Hear No Evil

Hi, y'all. I have heard your pleas--and I love you muchly for your feedback--and yes, there will be a sequel to Ski Trip.

This isn't it.

Title: Hear No Evil, very much WIP
Summary: Faith doesn't follow the rules. Weirdness results. Who will save her?
Timeline: Earshot
Rating: PG for now, but NC-17 eventually. You've got to sneak up on these things, I think.
Disclaimer: Dude with the creative genius and the bad cancellation-karma? Yeah. He owns 'em. Me, not so much.
Author's Notes: This is a first draft; I might edit later.

Chapter One

Faith wasn't following the rules.

The Boss had laid it down, plain as day--no unauthorized slaying. If her little friends wanted Buffy Summers to be the 'real' slayer, then they could let her do all the work--the better to keep her occupied, off-balance, distracted, and tired.

"Besides," he'd said, the little smile lines around his eyes crinkling up in that menacing, happy way they had, "one wrong move and you might be staking a personal friend of mine. And that just wouldn't do, Faithy. People who kill my friends have a nasty habit of turning up as the sacrifices in some…" Here he'd paused, chuckled, and shook his head, as if remembering a fun day at the beach, "…some pretty torturous satanic rituals. We wouldn't want that, now, would we?"

No, she didn't want that, and she believed him, but…here she was, making her way through Shady Glens Cemetery, a stake in one hand and the kick-ass knife the Boss had given her tucked inside her jacket. It wasn't that she was stupid, or that she thought she wouldn't get caught--because the Boss knew everything, it seemed, whether you told him or not--it was just that she had to slay. It started out as an itch between her shoulderblades the instant the sun sank beneath the sea, and it kept growing until she was pacing the apartment, cracking her knuckles, hardly able to sit still long enough for a single game of Mortal Kombat.

Sometimes she fought it by going to the Bronze and dancing it out, or picking somebody up for a quick trip to the women's washroom or the back alley--any port in a storm. But more often than not the little Scoobies would be there, all comfy and smiling and making dumb jokes like it didn't matter for a minute that Faith wasn't on their side anymore. It was bad enough when Xander or Red were there, all stupidly oblivious, but whenever B arrived--smiling that I'm-a-princess smile, all bright and enthusiastic even though Faith had practically stolen Deadboy out from under her--still dancing and laughing and having a good time and fucking happy with her wonderful perfect good-girl life--

Well, sometimes she just had to slay.

When she'd patrolled with B she'd walked through the cemeteries like she owned the whole fucking world, and everyone should just wise up and deed it over to her. She mostly let B lead the way, but she never let any of the undead forget for a moment that a Slayer was passing by. The morons came out in droves to have a chance at them, and she'd take her time, beat on them as much as she wanted, taking them down with big sweeping moves.

Alone, she fought more like B--close in, quick jabs and quicker kills--except that she never talked to them. Oh, she was having as much fun as always, but she had no need to quip to her victims before she dusted 'em. All she needed was the savage joy of plunging a stake home in that sweet spot between their ribs. That, and a pass by the darker bars afterwards, where they looked her leathers up and down and never asked for ID.

So maybe she was still helping B. Still fighting the good fight. Taking out more than her share of vamps every night. Not that B would care if she knew. After you hold a knife to someone's throat, and feel theirs next to yours, you stop caring about the small things. Help? she'd ask, looking like she'd just found something foul on the bottom of her shoe. You're only doing it to get yourself off. I'm doing it as some sacred bullshit Slayerly duty.

"Yeah, well, fuck you," she whispered to the Buffy-voice in her head. She felt all tight and twitchy-scratchy, like there were demons nearby, and she slipped a hand into her jacket to feel the warm steel of the knife in her pocket. She shivered, a quick, compulsive spasm, and twisted around.

There were two white scaly wormy-looking demon things creeping through the bushes behind her. Faith grinned, slipped her stake into her pocket, and came out with the knife. Its razor edge glinted in the moonlight, and she tipped it back and forth, enjoying the way the demons paused and looked at each other, then at the shine of reflected light in her hand. Neither one had a mouth, but she figured they were talking in their own way--probably something about how two-to-one wasn't so fair when the one in question had a dagger and an eager smile.

They both turned and ran at the same instant, and Faith gave chase. They were quicker than they looked, but she caught up with the slower one by the kiddie park and yanked it backwards. It was even uglier close up, and had a stink to it, but it knew how to fight, and as far as Faith was concerned, that was the important thing.

It tried to grapple with her, but Faith knew better than to get close to something twice her size, and she swung a high kick that knocked it flat. She got in a flurry of short hard punches, and it came back with a wide swinging blow that caught her on the shoulder and numbed her arm. She nearly lost the knife, and quickly switched hands. It rushed her again, and she planted her boot in its stomach. It staggered back, and then, from behind, she felt the other one coming--too late. It tackled her, but she twisted underneath it and buried her knife to the haft in its side, digging through lungs and guts and whatever else demons had for insides. Its blood spurted over her hand, all silver and sort of glowy, but she didn't much care, because at least it was dead and the other one was running.

Faith thought about chasing it down and gave it up as a bad job. She kicked the dead one at her feet and rubbed her shoulder. There'd be a bruise for an hour or so, but she'd certainly had worse. The shiny goop of its blood had disappeared from her skin. Weird. She shoved the knife back in her pocket and idly scratched the back of her hand. The kill had left her feeling better, anyway, ready to eat a cheeseburger or four and to see who was left standing after last call at the Bronze...and whether they could still stand after she was finished with them.

