“Witnesses recall moments of abject terror as a gunman with a military-grade sniper rifle climbed to the roof of an office building and opened fire on unsuspecting shoppers, injuring at least one man. That man, Mark Preston, remains in critical condition at Metro Health Medical Centre. This tragedy took a gruesome twist, however, when police found the gunman beheaded, his rifle stolen. Officials say that they are pursuing all avenues of investigation, and are still interviewing witnesses. There were several reports of a woman with what appeared to be a sword in the nearby area, but police admit that they have no useful leads.

The mayor’s office issued a statement earlier today condemning the shooting as ‘barbaric,’ and offering his support to Mark Preston’s wife, Sara.

In other news, political activists have gathered to protest--”

One click, and the TV powers off. Two well-dressed lawyers glance at each other, each fidgeting with their clothes.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” the man whispers, seeming fearful of the walls.

“Lost a client, a valuable resource, and an expensive firearm all in one shot,” the woman murmurs. “Guess it could be worse.”

“Not really,” the man counters. “His hotel room was searched, and several documents taken. Documents with our names on them.”

The woman starts, then calms herself. “I’m sure the Slayer won’t be jumping on a plane to L.A. anytime soon,” she says with as much confidence as she can muster.

“Lilah, she’s a billionaire,” the man scoffed. “If she wanted to, she could probably just buy out our contracts and have us executed.”

“You worry too much. Besides, this Slayer is my project. You have Angel to worry about.”

“He’s hardly set up yet. I need more information before I move on him.”

“Lindsay…” Lilah shakes her head.

“What?”

“… Never mind.”

Lindsay stands, hastily adjusting his tie. “It’s almost time for the meeting. I’ve got some ideas for where to go from here if--”

“I’m sure we’ll be told exactly what to do,” Lilah snaps, cutting him off. “Last I checked, failure tends to mean bitch work for a while.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Right.” Lilah sighs as she rises to her feet. “Well, it was worth a shot. At the very least, the Slayer will know not to underestimate Wolfram & Hart.”

“Or you just focused her attention over here.”

“Maybe,” she nods, thinking. “Maybe, we can use that…”

Lindsay cocks and eyebrow as he follows Lilah out of the room. He walks a little closer as the young woman speaks, nodding as she brainstorms out loud. Slowly, plans begin to form.

~~~

Buffy pauses as she steps into Willow’s bedroom, noting the small whirlwind that must have attacked the room. No less than five pairs of panties on the floor, three bras, six tops of various designs, but only two pairs of shoes…

That settles it: She arrived precisely late enough to avoid helping. Perfect.

“All packed?” she asks, glancing at the tote on the bed.

“Yup,” the redhead nods. “Off to Cleaver-land, Ohio.”

“Will!” Buffy snaps, glaring at her friend, who waves her off.

“I know, I know.”

“You promised.”

“I know I did. I’ll behave. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” Willow pauses, giving Buffy a considering look. “Here’s hoping she doesn’t have any more snipers after her. I don’t think she can dress me up like bait.”

The blonde rolls her eyes in response. “I’m sure Cleveland is nice and quiet now.”

“Yup. Lots and lots of rolling heads where once laughing children roamed.”

“Will!”

“Sorry!”

“Right,” Buffy laughs. “I’m sure those laughing children in Cleaver-land accept your apology.”

Willow hip checks Buffy as she moves past her, ticking items off on her hands. “Okay, got my purse, Ziploc bags full of herbs and stuff, ID, wallet, change of clothes, a couple of books… What else do I need…? Ooh! Laptop!”

Buffy giggles in amusement as Willow does her level best to cram her computer into her already bulging carry-on. “Are you sure two days is long enough?”

“Absolutely! This will either work, or … well, I hope it works.” Willow grimaces. “It might not. It’s not like I’m the Mistress of Magic or anything.”

“It can’t really make it any worse, can it?”

“Not really. Just more painful.”

Buffy winces in sympathy. “Oh. Well, try to avoid that.”

“Will do. So, call you when I get there?”

“I’ll be waiting!”

Heavy footfalls announce Xander’s arrival. “Hey Buff!” he greets as he walks in. The girls each hug him in greeting, and Xander looks expectantly at Willow. “So, ready to go to Cleaver-land?”

Will snickers at him, while Buffy pins him with a deadly glare.

“What?”

