ThrowbackBy Gidgetgirl
Chapter Eleven
Spike stared at the two children in front of him.
The dark haired little girl had her left hand slung casually into the back pocket of her jeans, and he couldn’t help but notice the bright pink flowers stitched on the pant leg. Her stance was confident, her eyes curious, and though she had a soft smile around the corner of her lips, her eyes were guarded and wary.
The little boy’s forehead was knotted up in concentration as he stared at Spike, a dark look settling over his face.
“You’re the dead thing, huh?” The girl said, her smile widening a little, as she leaned in to get a good look at him. Somehow, she’d thought he’d look at little more dead and a little less pretty.
“Dead and British,” the little boy said, still deep in thought, his little forehead wrinkled.
“Who the bloody hell are you two ankle biters?” Spike asked. “And where’s my blood?”
“He wants his sodding blood,” Faith said, mischief sparkling in her eyes. She poked Liam in the side.
Liam was still staring at Spike. “He doesn’t look dead,” he said, his little boy eyes wide.
Faith arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” Faith said. “His hair is pretty damn white. He could be dead.” Faith watched him out of the corner of her eye, to see if he would scold her for using a curse word. After all, he was British, and the only other British person Faith had ever met was Wes, and Wes scolded her all the time.
Faith wasn’t sure, but she thought that maybe that was because she was Wesley’s girl.
Spike, chained up in the bathtub, stared at the child, trying to keep the smile that kept wanting to creep up off of his face at her fierce little expression.
He rolled his eyes instead. “I made my hair this way on purpose,” he said, “and yes, I do want my sodding blood.”
The children stared up at him, saying nothing.
“Why do you want blood?” Liam asked, curiously. “Are you going to paint something with it?”
Spike stared at him incredulously. “No,” he said dryly.
“Are you going to throw it at someone?” Faith asked. That sounded like fun.
“No,” Spike said, amused and really not wanting to be. The hairs on the back of Faith’s head stood up, and she narrowed her eyes at Spike. Something about him didn’t feel right, but something about him felt nice, too.
“Are you going to wench someone with it?” Liam asked, his eyes wide.
“Wench someone?” Spike asked. “How exactly do you wench someone?”
Faith raised an eyebrow at him in a very adult way. “You know,” she said. “You wench them. Or maybe you’d wanker them.” Faith pondered that for a moment.
“Wanker,” Liam said, remembering the new word and how much fun it was to say. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh….”
Faith grinned, knowing exactly what was coming.
“This is the wanker song,” Liam sang. “It’s a song about wankers. And wenches. And sheep with crossbows. Wanker, wanker wanker. Wench, wench, wench.”
When Liam started up the second verse, Faith joined in. “Ohhhhhhhhhh…” they both sang together, keeping their voices low enough that the adults outside in the living room didn’t hear them.
It was then that Spike realized what it was exactly that had been bothering him about these children. They smelled familiar. The little boy smelled like family. He smelled like Angel.
As he stared at the children, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that there was a distinct chance that the little boy was his grandsire, Spike caught himself humming the tune under his breath.
Faith, bored with the song, ventured toward the end of the shower that had the faucet. Still singing under her breath, she leaned in and turned it on. Ice cold water streamed out of the shower head, hitting Spike in the face.
He sputtered through the water.
“Turn that off,” he growled.
Faith stood, frozen to the ground.
“Mommy?” Faith whispered. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted Mommy to wake up or not. Sometimes Mommy was angry when she woke up, but Faith was fast most of the time, and if she could just be good enough, Mommy wouldn’t be angry any more.
“Mommy,” she said again, tentatively.
Why was Mommy asleep in the bathtub? There was water. So much water. Red water.
“Mommy?”
“Faith, he looks awfully funny wet, huh?” Liam said. Spike was drenched and grimacing underneath all of the water that was hitting him.
“Hey Faith?” Liam said again, trying to get her attention.
The little girl didn’t respond.
Liam came to stand beside her, and he leaned in and turned the water off. Spike opened his mouth to yell out the indignity of being chained up in a bathtub and teased by small children, but something in Faith’s expression stopped him.
“You okay, Platelet?” he asked, sounding concerned despite himself and having no idea where the casual term of endearment came from.
Faith looked at him. “Why was Mommy sleeping in the bathtub?” she asked.
For a moment the room was silent, and in the silence, Spike panicked. “How bout we sing again?” he asked, not even realizing that he was giving in to the pull he felt toward the children.
Liam stood next to Faith and put his hand in hers. He didn’t say anything, but silently, he told her that it would be all right.
“I’ll start,” Spike continued awkwardly. “Ohhhhhhhh…” He paused for a moment, wondering exactly what to sing. “Bloody helllllll…” he dragged the word out, and the two children looked at him. They seemed to have a thing for curse words. “This is a song about the Big Bad,” Spike sang.
“Was he big and bad?” Liam asked, breaking into the song. “And were there sheep? With glaives?”
“Or pudding?” Faith whispered, her voice barely audible.
Spike shrugged, deciding that the children were at least as entertaining as Passions. He continued singing, and before he knew it, both children had climbed into the bathtub and up onto his lap.
“So,” Cordelia said, still trying at conversation. “How’s the new boyfriend?” She paused a moment, and Buffy and Giles said nothing, still staring at her. Cordelia persevered. “I hear he’s not, you know…” Cordy trailed off, and she brought her index fingers up next to her mouth and made a face, using her fingers as two ridiculously large fangs.