Not likely.

And with any luck, she could tell the Boss she'd spent the night playing Atari and practicing her putting and he'd be too busy reading Marmaduke to ask her more.

*

Faith grabbed the latest X-Men comic off her pile of reading material and cranked the volume on her CD player. She propped her feet up on the table and flipped to her place, leaning the chair onto its back l Sh She rubbed at the itch on her hand that had been there for the last day or so, and wondered if she should get some hand cream or something. But the comic grabbed her attention and she dismissed the idea. She'd just settled in to the story when there was a knock on the door.

"Come on in," she yelled over the music. "It's open." She figured if it was somebody complaining about the noise, she could just toss them out on their ass, and if B and them had somehow found her, she could do the same.

The Boss came in, tsk, tsking as he locked the deadbolt behind himself. He looked at Faith and shook his head. "That's not very safe, in a neighbourhood like this one," he said. "Who knows who might waltz right in?"

"I'm a Slayer," Faith said. "Not a problem, way I see it."

"You're a tough one, firecracker, but we don't need the world knowing that." The Boss walked over to the CD player and shut it off. "Now, I have some things to discuss with you." He frowned. "Hey. Faith. Feet off the table. That's not polite…or sanitary."

Faith shrugged and slammed her feet to the floor. "Okay, Boss. What's up?"

The Boss took out a handkerchief and wiped the table where her boots had been, then tossed it into the garbage can. The world could do with more neatness and fewer slobs like her. Ah, well, to each tool its purpose…

"What?"

The Boss raised an eyebrow. "I haven't started yet."

"No, what you said just now--" Faith stared at him suspiciously. "Didn't you say--"

"Yes?" He looked at her patiently, but his voice continued somewhere just on the edge of hearing. I might miss my tee time if she takes long to understand some simple instructions. If that PTA dad plays through past me one more time I swear I will roast him like a chestnut. I wonder if they still roast chestnuts somewhere in this town?

Faith jumped to her feet. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Really, Faith! Language!" Stupid little girl. If I could use anyone else to kill the Slayer…then, I suppose, beggars would ride. He shook his head and smiled.

"You--you want me to--" Faith cut herself off. The Boss peered at her suspiciously, and she knew better than to feel comfortable with that curious, amused gaze focused on her. 'd s'd seen what happened to others who earned his interest like that. But what the hell was going on? How could she--was she hearing his thoughts?

"Nothing too important, really," he said, but he was staring
at her like she was suddenly all too interesting--like a vamp finding a puppy tied up in a cemetery. "Just a few little distractions for Buffy Summers." She won't kill her without a struggle yet. Really must do something about those pesky morals. If I have to act proud and paternal around her one more time I think I might be sick…I hope I have enough moist towelettes.

Faith took a step back, feeling like she'd been sucker-punched by B. He'd been faking all this time--he didn't give a shit about her. She didn't even know why she was surprised.

"Are you feeling all right, Firecracker?" His eyebrows drew together in a frown of concern, and Faith nodded.

"Fine. I'm--" Faith shook her head to clear out the extra voice swirling around inside, but it insisted on being heard.

If I have to kill this one, too, I don't know where I'll get someone to take her responsibilities, it said. It was soft, reflective, with just a little edge of cheerful good humour. Fuck, it sounded exactly like the Boss when he talked out loud. It can be so difficult finding appropriate candidates for these positions...and without Alan I'll have to interview them myself, I suppose.

"--fine." She didn't know what was going on and there was no way she could ask him. He'd kill her for sure if he knew she could hear what he was thinking. "You want me to distract B? Got something in mind? Maybe I could just knock her around a bit."

The Boss laughed. "Now that's my Faith." She's up to something. "But it's not very subtle, is it? After all, I think you'll agree Buffy and her vampire outplayed you last week, hmm?"

Faith scowled. She shifted from foot to foot, hating B for that psych-out, but hating the Boss more for what he'd been thinking. "I nearly took her out."

Good, she's still bothered by that. Such an easy one to manipulate. Well, as long as she follows instructions, I'll let her live… "And you can again, I'm sure. Now, Faith, I need you to find her weaknesses…what would hurt her the most. Removing Angel? Her mother, perhaps?" The Boss smiled gently. How far will she go? "Remember, these are just ideas. We don't want to be hasty."

"Yeah. Whatever." Faith kicked at the table leg. He thought she was soft, that she wouldn't do what he asked. If she wanted to keep her skin intact, she'd show him she could hurt B with the worst of them. "I could dust soulboy if you wanted."

Of course she's jealous. Poor, petty girl. Probably doesn't even know she's in love with the Slayer. "Well, it's something to keep in mind." The Boss took out another handkerchief and wiped his hands, then put it back. "For now I want you to watch her. No confrontations, now, you understand?"

"Yeah." Faith tried to grin, like she was excited, like she hated B and wanted to hurt her. Like she hadn't heard that about her loving B. Because she didn't. That was just stupid. Even the Boss could have some stupid thoughts now and then.

He smiled back at her. "That's my girl." I wonder if my new putter is ready?

"Right." Faith edged towards the door, trying to get him to leave. "No time like right now." He finally left, and his thoughts faded away as he went.

Faith grabbed her jacket and headed out. She needed to know what the hell was going on, and there was only one place she figured she could get help--Sunnydale High library, and the Scoobies.

That is, if they would even listen to her.