A Lick of Lightning
S J Smith
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon never calls, never writes. I'm thinking the relationship is over. But I'm gonna play with his toys, in a strictly not- for-profit sort of way, 'til he tells me otherwise.
Rating: PG-13 to R
Spoilers: Doubtful. But if I had a choice, this might be an episode for Angel, Season 5.
Author's Note 1: Thanks to DutchBuffy for the challenge. Hope you enjoy!
Author's Note 2: I filched the Bible mentioned in this story from The Artist, a novel I read many years ago. Wish I could claim it was my idea but it's not.
* * * * *
...still, the storm approaches.
And there's nothing I can do.
So I wait and I watch
And I feel his breath against my face,
Cool and brave.
His salt licks my skin,
His promise brushes my hair.
His fury drives the wind to touch my cheek
and whisper something I can't hear. I think he loves me.
I think he comes to see me.
I am young.
I will learn.
from "Something I Can't Hear" by Terry Moore
* * *
The heat slid down her skin and she turned into it as if it were a caress. Sunlight, fresh and free, with no bars or walls or wires to block it was still a novelty. She couldn't get enough of it. There was no doubt she'd be as brown as an Indian by the time the summer was over. It was glorious, having the whole hotel to herself. Angel, for reasons untold, refused to let the place go even though he spent most of his time at the office. Faith had seen his rooms, once; Angel in sunlight, she thought Buffy probably would've killed to see it. But since even Fred had gotten her own apartment, someone needed to watch the hotel, make sure no one broke in, that sort of thing. And Faith loved it. All that space, no one bugging her. No one getting into her business.
"Faith?"
Most of the time, that was.
Faith rolled over, giving Wesley a look as he walked out into the courtyard. It wasn't exactly a glare, she thought, more of cat-like disdain. Mentally she grinned at herself for using the word 'disdain' in a sentence. All that reading while she was locked up did amount to something. Giving in, otherwise he'd never go away, Faith asked, "Yeah, what is it, Wes?"
He was staring at her stomach as if he'd never seen one.
Okay, he probably hadn't seen one as nice as hers. Faith was proud of her body. It was her weapon. Her tool. All right, her toy. And she liked to play with it. If she flexed her abs, she could wink her belly button ring right at him.
"Ah," Wesley said and straightened, shedding OldWes just like that and returning to that man who'd broken her out of jail earlier this year. "Angel was worried. You weren't answering the telephone."
She lifted her eyebrows at that. Angel, worried. All right, he had gotten a little (more than a little, that nagging voice inside her snapped) hinky since that big battle at the 'Dale. Everyone needed a cell phone. And a beeper. God, it was almost worse than prison. She never knew when one of the damn things was gonna go off. And God help her if she didn't answer, right away. "He's just gotta get over this, Wes," Faith said, rolling to her feet. So much for more sunbathing. "I checked in once this morning. What more does he want?"
Wes gave her a commiserating smile. "I'm not sure," he said. "All of us safe, I suppose." He shrugged, glancing skyward. "Though with the type of business we're in..."
"Safe isn't exactly the right word to be using," Faith finished for him. She ran a hand over her chestnut hair, stretching her body. Her bikini was snug so she didn't have to worry about flashing Wes. Not that she really cared but Wes was a friend and she didn't play friends that way. Grabbing her shirt, Faith tugged it on and buttoned it as she said, "He's gone all momma bear on us." She scowled as she walked into the Hyperion lobby, Wes only a beat behind her. "All right, Cordelia's, uh." Not wanting to hurt Wes' feelings, Faith trailed off. She hadn't liked Queen C in Sunnydale; the "new, improved version" living in L.A. hadn't been, as far as Faith was concerned. Still, Queen C'd been in the middle of the battle against whatever it was they'd been fighting in L.A. while she'd been in Sunnydale, seducing Robin, Buffy's boss. Or was it the other way around? Whatever. Cordelia was in a coma now and even with all the research that was going on, Faith didn't really have a lotta hope that Queen C was gonna snap out of it.
"I'm not sure that's it," Wesley said, fingering his lower lip. He leaned absently against the receptionist's desk, crossing one ankle over the other. "He seems to be rather, well, un-Angel. He was always concerned about us, but never like this."
Faith sat on the round couch, her fingers laced loosely between her knees. The smell of coconut tanning oil rose from her sun-warmed flesh. Angel'd probably bitch about the oil getting on the couch, then again, he might not notice. There were weird things going on in his head, as far as Faith could tell. "Besides Cordelia, it isn't like we lost anyone important," she said tentatively. She didn't really have to say the name aloud; Wes was quick, he'd pick up on the B-word. "Okay, so a town went bye-bye but." And they'd lost what's-her-name, Xander's ex. Faith didn't think Angel knew her. Oh, and Spike. They'd lost Spike. No love loss there. Angel might've done a jig in Spike's ashes, if he'd had the chance.
"Yes," Wesley said, though Faith wasn't sure if he meant anything by it or if he was just using the word to fill in a space. "There is, of course, the fact we're working for Wolfram and Hart." His expression changed so quickly that Faith wasn't sure what she saw. "Or, rather, they're working for us." They exchanged mutual grimaces at that idea.
Faith remembered all too well her first experience with W & H and their paying her to kill Angel. She remembered smacking that little weasel's head into a desk repeatedly. Couldn't remember his name but that sound...oh, that muffled, cracking sound was still there. "You don't think he expects to change them," she asked warily.
"I'm not sure what Angel thinks," Wesley said, rubbing at his temple absently. "He seems different somehow." His frown was more thoughtful than angry. "Distant." He shook all over, like a dog rising from water. "That may not be the word I wanted."
Shivering slightly, as if someone had walked across her grave, Faith wrapped her arms around herself. "Maybe we should ask him."
Wesley met her eyes again, holding them levelly. "Perhaps we should."
Faith grunted, finger combing her hair out of her eyes. Somehow, she knew neither of them would do it. The status quo wasn't the greatest; everyone doing their own thing. That was part of the reason she was here, after all, not in Cleveland. There were enough Slayers and wanna-be's there; they didn't need her. And B needed a break and was with Giles and the Scoobs in England. Might as well let Kennedy have all the fun of a Hellmouth of her very own. Hopefully, everyone was working for the greater good. Faith wasn't sure she believed it but she wasn't exactly willing to rock the boat just yet.
"So," she said, "Angel sent you to find me?"
"Not exactly." Wes seemed on firmer ground now. "I was wondering what you were doing this evening."
Faith swung her legs and eyed him.
"I've received an invitation...well, intercepted might be the correct word." Wes' expression was positively larcenous. Yay for her studying, again. "Mr. Lee Black and his wife, Amanda, having a party this evening, a dinner party, to show off some of their acquisitions."
"What, they don't have a fence?"
He ignored her question. "Mr. Black is a collector of many fine antiquities, including artifacts of all sorts, human; demon, an amazing mix, in all."
She dropped back against the sofa, leaning her head against the top of it so she could stare at the ceiling. "So, we're muscle?"
"No, we're guests. But, if we make the right impression, there is a possibility he will allow us the change to study the Atereema discs in his collection."
"And you're taking me again, why?" Faith leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I'm not all fancy dinner gal, Wes. I'm more of a grab something at Micky-D's and pray it doesn't kill me type. You could take Fred."
His smile was cool, calm and damn near dangerous. "I'd rather have you at my side, Faith."
Her eyebrows raised. "There's gonna be trouble?"
"It's almost a certainty."
Her teeth flashed white. "Five by five, Wes."
* * *
Faith fussed with her dress. The rich blue complemented her coloring - she knew enough about being a girl to know that - but the last time she'd worn any type of dress was when Mayor Wilkins was alive. He'd bought that pink sun dress for her, something that totally didn't suit her and she'd been thrilled and embarrassed, all at once. Shoulders slumping briefly, she gave herself in to the memory of the man who'd taken an interest in her, for herself, not because she was an easy lay or the Slayer but because she was Faith. She swallowed, tossing back her dark hair, squeezing the bridge of her nose, trying to keep from crying. Richard Wilkins III was a bad guy. She got that. But he'd also cared for her in a way that no one had before or since. Sometimes she thought she heard his voice. When the First had appeared to her, looking like the Mayor, it had rattled Faith more than she let on. When alone, she admitted that to herself. That it had been a shock, seeing the man who, to her, represented what Giles did to B, though, from the Dark Side of the Force end. She'd been shocked and angry. And then she'd gotten over it. The Mayor was gone and the First's head games were nothing compared to the ones played on Faith in jail and with Angelus in Angel's memories.