~~~

“GIMME FUEL, GIMME FIRE GIMME THAT WHICH I DESIRE! NNGH!”

As Metallica blares loudly through the room, Vi struggles to lift the barbell, pressing it painfully upwards to clock her tenth rep. Her muscles ache beautifully – Faith certainly knows how to put together a workout plan. As she brackets the bar, she takes a moment to regard the tiny weights on each end: 130lb – the heaviest weight she’s ever trained with; a little over her body weight. It’s a serious accomplishment for her. But it seems so … pathetic in light of the woman across the room.

Vi knows she’s strong – for a girl. At least as strong as any athletic guy her age might be. Fast, accurate, keen senses … Potential Slayer traits. But Watching Faith pound out sets with a staggering 1240lb on the sagging bar highlighted to her the difference between the Potential and the Actual. Faith is literally ten times her strength. Does that also make her ten times faster, ten times more accurate, ten times more durable, her senses ten times keener?

Faith’s working the heavy bag, now – the really heavy bag; the one with the steel core secured with industrial-grade chain top and bottom to keep it from flying away. Her punches rattle off with the cadence of a machine gun, jerking the bag to and fro as though it weighed next to nothing. When she fires a kick at it, the chains strain taught, and the room quivers a bit.

It’s a wonder the building tenants don’t complain.

Wait.

Faith owns the building.

Never mind.

Vi stares unabashedly at her possible future: Sweating heavily in only shorts and a sports bra, her muscles standing out proud and defined, fibrous and vascular from the intense effort exerted; her eyes dancing with power and delight as she bobs and weaves around the bag, punishing it mercilessly while she sings to the heavy metal blaring from the wall speakers.

What an amazing future.

Slowly, reality sets in as Vi’s gaze slides to the bandage across Faith’s shoulder. The punches coming from that arm don’t rock the bag quite so much, and Faith grunts painfully in time with those punches. She remembers helping Faith change her bandage, and how ugly the wound was. She remembers hearing Faith sobbing uncontrollably in bed, probably over her friend, Mark.

Maybe not so amazing.

With a sigh, Vi returns to her sets. Soon enough, it will be her turn on that bag. Her hands already ache in fearful anticipation.

~~~

I hate hospitals. They reek of fear and death, barely concealed by the stench of bleach.

I hate them for the weakness they represent. I hate them because even as a Slayer, I can be made weak enough to end up in a hospital. I never thought I’d see the inside of one, but then again I’d never considered being stabbed then trying to commit suicide. As I walk down the hall towards Mark’s room, I’m painfully reminded that this place – a hospital – is the reward for every normal human that tries to help a Slayer.

When I walk through the doorway, the sight of Mark’s broken form breaks my heart and steals my breath.

This is my fault.

I will push it down. I will lock it away and try to be the best friend I know how to be. Sara deserves it. Mark, if he makes it, will need all the support he can get.

But this is my fault. I involved them in my life, and now they have to pay the price.

I see Sara in the room and quickly pull myself together. She’s already slumped in her seat, her face in her hands. Doesn’t need to be both of us.

“So, how was the night?”

Sara doesn’t even look up at me. “Okay, I guess,” she mutters through her hands. “Mark hasn’t woken up. He won’t. The doctors are keeping him under to minimize the pain and help healing.”

“Sounds good. I’ve made some calls. A friend’s comin’ up from Cali to try an’ fix him up some. Dunno what she can do, but I figure anythin’s better than nothin.’ You gonna be okay with that?”

Sara bites her lip and finally looks up at me, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. “Um, I guess. Can I speak to her, first?”

“’Course. Her name’s Willow Rosenberg. She’s a witch.”

That gets a reaction. “A – A witch? You mean like the one that had me possessed?”

“Oh, Sar,” I laugh. “Red’s way stronger than that dude. If she’d have been here, you’d have been free in minutes, tops. She’ll help Mark, for sure.”

Sara closes her eyes and nods. I sit down beside her and she instinctively curls into me. It suddenly strikes me how much smaller she is. A tiny little thing with surprising strength, both physically and mentally – she is a nurse, after all. Once again, I seem to have forged a friendship with a girl that reminds me strongly of Buffy. Wrong hair color of course – Sara’s hair and eyes are as dark as mine – but the comparison is a good one.

How many people would have snapped from the experience of being possessed? How many people would have run screaming from me once they knew what I was, what I did? Not Sara. She’s hurting right now, and she’ll likely hurt even more if Mark kicks it. But there’s still that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s ready for round two.

She’ll need that strength. There’s almost no chance of Mark coming out of this in one piece, unless Red has some wicked miracles bottled up.

Please. Please, please, please.                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

