Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

Email: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Buffy, Spike, Giles, and the rest of the characters of BtVS do not belong to me. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, etc. I borrow them for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

AN: Here’s the entire chapter. If you read Part One (posted on Tuesday), then skip the first section. Nothing’s changed. I just added the final two sections after the first.

Just a warning: there is a reference to the murder of a child in the second section. Nothing too graphic (i.e. no blood and guts)

Reviews are wonderful things, so please leave one.

Chapter Nine: Five by Five

By: Wynn

“Faith.”

The name reverberated through the shop, echoing off walls, twisting around the four witnesses to its utterance, an invisible cord capturing all within its web of potential dangers and past deceptions. Faith had returned to Sunnydale.

The rogue Slayer remained by the open door. She watched Buffy, waiting for the blonde to react to her presence, with words, with fists, or with both. Yet Buffy remained mute and still, hazel eyes fixed on Faith. A minute passed, then two with no movement and no sound. Faith glanced from Buffy to Dawn, still rooted next to the metal table, then at Giles, standing calmly and staring at her, before returning her gaze to Buffy. Obviously the first move was up to her.

Faith set her bag on the floor and Buffy edged around the metal table. The blonde Slayer walked towards the center of the room while the brunette moved away from the entrance. They stopped a few paces away from each other, bodies tense with anticipation, the past betrayals returning to the forefront with a vengeance. A veil of lies hung between the two women, the two chosen to harbor the strength and skill to fight the forces of darkness. One light. One dark. Both deadly.

Faith glanced at the papers in her hand. They were her salvation, her proof that she had been released instead of escaped from prison. Returning her gaze to Buffy, she relaxed her stance and stretched out her hand, the papers dangling at the tips of her fingers.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. Her eyes flickered from the documents, to Giles, then back to Faith. A minute passed before Buffy lifted her hand. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the papers when a movement at the back of the bare shop captured her attention. The door to the training room had opened.

Faith turned and saw a black eyed Willow staring at her. Her release papers were snatched out of her hand; they shot across the Magic Box and were plucked out of the air by Willow. She scanned the documents, lips curling in a smirk.

“They let you out of prison?”

Faith folded her arms across her body. “Yeah.”

Willow strolled into the center of the shop as she said, “They shouldn’t have. Not after what you’ve done. You’ve murdered and tortured people. You don’t deserve freedom.”

Faith stiffened. Her eyes hardened and a deadly smirk appeared on her face. “Well, I guess you’re the expert on these things. After all you’ve done some torturing yourself. I have to say skinning a man alive, nice work. Very evil. I didn’t know you had it in you, Willow. *I* don’t have the balls to do something like that, and I’m a convicted-”

Willow’s eyes flashed. Faith flew through the air, crashing into the shop’s front window. Shards of glass rained down on her as she landed on the sidewalk, small chunks of the broken window digging into her back, hands, and thighs. She drew in a few ragged breaths, her dark eyes wide and fixed on the fluffy white clouds that drifted on the morning breeze. “Oh, fuck.” The sound of heels on pavement caused the brunette to sit up. She saw Anya sprinting down the street, followed closely by Xander. As the blonde vengeance demon passed under a streetlight, she teleported, reappearing next to Faith.

“Faith! Are you Ok?” Anya kneeled and brushed a few shards of glass off of her body.

“I’m five by five.”

“What happened?”

Faith groaned as she stood. She examined the jagged edges of the broken window and said, “Pissed Willow off.”

Xander reached the entrance to the shop, out of breath, confusion and concern on his face. “What? What happened? Willow?” He peered into the interior of the Magic Box. His eyes widened as Willow sauntered out of the shop, green eyes blackened from magic.

Buffy jumped through the destroyed window. She stepped in front of Willow, blocking her path to Faith, and said, “Willow, wait.”

“No.” Willow shifted to the right, but Buffy slid in front of her again.

“Don’t do this Willow.”

“Why-”

“Willow.” Giles stood in the doorway, half draped in shadow, half bathed in light, holding a violet crystal in his hand. As Willow turned towards him, he said, voice low and smooth, “Willow, hear my voice. Focus on my voice. I want you to remember. Remember the green room. When I say, you will return to the green room. You will return and shut out all other sights and sounds. Return.”

The crystal glimmered and Willow blinked once, twice. The black faded from her eyes as they drooped shut; her head tilted back slightly and she breathed deeply.

Xander stared at his best friend. “What did you do to her?”

Giles sighed. “I returned her to the state of meditation she had been in. It’s a form of hypnosis, only more powerful thanks to this.” He held up the violet crystal. It sparkled in the brilliant light of day.

Anya stepped close to Giles and examined the shimmering gemstone. “A voltaia crystal. I haven’t seen one of these in two centuries.”

“They are rare. This one has been in my family for generations. We, uh, used it as a paperweight.” His face tightened as he looked at Willow; he removed his glasses and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Xander, could you take Willow to the back and sit her on the sofa? She should be under for the next hour or so.”

Xander nodded and gripped Willow’s slack hand. He pulled on her arm, tugging her forward, and led her back into the building.

“So,” Buffy said, placing her hands on her hips. She faced Faith, who was picking glass shards from the palm of her hand. “How did you know about Willow?”

Anya spoke before Faith could answer. “I told her.”

“You what?”

Anya tore her gaze from the gleaming crystal and directed it towards Buffy. Irritation was evident in her brown eyes. “I told Faith about Willow.”

Placing the crystal in the pocket of his jeans, Giles asked, “When did you, ah, talk to Faith?”

“A few days ago.” Anya glanced at Giles’ crystal laden pocket and frowned. She moved away from him, walking over to Faith and carefully brushing a few slivers of glass from Faith’s hair.

Buffy gaped at the two women. “A few *days* ago? You talked to her a few days ago? And you didn’t think to tell us about it?”

“I thought about it. I just decided not to say anything.”

“You what?”

Giles interrupted the brewing argument. He peered at Faith and Anya. “Where did you two, ah, have the opportunity to talk? In prison?”

Faith and Anya glanced at each other. The blonde shrugged, grimacing as she watched Faith tug on a splinter of glass in her hand. Rolling her eyes, Faith tossed the splinter on the ground and said, “Not exactly. We crossed paths in L.A.”

“In L.A.?”

Anya sighed. “At Angel’s. And before you ask, Buffy, I will not tell you why I was at Angel’s. This interrogation is finished.”

