The Slayer

 

The Slayer

By Norwalker

Part 28 of a multipart story.

Summary: What if Faith came first? If she were the slayer before Buffy( if Buffy even became a slayer)? Just my take on what might have happened. AU, of course.

Pairings: Not sure yet. You might be surprised.

Rating: M( R )

Disclaimer: Characters depicted in this story, except for original characters created by the author, are the sole property of Mutant Enemy, Fox and Joss Whedon.

 

1

 

"Uuuhhhh…"

Buffy has given up the fiction of denying her lust. She watches through the keyhole, fascinated and stimulated by what's happening in the room.

Horny, wet from the scene before her, she has opened her jeans, slipping her hand over her wet, burning pussy. She can feel her clit, bullet like, standing out proud and quivering, pressing almost painfully against the lace of her panties. She's slipped her hands under her panties, rubbing her swollen labia and wet slit in slow, deliberate strokes. She pants, a moan slipping out of her. She doesn't care anymore if she's heard… her needs, her lust has too long been subverted and denied; her hormones take over.

Oh god, what is she doing to her? Buffy's lust fogged mind thinks as her own fingers work over her heated core. She watches as Faith lays stroke after stroke on Cordelia's soft skin, and she can feel each across her own body. In some perverse way this only makes it hotter for her, as her thumb seems to press against her clit on each lash. Each of Cordelia's moans brings an answering whimper from Buffy, as she slips two fingers into her overheated, wet slit.

Leaning heavily against the door, she frees up her other hand. She almost rips the buttons of her blouse off, needing to touch her swollen, aching nipples. Pulling down the cup, she frees her breast and starts to stroke her fingers over the bumpy areola. Another groan slips out from her as electrical fire slams into her core.

Her face pressed to the door, she watches as Faith lays down the crop, and moves over to Cordelia. Somewhere her foggy, lust filled mind wonder what she's going to do next. She doesn't have long to wait as she sees Faith grab Cordelia  and force her fingers between her legs.

Oh …  fuck… that's… so … hot…  Buffy feels her own fingers start to pump in her pussy in time with Faith's.  Her fingers surround her hardened nipple, pulling and pinching it.  She squeeze, pinches and almost mauls her breast, the jolts sending fresh fire to her pussy.

Her fingers start to hump faster and faster as her need builds. The pressure builds inside her, and she can feel her muscles grabbing at her fingers, responding to impending orgasm.  She no longer knows or cares where she is. All she knows is she wants, no needs, to come. To come and come and…

"What are you DOING!!??"

 

 

2

 

 

"OW!"

"Shhh!"

"You stepped on my foot!" Xander whispers, grabbing his foot. "It hurts!"

"I'm sorry, but if you wouldn't keep running into me…"

"Well, it's dark in here… I can hardly see anything!" Xander leans against a wall, rubbing his foot.

A sudden flash of light bathes him in a yellowish glow, and he sees Willow approaching him. She kneels by him, loosening the laces on his tennis shoes.

"Let me see…"

"I’m ok…"

"Stop being a baby and let me see…" Holding the penlight in her mouth, she loosens the laces and exposes his foot. She grabs it, and begins to rub it.

Xander sighs, secretly enjoying the touching and attention. It's almost worth having Willow's heel go through his foot for the way her touch feels . Almost.

"There, better?" Willow mumbles around the penlight in her mouth.

"Huh?" Xander can't quite make out what she said.

"Better?" She says louder and slower.

"I guess," Xander pouts, trying to milk the situation. He's fooling no one.

"You big baby, it's not that bad," Willow judges. She stops rubbing, and reaches for his shoe, giving it to him. "Here, put this on. We gotta get going."

She starts down the tunnel, Xander following after, slipping on his shoe while trying to follow hopping on one foot.

"Going," Xander says. "Where exactly are we going, anyway?"

"I told you," Willow says over her shoulder. "We're following Angel…"

"And why is that again, exactly?"

"Geeze, do you ever listen to me?" Willow complains. She stops and turns back towards him. "I told you, they're up to something. Something important, and they're so not telling us…"

"Maybe they'll tell us when they're ready to tell us, Will…" Seeing the look on her face, Xander realizes he said the exact wrong thing.

"And when will that be, Alexander Harris? Like, never? And why should they decide when to tell us stuff, anyway? I mean, aren't we part of this team? Why are we always being left out of the loop, huh?"

"How do you figure? I mean, like the dance. Didn't Angel come and get us when there was trouble?"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Xander. God, keep up, would you? What about the planning, and stuff? Why are we privy to that? Shouldn't we have some say in the decisions and stuff?"

"Will, look. If I say something, will you bite my head off?"

"Xander…" Willow gives him an impatient look. "When have I ever bitten your head off?"

Let me count the ways…

"Will, I know you're real smart and everything…"

"Well, so far, I can't see any reason to bite… ok, ok, go ahead…"

"… you're like the smartest person I know. Ever, ok?"

"Ok…" Willow is growing suspicious. "but…?"