~~~

I feel a little sluggish as I walk through the airport. The hospital visit drained my energy, and I keenly miss my four-hour stint of training with Mark. My body’s just itching for action, and it resents this sedentary shit. I’ll give myself a few more rounds on the bag later. For now, though, I make my way to the arrivals, trying not to seem anxious.

Me and Willow. No Buffy to buffer. No Joyce to keep a lid on things. Yeah, this could suck.

Knock it off, Lehane. She’s here to help you. She could have said no.

The argument in my head dies off as I spot the girl lumbering down the steps, lugging a heavy-ass tote.

“Yo! Red!”

She sees me, tries to wave, and drags her ass over. She sighs in relief when I take her bag from her.

“Um, hi.”

“Hey yourself.” I reach down, and guide her hand into mine, shaking it. “Goes like this: ‘Welcome to Cleveland, Willow. I’m glad you could make it.’ Now you go…”

“Thanks, Faith. I’m happy to be here.” She smiles a bit, and we start walking.

“Got luggage?”

“Nope. I travel light. I have everything I need right here.”

“A’ight, then.”

A very uncomfortable silence falls around us as we exit the airport. It lasts all the way to my Mustang, where I stash Red’s bag in the trunk, pushing my weapons over a bit.

“So… This is awkward,” Willow mumbles.

“Doesn’t have to be.” I shrug. “I got a room for you, unless that’s too uncomfortable. Got lots o’ space at my place.”

Willow frowns for a sec. “That’s –” More frowning and lip nibbling “—that’s fine. I’ll stay with you.”

“B give you the ‘be nice’ speech?”

That gets me a smile. “Yeah, she did. You, too?”

“Ya huh. You know B: Always tellin’ us what to do. Likes to be in charge of shit.”

“Yup. That’s Buff.”

We leave the conversation on a high note, hiding behind the rock songs on the radio.

“This is it.” I walk Red from the underground parking to the elevator. “I’ve got a key for this. For you, the code’s 364785.” I punch the code in on the keypad before hitting the penthouse button. “Just in case you need to get up there and I can’t let you in. Same code for the door.”

“Isn’t that a security risk?”

“Not really. Anyone that wants in that bad could just climb the building and break a window.”

“Is there… a spell?” Red looks around, frowning.

“Yeah, same kind of stealth thing I use for me. Keeps demons out.”

“It’s … pretty good. You did this?” Willow’s looking at me with respect. Wow, I guess miracles do happen.

I nod and try to keep the shock off my face.

“Sorry,” she says, ducking her head. I really do have a shit poker face, don’t I? “I heard from Buffy that you could do some spells, but this,” she waves her hand, “this is more than I expected.”

“Glad you like it. C’mon, let’s introduce you to Vi.”

 I let Red punch the code in to unlock the door, and we step in. Vi’s in the workout room doing cardio. It’s a piss-poor replacement for training with Mark, but needs must and all that. Vi jumps off the treadmill and walks over when she sees us. Red shakes her hand politely.

“Hi. I’m Willow.”

“Vi. You’re the witch Faith said d’ be comin’ by?”

“Yup. And you’re a Potential Slayer. Must be fun.”

“Kinda is. ‘Least, Faith makes it fun. Lots t’eat, lotsa trainin.’ My Watcher, Dennis, he’s good, but there ain’t nothin’ like a Slayer to teach you how to fight.”

“Workin’ out is my afternoon plan,” I say as I walk past them. “Gonna change and get to it. Your room’s beside mine, down the hall here.”

