Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar for an amazingly quick turnaround despite the busy holiday season, and for the many great suggestions on polishing this up. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. Happy Holidays everyone. Note about the timeline: Most of the recent events are crammed together in the January time-frame. There hasn’t been the long build-up like there was in S7, and I’m not sure that’s clear. Please review, it’s the perfect gift!

In our fifteenth installment Faith receives some information from an old friend, Spike has a run-in with one of his victims, and someone finds Jonathan.


Chapter 15: Visits From Old Friends


Faith rolled up to sit on the couch and threw off the afghan. Her head was still pounding and she clutched it in her hands for a minute. It was dark outside and her wounds had closed up. Had she slept through the whole day? Had Buffy and Spike made it? The girls?

"Can I get you anything, Faith?"

She raised her head and squinted at Joyce. "How long was I out?"

Joyce stroked her hair. "Willow brought you in about an hour ago. You're looking much better."

An hour? She examined her thigh where the thing's claws had nearly gone through her. She could barely make out a little pink line through the torn leather. Being all god-filled had it's bennies.

"Nah. I'm good. Thanks, Joyce."

She felt Joyce squeeze her shoulder. Joyce was always warm, she radiated it like a stove. It was a nice feeling. The phone rang and Joyce went to answer it, taking the warmth with her.

And then there was an intense wave of cold.

"That was Buffy," Joyce reported. "She and Spike took care of the monster and now they're resting at home."

Faith nodded, only half hearing her. "Good. That's good. Stay here. There's something outside."

She stood; her leg wasn't even sore. Faith drew her axe out of the umbrella stand by the door and stepped out onto the porch. Something dark and tall stomped toward her.

"Angel?" He was holding something, so it had to be the real thing. Also the First didn't give her chills.

"Faith. Good to see you."

"Buffy's not home."

"Yeah." Angel wrinkled his nose. "I saw her earlier. She seemed... occupied."

It took her about two seconds to work that out. "With fighting a giant monster or with Spike's--"

Angel made a pained face. "About that, how long..."

Faith shrugged. "A while. They've got an apartment together now."

Angel kicked a porch column. "She threw me over for Captain Peroxide?" Time for the big puppy eyes. "She's not actually in love with him, is she?"

Had she actually had a crush on this guy at some point? She did not need a pet who was this high maintenance. Faith crossed her arms and gave him her best tough girl look. "Why are you here, Angel?"

He stopped sulking and handed her a folder.

"What's this?" She took the folder, but kept the scythe at the ready.

"Heard you guys are taking on the First. We got this from a... contact. Thought you might need it." He took something shiny out of his pocket. "There's also this."

She set the folder aside, took the necklace, and turned it over in her hands. It pulsed against her palm. "What is it?"

"It's not for you."

"The hell it's not. What is it?"

"I don't know everything. It's very powerful and probably very dangerous. It has a purifying power... cleansing power? Possibly scrubbing bubbles. The translation is... anyway, it bestows strength to the right person."

"You don't think I'm the right person?"

He smiled at her and she couldn't help the way it made her feel all gooey inside. "It has to be someone ensouled but stronger than human. A champion. As in me."

"Souled and stronger than human? Sounds like me," Faith pointed out.

"No. I don't know nearly enough about this to risk you wearing it. Besides, you've got that real cool axe-thing going for you." He waved at her weapon.

She smiled at his tone. "Angel, I... thanks for your concern, seriously, but I'm a lot stronger than you think." She took a step toward him. "A lot's happened to me since I left LA."

He took a step forward as well and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Faith?" There was wonder in his voice. "What did you do?"

Suddenly he wasn't cold anymore. There was warmth to him, like her demon heart had suddenly recognized him, remembered that she'd tortured his best friend and beaten him nearly to a pulp and he had still seen right through her and wanted to help her, and maybe had loved her just a little.

