Author’s Note: The distance between Reno, Nevada and Los Angeles is 388 miles or 625 km.
Reno, Nevada, October 17, 2005
Sitting in the truck camper at a rest stop just outside Reno, Nevada, Spike was pensive, contemplating his future, and what his plan of action should be. Illyria had managed to drag him out of the Hyperion right out from under Angelus’ nose. It was a miraculous escape that had Spike now understanding why both Angelus and the Council considered Illyria to be such a prize. Her powers might not be equal to what they were, but she was still a cunning warrior. Staring morosely at his plate of buffalo wings, extra spicy, he pushed them around with his fork. For once, he had no appetite.
“I bought them at the bar and grill by our old apartment,” Illyria said with a worried tone. “Where you always liked to go.” She paused, staring at Spike. “You must still be ill to have no appetite.”
“Yes. . .no. . .I. . . .” Spike shrugged, while shoving his plate away. “Just trying to figure out what to do, love. I’d like nothing better than to keep driving north, find that ice cave in northern Canada, and hide-out for the next century. Maybe by then the Council, Angelus, Buffy, and the lot of them will have disappeared from the face of the Earth. Solve our problems.”
“That is my plan.” Illyria tilted her head in confusion. “So what is the difficulty?”
“Because I can’t bloody well hide-out anywhere.” Spike’s voice raised a notch, as he stood up. He wanted to pace, but one step and he was nose-to-nose with the refrigerator. There was just no room in the camper. “I promised Angelus that I would stand by his side in the up-coming war; the stupidest promise I ever made, and trust me, I‘ve made a lot of stupid ones in my time.”
“And if you break it?”
Sighing, Spike leaned back against the camper’s stove, while wrapping his arms around himself. “The Poof and I have exchanged blood. He’ll smell me out like a bloodhound. There’ll be no hiding from him now. I wish I could tell you to run, pet, but I also made a promise to him to help find you. I guess he and the Council think you’re the X factor if a war breaks out.”
“So we fight.” Illyria was matter-of-fact. “And we fight with Angel.”
“No.” Spike banged on the stove with a fist. “We side with Angelus, but we have to find a way to prevent a war. It’s just too bad that the man is barking mad. Can’t reason with him at all. But. . . .” An idea struck him. “Faith agreed with me that a bloody war would not do any of us any good, so. . . .”
“We speak with her,” Illyria stated in her usual expressionless tone.
“Ye-ah.” A thoughtful smile crossed Spike’s face, as his brain worked furiously. “We need to turn this truck around and head back to LA. There, we speak to Faith, before Angelus finds us.”
“Agreed.” Illyria swept their plates off the table into the waste basket. “I’ll drive.”
“No, love, let me drive for now, and as it gets closer to sunrise you can have a turn. But if I do most of the driving, we’ll make this trip in a little more than five hours..”
**
“Turn right, no, no, left.” Sitting in the camper and speaking through the small window that connected the camper to the cab of the truck, Spike was attempting to give Illyria directions to the hotel, where Faith was staying. The problem was that since he had been drunker than a skunk that night, he didn’t quite remember where said hotel was.
Tires squealed, horns honked, as Illyria made a sharp right cutting off the car alongside of her.
“Jeez, love!” Spike had to brace himself against the wall to keep himself from falling on the floor. “We may be immortal, but being in an accident always hurts like hell.”
“If your instructions were more precise, I could drive with greater caution.”
“Well, I would, except,” Spike paused, as he scratched his head. “I can’t exactly remember where the bloody hotel is. I know it wasn’t far from the pub we. . .turn right here!” The corner mini mart that suddenly appeared in sight jogged his memory. “It’s a couple of streets down from here.”
“Are you sure?” Illyria asked doubtfully. This was the third time Spike had announced that the hotel was just a few blocks away.
“Absolutely, well, maybe a tad less that absolutely, but. . . .there it is!” Spike pointed a finger with excitement. “Now I just hope that Faith hasn’t relocated. Go around to the rear, pet. The Slayer‘s room is in the back.”
Pulling into the Budget Suite Hotel, Illyria carefully negotiated the truck around to the back and into a parking space. “Now what?” she asked, as she shut off the engine and turned to look at Spike.
Peering out the window, Spike knew that daybreak was going to occur shortly. They needed to act fast. “Let’s beard the lion in its den,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just trust Faith is still of the same mind.”