Willow follows as I drop her bag in the room. “I’ll need a couple of hours to get things together for Mark.”

“That works. I’ll call Sara when you’re ready, and we’ll meet at the hospital.”

Willow nods, then disappears into her room. I turn and head into mine, stripping off my street clothes and wiggling into a sports bra and bike shorts.

“C’mon, Vi!” I shout. “Time to suffer!”

~~~

Willow glances around at her room. It’s … nice. Simple. Neutral colors, a bed, dresser, night stand, and a pretty nice closet. Ooh! An ensuite! Really? Wow! Faith certainly knows how to treat a guest. Nothing says hospitality than not having to share a washroom. The witch rolls her thoughts around as she carefully unpacks her clothing into the drawers, taking her toiletries to the bathroom. She expected much, much worse than this. This was almost Cordelia-like, and Faith was polite and considerate.

It feels weird, though. Almost alien. Where was the cleavage, the leather? That choker with the crucifix was classic Faith, and her straight, dark hair reminded Willow far too much of being held at knife-point in the mayor’s office last spring. But the rest – blue jeans, t-shirt, cheap sunglasses – they were so … normal. So un-Faith that it threw her for a loop. She almost thought she was in another world until Faith had popped her trunk and moved several knives, an axe and a claymore over to make room for Willow’s bag. That’s when the familiar frission of fear ran up Willow’s spine. That’s when she knew that appearances aside this was still Faith.

She pauses as a god-awful (Goddess!) racket starts up. The girls were training. Overcome by curiosity, Willow abandons the last of her neatly folded clothing and walks back over to the training room. She peeks in – and her eyeballs fall out. She’s sure of it. They’re rolling on the ground.

Cheered on by Vi, Faith is bench-pressing the most comically oversized set of barbells Willow’s ever seen. The weights are so big, so thick, that the setup looks more like the axle of some sort of armored personnel carrier.

“C’mon, Faith!” Vi shouts. “You can do it! Just five more!”

Faith grunts, pressing the bar up over her head again. Her face is red, her features screwed up in exertion.

“Four!”

Grunt.

Willow watches through “Three!” then “Two!” then “One!” Finally, on the last press, Faith eases the bar into its enormous bracket, and sits up, rolling her shoulders.

She’s beautiful. Lean, compact muscles glistening with sweat, large breasts captured in the coils of a sports bra showing that captivating cleavage. Long, powerful legs that go from cute toenails all the way up to the most amazing ass and – nope, skipping that! Go back to the toned arms and strong shoulders, which lead back to the breasts, which lead down to the ridiculously well-defined abs, which leads down to … there.

Willow closes her eyes, swallowing. This reaction is not what she expected. Seeing Faith mostly naked, sweating from a workout (with some physically impossible weight!) is not what she expected.

“Hey, Red. All set up?”

“Yes,” she croaks, snapping her eyes up to meet Faith’s. Those brown eyes, glinting with more than a little mischief. That long, dark hair… and she’s still wearing that choker! She…

Oh, God (Goddess!).

“I just wanted to see what you were up to,” Willow hedges. “I’ll probably grab a shower—” a cold shower “—and then get to mixing. I can use the kitchen for that…?”

“Sure.” Faith waves her off. “Make yourself at home. There’s a bathrobe in there, I think. Unless you wanna walk around in your underwear. We’re all girls here.” Then those dark lips curl into that solicitous smirk, and her eyebrows rise just so…

She knows. She’s a Slayer, dammit! She can smell you!

“Right!” Willow backs out of the room quickly. “I’ll see you later!”

Vi stares at the now empty doorway. “What’s up with her?”

“Learnin’ somethin’ new about herself,” Faith answers as she stands up. “Right. Help me balance this thing so I can get some squats done.”

~~~

By the time I finish my second workout, Red’s already busy mixing her concoction in the kitchen. She’s back to smiles and politeness, so I’m assuming she’s buried her little ‘episode.’

“I’m almost done,” she announces as I come up beside her. “This should – should – help Mark out. There’s a chance it won’t, but it’s the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“I’m sure it’ll work,” I offer, trying to sound hopeful.

