Faith The Series

Faith S1 Ep4

“Hey Jack!” Lou grinned as he threw pebbles at the high school window. He’d always hated school, getting thrown out by Flutie was no big deal. Except, no-one told the Molasky twins what to do. “Bet I can get this one right through this window.”

When his brother didn’t reply, he glanced over his shoulder. His mouth dropped open to see a cop stood over his brother’s crumpled body, bloody leaking from his sibling’s mouth. “What the -, argh!”

His curse was cut off by a night-stick to the forehead knocking him to his knees. “Wrong-doers must be punished,” the cop intoned, his voice lifeless before bringing the weapon down on him again and again until all there was nothing but pain for him.

* * *

“Hey G!” Giles winced as his foster-daughter barrelled into his place with a speed that left the double doors flying with enough force to turn them into deadly weapons in the unlikely event of someone being stood behind them, her bellow loud enough to make the windows murmur in protest. All this in his soddin’ library. “You heard about the Molaskys?”

“Yes I have,” Giles was unable to prevent a smirk. Those little bloody hooligans. After he’d caught them selling speed behind the bleachers, he’d dragged them to Flutie’s, while all the time having to listen to their crude remarks about, and threats to, Faith Not that his girl couldn’t look after herself, but it was the principle of the thing, he might not be able to protect her from vampires and the like, although he’d do his damnest. But two little sods like the Molaskys – in his book they’d got exactly what they deserved.

“Was it a vampire?”

He cast his daughter a disapproving look. “Faith, what have I told you?”

His Slayer rolled her eyes. “Look at the evidence.”

“And?”

“No bite-marks and they’re both alive. In comas but alive,” Faith nodded. “It was something else.”

“Correct,” he beamed proudly

“Supernatural or natural?”

”Not that’s a little more tricky,” Giles paused. “The methodology used was more than likely mundane, but the force considerably more than a normal human could exert.”

“Jeez,” Faith looked exasperated. “Couldn’t you just say you didn’t know?”

* * *

He sighed as his phone, the private line, rang. His skills had gained him some very nice privileges – a private office, the extra money, and the satisfaction of a job well done, but sometimes the demand his boss made. Swallowing slightly, he picked up his phone. “Yes sir?”

“Ah,” his boss’ voice boomed back at him, almost deafening him with his heartiness. “Splendid job your men did last night.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Now, as to your next job.”

His heart sank at his employer’s next words. “Sir, he’s not a criminal.”

“No of-course not. But he’s a root cause, far too soft on the juveniles in his charge. Can I rely on you?”

His paymaster’s tone hadn’t changed one iota and yet he heard it, the certain knowledge that to refuse would only lead to him taking his prospective victim’s place in the morgue. Finally he managed to speak. “Of course sir.”

“Wonderful,” his boss’ beam could be heard even over the phone. “After all, remember-.”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” he finished obediently.

“Quite.”

* * *

“Ah hello officers!” Flutie beamed as the two policemen approached. His parents, god-fearing folk that they were, had brought him up to have a healthy respect for the custodians of the law. And living in Sunnydale with all its attendant unexplained disappearances had only increased his appreciation of the role of the police in society. “It’s good to see y-,” his eyes trailed off as he noticed that one of the officers was missing an eye, a bullet hole drilled through it.

“You have failed in your duty.” He began to back away from the two advancing officers, his earlier pleasure turning to terror. “The price is death.” He turned to run, only to fall over an upraised pavement stone. As he reached his hands and knees something smashed into his head, knocking him back down. “Resisting arrest will not help.” Soon blow after blow was reigning down on him.

* * *

“You heard about Principal Flutie?”

Giles looked up from the paper he was barely able to focus on to see his daughter and her friends stood before him, sombre expressions on their faces. “I heard,” he confirmed.

“Sounded the same as the Molasky twins,” his charge commented.

“Perhaps,” he was non-committal, unsure as to where the conversation was going.

“Maybe we could check out, see if something supernatural did it?” Cordelia broke in.