“No,” Buffy said, clearly wishing Cordy would stop trying to make conversation.
“Well that’s good,” Cordy said brightly. “You’re alive, and he’s alive, and you’re both…”
She trailed off.
“Alive?” Giles supplied dryly.
Cordelia shrugged. “I was going to go with shockingly abnormal in a J. Crew kind of way, but…” she trailed off, ready to kill Wes for leaving her here alone. She wasn’t the person they thought she was anymore, but somehow, every time she opened her mouth, Queen C took control of her tongue.
“It’s like a vicious tongue demon,” Cordy muttered under her breath.
Giles and Buffy looked at her, clearly clueless.
“Evil puppy,” Cordy said suddenly, snapping her fingers. “Oh, not good, evil puppy.” She looked around. “Where’d Liam and Faith go?”
“The consistent answer to that question is somewhere they’re not supposed to,” Wes said, entering the room and rubbing his temples slightly.
“Spike,” everyone in the room said at once.
They raced for the bathroom. Buffy flung open the door, ready to tear Spike’s arms off and beat him with them if he’d hurt Angel Version 4.0.
Buffy stopped in her tracks the moment her eyes saw the scene. It took a minute for it all to penetrate her brain.
Faith and Liam were sitting in Spike’s lap, completely disregarding the chains with the innocent acceptance of small children, and Spike appeared to be telling them a story.
“And then,” Spike said, his voice animated, “the prince and the princess ate the knight, and they all lived happily ever after. With blood.”
“Yay!” Faith and Liam said together, clapping their hands and looking adoringly at the bleach blond vampire.
Cordelia groaned, as if Liam and Faith weren’t violent enough already. They so didn’t need stories about eating people. She could already see the frequency of their stabbing activity skyrocketing.
“Out,” Wes told Faith and Liam sternly.
“But Mr. Spike was going to play Big Bad with us,” Liam said, wheedling.
Buffy stared at Spike incredulously. Spike, still sopping wet, tried to look evil, but failed miserably.
“I want the two of you out of that tub and in the living room now,” Wes said. The children didn’t move, and Wes raised one eyebrow at them in warning. Quickly, the climbed off of Spike’s lap and out of the tub.
Giles looked at Wes, impressed. He’d been under the impression that no one could control the Destructive Duo.
“Can we come back to visit Mr. Spike later?” Liam asked, having taking an incredible liking to the blond vampire.
Faith looked up at Buffy and grinned. “You’re right,” she told Spike. “She does look like a little blonde Happy Meal with legs.”
Wes bent down and swooped Faith into his arms, ready to put his face next to hers and scold her in a way that made it quite clear that he wasn’t pleased with her behavior.
Beneath his touch, she shivered, and as soon as he held her in his arms, she snuggled up against her body. Her little heart was still racing. Wes looked at Spike. He could sense that something had shaken Faith and shaken her badly. Almost unconsciously, he hugged the child. His girl.
“If you hurt her- hurt them,” he said softly, his voice dangerous, “I will kill you.”
“I didn’t touch her,” Spike said. “I’m not the one who hurt her, and unless your head is planted firmly up your ass, you damn well know it.”
Cordelia cleared her throat and gave Spike a very pointed look. He rolled his eyes.
“Unless your head is planted firmly up your rear end, you darn well know it,” he corrected himself.
Cordelia nodded, satisfied. No one used language like that around the kiddos on her watch.
Wes looked at Faith and then at Liam. Liam groaned. He knew that face. That was lecture face. Liam squirmed just looking at it, hoping that Wes didn’t decide to make good on his perennial thrashing promise.
Faith placed her hand flat on Wesley’s cheek, and her other hand crept into her mouth again.
“Mommy was asleep in the bathtub,” she whispered.
“What?” Buffy asked, something like alarm entering her voice. Faith buried her head in Wesley’s arm.
“Go away,” she said, her words muffled through Wesley’s sleeve. “Why don’t you all just go away.”
Wanting to fill the awkward silence that followed, Liam tugged on Buffy’s shirt. “Do you know the Wanker Song?” he asked.
All of the adults in the room looked at the vampire chained up in the bathtub. Like many things in life, they were convinced that somehow, this was entirely Spike’s fault.
Kate hung up her phone. The officers she’d sent by Angel Investigations had reported back that there was no one in residence, and that the investigations agency itself had been temporarily shut down.
“Angel,” she murmured, under her breath, “what are you up to?” She knew he was connected with the murderer they were looking for: a woman from Sunnydale, who answered to the name of Faith.
“I think that you and I may be looking for the same thing,” a voice said smoothly, causing her to look up.
She narrowed her eyes at the handsome man who stood before her. He was a lawyer. She didn’t trust lawyers. He worked for Wolfram and Hart, and that made things that much worse.
More than anything else, he was a man, and Kate Lockley did not trust men.
As Lindsey prepared to pump the detective for information about Angel’s whereabouts, and that of the assassin slayer he’d sent after Angel, he pushed back the words that were pumping through his head along with the beat of his heart.
Are you a good man?
By the time Wesley and Cordelia had gotten the kids settled in the living room, and Giles had gotten Spike settled in the bathtub with his blood, Buffy was starting to have second thoughts about what she’d just volunteered to do.
Baby-sitting couldn’t be that hard, could it?
As the thought passed through her brain, a flesh colored streak ran by her.
“What was that?” Buffy asked.
Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning them. “I believe that was Liam,” he said. Then he gestured to the chair Liam had previously been sitting in. “And I believe those are Liam’s clothes.”
