Enemy IncognitoBy Wynn
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Saints, Souls, and Scars
It flowed out of her like water slowly spinning down a drain. Inescapable, inevitable, a slave to fate and gravity. Faith could feel the warmth spread beneath her, counteracting the cold that seeped through her, as her blood leaked out of the gash on her throat. The too bright fluorescent lights dazzled her dry eyes. Maybe it was the light at the proverbial end of the tunnel, although Faith doubted she'd be allowed into heaven after all of the sinning she had done.
She dimly heard hushed voices near the door and then a flash of red crossed her line of sight. Willow. Great. Tweedle-Dee arrived to catch the front row seat in her demise, probably thanking all of the goddesses she could think of that the 'Queen Slut of Sunnydale' was biting the big one.
"Xander, she'll be dead before the ambulance gets here. I have to do this."
"But-"
"You said you trusted me. Trusted that I could maintain control."
"I do."
Faith wanted to ask what the big plan was, whether they were planning on dumping her body somewhere so they didn't have to deal with the incompetents at the Sunnydale PD. Her eyes flickered over to Willow, widening slightly at the pure black orbs covering the usual green. Willow glanced down at Faith and lifted her hand, her palm skimming across her face down to her throat. A flash of green exploded through the room and Faith screamed, her cry echoing in her mind as the world swirled and faded into black.
* * *Her skin was damp with sweat, causing the pale blue sheet surrounding her to stick to her skin. Faith opened her eyes, the dream memory slipping back into her subconscious. Peeling the sheet away from her, Faith swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. The Wicked Wicca of the West had saved her life, and Faith couldn't understand why. Willow hated her, Xander hated her, and she lay dying before both of them. All they had to do was wait, tell Anya and Giles there was nothing they could have done to save her, and that would have been the end.
But it wasn't the end.
Faith sighed and pushed off the bed. She crossed the bedroom, stopping before the vanity, and stared into the mirror, at the silver white scar stretching across her neck. Her fingers shook as she lightly traced the length of hardened skin. Her eyes were wide, her skin was pale, her hair a tangled mess around her face. Faith froze at the sight of herself in the mirror before reaching for the wood jewelry box on the vanity and hurling it at the glass. Her reflection shattered into a thousand pieces, tumbled across the dressing table, and fell to the floor.
"Did that make you feel better?"
Willow. Fuck. Faith moved away from the broken mirror, maneuvering around the shards of glass, and walked to the window, peering through the slats at the moonlit backyard of the Summers' house. "Get out."
"Why? So you can destroy more of Joyce's furniture? I don't think-"
"I don't give a rat's ass what you think. Get out before I get really mad."
"I'm not afraid of you."
Faith cocked an eyebrow and turned from the window. Willow stood next to the door, her arms folded across her chest, face impassive, bright green eyes locked onto Faith. "Why? Cause you got a few tricks up your sleeve? Can plug right into the black magic mojo and skin me alive if I get a little frisky?"
A shadow of a smile crossed Willow's face. "Something like that."
"Something like that? Or something like what you did to B?" She smirked as she walked towards Willow. "Kicked her ass all across Sunnydale. Feel like taking on the other Slayer?"
"I didn't come here to fight you, Faith."
"No? Then get the hell out." She returned to the bed and sat down upon the tangled sheets, her back to Willow, her head bent towards the floor. Faith drew a hand through her tangled hair as she stared at her bare feet, all the while feeling Willow's eyes steady upon her, boring twin holes into her back. Jumping to her feet, she whirled and stalked over to Willow. "Is there some reason you're still here? Are you waiting for a thank you? I didn't ask you to save my life. You did that all on your own."
Willow raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, I did. Would you have rather died?"
"Or maybe you want something else? Some sort of… reward for your troubles?" She licked her lips and dragged her dark eyes across Willow. "I don't usually swing that way, but I know it's what gets you off."
"I didn't save you because I wanted something in return."
"Oh yes. Saint Willow. Treading on the dark side not satisfying enough for you? Returning to your holier than thou, innocent do gooder routine?"