Ah, he understood it now. His children, yes in just a few short weeks he’d begun to think of them all as his extended family, were desperate to find something less than human to blame Flutie’s brutal murder on. Understandable, even though Faith with her torrid childhood should know better. “What a splendid idea,” he forced a smile. He doubted there was anything, but if they researched, immersed themselves in study, some of the shock might wear off – sometimes doing something, anything, was the best way to ease pain.

* * *

“What do you think got Flutie?” Jesse queried.

“I don’t know Jess,” Xander shrugged. All night they’d studied until Giles had shooed them out of the library stating it was time for him and Faith to patrol. He’d offered to go with, but Faith had brought up that ‘no civilian’ rule so he’d gone off with the others to the Bronze. And now it was time to go home. “Hey,” he pointed at a mesh fence. “Remember using Tonk’s Timber as short-cut home when we were little?”

Jesse grinned. “And that time we made a slide out of some scrap wood and Jonathan got splinters in his ass.”

Xander laughed. “Oh yeah,” he winked at his friend. “Shall we? For old time’s sake?”

His friend nodded. “Great idea.”

Ten minutes later they’d crossed the timber yard with much giggling and were climbing out of the timber yard through another hole in the fence. “Trespassers are criminals.”

Xander groaned when a police officer stepped out of the shadows in front of them. Busted, his dad was going to kick his ass. “Sorry off-,” his voice trailed off as he noticed the huge chunk missing from the side of the cop’s head. “Jes-,” at the last second he saw the night-stick come up and blocked it on his forearm, pain reverberating through his arm.

“Hey!” Jesse stepped forward only to catch a right to the stomach. Even as his friend doubled up, the cop cracked the night-stick down between his companion’s shoulder-blades, sending Jess to his hands and knees. His friend groaned, but his attacker was relentless, slamming a foot into the side of his friend’s head. Heart racing, Xander leapt at the cop, tackling him around the waist. The officer just grunted before driving something, an elbow maybe, into Xander’s back. A half-second later he glimpsed Jesse make it to his feet, grab a loose plank and thrust it into the side of the police officer’s head.

That was enough to stagger the creature. “Thanks!” Xander grabbed hold of Jesse. “Now run!”

“He’s gaining!”

“I know,” Xander replied through pained gasps, god his arm hurt. “Who’s nearest?”

“Faith!”

Xander nodded, that was something. Turning a corner, he saw his friend’s house. “Go get her! I’ll hold him off!” Seeing his friend’s mouth open, he bellowed. “JUST DO IT!”

* * *

Faith looked up from her TV at the banging at the door. Turning MTV off she raced down to see G hurrying out of the front room, poker in hand. “Is that-?”

”Jesse?” her Watcher nodded. “It would appear so. But one can never be too careful.”

Faith flung the door open only for her friend to fall at her feet, not the first guy to do that, but they weren’t usually oozing blood at the time. Immediately she was crouched down beside him. “Jess! What’s wrong?”

“Demon Cop,” the youth gasped, viscera dripping onto the carpet, “attacked us.”

Faith’s heart stopped. ”Us?”

“Xander-.”

Faith didn’t wait to hear the rest, leaping over Jesse’s body, she charged out of the house and raced down the street, the sound of a struggle filling her ears. Her heart stopped as she turned a corner to see a bulky cop stood over a crumpled Xander. “Hey!” she screamed. “Head’s up!”

Leaping into the air, she caught Xander’s attacker with a two-footed dropkick to the chest. To her surprise the blow didn’t lift her rival off his feet. Instead he just grunted and took a step back. Rallying quickly, she slammed a fist into the side of his head with a chunk missing, hoping for a weakness. Nothing. Next she leapt into the air, executing a flawless hook kick to the back of her opponent’s head only to be scooped out of the air and thrown to the ground. Dazed, she was helpless to prevent the cop from grabbing her by the throat and start choking her. She flailed out at him, punching and kicking desperately but to no avail, a stray blow caught his shirt, tearing his badge away and sending it clattering to the floor. A half-second later, something akin to intelligence appeared in the demon’s dull eyes. “Thank you,” the creature said before exploding into dust, sending her crashing to the ground, only the badge and Xander’s battered body remaining as evidence that he’d ever been there.

