DISCLAIMER: No I don’t own them, but if I did the world would be a better place.
SUMMARY: This is a story of lost identities and the struggle to discover who it is you really are.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Whether or not what I’ve heard about Liliah over there in the US is actual truth, for the premise of this story she is alive and well. Just so that's clear.
SPOILERS: Anything and everything.
DISTIBUTION: This story’s for all. Anybody can feel free to put it on their site if they let me know about it first. And please do, because I would love to have some work posted!
FEEDBACK: You know you want to.
RATING: R

~*~*~*~*

I hope she’s strong enough to make it. Peace is not an easy thing to find.
-‘Sanctuary’

~*~*~*~*

He slid along through the darkness like a sinister shadow itself, and he was already being pursued.

He could sense the feel of iniquity they brought with them, and drew deeper into the shadows, gazing uneasily around. He couldn’t afford a confrontation, not with them. But they would hunt him like a wild dog, and perhaps it was best to reveal himself before they killed him like one.

Sighing deeply, he detached himself from the cover of night in a show of surrender.

The road was empty, as it always was at night. He didn’t even need to take two steps before an engine roared the night, and the long menacing shape of a black limousine slinked over the road towards him, and came to a stop not two metres from where he stood. He didn’t twitch.

He turned his head as if to flee the other way, and the other car shot forward, swerving to the side so he was neatly boxed between them.

The rear door to the first opened from within, and the figure took their time emerging. A ripple of an emotion he couldn’t determine ran throughout his body.

Her.

Of course.

“Wesley Wyndham-Price”.

Liliah Morgan swept her lengthy brown hair nonchalantly over one shoulder, and smoothed over her knee length black business skirt, as if the conversation they were about to delve into could be nothing deeper than the weather.

Her cold dark eyes moved slowly upward to penetrate his, and a wicked smirk pulled at the corners of her lips, anticipating what she was so sure she would see in there.

Instead all she saw was emptiness.

Annoyance flickered across her face, but she quickly replaced it with her trademark evil grin. He didn’t those teeth had ever been exposed for something joyful before.

“Well, it’s definitely been a while”, she commented flippantly.

Wesley resisted the urge to grimace. “Yes, it really has.”

Maybe not long enough, he added to himself in contempt.

She paced slowly back and forth before him. “Life hasn’t been treating you especially well, huh? You look like Hell. But I do hear 7H is kinder on their prisoners than most”.

He scoffed cynically. “Then you heard wrong”.

“Ah.”

Wesley narrowed his eyes impatiently. “What is it you want, Liliah?”

Liliah ran her tongue slowly over her lips, as if seeking the right words. “I believe we can help each other”, she settled at last.

Wesley chuckled humourlessly. “Me, help Wolfram and Hart you mean? What could possibly make you believe that I would do that? Did you think perhaps you could persuade me with your… well, I want to say womanly charms, but the term seems somehow embarrassingly unfitting, does it?”

Liliah sneered at him with something akin to hatred. Oh, she didn’t want reminding of that.

“That honeymoon was over long ago, Wes”.

“I don’t believe it ever begun”.

She was tired of their banter, that much was clear. “You know the Summoning can never go ahead without a power source, right?” she said bluntly.

Wesley cocked an eyebrow, inwardly not surprised in the least how fast Wolfram and Hart had been catching on to the game. He had expected that. From them.

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” he inquired carelessly instead.

Liliah rolled her eyes. “Please. I was hoping we could skip the lacklustre denials for the night. I have more pressing paperwork to get back to at the office.”

Wesley shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“L.A. while as cheery with bloodshed as it is, is nowhere near what you’d call extensively powerful. Well, not technically”, she went on indifferently. “However there is a quaint little town not two hours north of here that might come a little closer to filling that quota. Nice climate, real holiday town. I believe you know it. Sunnydale?”