"Loser," Faith said to the memory of the First, facing her reflection again. She twisted from side to side, putting the memory of the last battle from her mind, studying the cut and the line of her dress. She suddenly got a flash of B, dressed for the prom or one of the other dances she went to. How'd she fight in a dress like this? Faith wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her boobs under control in normal circumstances, as low cut as her dress was, much less try one-two punch. Maybe it was glue. Didn't those wannabe Miss Americas all have their clothes glued on so they wouldn't flash the judges? Then again, B didn't really have that much in the "up top" category. Especially the way she looked the last time Faith had seen her. As far as she was concerned, B looked like a walking skeleton. And from what Faith had heard about English food, she doubted seriously the senior Slayer was gonna put on any weight there, unless she took up an alcoholic's diet.
Whatever. Faith shed all the bad memories and concerns with one all-over body shake, liking what her reflection did in the mirror. She had no doubt this dress could attract honeys like flies and her mouth curled up in a grin at the idea. Turning away from the mirror, she found her shoes and slipped them on, adding another two inches to her height.
"Faith, are you up there?" Wesley's voice rose from the lobby.
"Coming, Wes," she called, taking a last look at herself. She shook her head at the reflection and spun out of her room, running lightly down the hall to the stairs.
Wesley's appreciative glance warmed Fath through to the core as she started down the steps. The fact that he gave her a second, more lingering one, was like a shot of whiskey - burning and addictive. Second thoughts asserted themselves when she reached the landing and she hesitated. "It's too much, isn't it?"
His head shake was slow and smooth. "You are lovely, Faith," he said.
She assessed his black-tie outfit in return. Wes was still thin but she already learned what kind of strength he could pull off when he'd come to her in jail. "And there's something about a man in black," she said, dropping down the last of the stairs to take his arm. "We look hot."
"We do, don't we?" He patted her fingers, tucked into the crook of his arm lightly as he led her out of the hotel and towards his SUV. "You are armed in case of emergencies?"
"Never go anywhere without 'em." She grinned at him. Did he catch her wording? There wasn't anyplace in this dress to hide a weapon. Besides, Faith liked to improvise.
"Excellent." His own smile was crafty, devilish even and he opened the door to his SUV for her, handing her in.
Sunset stained the sky a rich red as Wesley guided the vehicle through the Los Angeles streets and towards the coast. Heavy purple clouds were rolling in from the north, dark with the promise of rain. Faith shrugged mentally; she didn't expect this dress to last the night anyway if there was a fight in the offing. This game wasn't gonna be called on account of rain. A lick of lightning stroked along the bottom of the clouds, brightening the scalloped edges.
"Storm brewing," she said, nodding towards the north.
Wesley peered at the clouds. "That shouldn't be a problem. We'll be indoors most of the evening. Before we get there, Faith, I want you to know that Mr. Black's collection is rather hotly pursued," he went on, piloting the SUV through the heavy traffic.
"Part of the trouble you mentioned earlier?"
"Possibly." A frown creased his forehead. "There are, as always, prophecies accompanying such things; some are sworn to have magical properties. They are items from various human cultures and some demon ones." His shoulders twitched slightly. "I definitely would like to see the Atereema discs."
"Yeah, you said that earlier. What's so special about them?"
"For one, they prophecy the end of the world," Wesley said, his attention focused on the road and the bluehair putzing along in front of them with an eventual left turn blinking.
"Been there, done that," Faith said.
"Yes, well, haven't we all." Wes swung the SUV around the old Chrysler and sped past it only to get stopped at the next light. "The Atereema discs specify that the Destroyer is coming, though, and I would like to have more information on that."
"Which destroyer?" Faith shrugged when her companion glanced her way. "Aren't they all destroyers?"
"This Destroyer is either supposed to save the world or obliterate it." At the sound of her huff, Wesley continued, "By all our calculations, he or she or it, for that matter, was supposed to have arrived in the world recently, within the past two years. So far," he piloted the SUV onto a road flanked by expensive houses, "we've not heard a peep from him."
"Wait, is this a Damien-Omen type thing?"
"That's what I'd like to find out."
Faith was surprised when they reached their destination, an expensive beach house overlooking the Pacific. The stiff ocean wind played with Faith's hair, tugging at her messy curls. Strange and wonderful scents whipped by on the breeze, rich chocolate, roasting meat; all of it conspiring to make her mouth water.
Lightning flashed again as they passed onto a boardwalk that led up to the house. Flanking an ancient pair of wooden double doors were a pair of stained glass windows that reached over halfway to the second floor. The light gleaming through the mosaics of red and yellow made it almost look like the entrance was on fire. As they drew closer, Faith realized that there were people in the glass, religious in nature, though in the glass arch above the doorway itself a fat yellow sun smiled jovially. It didn't seem to go with the windows but Faith wasn't complaining. Wesley touched a doorbell that was surrounded by wrought iron filigree. Faith managed to close her mouth by the time the doors opened, barely after the bell sounded. A woman, probably in her late forties, Faith guessed, with blond hair that was just starting to go ash, opened the door.
"Hello," she said cheerfully, "please come inside." She stepped back to gesture them through the entrance.
Faith wondered if this place could look anymore like a church. From the stained glass windows to the ornate wooden trim, to the iron chandeliers, stark and plain and still imposing, with lights set up in and around the crossbars to the elaborately carved table, it reminded her all too well of the altar of the church her mother had dragged her to when she was much younger.
It was just creepy, as far as she was concerned.
The woman seemed friendly though and was dressed in a beautiful dark grey sheath dress with a diamond pendant resting just above the valley of her breasts. "I'm so glad you could make it, Mr. Pryce," she said, leading them along the hallway. "Lee wasn't quite sure if anyone from Wolfram and Hart would be interested in coming out. We've had so few dealings with your offices for the past few years since Mr. McDonald left." Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug.
"We do appreciate the invitation," Wes said smoothly, "Mrs. Black."
She smiled brightly, naturally. "Please, if you don't mind, Amanda. We're all friends here." Amanda ushered them into a large room that seemed almost as big, to Faith, as the lobby of the Hyperion. Sheet windows looked out over the dunes, sea oats waving wildly under the force of the wind. Faith could see, beyond the dunes, the surf rising and curling in towards the shore. Lightning flared, illuminating the whole beach for an instant. She shivered slightly, licking her lips, wanting to go out there and run into the approaching storm.
Wesley's light touch on her elbow brought her back to earth and Faith offered a smile as Amanda clapped her hands lightly, bringing everyone's attention to the newcomers. The blonde then introduced Wesley and Faith and, squeezing both of their shoulders, gently pushed them into the room while she went to 'check on the food'.
A grey-haired man detached himself from a small group of people, including a short, monstrously fat woman with a pinched mouth and an elaborate cane, a tall, thin blond guy with shoulders broad enough to hang on to and another, scrawny woman, dressed in something that reminded Faith of a fringed, multi-striped tablecloth. He smiled as he approached, offering his hand to Wes.
"Lee Black," he said, gladhanding Faith when Wes released his hand.
"Happy to meet you at last, Mr. Black," Wesley said.
"Lee, please," he said. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves here tonight. He guided them to the hors d'oevres and made small talk for a few minutes before moving off to meet and greet more people that his wife had brought in.
"Now what," Faith asked Wesley softly.
"We mingle."
Faith wasn't looking forward to this part of the evening. She just knew she wouldn't be able to relate to these people but sticking close to Wes' side just seemed too clingy. She wanted to go out onto that balcony beyond those huge windows, let the wind blow away her nerves. Instead, she carefully began prowling around the edges of the room.
It had that same religious overtone that the hall and the entryway had; a few ornate crosses and these strange books that seemed to be made of gold with paintings of what had to be Mary and baby Jesus on them. She casually checked out the books on the shelves, not recognizing many of the titles though there were at least twenty copies of the Bible. One, under glass, had drawings in the margins, of Jesus with a dog trotting at his heels and sitting next to him while he spoke. Faith wondered if Wes had forgotten on purpose to tell her that the people hosting the dinner party were religious.
She moved on around the room, checking out the other glass cases, studying the books. She paused for a long time in front of the windows, watching as the storm rolled in. Seagulls rode the air currents the same way that surfers rode waves. She wondered where they'd take shelter from the storm. A waiter paused to offer her a glass of champagne. Faith liked the way the amber liquid bubbled in its glass and the way it slid down her throat. At least she knew enough to sip it. She'd seen Pretty Woman.
A lot of the men looked at her as she wandered. She didn't mind the attention. After all, 'flaunt it' was pretty much her motto. Some of the women glared at her, others dismissed her entirely after a glance. It was all water off her back as far as Faith was concerned. She didn't exactly like the way her stomach felt and set the champagne on the next tray a waiter carried by. It was too early in the month for her period to start, so it couldn't be that.
