle it.”
“Well if you do need me, my fists of fury are more than ready.”
She keeps on smiling as she leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Leaving me with oh so much to think about. So much more to think about. Not plagued by worry of the council now, but plagued by worry about what I should decide about the potentials. I meant what I had said to Tara, I wouldn’t force anything upon them that they didn’t want to do, but I still have to make a decision for myself. An opinion to offer to the others, a point of view to share around.
That we could have a hoard of slayers, hell, an army of slayers… it’s a pretty euphoric kind of thought. Dismissing the negatives to think only of the positives, then it becomes one of the most euphoric thoughts that I have ever had. I mean… I could be finished. I could retire. I could dictate my hours of slaying, instead of the hours dictating me. And sure I would help with anything really big and bad, perhaps as a battle consultant or something, but the rest of the time I could rest. Perhaps on a beach, perhaps at sunset, and perhaps in the arms of the woman I love.
And then there are the negatives. The slivers of doubt that Tara had slipped into my mind as easily as the splinters from the door frame had slid into my palm earlier. Could we really knowingly activate children as slayers? Could we knowingly choose to activate anyone? The chances of any given potential ever coming to realise the extent of her hidden powers is ridiculously slim, and life is surely better that way. Could I stand at the front of the room and advocate taking that life away? Could I really be that selfish?
Can my mind really take much more?
For the moment it is saved by the door opening again, by Faith coming into view with her hair held up in a ponytail. She hardly ever has her hair up, it looks cute. She looks innocent.
“Hey girl, it’s nearly rumble time, you feeling up for it?”
“Getting there, I think.” I go back to sit on the bed, smiling as she pulls herself up behind me, her legs placed either side of mine. “You still not wanting to join in?”
“I don’t think I should B.” A sigh falls from my lips as she runs her fingers through my hair, starts weaving strands into a tiny braid. “I swear as soon as they start acting up, I’d be desperate to hurt them. It’s been a tough journey back to here, I’d hate to screw it up because of them.”
“I understand.” And I do. As much as I would give anything to have her at my side, I get how hard it would be for her to rein herself in. “You’ll just be down below if I need you, I know that.”
“Sure will be. But hopefully you won’t need us. Maybe they’ll do the decent thing and just fuck off.” The way she says it lets me know that she believes in that kind of outcome just as much as I do. It’s sweet that she says it though, that she’s trying to be so positive. Especially when she doesn’t even know about the ace that I hold up my sleeve, the talk of a spell that would surely end the council’s dominance over the slayer forever. And I want to tell her.
I want to whisper into her ear the secret that is whizzing round and around in circles in my brain. I want to discuss the possibilities, the downfalls and the highlights, I want to know what she thinks. I want to hear that it’s not completely wrong. That maybe, just maybe, the possibility of a happy ending has become a whole lot more possible. I can’t tell her though, not yet. I have to know what I think before I can begin to contemplate what it is that she thinks. And then there’s Kennedy to consider now, surely she will have to have an input, and Giles… probably everyone. I think I understand why Tara was so reluctant to say anything.
“What ya thinking B?” She tugs at the little braid she has made to get my attention. My mind working quick to cover my wayward thoughts.
“Just what to say, where to start. I don’t like Quentin Travers, I almost can’t wait to see him squirm when we tell him that we know.”
“Don’t take your eyes off of him B.” She starts untwiddling the little braid now, straightening my hair back out. “A monster that size is bound to carry a sting in it’s tail, keep watch for it.”
Her concern is as cute as her ponytail, softness seeping through the cracks of her business like tone.
“I’ll keep watch Faith, any sign of stinging tails and I’ll scream as loud as I can. I scream, you come. It’s a plan.”
“You scream, I come?” I nod my head. “It’s usually you coming when you scream B.”
And softness has gone, cute has gone, and innocence has sure as hell gone. Now there’s only husky and the definite feel of her fingertips creeping down across my head to slide across the expanse of my neckline. Looking for a way in, an entrance under a top that sits tight against my skin.
“Is someone feeling a little horny still?”
“I’m always feeling horny still.” I lean back as her touch becomes more insistent, a gasp escaping my throat as her hand slides straight under and around, her fingers closing firm around a nipple. “What about you B, are you horny?”
If I wasn’t, I am now. A moan slipping from my throat in response to her insistent touches. Arching back further as her other hand slides under my top to join in the fun. “Wait Faith, we don’t have time…”
“There’s always time for loving, B.”
If only. Instead there’s more noise at my door, a solid knock against wood. “Girls?”
Giles.
I reluctantly straighten myself up to sitting again, silently cursing as Faith’s hands slide from my breasts to my shoulders, just the innocence of a massage. “Come in Giles.”
And he does. All dressed in best in a suit, and looking officious. “Right, I think it’s time that we get into our positions, the council are due in an hour, I’d hate to be caught out by them again.”
“Not gonna happen Giles.” I offer Faith my disappointed eyes as I raise from the bed, holding my hand out for her to pull up on. Loving, it seems, will have to wait until later. For now I only turn back to Giles, slipping my slayer persona firmly into place. “They will be the ones caught out this time, the ones on the back foot.”
“Yes, that would be the plan.”
I can see the whisper of worry in his eyes, can hear it in his tone. It makes me wish that I could share my secret with him as well, could reassure him just how much power we really do have in our corner. But no. Not yet.
“Well let’s get to it then, is everybody else ready?”
“Yes. The girls and Andrew are down below, Angel is in the front room. It’s just you and Faith that we’re waiting for.”
“Okay. We’ll be right down.”
He looks as if he isn’t sure to leave us, perhaps worrying that we won’t make it from the bedroom. A valid worry. I wish. Eventually turning to go with words like, be quick, and, do hurry.
“This is it then B, time to cut the apron strings for good.”
“I should of done it years ago, I never should have gone back to them.”
“You didn’t know.”
“The clues were all there Faith, the council have always been less than admirable.”
She agrees with a solemn nod. “Too right. And now you get to tell them that.”
It’s my turn to nod now as I go to the door, calling on all of my strength to wrench it open. To not just barricade myself in here with the feel good factor of being with Faith.
“Hey B?” I find her right behind me when I turn to face her, her eyes smiling as she drops a soft kiss against my lips. “For luck.”
And so I return the gesture. Maybe with a little more passion, a little more hunger, but then she does look so damn adorable with her hair all tied up like that.
She’s smiling even larger as I break away from her lips, pretending to fan her face gently from all of the heat. “Damn. I guess I must be really lucky.”
“No, just incredibly cute.”
“Whoa, first pretty, now cute? I’m gonna start thinking that you have a bit of a thing for me B.”
I want to call her an idiot, but I don’t. I listen instead to the sound of Giles huffing and puffing his impatient way back up the stairs. Knowing that the banter has to come to a close. “I’ll tell you all about it later Faith.”
“I can live with that.”
She shoots me a little wink as Giles comes into view, uses her voice to tell me to get a move on, apologising to Giles for the few seconds overtime we had taken. And I straighten my shoulders even more. My mind is still swirling, tossing up endless possibilities that I have yet to consider, but also flowing now with the promise of the later. Perhaps considering the selfish thoughts a little harder as I realise just how much I want the later to last forever.
Peace and comfort and Faith. It’s the hardest possibility to dismiss.
Copyright © 2004,
All Rights Reserved. | Contact Owner Contact Webmaster
