Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for the rapid turn around on this deluge of chapters. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. I hope folks will like my twist on canon in this chapter.

In our eleventh installment Buffy and Faith encounter the Shadow Men.

Chapter 11: Darkness


Buffy didn't wear armor. She went into battle in jeans and boots, a sensible sweater. Still, watching her fasten her laces and pull back her hair with that set, determined face, Spike knew he was watching a warrior gird herself for battle. With that serious expression and severe hairstyle, it was hard to believe that not twenty minutes ago she had been riding him at a gallop, biting down hard on his arm to keep from screaming out her release. That was part of the preparations too, he knew, working out a little nervous energy. He couldn’t see his way to minding much.

She'd had one of her dreams again, he could tell. Her slayer dreams were something she didn't discuss with him, at least not directly. She'd tell the group or Giles a detail or two, but mostly she kept them to herself.

The slayer is always alone. Buffy wasn’t like other slayers, and she wouldn't have lived so long if that were always true for her. But sometimes it was, and he tried to respect that.

"The Watchers say the stuff in the box is related to the First Slayer," she told him again. "I've met her before, already unlocked that door." Something flashed in her eyes, but then she shook her head.

"Be careful, Buffy."

She gave him a wan smile and he took her outstretched hand, let her reel him in close for a moment. He kissed her palm and steeled his face against the joy of being needed by her. Anything she asked of him, he would gladly give. He wished she would ask more than just these small gestures of support, but maybe it just wasn’t his time to play the hero.

"We should go," she intoned solemnly. He could feel the nervousness in her.

"Hold, slayer. Got something for you."

He slid the scabbard out of its hiding place beneath the bed. Anya had brought it over, traded it for the burbling boy. Spike still wasn't sure there was a jot of usefulness in the git, but it wasn't worth starting a row over.

He pointed the handle toward her and watched her pull the sword from its sheath. "Spike," she whispered, "this is..."

She had that possessive look on, the one that made him bristle a bit. Which meant it was genuine. "Slayer weapon, yeah. Knew there had to be more. Set about finding them."

Buffy swished it through the air experimentally a few times before sheathing it and hefting the scabbard over her shoulder. She stepped to him and ran her fingernails over his jaw line. "You..." She shook her head and kissed him lightly on the lips.

It didn't bother him much. Spike had learned that she shut down bits of herself when she went into soldier girl mode. The space she was in, she couldn't find those feelings. "You can thank me properly later, pet," he assured her.

Her eyes were big. "I hope... Spike, I hope you have some idea of what you are to me."

"And what is that, love?"

Her lip twitched between a frown and a smile. "I don't know if there's a word for it," she said finally.

Concubine, the word you're looking for is concubine. He pushed the voice away. Spike was getting good at pushing voices away. If he listened to the yew and haw of every shade haunting his soul he would lose himself completely. Then what good would he be to her? They popped up from time to time, wide-eyed and pale, to stare at him as he had a shower or dealt a hand in Willy’s back room. If he closed his eyes they were still there, just part of his punishment.

When they’d stopped coming to him in the caves, he’d known it was time to go home. He’d been free of them until the First arrived. Now he wasn’t sure if they were true ghosts or just the First playing one of Its games. Probably he ought to mention it to someone.

"I love you," she interrupted his reverie. "Is that enough for now?"

A slow grin spread across his face. That was always enough.

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Buffy felt cold and dizzy and tried really hard not to feel fear. Faith was next to her, after all. And Willow would get them out of there if anything wiggy happened. Not that Willow would necessarily know if anything wiggy happened. Or wiggier, anyway, than what was already happening, what with the three murky guys in wacky hats thinking at them.

"We know who you are."

"And we know why you're here."

"We've been waiting."

She was hearing the words in her head, not with her ears. Buffy hated when they did that. It was so creepy having the words just bouncing around in there out of nowhere. Faith didn't look any happier about it either.

"Cool," she snapped. "Why don't you tell us why we're here then?" Faith suggested.

"We have been here since the beginning."

"Now, we are almost at the end."

"The end of what?" Buffy asked urgently.

"You are the hellmouth's last guardian."

"Latest," Faith insisted. "You mean latest guardian."

"No."