Mr. Black appeared on the small landing that ringed three quarters of the room, smiling at his audience. Faith rejoined Wes as Lee gathered Amanda to his side. "Good evening, everyone. I just wanted to take the time to say thank you for coming out tonight. I know the weather's beastly," he gestured at the windows behind Faith, "so I really hope that everyone has a good time. If you're anything like me, I'm sure you're starting to get hungry."
"You're right, Dad," someone said. Everyone chuckled appreciatively at the comment.
Faith craned around but didn't see the speaker as Mr. Black said, "This from my son." Amanda Black shook an admonishing finger at someone in the audience, her smile giving away her amusement. "Anyway. Before the boy dies of hunger, let's head on into the next room so you can see the artifacts."
A kid darted up the stairs, pushing at a door. He held it open, grinning cheekily as everyone passed through. "Take your time, don't rush," he said as Wes and Faith drew close. "They're not going anywhere."
Faith eyed the kid as she walked through the door. Distressed leather jacket, khaki pants, white button down shirt; all he needed was the fedora and the whip to complete the 'Young Indiana Jones' look. He caught her glance and grinned. Faith blinked. It was truly the most disturbing smile she'd ever seen. She thought the kid's head was gonna split apart.
"Oh." The single word escaped Wes like a soap bubble, floating up towards the ceiling. Faith had to pull him out of the pathway to let the rest of the people into the room. A part of her assessed it quickly and efficiently, the part that had once taken up crime to pay the bills and provide her with weapons she needed to fight the nasties. That part checked off the various deterrents in the walls, in the cases, scattered around the room, inconspicuous unless you knew where to look. The magpie part of her, the one that helped lead her to a life of crime, that part pointed and chirped at all the pretty glittering things.
Wes approached one of the cases like an ordinary man might a girl in a string bikini. Faith watched him go, shaking her head indulgently. OldWes was rearing his head. She had no doubt she'd get a lecture if she followed him over there.
Best way to avoid it was to go somewhere else.
Faith abruptly turned and made her way towards the opposite wall, people watching more than anything else. Entranced by a necklace of chunky gold and amber bits, a stylized sunburst engraved into the pendant, she paused in front of its case, the better to admire it.
"It's neat, huh?"
A faint grin curled her mouth. "Honestly, I can't tell real antiques from the old-looking crap they sell at the mall."
"Oh, God, don't let my Dad hear that."
She turned to see Indiana Jones standing next to her, leaning past her to look at the necklace. "Have a meltdown?"
He straightened and faced her. "Chernobyl would seem mild."
Faith studied the kid obliquely. He was skinny, too skinny for her tastes but it was obvious he could move. He'd sneaked up on her, after all and that took some doing. The whole outfit thing reminded her of Xander and she'd bet the kid had comic books stashed in with his porn, if he was old enough to actually have porn. This kid probably had watched every possible geek movie and seen that recent pirate one often enough to quote Johnny Depp's lines and thought they'd be cool to repeat to pick up women. He grinned again, a scary flash of teeth. "Are you checking me out?"
Cheeky little bastard. What was he, all of twelve? "You wish."
Shrugging, he said, "What can I say? I'm single." He almost managed to say it without a catch in his voice.
Faith was forced to reassess her impressions. Maybe Indy here actually had been with a real live girl. "Yeah?" She rocked back, folding her arms. "What makes you think I am?"
He laughed, another disturbing thing. This kid shouldn't laugh or smile. He just looked strange. Sort of like he was in pain. "Come on, I saw you."
"Maybe I was," Faith said. Did she just say that? Was she missing Robin that much?
"Saw you looking at the beach earlier," the kid said.
"It is a great view." She elbowed him. "Bet you check out bikinis all the time."
Indy flushed a little. "Nothing wrong with looking."
Faith poked his chest with her forefinger. "Exactly." Turning away, she checked the room over for Wes. He was in some deep conversation with the kid's dad. The rest of the guests were going from display to display; a few of them grouped in the center of the room.
"So tell me," Faith said, knowing the kid was still there, "your dad have any of these artifacts with curses on 'em?"
A bolt of lightning staggered across the sky; illuminating the room with its cold light. Thunder roared suddenly, overwhelming the sound of conversation. The lights flickered once inside the house then abruptly went out.
"Wait," Faith said. "Don't answer that."
Cries of shock filled the air. Faith blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. Lightning sizzled again, giving her a strobe-light view of the room. She winced as her belly twisted into knots, her own Slayer early warning system. "Oh, God." Demons.
The kid's hand was on her elbow. She didn't remember when he'd caught hold of her, only that she couldn't do this with him hanging on. Jerking her arm free, she took two steps away before he could grab her again. She closed her eyes again, sifting through the room with the rest of her senses. There were people reacting to the darkness, bumping into things, giggling over their nervousness. Mr. Black was announcing that everyone should stay calm, the lights would be back on in a few. Faith tuned him out abruptly. Her mouth watered. Did she actually smell chocolate chip cookies?
Faith opened her eyes in time for the lightning flash. She matched the positions of everyone she could see against her memory of just a few seconds before (that wasn't right, she thought/felt/knew) and moved.
She heard the side seams of her dress rip as she leaped into the air, spinning in a circle, her right leg snapping out. Her two-inch heel cracked against a skull. Faith landed, hearing a groan in front of her. Legs slightly bent and spread to give her a stable base, she punched hard, feeling her right fist hit something soft and giving. Something that smelled like chocolate chip cookies.
A screech came from somewhere in the room and she leaped away, hearing the whistle of an arm pass by her ear. Bouncing from one foot to the other, Faith yanked off her shoes. The next lightning bolt gave her a quick glimpse of the room. She ran, letting the afterimages guide her.
Someone crashed into her, knocking her down. Faith slid across the floor on one shoulder, feeling the carpet burn into her skin. Her shoes were lost. Swearing in her mind, she rolled to her feet, scanning the room for strange sounds. There was a panting noise, heavy and moist, somewhere nearby. Faith shifted her weight from back foot to front foot, using the momentum to strike hard. Her knuckles skimmed by something fleshy. Overextended, Faith lost her balance. The demon, what sort of demon smelled like chocolate chip cookies, took advantage of her awkward stance. Something as bony as an elbow crunched into her back between her shoulders, sending her sprawling. Faith grunted as she hit the floor again, rolling to the right, trying to clip the legs of her attacker.
It was too heavy for her to move that way.
Faith knew it was gonna try to stomp on her. She coiled up like a pill bug, forcing her limbs outwards suddenly, an explosion of hands and feet. She hit something, she felt it give. The demon yelped. Faith couldn't help the smugness that flooded her. She kicked straight up, her butt leaving the floor, her hands pushing her up that much higher so her feet thrust up into the demon's face. She heard the crack of its neck snapping back, hoping that was it for this one.
Twisting her body to land on her bare feet, Faith rotated in a tight circle. The party crowd must've figured out something was wrong. Moans and whimpers cluttered the air. Over all of that, she caught a sound, a scuff then a scrape. Something wobbled, a case? Something on top of a shelf? Whatever it was, Faith pinpointed the sound and darted towards it. She crashed into another of the fleshy, chocolate chip demons and bounced off, nearly knocked on her butt again. Faith managed to keep her feet this time, her fists raising together for one nasty uppercut. It went down without a sound, just a heavy slump of flesh. Faith jumped over it. There was at least one more of the demons and when she'd last seen it, it was dragging Lee Black from the room.
Faith burst through the door, Wes suddenly beside her. His jacket was missing and he wore a pair of metal stakes like bayonets, poking out from under his wrists. Faith didn't have time to admire his weapons. The demons, damn, there was more than one, how many crashed this party, anyway, had picked up Mr. Black and were hustling him along. A lightning flash hovered in the air for the count of three slow heartbeats, illuminating the room. Faith wished suddenly for Angel's weapon rack. It'd be easier if Black collected axes or swords instead of this religious crap. Wes was already moving across the room and she charged past him, leaping high in the air, arms and legs spread to cause the greatest impact.
Her attack threw them all against the balcony windows.
"Oh, fu-"
Thunder exploded across the sky as the glass shattered. They all spilled out onto the balcony, rolling in bunches towards the railing. Faith hit hard, the air crushed from her lungs. She tried frantically to push dough boy demon off of her, bucking despite the pain in her back, punching and jabbing with fists and knees and elbows, butting with her head. Something rose against the sky, against the darkness of the building and Faith's eyes widened. She squinched in reflexively as Wesley stabbed down, the metal spike on his arm skewering the demon's skull like one of those toothpick- speared olives in a martini. The demon shuddered once and collapsed, its weight still compressing Faith's ribs. With Wes' help, she managed to wriggle her way out from under it. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Wes," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath.