“Anya,” Giles said, “we’re trying to understand why Faith has returned to Sunnydale. This is not an interrogation.”

Faith pointed at the shop. “The answer’s right there.”

Dawn poked her head out of the broken window. She lifted her hand and waved Faith’s release papers in front of everyone. Her long legs arched over the jagged window as she stepped outside. She handed the papers to Giles and said, “Thought you all might need these. All they say is that Faith was released from prison under your care. You’re supposed to be her Watcher again.”

Giles scrutinized the documents. “The Council never mentioned anything about your release. Although with everything that has occurred in the last month or so, we wouldn’t have noticed if they had tried.”

Buffy looked inside the Magic Box. “She needs to be taken to the coven. Now. Before she loses control again.”

Giles nodded. “I know.” His gaze flickered from the shop to Faith and back again.

“I’ll take her.” Five faces turned towards Xander, who leaned against the doorjamb. He said to Giles, “You’ll have your hands full with Faith now, and Buffy still has to get a new job. I’m the next best one to take Willow to England.”

“Xander, are you sure?”

“Yeah. She won’t do anything to me. Just tell me where this coven is so I can make plane reservations.”

“I will in a moment.” He examined Faith, taking in her multiple cuts and shredded clothing. “It would be best if we continued this tomorrow. You need to get those cuts cleaned and bandaged. Do you, ah, have someplace to stay for the night?”

“She’s staying with me,” Anya said, looking at Faith for confirmation. As the brunette nodded, Anya returned her gaze to Giles. Past the Watcher, she could see Xander. His face was set in a stony mask; he pivoted and walked back into the store.

Giles nodded slightly. “Alright. Faith, be here at 10am tomorrow. I need to know more about your release, as well as where you have been in the past few weeks. Anya, could you take her to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

Faith nodded towards the Magic Box. “My bag. It’s on the floor.”

“I’ll get it.” Anya walked in the shop for a moment before returning with the bag. She glanced at the broken window and said, “What about-”

“I’ll grab some plywood, cover it up,” Buffy said. “Dawn can sweep up the glass.”

Anya remained silent for a moment before flashing tight smile towards Buffy. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Well,” Anya said to Faith as the pair walked away from the Magic Box. They stepped onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the Sunnydale hospital. “You certainly know how to make an entrance. Though next time, could you not crash through the window of my store?”
 

***

“How do you think she’s doing?”

“Faith?”

“No, you git. The Queen Mum. Yes, Faith.”

Spike and Angel sat on the roof of the Hyperion, the twinkling city of Los Angeles spread out beneath them. Clouds swirled overhead, a torrent mixture of blacks and greys threatening to rupture with a ripe thunderstorm. The sounds of the city drifted to the rooftop on the swirling winds; dogs barked and car horns blared, doors slammed shut and sirens wailed. The uncertainty of the storm had set the sprawling metropolis on edge.

“I don’t know,” Angel said. “She has a lot of history with Buffy. Most of it isn’t pleasant. But they’ve both changed since their last encounter.” He glanced at Spike out of the corner of his eye. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

“Hmm. Are you nervous about going back?”

“No. Why would I be nervous? I’m only returning to the town where everyone hates me to apologize to the woman I love for almost raping her. I have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Not everyone hates you. Anya doesn’t hate you.”

“That’s because I don’t treat her like a freak for being a demon.”

“And that guy you told me about, what was his name?”

“Clem.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Spike sighed and leaned back on his hands. He stared into the night sky, eyes hidden in shadow. “No,” he murmured, “he doesn’t hate me either. That’s two out of a whole town.”

“Two is better than none.”

“Not if it’s not the right two.” He sat up, drawing a leg up and setting an elbow on it. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and said, “Am I crazy for going back?”

Angel studied the younger vampire for a minute before responding. “No. There’s nothing crazy about trying to set things right.”

“Guess not.” Spike turned his face towards the sky. The clouds parted, revealing a glimpse of the star laden heavens. The pale light of the moon danced over his features, highlighting the creases around his eyes and mouth. “I found a girl sitting outside just like this once. Looking at the stars. It was 1936, not so many lights around back then, so you could see them better than you can now. She was so intent on the stars that she didn’t even notice I was there until I sat down next to her. She wasn’t even afraid of me. Just started naming the stars and pointing out the different constellations that she knew. I snapped her neck when she got to Orion and took her back home to Dru for a midnight snack.” He looked at Angel now, tears flowing freely down his face. “I didn’t even care. I just slung her dead body over my shoulder and carted her back to Dru. How do you set something like that right?”

“You can’t.”

Spike raked a hand across his face, viciously wiping at the tears that stained his cheeks. “I know,” he whispered.

“But apologizing to Buffy isn’t the same thing as trying to atone for all of the people you’ve killed. You try to do that, and you’ll get sucked into the past and dwell in all of the misery you caused, all the pain you created. I spent eighty years like that. Reliving every moment I stalked someone, every moment I drained their blood and threw their body to the side like a piece of garbage. And it nearly drove me insane.”

One corner of Spike’s mouth quirked up. “So that’s what I have to look forward to? A padded room and my own custom made straight jacket?” He glanced at Angel and shrugged. “Better than 500 years in a hell dimension I suppose.”

Angel shook his head. “No. It’s not.” He watched the clouds float over the exposed stars, blanketing the world in darkness once again. “It takes a lot to admit a mistake. Takes even more to apologize for it.” He looked at Spike as the first crackle of thunder sounded in the distance. Angel stood and dug into the pocket of his black jacket; he pulled out a slim book, wiped the cover clean, and handed it to Spike. “Something for those moments when the past comes back to haunt you.”

Spike examined the object held in his hands. It was a book of poetry.
 

***

The Hellmouth loves to keep the status quo. One vampire’s dusted, another vampire rises. One person dies, only to be reincarnated as a ghost. And one unstable woman who’s tortured and killed left town just as another unstable woman who’s tortured and killed arrived. Buffy sighed as she crossed Main Street, the remnants of yesterday’s storm clouds obscuring the midmorning sunlight. Thunder, rain, and lightning had drenched Sunnydale the night before. Thunderstorms on the Hellmouth usually caused the resident evil to come out and play, so last night was a fun-filled, water-soaked, mud-covered slaying adventure for Buffy. The quiet that usually signaled the arrival of summer in Sunnydale had been obliterated by a brunette in black leather and a red head, black eyed Wicca.

