part 9

Outside Sunnydale General.
"I'm getting really sick of this place," Willow muttered, crouching in the darkness.
Angel came as close to giggling as, well, Angel could. "Sick, hospital, Get it?"
Willow gave him a look and he silenced himself.
"So this is what you're like with a sense of humor," she said, turning her attention back to the unloading dock.
He cleared his throat. "I thought it was funny."
"Well, we'll work on that."
"Not right now," he said, getting serious. "We've got company."
Indeed they did. Half a dozen vamps had molded out of the dark alleys and were currently awaiting the approach of the delivery truck from the blood bank.
"That's pretty bold of them, isn't it?" Willow remarked, noting how they stood, relaxed and in plain view.
"News about Buffy got out quick."
"Oh. So it's been an undead kegger for the past three weeks?"
"Kind of."
"Thanks for sharing."
"You're welcome."
"Cryptic bastard."
"Love you too."
"Let's go. Remember the plan."
"Got it," He said, sliding his spooky face on.
***
"Hey fellas" Angel said congenially, his arm tight around Willow's leather-clad waist.
"Angeleus?" one of them asked disbelieving. "I thought you were all tormented-soul boy again?"
His yellow eyes flashed. "This little vixen right here changed all that," he said, squeezing her rear end. She made a mental note of that action, and vowed to punish him for it later-- severely. Outwardly, she gave a blank but naughty Drucilla-like grin. The rest of the vampires laughed raunchily.
<Goody> Willow thought. <It's working.>
An ambulance pulled into the bay and two medics popped out. One of them was whistling happily, the other, who obviously had more experience with this job, was glancing around in an uneasy, paranoid fashion. The souless goulies had stepped back into the shadows.
"Evening," Angel said.
"Hey," the innocent one replied, as if they had sat down next to each other in a bar room. "Nice night, ain't it?"
"Earl," the other one barked. "Let's get this done. I wanna get out of here." Willow could see sweat dripping down his fat face.
"Yeah, there's a lot of weirdos around this town at night," Angel said. "Can I give you a hand with that?" He took a beer cooler out of the slack-jawed man's hands.
"Listen," He began nervously. "We're not supposed to--"
"Duck," Angel said, throwing the cooler back at the man. He did as was told, and the container of blood hit the about-to-attack vampire behind him directly in the chest. Willow took a moment to breath in the crisp evening air, then swung into the fray.
She tried to spend as little time as possible on hand-to-hand, preferring to dispatch them as soon as she had a clear shot. As a result, the pavement was littered with three piles of dust very quickly. <How the hell did Buffy do this every night?> she wondered, afraid her heart might stop from pumping pure adreniline.
Angel was still dealing with his first vamp, but winning. Willow couldn't help but hold her breath at the sight of his fluid, masculine movements.
As a result, she lost her guard.
A boot-clad foot planted itself squarly in her stomach and she went down-- hard. She wasn't done yet, though. She simply swung her leg around, effectivly sweeping her opponet to the ground while achieving the leverage she needed to right herself. She stood squarely on his chest, one foot on his neck. It was a move that would suffocate a human in seconds, and painful enough to keep her creature of the night from moving too much.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, obviously pissed off.
She blinked. "I'm Willow," she said briefly, then buried a stake in his heart. She lost her balance as he exploded into pixie dust, and fell, ungracefully, on her ass. The last of the two vampires, not intelligent enough to run, attacked her with a brief, fumbling tackle.
She reached up to roll him so that she would be on top, but her entire vision suddenly went red and it felt like her brain was going to explode.
The vampire's meaty hands gripped her neck, but she barely felt them. Someone was screaming inside her head, screaming and screaming over and over. She felt panicked, and no longer had any control over her senses. Tears blinded her vision. <Make it stop!> she screeched. The vampire's hands tightened on her throat.
Then turned to dust.
Angel's face appeared in place of it. "Willow?" he demanded.
"Faith," she whispered, then fell back on the asphalt, unconcious.
***
"She's in here somewhere," Willow whispered. "I can feel her." She could too, an oily substance in her mind.
Angel nodded, and checked the hallway for nurses. "C'mon."
Willow sought his hand as they hurried down the corridor of the Pshch department. People were simply sitting in chairs drooling and mumbling with blank expressions. She felt revolted, but Angel moved past them as if they weren't there. <Well, he did live with Drucilla for a few decades. . . I guess he got used to it.>
"Wait," she said. "In here."
They entered a small corridor, the end of which held a heavy steel door with one small plate glass window.
Angel peered in, then nodded. "It's her."
Willow stood on her tippy--toes and glanced in. It was Faith alright, but. . .
"I have to hear what she's saying," she said. A quick glance over her shoulders showed that Angel was one step ahead of her; his boots had just dissapeared into the ventalation shaft.
After positioning themselves directly over the interview room, Willow squinted through the slats of an a/c screen.
" . . .out of the ground," Faith was saying. Her voice was cold and irritated. The cigarette burning in her hand was giving off smoke the exact color of her once velvety hair.
"What happened to the Mayor, Faith? Where is he?" one of the doctors asked.
"I told you. It took him."
A sigh, then:"What did?"
"The darkness, you idiot."
"Darkness?"
"Yeah."
"What sort of darkness?"
"I don't fucking know, asswipe," she said. Then, calmer: "Look, this is the straight up truth. The ground opened. Some old-fashioned Sunnydale black mojo rose up and carted Mayor Demon off."
"Mayor what?"
"Demon. Yeah, that's right. he was an immortal germphobic obsesive compulsive demon."
"I see."
"Look: I don't care if you believe this or not. You obviously don't; you're just like the rest of the idiot sheep in this town who are too stupid to see what's going on around them, but you aren't going to be able to keep me here. "
"And why is that?"
Faith grinned. "Because I'm the Slayer."
***
Willow inhaled sharply.
"The what?" the doctor asked calmly.
"The Slayer," she said, getting aggitated.
"And what is a slayer?"
"Not a slayer. THE Slayer. The other one's dead." She took a drag on her ciggarette. She was shaking all over now. "But there's a new one called."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. She's in the ceiling right now, in fact. There's somebody there with her. Probably Angel. He always did have a goddamn hard-on for slayers..." She was shrieking now. The doctor was waving orderlies in. Faith raises her face upwards, and her eyes locked with Willow's. "Do you think I can't fucking see you?! I know you're there! And I know you're going to die! It'll get you too, just like it did Buffy then I'll be the only one! The only one." She cried softly as the needle slid home and a different kind of darkness claimed her.
Breathing heavily, Willow met Angel's eyes. "I think we can go now," she said. . .

Next