"I told you there'd be trouble," Wes said grimly.
"Where are they?" She panted as she got to her feet, using the railing as a brace.
The storm answered her question, lighting up the whole beach for a split second. The demons were about fifty yards away, heading for the ocean, Lee Black still in their grips. Something glittered arcanely in that flash of lightning. Wes grasped the rail in both hands, saying something like, "Chunk-pop-click demons. They're trying to raise a click-click-chip-pop from the ocean but they need the blood of the person who owns the artifact to do it."
Faith vaulted over the railing before he stopped talking, hearing the thud as Wes followed her. They both ran down the beach, the soft sand slowing them down. Faith picked up speed as her toes dug into the harder packed sand, the high tide line, surging ahead of Wes. The chunk-pops were almost at the water's edge, Black struggling against them. Behind her, Faith could faintly hear screams and shouts and wondered if Amanda would be calling nine-one-one and what she'd say to the cops. Then someone raced past her and she lost that train of thought.
It was the kid, whirling a baseball bat above his head like it weighed nothing. He plowed right into the chunk-pops, the bat connecting solidly with heads and shoulders, sending two of the demons staggering. His father fell into the surf and then Faith was there, tackling the nearest chunkie. They dominoed into another one, all three of them crashing into the water, Faith on top. Right where she liked it. She kicked out with her foot, her heel catching one of the demons under the neck, its head snapping to the side with a satisfying crunch. The other one tried to crawl out from under its companion and Faith jumped, landing on its shoulders, shoving it back beneath the waves.
"No, Faith!" Wes' shout caught her attention but his, "They gain strength in the water!" was too late.
She went flying deeper into the ocean, the heavy surf catching her. Her nose, spine and knees were scraped when the waves tumbled her over the ocean bed, the sand cutting into her skin. Flailing, Faith managed to gain her feet, the waves nearly knocking her off her feet until she splashed to the shallower water.
The kid was battling for all he was worth, moving like a dervish. Wes was there too, the storm light flashing off the cold metal of his bayonets where they weren't coated with the demons' ichor. A demon grabbed the kid and flung him into the waves then turned its attention to Wes. Faith grabbed the nearest chunkie, hauling it around to face her. It towered over her and she could see in its own face to the disguise of tall skinny man Lee Black had been talking to earlier. Faith grinned, hauling back and punching it in the nose, feeling the cartilage give way. "That's for wrecking my dress," she said.
Its head snapped back but it remained standing, its own smile echoing hers, its doughy hands coming up to clutch at her neck. "You won't escape."
"You wanna bet?" Faith kicked its knee at the same time she threw her arms up between the chunkie's, her elbows striking the inner bend of her opponent's. It went down that time and she used its body as a springboard, leaping onto the back of the one holding Mr. Black. They all went sprawling, Lee landing on the sand, Faith and the demon in the water. She sprang off of it, taking a stance between the man and the demon. Water plastered her hair and what was left of her dress to her skin. Her wounds stung where the salt and sand dug into them. Lightning flashed overhead and Faith smiled.
"You want him? You gotta go through me."
The chunkie got to its feet, holding something in its left hand, a dully- glittering sphere covered in hieroglyphs. "Don't have to," it said, its voice malicious. Faith recognized it as the obese little woman from earlier in the night. "I already have his blood." She spun, holding the towards the sky, shouting something in clicks and pops and whistles, then reared back, the sphere flying from her hand.
Faith lunged, knowing there was no way she could reach the ball. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wes battle a standing chunkie, leaping over it as it sank under the water, no where near close enough. She heard Black's yell in the background, saw the kid suddenly rise out of the waves like a pint-sized Godzilla, water sluicing from his body, the bat firmly in his hands. He hauled on the bat, swinging it forward, the aluminum striking the sphere with a crack that echoed in the lightning flash that came from the sky.
The chunkie screeched in disbelief as the sphere came whistling back towards her, a line drive right down the center. The ball struck, the snap of the chunkie's neck audible even over the thunder. The chunkie fell back, fingers clutching at the sphere embedded in its flesh, strange whistles coming from that damaged throat. Faith dodged out of the way, hauling Black with her as the chunkie crashed to the ground.
"Get the sphere!" Wesley shouted, stabbing both finger and bayonet at the hunk of metal. "Don't let the water touch it!"
Faith dove back in, kneeling on the demon's doughy chest, digging for the sphere in the chunkie's ruined flesh. She could hear the roar of the wave behind her, heard a sloshing sound and another shout of warning. Hunching her shoulders, she punched down into that neck, digging for and finding the sphere, hauling it back out, ignoring the grisly feel of blood and flesh and bone scraping along her hand.
"Faith!" Wesley's howl somehow was louder than the storm and she leaped forward, only to have something dig into her shoulder, hauling her back.
A remaining chunkie leaned in, breath washing over Faith with the smell of cookies. "You've got something of mine," it said.
"Want it?" Faith juggled the ball, wincing as the fingers dug deeper into her shoulder. She flung it towards the shore. "Play fetch."
The demon roared, its meaty hands grasping Faith to shove her beneath the water. She tried to fight up but she was off balance, her left leg pinned by her own body. She couldn't find a purchase, her hands flailing, sliding up the arms of the chunkie who held her at a distance, too far away to punch or jab or save herself. Stars burst in Faith's skull like lightning and she wondered if Buffy had felt this way when she died. She could see the blur of her attacker above; hoped Wes would get the sphere, keep it and Mr. Black safe. She hoped the kid would be okay. Her stomach cramped up and bubbles leaked from her mouth and nose, reaction to the pain. Another shadow loomed above her and suddenly, she was free.
Faith burst from the water, gasping and choking, snot running down her face and tears spilling from her eyes. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear, could only suck air like water in great whoops and coughs. Shaking her head to clear it, she managed to see someone pounding something in the waves, a weapon glistening up into the air and then down into the water. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Faith lunged across the waves, a scream tearing from her aching throat as she rammed the kid, taking him down into the water.
Lighting sizzled overhead, the bolt shooting from the sky quick as a snake's tongue, licking the air around her. The bat exploding above the kid's head. Twin scents, ozone and cordite, flooded the air, striking a memory of Willow's magic. Faith flung an arm over her eyes automatically, her skin tingling where it wasn't pressed into the kid's body. The blow echoed in her ears, the only thing she could hear then her heart started pounding again. Faith rolled off the kid, grabbing him by the jacket to haul him to his feet. They both staggered out of the water and onto the sand, following Wes, who was trying to persuade Mr. Black to get back into the house.
Someone ran down the beach towards them. Faith realized dully that it was Amanda, flinging herself into the arms of her husband, clinging to him and propping him up, much the same way she and the kid were doing for each other. Wesley released Black, his arms dangling, exhaustion evident in his pose. Faith wondered where his bayonets had gone. She staggered up to him, the kid not protesting. She released Indy to stand by herself, swaying slightly. "Wes, we need to get inside."
"Yes," he said, reaching into the pocket of his pants to pull out that ball. "I suppose Mr. Black will be wanting this back."
Faith plucked it out of his hand, turning it in hers. It didn't feel right and she wrinkled her nose, passing it back to her companion. She and Wes started towards the house, Indy following them slowly. Faith noticed he bent over at one point, picking up something. "You back there, kid?"
He straightened, glancing back towards the ocean then moved up to join them. He held a piece of twisted metal in his hands. "The bat," he said, wiggling it at them.
"What you did was very heroic," Wesley said, straightening as much as he could.
"Maybe we should save this for inside," Faith said, grabbing Wes' arm to march him along. The kid followed a step or two behind. She twisted to say to him, "You're a damn good fighter."
His face was lit by another flare of lightning. "My Father taught me."
"Yeah?" She cocked her head to one side, more than a little surprised that Black knew how to fight dirty. A tickle started in her memory and she squinted at the kid, wiping water from her eyes impatiently.
"Have we met?" Wesley asked, confusion coloring his words. "I'm sorry, you just seem so familiar."
The kid tossed back his soaked hair, his stance changing, his expression darkening as he stared Wes full in the face. "You know me," he said, sounding bitter. "And I know you both."
"Connor," Faith whispered. His name struck like an electric shock. She felt something important begin to slide away. Something old, like a memory of a dream, was coming into focus. Somehow, knowing that kid's name, she knew that everything was gonna change.