“I hope so,” the witch says, focused on the vials in front of her. “It’s the first time I’ve augmented this, the first time I’ve used it actually. So naturally augmenting something you have no experience with … not exactly a walk in the park. I think I’m right. I know I’m right actually, but I don’t know if it’ll work in Mark’s case. The injuries are so extensive…”

I lay a hand on her shoulder, and she trails off. Damn, but the girl can talk.

“I trust you,” I say. “If it doesn’t work, it was never gonna, and we did the best we could.”

Red blows out a huge breath. “Yeah.” She caps off her vials and places them in a small rack. “Did you talk to Sara?”

“Yeah. Askin’ for Mark’s old hair kinda wigged her out, but she said she’d get somethin’ for us.”

“Good. That’s the last bit. We’re ready.”

A couple of phone calls later, and back to the hospital we go. Joy of fucking joys.

“I hate this.” Sar starts up before I even get in the room.

“What happened?”

“Jessica showed up,” Sara sighs, talking about her best friend, another nurse. “And of course, Rob and Kathy showed up with her.” Rob’s a doctor, Kathy’s a radiology tech. “There’s no lying to them about what happened, but they’re scared, they don’t know why – they can’t know why…” Sara trails off, mumbling to herself. “This is so messed up.”

“Yeah, I know.” I share a nod with Willow. “Keepin’ secrets sucks.”

“How do you do it?” Sara asks, keeping her eyes on Mark. “It makes you so… lonely.”

“’Cause I know that as much as tellin’ people takes the loneliness and stress off me, it puts it all on them.” I gently turn her to look at me. “Look at you, Sar: You’re a fuckin’ wreck. Now you know and understand my world a little bit, so it’s swallowed you up, and you’re different. So the big stress ain’t ‘vampires and demons exist,’ it’s ‘there’s nothin’ to see here, I’m perfectly normal.’ Get it?”

“Yeah.” Sara looks past me. “Is this your friend?”

“Yup. Sara, meet Willow. Willow, Sara.”

The girls exchange muted pleasantries, and Red sets up shop while I close the door. Once she’s ready, she sits us both down, grabbing a couple pages of notes.

“So, here’s the sitch: This isn’t Final Fantasy, and you can’t buy Cure Potions at the corner store. This is a transmogrify spell that normally turns people into animals. We’re tweaking it slightly so that we’re turning Mark into Mark – only a slightly younger Mark that doesn’t have a big, nasty bullet wound. Normally this kind of thing takes a lot of mojo. In this case, since we’re only making itty-bitty changes, it only takes itty-bitty mojo.”

“Sort of like Harry Potter?” Sara asks.

Willow claps her hands and smiles. “Right! Polyjuice Potion! Except we’re using hair from last week, give or take.”

I nod, following along. “I ain’t much of a witch, but I know enough to doubt miracles. What’s the catch?”

“Well, when it wears off, the body should revert to its basic form. But the body isn’t like a computer. It doesn’t just ‘save state’ and come straight back to it. It should ‘age’ him to his natural form. But since his natural form doesn’t include a huge hole through his gut, it should leave him in one piece.”

“Wow,” Sara says, impressed. “That actually makes sense.”

“Fuckin’ A, Red. If this works, you’re gettin’ a hair collection for Christmas.”

Red gives me an impish grin. “I’m Jewish.”

“Chanukah, then. Same shit.” Try as I might, my doubts keep coming back. “That’s still too clean, though. What else can happen?”

“Well, anything that could happen will happen when it wears off. It could only get rid of some of the injury. Or it won’t get rid of any, and Mark gets to relive the pain of being shot.”

We all wince at that thought. Sara recovers first.

“But it has a good chance of working?”

“I think so.”

“Well then we do it.” Sara sweeps her hand towards the bed. “Mark’s chances of surviving to see tomorrow are seventy-thirty; his chances of seeing next week are fifty-fifty.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “They won’t talk about next month, and I think you know what that means.”

