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After several swallows, Faith looked at them as if they weren't insects.
"Morning," she said. Or, mumbled.
"Afternoon," Tara corrected her mildly. Willow winced.
With a snort, Faith swallowed more coffee. Willow was expecting a snarl, or at least a cutting remark of scalpel proportions. The words that actually followed were a surprise. "So what have you two been doing with yourselves?"
For one horrible micro-moment Willow feared Tara might tell her. "We only got up a little while ago ourselves."
"If I'd known you were..." Faith said suddenly, then stopped, "Well, if Wesley had warned me you were on your way, I'd've stocked up on blood."
"That's fine, I'm not hungry." Tara did not elaborate. Willow herself managed to quell the impulse to shift slightly in her seat. Experience told her the tiny wounds on the inside of her thigh would heal quickly. But meanwhile, they itched. Not at all an unpleasant reminder, all things considered. But private. Way private. About as private as private could be, especially given the fact it was all about...privates.
"I know some butchers who sell blood. A way to keep track of the local vamps, y'know. They seem a lot sneakier here in LA for some reason."
"Probably the Hellmouth," ventured Tara.
"Why? Does it do things to vampires?" asked Willow. Funny, she'd never really thought of it before. Now she didn't like where those thoughts headed.
"More like it attracts certain types. Just like demons--in a major city you're much more likely to come across demons who don't really want to bother anyone. Like the Host at Caritas?"
Nodding, Willow remembered. He did seem nice enough. And kinda...flamboyant.
"Faith?"
"Yeah, Patch?"
"Hey!" Willow didn't mind the nickname Faith bestowed on her--Red--because there wasn't anything really objectionable about it. She wasn't about to argue she didn't have red hair, for instance. But a constant reminder of an event that must have caused Tara loads of physical pain wasn't something she wanted coming out of anyone's mouth, even Faith's. She opened her mouth to object further when Tara's hand touched her own.
"That's okay, Willow. I don't mind."
"But...!"
"I didn't mind Little Miss Cyclops either."
Willow's jaw nearly dropped. She hadn't realized Tara even knew the Scoobies had used to call her that--that Willow herself had used that nom-de-guerre for the new vampire in town. Until she'd learned the girl's name.
"Anyway," Tara continued, turning to Faith, "I was wondering about Kate Lockley."
"Oh her," Faith said. "The amazing Issue Girl--able to irritate and get in the way with a single word."
"Faith," said Willow, "she knows about Tara."
Faith sighed. She took another swallow of coffee. "Kinda inevitable, Red. Last year her dad got seriously dead thanks to some vamps. She went all ballistic. I saved her, dusted the vamps who did it, but she's been throwing attitude at me ever since. Wes says its all about unresolved rage or displaced aggression, junk like that. Whatever. Anyway, she's gotten super-sensitive about anything smacking of the supernatural ever since. Been jonesing for a crusade or something."
"So why was she suspicious of Tara?"
"Because she's real, real, real pale for one thing. Hey, Patch--when was the last time you were in the sun?"
"About three years."
"So you've got slightly more tan than a white sheet. Believe me, that sets off alarms with Miss Kate. Then she probably tried to test you in some way, am I right??
Tara nodded. "Got a cross near enough for me to wince."
"Yeah, that's her m.o." Faith sighed. "Wes thinks maybe she figures I'm some kind of demon, too."
"Slayer strength?" Willow ventured.
"Yep." The phone rang. Faith picked up the receiver. "Hello?" The look on her face said Faith was less than happy at hearing the voice on the other ends. "What do you want?...Really?...And I should care because?...Okay, okay. Yeah, that's bad news, I guess. Yep, consider me warned. Thanks a bunch." Faith hung up with some finality.
"Anyone we know?" Tara asked.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. And it shouldn't be hard for you to remember him. I mean, how many guys have you actually dated?"
Willow blinked at this. Tara dating a guy? When Tara herself nodded, she got even more confused.
"Lindsay McDonald."
"Got it in one."
"Uh...guys?" Willow tried to keep her voice from whining. "Who's Lindsay McDonald?"
Vampire and Slayer looked at each other. Oh, Willow hated it when people shared secrets but not with her. Especially Tara. Not that she didn't keep secrets now and then, but she always had good reasons and why was the Love Of Her Life going off dating men anyway? And how come Faith knew about it?
"Remember last year when I saw you at Caritas?" Tara began.
"Uh-huh." Let her explain, Rosenberg, just hear her out. No doubt she has a good reason. There's probably a simple explanation. Has to be.
Better be.
"Well, Lindsay McDonald was my escort."
"And who is he?"
"One of the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart. Its a law firm that specializes in the supernatural, mostly of the really dark variety."