Again.
* * *
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon never calls, never writes. I'm thinking the relationship is over. But I'm gonna play with his toys, in a strictly not- for-profit sort of way, 'til he tells me otherwise.
Rating: PG-13 to R
Spoilers: Doubtful. But if I had a choice, this might be an episode for Angel, Season 5.
Author's Note 1: Thanks to DutchBuffy for the challenge. Hope you enjoy!
Author's Note 2: I filched the Bible mentioned in this story from The Artist, a novel I read many years ago. Wish I could claim it was my idea but it's not.
* * * * *
...still, the storm approaches.
And there's nothing I can do.
So I wait and I watch
And I feel his breath against my face,
Cool and brave.
His salt licks my skin,
His promise brushes my hair.
His fury drives the wind to touch my cheek
and whisper something I can't hear. I think he loves me.
I think he comes to see me.
I am young.
I will learn.
from "Something I Can't Hear" by Terry Moore
* * *
The heat slid down her skin and she turned into it as if it were a caress. Sunlight, fresh and free, with no bars or walls or wires to block it was still a novelty. She couldn't get enough of it. There was no doubt she'd be as brown as an Indian by the time the summer was over. It was glorious, having the whole hotel to herself. Angel, for reasons untold, refused to let the place go even though he spent most of his time at the office. Faith had seen his rooms, once; Angel in sunlight, she thought Buffy probably would've killed to see it. But since even Fred had gotten her own apartment, someone needed to watch the hotel, make sure no one broke in, that sort of thing. And Faith loved it. All that space, no one bugging her. No one getting into her business.
"Faith?"
Most of the time, that was.
Faith rolled over, giving Wesley a look as he walked out into the courtyard. It wasn't exactly a glare, she thought, more of cat-like disdain. Mentally she grinned at herself for using the word 'disdain' in a sentence. All that reading while she was locked up did amount to something. Giving in, otherwise he'd never go away, Faith asked, "Yeah, what is it, Wes?"
He was staring at her stomach as if he'd never seen one.
Okay, he probably hadn't seen one as nice as hers. Faith was proud of her body. It was her weapon. Her tool. All right, her toy. And she liked to play with it. If she flexed her abs, she could wink her belly button ring right at him.
"Ah," Wesley said and straightened, shedding OldWes just like that and returning to that man who'd broken her out of jail earlier this year. "Angel was worried. You weren't answering the telephone."
She lifted her eyebrows at that. Angel, worried. All right, he had gotten a little (more than a little, that nagging voice inside her snapped) hinky since that big battle at the 'Dale. Everyone needed a cell phone. And a beeper. God, it was almost worse than prison. She never knew when one of the damn things was gonna go off. And God help her if she didn't answer, right away. "He's just gotta get over this, Wes," Faith said, rolling to her feet. So much for more sunbathing. "I checked in once this morning. What more does he want?"
Wes gave her a commiserating smile. "I'm not sure," he said. "All of us safe, I suppose." He shrugged, glancing skyward. "Though with the type of business we're in..."
"Safe isn't exactly the right word to be using," Faith finished for him. She ran a hand over her chestnut hair, stretching her body. Her bikini was snug so she didn't have to worry about flashing Wes. Not that she really cared but Wes was a friend and she didn't play friends that way. Grabbing her shirt, Faith tugged it on and buttoned it as she said, "He's gone all momma bear on us." She scowled as she walked into the Hyperion lobby, Wes only a beat behind her. "All right, Cordelia's, uh." Not wanting to hurt Wes' feelings, Faith trailed off. She hadn't liked Queen C in Sunnydale; the "new, improved version" living in L.A. hadn't been, as far as Faith was concerned. Still, Queen C'd been in the middle of the battle against whatever it was they'd been fighting in L.A. while she'd been in Sunnydale, seducing Robin, Buffy's boss. Or was it the other way around? Whatever. Cordelia was in a coma now and even with all the research that was going on, Faith didn't really have a lotta hope that Queen C was gonna snap out of it.
"I'm not sure that's it," Wesley said, fingering his lower lip. He leaned absently against the receptionist's desk, crossing one ankle over the other. "He seems to be rather, well, un-Angel. He was always concerned about us, but never like this."
Faith sat on the round couch, her fingers laced loosely between her knees. The smell of coconut tanning oil rose from her sun-warmed flesh. Angel'd probably bitch about the oil getting on the couch, then again, he might not notice. There were weird things going on in his head, as far as Faith could tell. "Besides Cordelia, it isn't like we lost anyone important," she said tentatively. She didn't really have to say the name aloud; Wes was quick, he'd pick up on the B-word. "Okay, so a town went bye-bye but." And they'd lost what's-her-name, Xander's ex. Faith didn't think Angel knew her. Oh, and Spike. They'd lost Spike. No love loss there. Angel might've done a jig in Spike's ashes, if he'd had the chance.
"Yes," Wesley said, though Faith wasn't sure if he meant anything by it or if he was just using the word to fill in a space. "There is, of course, the fact we're working for Wolfram and Hart." His expression changed so quickly that Faith wasn't sure what she saw. "Or, rather, they're working for us." They exchanged mutual grimaces at that idea.
Faith remembered all too well her first experience with W & H and their paying her to kill Angel. She remembered smacking that little weasel's head into a desk repeatedly. Couldn't remember his name but that sound...oh, that muffled, cracking sound was still there. "You don't think he expects to change them," she asked warily.
"I'm not sure what Angel thinks," Wesley said, rubbing at his temple absently. "He seems different somehow." His frown was more thoughtful than angry. "Distant." He shook all over, like a dog rising from water. "That may not be the word I wanted."
Shivering slightly, as if someone had walked across her grave, Faith wrapped her arms around herself. "Maybe we should ask him."
Wesley met her eyes again, holding them levelly. "Perhaps we should."
Faith grunted, finger combing her hair out of her eyes. Somehow, she knew neither of them would do it. The status quo wasn't the greatest; everyone doing their own thing. That was part of the reason she was here, after all, not in Cleveland. There were enough Slayers and wanna-be's there; they didn't need her. And B needed a break and was with Giles and the Scoobs in England. Might as well let Kennedy have all the fun of a Hellmouth of her very own. Hopefully, everyone was working for the greater good. Faith wasn't sure she believed it but she wasn't exactly willing to rock the boat just yet.
"So," she said, "Angel sent you to find me?"
"Not exactly." Wes seemed on firmer ground now. "I was wondering what you were doing this evening."
Faith swung her legs and eyed him.
"I've received an invitation...well, intercepted might be the correct word." Wes' expression was positively larcenous. Yay for her studying, again. "Mr. Lee Black and his wife, Amanda, having a party this evening, a dinner party, to show off some of their acquisitions."
"What, they don't have a fence?"
He ignored her question. "Mr. Black is a collector of many fine antiquities, including artifacts of all sorts, human; demon, an amazing mix, in all."
She dropped back against the sofa, leaning her head against the top of it so she could stare at the ceiling. "So, we're muscle?"
"No, we're guests. But, if we make the right impression, there is a possibility he will allow us the change to study the Atereema discs in his collection."
"And you're taking me again, why?" Faith leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I'm not all fancy dinner gal, Wes. I'm more of a grab something at Micky-D's and pray it doesn't kill me type. You could take Fred."
His smile was cool, calm and damn near dangerous. "I'd rather have you at my side, Faith."
Her eyebrows raised. "There's gonna be trouble?"
"It's almost a certainty."
Her teeth flashed white. "Five by five, Wes."
* * *
Faith fussed with her dress. The rich blue complemented her coloring - she knew enough about being a girl to know that - but the last time she'd worn any type of dress was when Mayor Wilkins was alive. He'd bought that pink sun dress for her, something that totally didn't suit her and she'd been thrilled and embarrassed, all at once. Shoulders slumping briefly, she gave herself in to the memory of the man who'd taken an interest in her, for herself, not because she was an easy lay or the Slayer but because she was Faith. She swallowed, tossing back her dark hair, squeezing the bridge of her nose, trying to keep from crying. Richard Wilkins III was a bad guy. She got that. But he'd also cared for her in a way that no one had before or since. Sometimes she thought she heard his voice. When the First had appeared to her, looking like the Mayor, it had rattled Faith more than she let on. When alone, she admitted that to herself. That it had been a shock, seeing the man who, to her, represented what Giles did to B, though, from the Dark Side of the Force end. She'd been shocked and angry. And then she'd gotten over it. The Mayor was gone and the First's head games were nothing compared to the ones played on Faith in jail and with Angelus in Angel's memories.