Buffy stopped in front of a large brick building with mirrored windows. A plain sign with the word “Mossino’s” engraved on it hung over the glass doors. She glanced at the newspaper advertisement in her hand, then back at the small plaque designating the building’s address. This was the right place. Buffy stuffed the scrap of paper in the back pocket of her jeans and pushed open the heavy door. The inside of the building was spacious. It had a high ceiling sprinkled with skylights; fluorescent lights buzzed softly, illuminating the airy interior. To the right of the door sat weights, treadmills, and various other exercise machines. A small office lay directly across from the front doors, and a narrow hallway running alongside the edge of the office headed towards changing rooms. An arched entryway on the left side of the building led to a large, empty room. Stepping away from the entrance, Buffy walked through the entryway into the open area.

The right wall was covered in mirrors, which reflected the outside world peeking into the dojo through the windows. Two oak trophy cases stood against the far back wall; various plaques and certificates filled the space surrounding the cases. Buffy approached the cases; they were filled with first place awards for Tony Mossino from numerous martial arts competitions. Some were in the weapons division, others in full contact sparring, stretching back ten years.

“Do you need something?”

Buffy spun at the sound of the rough voice behind her. A tall, broad shouldered man leaned against the entryway, arms folded across his chest. He had close cropped dark hair and light colored eyes, and he wore a pair of loose black pants and a white tank top. “Yeah. A job.”

The man raised an eyebrow, his eyes slowly drifting from the top of her head down to her toes. A smirk appeared on his face as he said, “Beauty parlor’s down the street.”

Buffy stared at the man for a moment before a tight smile flashed across her face. She placed her hands on her hips and said, “I’m looking for Tyler Mossino. The ad in the newspaper said this place needed a new self-defense instructor.”

“I’m Tyler.” He pushed off the wall and sauntered into the room, eyes fixed on Buffy’s lithe form and honey colored curls. “And like I said, the beauty parlor’s down the street.”

Sighing, Buffy folded her arms across her chest and moved towards Tyler. “Just give me a shot. I have self-defense training and I’m stronger than I look.”

“You don’t look strong enough to break a twig.”

“Good thing you’re not a twig.”

Tyler closed his eyes and sighed. Pointing towards the back of the building, he said, “Alright, alright. I’ll give you a shot. There’s some pads in the locker room-”

“I won’t need pads. You might though.”

Tyler snorted. “I doubt it.”

“You won’t.”

They headed for the center of the room and faced each other. Tyler bowed, lips curling into a smile. “Just to be nice, I’ll give you the first shot.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She threw an easy punch which he blocked and countered with one of his own. Buffy dodged to the right and dropped down, right leg swooping out to knock Tyler off of his feet. He jumped at the last second, momentarily thrown by her speed and agility. He aimed a right jab at Buffy. Blocking the punch, she darted to the left and lashed out with a hard kick to the ribs, knocking him to the floor. He flipped up, focused, mouth in a grim line. Tyler rushed her, preparing for a shot to her gut, when she ducked and used his momentum to throw him over her shoulder. He landed on the floor with a thud, knocking the breath out of him. Buffy placed a foot on his chest and looked down on him smiling.

“Do I have the job? Or do you need another demonstration?”

Tyler closed his eyes and chuckled softly. He ran a hand over his short, black hair; he opened his eyes and glanced at the tiny blonde who had bested him within two minute. Maneuvering into a sitting position, he said, “You have the job.”
 

***

Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

Email: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy, Spike, or any of the other characters of BtVS. They are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, etc.

AN: Hope everyone likes this chapter; it’s long and full of action. As always, reviews are wonderful, except if they’re flamey.

Chapter Ten: Shadows and Moonlight

By: Wynn

Hard thwacks, dull thuds, and breathless grunts echoed in the training room of the Magic Box. The air was stifled with sweat and tension, and the warm, humid breeze that whispered through the open door did nothing to lessen the heat of the day. Dawn stood in front of Buffy and executed a hard kick towards one of the protective pads covering her sister’s hands. The sound of her tennis shoe pounding against the thick leather resounded through the room. A similar thud sounded seconds later, emanating from Faith, who sparred with a thoroughly protected Giles.

Dawn sent a right hook towards Buffy’s hand. A weak echo of impact drifted through the building, causing Dawn to wince. She held up her hands as Buffy placed her padded fists on her hips. “I know, I know,” Dawn said. “I punched like a girl again. I didn’t even punch. I just waved with my fists closed. I didn’t put my whole body behind it and I’ll never do it again. I promise.”

Buffy closed her mouth with a snap, her important kernel of fighting knowledge withering on her lips. She pushed a strand of sweat drenched hair out of her face and nodded. “Ok, then. Good to know that you know about punching. It’s vital and important, and I never said you punched like a girl. I said it was-”

“You called it a girly punch.”

“Well, sort of. It was kind of wimpy.”

Dawn smiled, a tiny giggle escaping her lips. “Yeah, it was. But I’ve gotten much better since that first wimpy punch. It’s a startling, impressive improvement for a relative combat newbie such as myself. And-”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “You have gotten better, but-”

“And I think this signifies that I have surpassed this basic level of training and am ready to move on to the next one.”

“Really.”

Dawn nodded. “Yes.”

“And what, oh impressive one, is this next level you’re ready for?”

“Patrolling.”

“Not a chance.”

Dawn folded her arms across her chest and glowered at Buffy. The blonde Slayer slipped off the training pads, placed her free hands back on her hips, and stared down her sister. Sighing, Dawn said, “I’ve learned how to block and dodge and punch and kick and throw people and hit the pads really hard, but how am I supposed to learn how to put it all together and fight if I never actually fight?”

Buffy shrugged. “Watch Bruce Lee. You’ll learn everything you need.”

“Buffy, it’s summer. There’s never any real danger in Sunnydale in the summer. I probably wouldn’t even come across a vamp if I went patrolling.” She paused, running a hand over her long brown hair. Her eyes lit up as another persuasive tactic appeared in her head. “And I wouldn’t even have to fight. I could just watch you fight. You know, learning by imitation?”