**
October 18, 2005
“I must say, Faith, your work was very sloppy yesterday. You outnumbered the enemy six to two, and one still got away, and the important one at that.”
Sitting across the desk in a plush office of the once evil law firm of Wolfram & Hart, Faith counted to ten silently, pushing down the impulse to smash the face of the man, who sat across from her. Jameson Robens. He didn’t quite have the posh name like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, but he did have the same superior attitude that Wesley had started out with.
“So why don’t you explain to me how Illyria managed to slip through your fingers?” Folding his hands on top of the desk, Jameson leaned forward.
Giving herself points for not beating Jameson Robens to a pulp, Faith grinned widely at the Council Suit, as she silently referred to him. “I only do my explaining to Giles. So why don’t you pick up the phone and dial him up. I’ll explain to him, and allow you to stay in the room and listen in on the conversation.”
Jameson leaned back in his chair, displeasure written clearly on his face. “I most certainly will not be picking up the phone to ring anyone now or in the near future. You will explain yourself to me, and you will do so now.”
Picking at the threads in the knee hole in her jeans, Faith gave a short laugh. “I don’t think so, bub. Maybe you haven’t heard, but since Buffy isn’t with us anymore, I’m the big shot Slayer around here, and we do things my way.” Standing up, she threw Jameson a contemptuous look. “And right now, this conversation is over.”
Strolling out of the office, Faith paused a moment in the foyer. Much of the building had been destroyed when Wolfram & Hart unleashed hell on Earth, but the main structure had remained, and now the Council was rebuilding the once evil law firm to be their main headquarters for the western half of the United States. She did wonder about the irony of the situation. Making her way upstairs to the lab, she stopped to check once more on an unconscious Spike.
“May I help you?” She was greeted coldly by the resident head scientist, whose name tag read Judson Henry. In another time or place, Faith might have found him hot, but unfortunately his tone was just as snotty as Jameson’s.
“Why is he still unconscious?” She waved a hand at Spike, who was strapped down to a gurney. “You told me that it would only temporarily knock him out. And why. . . .?” She stepped closer to examine Spike with a more thorough eye. “Is he such a pasty yellow?”
“Just a temporary effect of the tranquilizer,” Henry answered quickly.
Too quickly as warning bells went off in Faith’s head. Henry was lying. A couple of options occurred to her, one being, pounding Henry’s head against the wall until he cried, but she hastily realized that starting a fight with everyone at Council Headquarters wasn’t probably one of your more strategic moves.
“And just when will the effects wear off?” she flashed Henry one of her killer smiles, putting on a I’m-just-a-dumb-slayer-who’s-asking-an-innocent-question expression.
“I’m expecting some changes by this evening.” Henry smiled back at Faith; he wasn’t totally immune to her charms.
“Great.” Faith acted nonchalant, as she turned to leave. “I’ll stop by then.” Moving with a deliberate leisure pace, she made her way to the elevator. Her plan was to head back to her hotel and out of earshot of the Council Suits. It was time she spoke with Giles or Willow.
**
A fruitless trip trying to track down his wayward Childe had Angelus banging his way into the Hyperion, his mood foul. “Did he show up yet?” he barked at his Lieutenant, who was standing in the hotel’s lobby awaiting his return.
“No-o Master,” the Lieutenant replied, instinctively flinching, expecting the usual blow from an enraged Angelus.
‘Goddamn him!” Angelus swore, as he grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on and threw it across the room. “That boy is going to learn to. . . .” The slim figure of Illyria entering the Hyperion stopped his rant. “You! I smelled your scent the day my Childe went missing. What do you know?”
“They took him,” Illyria answered, her voice calm and dispassionate. “The Slayer named Faith and her people took him.”
**
“Jesus Christ!” After slamming down the telephone receiver, Faith lit a cigarette; smoking always helped her think. This was the umpteenth she had tried to contact one of the Old Gang, and it was the umpteenth same result. No one was available.
“Faith, girl,” she spoke to herself. “Something is fishy in Denmark, or is it Sweden?” She pondered for a moment; it redirected her mind off the worrisome thoughts that something was terribly wrong, not just here in LA with ol’ Robens and Henry, but in England, Italy, perhaps the whole of Europe, South America, and. . . .
“Faith!” An urgent pounding on her door interrupted her dark musing. She recognized the voice as Dana, her second-in-command. “Open up! Vampires coming this way, and there’s a pack of them.”