"But, Will, they're like experts at this kinda stuff. I mean, ok, we're learning fast and all, but they've been doing it a lot longer than we have. So maybe, we don't really have that much to add…"

"Alexander Lavelle Harris!"

Oh, man… I so stepped into it this time…

"… I can't believe you just said that!" Willow glares at him, then, turning on her heel, starts down the tunnel without him.

"Will… Willow … wait up!" Xander calls out after her, rushing to catch up.

"How can you say such crap, Xander?" Willow doesn't slow down, doesn't look back. She just keeps moving along, expecting him to follow.

"I mean, yeah, ok, maybe they've been at it longer, but we've been HERE longer, you know? Who knows Sunnydale like we do? None of them, that's for sure! We've lived here all our lives. We know how things are supposed to be, you know? Think they know that? Of course they don't. If something's weird, or different, who's going to know it first? Do I even need to answer that? Well, I will. Us. Why? Because we've been here since we were kids. We know this town backwards and forwards. So, don't you think we should be included? I mean, it makes sense. We know stuff. We can do stuff. We've been training our butts off, every day, even though I hate gym. You hate gym. But we show up, we work out, we practice and stuff. So we should be right in the middle of it. Instead, they shove us to the side. Like we're nothing. Well, I'm not nothing, Alexander Lavelle Harris. I'm not going to be pushed aside because certain people who'll remain nameless but whose name rhymes with lathe thinks we shouldn't be included. I mean, what does she really know, anyway? Sure, the PtB or whatever gave her like superpowers, but did she ever take a test on it or anything? No, I'm betting not. But somehow, she gets to decide whether we should be kept in the loop, or whatever. Even though she decides to pick an airhead as a girlfriend. I mean, is that showing judgment?"

She pauses for Xander to reply. There is none.

"Well, Xander, are you going to say anything?" She stops, and turns around, shining her penlight down the tunnel behind her. " Xander? Hey,Xander? Where are you? Where'd you… UMMMPPHHH!"

She's cut off when a hand covers her mouth, and she's lifted off the ground. She struggles against her captor, but she can't break the grip. She's carried off down the tunnel.

In silence.

 

3

 

Faith brings the crop down across Cordelia's buttocks, cracking her wrist back to take most of the force out of the blow.

Cordelia shivers, the pain exquisite. She whimpers softly.

Faith repeats the blow, flicking the crop in the opposite direction. The lash lays criss-cross to the first one.

Cordelia presses her forehead against the bedpost, her lip trembling, her eyes watering. The pain of the lash is sharper, more cutting than Faith's hand against her bottom. That only makes it sweeter, more exciting. Her heart races in her chest, her breath catches in her throat. She feels feverish, her core burning hot and leaking copiously. She feels intensely alive.

Another blow, and then another and another hits her bottom and thighs. She cries out, in pain and lust. Needles of pain and pleasure rush through her. The pressure builds inside her, she needs release.

Faith flicks the crop back and forth across Cordelia's back, buttocks and thighs, each stroke light but stinging. She uses the crop like a painter's brush, creating a masterpiece on the human canvas before her.  Each stroke stokes the fires building inside her. Each cry fromCordelia ads fuel to the flames. The smell of Cordelia's excitement is heady to her, more intoxicating than any drug. All of her senses seem to be razor sharp, and narrowly focused on her lover's body.

She walks over to Cordelia in a slight haze, stopping behind her soft, trembling flesh. She grabs her hip, and without warning, plunges her fingers between Cordelia's thighs, pushing them roughly between Cordelia's puffy lips, plunging them deep inside her pussy.

Cordelia moans loudly, thrusting herself on Faith's fingers. Faith smiles, feeling the power of having absolute control over this woman. She pumps her fingers savagely in and out of Cordelia's slit, causing her to writhe in her bonds.

"Uhhhh… Yessss … god … yessss…" Cordelia grunts, doing her best to thrust back against Faith's finger. "Do it … baby … yeah… harder… HARDER… god… need it… so bad… uhhhh… ahhhh… yessss…."

Faith thrusts harder, adding two more fingers, causing Cordelia to moan as she feels herself being stretched.  She thrust harder against Faith, the pressure in her core building and deepening. She feels as if her guts are being twisted inside her, and her humping and grinding becomes frantic.

"Harder do it harder god hurt me do it harder make it hurt god do it do it DO IT!" Cordelia moans as her head whips back and forth, and her hips plunge up and down on Faith's hand. It was nasty and it hurt and she wants more and harder and faster and now she wants to, needs to come NOW!

And just as suddenly, Faith pulls her fingers away.

Cordelia almost bellows in frustration. Her need is so intense, she is so close, that the ache of Faith's missing fingers is too much to bear. She turns her head to look at Faith, who is staring at the bedroom door.

"Don't STOP! Why did you STOP!?!"

"Shhh… be quiet!" Faith puts up her hand.

"Dammit, I'm hurting here. Why're you doing this to me…?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Cordelia is panting, her nerves jangled. "I didn't hear anything…"

"Out there, in the hall… I thought I heard something…" She walks toward the door.