Buffy was losing patience quickly with the stoic, cryptic routine. "Okay, um, I have a First to fight. So just tell me what I need to know. I came to learn."

"We cannot give you knowledge. Only power."

"Power sounds good." Faith replied.

Buffy felt something wrap around her and she was suddenly against the cave wall, held in the air against the stone. A ridge of rock dug into her spine. She sighed. She should have known something like this would happen. "What is this?"

She could see Faith trying to find some way to get up to her, a pissed off expression on her face. Like she was feeling passed over at not also being pinned to the wall by freaky shadow guys. Or inconvenienced at having to help the older slayer.

"We are at the beginning. The source of your strength. The well of the slayer's power."

"This is why we have brought you here."

"I thought we brought ourselves here," Buffy pointed out, struggling against her invisible bonds. "Listen, you guys, I’m already the slayer, bursting with power. Really don't need any more."

"The First Slayer did not talk so much." One of the shadowy figures opened a box. "Herein lies your truest strength."

"The energy of the demon. Its spirit."

"Its heart."

Grey fog rose from the box and wafted toward her. This was how they'd done it, she realized with bleak despair, how they'd made the First Slayer.

"Oh my God, look at that," Faith whispered. "It's beautiful."

"It must become one with you."

"I already have a heart!" Buffy yelled. "I don't need another one."

"Your heart is dead."

“It is foolish to refuse a gift from Y’w.”

“This is not the source of me” Buffy insisted.

“It is the source of all.”

"This will make you ready for the fight."

"By making me less human?" Buffy felt her heart seizing as the fog drifted nearer. She held her breath and shook her head frantically.

“Less what you are, more something else.”

“What you are now is not enough.”

"This is how it was then. How it must be now."

"No!" Faith was standing in front of them, looking furious. "She doesn't want it! Leave her the fuck alone. It's mine."

The fog shifted and Buffy fought against the bonds frantically as it drifted over to Faith. "Faith, no!"

The younger slayer turned on her. "Yes, Buffy. It's my turn to be first."

Buffy shook her head, feeling tears in her eyes. "You can't..."

Faith grinned. "You were with me, weren't you, in that hallway? We got the combination from the principal, Buffy. I need to open the lock."

Buffy held her breath, suddenly understanding. She nodded, just barely, and Faith nodded back. The younger slayer closed her eyes and gasped as the fog slammed into her. She staggered and then straightened her back.

The shadow men stepped forward but the floor beneath them began to shake and suddenly there was a blinding light where Faith had been.

"How do you like my darkness now?" Buffy heard before everything went dark.


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Everything looked murky, familiar but new. Her eyes swam trying to take in all the details and then suddenly there was light, light everywhere. And voices.

Something was making her hackles rise and she spun around to find an enemy kneeling over the prostrate form of her Sister. She itched to spring, but her sister's mark was all over the creature. A pet then. He would tend to her injured kin. She let them be to deal with the others who stared at her.

Daughters. She could feel them tugging at her, their fear and curiosity bouncing against her. She smiled at them, trying to reassure them. When she could remember how to speak, she would say something. There were others too, men, watching. Watching men. Watchers. They didn't seem to intend her harm, but she kept her distance. The ripple of their power in the air was dangerous.

There was another in the room too. Felt like a mate. Spicy with power. "Willow," she croaked.

"Faith?"

Feather touches on her arms and she followed their guide to stand upright. "Yeah, it's me." She swallowed, tried to think of a way to explain. "That's just not all I am any more."

Beyond the wave of red hair she could see the dark through the windows. It was cool out, and the stars were bright. Out there somewhere was the enemy. Her skin itched; she needed to be out.

"Faith." Her sister's voice, gentle and sweet, but with iron in it. “Are you okay?”

She could feel the confusion of the others, but it didn't matter. "I am… new. I feel new. And old, too.” She laughed and clamped a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

"I think it was meant for you," said her sister solemnly.

Warmth flooded through her. She was stronger now. Faster and more than her sister slayer. Still though, still, she needed the other's approval.

"It is night. We should hunt," she insisted.

Buffy nodded and Faith smiled. "That's a good idea," she agreed. "We'll grab some weapons and follow you."

Faith grinned. "Nah, B." She shook her head, feeling more and more herself. "Lead on."


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