“Fuck!” Rushing to the door, Faith swung it open, and immediately saw the mob headed their way. “Christ, that’s Angelus leading the way. Get in your rooms!” she ordered the girls, who were out on the sidewalks on both upper and lower floors. “Grab weapons and stay there until I tell you to come out.”
“Looks like they’re carrying gasoline.” Dana spied the gas cans being carried by a couple of the vampires. “Probably gonna burn us out. Don‘t know if it‘s such a good idea to hole up in our rooms, even if they are vamp-proofed.”
“Dana,” Faith warned. Her second-in-command had fighting skills that rivaled hers, but she also had an unfortunate habit of speaking her mind, which deep down Faith admired, but it was hell having an outspoken critic when she was supposed to be the leader. “Do as I say, now!”
Stepping quickly back in her own room, Faith grabbed a cross and a stake. Despite the threatening appearance of Angelus and his minions, she was partly glad he was here. She need to speak with him; she just hoped he was in the mood to listen.
“Angel,” she called out, as she ran to meet the vampires, stopping a good fifteen feet from them. “I need to talk with you.”
“The name’s Angelus,” he snarled out, taken slightly aback at the seemingly stupid move of Faith by coming to greet them alone. “Where’s Spike?” he asked, as he raised a hand, signaling his followers to stop and wait.
“He’s at Council headquarters here in LA.” Faith was quick to answer; anything to appease Angelus and buy her more time to explain. “He’s badly injured.”
“Is that so?” Angelus took a threatening step toward her. “And I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“Angelus!” Faith raised both her cross and stake in a gesture to keep him from coming closer. “I’ve got an army of slayers at my back, and if you start anything now, it’ll be a slaughterhouse.”
“What you don’t understand, Faithy, is that is exactly why I came here, to slaughter me some slayers.” Demon visage coming forth, Angelus’ smile was a sinister leer.
“I thought your intention was to find Spike?” Faith backed up a step, while anxiously throwing a glance at the hotel. She could feel the other slayers’ nervous energy. They were poised to attack, and if they did, there would be no stopping the battle and the subsequent blood bath. “I can help you rescue him.”
“And why would I need your help?” Angelus continued to slowly advance.
“Because the Council poisoned him with something.” This time Faith stopped her retreat and stepped forward to meet Angelus. “And I can tell you the man, who’s responsible for it. He lied and told me it was a tranquilizer, but I saw Spike just a few hours ago. He’s still unconscious and his coloring is off; it was no sedative that I shot him up with.”
Faith’s assertion halted Angelus for a moment. “You attacked him and Illyria, and injected him with what you thought was a tranquilizer?” he asked puzzled. The scenario just didn’t make sense.
“Our goal was to capture her.“ Faith nodded over at Illyria, who was standing a few feet behind Angelus. “And just knock Spike out. I was told that we were then going to just talk with him, convince him to come over to our side because after all, he’s a vampire with a soul, and just recently saved the world. They lied to me, but. . . .“ She paused, deciding that Angelus didn’t need to know the concerns she had with her bosses. “I can make this right.”
“And why would you want to do that?” Angelus eyed her with suspicion.
“Because I was lied to, and I’m mad as hell. Spike doesn’t deserve this; he doesn’t deserve being betrayed by someone, who once fought at his side to save the World. When it is his time, he needs to die a hero’s death.”
**
“Dana, this doesn’t involve you, so go back to the hotel, and. . . .”
“Of course, it involves me.” Dana stared back at Faith with an unflinching expression. She was not fazed at all by Faith’s death glare. “He. . . .” She pointed at Angelus helped me, and I owe him.”
Faith sighed, as her gaze swept around the Hyperion’s lobby. “You don’t owe him anything. It was Angel, who saved you, not. . . .”
“His soulless self,” Dana interrupted. “That’s okay, because he saved me when I was soulless, so it evens out.”
Faith was speechless for a moment, trying to make sense of Dana’s logic. There were times that she pegged the other slayer as a borderline simpleton, but now and then she wondered if Dana’s reasoning was that of a someone, who had deep insight, and not that of a half-wit.
“After your arguments with both Robens and Henry, they’ll be suspicious if you suddenly show up with a captured Angelus. But they’ll never suspect me.”
“Right.” Faith let out a short laugh. “They’ll believe that a newbie like yourself brought down and caught the notorious Angelus.”