* * *

“What the fuck was that?” Faith hissed as she paced the corridor outside Xander and Jesse’s room. The two boys only had superficial wounds, bruising and shit, but if she hadn’t turned up….

“It would appear,” her Watcher looked as worried as she felt. “That someone has been raising zombies.”

“Of course they have,” Faith rolled her eyes. “How come it exploded into dust when I tore its badge from it?”

Her guardian didn’t answer for a second. “I would suspect that the zombie’s sense of duty was used to drag them back to this life, the badge was a mystical symbol of that so to speak.” She nodded to indicate she was with the Englishman so far. “When you tore it off.”

“I broke the link,” she finished.

“Precisely.”

Faith hid a grin at the librarian’s proud smile, she loved it when he looked at her like that, no one had ever been proud of her before. “Question is how come they didn’t have guns? And are there any more?”

“My guess would be that they, as re-animated corpses, have poorer than human co-ordination and reflexes and whoever summonsed them didn’t want bystanders to be shot. As to the other,” Giles paused, “I’m not sure. You did well tonight.”

Faith nodded, this praise resting slightly less comfortingly on her shoulders. Jess and Xan had still got hurt though. “G, I was thinking.” Always a dangerous thing for her to do, she generally used her head for butting shit with. “Maybe we should train the guys, Red and C if they want to too.” Seeing her Watcher’s mouth open. “There’s bad shit out there G, even if they don’t patrol with us I can’t be there 24/7.”

“A good point,” Giles nodded unwillingly. “But for their own defence only.”

She nodded in agreement. She didn’t have a problem with that condition. “Sure G.”
She paused. “It takes guts don’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?” her Watcher looked confused.

“Caring about people.” Her next words came at a rush. “I ain’t never cared about anyone like I do you and the others and it’s wicked scary. I thought caring meant you were a wuss but it doesn’t does it? Means you’re strong.”

“That it does Faith.”
* * *

“But they’re going to be alright?”

Seeing Faith’s eyes flicker impatiently, Giles spoke up before his charge put her foot in it. “They’ll be fine Willow,” he smiled at the red-headed hacker. “Now why don’t you-.”

He groaned as the library doors flew open and Cordelia strode in. “Why wasn’t I informed that my boy-friend had been beaten up?”

Giles winced. Cordelia was a wonderful young lady, spirited and brave, a fine friend for his daughter, but sometimes…. “Faith, please,” he pleaded. The Bostonian nodded before hurrying over to speak to the cheerleader. He turned back to Willow. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um, reports of police brutality in the past year.” His eyes furrowed as the computer screen changed to a picture of the Sunnydale Police Department and within seconds, the red-head was leafing through what appeared be the records of their Internal Affairs Department. “I say, this is legal?” Willow gave him a sickly smile. Oh dear lord. “I wasn’t here,” he muttered. “I knew nothing. Was an innocent dupe.”

“Tsk, tsk,” he looked up to see Faith stood behind him, shaking her head. “Corrupting minors, who would have guessed behind that mild-mannered librarian act there hid a crim’s heart.”

He glared at his grinning daughter. “Oh do belt up.”

“Got it!”

He turned back to Willow. “Got what?”

“There’s been nine complaints of police brutality in the last year-.”

“That doesn’t seem a lot,” Miss. Chase commented.

”Actually it is,” Faith broke in. “For a burg this size least-ways. Most people who beaten by the pigs don’t bother to report. I’d say there’s been at least fifty attacks.”

“But that’s not the interesting thing,” Willow continued, her annoyed expression clearly indicating Miss Rosenberg did not appreciate being interrupted. “The interesting thing is five of the cases were dropped when badge numbers were given that matched those of dead cops. Twice the cop,” the hacker held up the badge Faith had taken from the zombie last night, “who attacked Xander and Jesse last night.”

“Only twice?” Cordelia queried just before him. “What about the other times?”

“Just checking,” Willow tapped a few keys. “One cop died nine months ago, four months before the attack he was meant to be involved in. The other died ten months ago, three and six months before the attacks before he was accused of.”

A dozen swear-words rushed through Giles’ head. “So there’s more than one zombie?”