Wesley refused to show his surprise. He had hoped it wouldn’t quite amount to that drastic an action. For all his desires, on the bottom of the list was to ever return to that damned place.

“Even if I were to believe you, there’s no way to get within ten miles of the Hellmouth, Liliah”, he said flatly, tired of their games and very conscious of the underlying sexual tension mounting between them. Liliah wasn’t the only one who wanted to forget about that. “Not if you have a pulse.”

Liliah smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong again, Wesley”, she said, in an annoying singsong voice that made him want to choke her. “You really do underestimate Wolfram and Hart, after all of this time, don’t you? We have shamans and mages and all else working around the clock to gain us access to the little town, and there’s not one damn thing the vampires can do to stop us, before we pop a hole right in front of their undead asses. We could claim the town permanently if we wanted to”.

He couldn’t hide his scorn. “But that isn’t on the Senior Partner’s charter I take it?”

She shook her head, somewhat disappointedly. “No. I must admit it would be very interesting to watch, but it isn’t what they want. For some reason they seem to think you would be an important asset to their cause, and for once, I have to agree with them.” He grin grew. “I always knew you’d grow up into the conniving bastard they thought you were. You’ve been working against them all this time, and Angel doesn’t even know it.”

“So you want me to perform the Summoning in Sunnydale?” he said with irritation. “That’s a bit extreme, even for you. What can Wolfram and Hart possibly gain from all this?”

Liliah sighed as if she couldn’t believe his utter stupidity. “We’re on a need to know basis here, Wes”, she reminded him matter-of-factly. “Even if I could tell you, I don’t think I would want to. The element of surprise spices things up a shade, don’t you think?”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Almost everything.” She paused. “There is one thing that concerns us. The pretty little vampire slayer in your midst.” She waved a hand vaguely. “What’s her name? Bunny, or something?”

“Buffy”, he corrected automatically.

“Right”, she responded dismissively. “Word has it she was quite a force to be reckoned with in her heyday. Stopped more than her fair share of apocalypses. If she were ever to cross over I see hell to pay for Angel and his pals”.

“Well I don’t ever see that happening.”

She scoffed. “No. She does have an odd attachment to the poor bastard, doesn’t she? But then she doesn’t seem to be much of a risk these days anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that”.

“Well, you would know her better than we do. I’ve read her files. You were her watcher for the length of about four months, isn’t that right?” Derisive smirk he wanted to swipe clean off her face. Not the shortest in a watcher’s active duty, but cutting it close. She didn’t like you too much, if I recall. Still, that leaves us a connection. An important connection.”

He could see where this was going. “You want me to watch her?”

“Ultimately, we what to know whether or not Buffy Summers is to be considered a threat. With Angel struggling so hard to save her soul, she’ll either be reduced to a basket case or we’ll have something to worry about within the month”. She wrinkled her nose. “Much as I hate the guy, he’s good at his Dr. Phil routine.”

Wesley had to agree.

He eyed her carefully. “What’s in this for me, Liliah?”

“Do you have to ask?” she snapped, tapping her heel impatiently on the gravel. So far there were no other signs from within the vehicles, but he knew they were there, he could feel their eyes on him.

Not that they would care much if anything were to happen to Liliah Morgan.

“We could give you anything, and you’ll take it because there’s nowhere else to go, is there Wes?” the lawyer continued to taunt. He dimly wondered how on earth she had managed to last as long as she had with the evil law firm. It didn’t seem feasible.

“Money, prestige, power, you name it, you got it. But you don’t want any of that. You want them to pay, and you aren’t one to chew over the consequences along the way.” She stepped intently towards him. “We like that. You know I’m right about this. Without Sunnydale, without our help, your entire efforts will amount to nothing.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and came to a stop too close in front of him, and there was deep satisfaction there. She thought she’d broke him.

She probably had.

“So. What do you say?”

~*~*~*~*

“Xander, can you pass me that please?”