Dana shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ve fought him before, and he wasn’t that hard, and at that time I was untrained and unhinged; now, I certainly wouldn’t have a problem.”
Dana’s confident-bordering-on-the-arrogant remark had Angelus’ head snapping up, as he stared calculatingly at her. “That’s wasn’t the true me you fought,” he growled out, as he continued to study her with a shrewd eye.
Faith was very aware that now Dana had captured Angelus’ interest, and that he was seizing up the young slayer. His attention was a dangerous thing. “Look,” she began again, marshalling her arguments in her head. She needed to get her protégé out of this situation and away from Angelus. “This mess is my doing, and. . . .”
“It wasn’t just you,” Dana interrupted again. “We were there, helping.” Her gaze swung over to Illyria. “And I still don’t know how she got away from us.”
“That’s final then.” Angelus had made his decision. “You. . . .” He looked at Dana. “Will come with me to retrieve my Childe, and you.” His eyes cut to Faith, while he transmitted a silent command, which Illyria and a minion instantly obeyed, as they both grabbed Faith by the arms. “Will stay here. If I don’t return, kill her,” he ordered. “And if I do return, but without Spike, then. . . .” He stepped close to Faith. “I’m going to finish what I started two years ago. Gonna take you, Faithy, hard and rough, just how you like it.”
She knew it was pointless to struggle, since the ex-demon goddess and the vampire had steel holds on her, but she couldn’t help but give it a try for a moment anyway. “I was trying to help you,” she said through gritted teeth, as she looked over at Dana, who was surrounded by Angelus’ minions, each with a sword pointed at her different parts of her body.
“And you are.” Angelus’ eyes glowed amber. “By being my insurance policy.”
**
October 19, 2005
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Hands over her ears, Faith was trying to shut out the screaming, but her attempt had little effect.
“This is your frigging fault, you know.” Sitting across from her, a wan and sickly Spike stared at her accusingly. “I was coming to discuss a plan to prevent a war, and you just bloody attacked me. Now I’m dying, and,” he broke off, as he looked up at the Hyperion’s mezzanine, where Angel had a noose around Judson Henry’s neck and was pushing and pulling him off the balcony’s railing. “The bloody war has started.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Faith closed her eyes for a moment; she didn’t need Spike pointing out her enormous blunders. Guilt was weighing heavily on her conscience.
“The rope is slipping,” Dana called up helpfully, which had Faith sighing loudly, while giving the younger Slayer a disbelieving look.
“You’re a good guy, Dana. Stop sliding over to the dark side. Just tell him what he wants to know.” She couldn’t help herself, as she yelled the advice to Henry, who was currently being dangled in the air over their heads.
“Maybe he doesn’t know anything.” Spike’s head was thrown back, as he stared upward, watching Henry being dragged back over the mezzanine’s railing, coughing and choking.
“If that’s the case, can we convince Angelus to stop the torture?” Faith asked, wincing as Angelus threw poor Henry over the railing again. The agonized man’s legs flailed and hands clawed at the noose.
“Nope.” Spike shook his head. “The Ponce is not a merciful bloke.”
Despite Spike’s assertion, Faith couldn’t help but try. “He doesn’t know how to cure Spike; he’s just a flunkey,” she shouted up at Angelus.
“A lying, treacherous flunkey,” Dana added loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“Thanks for the help, Darth Dana.” Faith turned her head to giving her protégé another death glare.
“Is that so?” Angelus moved languidly but with purpose, as he dragged Henry to the staircase and then threw him down the stairs.
Faith winced again, as she watched the young man’s body bounce down the stairs. Thankfully, the fall knocked him out, and it was an unconscious Henry, who now lie at the bottom of the staircase.
“You told me that he was the one, who gave you weapon, which was dipped in a toxin.” Angelus’ every step on the staircase was slow and deliberate, as he stared at Faith with a dark frown.
“Yeah, but he was just following orders. He was told that the claw was poisoned and the name of the poison, but that’s probably all he knows.”
“Illyria, who possesses all of Fred’s knowledge, says. . . .” Angelus gave a quick glance at the woman next to him. “That she’s never heard of such a poison. So, your man here. . . .” He gave Henry’s body a hard kick before stepping over him. “Is either lying, or it is something new in the Council’s weapons’ arsenal.”