"Pretty much." Willow shrugged and walked around Faith, crouching near the vanity and picking chunks of glass off the floor. "There's nothing in the dark but pain and misery and an empty ache inside you where your soul should be. You've got the world at your mercy, the power of life or death in your hands, but that's it. And that's nothing." Dumping a handful of broken glass into the trash can, Willow turned back towards Faith. "You know this. That's why you came back to Sunnydale. To get something other than nothing."
"Do you have a point somewhere in all this? Or are you just trying to bore me to death?"
Willow sighed. "You wanted to know why I helped you. You're trying to do good, and I wasn't going to let some second rate psycho take that away. That's all." She paused. "That and Anya would have turned me into a toad if I hadn't helped you. And frogs are just icky."
A few moments passed. Faith peered at Willow, dark eyes locked on green, her quiet words floating through Faith's mind, and she slowly nodded. Willow shook her head in return and made her way to the door. As Willow crossed the threshold, Faith said, "This doesn't mean we're friends now."
Willow glanced over her shoulder at Faith, a wide grin appearing on her face. "Oh god no. I still hate your guts as much as I ever have."
One corner of Faith's mouth curved into a smile. "Good."
"Good. Scooby meeting in ten." Willow entered the hallway and pulled the door closed behind her.
Drawing in a deep breath, Faith rubbed her hands across her face and brushed her wild hair out of her eyes. She turned to the vanity and began picking up the remaining shards of glass, tossing them into the trash; she retrieved the dented and scratched jewelry box and set it on the dressing table, replacing the scattered rings, necklaces, and bracelets into the velvet lined cavity.
* * *"So?"
"Hold on a minute. I'm still recovering from all the Purple Haze in my brain."
Spike sighed and continued pacing the lobby of the Hyperion. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched Lorne sit down on the circular sofa. The green skinned demon stretched the muscles in his neck and shoulders as he turned towards Spike.
"And may I just say that you have much better taste in music than Angel. I'm still scarred for life from his rendition of Mandy." Lorne shuddered. "That's something I could have gone a few lifetimes without experiencing. Anyway, when I read Angel during that particular horrendous karaoke disaster, I was reading two different entities. The demon and the soul. Granted the soul is dominant within Angel, but the demon is still there, lurking beneath the tasty surface, just waiting for the soul to go bye-bye so Angelus can come out and play."
"And me?"
"And you… there was only one entity. Soul and demon combined together into one spiritual substance I've never seen before. Do you remember what happened when you got your soul back?"
"Pain. Lots of pain. Felt like I had been hit by a truck a few dozen times."
Lorne nodded. "Makes sense. Your soul is bonded to your demon, and it probably altered you physically, changing your body so holy water has no effect, you have a reflection-"
"A blurred reflection."
"A blurred reflection but still a reflection which is more than all of the rest of the evil dead can say. And I doubt crosses would be a problem for you anymore. Basically, all of the things that would harm a soulless vampire are no longer an issue for you."
"What about sunlight?"
Shrugging, Lorne said, "I'm not sure. You're still a vampire, albeit a new and excitingly different one, but my best guess is that sunlight and stakes and fire will kill you just as good as they could have pre-soul."
"So basically I'm an un-unholy vampire?"
"Yep."
"Wonderful. Just call me Saint Spike." He should have known something unexpected would happen. His plans never went how he wanted them to go. Why should he have expected the 'Get-Spike-A-Soul' mission to be any different? Not that this turn of events was unwelcome. As long as these were the only events that had turned and no other changes had been performed by Lurky the Wonder Demon. Sighing again, Spike plopped onto the circular sofa next to Lorne. He groaned, a grimace of pain shooting across his face, as his still tender insides collided with the couch.
"You should probably get back to bed."
"Yeah. Probably should. I'd rather not be carried back by Buffy. That would be bloody embarrassing." Spike paused as he ran his fingers through his hair. Turning his head, he looked at Lorne and said, "Although you'd think she'd lay off a bit. I'm not going to dust if I walk around the hotel. Been around a century and a half. It'll take more than one sodding wood bullet to turn me into a big pile of dust."
Lorne shrugged. "Rationality goes to the wayside when love is involved."
Spike nodded and pushed off the sofa. Rationality takes a flying leap out of reality when love is involved, leading to hysterical, frantic pursuits of one's soul. Halfway to the stairs leading to the second level of the Hyperion, he froze. Spike blinked once and turned back towards Lorne. "Buffy… Love?"