Xander glanced around at his best friend’s voice, and quickly obeyed her command, grasping forward the herb shaker she absentmindedly gestured to.

Willow mixed at the cooking pot, and he smelled the enticing scent in appreciation. “Smells good”.

She shot him a quick grin. “I always dreaded the day I’d become Ms. Housewife”.

He smiled at the comment, but he knew they both found comfort in the odd domestication-routine they had adapted together since moving to L.A.

Father-mother-daughter.

As he glanced at Danielle, mesmerised with some new treasure one of the kind-hearted wiccan’s had leant her to play with and admire, he knew it was close enough to the truth. He was Danielle’s father, in every meaning of the word, and if his best friend loved him enough to share that gift with him, then he was grateful beyond expression.

He was worried about her. Ever since her assault she had been… dependant on him, but Buffy’s reappearance seemed to have triggered… something else. She was starting to repress. She didn’t share her feelings with him over the matter, and that worried him more than anything else, because they talked about everything.

He didn’t want to blame Buffy for that, he knew it was his own selfish, irrational reasoning, but he did. He resented her for leaving them when they needed her, for leaving Willow when she needed her, when she needed protection. He resented her for turning up when things were just starting to get good again.

In some ways he envied Dawn’s ability to shut her out, but knew that he could never deny her anything, not like that. Willow was his best friend since kindergarten, but when Buffy arrived in Sunnydale… it had filled a void in him he hadn’t even known was there. He loved her. Always would. And he knew she was hurting.

I just hope Angel can cure her that.

Much as he hated to admit it, Angel was someone she needed right now. Angel didn’t begrudge her, he understood because he could sympathize in a way that Xander would never be able to do. In some ways he never wanted to. He had grown up thinking in simplest terms; there was Good and there was Bad.

The something in between, that was what he could never understand.

Willow was watching him intently over the bubbling liquid, and he didn’t notice until she spoke, in that soft, gentle way she had.

“Deep thoughts?”

Xander smirked a little, not wanting to burden her with the direction his mind had been headed. “Naw. Just wondering when you’re gonna dish up, because I’m famished”, he dismissed.

Her pixie face scrunched up. “Thinking about Buffy?”

God. Can’t get anything past my Will.

“Yeah”, he acknowledged reluctantly.

She nodded, glancing towards the contents of the pot with less avid concentration. “I was thinking about her too”.

Xander pursed his lips. “Shiny nickel for a share session?”

Willow sighed wearily. “She was… different. Didn’t you think she was different?”

“Well, sure Will. It’s been six years.”

“Not just that”, the redhead insisted. “She was… defeated. Like she was… so lost. Like nothing really mattered anymore. I know she was glad to see us, but… I don’t think Dawn helped out too much on that front”.

“Stubborn like someone else I remember”.

She spared a wistful smile. “I wish we could have that back again. Our lives… the way they used to be”. She looked at him quickly. “Not that I’m not liking our whole thing here”.

He shook his head. “I know”, he said gently.

Willow moved her shoulders forward in a shrug. “Everything’s so strained between us now. She isn’t our Buffy anymore. You know what I mean?”

“She’ll come round”, he said, with a conviction he didn’t feel.

Willow raised her thin eyebrows. “I hope you’re sure about that, Xand. I wish I had your confidence”.

“It’s borrowed power”, he assured her affectionately.

She grinned. Then she stopped. A strange look fluttered across her thin face, and the wooden spoon slipped through her fingers and bounced on the tiled floor.

Xander shot up in alarm. “Willow?”

She swayed unsteadily, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She staggered, and collapsed toward the floor. Xander lunged forward and caught her in his arms a split second before she impacted with the ground, and lowered her down gently with swiftly mounting apprehension.

“Will?” he cried frantically, slapping her pale cheeks with the back of his palm. “Will, come back to me, please!”

“Mommy?” Danielle whimpered in a shrill voice.