“I need to get a hold of Giles,” Faith said with a hint of desperation. “I’m sure he knows the answer to all of this.” She swung an arm in Spike’s direction.
“And just how do you plan to contact Giles, love?” Spike asked. “I believe you are now persona non grata with the Council along with. . . .” He glanced fleetingly at Dana. “Your sidekick here.”
“I know.” Faith sighed, as her brain worked furiously, trying to figure out a way to reverse her actions of the last forty-eight hours. “But if I can speak to Giles, then I can make all of this right. I have to get a hold of anyone from the old gang: Dawn, Willow, or even Xan. . . .”
Screams, yells, and the unmistakable sounds of a battle interrupted her, and a split second later, a dozen or more Slayers came charging through the Hyperion’s front door. Years of experience and instinct had Faith grabbing Dana to make a fast retreat. The enemy had taken them by surprise and was too strong to fight.
Angelus and Illyria were of the same mind, as Angelus scooped up Spike from the couch and the three headed for the back exit. With Dana in tow, Faith quickly followed the vampire and the former demon goddess. One quick backward glance and she saw Judson Henry, his head separated from his body. Her former comrades had made it a priority to kill him first.
**
October 20, 2005, Interstate 80, near Sterling, Colorado
“So what the fuck knowledge did Henry have that the Council was so afraid of us finding out?” Lounging in one of the kitchen table seats of the camper (it had been the vehicle closest to the Hyperion’s back exit, when they had made their escape, which had proven fortuitous, since now they found themselves fleeing LA), Faith was thinking out loud.
“Don’t think the git knew anything useful.” Being the invalid, Spike had the privilege of being able to occupy the queen size bed, which was positioned over the roof of the truck. “If he had, he would had spilled it to Angelus. No one, human or demon, can hold out on the Ponce of Torture.”
“Okay, but those slayers came in with the purpose of killing him, capturing us was only a secondary goal. And what the fuck?” Faith leaned forward to get a better view of Angelus and Dana, who were seated up the truck cab. “Those two are chatting away like old friends. What in the hell does Dana have to talk about with Angelus, Scourge of Europe?”
Spike hung his head down to see through the pass-through window. “She certainly is nattering away. Funny that, since the Poof’s conversation is usually as boring as a table lamp.”
“Angel is boring, not Angelus,” Faith contradicted, starting to realize that her plan of making Dana sit with Angelus was backfiring.
“Wrong, love.” Spike sat back up on the bed. “Angelus is just as boring as Angel; it’s just that his boring is psychotic, which,” he paused a moment. “Maybe that’s the link between the two, psycho vampire, psycho slayer; they speak the language of crackpot.”
“Jeez.” Faith continued to stare into the truck’s cab, her face set in a worried frown. “She’s really. . .Spike, use that superior hearing of yours, and tell me what they’re saying.”
Leaning down below the bed, Spike took another long look at Angelus and Dana. “I told you, they’re speaking balmy talk, but look at that, they’re. . .they’re not just talking, but laughing and. . .she just gave the Poof a flirtatious punch on the arm! Bloody hell, Faith.” He glared over at her. “Think you need to tell your partner the story of the little slayer, who fell for the big, bad vampire, and how no good came of it. Course, you would have thought that she had heard that lesson already, being that it has to be included in Slayer 101.”
“Spike!” Faith spoke through gritted teeth. “Shut-up and open those vampire ears of yours.”
“Right.” Spike straightened himself up and crawled over to the far corner of the bed. “Now, if Illyria would just turn the volume down on her video game.”
“Listening in on their conversation is pointless,” Illyria argued as she paused her game and grabbed the television’s remote. “What they speak about is something that cannot be controlled.”
“I control it.” Faith was now standing, arms folded across her chest, as she continued to stare through the small, pass-through window. “I’ll tell her she can’t ride up front with Angelus anymore.”
“Someone should be with him.” Illyria also stood-up and looked out into the truck. “It would not be good strategy to leave him by himself, driving.”
“Spike can ride with him. We’ll make up the back seat with a couple of pillows and. . . .”
“I’m not sitting up with the Poof,” Spike interrupted. “It’s bad enough I’m stuck with him during the daylight hours; I’m not going to be stuck with him at night too.”
“Okay, then.” Faith turned to Illyria. “You can ride up with him, being the big ex-goddess and all. The two of you can plan battle strategies and, and, reminisce about the olden days, or whatever.”