Cordelia smiled brightly, trying to look for a way to make the situation less awkward as Wes chased after Liam.
“Did we mention he’s a streaker?”
Chapter Twelve
Wes spread the information he had out on the table. He sighed and rubbed his temples.
“Working on the reversal spell?” Cordy asked, coming into the room, her voice low. In her arms, she carried a sleeping Liam, his body limp and a soft baby smile on his face. He looked so angelic that Wes practically snorted. Reaching up and pushing Liam’s baby wisps of hair out of his face absentmindedly, Wes shook his head.
“No,” he said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. “Not exactly.”
Cordelia looked at the papers on the table. “Okay,” she said. “You know It?” Cordy asked. Wes was clueless as to what she was talking about. “I am officially not getting It,” Cordy said.
Wes cleared his throat. “Faith’s file,” he said. “It’s everything The Council knew about her. Shockingly little, actually.” Wes looked down. “I was her Watcher.”
“Don’t go getting all guilt-like on me,” Cordy said. “Kids can smell guilt, and the last thing we need is for Search and Destroy to figure out you feel all bad about the way things went with adult Faith.”
Even as she said it, Cordelia heard her own voice saying one of the many insults she’d thrown in Faith’s general direction. She adjusted Liam in her arms.
“But I want to wench the wanker, you bloody sodding fool,” the little boy murmured.
Cordy sighed a very aggrieved sigh. “That reminds me. Someone really needs to stake Spike, even if he is still a puppy. An evil puppy is still…” Cordy trailed off for a moment.
Not this again, she thought.
“Someone needs to stake Spike,” she said more firmly, even though she had no intention of staking Spike. He irritated Buffy far too much to be dusted.
“Duly noted,” Wes mumbled, looking down at the papers. According to the Council’s records, Faith had been in various foster homes from the time she was four and a half until her calling at age fifteen. The records said nothing about her life before the age of four.
“Waaaaahhhhh-taaaaaaaa!” Cordy and Wes both jumped at the sound of the high pitched battle cry. Liam slept through it, having a little boy’s capability of sleeping through anything and everything.
“Faith,” Wes said, his eyes widening. “I thought you were watching her.”
Cordy shook her head. “Giles said he’d look after her for a few minutes while I came up here to put Liam down.”
Thinking about the fact that Giles had been left to the mercy of a four year old whirlwind with super strength, Wes raced down the stairs, and Cordy followed, Liam still snoozing blissfully unaware in her arms.
They arrived in the kitchen on Buffy’s heels.
“What happened?” Buffy asked, looking around the room. The floor was covered with water, a bar of soap had been smooshed into the floor, and Giles was lying on the floor, looking quite dazed.
The Watcher shook his head for a moment and then shot a disgruntled look at Wes and Cordelia.
“You failed to mention that Faith had retained her slayer powers,” he said, wincing a little as he stood up.
Wes, feeling an insane urge to laugh, knelt down to Faith’s level. “Did you hurt Mr. Giles, Faith?” he asked sternly.
Faith batted her eyelashes innocently at Wesley and then turned to glare at Giles. “He tried to make me eat soap!” she said indignantly.
Wes, Buffy, and Cordelia turned their glances to Giles. Giles, looking a little flustered, explained. “She was using vulgar language, and I told her that if I had said something like that as a child, I would have had my mouth washed out with soap.”
Picturing a little Giles cursing made Buffy bite down on her lips to keep from smiling.
“And?” Wes asked, having trouble picturing Giles actually trying to wash Faith’s mouth out with soap. The older Watcher simply wasn’t that aggressive.
“And,” Giles said, glaring at Faith. “I believe her exact response was ‘I’d like to see you try…’” Giles trailed off, feeling awkward repeating Faith’s words out loud. “Pussy,” he said, arching his eyebrows a bit.
“You know, Giles,” Buffy said, “that’s gotta be one of the top ten things I never thought I’d hear you say, right after ‘I’ve always wanted to have a threesome’ and right before ‘that Britney Spears is extremely talented.’”
Faith tilted her head to the side and looked at Buffy. “What’s a threesome?” she asked curiously.
“Nevermind,” everyone in the room said at once.
“Threesome,” the sleeping Liam murmured. “Waaaaaa-taaaaaaaah.”
“Waaaaaa-taaaaaaah!” Faith echoed.
Wesley cleared his throat and gave Faith a stern look. “You don’t hurt people,” he said firmly. Faith shrugged, and he gripped her shoulders firmly. “I mean it, Faith-girl,” he said, “when someone’s weaker than you are…”
Giles harrumphed.
“… you don’t hit them just because you’re strong.”
“But that sodding wanker was going to make me eat soap,” Faith said fiercely, digging her toe into the kitchen floor.
Wes gave Faith an even look. “Do you want me to wash your mouth out, young lady?” he asked. He couldn’t believe that he’d just used the phrase ‘young lady.’ Faith was turning him into a father.
Faith shook her head sullenly.
“Then apologize to Giles and watch your language,” Wes said firmly.
Faith turned to Giles. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. Cordy gave Faith a warning look over Liam’s sleeping head. Faith sighed. “Sorry I called you a pussy and hurt you ‘cause you’re weaker than me,” Faith amended.
Then she looked at Wes and Cordy. “Happy?” she asked them.
“Ecstatic,” Wes said dryly. Stubbornly, Faith turned toward him and held her hands up silently. Without even thinking about it, Wes picked her up into his arms. She snuggled against his chest, and Wes turned his attention to Giles.