Xander spared her a quick glance, struggling to force his features into an expression of reassurance. “It’s all right, Dani. Mommy’s fine”, he said shakily. “Right, Will? Will?”

“Xander?”

The voice was barely a groan, but the relief overwhelmed him in waves as her eyes flickered gradually open. Her breathing was harsh and laborious, and he reached up to the sink to clumsily retrieve a wet dishcloth and press it to her forehead, where a small line of perspiration matted down her scarlet tinted tresses.

“Willow?” he repeated anxiously, heart thundering painfully fast. “You okay?”

The redhead struggled to pull herself to a sitting position, and her gaze took in Danielle across the room who began to cry dolefully.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s fine”, Willow murmured unsteadily. She beseeched the small child with an outstretched arm. “C’mere”. Danielle moved tentatively forward and buried her petite face in the hollow of Willow’s neck, her sobs subsiding into uneven hiccups.

Xander ran his fingers lightly over his best friend’s hair as if to assure himself she was still there, not as easily persuaded of her good health as her daughter was.

“What the heck happened just then?”

Willow shut her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. “I couldn’t… put it into words, Xander. I saw… I don’t know. I felt… I could feel something horrible in my stomach.” She licked her lips, as if struggling to identify it.

“Something… evil.”

Xander drew back on his haunches. “What?” he asked shakily.

Willow slowly shook her head. “Something… coming. I could feel it in the earth. I could always sense little things before, but this… this was different.”

Certainty settled across her pallid face.

“I have to see Buffy”.

~*~*~*~*

The afternoon was unpleasantly cold and nippy, and Faith tugged her denim jacket tighter over her shoulders as she descended the flight of stairs that entered beside the door to the kitchen.

Once Gunn had gotten over his initial shock at Angie’s untimely and grisly murder, he had gathered himself together long enough to retrieve the supplies he had gone out to collect in the first place. Faith pulled open the kitchen cupboards, and checked their contents with a critical eye while muttering to herself about the cold.

Buffy was presumably still asleep in her room. Faith was surprised to discover she was enjoying having her fellow slayer around again. Whatever had happened in Buffy’s past had caused forgiveness in her that Faith was willing to take full advantage of, and repair the vestiges of their previous relationship.

Apart from Angel, Buffy was the only other person to ever genuinely want to be her friend. She intended to return the favour.

Buffy obviously needed it.

She had only discovered the other day that Buffy and Angel had taken a visit to Red and Xander in the outer suburbs of the sector. It had surprised her mostly because Buffy hadn’t mentioned it at all, and she seemed to have delved into an even deeper depression that when she first arrived in town. Faith surmised that things hadn’t gone so well, and hadn’t brought it up.

Buffy’s friends were extraordinarily supportive and accepting considering the circumstances Buffy had brought their lives into, but when it came right down to it, they couldn’t understand what it meant to be the slayer, and all that it entailed.

Faith sighed at her thoughts, but she was distracted when a frantic pounding started at the front door.

They didn’t bother with a guard – usually D.J or Pete, an ex-body-builder with a hell of a scary frame – not during the daylight hours. No one with pulse who had any sense would come knocking up trouble at this particular door.

Faith paused. Angie’s murder was still fresh in her mind. That hadn’t been vampire, and that hadn’t been sense.

She instantly tensed, and approached the door, halting only to retrieve a thick long stake on the hall table. She opened the door wide, not bothering to use the eyehole.

Faith’s eyes widened, and she hastily lowered the stake to her side when she realised who met her on the other side.

“Willow”.

The tone wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either.

Faith could feel the chills in response when Willow Rosenburg narrowed her dark green eyes icily, but kept her expression carefully void.

“Faith”.

The history was there, and the tension was stifling.

The witch crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “Well, can I come in?” she asked impatiently. “It’s kind of cold out here, and I don’t need pneumonia on top of my problems”.

Faith noted the antagonism without comment. No need to start up a throw down, and she did have a point about the weather.

