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"Dawn."
"Excuse me?" For a brief moment Willow thought she meant Buffy's sister. Then she realized what Lockley meant. "Uh, yeah. It'll be dawn pretty soon, I guess."
Lockley shot a glance at Tara. "Bit of a problem, huh?"
Coughing, Wesley stepped forward. "I think" he said "we have to face the fact that Faith is unavoidably detained. Best for us to adjourn to my digs. Willow, Tara--shall we go? Oh, and Detective Lockley, when and if we see Faith next, we'll be sure to let her know of your interest." He then gestured toward the stairs.
Nodding to Tara, Willow made to follow Wesley out of the hall and back to the car. But Lockley stepped into their path.
"In a hurry to get somewhere before sunrise?"
"Truthfully? We're all terribly tired and would like to sleep. Might I suggest you get some rest as well? You look rather exhausted."
"Cute. Why not stick around awhile? I mean, you've waited all this time--and besides, you can watch the sun come up from the roof. Don't tell me you want to miss that."
"We're not big morning people," offered Willow, kicking herself mentally before the words were all the way out of her mouth.
Lockley didn't sneer. Quite. "I'll bet."
"Hi Everybody!" Faith ran up from the stairwell, out of breath. Her clothes were dusty, a scrape marred her cheek and a deep scratch still bled from her arm. There was even mud on her boots. She came to an abrupt stop, taking in the scene before her. Detective Lockley's expression seemed to give her pause, as did Wesley's. But she whipped out her keys with hardly a pause, heading for the door.
"Make room! Make room!"
"Yeah," muttered Lockley, "you've got a deadline."
Faith swung open her front door. She turned back to the assembled folks behind her. "Wesley, Tara, Red--come on in! Kate--I'd invite you in but, well, I don't want to."
"What a surprise."
"Not really," Faith laughed.
Tara went straight inside. Willow followed, noting how Wesley continued to stare down Detective Lockley. After another few moments, she turned to leave, but clearly not surrendering in any way. She'd be back, Willow could tell. More, they all knew it. But Willow pushed that thought to the side, joining Tara in carefully shutting the blinds in Faith's apartment. They had time until sunrise, but taking chances seemed like a bad idea. At least it did to Willow. She had a suspicion Faith in her situation might just leave the blinds open until the last possible fraction of microsecond.
"Geez, Red, relax why don't you? We've got time."
"Not as much as you'd like, I"m afraid." Wesley's voice was still, low. In other words, he was angry. Faith caught the nuance, but deliberately headed away from him.
"Hey. Got enough for a hot shower. Right now, that's all I give a damn about."
"My fear," continued Wesley as Faith headed to a door (the bathroom, Willow assumed), "is that might be literally true."
Faith shot him a glance. "Chill." It was an order.
Willow thought for a moment Wesley was going to explode. Instead, he stepped forward and whipped off his glasses. Faith's eyes were blazing, but for once her Watcher's were a match for her. "If by chill you mean go back on my word, endanger all of us as well as looking for someone else to help you commit suicide--then, no, I will not chill. And neither should you! Perhaps you hadn't noticed--but Kate Lockley has met Tara now, and because you weren't here when you said you were, she knows what she is!"
"I. Got. Delayed." Faith nearly spit out the words.
"You went out looking to be delayed! What was it this time, I wonder? An incarnation of the demon Azorath? Or perhaps a roving band of a few dozen Prekians? No, what was I thinking--I'm sure if you tried really hard you could find armies of the Misquot Clan and Serpavos hacking at each other with enough frenzy to satisfy even you!"
Now Faith slumped in feigned nonchalance. "Nah. Just a couple of vamps raiding that homeless shelter. One blonde bitch who was a good fight, but once I dusted her, the rest scattered."
"How disappointing for you."
"As a matter of fact," Faith's eyes faded a bit, "yeah. It was." Then she turned and went into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.
* * *
"Lilah!" Holland Manners rose as she entered his office. A servant was finishing up the last touches of an elaborate breakfast. The Vice President for Special Projects gestured towards the feast. "Care to join me?"
"Thank you, sir." Lilah especially eyed the coffee. She'd been up at work late, and came in early this morning. Not quite as early as Holland, unfortunately.
"Good girl."
Both lawyers sat at what amounted to a lavish, if small, dining table. Quiche and hot fresh croissants were served, along with freshly cut fruit. The coffee, poured into beautiful china cups, was excellent, as well the cream.