He nodded at Faith’s question. “It would appear so. Willow, how many officers have died in the past year?”

Willow tapped at her keyboard at a bewildering rate for a few seconds. “Seven, one through blood-loss, one in a convenience store shooting, one of heart attack, one from suicide, two in car crashes, and one from drowning.”

Giles grimaced. “Could you note down where each one is buried, excluding the one Faith slayed last night of course.”

“Two were cremated,” Willow looked at him for guidance.

“Discard them too please. We only need to check those that were buried.”

“So tonight we’re going grave inspecting?” Faith scowled. “I fucking love my life.”

* * *

Snyder glared around the corridors surrounding them. “May I speak freely Mr. Mayor?”

“Please do.” Mayor Wilkins beamed at his prospective principal candidate. ”I like to encourage free and frank exchange of views between myself and senior public officials.”

“There’s the stench of indiscipline around here,” Snyder’s face wrinkled in distaste. “The last administration was lax, oh so very lax.”

Wilkins beamed. This was his man. “Oh, I couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

Faith stared around the hushed, shadowy graveyard. “That the last one?” Giles nodded. Faith sighed, thank god, sometimes her Calling really sucked. “What’s the results?”

“Of the four, three graves appeared to have been tampered with,” her Watcher replied.

“So three more zombies?”

”Possibly, there could have been body-snatchers, demons. It’s really quite fascinating -.”

“G, you ever wonder why you ain’t got a girlfriend?” Faith crunched her nose up. “Us female types really don’t like guys with a fascination for worm-food. Ain’t healthy.”

“Yes very amusing,” Giles slammed his note-book shut, an injured expression on the librarian’s face. “I have all the information I require. What we need is to see Willow tomorrow and get her-.”

“There isn’t going to be a tomorrow. For either of you.”

* * *

Darla beamed at the Slayer and the Watcher, a handsome devil he was. All refined and proper on the outside, but inside. Um, she almost shivered at the hidden delights before turning her attention to the business at hand. The Slayer.

She was a pretty little thing with smouldering eyes and a curvy body. But dangerous, Darla reminded herself, she should never forget that. “You know,” she stepped towards the hunter of her kind. “I’ve never killed a Slayer before.”

The brunette laughed huskily. “Hey bitch, you ain’t gonna do tonight either. Who the hell are you anyhow, just out of interest, I like to keep a list.”

“My name is Darla,” she smiled at the Englishman’s shocked expression. He’d heard of her.

“Be careful Faith,” the Watcher called, such a strong voice. “She’s an old vampire, favoured of the Master.”

“Shit G,” the Slayer sounded amused rather than frightened. “I killed Lothos remember? The blonde hag ain’t shit.”

Darla stopped her advance, rage battling with wariness. Blond hag? How dare she? But she’d killed Lothos? She remembered him, had met him in the early 1900s. Even the Master walked lightly around him. But she needed this little bitch’s head to regain her sire’s favour.

Gathering her courage, she leapt forward, the nails of her right hand raking the Slayer down her left cheek. The Slayer staggered backwards, her cry combining pain and shock. Anxious to follow up her advantage, she snapped out a left heel kick that her rival sidestepped, stepping inside her guard, and driving a knee at her groin.

Darla twisted away from the blow, catching it on her thigh. Even so, her opponent’s power sent a shock through her entire body. She only just managed to stumble away from her rival’s follow-up stake thrust, slapping the blow away just inches from her heart, but was helpless to prevent a headbutt cannoning into her nose, breaking it. “Argh!”

“Yes!”

Seeing the blurred image of the Slayer leaping at her, Darla leapt into the air, catching the supernatural warrior around the waist in a scissors and driving her to the ground. She slammed a fist into her rival’s mouth, the viscera that spilt out almost enough to drive her insane with lust. “Look who’s on top,” she gloated. “Something I’m sure you’re used to. Ah well,” she vamped out, “all good things etc, etc.”

“I think not.”

She screamed as the Watcher pressed a cross into her cheek, her flesh burning instantly. Leaping to her feet, she backhanded the man to the ground. “I’ll flay every inch of skin off your body!” she vowed as she advanced on the crumpled body.