Buffy bit her lip gently. “I don’t know, Dawn. There are too many unpredictables involved in patrolling. It’s not safe.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s not safe. That’s why you’re training me, remember?” Her gaze drifted to the other side of the room to Faith. The brunette Slayer jumped in the air, aiming a high kick for Giles’ outstretched hand. Her boot connected roughly with the pad; Giles cursed and pulled his hand out of the leather mitt. He wiggled his fingers a bit, muttering to himself. Dawn turned back to Buffy and said, “What if I watch you fight in a less predictable environment? Like the back room of the Magic Box?”

Buffy’s eyes darted to the opposite corner of the room. Giles slumped against the far wall, a fine sheen of perspiration covering his face. He gulped water from a small jug. Faith danced around the punching bag; the heavy bag jumped and jingled with every kick and jab. “No. I’m not fighting Faith.”

“Why not? We’re in the Magic Box, so it’s safer than patrolling. And you haven’t trained in a long time, well, besides your job, but you only teach women how to kick guys in the balls, so it’s no big. You need a challenge. And, fighting you is definitely a better way of seeing what Faith can do than watching her pummel Giles. And-”

Buffy held up her hand. “Dawn. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why? Are you afraid she’ll beat you?”

“What? No. Of course not. It’s just that… it’s Faith.” Buffy’s eyes flickered from Faith to Dawn. Off of her sister’s exasperated look, she closed her eyes and said, “Ok, ok. God, if I had been as eager to train as you are, Giles would’ve been so much happier.”

Leaving a beaming Dawn, Buffy crossed the room and sat next to Giles. She watched Faith land a vicious side kick to the center of the bag, followed by a sharp jab. She bit the corner of her lip and said, “How’s the training going?”

“Good. She, uh, hasn’t lost any of her fighting abilities. And she seems to be in better control of her anger, using it constructively instead of spiraling into rage. However, all we have done is basic training. How she acts during an actual fight might be quite different.” He looked at Buffy. “What about Dawn?”

Buffy tore her gaze from Faith and peered at her sister. “Oh, she’s good. Really good actually. You know, for a non-Slayer person.”

“The monks did create her out of you, Buffy, so it’s natural to assume that some of your Slayer skills have passed onto Dawn.”

“Yeah, and now she wants to see those Slayer skills in action. Against Faith.” One side of her mouth quirked up as she glanced at Giles. “Dawn said it would be learning through watching or something like that.”

Giles rubbed a towel on his forehead. “I think that it’s a good idea.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

Sighing, Giles laid the towel on the floor and turned towards Buffy. “I am, especially if Faith is to begin patrolling again. An evenly matched fight would be a better assessment of her mind set and, and control of her anger and aggression than having her pound my hand into pulp.”

“But it’s Faith. All of our fights lead to badness and comas.”

“Buffy, the circumstances are different this time. It’s not a fight to the death. It’s training.”

Buffy sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She exhaled softly as she said, “Fine, but if anything gets destroyed or, or broken or anything like that, you’re cleaning it up.”

Giles smirked. “Of course.”

“And you’re telling Faith about this.”

“Telling Faith about what?”

Buffy’s eyes popped open. Faith stood before her and Giles, chugging water from a plastic bottle. The brunette placed the bottle on the ground and looked from Giles to Buffy, one eyebrow raised in confusion. A small, tight smile twisted Buffy’s lips. “Tell you about training. We’re, uh, going to train together. As in fight. With each other, here in the Magic Box.”

Faith stared at Buffy for a few seconds before turning to Giles; her brown eyes were wide with disbelief. “You want me to fight B?”

Giles nodded. “Yes. Do you feel you’re ready?”

“Um, sure. I guess.” Her eyes flickered to Buffy. “You Ok with this?”

Buffy shrugged as she stood. “Yeah.” She walked past Faith into the center of the training room, attempting to stretch the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and neck. She was tight and tense, her breathing slow and deep. Her heart pounded as she smoothed a few stray hairs back into her ponytail and faced Faith.

Faith bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, her dark brown hair partially obscuring her face. Sweat coated the palms of her hands and dripped down the small of her back; she sucked in one deep breath, then another. Her kohl rimmed eyes were focused on Buffy.

The summer breeze whipped through the room. Old tensions traveled the chaotic winds, roughly caressing the two Slayers. Buffy’s fist shot out towards Faith. The brunette blocked and sent a return punch. Buffy ducked; she aimed quick jab at Faith’s stomach. Her fist was caught by Faith, who swung Buffy into the heavy punching bag. Buffy bounced off the bag, blonde hair slipping out of the ponytail. Her face hardened as she lashed out with her right leg. Her foot connected with Faith’s midsection, causing the brunette to stumble backwards. Buffy pressed the advantage and kicked at Faith again. Faith dodged and dropped into a crouch; her leg swooped out, circling towards Buffy. The blonde jumped, landing as Faith jumped up from the ground. Chests heaving from exertion, they stared at each other, eyes wide.

Faith darted to the right and attempted a fierce side kick at Buffy; she connected with a high roundhouse. Buffy’s head snapped back and Faith moved forward. She sent a left hook towards the blonde, but her arm was grabbed by Buffy. The blonde head butted Faith, then elbowed her hard in the stomach; the back of Buffy’s fist smashed into her face. She twirled around Faith, who seized Buffy’s arm and yanked the blonde back towards her. Faith kneed Buffy in the stomach and sent a high kick towards her head, releasing the arm as her boot smashed into Buffy’s temple. Buffy staggered, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes narrowed, hard hazel glimmers turning towards Faith. Faith returned the glare; her own dark eyes were alight with anger. Buffy straightened. She shoved a loose strand of hair into her ponytail. Faith shook her head, whipping her hair out of her vision. Harsh, jagged pants echoed in the silence covering the Magic Box.

Buffy jumped, her leg extending in a front kick. Faith blocked, moved back a couple of steps, and dodged another flying kick from Buffy. The brunette spun in a circle, lashing out with her right leg. The brutal back kick caught Buffy in the chest. Buffy fell to one knee and sucked in deep breaths as Faith edged forward. As the brunette approached, Buffy moved into a hand stand; her feet arched back and wrapped themselves around Faith’s neck. Buffy whipped forward, the momentum sending Faith sailing across the training room. Faith crashed into the floor; her breath gushed out in an audible groan. The two women lay on the floor, panting, sweat sliding into their eyes. Buffy stood and rubbed the bruise forming on her temple as Faith pushed off the floor, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth.

“Wow,” Dawn breathed. Her large brown eyes were flooded with awe.