“I’ll get to work,” Willow says quietly. “I’ll just inject this straight into his IV. Keep the nurses out for a bit, okay?”

~~~

Silent as death, the grand obsidian doors slide open. A large horned demon steps through, inspecting his surroundings. Such a pathetic place, this ‘Cleveland.’ He was promised an army when he arrived. What few vampires remained here were hardly an advance force. Damn the Slayer to Hell for arriving before he did.

It was enough, though. No Slayer would defeat him in combat, even with the paltry forces at his command.

“Come to me,” he demanded, his power washing over the city above him. “Serve me and know glory beyond your wildest dreams!”

His features twist into a satisfied smirk as he senses the vampires in the city responding to his call.

“Tonight, Slayer, you die.”

Confident and powerful, the demon lumbers out of the cavern. Behind him, the ‘XII’ on the doors fade slowly to black.

~~~

Finally free from the hospital, it’s my favorite time of the evening – patrol time. I’d always intended to take Vi with me, and Willow seems eager to come along. She’s the biggest damn thing on my radar, so she must have some killer spells prepped. Something tells me that the witch doesn’t see a lot of slaying in Sunnydale, and wants to cut loose just as much as I do.

Or maybe just intimidate me a bit.

She leans against a headstone and keeps watch as I teach Vi Slaying 101. Staring with weapons, naturally.

“Bow slayin’s the strongest option for you. Crossbows pack a stronger punch an’ you can shoot prone. But gettin’ more than one shot off is sometimes a problem.” I pull a bow out of my duffle bag and toss it over. “This is a collapsible compound bow. Mine’s set to a 100lb pull – strongest I could get at the shop. That’s stupid hard for you, an’ I still don’t feel it. You set yours where you can manage. Less than 50lbs won’t always stake a vamp, though, and you need higher for tougher demons. If you can’t cut 50lbs, stick to the crossbow for slayin’ until you can.

 “Ammo is simple,” I say as I hand her a handful of arrows. “Always wood shafts, for obvious reasons. Always bodkins for vamps, ‘cause all you care about’s penetration. You want the wood shaft to reach the heart. Trust me: 50lbs and up, it will.” Next I hand her a wider-tipped bunch. “Always broadhead for demons, ‘cause you’re lookin’ for max damage.”

“Cool,” Vi says as she gives the bow a test pull, and practices her aim.

“How come you didn’t use a bow in Sunnydale?” Willow asks from the side.

“Did near the end, but I was missin’ a key ingredient.” I rub my thumb and fingers together. “Money – lots of money. Your arrows dust with vamps, and you ain’t retrievin’ a broadhead from most demons. Also, wood arrows are thicker, harder to find, and cost a bit. Still, safety’s worth a few bucks.”

“Still, there’s got to be a better choice than a stake in most cases.” Willow gives a shudder. “Too close for comfort, especially for us non-Slayers.”

“Spear’s good. Just sharpen a shovel handle. You’ll look retarded walkin’ around with it, but if you’re using a stealth spell, no one’ll notice.” I tap an arrow shaft. “Same downside as arrows, though. If you don’t pull out wicked quick, you lose your spear.”

The three of us snicker at the sexual innuendo, and then we start scouring for a vamp to shoot. It’s time Vi cut her teeth. It takes about a half hour, but the cemetery finally gives up the goods.

“There he is,” I whisper. “Perfect shot – newbie gettin’ up. Get ready.”

I watch as Vi kneels and sets herself. She’s used a bow before, that much is obvious. Now’s the real thing, though.

“Breathe. Good form, good grip. Steady. Eyes on the prize. Push and pull…”

Newbie’s just about free of the grave. The best shot is right about now, when he’s got no legs.

“Don’t jerk – just let go.”

I hear her inhale deeply, and hold… and she lets fly. Less than a second later, the vamp stares down at the fletching in his chest as his body turns to ash.

“Sweet shit! Lookit you, ace! Dustin’ a vamp on your first shot!”

“Good job, Vi!” Willow pats the girl on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” she says, blushing a bit from the attention. I see that fire in her eyes, though – the rush of a successful slay. Yeah, the girl’s got it.

“A’ight, that’s it’s for here. No vibes – time to move on.”