"Mmm-hmm. Although getting shot through the chest really isn't necessary for fuzzy feelings to emerge. With cheekbones like yours, you can't fault the girl for falling in love." The smile faded off Lorne's face as he looked at Spike. He stood and walked towards the stairs, his eyes widening as he drew closer to the shell shocked vampire. "Oh no. You didn't know."
Mute, Spike shook his head as he collapsed upon the stairs.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you didn't know. The way you two were around each other I just assumed…"
That was that look. On her face. The one Spike had never seen before. It was love. The constant hovering, checking to make sure he's Ok; her wearing his shirt and being embarrassed about it, all flustered and flushed; the look in her eyes when she told him not to almost die again. It was love.
Oh god.
* * *"Can we talk?"
Looking up from the book in his lap, Giles glanced at Anya. "Is something the matter? Is Faith-"
"No and fine. Willow's getting her for the meeting. It's about me." Anya looked around the living room, her golden brown eyes darting over the new and old members of the Scooby Gang. A faint frown pulled at her features. "Could we go outside?"
"Yes." Giles stood, closing the volume held in his hands and placing it on the coffee table, and followed Anya through the Summers' house, into the kitchen and out onto the back porch. He eased the door shut behind him and turned towards Anya. "Now-"
"Here."
Giles blinked as her hand shot out towards him. Taking a step back, he looked at the object dangling from her fingers. "Is that…?"
Anya nodded. She twisted her wrist and cupped the silver chain and ancient charm in the palm of her hand. Staring down at the necklace, she said, "My necklace. The source of my powers as a vengeance demon." The jewelry gleamed in the moonlight. She glanced up at Giles, her eyes hidden in shadow, as she said, "I want you to destroy it."
"What? Anya…" He took a step towards her, but she backed away from him, turning and staring up at the night sky.
"I can't do it, Rupert," she said quietly. "I haven't even tried. I've been a vengeance demon for months now and I haven't granted one wish. Haven't sought out one woman seeking vengeance. I haven't even thought about seeking out one woman seeking vengeance."
"Have you thought about this decision? I doubt D'Hoffryn would elevate you again if you destroyed your necklace. You would be human, without the strength a-and powers associated with being a vengeance demon, forever."
"I know. And don't think I'm not going to miss teleportation because it is so much easier than walking or running or public transportation." She paused, tilting her head and looking at Giles over her shoulder. "But the price is too high. I stay a vengeance demon eventually the time will come for me to grant some woman's wish. And the man she wishes against will probably deserve it. But I can't be the one to give it to him. I won't be the one to give it to him. That's not who I am anymore. I have a life here in Sunnydale."
"Yes, you do." Giles stepped next to Anya. She held out the necklace to him again, and he took it, grasping the chain and pendant lightly in his hand. "If I may ask, why me?"
Anya shrugged, a half grin curving her lips. "I don't know. Irony. Fate. You were the one who destroyed my first necklace. Well, not really you. The other alternate universe you. So you in the trans-dimensional sense. But if it wasn't for that other you, I wouldn't be here, living the life I'm living now." She paused. "And I can't smash it myself."
A small smile appeared on his face. He placed the necklace onto the porch railing. The green stone in the pendant glittered from within, the power contained within the tiny gem barely restrained by the delicate silver casing. Giles stepped off the porch and grabbed a large rock from the backyard. Returning to the necklace, he looked at Anya and said, "Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Yes."
He nodded once and lifted the stone high into the air, bringing to down upon the necklace on the railing. The charm crumbled beneath the rock, and Giles' arm shook from the power emission that vibrated through the stone and out into the night. He heard Anya sigh as he tossed the rock over the railing and watched the silver necklace dissolve and fade into nothing.
"Thank you," Anya said as she moved towards him and leaned into him, kissing him beneath the pale light of the moon. Her lips were soft on his, and delicate, pressing lightly against his mouth. She pulled back, her golden eyes seeking out his grey. "Thank you for saving my life."
"I didn't-"
"Yes, you did. And 'you're welcome' is a suitable response to my declaration."
Giles smiled again. "You're welcome."
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