“Terribly sorry about that,” he said.
Buffy cleared her throat. “I know I said I’d babysit for you guys while you went to do the researchy thing, but…”
She trailed off.
Wordlessly, Cordy transferred Liam to Buffy’s arms. “It’s break time for Cordy,” she announced, leaning over to kiss the top of Liam’s head. “I’ve got a manicure appointment.”
Wes cleared his throat. “And I’m going on a little trip,” he announced. He had every intention of looking into Faith’s past himself. There was something about the woman they’d all missed, and having met the girl, he wanted to know what it was.
Faith looked at him, alarmed. “You’re leaving?” she asked in a whisper.
Wes turned her around in his arms so that they were facing each other. “I’m coming back,” he said. “Cordy, Buffy, and Giles will take good care of you.”
Faith wasn’t so sure about that.
Buffy shot a pleading look at Giles.
“I have some…er… some outside research to do,” Giles said. “I’m sure you can handle the two of them far better than I can. After all, you have slayer strength as well.”
A new though occurred to Buffy, and she looked at Angel. “Is he, you know…?” she trailed off.
“He’s mine,” Faith announced firmly. “My Liam.”
“He’s not all fangy, if that’s what you mean,” Cordy said.
“My Liam,” Faith reiterated. She didn’t want Buffy to get any ideas.
Buffy shot an annoyed look at the child.
“You know,” Cordy said under her breath so that no one but Buffy could hear her, “she’s just a little kid, Buffy, and there’s stuff there you don’t even want to know about. You might think about that. She’s just a kid.”
Buffy blanched for a moment, and shifting Liam in her arm, she smiled at Faith. “We’re going to have lots of fun while Wes and Cordy are gone,” she said brightly.
Faith smiled, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Wesley and Cordelia groan. “You know,” the little girl said. “I think we are.”
Right then, Buffy decided to call for reinforcements.
An hour later, Liam was awake, filled with energy after his nap, and insisting on going to see his Uncle Spike.
“Uncle Spike?” Buffy asked. Somehow, that just seemed wrong.
“Yes,” Liam said. “He tells great stories about eating people and blonde haired bints who can’t resist the Big Bad.” Liam’s eyes got wide just thinking about it. “And he says hell and ass a lot,” Liam continued. Buffy gave him a warning look. “‘He says ‘hell’ and ‘ass,’ a lot” Liam corrected himself, using air quotes. He’d seen Cordelia use them before.
Faith giggled. “I like Uncle Spike, too,” Faith said. “He’s not a ‘bloody’ ‘sodding’ ‘pussy’ ‘ass.’” The little girl made liberal use of air quotes. She and Liam burst into giggles. They’d found a way around the no bad words rule.
“No more air quotiness,” Buffy said firmly. “None.”
Faith and Liam grinned at each other.”
“‘Okay,’” they both said at the same time, using air quotes.
The doorbell rang. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. Her reinforcements were here. Xander, Willow, Anya, and Riley trooped into the room.
“Hello, small people with grubby fingers,” Anya said cheerfully. She turned to Xander. “The little girl is cuter,” she said loudly, turning to Xander, “although they’re both relatively aesthetically pleasing for small humans.”
Xander looked at the kids, feeling a little awkward. He’d never liked Angel, and he had a history he would have rather forgotten with Faith.
Liam grinned up at him. “Do you know any stories?” Liam asked cheerfully.
“Do you know any songs?” Faith asked.
“Do you know the wench song?” they both asked together.
Xander looked around the room for a second. Was he supposed to know a song about wenches?
“Sure,” he said, thinking on his feet. “Ummmm… this is the wench song,” he said, half-singing, half-speaking and sounding very awkward. “It’s a…ummmmm… song about wenches and… umm… Cheetohs.” Riley rolled his eyes at Xander. Who did he think he was kidding?
“Cheetohs?” Willow asked, giving Xander a strange look.
Little Liam and Faith beamed up at Xander. Finally. Here was an adult who knew how to sing properly.
For a moment, the room was silent, and then Faith spoke up. “What’s a threesome?” she asked, still pondering Buffy’s words from earlier.
Anya’s eyes lit up. “Well, small inquisitive child,” she said, “a threesome is when…”
“Anya!” Buffy and Xander said at once.
“We will talk later, little Faith-shaped one,” Anya said.
In that moment, Buffy knew she was in way, way over her head.
Chapter ThirteenThe car was silent except for the music Lindsey had turned on out of habit the moment he had climbed into the driver’s seat.
He turned onto the highway, looking into the rear view mirror and catching sight of Kate’s face as she did so.
Her jaw was firmly set, her eyes hard. She was a cop, Lindsey decided, maybe even more than he was a lawyer.
Are you a good man?
He turned the radio up louder, drowning out the little girl’s voice in his head.
She’d told him her name was Faye, but the longer he thought about it, the more firmly he knew that he’d met the child before, or more precisely, he’d met the woman-child before. Faith.
He wondered what exactly Detective Beautiful in the passenger seat was going to say when she found out her suspect wasn’t even waist-high.
“I know a game,” Liam said solemnly.
“So do I,” Xander countered. “My game is called feed Uncle Xander Cheetohs.”
Liam considered it for a moment and then wrinkled his nose suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like very much fun,” he said.
“Sure it does,” Xander said, putting enthusiasm in his voice, “it’s almost as fun as playing Be Uncle Xander’s Minion.”
“Xander!” Willow said.