“No.”

~~~

The voice is deep, resonating.

And it happens. Faith gasps as the feeling hits her. Willow’s hair rises as though electrically charged. Even Vi feels the wrongness that surrounds them.

From all directions, vampires swarm.

Vi kneels near the weapon bag and fires arrow after arrow, carefully aiming at the more distant targets. Everything closer belongs to Faith.

Sword and stake in hand, Faith rushes into melee like a woman possessed. She tears into the vamps with such speed Vi thinks of the Tasmanian devil.

As vampires rush to flank the Slayer, a tree bends and impales one through the heart, dusting it. Then another, and another, while Willow smiles victoriously.

Vampire after vampire rushes in to attack, but Faith seems joyful – giddy with glee as her blade carves through arms and necks. She howls with triumphs as her stake finds their blackened hearts.

“Your strength is not enough!” the voice bellows, and an enormous crimson demon with wide horns appears in a cascade of flames.

As Faith charges the minotaur-like fiend, she stumbles, turning to stare at Vi.

“Shit! VI! DEFEND RED!”

 Vi turns and readies herself, but her heart sinks. No less than twenty vampires, all armed, rush Willow from the back cemetery entrance. She takes aim and dusts one, then grabs a sword frantically, racing to the witch’s side.

Willow turns, sees the vampires.

Her eyes darken to almost black as she reaches out.

“Incendere!”

Flames surround the witch, then explode outward. With shrieks and howls the vampires light up like cheap fireworks, fizzling away into dust. Those that remain are too injured to defend themselves as Vi swings for their heads.

‘Defend Red,’ Faith? Really?

The furious roar of the demon draws Vi’s attention back to Faith.

Faith moves like lightning, faster than Vi can track. She leaps to avoid the demon’s strike, pivoting with one hand on the monster’s shoulder to land astride its neck, plowing her sword into its back. Her stake flies into the air, forgotten, as her hunting knife gleams in the street lights.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

In less than a heartbeat, emerald-hued blood gushes from more than a dozen wounds. The monster is incoherent with pain, his mouth forming soundless words, his face showing as much confusion as fear.

For it, everything has gone so horribly, horribly wrong.

Too late. It had arrived too late.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Lacerated shoulders prevent the beast from raising its arms fully. It flails, howling in pain, but the Slayer is firmly anchored and the knife continues to plunge home, coming away each time with a renewed spray of bright green ichor. Its strength failing, the behemoth drops to one knee, then all fours, then prone, its blood new flowing freely from mortal wounds. Wrenching her sword free, Faith swings once, twice, and the demon’s head falls away from its body.

“Fuck, yeah!” Faith howls. “That’s how it’s fuckin’ done!” She moves to offer Red a high five. To Vi’s surprise, the still dark-eyed witch slaps hands with Faith, matching the Slayer’s predatory grin with one of her own.

Less than five seconds later, they’re beside her, completely normal and in control save for the slight scorches on Willow’s clothes and the green blood on Faith.

“C’mon, Vi. Let’s motor and see if we can’t get cleaned up. Night’s young.”

Vi manages a nod, shaking from the adrenaline rush. This was – it was a fatal fight. Maybe not for Faith or Willow, but certainly for her. Both of them were … amazing. For the first time, Vi wonders if she truly belongs. Was it worth it, risking her life to fight alongside superheroes?

Faith smiles down at her. “You did good, kiddo. That was wicked shooting. I’m proud of you.”

A huge smile forms on her face. The aching in her arms is long forgotten. Hell yes, this was worth it.

~~~

 “So, the latest CT scan came back,” Sara says as we enter Mark’s room the next morning. I can already tell by the big smile on her face that we’re gone to hear good news.

“The doctor has called it a miracle. Officially, he’s listing it as ‘absurd luck’ that all the tissue and organs were close enough and in proper alignment to heal as completely as they have. Mark will need a colostomy bag for at least the next month or so, until they’re certain all the inflammation is down and his bowels are functioning properly.”

“Wow,” is all I can manage. That’s so much better than before, even if it’s permanent. Mark’s going to live.

“I know. There’s also still damage to the liver, but it’s improved, and they’re no longer worried about it failing. It’s not perfect, but it’s so, so much better than it was before.” Sara moves over to Willow and pulls the witch into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Red gets her arms awkwardly around Sara’s back. “I’m really happy that it worked.”