“Sure”.

Willow followed her inside, and Faith closed the door behind her.

“Let me guess?” Faith asked. She couldn’t hold herself back. “Buffy, right? Some big hell-all about to come about?”

Willow scowled. “As a matter of fact, yes”.

“Should’a known that’d be the only reason you’re here. It’s not like you’d actually care enough to come for anything else”.

Willow arched her eyebrows, and anger settled over her pale face. “Excuse me?” she spat, affronted. “Since when did you become the expert on human behavior?”

Faith accepted the hurt this inflicted by visibly flinching.

“Think what you want about this”, Willow went on. “I honestly don’t care. I don’t want to get into this with you. You don’t know anything about it, so don’t you tell me I’m in the wrong when you have no damn right. I came here for one reason and that’s to see Buffy”.

“Well, here I am”, the familiar voice came from the stairwell.

They glanced upwards, not having yet moved from the entrance hall, to see Buffy with a dark look across her face. She was wearing one of Faith’s shirts and a pair of Cordelia’s tan pants, and Faith couldn’t help her amusement at the combination, and would have voiced it too, had the situation not been so serious.

She realised then that she had unwillingly planted herself in the middle, and cursed her and her big mouth for not the first time that week.

Buffy was staring at Willow with a look Faith had never seen her direct at her friend before.

“When you’re finished with Faith, you got anything hurtful to say to me?”

Willow looked immensely uncomfortable.

“Buffy –“

“Don’t think you can come here asking for my help if you’re going to insult my friends”.

The corner of Faith’s lip twitched at the word ‘friends’, but she remained impassively silent.

Willow nodded. “I know… I’m… I didn’t mean to say that. I just saw Faith here and… and…” She sighed unsteadily. “I’m sorry, Faith”.

Faith shrugged. Yeah, sure you are.

“Whatever”, she muttered reticently. She looked up at Buffy. “Listen, B, sounds like you guys have some intense chitchat to get up to. So I’ll just head off, okay?”

Buffy nodded. “Okay”.

The brunette slayer made a hasty retreat and Buffy couldn’t blame her.

She turned her attention to Willow, and walked down the stairs with deliberate slowness. By the time she reached the bottom, both had regained their composure.

“Buffy, I really think that something is coming that you need to know about”, Willow began carefully.

Buffy furrowed her brow, but started for the kitchen table where she resumed Faith’s forgotten search for food. Willow followed her uncertainly, and settled down onto a wooden chair at the table.

“Buffy –“

“What something are we talking about?” Buffy interrupted abruptly.

Willow paused. “Uh… well… Remember back in Sunnydale… how I can sense certain things? I can feel disruptions in the air and the earth. Anything that doesn’t naturally belong.”

Buffy nodded mutely, turning around to regard her as she spoke.

“Well today it happened… I was filled with such a sense of evil I’ve never felt before. It was… all-consuming and intense… it felt like something had invaded my soul.”

“I know what that feels like”, Buffy muttered quietly.

Willow hesitated, then decided not to address this comment.

“It’s coming here. The magicks are already beginning to congregate.”

She shivered, and there were goose pimples on her arms.

Buffy frowned with newfound interest. “Are you cold?” she asked cautiously.

Willow looked confused. “I… oh, it’s pretty cold outside. There must be a chill into the room or something”.

“I didn’t feel anything”, Buffy observed evenly.

Willow crinkled her eyebrows together. “Must be… just me, then. Buffy… are you okay?”

Buffy ignored the question. “Does it feel worse that before? This sense, you can feel it all the time?”

Willow shrugged. “Yeah. It stays with me. It’s like a slayer sense for witches, I suppose”.

“But does it feel more intense just now?”

Willow looked deeply confused by this point. “Well, I g-guess. It occasionally comes and goes. It depends on how close in proximity I am to the source, you could say. It’s dulled slightly here… because there’s a barrier around the building. Does Angel know some super powerful witches or something by the way? The barrier spell around this building isn’t your everyday vampire invitation repealing rite.”