“What?” Xander asked, shrugging. “Like I’m ever going to get this chance again, and come on, why are evil people the only ones who get minions? Just once, I’d like to see a happy, skippy minion.” Xander took a sip of his orange soda.
“Whatsa minion?” Little Faith asked, breaking away from her conversation with Anya for a moment. “Is it like mission…missiona…” Faith looked to Anya for help.
“Missionary position, Faith-esque child,” Anya supplied brightly, obviously pleased with her pupil. Xander choked on his orange soda.
“I know a game,” Liam repeated, a slight, brooding expression settling over his face at the fact that no one was paying attention to him. He didn’t care about any stupid missionary position anyway.
Buffy knelt down next to Liam and looked into his darkly fringed eyes. “What’s your game?” she asked, smiling at him.
Immediately, Faith’s attention was on Liam. “What’s your game?” she asked, not wanting to be left out. He was her Liam after all.
“My game,” Liam said, “is about sheep.”
Xander gave the room an incredulous look. “Remind me to ask big Angel what’s up with the sheep fetish,” he said. Then he thought about it for a second and shuddered. “Actually,” he said, “remind me not to ask big Angel about the sheep fetish.”
“Sheep are fluffy,” Liam said, “and they can fight real good, like fruit loops.” In his four year old mind, it all made perfect sense.
“Inflatable sheep,” Anya piped up.
“An,” Xander said patiently, “remember when we talked about inappropriate conversations for young children?”
“Nothing sexually explicit or permanently damaging,” Anya said clearly. Then she stared at Xander. “Sheep aren’t explicit,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Willow blushed, suddenly understanding the inflatable sheep reference. In the corner of the room, Riley looked uncomfortably stiff.
“So,” Liam said, gesturing widely and explaining his game, “there are three sheep, and they all say baaaa and they always have to be touching each other.” Liam made up the rules as he went along. “And there are a bunch of… a bunch of…” Liam stalled as he thought.
“Cows?” Faith suggested.
Liam nodded vigorously. “Cows,” he said. “And the cows have to close their eyes, and the blue cows--”
“There are blue cows?” Riley asked from the corner, amusement entering his voice. Little Liam glared at him. He did not like the big man. He was kind of hoping Uncle Spike would eat him, because then, Uncle Spike wouldn’t be hungry anymore and he could have lots of sodding blood, and then there wouldn’t be a big man anymore. Liam thought that sounded like a good plan, and he filed it away in the back of his mind for future reference.
“Blue cows,” Faith said with an affirming nod. The big man was looking at her kind of weird. He smelled like Buffy, and that made him scary, because Buffy smelled nice even though she was angry, and that was bad.
Faith was bad. BAD.
Liam jabbed her in the side, and without thinking about it, she took a step toward him.
“Blue cows,” Buffy reminded Liam, amused and wondering what kind of game the creative little boy Angel had been would come up with.
Liam nodded. “The blue cows have to try to catch the sheep,” he said, “and the pink cows try to catch the blue cows, and the sheep try to catch the pink cows.”
“Back up the cow wagon there,” Xander said, trying to wrap his mind around the rules of the game. “So the pink cows and the blue cows have their eyes closed, and the sheep have their eyes open, but they have to always be touching each other…”
“And they can’t walk,” Liam said. “They have to roll and crawl and stuff.”
Faith nodded. This all made perfect sense.
“And the pink cows chase the blue cows and the blue cows chase the sheep and the sheep chase the pink cows,” Willow said. Then she paused and grinned. “That’s a lot of cows.”
“Let’s play,” Liam said. The scoobies looked at each other for a moment, hesitantly, and Riley came to stand next to Buffy. Buffy stood up, and Riley wrapped an arm around her.
Liam growled at him softly.
“Did he just growl at me?” Riley asked, completely disconcerted.
“No,” Buffy said quickly, giving Liam a warning look. “Strong wind.” Silently, Buffy cursed herself. What kind of lame excuse was ‘strong wind’ when they were inside the house and wind wasn’t very growl-y anyway?
“So,” Willow said brightly, “how about this game playage?”
Liam looked darkly at Riley. “Okay,” the little boy said finally, a smile coming over his face. “We’ll play. Me and Faith and Buffy, we’re sheep. And Anya---”
Anya cut him off. “I want to be a pink cow,” she said dreamily.
Xander looked at her closely. “Is it wrong if I’m turned on by that?” he asked.
“Xander!” Buffy scolded.
“Anya can be a pink cow,” Liam said decisively.
“With Riley,” Faith said, suddenly inspired. She grinned wickedly.
“What?” Riley asked. He smiled at the kids.
“You don’t want me to be a pink cow,” Riley said, feeling ridiculous as he flashed the kids a cheesy-sensitive Iowa farm boy grin. “How about I be a blue cow instead?”
Both children shook their heads firmly.
“No,” Liam said. “Pink cow.”
And that, was that.
Half an hour later, Liam was still making up rules to the game, and Xander was relishing the fact that his team was beating Riley’s team, according to Liam, eleventeen to nothing.
“This time, the blue cows sing,” Liam said.
“Sing me, Mommy,” Faith said.
“Damn brat,” her mother mumbled.
Faith climbed into her lap. “Sing me,” she said again.
Her mother shoved her onto the floor.
Faith climbed back into her lap. “Love you,” she said simply in her not-yet-two baby speak. She’d heard Sarah’s mommy tell her that.
Faith’s mother shoved her to the floor, and this time, Faith cut her knee on broken glass.