"Loser," Faith said to the memory of the First, facing her reflection again. She twisted from side to side, putting the memory of the last battle from her mind, studying the cut and the line of her dress. She suddenly got a flash of B, dressed for the prom or one of the other dances she went to. How'd she fight in a dress like this? Faith wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her boobs under control in normal circumstances, as low cut as her dress was, much less try one-two punch. Maybe it was glue. Didn't those wannabe Miss Americas all have their clothes glued on so they wouldn't flash the judges? Then again, B didn't really have that much in the "up top" category. Especially the way she looked the last time Faith had seen her. As far as she was concerned, B looked like a walking skeleton. And from what Faith had heard about English food, she doubted seriously the senior Slayer was gonna put on any weight there, unless she took up an alcoholic's diet.
Whatever. Faith shed all the bad memories and concerns with one all-over body shake, liking what her reflection did in the mirror. She had no doubt this dress could attract honeys like flies and her mouth curled up in a grin at the idea. Turning away from the mirror, she found her shoes and slipped them on, adding another two inches to her height.
"Faith, are you up there?" Wesley's voice rose from the lobby.
"Coming, Wes," she called, taking a last look at herself. She shook her head at the reflection and spun out of her room, running lightly down the hall to the stairs.
Wesley's appreciative glance warmed Fath through to the core as she started down the steps. The fact that he gave her a second, more lingering one, was like a shot of whiskey - burning and addictive. Second thoughts asserted themselves when she reached the landing and she hesitated. "It's too much, isn't it?"
His head shake was slow and smooth. "You are lovely, Faith," he said.
She assessed his black-tie outfit in return. Wes was still thin but she already learned what kind of strength he could pull off when he'd come to her in jail. "And there's something about a man in black," she said, dropping down the last of the stairs to take his arm. "We look hot."
"We do, don't we?" He patted her fingers, tucked into the crook of his arm lightly as he led her out of the hotel and towards his SUV. "You are armed in case of emergencies?"
"Never go anywhere without 'em." She grinned at him. Did he catch her wording? There wasn't anyplace in this dress to hide a weapon. Besides, Faith liked to improvise.
"Excellent." His own smile was crafty, devilish even and he opened the door to his SUV for her, handing her in.
Sunset stained the sky a rich red as Wesley guided the vehicle through the Los Angeles streets and towards the coast. Heavy purple clouds were rolling in from the north, dark with the promise of rain. Faith shrugged mentally; she didn't expect this dress to last the night anyway if there was a fight in the offing. This game wasn't gonna be called on account of rain. A lick of lightning stroked along the bottom of the clouds, brightening the scalloped edges.
"Storm brewing," she said, nodding towards the north.
Wesley peered at the clouds. "That shouldn't be a problem. We'll be indoors most of the evening. Before we get there, Faith, I want you to know that Mr. Black's collection is rather hotly pursued," he went on, piloting the SUV through the heavy traffic.
"Part of the trouble you mentioned earlier?"
"Possibly." A frown creased his forehead. "There are, as always, prophecies accompanying such things; some are sworn to have magical properties. They are items from various human cultures and some demon ones." His shoulders twitched slightly. "I definitely would like to see the Atereema discs."
"Yeah, you said that earlier. What's so special about them?"
"For one, they prophecy the end of the world," Wesley said, his attention focused on the road and the bluehair putzing along in front of them with an eventual left turn blinking.
"Been there, done that," Faith said.
"Yes, well, haven't we all." Wes swung the SUV around the old Chrysler and sped past it only to get stopped at the next light. "The Atereema discs specify that the Destroyer is coming, though, and I would like to have more information on that."
"Which destroyer?" Faith shrugged when her companion glanced her way. "Aren't they all destroyers?"
"This Destroyer is either supposed to save the world or obliterate it." At the sound of her huff, Wesley continued, "By all our calculations, he or she or it, for that matter, was supposed to have arrived in the world recently, within the past two years. So far," he piloted the SUV onto a road flanked by expensive houses, "we've not heard a peep from him."
"Wait, is this a Damien-Omen type thing?"
"That's what I'd like to find out."
Faith was surprised when they reached their destination, an expensive beach house overlooking the Pacific. The stiff ocean wind played with Faith's hair, tugging at her messy curls. Strange and wonderful scents whipped by on the breeze, rich chocolate, roasting meat; all of it conspiring to make her mouth water.
Lightning flashed again as they passed onto a boardwalk that led up to the house. Flanking an ancient pair of wooden double doors were a pair of stained glass windows that reached over halfway to the second floor. The light gleaming through the mosaics of red and yellow made it almost look like the entrance was on fire. As they drew closer, Faith realized that there were people in the glass, religious in nature, though in the glass arch above the doorway itself a fat yellow sun smiled jovially. It didn't seem to go with the windows but Faith wasn't complaining. Wesley touched a doorbell that was surrounded by wrought iron filigree. Faith managed to close her mouth by the time the doors opened, barely after the bell sounded. A woman, probably in her late forties, Faith guessed, with blond hair that was just starting to go ash, opened the door.
"Hello," she said cheerfully, "please come inside." She stepped back to gesture them through the entrance.
Faith wondered if this place could look anymore like a church. From the stained glass windows to the ornate wooden trim, to the iron chandeliers, stark and plain and still imposing, with lights set up in and around the crossbars to the elaborately carved table, it reminded her all too well of the altar of the church her mother had dragged her to when she was much younger.
It was just creepy, as far as she was concerned.
The woman seemed friendly though and was dressed in a beautiful dark grey sheath dress with a diamond pendant resting just above the valley of her breasts. "I'm so glad you could make it, Mr. Pryce," she said, leading them along the hallway. "Lee wasn't quite sure if anyone from Wolfram and Hart would be interested in coming out. We've had so few dealings with your offices for the past few years since Mr. McDonald left." Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug.
"We do appreciate the invitation," Wes said smoothly, "Mrs. Black."
She smiled brightly, naturally. "Please, if you don't mind, Amanda. We're all friends here." Amanda ushered them into a large room that seemed almost as big, to Faith, as the lobby of the Hyperion. Sheet windows looked out over the dunes, sea oats waving wildly under the force of the wind. Faith could see, beyond the dunes, the surf rising and curling in towards the shore. Lightning flared, illuminating the whole beach for an instant. She shivered slightly, licking her lips, wanting to go out there and run into the approaching storm.
Wesley's light touch on her elbow brought her back to earth and Faith offered a smile as Amanda clapped her hands lightly, bringing everyone's attention to the newcomers. The blonde then introduced Wesley and Faith and, squeezing both of their shoulders, gently pushed them into the room while she went to 'check on the food'.
A grey-haired man detached himself from a small group of people, including a short, monstrously fat woman with a pinched mouth and an elaborate cane, a tall, thin blond guy with shoulders broad enough to hang on to and another, scrawny woman, dressed in something that reminded Faith of a fringed, multi-striped tablecloth. He smiled as he approached, offering his hand to Wes.
"Lee Black," he said, gladhanding Faith when Wes released his hand.
"Happy to meet you at last, Mr. Black," Wesley said.
"Lee, please," he said. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves here tonight. He guided them to the hors d'oevres and made small talk for a few minutes before moving off to meet and greet more people that his wife had brought in.
"Now what," Faith asked Wesley softly.
"We mingle."
Faith wasn't looking forward to this part of the evening. She just knew she wouldn't be able to relate to these people but sticking close to Wes' side just seemed too clingy. She wanted to go out onto that balcony beyond those huge windows, let the wind blow away her nerves. Instead, she carefully began prowling around the edges of the room.
It had that same religious overtone that the hall and the entryway had; a few ornate crosses and these strange books that seemed to be made of gold with paintings of what had to be Mary and baby Jesus on them. She casually checked out the books on the shelves, not recognizing many of the titles though there were at least twenty copies of the Bible. One, under glass, had drawings in the margins, of Jesus with a dog trotting at his heels and sitting next to him while he spoke. Faith wondered if Wes had forgotten on purpose to tell her that the people hosting the dinner party were religious.
She moved on around the room, checking out the other glass cases, studying the books. She paused for a long time in front of the windows, watching as the storm rolled in. Seagulls rode the air currents the same way that surfers rode waves. She wondered where they'd take shelter from the storm. A waiter paused to offer her a glass of champagne. Faith liked the way the amber liquid bubbled in its glass and the way it slid down her throat. At least she knew enough to sip it. She'd seen Pretty Woman.
A lot of the men looked at her as she wandered. She didn't mind the attention. After all, 'flaunt it' was pretty much her motto. Some of the women glared at her, others dismissed her entirely after a glance. It was all water off her back as far as Faith was concerned. She didn't exactly like the way her stomach felt and set the champagne on the next tray a waiter carried by. It was too early in the month for her period to start, so it couldn't be that.