Heard something? She's hearing things! God, only crazy people hear things. Is she crazy? Oh yeah she is, leaving me like this!

"There's nothing out there," Cordelia whines, " God, we're alone here. Well, except for the servants, and they wouldn't be up here…" She shivers from need and the cool air in the room. "Stop acting nuts…"

"I'm not nuts! I know I heard something!" Faith walks over, and flings open the door.

The hallway is empty.

She frowns, wrinkling her forehead. She puts her head out, looking left and right.  Nothing.

Faith pulls back, looking puzzled. She turns around, looking at Cordelia.

"Well?" Cordelia, still cuffed to the bedpost, looks miffed.

"I swear, I heard something… voices and maybe moaning…"

"Oh for god's sake!" Cordelia cries out in frustration. "The only moaning you heard was me, Faith. God, I'm so …." She trails off, petulantly.

"I heard something! I know I did!" Faith says defensively.

"What's wrong with you? You've been acting all weird and on edge ever since we came up here…"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe it's coming to see your girlfriend and getting a fist in the face? Or tied up and threatened with being put in jail? I guess that I just didn't understand how hospitality works around here…" Faith's voice is definitely edgy.

"Well, they said they found you wandering around acting crazy and…"

Faith stares at Cordelia, feeling a chill deep inside. Acting? God, after that little chat with her dad, I'm surprised I'm not climbing the walls here. Ok, this is just too much. Maybe…

"Maybe I should just go…" She comes over to Cordelia, making as if to unlock the handcuffs.

Oh, nice one, Cor. Real nice. She's leaving, you moron! Do something!

"Faith…baby…" Cordelia's voice gets soft, and sultry. "I’m sorry. I just… well, you got me all excited, then suddenly stop and I'm tied up here and I got all itchy…" She wiggles her major asset enticingly. "I'm a very bad, girl, and I think I need to be punished some more…" She pouts her bottom lip. Again, her she wiggles enticingly.

Faith has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. God, what a little slut… She smells Cordelia's arousal, and shakes her head. She feels her own need returning.  Yeah, and I just love her being the slut. I'm so fucking weak…

She bends over, picking up the riding crop she dropped on the floor. She straightens up, swishing it through the air.

"Maybe you do…" She smiles wickedly, getting an idea. She turns the crop over, revealing the handle. "Maybe we should introduce you to this end of it…" her gaze travels back to Cordelia's round, firm ass.

Cordelia's eyes follow Faith's gaze, and they go round. "You wouldn't… would you?"

Oh, please, do, do it … Cordelia feels her thighs get wetter.

Faith just smiles and kicks the door closed behind her.

 

4

 

 

In the room next door, Buffy sits on her bed, head down. Her clothes are still in disarray, and a blush is fully bloomed from head to toe. She's too embarrassed to look at the person standing next to her.

"My god, Buffy, what's wrong with you?"

"I… I'm sorry, mom…"

"I didn't raise you to be like that… what were you thinking?" Joyce Summers paces away, looking upset and angry. "Didn't I teach you about privacy?" She shudders, her expression disgusted.

"I… I heard something. I thought maybe someone was in trouble, so I…"

"You peeped through the keyhole, like some… pervert…" She turns and glares at her daughter. "Look at you… I caught you in the hall…like that…doing that… to yourself…" She gives her daughter a once over, shaking her head. "Are you going to sit there like that all day?"

"Sorry…" Buffy starts to straighten up, buttoning her clothing.

"Oh for god sakes, Buffy. Don't wear those … it's filthy with your… just change your clothes. Are you stupid, too?"

Buffy looks up at her mother through her mussed hair, and her fingers stop moving. Something's off. Something's not right here. She never talks like that…

"Well, go on, hurry up. Get those filthy rags off, you sick-o!"

Something's very wrong. She starts to try to cover herself up.

"What're you doing, you little slut? I told you to take off those clothes. Now, do it!" She walks over, and slaps Buffy across the face.

"Mom?!" Buffy covers her face with her hand.

" Mom!" Joyce mocks her whining voice. "You little sick shit. I should've hit you years ago. Maybe you wouldn't be a perverted little slut if I had…" She reaches out, tearing at Buffy's clothing. "Quit defying me, you little whore! Take those disgusting clothes off!" She tears Buffy's blouse.

Buffy pushes her, trying to wriggle away.

"Leave me alone!" She manages to get up, moving away from Joyce. "What's wrong with you? Why're you doing this to me?"

"What's wrong with me?" Joyce yells at her, rushing after her and pushing her against her door. "You nasty little slut. I caught you in the hallway, fingering your wet cunt while watching that slut Cordelia and her tramp girlfriend fucking each other…" She presses her body against Buffy's. "Did you like it, you little whore? Did it make you wet…" She jams her knee between Buffy's thighs. "Maybe that's what you want? Do you want your mommy to fuck you?" She starts rubbing her knee against Buffy's crotch as she pushes her mouth against Buffy's.