“Do you love me now?” her mother asked. Her mother’s face crumbled. “Do you love me now?” she asked again, half desperate, half raging. “Do you?”
Faith inched toward Liam, and since she, Liam, and Buffy were lying on the floor next to each other as Liam had dictated they had to do because they were sheep, Faith unconsciously moved toward Buffy, too.
“Yes, blue cows have to sing,” Liam said. “That’s the rule.”
“You’re just making up the rules,” Xander said.
“Am not,” Liam argued.
“Are too,” Xander said.
“But you like singing,” Faith said softly, a desperate and haunted tone entering her voice. Buffy looked down. The child was practically in her lap, and Buffy could see that Faith’s little body was completely tense. Cordelia had said that Faith was dealing with stuff that Buffy couldn’t even imagine, and Faith’s own words echoed in Buffy’s head. Why is Mommy asleep in the bathtub?
Tentatively, Buffy reached down a hand and gently rubbed small circles on the little girl’s back. Faith looked up at her, and the surprise, mistrust, and masked awe in the child’s eyes made Buffy flinch. This Faith wasn’t the woman Buffy had known. She was a child, an innocent, and Buffy hadn’t quite realized it until this moment.
“But I’m a blue sheep,” Willow said suddenly, panic entering her voice as she realized that her group was the group that was supposed to sing under Liam’s new rule. “I can’t sing. I don’t do the singing thing. There will be absolutely no Willow singing. No how, no way, no sir-ee, bub.”
“Who’s Bub?” Liam asked.
Faith pointed at Riley. “I think he is,” she said.
“I’m not Bub,” Riley protested.
“Sure, Bub,” Faith and Liam replied at the same time. Buffy stifled a grin. It was nice to see Riley flustered like this.
“No singing,” Willow protested again. “Never.”
Five minutes later, Willow and Xander were singing with their eyes closed, trying to find the Buffy-Liam-Faith complex that was making a poor effort at crawling around on the floor, and Riley and Anya were wandering around with their eyes closed, saying nothing.
“Come on,” Buffy told little Faith and Liam, “let’s go get him.” She steered them toward Riley and away from the singing blue cows.
“This is me singing about blue cows and blue cow things and blue cow-y stuff and ummm …” Willow trailed off, at a loss as to what to sing next.
“Sing about wenches or wankers or blood or ketchup,” Liam called out helpfully.
Willow followed the direction of his voice. After all, she was a blue cow, and blue cows were supposed to catch sheep. Those were the rules of Liam’s Game.
Giggling fiercely, Faith, Liam, and Buffy made their way to Riley, and Faith reached out and tagged his leg. “We got him!” she yelled joyfully.
Buffy, Liam, and Faith collapsed into laughter on the floor, the little ones rolling around on top of Buffy like puppies in a litter.
Riley knelt down and pressed a kiss to Buffy’s cheek.
Xander, Willow, and Anya opened their eyes just in time to see Liam sink his teeth into Riley’s calf.
“Yeeeeooooow!” Riley screeched.
“Yeeeeooooow!” Faith echoed joyfully, pleased with the sound.
Liam spat on the floor.
“Liam,” Buffy said sharply.
“But he tastes bad,” Liam insisted, thinking she was yelling at him for spitting.
“You don’t bite people,” Buffy said, giving the little boy a look.
Liam, well accustomed to looks, was quite impervious to them by now.
“How bad did he taste?” Faith asked.
“Standing right here,” Riley reminded her. Faith paid no attention to him whatsoever.
“Worse than Wesley’s pudding,” Liam said, and he stuck his tongue out of his mouth and raked his fingernails down it.
Xander started laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” Willow said, cracking up, “this is bad. Very bad and not funny.” The wicca couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Wesley made pudding?” Buffy asked, distracted for a moment.
Faith and little Liam nodded with big eyes. Wes had tried to surprise them, but his pudding had tasted bad. Real bad.
“And he tastes worse than that?” Faith asked incredulously.
Liam nodded and spat on the ground.
“No more,” Buffy told him. “Spitting’s not nice, and neither is biting people. Now tell Riley you’re sorry.”
“You want me to lie?” Liam asked, wide eyed.
“Yes,” Buffy said. “No,” she corrected. “I mean…yes…no…”
“I want my sodding blood,” Spike yelled from the bathroom.
“I WANT MY SODDING BLOOD!” the kiddos echoed.
“You know,” Xander pointed out, “none of this would have happened if we’d played feed Uncle Xander Cheetohs.”
Bedlam was alive and well in Sunnydale.
Chapter Fourteen“If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands,” Willow sang, a little off key.
Liam and Faith stared at her, their expressions completely blank.
“Okay,” she said, “so not so much so with the hand clapping. I can deal with that.” She looked at Xander out of the side of her eye. “Tough audience,” she said.
Faith and Liam turned their attention to Xander, expectantly.
“Booger,” Xander said.
The kids looked at each other for a moment, and then started cracking up.
Xander turned his head toward Willow. “It’s a gift,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Ani,” Faith said quietly, looking up at Anya and pronouncing her name in a distinctly childlike way, “you do something now.”
“Well, tiny human,” Anya said brightly, her eyes wide, “would you like to see a trick Ani can do?” The children nodded. Anya turned to Xander, concentration settling over her face. “I’m going to need a box of tacks, a Frisbee, two pounds of green jello, a bottle of Flintstone vitamins, and an inflatable sheep.”