Buffy waved a hand absently. “Oh, yeah, I think he said it was done by Furies, I don’t know.” She chewed her lower lip. “So if there was something… strange… the barrier would make it difficult for you to sense it outright then, wouldn’t it?”

Willow shifted. “I suppose so. Buffy… why are you asking all this? Do you know what this evil might be?”

Buffy’s eyes grew wide, and then relaxed just as quickly. As though she had pulled shutters over them. “No, no. Nothing… that drastic”, she reassured her. “Just wondering, is all.”

“Okay. I should really be getting back to Danielle and Xander. I… didn’t want to leave them for long.”

“Can you go back alone?” Buffy asked worriedly. The guilt was lucid in her expression and tone, and Willow felt immediately bad for what she had just told Faith.

It wasn’t Buffy’s responsibility to shoulder all of their combined lives. She hadn’t alienated herself from her loved ones on purpose, her life had taken as severe a turn as their own when the invasion began, except more so, because she had failed her sacred duty and allowed it to happen. Willow had always pitied Angel for his guilt over the collective sins of his hundred or so years, and now Buffy was much in the same boat, and she was not making it any easier.

She blamed her, as she knew Xander and Dawn did, and if Buffy’s words were anything to go by, Spike as well. The slayer’s downward spiral had just been resumed by the events the vampires had caused, and this was the result. The tension between them.

The fact that they were strangers.

“I’m all right during the day”, Willow assured her slowly. “I mean, I can get back with plenty of time to spare before I’m in danger of being a vampire snack-pack.”

Her attempt to alleviate her own guilt was fruitless when she saw her friend’s expression change again.

She closed her eyes. “Buffy… I want to, but I don’t blame you. I know rationally that this is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Please understand that. Don’t ever think that I… that I stopped loving you, because that will never happen, no matter how much distance or time had passed. I know Xander feels the same… and I’m sure Dawn does too, really. She’s confused, and her way of life… it can’t be making that any easier.”

She gently touched Buffy’s arm, then rose to her feet. “Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “I know it, Will. I love you guys too.”

~*~*~*~*

After Willow was gone, Buffy felt surprisingly lighter. She sat at the kitchen table motionless, and staring into space, yet somehow with the sense as if a great burden had just been lifted.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that, but started when she heard the sounds of footsteps at the base of the stairs, and the shuffle of feet as they continued down the hall and towards the back door.

Buffy’s brow creased, and her heart fluttered oddly in her chest. Without any good reason she could name of, Buffy slowly rose from her chair and moved across the wooden floor with the unnatural silence she had been trained to. Her blonde head peered cautiously around the doorframe, and she budged her weight to the toes of her feet so the floor wouldn’t creak under the pressure.

Wesley.

His fingers closed around the doorknob at the far end of the hall, and his hunched shoulders quickly disappeared outside into the waning daylight, as if he was in a great hurry. She realised if she had been anyone but the slayer, she would not have picked up on his noiseless exit at all.

Earlier suspicions nibbed at her brain.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Nothing and everything at the same time. That was the problem. She had nothing to pin on him but her inherent instincts, and despite the fact that she was the slayer, that just wasn’t enough.

Wait a minute…

Her mind flashed back to the previous day, and when she was certain she had spotted someone watching them from Wesley’s window.

His room…

Buffy sprung forward with newfound dynamism, and she hurdled the stairs quickly. She had no idea how long Wesley would be gone, but going by his past patterns, it couldn’t be too long. It was rare for him to even leave his room at all lately, and she couldn’t help finding something wrong with that in itself, though she was sure if she mentioned it to Angel he would just brush it off. They all wanted some time alone, he’d say.

Yeah, right.