"Awhile back," added Faith, "every part-time wizard in town was getting hired to perform rituals of placating for dark powers. I finally tracked it down--turned out all the associates were under review by the senior partners at Wolfram and Hart, doing their best to come out of it alive. Later, I found out one of them gave up her first born."
"That sounds...icky. So what are these Senior Partners?"
"No one knows," answered Tara, "but they have plenty of demons working for them."
"Plus their clients include half the major corporations in the state," added Faith. "And most of the real bigwigs in organized crime."
"So," began Willow after a moment, "what were you doing with him?" She looked at Tara, who hesitated.
"It was part of a job interview."
Out of the corner of her eye, Willow saw Faith do exactly what she was thinking of doing--a take.
"Say what?"
Tara shrugged in a it-made-sense-at-the-time kinda way. "Remember that was right after the Apostate died. I was looking for something to do. Being the favorite of a demon-loathing elder waging a war on hell did have at least one advantage--focus. Without him, I went looking for work."
"Away from Sunnydale." The implications of that began to sink in. Painfully.
"Yes." Tara said it quietly, looking directly at Willow as she did it. "Away from you. Because for all practical purposes you were confusion incarnate. I'm a vampire. You're human. And friend to not one but both Slayers. I thought...well, maybe working for Wolfram and Hart would give me that focus again."
Silence lay in the room for a time. It was Faith who broke it. "So what happened?"
"I sang a song. And the Host told me my destiny." Her hand found Willow's, who tried not to grin like an idiot. And failed.
Faith stood up. "Okay, Lindsay said the vamp I wacked last night has a boyfriend. And he's jonesin' for some payback."
* * *
Lilah Morgan swallowed the dregs of her fifth cup of coffee. The coffee pot was large, surrounded by now with over a dozen used cups. When fresh, the brewed liquid inside had been strong enough to snap a hibernating bear into consciousness. Now, hours and hours later, it might qualify as battery acid.
She could feel herself on edge, but with too little sleep something had to be done. Leaning against the wall, she took in the scene of the conference room which had been given over to her. A variety of odd (some very odd) people were pouring over a variety of scrolls, books, journals and at least one pile of thin bronze tablets.
These occult scholars needed to be watched. Left to themselves, nine out of ten would dive into some esoteric piece of mystic fine print that offered the hope of solving some personal obsession. Johnson, for example, wanted to turn his mother back into a human being. To Lilah, this made Johnson not only irritating but also pathetic. She'd never been close to her own mother, so that part of it wasn't really applicable. Her father, on the other hand--or Aunt Ceelee. Alright, imagine one of them had gone trying to steal jewels from a gorgon's cave (Dad? No. Ceelee? Possibly--but they'd have to be damn fine jewels) and gotten petrified for their trouble. Would Lilah have been upset. Sure! Enough to try and find some kind of cure? Probably. But after the first couple of decades Lilah felt sure she'd've learned to cope. Johnson's thirty year quest merely confirmed him as an epic momma's boy in her opinion.
A momma's boy who had to be watched like a hawk.
Diane Vickers wasn't much better, with her efforts to finally translate some scroll supposedly written in Vl'hrg on the hide of a unicorn. Right. Or Rocelli's endless re-calculations about the birthing cycle of cthonians.
What a bunch of losers.
But--expert losers.
Holland Manners breezed into the conference room, smiling his we're-all-one-team smile. "Lilah? Any news on the Congressman's nephew?"
"A few solid leads, sir," she replied, acutely aware the lead was solitary and tentative to be really optimistic, "but nothing nailed. Not yet, anyway." She looked at Endicott as she said this, thinking about how he'd react to being the one nailed. Literally. Mildly telepathic, he blanched and bent further over the tome he was perusing.
"Good, good" murmured Holland. "Listen, what with this Vampire With A Soul business your workload has increased quite a bit. At least for now." He lowered his voice. "Tomorrow night is important, and not just for the firm and the project. I'm speaking of your career, Lilah. You realize our visitor offers some real opportunities?"
"Yes, I do know that, sir."
"And you're not one to shy away from such, I know." He grinned. No, smiled. A warm, comforting smile that seemed to ooze goodwill. Holland was nothing if not a master liar. "But for that you'll need to be at your best. Well-rested, for one thing. So the firm has arranged for a room in a nearby hotel. Not five star, sorry to say, but four is not something to dismiss." In his extended hand was a hotel room key. Lilah took it. Not that she had much choice.
"Thank you."
Reaching out, he touched her hand. "Just taking care of our assets."
Lilah watched Holland leave the room, sweeping out like a Vizier having just checked on the progress of his master's pyramid. Which wasn't too far from the truth. She tapped the key against her hand. Now what was the real reason for this largesse? The phone would be bugged, naturally. Would the room be secretly videotaped? Most likely. But why? Holland clearly was in on this, but try as she might Lilah couldn't figure out what the goal here might be. Of course, the possibility existed this was simply a ploy to increase her loyalty to the firm. No, that didn't feel right. Had she been a squeaky clean associate--but Lilah's hands by now were not only dirty they had blood on them. So what was the goal?