She hugged him, carefully, still holding her axe. "Go back to LA, Angel," she whispered in his ear. "If we fail here, the First is going to roll your way and you and Wes have will have to stop it." She felt his arms tighten around her. "Go home."

"You're sure? I could help you here."

His voice rumbled through her and his arms were strong. He smelled good. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bad pet after all. She turned her head and caught his lips with hers. He tensed for a minute, but then returned the kiss.

When she couldn't breathe any more, she pulled back and stepped away from him. Angel was blinking in shock, looking like a stunned animal. "I should go home."

Faith nodded and licked her lips. "Thank you, Angel, seriously, for... lots of things." She grabbed the folder and ducked into the house before she did anything else extremely unwise.

--------

Anya shelved a few more books and handed the rest to Andrew. Buffy, looking tired but happy crashed in through the door. She gave them an unsettling smile. "I think it's time."

Anya nodded to Anil and Diane and then followed Andrew and Buffy downstairs where the other Scoobies were staring at the captured Bringer. Spike was there too, and he and Buffy practically floated together on a cloud of pheromones. Spike kept adjusting his jacket like he could really hide anything. It really wasn't fair, all these people having hot sweaty sex while she went home to an empty bed.

Not that she was looking to get anyone else in there right now. It wasn't that she wanted anyone new. She just wished the rest of them would stop screwing each other or at least be more discrete about it.

"You still haven't been able to reach Travers?" Buffy asked Giles.

"Still no word," Giles confirmed.

"Stupid withholding council," Buffy muttered.

Willow cleared her throat and started reciting, "Konus bizimle guzel adam, konus bizimle gozleri olmayan adam."

The Bringer didn't say anything. Which made sense to Anya, since he couldn't move his mouth.

"I am a drone in the mind that is evil," Andrew said in his comic book voice.

"Why is Andrew observing this exactly?" Giles asked, his expression extremely British and peevish.

"I say I am a part of the Great Darkness."

"Dammit, that should have worked," Willow groused.

"Guys," Anya pointed out. "He's speaking for it."

"I am only a fragment of the We. We work as one to serve The First."

"Okay, what do you, the We, do for The First?" Willow asked.

"We work to prepare for the inevitable battle. We attend to the needs of the infinite evil. We exterminate girls and destroy the legacy of the slayer. We build an arsenal beneath the dirt."

Buffy had her hardest face on. Anya felt a little robbed that the Bringer couldn't see it. "Tell us more about the arsenal."

"We build weapons to prepare for the coming war. At the farthest edge of town. We are everywhere. We are like the ocean's waves. We watch your efforts and are not scared. We will laugh at you as you die. Our army will overrun the earth and our god will be made flesh."

Giles stepped forward and drew a knife across the Bringer's neck.

Andrew screamed bloody murder. "What the bananas! You are so lucky that you did not just magickally decapitate me!"

"Yes, that would have been a tremendous loss," Giles remarked.

"Okay," Tara sighed. "So, where is the army being built? Maybe we could, I don't know, ambush them or something?"

Faith shook her head. "It could be anywhere in this town. The tunnels underground go everywhere. If the First is smart, he'll be keeping his primal vamps scattered around just to avoid us doing that. And I haven't felt any big cold spots."

Buffy frowned. "They're laughing at us. How many ubervamps would it take to defeat eight slayers?"

The morbid conference was broken up suddenly by a scream from upstairs. They all raced up to find a bloodied and battered Deirdre collapsed against the counter.

"Needs slayer blood," she panted. "Needs slayer blood to open the door. Jonathan said... he needed me to soak the seal and the second sun would bring the reckoning."

Anya stood back and let the watchers and the older slayers attend to Deirdre. Willow took something from the young slayer's hand and walked over. She held up a clump of dark hair, some scraps of skin still attached.

"I have to stop Jonathan," she intoned quietly.

Anya nodded and started gathering up supplies. "We don't know how strong he is now. You have to be careful."

Tara came up behind them. "Willow, what are you doing?"