"I'm due to give the Senior Partners a briefing on your progress with Drusilla," noted Manners. "Any insights you care to share?"
"Drusilla is...interesting, sir."
He grinned. "I'm sure. Just as I'm sure you're up to the challenge."
Lilah collected her thoughts for a moment. "She is of course an extremely powerful vampire, sir, made more-so because of her obvious insanity. I'm told her symptoms match that of a fairly straightforward schizophrenic, by the way."
Holland Manners chewed on a croissant and nodded. "The file made me think of Ophelia."
"I thought that as well."
"Great minds think alike." He winked. "Please--continue."
She took a bit herself, giving herself a moment to choose her words. "But I also get the impression she needs direction, that some part of her actually seeks it out. A mind like hers can hardly plan a shopping trip much less any kind of long-term plan..."
"Don't underestimate the power of intuition, Lilah. Still, your point is well taken."
"The best approach it seems to me is to offer that kind of direction, to help her in the goals she herself sets. And, when need be, help her set those goals."
"As if for a child."
"Well, an experienced and very dangerous child, but--more or less. Right now her most precise goal is revenge against the Slayer Faith for her destruction of Spike."
"Her love, yes." He nodded. "I'm more and more convinced we made the right choice in assigning you to this part of the project. So I shall report to the Senior Partners." Now he took a sip of coffee, carefully wiping his mouth when done. "Since you'll be continuing, there are certain aspects of the matter you'll be needing some briefing on. Indeed, the whole matter of the Slayer has just been upgraded."
"I...look forward to that, sir."
"Excellent. You'll be working more closely with Lindsay McDonald as a result. That's no problem I trust?"
"Not at all." Oh great. As if playing mommy to a psycopathic demon wasn't enough of a burden. "I look forward to it."
Holland leaned forward. "You'll need to pull the file on The Vampire With A Soul. Several prophecies and other sources speak of this figure, but that his or her role in upcoming events is somewhat ambiguous. Naturally, we want to shape that role. Until relatively recently, the identity of this specific vampire was pretty much known, or at least assumed. Have you ever heard of Angelus?"
"He was the vampire who made Drusilla."
"Precisely. Several decades later he fed upon a member of a rather high-powered Gypsy tribe, high-powered in terms of magical ability anyway. They enacted a subtle revenge. In order that he might suffer for all time, these gypsies cursed Angelus with the return of his soul--so that he might be tormented with guilt forever."
"I take it Angelus is en route to Los Angeles? Or is he already here?"
"That's what's so intriguing. Angelus was destroyed a few years back. Before, I might add, any of the events he was supposed to have shaped. Frankly, that threw even the Senior Partners. No less than seven of our top translators and psychics were summoned to the home office to explain their failure. Of course," he added unnecessarily, "they did not return. Not whole, anyway. Last year, however, Lindsay managed to discover an important clue vis-a-vis the prophecy."
"What did Lindsay" the smug lowlife backstabber "find out?"
In response, Holland took out a grainy photograph from a file to the side. He handed it to Lilah, who saw it was of a blonde young woman with an eyepatch. "Her name is Tara McClay."
"Vampire?"
He nodded. "Relatively young. But created by the same vampire who made Darla, the Sire of Angelus himself. Tara was wooed to work for us about a year ago. She'd proven a very skilled individual in many ways, one of those rare nosferatu capable of thinking beyond the next meal. Tara turned out to be romantically obsessed with a human girl approximately her own age."
"Unusual."
"Very. Although not unprecedented."
"I take it this girl is now also a vampire?"
"That's what makes this so interesting. No, she's not. What's more, she and Tara have entered into a relationship akin to a marriage."
"She's a demon-worshipper?"
"Not generally, although the notion does present some intriguing possibilities. Thank you." Holland jotted down a note. "A quite skilled magic user in her own right, Willow Rosenberg--that's her name--is a human being, in love with and also loved by, the vampire Tara McClay. In other words, Tara is a vampire who has indeed got a soul. Just not her own."
It all fit. "That of her human lover."
Holland nodded. "Confirmed by several shamans using their most reliable forms of soothsaying. And these two arrived in Los Angeles last night. Both, it seems, are friends of Faith."
She couldn't help it. Lilah's eyebrows shot up. "A vampire and a Slayer are friends?"
"Miss Rosenberg is evidently quite remarkable in her own way."
"Must be."
"Now that they are here, certain counter-measures have been authorized. In fact, you'll need to free your schedule fairly soon to attend a ritual."