Buffy, revolted, makes a gagging sound. She pushes Joyce away from her, and turning, tries to open the door.

It's locked.

She hears an insane laughter behind her, and turns to see Joyce, face contorted, sneering at her.

"What's wrong, Buffy? Going somewhere? Don't you want mommy to lick your sweet little cunt?"

Buffy, scared, backs against the door, still trying vainly to open the door.

"Who are you? You're not my mother!" Buffy gags, as Joyce starts to rip off her own clothes.

A hand shoots out, just missing her head, hitting the door with some force. She ducks away.

"How would you know? You were always so busy with your own life, you never had time to know who I was, did you? So self involved, fucking half the football team, and spreading your legs for that loser, Billy Fordham!" Joyce presses herself against Buffy, forcing her hand between her legs. "Maybe I decided I want some of that sweet pussy of yours…" She tries to force her hand inside Buffy pants.

Buffy head butts her, then brings up her knee, slamming it into her stomach.  Joyce exhales her breath in a whoosh, and staggers back, gripping her stomach.

"You… ungrateful … bitch…" Joyce wheezes, holding her stomach, trying to recover her breath. "Why… should… that surprise… me?" She straightens up, glaring at her daughter. "I mean… did you ever care that I spent 37 hours in labor with you… you little …"

Buffy, enraged, throws herself on Joyce, knocking her onto the floor.

"Oh… you want to be on top… why didn't you just say so?" Joyce snickers at her. And then, she begins to change…

Buffy's eyes go wide as her mother's face seems to liquefy before her. More, she can feel the body beneath her shaking , bones popping and quivering in change. Before her  stunned eyes, her mother melts away, replaced by Billy Fordham.

A very dead, pale, and rotting, Billy Fordham.

"You slut!" the thing under her roars, breaking its arms free and bringing its hands to her neck, choking her. "You're supposed to be looking for my killer, and you're here, being a some kind of perv, playing with your cunt…" His fingers dig into her neck. "Why aren't you looking for the monster that killed me?"

"Billy… choking me… can't breathe…" Buffy's face starts to turn bright red as she brings her hands around, trying to pull Billy's hands from her neck. "Stop… please…"

Suddenly, she's flying through the room, hitting against her dresser, and sliding down the face of it, stunned. The thing that looks like Billy's corpse gets to its feet, shambling over to her. It stands over her, staring down at her.

"You never were much of a girlfriend, Summers. I mean, here you are the slayer, and you can't even protect me from one lousy vampire. And, hate to burst your bubble? But not all that great in bed, either…"

Buffy stares up at him, in shock. She almost gags, however, when something forces its way out of his nose. A death beetle, big and black.

Billy casually plucks the beetle off his face, and eats it like a snack.

Buffy feels the gorge rise in her throat.

"You never were much good at sucking cock, you know. I've had better…especially since I've been dead…" He grins, half of his cheek giving way to expose his jaw and teeth. "But considering, maybe you wanted pussy instead of cock, anyway." He reaches down, playing with the zipper on his ragged pants. "Wanna find out?"

"No, nooo, nooooo! You're dead, go away… please, leave me alone" Buffy whimpers, her mind starting to crack.

"There, there. You weren't that terrible. No need to cry… I know you're looking for the thing that killed me…" Billy reaches out, patting her head with his half rotted hand. "Maybe you just needed…"

Buffy suddenly is lifted off the floor, and looks down on a tall, dark and very pale man.

"… some help. Think that's your problem? Just need that little extra push?"

She recognizes him from the pictures she's seen. She feels the fear slam into her like a truck, right next to the fiery rage building in her stomach.

"Angelus!" She hisses, bringing her feet up to kick him.

He falls back, dropping her in the process. She lands hard on her butt.

Angelus recovers, standing across the room from her. He laughs at her, shaking his head.

"Very good, Blondie. Right on the first guess!" He advances on her, pulling a wicked looking knife from his belt. "I'm guessing that all blondes aren't genetically as dumb as they're made out to be. Whattya say I cut you open and find out?"

Buffy, still confused, scared and angry at the same time, backs away, trying to find her feet. She slams hard into the dresser behind her.

Looking around, she sees no way out. She's trapped in the corner, and Angelus is standing in front of her, vamped out and waving a knife.

"Aw, c'mon, babe. Don't be that way! I'm gonna kill you before I gut you…" He lunges at her.

Buffy screams.

 

5

 

"What the hell…?"

There's a loud scream, and some yelling.

 Faith jerks up her head from between Cordy's legs, her face coated in Cordelia's honey. Pushing herself off the bed, she looks at the wall.

"Ok, tell me I imagined that one…" She wipes her arm across her face.

"No," Cordelia says, somewhat peevishly. "I heard it too. It came from Buffy's room."

"Oh, sweet," Faith says, somewhat sarcastically. "Does she do that a lot?"

"No, actually, she's usually quiet…" Faith says, "Too quiet. Like no music or anything…"

"Crap," Faith jumps off the bed, looking around. "Where's my shirt. Did you see my shirt?" She starts looking around the room.