"Taking care of a problem," Willow answered harshly.

Anya handed her the book she knew the witch needed. Willow placed her hand over the cover. Glowing yellow letters slithered over the skin on her arms and then across her face. Willow gasped and leaned forward on the table.

"Willow!" Giles had noticed them. "What do you think you are doing?"

The witch turned to the watcher with glowing black eyes. "I'm taking care of a problem. You keep the slayers safe."

Before anyone could object further, Willow was gone. "It's too late anyway," Buffy said tiredly. "Faith and I bled all over that seal last night. That attack is coming tomorrow."

"Yeah, about that," Faith replied. "I've got some intel on that. Angel brought it by last night. Thought you guys should take a look at it." She poked the hideous necklace she was wearing. "Also he gave me this purifying necklace thing."

Buffy blinked, then started turning a brilliant shade of red. "Angel was in town last night?"

Spike looked like he might swallow his tongue trying not to laugh and Faith grinned widely. "You knew!" she shouted at Spike. "You knew it was him there!"

The vampire just smirked and held out his hand for the folder. "Let's see what old Granddad has given us here."

-----


Spike craved a cigarette, among other things. It had quieted in The Magic Box, leaving just Anya and himself to watch the boy Andrew and keep an ear on the girls training in the basement. The Scoobies were taking a lunch break after having combed through Angel's intel.

Everything was coming apart, they were facing an army they couldn't begin to measure up against, and Spike was feeling whole and himself for the first time in yonks. Buffy's blood still coursed through his system, helping him stay awake through the sleepy sunlit hours, not to mention providing the energy he needed after their vigorous morning romps. His girl had to be exhausted though, which worried him.

He stretched and looked around the store. Deirdre sat staring into the middle distance; it was a mood Spike knew all too well.

"We're all going to die," she hissed under her breath.

"Oh no," Anya objected half-heartedly. "I'm sure they'll think of something. I don't know what but something."

"Aren't you scared?" Deirdre asked him.

Spike considered it. Only a fool wouldn't be frightened. A little pack of girls, some witches and watchers, one vampire against an army raised by the root of evil; the odds weren't in their favor. He had very little faith in Angel's trinket. "Already dead, love," he replied in the lightest tone he could manage.

"You're about to be a lot deader."

The principal. He should have known the man would come around eventually. Spike was no longer haunted by the shades of his prey, but not all of his victims were dead.

"Do you know who I am?"

Spike stood up and stared the man down. "Yeah. Know who you are, know what I did to your mum. That was a long time ago."

The principal sneered and aimed his crossbow. "It felt even longer to me."

Anya banged something heavy on the table. "Hey, you are not doing this here!"

Spike ignored her and prepared to strike, but then a wailing siren pierced the air and the principal spun around to see what was going on.

What looked like military vehicles rolled down the streets. Voices, eerily calm and oddly British voices sounded from bullhorns. "Evacuate in an orderly fashion. Hazardous material spill. This area is contaminated. Evacuate in an orderly fashion."

The principal gave him a long look and lowered his weapon. "This seem legitimate to you?"

"Not at all," Spike replied. He turned to Anya. "Lock up. Gather up the girls. We're going back to the house through the sewers."

"We're not done here," Nicole's child objected.

Spike glanced at the man's haunted face. He'd only just gotten rid of his own ghosts. He knew how the other man felt. "Another day," he replied. "If there is another day."

---------

Willow glided down the sidewalk. People were running and shouting. Horns blared from cars crammed onto the streets. She ignored it all as she reached out with other senses.

An older man with a cane gave her a dirty look as he passed and something clicked. She whispered, "aperio" and-- poof-- there was Jonathan. He took off, but she had his signature now and took off after him, following him despite his repeated attempts at distracting glamours.

They moved through the crowds into a vacant area near the docks. Perfect. She cornered him in a vacant warehouse.