“Like hell.” Darla turned her head to catch a jaw-cracking right that knocked her off her feet and propelled her over the top of a near-by cherub. “No-body messes with my Watcher!” The moment she hit the ground, she was up again and racing away, there were other ways to curry favour with the Master!

* * *

“You alright G?” Faith helped the middle-aged librarian to his feet. “Thanks for the save by the way.”

Giles smiled then winced. “I rather think that’ll bruise,” he muttered. “And thank you for your reciprocation.”

“No problem,” she smiled blandly. It would help her communicate with her guardian if she knew what he was saying for more than half the time! “Who’s that Darla chick anyway?”

“A four hundred year old whore,” Faith nodded sagely. She thought she’d seen some lines. “She was the favoured of the Master until she turned a notorious vampire Angelus in the 1750s. The Master disliked Angelus on sight, and the two fell out. She ran away with Angelus.”

“Well baby she’s back,” Faith sighed. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough.

* * *

“Wow,” Jonathan’s eyes widened as he stared at Willow’s furiously typing fingers. “Your technique is amazing. Could you teach me?”

Faith chuckled. “This is like a nature programme,” she whispered to Cordy as they stood in the stacks behind the working duo. “Mating rituals of the nerds.”

Cordy giggled. “Do you think we could do a paper for Sociology, get some extra credits?”

“Finished!” Willow beamed as she looked around proudly. “We have a winner!” the red-head looked uncertain. “Well a prime suspect anyhow.”

Immediately Faith’s manner changed from jovial to businesslike. One hand vaulting over the rail she hurried over to the two computer hackers. “What’s the sitch?”

“All four zombies have one thing in common, the same Watch Commander, Sebastian N ‘Veyro.”

“Oh good lord.”

Faith looked up to see her Watcher hurrying into his office only to return seconds later carrying a leather-bound book. “What’s the sitch?”

“Oh dear,” Giles looked up from his book. “N ‘Veyro is a famous name in the field of Voodoo, many of its Haitian high priests bear that name and are feared for their skill in necromancy.”

“Ladies, gentleman,” Faith pronounced. “We have a winner.”

“Not necessarily,” Giles stared at Willow and Jonathan. “We have one more test to do to make sure. I’ll need you both.”

Willow gulped. “Okay.”

* * *

“Thank you for your help sir,” Captain N’Veyro smiled as they all stood, signifying the end of his interview with Mr. Levinson and Ms. Rosenberg on the causes of youth crime. He was of the firm opinion if all children were like Ms. Rosenberg and her friend there wouldn’t be any youth crime.

His smile slipped as she shook the young woman’s right hand and a small but identifiable bracelet slipped out from under her jumper. Pretending not to have noticed, he nodded. “Always a pleasure to help two fine young people like you,” he gushed. “If you have any further questions, please don’t hesitate to get in touch.”

Miss Rosenberg nodded. “Thank you sir.”

* * *

“Well?” Jonathan demanded in a hiss the moment the Captain closed the door behind them. “Is it him?”

“It’s him,” Willow replied with a nod. Mr. Giles had sent them undercover to interview the suspect, all the while wearing a specially made bracelet that caused its wearer’s arm to itch when in the presence of a black arts mage. It had even itched slightly when Giles had put it on, although it had stopped almost immediately. She guessed it had been nerves, psychosomatic maybe, because it had itched much more in the cop’s presence.

* * *

N’Veyo scowled as he watched the two teens walk away. It appeared his men would have a special assignment tonight.

* * *

Giles paced the library floor, the quarterstaff he’d been using with his companions still in his hand. “She’ll be fine Giles.” He glanced at Cordelia and smiled weakly. He had ‘faith’ in his daughter’s abilities, but breaking into a police station was a tall order even for a Slayer.

Suddenly he noticed the two girls and Jonathan had paled. “What’s wrong?” his voice trailed off as he registered the three police officers striding into his library. “Get in my office and lock the door!” he ordered.

“Gil-.”

“Now Cordelia!” he roared before turning towards the zombies and cracking his neck. “Come on then you buggers,” he growled, the dark side of his personality rippling to the surface. “Let’s be having you.” Hurry up Faith, he silently pleaded.