"What day?"
"Night, actually. And I'll send you a memo when its confirmed. Suffice to say, we are regarding these events as an opportunity. One that may benefit you very, very much. Providing you can continue to maintain a friendly relationship with Drusilla?"
"I'm sure I can, sir."
"That's what I like to hear." He glanced at his watch. "Oh. I'm due." Holland stood. "Please, finish your meal. And believe me--you have my full support. A shame all our undead clients can't be as cooperataive as the late Russell Winters, but look upon this as a way to stretch you wings. It'll be prepping you for flying higher and further as times goes by." With a final wipe of crumbs from his lips, Holland left the office.
Left Lilah pondering stakes that had just risen. Without warning. So what else was new. Vampire With A Soul. Interesting. Personally, she had trouble imagining anyone sane entering into a relationship with a demon who can't help but look upon you as food. After a few hours in Drusilla's company, she could sense the charisma, certainly. But didn't this Willow person have an sense of self-preservation?
On the other hand, so far, she hadn't been wrong. Evidently.
Interesting.
* * *
Faith simply did not sleep well. Drifting into gentle slumber was something she remembered from years past. Before puberty, before her looks had become an issue, before learning how different she was from others and then finding out she didn't know the half of it because she was the Chosen One, destined as the one girl in all the world to fight the demons and vampires.
But she hadn't been. The only one.
These nights she slumped into an unconciousness that recharged her batteries. Every few days or so she'd work herself into such a state specifically to get some rest. Combat worked wonders in that direction. Better than sex. Usually.
Like last night.
It should have worked. Beating the crap out of a Demon Biker Gang should have been exactly what the proverbial doctor ordered. Even with the intervention by Wesley and friends, it had still be a great fight. But here she was, nearly awake. No, fully awake. Damn. She blinked. Even the darkness wasn't complete enough to help her sink into lovely, temporary oblivion. A golden glow peaked out from the windows. With nothing to do but stare at the ceiling, listening to the urban sounds of Los Angeles.
Worse, she had dreamed. Faith hated her dreams, especially the delicious kind, and really loathed them when their memories failed to evaporate. Hope, she'd heard somewhere (a movie?), was a dangerous thing. Maybe. She thought of it as painful. Dreams of a blonde hair falling on perfect shoulders, of kisses she longed for and never had, of her own strength meeting/dancing with equal strength...
These hurt. Plenty.
Yet being wide awake, and troubled by half-remembered dreams, Faith had nothing to do save lie on her bed. Traffic wasn't too bad in this part of L.A. Neither was it invisible. With an effort of will, she could focus on those sounds and by listening, forget. Now would become everything. Empty yesterday--gone. Lonely tomorrow--the same.
It took her nearly five minutes to realize she wasn't hearing cars driving by or helicopters overhead. For one thing, these were closer. Much. In fact, they came from the front room.
Silently as she could manage Faith peeled the covers off her body and rose out of bed. Naked, she tip-toed across the room to the door of her front room. She waited at the door, on the balls of her feet. And listened.
Breathing. No, gasping--not in pain or exhaustion but pleasure. Plus moans.
Lots of moans.
Really a lot.
Wow.
Every sound hurt, but Faith wasn't slightly tempted to cover her ears. Scream, maybe. She did neither. Did this make her a pervert? No. A voyeur, maybe. But that's not a perversion. Not a real one. Real perverts were... She didn't let her mind go any further in that direction. Instead, she listened harder. Closing her eyes helped. It let her ignore everything except the sounds from behind the door.
The futon creaked in a steadily growing rhythm. And the little moans--in two different voices--matched that rhythm. Other sounds accompanied. In her mind's eye, Faith matched each one to an image. The tap of a foot against the hardwood floor, its fellow nudging against the side of the futon. Sheets pushed aside by slowly flailing arms. Was that a kiss? Yes. But where? Upon the lips? The throat? Nipple? The moan that kiss evidently earned set her imagination soaring. It began low, even guttural, but rose over an eternal few seconds to a higher pitch. Nor did it end for another several seconds.
Behind closed eyes, Faith imagined a bare muscled back in its entire length. She knew the next room was dark, and easily called to mind how shadows sharpened other senses. Her dreams came unbidden to mind--blonde hair waiting for the caress of her cheek, legs eager to twine with her own.