Giles stepped between the two Slayers. He removed his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his t-shirt. His gaze traveled between Buffy and Faith, quietly assessing the flushed faces and steely eyes. Replacing his glasses, he said, “Well, I gather that you are ready to begin patrolling, Faith. What do you think, Buffy?”

Buffy looked at Faith a moment longer before transferring her stare to Giles. Her face was impassive, devoid of emotion. “She’s ready.” She glanced at Faith once more, then turned and walked towards the small couch on the far wall of the Magic Box. Buffy grabbed a towel and a water bottle and headed for the exit. She pushed open the door, pausing, the dazzling sunlight glinting off of her golden hair. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Shaking her head slightly, Buffy walked out of the training room, letting the door slam shut behind her.
 

* * *

Night blanketed the Hellmouth. Its dark embrace twinkled with small specks of starlight. The midnight air was steamy; dew clung to blades of grass and covered the stone surfaces of the Sunnydale Rest Haven Cemetery. Four walked quietly through the stillness and the silence. One twice dead Slayer, one rebel turned Watcher, one rogue Slayer, and one Vengeance Demon. Eyes and ears were trained on the shadows of the night, searching for the forces of darkness. It was an unneeded pursuit since the darkness inevitably sought them.

Anya sighed and flipped her pale blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’m bored.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t want-”

“Anya. Don’t.”

Anya turned towards Faith. She arched an eyebrow at her new friend’s request but remained silent. She watched Buffy sigh, readjust her hold on her crossbow, and move ahead, next to Giles. Once the blonde Slayer was out of earshot, Anya said, “See. This is exactly why I didn’t want you to patrol alone with her. She becomes very elitist and superior.”

“I don’t think it’s her inner bitch coming out tonight.” Faith glanced around the cemetery, assessing the dilapidated tombs, crumbling headstones, and cracked stone statues. “Something’s just doesn’t feel right. Like the Hellmouth is getting ready to jump up and bite us all in the ass.”

“I know. I feel it too.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just on edge. The fight with Buffy…”

“What about it?”

Faith sighed. “It was strange. Usually when I fought B it was to kill her, not to just fight. This fighting with no killing… takes some getting used to. I still felt the pull though. You know, the pull to just let loose with some ripe rage and do some wicked damage.” She was silent for a moment. A wisp of a smile appeared on her lips as she said, “But it wasn’t as strong this time. I fought it.” Her brown eyes drifted ahead and locked on Buffy. The smile faded. “Don’t think it matters to her though.”

Anya followed Faith’s line of sight. She arched an eyebrow and said, “You care what she thinks of you?”

Faith shrugged. “Just forget it, ok.”

“No, I won’t forget it. But I won’t say anything more tonight.”

Faith flashed a small smile. She ran a hand through her dark locks, her eyes piercing the shadows of the night. There was no need to get into a conversation about feelings in a cemetery in Sunnydale in the middle of the night. That was just asking for trouble.
 

** *

“I mean, did she even think about how I felt? No. All she wanted to see was a fight. It didn’t matter if I had to fight Faith, the one who tried to take over my life, my body, who has tried to kill me on more than one occasion. And then, after seeing the fight, Dawn still complained because I wouldn’t let her come patrolling with us.”

“Buffy, I think you’re overreacting a bit.”

Buffy scowled at Giles for a moment before she rolled her eyes and sighed. “I know. I’m just… wigged. Fighting Faith again just brought out all sorts of unpleasant, want-to-kill-you types of feelings. I kept expecting her to go postal, but she didn’t.”

“Maybe she has changed.”

Buffy pursed her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe not. You never know with her. And on top of worrying about Faith, not to mention her new bestest buddy relationship with Anya, Willow has gone back into magic and there’s some kind of new threat wanting to be King of the Hellmouth. I thought summer was supposed to be the time for rest and relaxation.”

“Rest? On the Hellmouth-” Giles fell to the ground, victim to a blow to the back of his head. His ax tumbled through the air, landing a few feet away. He struggled to his feet and blinked his eyes several times to clear his vision. “Bloody hell.”

Buffy spun. They were surrounded by three vampires; in the distance she could see Faith and Anya fighting three more. One vampire leapt towards Giles and tackled him to the ground, leaving Buffy with the remaining two vamps. Buffy smiled and lifted her crossbow. She aimed it at the two vampires and said, “Who’s first?”
 

* * *

The vampire attack had come from behind. The three evil undead had quickly separated Faith from Anya, with one vampire, a lithe female, attacking Anya and the other two, one the size of a linebacker and the other straight out of Nerdville, to deal with Faith. A smirk appeared on her face. She reached behind her back and pulled her stake from the waistband of her pants. She twirled the stake in her fingers as she said, “Boys, boys, boys. This is going to be fun.”

She tackled the small, nerdy vamp, knocking him against a large headstone. Jumping up, she landed two kicks to his midsection before she lashed out, her stake plunging into his heart. His dust sprinkled against the green earth as she was struck from behind by the linebacker vamp. She tumbled against the headstone, breath exhaling in a whoosh. Her mouth hardened as her foot arched back, connecting with the vamp’s jaw, snapping it shut with an audible crack. Springing onto the granite marker, she punched him twice and executed a brutal kick to his temple. She moved to punch him again, but her hand was caught in midair; the vamp yanked on her arm, sending Faith sailing through the air and crashing into the ground. She rolled to her knees, climbing to her feet as he charged. She darted to the right and smashed her boot against the back of his head. Faith pressed forward, sending a vicious punch to his kidneys. Another hard kick to his back caused the vampire to collide against one of the cemetery’s tombs. She spun him around, pinning him against the wall with her hand on his throat. She smirked again as her stake pierced his heart, turning him to dust beneath her fingers.
 

* * *

Anya placed her hands on her hips and stared at the female vampire before her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. She shook her head slowly as she said, “I doubt you want to fight me.”

The vampire smirked. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes.”

“I think I can handle myself against one human.”

A wicked grin spread across Anya’s face. “I’m sure you can.” The vampire charged. Anya’s grin widened as she teleported, causing the vampire to crash through the door of a tomb. The vampire fell to the floor with a thud; the impact echoed throughout the tomb as Anya walked through the entrance. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “But I’m not a human.”

The female vamp scrambled to her feet, yellow eyes wide. “You’re a demon.”

“Yes. A very astute observation on your part.”