"Over there… what? Where are you going?" Cordelia sits up, looking pissed. "It's probably nothing. She's a total nut job. She's probably doing Primal Scream or something…"

The scream is repeated, followed by some crashing sounds.

"Something's wrong," Faith says, finding and pulling on her shirt. "Stay here." She heads for the door.

"Excuse me! Not happening. This is my house, Faith, and you're person non grata around here, remember? Give me a minute…"

"Don't gotta minute, and this aint a debate." Faith opens the door, " Stay here!" She slips out closing the door behind her.

Cordelia sits on the bed, fuming. Already frustrated twice tonight, this is getting ridiculous as far as she's concerned.

This isn’t fair! Why can't I go, too? I could help. God, she… wait a minute. This is MY house. Forget this!

Hopping off the bed, grabbing something to cover herself, she rushes to the door and out into the hallway.

 

6

 

Faith reaches Buffy's door. She tries the knob, and finds it open. She crashes in without knocking to find…

Buffy sitting on her bed, casually doing her nails. She looks up at Faith , irritated.

"Hey, ever hear of knocking, moron? I might be undressed or something…" She smirks, "Of course, you might like that, perv-o"

"What's going on in here?" Faith looks around. Nothing is out of place, nothing is broken. " We heard screaming…"

"I bet. So, Cordelia's a screamer, huh? Who knew?" Buffy holds out her hand, inspecting her nails. "What do you think? My color?"

"What's going on in here?" Cordelia makes an appearance, wrapped in a robe. She looks around. "We heard screaming."

"Yeah, me too," Buffy almost chortles. "You guys aren't real quiet you know…"

"No!" Cordelia flushes red. "We heard screaming coming from here…"

"Really? A perv, and delusional…" Buffy looks at the pair. "You guys aren’t doing drugs, are you?"

Faith feels her anger rising. "Listen, you little shit, there was screaming and crap coming from here. Now, I wanna know what the hell's going on…"

"Faith, never mind," Cordelia grabs Faith's arm. "Let's just go…"

"No, Cor," Faith shakes her off. She advances on Buffy. "This little bleach bottle bimbo's lying, and I wanna know what the hell's going on…"

"Or what?" Buffy stands up. "You gonna … what? Hit me? We know how that turned out last time…" She drops into a stance. "C'mon, babe, let's do it." She puts up her manicured fists.

"Stop it, both of you!" Cordelia comes around Faith, inserting herself between the pair. "Stop acting like children…"

"Oh that's rich, coming from you, Ms. Whiney pants," Buffy mocks her. "Get all teary because someone writes "DYKE" on your locker. Well, boo hoo…"

"How did you know that?" Cordelia narrows her eyes. "I didn't tell anyone about that…" It suddenly hits her like a ton of bricks. "You… you wrote that… you crummy little bitch!"

"Ooops…." Buffy snickers.

"I'm gonna kill you, you lousy…" Cordelia flings herself at Buffy, grabbing her hair.

"HEY! Get off me, you cow!" Buffy yells, falling back as Cordelia pulls her hair. "Knock it off before I…"

Faith intervenes, grabbing Cordelia and pulling her off Buffy, along with some of her hair. She pulls her back towards the doorway.

"You're right, lets just get outta here…"

"God, she ruined my hair!" Buffy yells, looking at herself in the mirror. "You stupid fat bitch. You totally ruined my hair…"

"Gee… why don't you take a rake to it, like you always do," Cordelia spits at her, from behind Faith. "didn't know trailer trash was a style!"

"Can't you keep your  bitch in line?" Buffy snarls at Faith. "Oooo Faith, hurt me some more, I like it… Oooo yeah…" Buffy imitates Cordelia. "God, you two are the sickest shits I ever… OOOOFFFF!!!"

Buffy goes flying when Faith, sick of her mouth, kicks out and hits her in the stomach. She lands on her bed. She almost immediately leaps back off, going after Faith.

"You crummy lesbo freak!" She launches herself at Faith, but Faith blocks her, knocking her to the ground. Buffy lays there, glaring at her.

"Get out! Get out you perverted lesbo sick-o's! Get the fuck outta my room. Get out, get out GET OUT!!!"

"Shut up, Weirdo!" Cordelia yells at her. "You don't live here! You're just a guest. If you keep fucking with me, I'll get my dad to kick you and your skanky mom outta here. Get it!!??"

"C'mon, Cor, let's just go…" Faith pushes Cordelia out of the room.

"Yeah, well, just try. Just try, you lezzie! And I'll tell your dad what a fucking freak you are. Go on, get out!" She slams the door after them.

She stands there for a moment, listening to them go down the hallway. Then she starts laughing.

She laughs harder and harder, and the laughter takes on an almost insane note. Still laughing, she collapses on the bed.

Idiots. Total idiots. They don't even know anything….

Buffy sits up, all laughter gone. She sits on her bed, frowning. Her eyes, normally hazel, flash red briefly.