The numbers were still printed faintly on the apartment doors. Wesley’s door, 201, was a little further down the hall than anyone else. She rattled the knob. Locked.

She was getting desperate. The further she got, she was sure she was just outside discovering the truth – or something that would lead them to the truth. An inward sense of apprehension she had was running chills up and down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather.

Buffy grunted in frustration. Desperate times called for some damn desperate measures. Took a step backwards, and lifted her boot. She drove the leather toe firmly against the wood, and it burst in on its hinges, splintering slightly where she had kicked it.

She blinked at the dust churned up from the broken wood, and stood back as the air cleared. She swept her gaze uneasily around the cramped room, stepping just beyond the threshold.

A steel framed bed shoved off to the side. A plain white chest of drawers that looked to be empty. Throw rug in the centre of the room.

She strode purposefully forward, slightly disappointed at the normalcy and lack of evidence.

There’s nothing.

Since when is evidence right there for all to see? she argued impatiently. The room was actually quite stuffy, and she stepped over the rug towards the window, and lifted it with difficulty. She paused in front of the welcoming breeze, momentarily basking in the cold.

Then she frowned. The heel of her boot was caught on something. She turned and realised a loose thread on the throw rug was attached to her foot, and pulled it free with a flourish.

Her mouth fell open as the room instantly changed. A pentagram. It was secreted underneath the rug, and began to glow horribly bright, and energy swirled over the wooden floorboards, making them distort and shiver in that one area. Buffy backed away, and jumped when a sudden wind picked up from the open window, and the door slammed closed behind her.

Buffy whirled, fully ready to get the hell out of the room, and was confronted with what had been hanging off the back of the door, concealed from her view while it was open.

Buffy staggered backwards as she let out a cry of utter horror, and she tripped, slamming her back painfully into the opposite wall.

Her legs turned to jelly, and she couldn’t get up, as shaking overwhelmed her whole body. It felt like her entire central nerves system had just been shut down.

“Oh God”.

~*~*~*~*

The moonlight shimmered off the alley wall, slick from the recent rains. Faith leant her back against it while she took a breather, and listened dimly to the sounds of night in the distance; voices from the bar around the corner, a dog barking frenziedly. She decided she didn’t want to know what had set it off.

Faith wanted to steer fully clear of the apartment while Willow was there. She’d given Buffy and Willow a few hours to sort out their differences and sought out Angel in the middle of his investigation, but suspected it hadn’t taken that long.

There was still too much strain there, and she didn’t want Willow to feel like she was taking her place as Buffy’s friend. So even if the redheaded Wicca was long gone by now, she was playing it safe.

Angel swerved the corner up ahead with preoccupation written all over his face, duster fluttering behind him as he walked, and she inwardly smirked at the whole superhero vibe.

Human or not the dude is serious macho.

She’d had a thing for him once. What girl who had set eyes on him hadn’t? He had the whole creature of the night thing working for him, even if he was technically reformed, and he had a shady past that tainted his nobility, if only a bit. He was the first to admit that nobody was born with a heart of gold, but that it was possible to earn it.

She thought that was what kept her going.

But she’d always been cynical on men, and it had been more about seducing him to hurt Buffy than anything genuine back then. Now, well, she was just glad to consider him one of her best friends.

She pretended to examine her nails instead of having the deep thoughts she was having when he stopped in front of her, and glanced up questioningly.

“Find anything?” she asked.

Despondently, he shook his head. “No one even knew a girl called Angie”.

So far their luck had yet to improve on investigating Angie’s murder. Whoever – or whatever – had done this was no amateur. And the odd tingling in her neck that Faith accounted only to her slayer sense suggested they weren’t finished with whatever was in store.

She just hoped they could find out what it was before it was too late.

Angie’s death had bothered her, but she wasn’t about to think too extensively over it. Faith was intimate with death, that much was automatically a part of the slayer package. It never got any easier.