Mr. Black appeared on the small landing that ringed three quarters of the room, smiling at his audience. Faith rejoined Wes as Lee gathered Amanda to his side. "Good evening, everyone. I just wanted to take the time to say thank you for coming out tonight. I know the weather's beastly," he gestured at the windows behind Faith, "so I really hope that everyone has a good time. If you're anything like me, I'm sure you're starting to get hungry."
"You're right, Dad," someone said. Everyone chuckled appreciatively at the comment.
Faith craned around but didn't see the speaker as Mr. Black said, "This from my son." Amanda Black shook an admonishing finger at someone in the audience, her smile giving away her amusement. "Anyway. Before the boy dies of hunger, let's head on into the next room so you can see the artifacts."
A kid darted up the stairs, pushing at a door. He held it open, grinning cheekily as everyone passed through. "Take your time, don't rush," he said as Wes and Faith drew close. "They're not going anywhere."
Faith eyed the kid as she walked through the door. Distressed leather jacket, khaki pants, white button down shirt; all he needed was the fedora and the whip to complete the 'Young Indiana Jones' look. He caught her glance and grinned. Faith blinked. It was truly the most disturbing smile she'd ever seen. She thought the kid's head was gonna split apart.
"Oh." The single word escaped Wes like a soap bubble, floating up towards the ceiling. Faith had to pull him out of the pathway to let the rest of the people into the room. A part of her assessed it quickly and efficiently, the part that had once taken up crime to pay the bills and provide her with weapons she needed to fight the nasties. That part checked off the various deterrents in the walls, in the cases, scattered around the room, inconspicuous unless you knew where to look. The magpie part of her, the one that helped lead her to a life of crime, that part pointed and chirped at all the pretty glittering things.
Wes approached one of the cases like an ordinary man might a girl in a string bikini. Faith watched him go, shaking her head indulgently. OldWes was rearing his head. She had no doubt she'd get a lecture if she followed him over there.
Best way to avoid it was to go somewhere else.
Faith abruptly turned and made her way towards the opposite wall, people watching more than anything else. Entranced by a necklace of chunky gold and amber bits, a stylized sunburst engraved into the pendant, she paused in front of its case, the better to admire it.
"It's neat, huh?"
A faint grin curled her mouth. "Honestly, I can't tell real antiques from the old-looking crap they sell at the mall."
"Oh, God, don't let my Dad hear that."
She turned to see Indiana Jones standing next to her, leaning past her to look at the necklace. "Have a meltdown?"
He straightened and faced her. "Chernobyl would seem mild."
Faith studied the kid obliquely. He was skinny, too skinny for her tastes but it was obvious he could move. He'd sneaked up on her, after all and that took some doing. The whole outfit thing reminded her of Xander and she'd bet the kid had comic books stashed in with his porn, if he was old enough to actually have porn. This kid probably had watched every possible geek movie and seen that recent pirate one often enough to quote Johnny Depp's lines and thought they'd be cool to repeat to pick up women. He grinned again, a scary flash of teeth. "Are you checking me out?"
Cheeky little bastard. What was he, all of twelve? "You wish."
Shrugging, he said, "What can I say? I'm single." He almost managed to say it without a catch in his voice.
Faith was forced to reassess her impressions. Maybe Indy here actually had been with a real live girl. "Yeah?" She rocked back, folding her arms. "What makes you think I am?"
He laughed, another disturbing thing. This kid shouldn't laugh or smile. He just looked strange. Sort of like he was in pain. "Come on, I saw you."
"Maybe I was," Faith said. Did she just say that? Was she missing Robin that much?
"Saw you looking at the beach earlier," the kid said.
"It is a great view." She elbowed him. "Bet you check out bikinis all the time."
Indy flushed a little. "Nothing wrong with looking."
Faith poked his chest with her forefinger. "Exactly." Turning away, she checked the room over for Wes. He was in some deep conversation with the kid's dad. The rest of the guests were going from display to display; a few of them grouped in the center of the room.
"So tell me," Faith said, knowing the kid was still there, "your dad have any of these artifacts with curses on 'em?"
A bolt of lightning staggered across the sky; illuminating the room with its cold light. Thunder roared suddenly, overwhelming the sound of conversation. The lights flickered once inside the house then abruptly went out.
"Wait," Faith said. "Don't answer that."
Cries of shock filled the air. Faith blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. Lightning sizzled again, giving her a strobe-light view of the room. She winced as her belly twisted into knots, her own Slayer early warning system. "Oh, God." Demons.
The kid's hand was on her elbow. She didn't remember when he'd caught hold of her, only that she couldn't do this with him hanging on. Jerking her arm free, she took two steps away before he could grab her again. She closed her eyes again, sifting through the room with the rest of her senses. There were people reacting to the darkness, bumping into things, giggling over their nervousness. Mr. Black was announcing that everyone should stay calm, the lights would be back on in a few. Faith tuned him out abruptly. Her mouth watered. Did she actually smell chocolate chip cookies?
Faith opened her eyes in time for the lightning flash. She matched the positions of everyone she could see against her memory of just a few seconds before (that wasn't right, she thought/felt/knew) and moved.
She heard the side seams of her dress rip as she leaped into the air, spinning in a circle, her right leg snapping out. Her two-inch heel cracked against a skull. Faith landed, hearing a groan in front of her. Legs slightly bent and spread to give her a stable base, she punched hard, feeling her right fist hit something soft and giving. Something that smelled like chocolate chip cookies.
A screech came from somewhere in the room and she leaped away, hearing the whistle of an arm pass by her ear. Bouncing from one foot to the other, Faith yanked off her shoes. The next lightning bolt gave her a quick glimpse of the room. She ran, letting the afterimages guide her.
Someone crashed into her, knocking her down. Faith slid across the floor on one shoulder, feeling the carpet burn into her skin. Her shoes were lost. Swearing in her mind, she rolled to her feet, scanning the room for strange sounds. There was a panting noise, heavy and moist, somewhere nearby. Faith shifted her weight from back foot to front foot, using the momentum to strike hard. Her knuckles skimmed by something fleshy. Overextended, Faith lost her balance. The demon, what sort of demon smelled like chocolate chip cookies, took advantage of her awkward stance. Something as bony as an elbow crunched into her back between her shoulders, sending her sprawling. Faith grunted as she hit the floor again, rolling to the right, trying to clip the legs of her attacker.
It was too heavy for her to move that way.
Faith knew it was gonna try to stomp on her. She coiled up like a pill bug, forcing her limbs outwards suddenly, an explosion of hands and feet. She hit something, she felt it give. The demon yelped. Faith couldn't help the smugness that flooded her. She kicked straight up, her butt leaving the floor, her hands pushing her up that much higher so her feet thrust up into the demon's face. She heard the crack of its neck snapping back, hoping that was it for this one.
Twisting her body to land on her bare feet, Faith rotated in a tight circle. The party crowd must've figured out something was wrong. Moans and whimpers cluttered the air. Over all of that, she caught a sound, a scuff then a scrape. Something wobbled, a case? Something on top of a shelf? Whatever it was, Faith pinpointed the sound and darted towards it. She crashed into another of the fleshy, chocolate chip demons and bounced off, nearly knocked on her butt again. Faith managed to keep her feet this time, her fists raising together for one nasty uppercut. It went down without a sound, just a heavy slump of flesh. Faith jumped over it. There was at least one more of the demons and when she'd last seen it, it was dragging Lee Black from the room.
Faith burst through the door, Wes suddenly beside her. His jacket was missing and he wore a pair of metal stakes like bayonets, poking out from under his wrists. Faith didn't have time to admire his weapons. The demons, damn, there was more than one, how many crashed this party, anyway, had picked up Mr. Black and were hustling him along. A lightning flash hovered in the air for the count of three slow heartbeats, illuminating the room. Faith wished suddenly for Angel's weapon rack. It'd be easier if Black collected axes or swords instead of this religious crap. Wes was already moving across the room and she charged past him, leaping high in the air, arms and legs spread to cause the greatest impact.
Her attack threw them all against the balcony windows.
"Oh, fu-"
Thunder exploded across the sky as the glass shattered. They all spilled out onto the balcony, rolling in bunches towards the railing. Faith hit hard, the air crushed from her lungs. She tried frantically to push dough boy demon off of her, bucking despite the pain in her back, punching and jabbing with fists and knees and elbows, butting with her head. Something rose against the sky, against the darkness of the building and Faith's eyes widened. She squinched in reflexively as Wesley stabbed down, the metal spike on his arm skewering the demon's skull like one of those toothpick- speared olives in a martini. The demon shuddered once and collapsed, its weight still compressing Faith's ribs. With Wes' help, she managed to wriggle her way out from under it. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Wes," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath.