I know what I gotta do now. It's all so very clear now…gonna kill Angelus, then his changeling bitch demon… and if you're not careful,Cordelia, I might just slit your throat for giggles…

She chuckles. It has a dry, humorless quality to it.

Ooops…

 

7

 

 

Oh, crap, I'm so dead!

Willow struggles against whoever's holding her, but her captor's arm is too strong, too powerful for her to wriggle free.

And cold. It's fucking cold… vampire… Willow moans to herself. Dammit, what's wrong with me? Why did I have to follow Angel, anyway? God, where is Angel? So dead, I'm so dead… and Xander… this … this monster probably killed him already! Oh man, I'll never see Xander again! He's dead, and it's my fault… all my fault… Xander, I'm so sorry. You were right. We never should've come down here. I'm sooo sorry, baby. Oh god, I hope he…I hope it was quick. I hope he didn't make you suffer, baby…

Oh god, what if… what if he turned Xander? What if he takes me , and makes me Xander's first meal? Oh god, this so isn't fair. Not FAIR! I hate this. I hate ALL OF THIS!

She's thrown roughly across a clear space, and she falls against something soft. Soft and warm.

She reaches out, and realizes it's a body. A male body.

"Oh, Xander…" She whispers, touching him tentatively. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't know. I didn't know this would happen. Forgive me, please, baby, forgive me…"

"I dunno,Will," Xander sits up, rubbing his head. "Not feeling all forgiving like right now. God, my head hurts…"

"Xander! XANDER!" Willow throws herself at him, nearly smothering him with kisses. "You're alive! Oh my god, you're alive!" She kisses him madly, and he starts to laugh. Suddenly, she stops, and leans back. "You're alive!" She declares again, and slaps him across the face.

"OW! HEY! What was THAT for?" Xander sits there, rubbing his cheek.

"You're alive, and you scared me, you… you… man you! God, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll…"

"You'll what?" A voice out of the darkness asks. "Exactly what'll you do?"

"Oh, god…" Willow blanches, realizing the vampire is there, in the shadows. "We're gonna die…"

"Shhh… Will, I'll protect you…" Xander stands up, getting between the voice and Willow. "Ok, dead boy, come out… c'mon, I'll take you on…"

A light suddenly flashes out of the darkness, blinding Xander and Willow both.

"Hey, no fair!" Xander protests, covering his eyes.

A figure steps out of the darkness, and it turns the light on itself.

"Angel?"

Angel stands there, smirking at the two of them.

"Well, here they are. Joe Hardy and Nancy Drew, intrepid Vampire hunters…." Angel lowers the light. "Exactly what do you two think you're doing, anyway?" He shakes his head and sighs. "A tip, guys. If you're going to follow a vampire, try not to make enough noise to wake the dead. We got that vampire hearing, remember?"

"Angel!" Willow stands up, brushing herself off. " You scared us…"

"Good, that was the idea…" He frowns, suddenly not looking too friendly. "Exactly why were you following me, anyway?"

"Uh… well… we…."

" We… ummm…we saw you come in here…" Willow says, "And we thought… maybe we could help…"

"So, you decided to follow me, skulking around like a couple of Clouseau's, making enough noise to alert any vampire and other demon in the area that someone's here? Thanks, I can do without that kind of help…"

"Hey, man, we're sorry, we just thought…"

"Well, I'm not sorry!" Willow speaks up, sounding slightly indignant. "We were trying to back you up. You might run into some trouble…"

"Well, you see, that's why I was actually trying to be quiet. I'm looking for something, and trying not to attract any unwanted attention…" He glares at the two of them.  Then he vamps out. "You know, especially of the fanged variety?"

Both blanch a little. But that doesn't really deter Willow.

"Oh, stop it! If everyone wasn't so secretive, we'd all be on the same page. We were just trying to help, but no one seems to want our help. Well, here's the 411, mister, so listen up! We're in just as much danger as everyone else around here, and we deserve to be kept in the loop. We've worked hard, training and everything, and we don't like being treated like children…"

"You two are children," Angel gently chides them.

"We so are NOT children!" Xander protests.

"Listen up! We saw our best friend turned into a vampire, and Xander here had to kill him. Think that was easy? Oh, and if you remember, we helped rescue you from Darla. And when you needed help when the Master attacked the school, who did you come to? Our lives are on the line here, just like everybody else. And we don't like being kept in the dark…" She looks around. "Literally or otherwise."

Angel has to fight hard to keep from chuckling. They don't even have a clue how dangerous this all is.. but I gotta admit, they're pretty gutsy. Kind of stupid, but gutsy…

"Look guys. We're not trying to keep you in the dark. We're just trying to protect you…" He holds up a hand to stop any protests. "But, I can see your point. You are risking your lives here, and you deserve some answers." He sighs, and sits on a outcropping of rock. "Look, I'm just doing a little reconnaissance … when I was trying to infiltrate the Master's group, I remember he read some prophecy from a large book.  I'm on my way to where he was trapped, hoping to find it. It might have some answers to exactly what we're facing here. But I'm trying to do it in stealth mode, because I don't want to attract the bad guys, get it? And, while I'm there, I'm gonna look around, see if I can find anything else that might be helpful."