Faith sighed heavily. “Damn”, she muttered. “I was really hoping this was gonna be a hug and cry and learn and grow kinda deal. Well, I hate to be the wet blanket, but I get the impression we aren’t gonna do any better. Maybe we should just call it a night?”

Even if Willow happens to still be there, she added to herself begrudgingly.

So maybe she had more than a few issues with the girl.

Angel looked reluctant to agree. “I guess. I just don’t like to leave it like this. It’s only creating more questions than answers, and it all leads me to think…”

“ –Something big is happening?” Faith finished grimly. “Got that vibe too. And it’s something we don’t know about. Which, generally speaking, is not good in connection to big things.”

Angel smiled wanly. “We should get back, I suppose”.

“Yeah. Either we’re gonna have one mega-pissed Buffy on our hands, or maybe we’ll get lucky and have the brighter, more upbeat version formerly known as the slayer.”

Angel’s expression impulsively clouded over at the name, perhaps his own built-in self-preservation instinct. “Right”.

Faith rolled her eyes. “No offence or anything Angel, but this second-grader cold-shoulder thing you two have going on is getting old way fast. Even I can call it immature. I thought you talked everything over? It’s not like you being the barer of a heartbeat makes that much of a diff.

“You still love her, don’t you?”

Faith’s acuity surprised him, and he frowned. “That isn’t the issue”, he muttered stiffly, annoyed that his feelings were so transparent.

“It’s totally the issue. You want another. Um, okay, B has an inferiority complex when it comes to the male gender then. Whatever. She has her reasons. Do I even dare speak her friggin’ track record?”

“Point”, he muttered.

Faith smiled in satisfaction as they rounded the corner the led to the apartment. “Exactly. Call me Dr. Laura yet. The punchline of it is, I can count all of the reasons for you not to be together and it wouldn’t fit in a barrel, and you know what? None of it would make much of a difference. Way I figure it, things’ll be back to regular-like in no time…”

She trailed off as the sight of their building came into full view, and motioned forward. “Hey. What is that?”

Angel frowned, narrowing his eyes to squint closer. A dark shape moulded over the front of the door, swaying slightly in the breeze. The pair moved forward cautiously, uncertain as to what to expect.

A body.

Faith bit down hard on her lip when she realised, and the bitter tang of blood hit her tongue. “Oh shit”.

It was D.J. His features were ashen and yellowish, eyes closed. He was suspended on the framework above the porch by his wrists, which were white from the strain of the rope fixed around them, and his shirt was slashed and bloodied. His feet just brushed the floor of the threshold.

Grimly, Angel’s fingers reached gingerly forward, and pressed against his neck. He shook his head against Faith’s questioning gaze.

“He’s dead”, he reported quietly.

Faith closed her eyes.

Angel crouched by the man’s feet, and ran his palm over the wood panels at the bottom of the door. The wood was split down the side, and it was clear it had been forced in. Angel’s face clouded over. D.J. had been on guard duty. He had been dragged from his post, and flaunted out the front of their own HQ as if… what? To prove a point?

“What is this?” Faith demanded. She had evidently made the same connections. “How did they get in? The barrier shields the entire building.”

“Someone took it down”, Angel said flatly.

“What?” the slayer snapped. “That means we’re wide open. Anyone can just wander on in.”

“I think that was the point”, he responded tightly, straightening to his feet.

He strode inside the door, peering warily inside. “Cordy?” he called after a moment. “Wesley?”

No answer.

He strode further inside, senses on full alert. Faith shuffled in behind him.

“Angel”, she hissed. “I don’t think anyone else is in here”.

He waved a hand at her glibly, and stepped carefully into the living room. And stopped.

“Buffy?” Faith asked, voice strangely hollow.

The blonde slayer sat on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chin, face incredibly pale and distraught. Her beautiful green eyes were wide, and she appeared to be in some kind of stunned daze.

Whatever she had seen, it had spooked the slayer horribly.

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