In unison, by coincidence or rhythm or something else, Faith bit her own lip just as a gasp rang out from behind the door. She bit harder. Her tongue gently sucked upon her own lip. In imagination, she both bit and was bitten. Sucked and was suckled upon. Abruptly--yet from a distance--she found her hands exploring herself in lieu of a real lover. Head against the door, she continued to listen. They didn't know it, but Red and Patch had a third partner, who moved in unison with their music--and for once simply let herself dream of blonde hair and kisses deep enough to draw blood.
Buffy?
* * *
"So, have a good breakfast with Holland?"
Lilah looked up from the files on her desk to the un-surprising but un-welcome face of Lindsay McDonald. He stood at her door and swept inside without permission. Oh, great.
Not that he wasn't good at his job. In fact, as far as getting a partner for any specific project the firm had in mind she couldn't think of anyone she'd rather have as backup. Or at least there wasn't anyone else she'd prefer--maybe that was a better way of putting it. What Lindsay's problem was that he tried to take control of things, and succeeded just often enough to keep her wary.
"An excellent one. Thank you."
He took a seat. "Heard he got called away."
"Vice Presidents are busy. And when the senior partners call..."
"Everybody runs--either towards or away," he finished. True enough. "Which way did you?"
She lifted an eyebrow fractionally. "I finished my breakfast."
"Gutsy of you," he said, nodding. He then gestured at the tiny mountain on her desk. "How up to speed are you on this whole Vampire-With-A-Soul thing?"
"Pretty straightforward so far."
"Except for what they're not telling us."
"There are always things they're not telling us."
"Like exactly what the plan is, for instance?"
"Or why they let you live after helping the Slayer ruin some of their other plans? Remember, one of the reasons I was called in was to help deal with your ex-girlfriend."
Lindsay shrugged. He still had a soft spot for the Slayer. "We still have hopes for her. The girl's got a dark side."
"Not dark enough. Still, she dumped you. At least she isn't too dumb." Lilah's phone rang. As she answered it, the temptation to fire off just one was too strong. "On the other hand, she dated you, so she can't be too bright either." Into the phone. "Lilah Morgan here."
The voice that answered was low, childlike and frightening. "I just got some news."
"Oh." Lilah tried very, very hard not to react. This was a client, after all. Besides, Lindsay was watching. "Do tell."
"Such a naughty Slayer. First my Spike. Then she went and killed my sister. All she wanted to do was have some fun at the shelter, and the Slayer killed her. Jimmy is terribly upset." There was a sing-song quality to the way she said all this. Lilah could easily picture Drusilla swaying back and forth while speaking.
"Jimmy?"
"My brother." Her voice changed, becoming that precisely certain thing that reminded Lilah of how prophets and oracles were supposed to sound. "With poor Elizabeth gone, he doesn't have anything to do but kill the girl." Lilah could swear she heard Drusilla smile. "I killed a Slayer once."
"What's Jimmy going to do, Drusilla?" With a look, she told Lindsay this was important. They'd almost certainly have to check with Holland Manners about precisely what should be done. "Drusilla?"
Drusilla's low chuckle echoed over the phone line. It was a sound that brought to mind all kinds of disturbing images. Torture chambers for children. Screams arranged as a symphony. Orgies of spiders creating new species in a cannibalistic frenzy. Vast puppet shows meticulously recreating the Holocaust for audiences of war orphans. Dull dentistry tools. Underage gynacologists. "Lost his heart, Jimmy did" whispered the vampire.
Click.
She waited nearly three whole seconds before putting the receiver down. At this point the cliche Something Has Happened came to mind, but that didn't really convey the magnitude of what she sensed. The insane beauty named Drusilla clearly thought here was a special circumstance. Jimmy was presumably James, another of Angellus' progeny according to the files. As for Drusilla's sister, Lilah recalled James had spent his entire undeath with a female vampire named Elizabeth. Nearly two centuries together. Impressive. More than one witness reported them as an utterly devoted pair. Like James and Drusilla, Elizabeth had been made by Angellus. Which made her identity nearly certain, If the Slayer had killed her, she would now be the focus of the survivor's berserk rage. Faith had proven herself good. Very good. Good enough to go up against an elder with nothing left to lose? What must that be like, Lilah wondered? To be so devoted to another that centuries together would be too short?
"Lilah?"
Damn. Lindsay. Still here. And keeping this a secret from him was something she just couldn't get away with, not when the call came through Wolfram and Hart's own system. Naive to even hope the call wasn't monitored.
"Has something happened?"
TO BE CONTINUED