"I appreciate you wanting to help, but frankly I'll work better alone on this one. But, trust me, there's a lot you can do to help out. There's a lot of research Giles needs done, and doesn't have time for…"

There's a groan from Xander's direction.

"I suppose that means reading a lot of old books full of thees and thous  and that kind of stuff…" Xander looks glum.

"Xander, he really needs the help…"

"C'mon Xander, it'll be fun," Willow says, feeling better about being needed. And not too sad about missing the fighting and killing. "And anyway…" She leans in, and whispers in his ear.

Xander listens to what she says, and brightens up considerably. "Really?" He looks at her.

"Really…" She smiles winningly.

"Ok, then, just call me research guy then…" He grins, thinking about what Willow promised will happen in the stacks.

Angel looks at the both of them, feeling relieved. He really didn't want to have to babysit them while looking around.

"Ok, then. So, you'll go back and see Giles?"

Willow suddenly gets suspicious. "You're not doing this just to get rid of us, are you?"

"No… promise. IF there's any fighting needing to be done, I'll call on you guys first."

"Well, yeah…" Xander says, puffing out his chest. "Cuz, we're like…" he blinks his eyes. "What are we again?"

"Slayerettes."

"Right…" He looks at Willow. "That sounds kind of… girly."

"And, there's something wrong with being a girl…?" She asks, arching a brow.

"Right, then. Slayerettes!"

Angel just rolls his eyes.

"All right then, I'll see you guys later." He starts off.

"Uhhh… Angel?"

"What?"

"Which way was out again?"

Angel sighs. God, I was evil for 150 years, I know. But why oh why do you keep punishing me…?

"C'mon, I'll get you guys out."

 

8

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Angel leads Xander and Willow through the door to the basement of City hall.

"Ok, just go up those stairs, and walk through the lobby. There's a small side door you can go through to get out."

"Wow, thanks Angel. We never would've found our way outta there…"

"Yeah, thanks…" Xander turns around, but Angel has already gone. "Well…rude much?"

"He was probably in a hurry, " Willow says, walking towards the stairs. "Anyway, let's get going…"

"Oh yeah, fun," Xander has had time to think about it, and weigh the options, and research is sounding less and less fun. "Maybe we should just skip it…"

"Aw, c'mon, Xander. Don't be a party poop. There'll be doughnuts…" She smiles, " Jelly filled doughnuts…"

"Mmmm…doughnuts…" Xander does his best Homer.

"Last one out buys…" Willow turns and runs up the stairs.

"Hey, no fair!"  Xander rushes after her. "You didn't say go!"

He disappears up the stairs after her.

A few moments later, the door leading to the tunnels below opens, and Angel slips into the cellar.

"Whew, gone," He mutters to himself, "good." He looks around the cellar to be sure he is alone.

The story he'd told Willow and Xander had been a fiction. He had not intention of rooting around in the dusty, moldy former headquarters of the now defunct "Master". He and Giles had come to realize that the Master was no more than a minor player in what was happening inSunnydale. They suspected that Cornell Chase, leading citizen, corporate magnate, and civic philanthropist, had a much larger role.

So he was off to break into his offices in City hall, hoping to find out exactly what he was using to control the town. They were both convinced that somehow, he was controlling the town, and it's citizens. They needed to know more about who or what Cornell was, and hopefully, find some way to counter him.

He really hated deceiving Xander and Willow. He understood their passion to be involved, to do something. He felt his own need to atone, to make up for his past … and he sympathized with their desire to be in the thick of it. But he also wanted, needed to protect them, and he couldn't have them bumbling about when he was breaking into Cornell's office. It was just too dangerous.

He makes it halfway across the floor of the cellar when he feels a pinprick on his chest. Stopping and looking down, he sees what appears to be a bloom on his jacket on the right breast pocket. As he looks, a few more blooms appear, spreading out across his chest.

"What…?"

That's all he gets out before he feels a sudden weakness. The room starts to swim about him, and his muscles feel as if they can't support his weight. His knees buckle, and he falls to the ground, laying prone.

He has the sensation of being underwater. The air around him seems to be thick and distorted, like looking up towards the surface while standing in a pool of water. He tries to move, to get up, but he discovers he can't move his arms or legs; they seem to be paralyzed.

Oh, crap. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Angel knows he's in danger.

"It's a pity, really," A voice comes out of the shadows. Doors in the cellar open, and a number of men, dressed head to toe in black, including ski masks, approach him.

Another figure emerges from the crowd. This one isn't wearing a ski mask, and his signature white blond hair is slicked back, punk style. He walks over and kneels beside Angel, looking down at him.