* * *

Faith dropped through the third floor window, into an utility closet, relieved that she hadn’t entered right into a squad room or a cell. That would have made things tricky. Getting access to the building was the easy part, now she had to find the damn cop without being noticed. “Hope Red’s directions are cool.” And she hoped the asshole was in. Careful to stick to the shadows, she set off.

* * *

The moment one of the trio got in range, Giles thrust one end of his quarterstaff into the zombie’s throat, knocking the undead back a step. Conscious that his one advantage was his greater range, Giles didn’t follow up, turning his attention to the next zombie, catching him with a blow to the back of his leg that sent him down to one knee.

“Oh bugger,” he muttered as the creature immediately rose. Stepping back, he allowed the three re-animated corpses to soundlessly advance on him before suddenly attacking, swinging his weapon at the head of the leftmost zombie. The blow struck home with a satisfying crack and snapped the resurrected rozzer’s head to one side but otherwise had no effect.

“Well this is demoralising,” Giles commented dryly as he stepped back again. One of the zombies swung his nightstick up in an uppercut motion, Giles blocked the attack but winced as the blow’s impact reverberated through him and grunted as a blow from another of his attackers caught him on his elbow, knocking his quarterstaff to the ground. A half-second later, another blow hit him on the side of the head, knocking him on his back.

“Hey!” his heart sank at Willow’s voice. “You were sent for me! Willow Rosenberg. You want me?” He heard the sound of an arrow being fired and grimaced. Oh bloody marvellous, it wasn’t enough he was being threatened by a trio of zombies, now he had to contend with a novice archer too.

* * *

“Hey, you N’Veyo?” N’Veyo looked up to see a lithe brunette with sultry eyes and sensual lips stood in the doorway of his office.

“Young lady,” he didn’t bother to hide his disdain. “Vice is on the second floor.”

“Funny,” the girl smiled. There was little humour in the facial gesture. The raven-haired temptress strutted into his office. “You know every time a cop would pull me in for pick-pocketing, boosting a car whatever, it would be ‘Faith you’re just like your mom, you’re worthless, a slut, a whore’. That was before they got rough,” the girl smiled. “Guess what?” his eyes widened as the teen grabbed one corner of his desk and flung it into the right wall. In an instance she had him by his throat held at arm’s length. “Worm’s turned. Now,” she flung him into the wall opposite his desk, “I could just ask my question. But payback’s a bitch and whadda ya know?” the juvenile grinned. “Pigs always said I was a bitch.”

His scream turned to a wheeze when the girl drove a foot into his groin, followed quickly by a right that shattered his nose. “Tut, tut,” he moaned as the woman stomped on his right hand. “No respect for authority, always been my trouble. Now Flutie was a wuss but a decent guy and you got him killed. So you get one chance,” suddenly he was in the air again, the girl’s incredibly strong hand wrapped around his throat. “How do I break the spell?”

“B..by breaking the statue on my filing cabinet.”

The girl beamed. “Thanks.” Suddenly he was flying headfirst into the filing cabinet, his collision knocking the ceramic ornament to the ground. “Bye now,” the brunette stepped over him. “Do this again and I’ll be back.”

* * *

Giles sighed with relief as the zombies exploded into dust. Faith had done it. After Willow and Jonathan helped him to his feet, Cordelia saying there was no way she was getting dust on Versace, he glared at the red-head. “I thought I told you to stay in the office?”

Willow blushed. “They were after me. I knew if I distracted them, we’d have a chance.”

“Bloody kids,” he sighed. No discipline.

* * *

“Captain N’Veyo-.” The officer shuffled round to face him. Wilkins hid a wince at the policeman’s battered condition. Whoever had attacked him had really gone to town on the Haitian. “You failed me.”

Panic entered the policeman’s eyes. “Sir-.”

“No excuses needed,” he looked over his shoulders. “Kill him.”

The police officer’s hand dropped to his gun but his three vampires were on the law enforcer before he had a chance. Wilkins winced as he watched the carnage. He didn’t like to kill his subordinates, but the man had failed him. He just hoped the new principal did a better job. “Otherwise….”