“I will plan battle strategies when the time comes, but for now, there is no need, so I have nothing to discuss with Angelus,” Illyria said flatly. “And I have no desire to be in his company more than it is necessary; he provokes me.”
Illyria’s statement elicited a snort of laughter from the corner of the bed.
“Shut-up, Spike,” Faith retorted immediately, annoyance rising in her. It seemed that she was stuck riding up with Angelus, and the prospect depressed her. She could already hear his taunts and jibes. A hot poker to the eye would be more pleasurable. “Well. . . ?“ She tapped her foot in impatience and irritation. “What are they saying?”
“She’s telling him about the time spent in the loony bin, and he’s, he’s, blimey.” Spike raised his head in bafflement. “The Ponce is actually acting all sympathetic and speaking civilly with her.” He stared over at Faith. “Think the Old Boy likes her.”
“She’s a valuable warrior,” Illyria said. “He’s courting her; he wants her on his side.”
“This is just fucking great,” Faith muttered under her breath. “I’m screwed with the Council, and my only ally is developing a crush on the notorious Angelus. I’ve officially hit rock bottom.”
“You’ve only yourself to blame.” Spike was unsympathetic, as he rolled over on his back. He had ceased his eavesdropping.
“Yeah, yeah.” Faith plopped herself back down on the kitchen seat. She didn’t need Spike telling her again how she had brought on her current woes.
“So. . . .” Illyria sat down opposite her and picked up the video game controller. “Are you going to tell Angelus to stop the truck, so you can go and sit up with him?”
**
October 21, 2005, Interstate 80, East of Chicago
Waking-up with a groan, Spike raised his hands to his head. Whatever toxic substances were poisoning his system, they gave him an awful headache, which refused to go away, no matter what remedies he tried: sleep, slayer’s blood, sire’s blood, a combination of the two, or even the usual cure-all, booze. It was like having a permanent hang-over, which had him cursing the Council ten ways to Sunday.
“Fuck’ell!” he opened gum-stuck eyes to the usual scene of Illyria playing video games, and Faith sitting across from her looking glum. “Faith, what the bloody hell are you doing here. Thought. . . .” He cautiously lowered his head below the bed to look out into the truck cab. “Psycho slayer is still entertaining the Poof. Thought you weren’t going to allow her to ride up with him?”
“I tried,” Faith said with a defeatist tone. “I sat with him for a few hours, tried talking to him civilly, tried trading insults, tried not talking. But I couldn’t take it anymore. It was like seeing that pit full of Ubervamps; they were never ending. I felt like riding up front with him would be never ending.”
“Thought the two of you spent quality time in some drugged induced coma, where you relived memories of his boring unlife; how could this be worse?” Spike gave her a puzzled stare. “And also, aren’t you throwing away your little trainee to the big, bad vampire.”
“First of all, attendance was mandatory during that drug induced coma I had with Angelus; I couldn’t leave it because I was dying. And second of all, Dana was never a little trainee. After she had been dosed with tons of meds and psychiatric whatever, she got better, so we prepared her as a slayer. But that girl didn’t need any preparation; she knew what to do, how to fight. Hate to say, but she was even better than me, when I was chosen.”
“Right,” Spike agreed, as he lifted his hands to study them. How well he remembered little Dana from over a year ago. She had handled him with ease, taking him down and then cutting off both hands. It was his most humiliating defeat. “So you figure that she doesn’t need any protection from Angelus? Ever occur to you that nothing good can come of a union between a psycho vampire and a psycho slayer?”
“Yes,” Faith mumbled, ashamed and embarrassed. “But hey, Angelus already lost his soul, can’t lose another one, can he? Besides, in another day, and we’ll be in New York. Dana and I will go our separate ways, and. . . .”
“Neither one of you will be going anywhere.” Illyria finally looked up from her video game. “Not until he. . . .” She nodded over at Spike. “Is cured.”
“So.” Faith raised her head, a challenge in her eye, as she glared at the Old One. “You think that you and the big, tough Scourge of Europe can stop two slayers? Two slayers, who by-the-way are the best of the. . . .”
“Two?” Illyria interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “Are you so sure your partner will back you against us?” She leaned forward to look meaningfully through the pass-through window, where Angelus and Dana were talking and laughing.
“Fuck!” Faith rested her head on the palms of her hands. “I’m totally screwed.”
**