"M-m-miss Morgan?"
It was Johnson, all two hundred seventy five pounds of him. As usual, wearing clothes both shabby and too small. Why, if he was going to let himself go like that (which was his business, after all), couldn't he buy clothes that fit?
"Yes?"
"I think perhaps we might have possibly found something."
* * *
Faith hardly had to touch Merle before he squealed. Literally. Somehow that seemed right, coming out of a scaly green man with red eyes wearing a luoa shirt. God knew, with that outfit, he deserved whatever she dished out.
"Okay, okay, I'll talk!"
"Then talk!"
"I am!" He looked around him. Behind Faith stood Red and Tara, offering support but mostly just letting her intimidate Merle into spilling whatever he knew. His lair--if you could call it that--hadn't been hard to find. Not that he really tried to hide it. A grungy studio apartment near Hollywood might not be the usual haunt for demons, but for a demonic stool pigeon it somehow seemed right. The tacky decor fit, somehow (although the inguana head scotch-taped to the body of centerfold was a detail Faith refused to contemplate).
"Word on street is somebody's organizing all the bloodsuckers in town. No offence." This last was aimed at Tara, who shrugged. "Details are not what you'd call common, but some folks noticed the vampire population over in Santa Monica has been on the increase...OW!" Faith slammed him up against the wall again.
"Nobody give a crap about that!" She hit him a few more times for emphasis. "James! Vampire! Blond girlfriend got gacked last night?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah--I heard something about him. Oh, man. If what I heard about him is right, you are in one mess of trouble."
Faith snorted. "So what else is new?"
Merle nodded. "There's this, see" he said, "a slod demon. Into collecting body parts."
Faith could almost hear Red cringe. "Go on."
"But there's one thing he's got a hard time collecting. Vampire hearts. 'Cause the only way he can get them is if the vampire in question agrees to let him take it."
"My guess--that doesn't happen too much."
"You'd be surprised! The way the doc does it, see, the vampire becomes pretty much indestructible as a result. Not that its permanent, of course, 'cause after a while the vamp gets a serious case of real death, but for a little while there..." He shrugged.
Tara spoke up. "How long?"
"Hours, I think. Don't know how many."
Faith leaned in. Merle leaned back, hit his head against the bare brick wall, but still managed to back up some more. "And what's all this got to do with this James guy?"
"Word is, he went looking for the Doc last night. Right after his lady vampire went all poof-like."
Several seconds passed, while Faith took in what he'd said. Great, she thought, not only is another vampire pissed at me, he maybe went and made himself super-vamp. Doesn't my life just keep getting better?
"Where do you think he'd go?" Red asked this low, but in the silence it might as well have been a shout.
"The shelter?" Tara glanced at Faith, asking.
Faith nodded.
Ten minutes later, Faith was driving and trying to seem cheerful "Here we go!" It took effort, but she did it. Privately, she thought heading over the shelter this long before sundown was probably overkill. Hell, it could've been worse than that for Tara, but she was prepared. Her long green coat had a very full hood, with matching gloves reaching nearly to her elbow. Red hovered nearby with an umbrella. Just in case. Not a bad idea. Even though the windows on Faith's car were tinted.
Today was fairly cloudy for LA, though.
"Do you spend a lot of time at homeless shelters?" Red asked. God knew why.
"Now and then."
"Or is this East Hills Teen Center somewhere special?"
Faith paused. She waited. Then shot a look at Red. She waited again before saying anything. "You trying to suggest something?"
"I..." she didn't quite stammer, but the basic impulse was there. Red even squirmed a little. "Not anything specific or anything I just thought maybe this was one of your sources for demony activity and stuff."
Good to know she still had it.
"Yeah, sometimes." Might as well make nice. "Turns out the chick who runs the place knows about vampires and stuff. No surprise, there--she's from Sunnydale."
"Really? What's her name?"
"Anne Steele."
"Don't think I know her."
"Said something once about changing it, though."
"Oh."
"Guess you won't know if you know her 'till you actually see her."
"Yeah, that makes sense."
Another pause. Timing was everything. "Unless she's dyed her hair." Wait for it. "Or had plastic surgery." She could almost hear Willow's eyes grow huge.
"I take it," said Tara suddenly, "you want to be waiting for James when he shows up?"
"Yep. Even if he can take daylight, its gotta be weird for him. Great thing about fighting vamps--there's this really big home court advantage half the time. You know?"
"As a matter of fact."
Damn. "Guess you do." Okay. How to sidestep this foot-in-mouth moment?