“Why are you with the Slayer if you’re a demon?”

“Because a large majority of the demon world, such as yourself, is bland, boring, and very stupid. Faith is not. Are you ready to resume fighting?”

The vampire rushed Anya. The blonde vengeance demon kicked the girl; her boot collided harshly against the vampire’s chest, sending her sprawling against the stone coffin. Anya kicked again, but her foot crashed into the coffin as the vampire dodged, punching her twice in the face and knocking her to the floor. Anya chuckled and said, “That was a mistake.” She sprang to her feet, her demon features appearing on her face. Her hand lashed out and she grabbed the vampire by the throat, her fingers tightening against the cold flesh. Anya tossed the vampire through the air. She smashed into the coffin and crumpled to the floor. Anya walked over to the broken door and grabbed a jagged piece of wood. As the girl struggled to her feet, Anya hurled the chunk of wood across the tomb, stabbing the vampire in the heart. She stared at the dispersing dust for a moment before turning and walking out of the tomb.
 

* *

Giles and the vamp tumbled end over end across the cemetery. They rolled to a stop with Giles on top. He executed two hard jabs, his fist pounding against the vampire’s face, before pushing off him. Giles stumbled over to his ax and hefted it into his hands.

As Giles turned, the vampire groaned and sat up. He noticed the ax in Giles’ hands and said, “Aw, man. Why do I always get the ones with weapon?”

Giles sighed.

The vampire stood, brushing grass from his jeans. “Look, man, can you just put the ax down? It’ll make it easier for both of us. If you put it down, I’ll kill you quick.”

“As tempting as your offer sounds, I rather like my ax. I doubt I will be putting it down anytime soon.”

“Have it your way then, old man.”

The vampire moved to the right, his leg arching up and knocking Giles’ ax to the side. Giles spun in a circle, using the momentum of the block to swing the ax through the air, and chopped off the vampire’s head. The vampire crumbled to dust. Giles sighed again and placed the ax over his shoulder, muttering, “Wanker.”
 

* * *

The two vampires faced off against Buffy. They glanced at the loaded crossbow, then at each other. The one on the left, dressed in a hideous orange suit, pointed towards Buffy, indicating that his companion should charge her. The vampire on the right shook his head and backed away a few steps. The two vampires started to bicker over which one should attack the Slayer first. Buffy rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Um, I don’t think arguing like school girls will accomplish anything except giving me a headache. But I really think that’s from your suit. What in the hell were you thinking? You look like a giant carrot.”

The vampire in the suit glanced down at his outfit. “They say orange is the new fall color. It’s in style.”

Buffy pulled the trigger on the crossbow. One bolt shot through the air and imbedded itself in the orange vampire’s chest. He exploded into a shower of orange dust as she said, “You should have stuck with black.” She shook her head and loaded the crossbow again. Buffy looked for the second vampire, spotting him next to the woods bordering the cemetery; he glanced back at her as she shot the second bolt. It pierced the tree next to the vampire; he turned and plunged into the forest. Buffy slung the crossbow over her shoulder and sprinted towards the woods. She pulled her stake from the waistband of her pants and entered the dense trees. Branches whipped against her face as she ran; she could hear the vampire crashing through the woods ahead of her. She burst out of the trees into a moonlit clearing. Buffy saw the vampire charging across the field towards two figures hidden in the shadows of the trees. She grabbed her crossbow, loaded it, and fired, sending a bolt shooting across the field. It struck the vampire, knocking him to the ground where he exploded into dust.

Buffy dropped the crossbow onto the ground and stepped into the clearing. Her hazel eyes focused on the pair in the shadows; she heard the sounds of fighting. She took a couple of steps forward when the two figures tumbled out of the shadows into the moonlight. One was a heavyset vampire, dressed in camouflage. The other was in a faded black shirt and jeans; his hair was mussed, streaked with ash and platinum blonde.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she whispered, “Spike…”

She watched as Spike punched the vampire and kicked him in the gut. His left hand slammed against the vampire’s chest, ramming a stake into his heart. The vamp burst into dust. Spike slid the stake back into the pocket of his shirt and brushed the remains off of his pants. He froze, slowly turning his head until he locked eyes with Buffy. Her heart pounded inside her chest, sending her blood rushing through her veins. They looked at each other in the cool moonlight, drinking in their mutual visions. The world stilled around them, the sounds of the night faded, the sultry summer air slid between them on the leisurely winds.

“Buffy!”

Buffy started. She blinked once, then twice. She heard Giles call her name again. She looked at Spike. He glanced between her and the woods behind her. He locked eyes with her again before moving backwards and melting into the shadows. He disappeared into the forest when Giles, Faith, and Anya burst into the clearing. Buffy stared across the field, oblivious to the world, focused on shadows.

Giles placed a hand on her arm. “Buffy, are you alright?”

Buffy blinked again, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face. “Yeah. I’m fine. Are we ready to go?”

Giles nodded. He picked up her crossbow and handed it to Buffy.

She smiled again and placed the weapon against her shoulder. She followed Anya, Faith, and Giles back into the forest, stopping at the tree line and turning her head to look once more across the clearing. Buffy drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She tore her gaze from the field and entered the forest.
 

* * *

Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

Email: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, WB, UPN, etc. I use them for entertainment purposes only.

AN: All quotes, Enemies, Graduation Day 2, Villains, Two to Go, Grave, taken from BtVS not taken from memory were provided by Psyche’s Transcripts. Many, many thanks go out to the people who review each chapter. I appreciate every one. So keep them coming!

Chapter Eleven: Drowning in Darkness

By: Wynn

The room was small. It contained a soft twin bed, a nightstand with a gold lamp, and a plaid armchair. One window faced the lush pasture of the English countryside, but the plains were covered by cream colored window shades. Willow sat on the bed, feet drawn up underneath her, eyes closed. She breathed deeply, attempting to clear her mind of her jumbled thoughts of the events of the past few weeks. The coven in Devon had performed a binding spell on her magical abilities as soon as she and Xander had arrived in England. She felt empty inside. The connection that she had magically forged with the world around her, with higher realms of power and other planes of existence, had been severed, leaving her cold and hollow.

‘Bored now.’

