Title: Come To Play
Author: Starla
Email: starla@buffymail.com
Disclaimer: These Characters belong to Joss Whedon, except Gorlock, Alana, Adrian Townsend, and anyone else you don't recognize.
Distribution: Take it, but let me know. If you have any of my other fics, go ahead.
Author's Notes: It *will* be B/A I promise. I realise this part is a little depressing. Sorry. Season 4 did happen, Fish Boy did date Buffy, Angel went to LA, etc.
Spoilers: I dunno. Anything is possible, be warned.
Summary: 150 years after the Scooby Gang die, they return to Earth to help out the current Slayer and her Slayerettes.

Part 8


Faith walked across the parking lot, her scowl darkening with each passing second.

Things could have been different.

She knew that.

If she'd just played along, been the good little slayer, followed the rules.

Buffy followed them.

Ok, so maybe not all of them.

< Screwing a vamp? I'm thinking that's gotta be pretty much No 1 on bad things list. > Even if he did have a soul, and was lusciously fuckable.

"But did anyone ever say she was bad? No! But the second I kill a few people, I'm like this big villain." She muttered to herself.

A cold smile spread across her lips. < No mind. I like being a villain. > There was a dark power that accompanied being evil; A new form of adrenaline that made you feel as if you could do anything at all.

Sometimes, when her knife was sliding through flesh- any flesh, good, bad, human or demon- it felt like she was flying. Like she had separated from her body, and left all her problems, all her pain, behind.

Other people's pain was the best anesthetic.

Ross stared at Buffy. "Wow." He glanced at Angel. "This little girl did all that?"

Buffy glared at him. "Watch who you're calling a little girl."

"You've seen Alana kick some demon derriere." Spike rolled his eyes. "She's as tiny as Blondie."

"You'd think after a hundred and fifty years that he'd learn my name." Buffy commented.

Angel smirked. "He hasn't got many brain cells left."

"Eh! I resent that!" Spike cried.

Buffy snickered.

"Ok. This is one of the weirdest situations I've ever been in." Ross said.

"Really?" Buffy said. She glanced at Angel. "Is he kidding?"

"He's new." Angel replied, nodding slightly.

"Ahh." She studied Ross for a minute. "Well, kid: You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Alana jolted awake as she felt the presence of another person in her bedroom. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see an older girl with curly chestnut blonde hair falling over her shoulders, a tiny black tank top showing off her ample cleavage. A pair of black leather pants completed the look, but it was the eyes that wigged Alana.

They were dark, and tainted with only the slightest hint of human emotion.

Pity the emotion was malice.

Instinctively, Alana knew this was Faith.

She sat up slowly. "What do you want?"

"To see what your insides look like." Faith said in an overly dramatic villains whisper before snickering.

"Funny." Alana rolled her eyes.

"Sorry. Always wanted to use one of those cliched movie lines." Faith replied, with false friendliness. She circled Alana's bed, gazing at her, evaluating her.

"God, it's like Buffy the second." Faith said in disgust. "Shoulda known Angel would go for a mirror image of her."

"Buffy and I don't look that much alike!" Alana protested.

Faith sneered. "It's the eyes. So innocent....what do they look like when you're going in for the kill, though?" She shook her head and snorted. "Innocence is lost, and you're just like me."

"I'm not like you." Alana replied icily.

"That's what B said. Course, a few weeks later she was shoving a knife in my stomach to keep her boy alive, so I think maybe she was wrong."

"If that's true, it was for a reason. Buffy wouldn't kill for no reason."

"God, she's been here two minutes and you're already on the Buffy Brigade."

Alana ignored her. "If you want to survive, I suggest you get out of my room right now."

"You're not ready." Faith replied, walking to the window, looking back. "Yet."

In moments, all that remained where Faith had been was an empty window, the blinds blowing softly in the wind.

Buffy removed a black silk shirt from her bag, holding it up for Willow's approval.

Willow grinned. "I like."

Cordelia looked over from where she was filing her nails. "I can't believe you didn't wake me."

Buffy shrugged. "Didn't think you guys'd be up for a 3am shopping spree. Sorry."

"So did you and Angel make with the smoochies yet?" Cordy asked, throwing the file down and leaned forward, ready for Buffy to dish.

Buffy shook her head. "No. And we're not going to."

"Oh, please. You're telling me, that after 150 years of not seeing each other, not touching each other, you're not gonna do anything? Even though you know his soul is permanent?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She turned around and started folding up her new clothing. "What Angel and I have now is purely platonic." She threw her shirt down and spun around to face Cordy. "Was I convincing?" She asked in a small voice.

"Not in the slightest bit." Oz said, looking up from the magazine he was reading. "Sorry Buff."

Buffy sighed. "What am I gonna do, guys?"

Her only answer was silence.




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