Just then, they came within sight of the shelter. Faith felt tempted to take credit for this bit of timing, but knew this was actually something called dumb luck. Still, she was glad of it. The alley to the side was narrow, the buildings on each side high enough to provide shade. Even with hooded coat and gloves, best to take no chances. Tara slid out of the car carefully, with Willow hovering. Faith watched them for a moment before leading the way inside. But they had to cross through sunlight to do it.
"You good, Patch?"
"So far, so good."
They walked swiftly around the corner, a few yards down the street, then up the steps the doors of the center. Faith knocked. Hard. She waited. Not patiently.
A woman with short, russet hair opened the door. Jeans. T-shirt. Leather jacket that looked like it had been through a couple of wars. She looked tough. Maybe twenty. Tougher than most. And her eyes beamed suspicion like laser beams. Especially behind, at Tara.
"Got business here?" Oh gimme a break. The guardian at the frelling gate.
"Yeah. I'm Faith. Where's Anne?"
"Around. What is it?" She was looking at the hooded Tara, then back at Faith. "Your business?"
"Saving your ass, Captain Attitude. If a certain somebody was telling the truth."
"Really." She wasn't moving. And she had the relaxed tension fighters have, the one that says come and try me. Faith almost didn't mind. Yeah, this would be a good way to relax--especially after last night. Nothing like some good, blood-pumping violence to clear the system.
"Patch? Red?"
"Uh...Faith? Do you really think this is that good an idea..."
"Back up."
"...okay backing now."
Good girl. She backed up. No reason to get anybody caught up in this. She shifted her stance a little. And Captain Attitude did the same. Yep, she knew what she was doing. Some, anyway. Probably thought she knew everything. Time for some lesson-giving.
"JUSTINE!"
From inside the center she came. Tall, walking with as much purpose as anyone she knew. Justine (presumably Captain Attitude's real name) relaxed. Slightly. Anne came up behind her. "Faith is a friend. She's the one I told you about." She managed to make every word an order.
"She's not alone."
"Her friends are our friends."
Justine didn't move. "Look at that one," she said, looking at hooded Tara.
Anne didn't hesitate. Eyes meeting Faith, then Willow, she said "Come on in. All of you."
Faith took a step forward, still kinda hoping Justine wouldn't back down. At the last moment she did, taking a step to the side and allowing all three inside. Did that make her smarter, or weaker? Both? Faith wasn't sure. Still, looking gift horses in the mouth and all that. Anne watched Justine until all three of them were inside. Then, the door shut. Around them was the low-ceiling hallway of a building that never made up its mind whether to be a storefront or an office. Now it was a homeless shelter.
Tara slipped off her hood. She was staring at Justine.
"Faith, this is Justine. She just showed up today. From what she says, you two have a lot in common." Anne's authority was pretty much total here in the center. It showed.
"Yeah, right," muttered the young woman.
"Julia?" Tara said it, and Justine's head snapped in her direction.
"What did you say?" Her eyes nearly glowed. Or burned. "That was my sister's name. My twin sister."
Not a good sign. Three guesses why the sister was a past tense.
"She was killed. Drained of all her blood." Justine almost snarled, her eyes fixed on Tara.
"My condolences." Tara didn't move. "She seemed nice."
"Both of you" said Anne quietly, "hunt vampires."
"I don't hunt vampires," Justine corrected her. "I kill them." Eyes still on Tara. Damn.
"Really?" Willow smiled, trying no doubt to play peacemaker. Good luck. "Tara and I have a lots of experience when it comes to hunting demons of all varieties!"
Justine barely glanced at her.
"Speaking of vamps," Faith interrupted, "that's what we're here about. Remember the blonde from last night? Seems she had a boyfriend. And he is pissed."
Anne turned to Faith. "You think he'll come here?"
"Its a good working hypothesis," chirped in Willow. "Cause this is a place where he knows Faith was at least once, and pretty recently too. So we figured he'd likely come here just to find stuff out if nothing else."
"There's another possible problem," said Tara.
Something about the way she said it got everyone's attention. "If this guy really was in love, he might not care about going on. Should he be in that state, there exists a way for any vampire to become invulnerable."
"No way," said Justine. "Hey, if there were a bunch of super-vamps running around, we'd all know about it. Believe me, all the vampires in this burg are vulnerable. All of them."
But Tara shook her head. "The effect is temporary. Once it wears off--after a few hours--the vampire dies. For good. But this man, if he loved her the way he's supposed to, then he might feel like dying anyway..." She let her words trail off into silence. Her implication was plain enough for Faith to see. Yeah, without someone you loved, why not just die?
Why not?
"Still isn't anything to worry about," said Justine after a few seconds. "Vampires don't love. They can't."
That's when a growling, snarling something tore the hinges off the front door. And roared. Oh yeah, and entered the place without an invitation, vampiric eyes all aglow and fangs bared.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
TO BE CONTINUED