Her eyes shot open. She shook her head slightly and sighed. The tenuous hold she had had on her memories crumbled. She stood and walked over to the window, pulling back on the shade and peering into the night. She wished Xander was here. He stayed by her side after the binding spell, encouraging her in her efforts to heal and in her lessons from the coven, just listening and supporting her. She wanted to talk to someone, to distract herself from the pain of the past, but he had gone back to his room in desperate need of sleep. A glimmer of tears appeared in her eyes. It was probably for the best that Xander was asleep. She didn’t want him to see what she had become. She didn’t want him to know she wasn’t Willow anymore.

Bright light flooded the room, causing Willow to cover her eyes. She backed into the corner of the room as the glow gradually faded. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, the room coming back into focus. Her eyes were drawn to the armchair and to the woman lounging in it.

“Cordelia?”

“The one and only.” Cordelia shifted in the chair, her long brunette hair swinging over her shoulder; she wore a white silk dress and a pair of sandals. A broad grin crossed her face as she said, “How ya doing, Willow?”

“H-how did you get here? Am I, uh, hallucinating?”

“No hallucinations this time. Just trans-dimensional travel. It’s sort of like teleporting, only prettier.”

Willow nodded slowly as she slumped next to the wall. She closed her eyes and muttered, “Oh, of course, trans-dimensional travel. Should’ve known. Only I didn’t ‘cause I’m definitely hallucinating here. Crazy and evil now. Wonderful.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You’re not nuts. Not yet anyway. Trans-dimensional travel is a perk of being a higher being.”

Willow cracked one eye open. “You’re a higher being?”

“Yeah. I was a half-demon first which, let me tell you, was *pretty* interesting, but the Powers of Vague wanted me elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“Are you repeato girl or something? Yes, elsewhere, as in here. I’m here to help you.”

Willow smirked, a wry and bitter twisting of her lips. “No one can help me.”

Cordelia was silent as she looked at Willow, her dark brown eyes taking in the pale complexion, dark circles, limp hair, and shallow lines surrounding her eyes and mouth. She stood and moved next to Willow. Crouching in front of the redhead, she murmured, “You’re worse than I thought. What the hell did you get yourself into?”

Willow turned her head from the brunette’s steady gaze; she fixed her eyes on the cream curtains and picked at the ragged nails on her hands. After a few moments, she whispered, “Magic.”

“Magic doesn’t do this. Not if you use it right.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.” Cordelia shook her head as a shudder ran over her body. “You got into something bad. You opened the floodgates to primal forces and now you’re drowning in darkness. You don’t know how to be whole again. Not without the magic.”

Willow eyed Cordelia. “Since when did you turn into a font of compassion and actually care about others besides yourself?”

Cordelia tilted her head to the side. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “They thought she would help you. But it was already too deep within you.” She leaned forward and placed her hands on Willow’s wrists. The deep brown of her eyes swirled and melted into pure, glowing white. The window burst open, curtains billowing in the fierce wind as Cordelia said, “That’s where I come in.”

The edges of Cordelia’s eyes glowed faintly, a glimmer that slowly drifted across her face and down her body, to the tips of her fingers and into Willow. The glow traveled the length of Willow’s arms, washing over her chest and neck, delving into the depths of her eyes. Willow screamed as light poured into her and surrounded her, filling the small room, banishing the lingering shadows.

Cordelia placed one hand across Willow’s chest, covering her heart. “It’s poison. And you let it inside you, let it consume you.”

Willow gasped. “What-what are you doing to me?”

“Letting you feel.”

The wind howled as the light flashed, blinding, burning inside of Willow. She crumpled against Cordelia, haunting, mournful sobs wrenched from her lips. Visions flashed into her mind. The shredding sound of Warren’s skin being ripped from his body. The dull thud of Tara’s body hitting the floor, cold and lifeless. The piercing scream echoing from her lips in the abandoned prison cell. The terror and panic on Dawn’s face. The ecstasy flooding through her as she sucked the life out of Giles.

‘I love you.’

‘Willow doesn’t live here anymore.’

‘I have to say skinning a man alive, nice work. Very evil.’

‘Let me tell you something about Willow. She’s a loser.’

‘They love you like I love you. Forever and always.’

Darkness blanketed the room, covering Cordelia, Willow, and the harsh, wretched sobs of grief.
 

* * *

Four days. Four days had passed since Spike had appeared in the middle of the moonlit clearing, tumbling into the light in a flurry of fists and a shower of vamp dust. Four days had passed since Spike had disappeared from the moonlit clearing without a trace, fading back into the night, leaving her with one last look, one last glance of vivid blue. In four days he could have traveled anywhere. Yet Buffy knew he was still in Sunnydale. She could feel it. She could feel him. His presence nipped at the edge of her mind, dancing in and out of her consciousness, a constant hum of awareness burning within her. After four days of nipping, dancing, humming, and burning, Buffy had grabbed her stake, walked out of her house, and slammed the door behind her.

Four days of waiting were four too many. His time was up.

She gazed at his crypt, taking in the crooked door and low stone overhang. Ivy stretched along its walls; it curled around the door frame and stretched along the roofline, delicate shocks of green against the cool grey of stone. She shifted the stake in her hand and approached the door. Barely breathing, she leaned her ear against the rough wood grain and listened. A small smile curled the corners of her lips as the sounds of movement within the crypt drifted to her ear. He was here. Excellent.

Buffy grasped the knob and opened the door. She slowly walked inside, twirling the stake in her hand, hazel eyes casually drifting over the small television, tattered armchair, and rusted refrigerator before resting on him. One corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as she said, “Hi Clem.”

Clem glanced at her, shuffling a bit. His hand lifted in a small wave before he shoved them into the pockets of his pants. “Hi, Buffy. What, um, I mean, why are you here? Not that I don’t want you to be here, or that you’re not welcome to be here because you are. Both you and Dawn are always welcome here. But what I mean is, uh, why are you here?”

Buffy’s smirk widened into a grin as she searched the interior of the crypt, her eyes finally returning to Clem. “I was looking for Spike. Have you seen him?”

“Spike? No, I-I haven’t seen Spike yet. No. I mean, is he back in town? When did he get back?”

Buffy tilted her head to the side and regarded Clem. A minute passed, then another with no movement, no sound, just watching. She moved towards him, hips swaying as she sauntered across the crypt. “Let me take a wild guess here. A few days ago there’s a knock on the door. You open it and find Spike. He looks a little different, less platinum, more dirty blonde, but still dressed in black. You invite him in, chat a bit about the weather, things like that, when Spike tells you that you can have the crypt. That he’s found a new place to stay.” She stopped in front of Clem and folded her arms across her chest; her hazel eyes were intent on his face. “Am I right?”