Xander pretended to think about it for about half a second. “A world of no,” he told her, but as he saw her smiling at him, he detoured from The Sarcastic Island to Happy Xander Land, and his expression softened as he wondered what exactly she had planned for that Frisbee.
Willow looked up at the ceiling, trying not to go to Happy Willow Land.
“If you’re happy and you know it, wench your wench…” Liam sang.
Faith poked Liam in the side. “Sodding blood?” she asked him in a whisper.
He nodded, and the two of them slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving Xander and Anya staring at each other, and Willow staring at the ceiling.
From across the room, Riley raised one eyebrow, as Buffy continued to play the damage control game.
“You can’t take what Angel does seriously,” she said. “He’s just a little boy now.”
“Liam,” Riley said, no humor in his voice, even as his lips turned up in a slight smirk.
Buffy nodded. “Right,” she said, forcing herself to remember that the child’s name was Liam. “And little boys, they bite people, and call people pussies, and try to staple people’s pant legs to the wall all the time.” Riley stared at her. “Not buying it?” she asked him.
Riley shook his head. “No,” he said plainly.
“He’s just a little protective of me,” Buffy said. “When you think about it, it’s kind of cute, in a little kid way.”
“Is playing with knives in Giles’ kitchen cute in a little kid kind of way?” Riley asked.
Buffy’s eyes flew open, and she turned around to see Xander and Anya staring at each other, deeply involved in some kind of incomprehensible conversation about the many uses of Flintstone vitamins, and Willow, her eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably.
“You might want to consider investing in friends a little less distracted by sparkly things,” Riley told her, following her into the kitchen.
“Sparkly things?” Buffy asked, temporarily distracted. Then she shook her head. “All right. Knife. Kitchen. Kids. Watch me focus.” Riley bit back a smile, as Buffy took charge.
“Freeze,” Buffy said, her voice loud. In the living room, Willow, Xander, and Anya froze and looked at each other guiltily.
“Pseudo-Faith? Angel-like child?” Anya called, looking around. “Where did they go?”
The documentation started roughly around Faith’s second birthday. Occasional hospital visits. A broken arm from falling out of her crib. A severe burn on the bottom of her right foot from playing with the stove.
“How exactly does a three year old child burn the bottom of her foot on a stove?” Wesley asked, anger seething through his voice.
That was the sole documentation he had of Faith’s early childhood. Two visits to the local minor emergency room. Aside from the hospital records he’d managed to dig up, he had no other paper work on the slayer until just before her fifth birthday, when she’d been taken into the hospital upon the death of her mother.
Why is Mommy asleep in the bathtub?
Faith’s voice echoed in his ears.
Why is it all red?
Wesley felt his eyes burn with unshed tears at the tarnished innocence he could hear in her voice in his memory.
He muttered an expletive. She’d discovered her mother, wrists slit, dead in a bathtub overflowing with blood-tinted water.
He could see the scene vividly before his eyes. The little girl: dark hair, with dark circles under her eyes and bruises on her scrawny arms, tentatively shaking her mother’s arms. The bathtub, off white porcelain, the water still running.
He had no idea where the image came from, but he knew it was true. His girl.
Ignoring his tearing eyes and the mounting fury inside of his chest, he turned the page.
“Well, Faith girl,” he said softly, picturing her four year old self in his mind. “Let’s see where life’s roads took you next.”
“Hey Liam, catch!” Faith yelled happily. Liam turned, and Faith tossed him a knife, nice and easy. She had to play easy with her Liam. She was stronger than he was, but that was okay, because the Mommy was much stronger than she was – always stronger -, and he kept her away at night, with his singing.
The Mommy hated singing.
Buffy saw the knife flying toward Liam’s head, and she moved as quickly as she could, bolting in front of him to catch it. She turned to glare at Faith.
“You do not throw knives,” she said, her voice horrible and low.
I don’t care, Faith told herself right away. She can yell and she can hit, and I don’t care.
“But Buffy, we throw knives all the time,” Liam said. “Sometimes we catch them…”
Buffy knelt down to Faith’s level. “You don’t touch knives,” she said, softening her voice at the forced carelessness in the child’s eyes. She reached out a hand to touch Faith’s shoulder, and Faith flinched visibly.
“…and sometimes, we throw them out windows…” Liam continued on, babbling.
Riley brought his hand to his temple. He was getting a headache.
“You could get hurt,” Buffy said, gentling her voice as much as she could. She could feel Faith trying not to tremble under her finger tips, a sullen look settling over the little girl’s mouth. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”
“… and sometimes, the poodle next door doesn’t like that very much…” Liam babbled on.
Buffy shot a glance at Riley. “Is he still talking about knives?” she asked him. Riley nodded.
“Yup,” he replied.
“Do you understand, Faith?” Buffy asked her. “You don’t throw knives at people.”
“Not even if they’re gonna catch them?” Faith asked, the words catching in her throat a little, her back stinging something awful with the memories of the knife cut that was really her falling down the stairs because she was damn clumsy.
So damn clumsy.
“… and sometimes, we stab things with them. Stab-stab-stab…”
“No stab,” Buffy said firmly, turning to look at Liam, pulling Faith closer to her in a casual hug.
“Stab,” Liam said, wrinkling his brow a little.
“No stab,” Buffy said.
Faith met Liam’s eyes. “Stab,” they both chorused at once.
“No…” Buffy cut herself off. This was ridiculous. How was it that she, her boyfriend, and three of her friends were completely incapable of watching two not-quite-ordinary four year olds?