"My master is more powerful than you can possibly imagine!"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Incendere"

"Exstinguo!" he bellowed as flames leapt up his legs. "Morior!" he lobbied back at her, and so it continued.

Most of his spells were easily deflected, but others hit their mark. Willow knew she was bruising, and that she might have to wear scarves for a few days to cover the damage to her hair. She didn't let it bother her though. Her spells were doing much more damage due to the hunk of his hair and the herbs Anya had packed into the little bag around her neck.

"Bored now," she taunted him, with an exaggerated sigh. She directed another blast at him, and Jonathan toppled back to the floor. She leaned against the wall as he struggled to get to his feet. She'd catch her breath, get in a few more hits, and then finish him.

Jonathan rolled on his stomach and lumbered to his feet. He stumbled a few steps away from her, and muttered a sad, "Willow, please." It wasn't his voice, but it was familiar.

When he turned to look at her again, he was wearing Xander's face.

"Please, Willow, I love you."

She could feel the tears running down her face, but she struck just the same. She screamed as the blast hit him. "Please, Willow." Another blast, then another. She could hardly see through the tears. "I love you, please." She knew she was bawling; she didn't care. It's not real, her brain insisted, even as she reeled from the sight of herself tearing Xander apart. Not real, not real.

Finally he collapsed, but his beloved face still looked up at her. Desperate and bleeding, her best friend blinking up at her. "Please, don't."

Willow felt her breath coming in hiccups, her entire mind and body exhausted from the effort. She sank to her knees beside him. "Have mercy, Willow," he croaked, like a prayer.

"I can be merciful," she agreed. Her hands wrapped around his neck. "fracta," she whispered against her screaming senses.

The Xander-shaped thing gasped once as his spine snapped, and then it was just Jonathan. Dead, dead Jonathan staring up at her with big empty eyes.

She scooted back and lay against the wall, feeling every bit of strength seep out of her. Strands of white hair floated across the floor, and when she drew her hands across her scalp, more came away in her fingers.

So she'd killed the First's right-hand man. They still had an army to defeat and probably the whole thing was hopeless. She was done. Willow curled on the floor and closed her eyes.

"Hey Wills." She blinked up at him. He wasn't bloody anymore, except for his chest. "You have to get up."

"Xander?"

"I'm not supposed to be here, but they can bite me. You have to get up, Willow. They need you."

"I'm so tired, Xander."

"I know." He hugged her tight once, and she felt the warmth rush through her. "But you can do it." He stood and stepped back. "You're strong, you're incredible, and you're going to protect them, but you have to get up, Willow." He kept moving backward, away from her, taking all of the light with him. "Stand up, Willow."

"I'm up!" she shouted to the echoing warehouse. She pushed up off the floor and staggered for the door.

"There you are!" Buffy grabbed her up in a crushing hug. "I was so worried. Are you okay? What happened to your hair?"

Willow blinked a few times against the sunlight. The fresh January air filled her lungs. "Jonathan's been taken care of."

Buffy shook her head. "You didn't have to do that, Willow. I would have done it."

Willow smiled. "I know, but I didn't want you to have to be a killer too, Buffy." She shrugged. "Think of it as a really morbid birthday present."

Buffy have her a half-smile and carried her to the motorcycle. "Come on, we need to get home. Something crazy is going on in this town."

"When isn't it?"

She held on to Buffy as they wove in and out of the crawling traffic. Men and women in camouflage barked orders that Buffy ignored. An Army-style personnel truck lumbered past them going into town.

Half-asleep on Buffy's shoulder, she had the passing thought that the driver guy looked familiar, and then she was too tired to think anything anymore.



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I didn’t forget about the motorcycles, you see. I know some of you guessed about the Angel thing; I just couldn’t resist, and I hope it isn’t too much. I’m working on sixteen now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it all written before the new year, but I’m going to try. My fabulous beta will be on vacation. Unbeta-ed chapters may be posted on my lj (msclawdia.livejournal.com).