Head dropping slightly, Clem whispered, “Yes.”

“He probably asked you not to say anything to me, right?”

“No, not exactly… well, yeah. He did.”

Buffy nodded her head. She backed away from him and slumped into one of the threadbare chairs, sighing softly. Her eyes traveled over the crypt, over the chair that Spike used to sit in to watch Passions, over the coffin he used to sleep on, over the hundreds of half-melted candles that had cast a warm glow across the cold, crypt interior, across the cool planes of his body. She looked down at her hands, eyes cloudy with emotion.

Clem stared at Buffy for a moment before he walked towards the chair. Crouching next to it, he said, “He didn’t tell me where he was staying exactly. He just said that it was somewhere on the east side of town.”

Buffy raised her head and locked eyes with Clem. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just don’t tell him I told you, Ok. Good friends are hard to find in this town.”

Buffy flashed him a small smile. “I won’t say a word.” She pushed off of the chair and placed the stake in the back pocket of her jeans. Moving towards the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder at Clem. “How was he?”

“Quiet.” His eyes traveled the length of her back to her stake. “Are you going to hurt him?”

She looked at him; her eyes were shrouded in darkness. A ghost of a smile passed over her face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. She was silent as she turned back and walked to the door. She laid her hand on the knob and said, “Thank you again, Clem.” Buffy stepped over the threshold, into the cemetery, and closed the door behind her.
 

* *

Nothing had changed. Four years had passed since she last set foot in the abandoned mansion on Crawford St., but it remained the same. The stillness, the silence that permeated the imposing three stories took her back in time. Back to a time when Angel was her past, present, and future; when Faith was her enemy; when her mom was still alive. When Willow was her best friend, and Giles was her Watcher, and Spike was a distant memory, halfway around the world, torturing Drusilla to love him again. A lifetime has passed since then. People had come and gone, apocalypses had been averted, and she had died. Yet for all of the changes, much remained the same. Giles was still her Watcher. Xander and Willow were still her best friends. And she was still involved with a vampire, albeit a blonde, chipped, abrasive, cocky, passionate, conflicted vampire instead of a brunette, soulful, tortured, brooding, intense, conflicted vampire.

Buffy sucked in a deep breath and approached the entrance. The door was open; trash was strewn throughout the hallway, nestled amid piles of crumbling leaves. Cobwebs stretched across the ceiling. Her hazel gaze traveled the length of the hall, searching for signs of recent activity, signs of Spike, and finding none. Yet she stepped into the hall and moved deeper into the house. Her heart pounded, blood screaming through her veins, as she made her way down the cold, stifling walkway and entered the large ballroom of the mansion. The scorched mark where Angel had reappeared was still burned into the tile floor, and she could see the courtyard through the archway, its fountain filled with dirty water and debris.

‘You still my girl?’ ‘Always.’

She had thought she would be his forever. They had survived prophecies of death, the end of the world, and hundreds of years in hell, only to crumble under the pressure of perfect happiness. She shivered as she backed into the hallway, arms drawn across her chest.

‘What are you going to do, B? Kill me? You become me. You’re not ready for that yet.’

So many betrayals had occurred within these barren walls. So much pain. Lives had been flipped upside down, turned inside out, and utterly destroyed. Buffy continued down the hall, stopping in front of the main room. The stone fireplace was barren, black ash coating the granite, brittle twigs and kindling crumbled on the floor. The broken remains of the coffee table covered the room.

‘Drink. Drink me.’

Her fingertips grazed the faded scar on her neck, grimacing at the jagged line of flesh. It was a mark of the ultimate pleasure and the ultimate pain.

It hurt a hell of a lot more than I thought it would.’

Buffy stiffened. The fleeting images of her Slayer dream flashed through her mind. William and his poetry… the dark, shadow filled cave… the green eyed monster… Faith straddling Spike, stake pressed hard into his chest… a crumbling house between dense woods and the Sunnydale Rest Haven Cemetery. Buffy stumbled out of the room and crashed against the wall of the hallway. Spike’s return had been prophesized in her dream. Why? She closed her eyes a moment and drew in a deep breath before sprinting out of the mansion. Her golden hair whipped behind her as she streaked across the empty streets of Sunnydale to confront the vampire from her dreams.
 

* *

The two story house sat amide a grove of elm and oak trees. Its grey paint was peeling, flaking off in large chunks, and the windows were covered with pieces of plywood. A wraparound porch circled the house; a pair of wicker rocking chairs sat in front of the boarded bay window. Buffy edged around the rundown residence. The back of the house resembled the front with peeling paint and covered windows. Hidden in the shadows, Buffy saw a metal trash can. She walked towards it and lifted the lid; the inside was full of garbage, moldy food, torn scraps of fabric, old newspapers. She replaced the lid, moved next to the back door, and gently turned the knob. Buffy slipped inside the house, easing the door shut behind her.

The kitchen was dark. A small formica table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by three vinyl chairs. Buffy ran her fingers over the countertops; they were clean, and the sink was full of dishes. A ray of light peeked into the room from under a set of swinging doors. She moved to the door, pressing on the heavy wood until it cracked open. A narrow hall lay outside the doors. She could see the front entrance directly ahead of her. At the end of the hall, light streamed out of the room on the right. Buffy stepped into the hall and made her way towards the light, body sliding along the wall. She paused at the opening to the room and closed her eyes. She could feel him inside the room. Her heart thudded in her chest, pounded in her ears so loud she knew he could hear it. Sucking in a shaky breath, she craned her head around the doorframe and peeked inside the room.

He sat in a plush armchair. The chair faced a marble fireplace, its crackling fire casting a warm glow across the living room. A low glass table sat in front of the fireplace; a black mug perched on the corner of the table. Light from a floor lamp behind the chair shone down on his streaked, curled hair and glinted off the small silver glasses perched on his nose. He shifted in the chair and thumbed through the slim book in his hands. He wore a black button up shirt and a pair of loose black pants. His feet were bare.

Buffy leaned back against the wall, trying to slow her racing heart, and wiped the palms of her hands on her jeans. She stepped into the doorway, crossed her arms over her chest, hazel eyes locked on the slumped form in the armchair, and said, “Hello Spike.”
 

* * *

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