I feel Red stiffen up a bit as I pull her over to me, but I don’t care. Mark’s going to live. It’s a dream come true. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” I whisper to her.

“I-It’s… you’re welcome.” Red wheezes; I loosen up my hold a little bit. She smiles at me as she takes a breath.

“I owe you big,” I say, trying to keep from tearing up. “Anything I can do for you, you got it. Just name it.”

Willow gives me a big, genuine smile, with just a touch of naughty. “I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You do that.”

~~~

 “I like this place,” Red says, looking around my living room as I hand her a glass of wine. “It’s nice. Big, but cozy.”

“Thanks, Red. I’ve tried wicked hard to make it a home. It’s workin’ so far.”

We pause for a moment to sip our drinks, the fireplace giving some fake pops and crackles.

“Yeah. I think I’ll try something like this.”

“Make sure you buy the buildin.’ Landlords are annoyin’ little fucks.”

Willow nods, and takes another sip before putting her drink down. “So, Vi seems really happy.”

I have to agree. “She’s great.” I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how well we’ve gotten on.

“I know you’re only supposed to keep her for a few days, but—”

“Preachin’ to the choir, Red.” I hold up my hand. “Ain’t told her yet, but she can stay long as she wants. I’ll work somethin’ out with Dennis.”

~~~

From the doorway to her room, Vi tries desperately to hold in her tears, to contain her excitement.

She fails.

Willow laughs joyfully as the crying teen tackles Faith into a hug, the wine glasses long forgotten. The three spend their last night telling stories by the fireplace, all worldly concerns forgotten.

~~~

As I park my car at the airport, Willow hands me several sheets of paper. “Here. I made these for you.”

“Wicked.” I give the papers a glance – seriously dense scribbling everywhere. “What is it?”

“A step-by-step guide on how to make the potion.” Red’s all kinds of excited as she explains. “There isn’t a lot of power involved, and you shouldn’t have too much trouble with ingredients, Miss Money.”

I cock my head at her a bit. “Thought it took a lot of power to do this shit. Your friend’s still a rat, right?”

“Amy did that to herself, with a spell – no potion involved. That kind of mojo can’t be fixed like this…” Willow trails off, mumbling. “Although I’ll certainly try.”

“Here.” I interrupt her brainstorming with a nice, big book. “Got somethin’ for you, too.”

“What is … whoa.” Red backs away from the book so hard she hits the car door – kind of like I thought she would.

“Yeah. Feel that?”

“Uh huh. Major wiggins here. What’s in that book?”

“Some serious dark shit – blow someone’s intestines out their asshole, that kind of thing. Belonged to the Mayor. I can’t ever use this, but I thought maybe you’d be able to use it. Y’know, reference or whatever.” I give her a smile. “Let’s face it, Red – you have to actually use shit like this, the world’s endin.’ Period.”

“Yeah,” she nods, recovering and taking the book. “Thanks, Faith. I’ll go through it. Might have some good stuff in between the ick.”

“Also, this.” I hand her a bulging envelope. “That’s my stealth spell. Complete with the pouch.” I take Red’s hand in mine. “Teach it to B. Show her how to use it. Please.”

“I will. I promise.”

A weird moment of quiet passes before we break eye contact and she blushes cutely.

“Um… I had a good time, Faith. Thanks.”

“Glad to have you. Come back whenever, a’ight? Call me.”

“I – I just might do that.” She’s still looking down, and I’m debating whether or not to—

“Y’know what? Fuck it.”

“Wha—mmf!!”

I lean forward and kiss her firmly on the lips. Take that home with you, Red.

“There,” I say, moving back. “Now you can say you did it.”

She stares at me with the cutest little frown. “I … um…”

“Better than watchin’ you do the avoidance dance. You’ve been at it since yesterday.”

Willow struggles to find words, but then her brow unfurrows and she tilts her head, considering. Her tongue darts out and gives her lips a small lick.

“Hmm. Cherry. Not bad.”

“I aim to please.” I pop the trunk and open my door. “Now, let’s get you back to your wolf.”

As I see Willow off, I can’t help but smile – I think we’re actually friends, now.