"Curare. Won't kill you, seeing you're already dead, but it does have the rather pleasant side effect of paralyzing your muscles. Well, pleasant for me, anyway."  He brushes a hand over Angel's face, and smiles. "Though really, I wanted to use Tazers. Nasty little buggers, those. Hit you with a big jolt of electricity. Would've loved to see you flopping around on the floor. But our host figured this would be more effective."

Angel stares at him through the haze of the drug. Spike!

Spike picks up Angel's arms, and holds it up for a minute. Then he releases it, and it drops limply back to the floor.

"Seems to have done it's job." He leans over Angel, smirking at him. "So, what were you skulking about down here, anyway? Not that I'm objecting; made my job easier, mate. Thanks, appreciate it. But, exactly what were you and those little bits up about, eh?" He looks at the stairs. " Too bad we let them go. They would've made a nice snack. But the … our host, didn't want them harmed… yet. He only wanted you. Now, don't you feel special, Angelus?"

Angel stares at him. Straining, using every bit of his will, he manages to move his lips, and whispers.

"Spike!"

"What? Hmmm… seems the curare hasn't completely taken effect yet. So, what is it, old chum?" Spike leans over. "Going to finally admit to what a poofster you are?"

Using every ounce of effort, Angel hawks and spits at Spike, hitting him straight in the face.

"Bleeding sodding hell!" Spike leans back, wiping Angel's spittle off his face. He stands up, staring down at the frozen vampire before him. "What'd you do that for, you stupid sod?"

His face hardens into a smirking mask. His eyes narrow.

"Well, really doesn't matter, does it you bloody ponce?" He walks around Angel, fuming. "You seem to forget, you're at my tender mercies…"

Without warning, he lashes out, kicking Angel savagely in the side.  He continues to kick him, lacing the blows with curses. He kicks his legs, crotch and finally adds a few to the head.

"Can't kill you, Mate. Not yet, anyway. Our host has some plans for you, yet. But that doesn't mean I have to play nice with you, either."

He takes one final shot, raising his boot and smashing it down on Angel's stomach.

"But you're not gonna survive this, you bloody freak. You abomination. A vampire with a soul. What a bleeding joke…"  He turns on the men standing around. "Well, don't just stand there you bloody burkes, tie him up!"

The men advance on Angel, taking thick hemp rope and tying him from head to foot.

"I always love delivering my gifts well wrapped."

 

9

 

 

Rupert Giles pours the tea into a cup, looking again at the clock on the wall. Just like he's done regularly for the last couple of hours. It's well past 10 o'clock.

Where are they? He carries the tea to the front room, sitting in his arm chair and staring at the front door. They should've reported in hours ago. Something's gone wrong… I just know it.

He brings the tea to his lips, blowing on it gently before sipping it.

I never should've sent her there. It was too dangerous. But what else could I do? We have to find out more about Chase before we can plan how to … what? Exactly what are we going to do against him? If he's half as powerful as I fear, he's going to be difficult to defeat. Maybe … impossible…

He closes his eyes for a moment, not wanting to dwell on that thought.

What if he caught her poking about? He might have her there, up in his mansion, right now. He could be torturing her. Or… He shakes his head. He doesn't even want to think that thought.

This is … I can't just sit here…  He suddenly rises, almost spilling the tea in the process. After setting it down, he starts towards the weapons cabinet. I have to go there, find out. Hopefully, I'll be able to…

He's interrupted by a knocking on the front door.

Thank god! At last!

He rushes to the door, and unceremoniously swings it open, expecting to see Faith.

Instead he's confronted by a burly, rotund man. He's shorter than Giles, wearing a dark suit and sporting a broad mustache. The man smiles.

"Rupert Giles?"

"Yes," Giles says, with some reserve. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I'm here to help you. May I come in?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm rather on my way out. If you could drop in at my office tomorrow at Sunnydale High school, I'd be happy to …" Giles stops, looking at the man. "Did you say, you're here to help me?"

"Well, actually, I have information for you. Information that's important to you… and your slayer…"

"Slayer?" Giles parrots, "I'm afraid I don't…"

"There's no time for secrecy, Mr. Giles. I know exactly who you are. You're a watcher, a member of a secret organization called the Council of Watchers. You're duty is to train and  

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're…"

"My name is Merrick, sir. I also belong to the council. I'm here to share information with you…"

"You belong to the Watcher's Council?" Giles says, warily. "How do I know that you're not …"

"Look, call Britain. Talk to Quentin Travers. He'll vouch for me. Can I at least come in while you verify my story?"

"I suppose you better, " Giles retreats, opening room for the burly man to enter.  He closes the door and follows him into the living room.

"You said you had information vital for my Slayer?"

"Yes, information that may save her life…" Merrick makes his way to the sofa and turns.

"Actually, this information may save the lives of both our slayers."

Giles stops in mid stride. He stares at the man, agog.

"Both our slayers? I'm not following you. There's only one slayer…"

"Normally, yes, "Merrick agrees, sitting. "But these aren't normal times. I think you better contact Quentin and have that little chat."

Giles stares at the man, his eyes narrowing.

"Indeed, I better."

 

To be continued.