"I told you there'd be trouble," Wes said grimly.
"Where are they?" She panted as she got to her feet, using the railing as a brace.
The storm answered her question, lighting up the whole beach for a split second. The demons were about fifty yards away, heading for the ocean, Lee Black still in their grips. Something glittered arcanely in that flash of lightning. Wes grasped the rail in both hands, saying something like, "Chunk-pop-click demons. They're trying to raise a click-click-chip-pop from the ocean but they need the blood of the person who owns the artifact to do it."
Faith vaulted over the railing before he stopped talking, hearing the thud as Wes followed her. They both ran down the beach, the soft sand slowing them down. Faith picked up speed as her toes dug into the harder packed sand, the high tide line, surging ahead of Wes. The chunk-pops were almost at the water's edge, Black struggling against them. Behind her, Faith could faintly hear screams and shouts and wondered if Amanda would be calling nine-one-one and what she'd say to the cops. Then someone raced past her and she lost that train of thought.
It was the kid, whirling a baseball bat above his head like it weighed nothing. He plowed right into the chunk-pops, the bat connecting solidly with heads and shoulders, sending two of the demons staggering. His father fell into the surf and then Faith was there, tackling the nearest chunkie. They dominoed into another one, all three of them crashing into the water, Faith on top. Right where she liked it. She kicked out with her foot, her heel catching one of the demons under the neck, its head snapping to the side with a satisfying crunch. The other one tried to crawl out from under its companion and Faith jumped, landing on its shoulders, shoving it back beneath the waves.
"No, Faith!" Wes' shout caught her attention but his, "They gain strength in the water!" was too late.
She went flying deeper into the ocean, the heavy surf catching her. Her nose, spine and knees were scraped when the waves tumbled her over the ocean bed, the sand cutting into her skin. Flailing, Faith managed to gain her feet, the waves nearly knocking her off her feet until she splashed to the shallower water.
The kid was battling for all he was worth, moving like a dervish. Wes was there too, the storm light flashing off the cold metal of his bayonets where they weren't coated with the demons' ichor. A demon grabbed the kid and flung him into the waves then turned its attention to Wes. Faith grabbed the nearest chunkie, hauling it around to face her. It towered over her and she could see in its own face to the disguise of tall skinny man Lee Black had been talking to earlier. Faith grinned, hauling back and punching it in the nose, feeling the cartilage give way. "That's for wrecking my dress," she said.
Its head snapped back but it remained standing, its own smile echoing hers, its doughy hands coming up to clutch at her neck. "You won't escape."
"You wanna bet?" Faith kicked its knee at the same time she threw her arms up between the chunkie's, her elbows striking the inner bend of her opponent's. It went down that time and she used its body as a springboard, leaping onto the back of the one holding Mr. Black. They all went sprawling, Lee landing on the sand, Faith and the demon in the water. She sprang off of it, taking a stance between the man and the demon. Water plastered her hair and what was left of her dress to her skin. Her wounds stung where the salt and sand dug into them. Lightning flashed overhead and Faith smiled.
"You want him? You gotta go through me."
The chunkie got to its feet, holding something in its left hand, a dully- glittering sphere covered in hieroglyphs. "Don't have to," it said, its voice malicious. Faith recognized it as the obese little woman from earlier in the night. "I already have his blood." She spun, holding the towards the sky, shouting something in clicks and pops and whistles, then reared back, the sphere flying from her hand.
Faith lunged, knowing there was no way she could reach the ball. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wes battle a standing chunkie, leaping over it as it sank under the water, no where near close enough. She heard Black's yell in the background, saw the kid suddenly rise out of the waves like a pint-sized Godzilla, water sluicing from his body, the bat firmly in his hands. He hauled on the bat, swinging it forward, the aluminum striking the sphere with a crack that echoed in the lightning flash that came from the sky.
The chunkie screeched in disbelief as the sphere came whistling back towards her, a line drive right down the center. The ball struck, the snap of the chunkie's neck audible even over the thunder. The chunkie fell back, fingers clutching at the sphere embedded in its flesh, strange whistles coming from that damaged throat. Faith dodged out of the way, hauling Black with her as the chunkie crashed to the ground.
"Get the sphere!" Wesley shouted, stabbing both finger and bayonet at the hunk of metal. "Don't let the water touch it!"
Faith dove back in, kneeling on the demon's doughy chest, digging for the sphere in the chunkie's ruined flesh. She could hear the roar of the wave behind her, heard a sloshing sound and another shout of warning. Hunching her shoulders, she punched down into that neck, digging for and finding the sphere, hauling it back out, ignoring the grisly feel of blood and flesh and bone scraping along her hand.
"Faith!" Wesley's howl somehow was louder than the storm and she leaped forward, only to have something dig into her shoulder, hauling her back.
A remaining chunkie leaned in, breath washing over Faith with the smell of cookies. "You've got something of mine," it said.
"Want it?" Faith juggled the ball, wincing as the fingers dug deeper into her shoulder. She flung it towards the shore. "Play fetch."
The demon roared, its meaty hands grasping Faith to shove her beneath the water. She tried to fight up but she was off balance, her left leg pinned by her own body. She couldn't find a purchase, her hands flailing, sliding up the arms of the chunkie who held her at a distance, too far away to punch or jab or save herself. Stars burst in Faith's skull like lightning and she wondered if Buffy had felt this way when she died. She could see the blur of her attacker above; hoped Wes would get the sphere, keep it and Mr. Black safe. She hoped the kid would be okay. Her stomach cramped up and bubbles leaked from her mouth and nose, reaction to the pain. Another shadow loomed above her and suddenly, she was free.
Faith burst from the water, gasping and choking, snot running down her face and tears spilling from her eyes. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear, could only suck air like water in great whoops and coughs. Shaking her head to clear it, she managed to see someone pounding something in the waves, a weapon glistening up into the air and then down into the water. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Faith lunged across the waves, a scream tearing from her aching throat as she rammed the kid, taking him down into the water.
Lighting sizzled overhead, the bolt shooting from the sky quick as a snake's tongue, licking the air around her. The bat exploding above the kid's head. Twin scents, ozone and cordite, flooded the air, striking a memory of Willow's magic. Faith flung an arm over her eyes automatically, her skin tingling where it wasn't pressed into the kid's body. The blow echoed in her ears, the only thing she could hear then her heart started pounding again. Faith rolled off the kid, grabbing him by the jacket to haul him to his feet. They both staggered out of the water and onto the sand, following Wes, who was trying to persuade Mr. Black to get back into the house.
Someone ran down the beach towards them. Faith realized dully that it was Amanda, flinging herself into the arms of her husband, clinging to him and propping him up, much the same way she and the kid were doing for each other. Wesley released Black, his arms dangling, exhaustion evident in his pose. Faith wondered where his bayonets had gone. She staggered up to him, the kid not protesting. She released Indy to stand by herself, swaying slightly. "Wes, we need to get inside."
"Yes," he said, reaching into the pocket of his pants to pull out that ball. "I suppose Mr. Black will be wanting this back."
Faith plucked it out of his hand, turning it in hers. It didn't feel right and she wrinkled her nose, passing it back to her companion. She and Wes started towards the house, Indy following them slowly. Faith noticed he bent over at one point, picking up something. "You back there, kid?"
He straightened, glancing back towards the ocean then moved up to join them. He held a piece of twisted metal in his hands. "The bat," he said, wiggling it at them.
"What you did was very heroic," Wesley said, straightening as much as he could.
"Maybe we should save this for inside," Faith said, grabbing Wes' arm to march him along. The kid followed a step or two behind. She twisted to say to him, "You're a damn good fighter."
His face was lit by another flare of lightning. "My Father taught me."
"Yeah?" She cocked her head to one side, more than a little surprised that Black knew how to fight dirty. A tickle started in her memory and she squinted at the kid, wiping water from her eyes impatiently.
"Have we met?" Wesley asked, confusion coloring his words. "I'm sorry, you just seem so familiar."
The kid tossed back his soaked hair, his stance changing, his expression darkening as he stared Wes full in the face. "You know me," he said, sounding bitter. "And I know you both."
"Connor," Faith whispered. His name struck like an electric shock. She felt something important begin to slide away. Something old, like a memory of a dream, was coming into focus. Somehow, knowing that kid's name, she knew that everything was gonna change.
Again.
* * *