Faith saw the moment of weakness, and, snuggling up to Buffy, she went for it. “Can we bring Spike his sodding blood?” she asked. “Please?”
“We’ll be really good,” Liam promised. “No stabbing.”
Buffy sighed. What was the worst thing that could happen?
Chapter Fifteen
“You two stay right here,” Buffy said firmly. “I’m going to go have a talk with ‘Mr. Spike’ before you go in there.”
“Can I hold the blood while you’re gone?” Liam asked, his eyes wide. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but Buffy couldn’t make herself do it.
“Watch him,” she ordered Xander and Riley, and carefully, she handed the cup of blood to Liam.
Faith inched toward Liam, who got to hold the blood because nobody hated him.
Liam smelled the blood. “Smells like band-aids,” he declared, with his characteristic cheerful grin.
Immediately, Faith and Liam met eyes, and an unspoken message passed between them. “We want band-aids,” they chorused at once.
“What?” Riley asked, surprised to hear Liam saying anything that wasn’t some variety of ‘grrrrrr,’ the wench song, or ‘stab-stab-stab.’
“Band-aids,” Liam piped up. Glaring at Riley, he put on what passed in his four year old mind for a manly voice. “Me and Faith want band-aids,” he said, his mouth now set in a firm line.
Xander looked at them and then shrugged and looked at Riley. “You heard the man,” he said in a goofy, booming voice. “Band-aids!”
By the time she was done with Cordelia’s right hand, the manicurist was getting tired of hearing about the woman’s two ‘adorable’ hellion children. By the time she was done with Cordy’s left hand, the woman was learning to hate the name ‘Liam,’ and by the time she was halfway done with the pedicure, she’d begun to shudder every time she heard the words ‘sheep,’ ‘wench,’ and ‘glaive.’
What kind of kids did this woman have, anyway?
Cordy shifted in her seat, wondering how the Scoobies were doing looking after Liam and Faith. She glanced down at her watch. Was it her, or was this pedicure taking an awful long time?
“If you do anything to hurt either of them,” Buffy said, fixing her eyes on Spike.
“I know, I know, you’ll stake me good and proper,” Spike said. Buffy glared at him. Spike gave her a disgusted look. “I’m chained up in a bathtub, Slayer,” he said mildly, gesturing with his eyes toward his chains. “What do you think I’m going to do to the nibblets? Stare them to death?”
Buffy steeled herself against the fact that he had a good point. “You won’t call them nibblets, or platelets, or munchies, or anything food-related,” she said. “You won’t say any bad words around them. You won’t tell them bloody stories.”
Spike yawned, giving her a bored look.
“You won’t let them kill themselves,” Buffy said.
A crash from the kitchen had her jumping.
“Looks like you’re doing a bang up job of it yourself, Slayer,” Spike said, a smirk on his face.
Buffy pointed her index finger at him sternly, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Another crash from the kitchen had her running out of the bathroom and towards the sounds of the kiddos’ laughter.
Kate glanced at Lindsey, not letting herself feel anything towards him. He was a means to an end, a way to Sunnydale. A way to catch a murderer, an animal. A woman without a soul.
As a detective, Kate Lockely was first rate. She had no pity for the criminals, and no fear of their crimes. This Faith woman was no different. She would catch her and lock her up, like the animal she was.
Kate glanced at Lindsey again and then looked quickly out the window when he turned to look at her. As a detective, she was first rate. As a woman, she wasn’t, and Kate was willing to live with that. She didn’t want to be anything else, didn’t want to feel.
Lindsey looked at her for a moment, and she felt his gaze on her face.
A small smile crept onto Kate’s face. She’d get the criminal, like always, and maybe this time, though she didn’t even let the thought cross her mind, she’d get the guy as well.
“Oh, Faith.” Wesley’s voice was soft as he read through her file. She’d been called sullen, a rebel. An attitude problem. Shuffled from foster home to foster home from the time she was four until she was nine, when she had finally settled down in a group home, with good people. By the time she was twelve, she was years behind in school. One foster brother was killed in a fist fight, another sent to juvie on charges of sexual molestation.
Wes pored over the file. It was all so straight-forward, so matter-of-fact. Oh, this child fell through the cracks. Oh, this is the one we lost. No big deal. Can’t win them all. Oh, she found her mother’s body. Oh, no one ever taught her to read. Oh, she spent her formative years without a permanent home or steadfast authority figures. Oh well.
Wes slammed the file closed, haunted by the child he’d held in his arms. His little Faith.
Another crash and the sound of Xander trying to cajole the kids into calming down had Buffy rushing into the kitchen.
“That was great, Faith!” Liam said. “I didn’t know plates made such good Wench-bies.”
Buffy came to a hault, looking at the shattered plates on the floor of the kitchen. Wench-bies? Wench-bies? What in the world was a Wench-bee?
Liam pulled another ceramic plate out of Giles’s cabinet and, with an expert fling of his wrist, sent it flying like a Frisbee to crash into the wall.
“Oh,” Buffy said out loud, a smile on her face. “I get it. Wench-bee. Frisbee.”
“Clever,” Xander said. The kids beamed up at him, and Buffy narrowed her eyes at her friend. Xander put a stern expression on his face. “Clever and wrong,” he amended emphatically.
“Where’d Riley go?” Buffy asked, “and why are they covered with band-aids?”
Xander opened his mouth to answer, but before either of them realized what was happening, Seek and Destroy were making a beeline for the bathroom and dear old Mr. Spike.