The sun had been set less than an hour, leaving the centre of London, England dark but still sweltering beneath the same thick sheet of clammy heat that had persisted throughout the day. As Angel and Faith stepped in through the back door of a long-unused warehouse off of Hammersmith Park, they were greeted by an intensified, nauseating burst that had built up within the metal confines throughout the day. Faith put the back of her hand over her mouth as she struggled not to gag.

“God, I miss Boston.” She tried in vein to peel her plain, black tank top away from her skin — it hadn’t been that tight-fitting when she’d picked it out that morning, but now it clung straight back to her skin the moment she released it. She rolled her bare shoulders back as if that would somehow help matters. “Sunbathing just ain’t the same when you can’t breathe.”

Angel had stopped dead as the heat rolled over him. He looked at Faith’s clothing with a hint of envy; he hadn’t quite managed to leave home without grabbing his trademark coat, and the only thing it was doing for him now was concealing the thick layer of sweat that had soaked the white vest underneath. “I swear back in my human days the heat was never this bad. It was nothing but rain and snow for eleven months of the year.”

“Guess someone was right about that whole global warming thing then. That or this is the twelfth.” Faith ambled forward, lazily scanning the warehouse interior. Large, wooden palettes were thickly stacked all along one of the walls, and a handful of broken crates and metal poles were liberally scattered across the rest of the room. Rolls of half-used cellophane, plastic wrap, and bubble wrap were leant against one corner. It didn’t look like people had left in a hurry, only that nobody had bothered to clean up after themselves when they were done moving out. “Well, guess they’re not here. We can try again in Winter. Pub?”

She turned for the exit, only to find herself stopped by Angel’s hand on the top of her arm. “Faith,” he said seriously.

“I’m kidding. Chill.”

Angel withdrew his arm and pointed toward a metal door on the far side of the room. Faith nodded and reluctantly followed him in that direction.

“I’m not sure that’s entirely possible at the moment,” he said.

Faith glanced to her side. “Hey, you didn’t have to come dressed like Count Von Count. Would it have killed you to throw on some shorts and a t-shirt for a change?”

“I’d look pasty,” Angel reasoned.

Faith smirked and shook her head, but her smile slowly receded as she asked, “You think we’re really gonna find them here? This place is a few notches past unbearable. Besides, why would anybody who’d taken off with a bank-load of cash be staying anywhere but The Ritz?”

“My source seemed pretty certain this is where they’d be.”

“And you’re sure he ain’t yanking your chain?”

“He’s a good guy. They’ll be here.”

“Thought he was a demon,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

Angel glanced to his side, but Faith was looking straight ahead. “So he’s a good demon then. What difference does it make?”

Faith didn’t reply. She reached the door first and had to rotate up a long, metal bar that was keeping it firmly locked. “Looks like they never made it out this far then.”

The next room was larger and also a lot cooler, almost to the point of being comfortable. That was thanks to the two huge, whirling fans hanging from the tall ceiling. The crates inside were still in one piece, with some stacked two to three units tall such that they created a miniature maze of corridors and blocked the view of the room as a whole. Faith eased a hand under the lid of one that stood alone and quietly pried it open. Inside was a mountain of small, polystyrene cylinders, and she didn’t fancy blindly fishing around to see if they were packaging anything of interest. She carefully dropped the lid, shrugged at Angel and kept walking, treading more lightly now.

It wasn’t long before they simultaneously came to a stop and looked up, their attention drawn by a low squeak that was nearly drowned out by the ambience from the overhead fans. High up on the wall to their right, one of the many short, long windows was being pressed open inch by inch, and it made the same noise of complaint they’d heard each time it moved. They couldn’t tell who the fingers belonged to, and Faith quickly pushed Angel back around the corner.  She tucked herself in tight, and the two of them remained crouched and quiet as they waited.

One minute and half a dozen squeaks later, they heard the unmistakable sound of feet landing on the floor. Faith turned to Angel and motioned with her fingers. Three. Angel nodded. Two. They both turned to face the corner, leaning slightly forward as they prepared to spring themselves around it. One.

Her third finger curled in at the exact moment someone beat them to it, bursting around the corner and raising their short, pointed weapon into the air. Faith’s body reacted a split-second slower than her brain, and she paused at an awkward moment as she’d started to rise, almost toppling over as a result. “B?” she blurted out once she’d successfully regained her balance and saved her dignity.

Buffy stood frozen, her stake still primed for attack, her brow furrowed. “Faith?” Her eyes wandered over Faith’s shoulder, and the confusion spread to the rest of her face. “Angel? What are…” she shook her head and turned around, finally lowering her arm as she stepped back around the corner. “Oh God,” she muttered to herself.

Faith and Angel shared questioning looks before standing straight and following her around. Buffy continued a short way before turning to face them. She crossed her arms but didn’t say anything. Faith wasn’t entirely sure what to say either, but Angel stepped forward and smiled anxiously. “I didn’t… what are you doing here?”

Buffy took a deep breath. Her surprise had faded, leaving behind an expressionless face that didn’t feel at all welcoming. “I’m looking for someone. A Slayer. Rumour has it she and her friends stay here sometimes.”

Angel looked over her shoulder, searching the room behind her, but more crates, a few metal poles tied together and resting against one corner, and some other assorted junk were the only things in sight. “Alone?”

Buffy’s response was slow to come, and the muscles in her biceps tensed up before it did. “Yeah, well it turns out I’m a little low on backup these days.” Her tone was cold, her shoulders still squared for a fight. “But you probably know all about that.”

Nobody could have missed the implicit accusation, but Angel acted like it wasn’t there. “You should have called. We could have looked into it for you.”

Buffy briefly looked to one side as a smirk tugged at her lips. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you are the last person I want anywhere near these girls. I’m here to talk to them. Nothing else.”

“So are we,” Angel quickly countered, hostility beginning to creep into his words now as well. He took a step forward.

Buffy matched it, inch for inch, her eyes hardening. “Really? What, you’ve already killed your quota for the week?”

Realising that things were quickly heading south, Faith hurried forward to break things up, but she was simultaneously shoved to the side by them both.

“Do you really want to do this?” Angel demanded, almost shouting now.

Buffy crossed her arms and shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be, and I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re going to try and justify the things you did.”

“That wasn’t me,” he said through grit teeth, “but you already know that.”

“I do? Why? Because you were roleplaying as Hulk Hogan?” The sarcasm oozing out from Buffy’s throat made Faith feel uneasy. “That’s not an excuse, Angel. Not even close.”

Faith stood on the sidelines, rubbing at her temple, wondering exactly how stupid she’d have to be to really force her way between them.

“OK, well first of all, Hulk Hogan never wore a mask.” There was a bluntness to Angel’s words that should have warned Buffy it was probably time to back off. “And secondly, I was trying to do the right thing.”

Buffy let out a cold, incredulous laugh. “The right thing? Tell me, at what point did massacring a bunch of innocent girls seem like the right thing to do? God, were you born a monster, or is that something you picked up working for Wolfram and Hart?”

Angel tensed up at that last part, and Faith was sure there had been a flicker of yellow deep within his eyes. “You know what? Forget it,” he growled. “You want to go it alone? Be my guest. Come on, Faith. We’re done here.”

“Angel, wait,” Faith said, sighing heavily.

“No, I’m with him on this one,” Buffy said. “Keep going. Both of you.”

Faith looked back and forth between the two of them. “OK, so when did I become the level-headed one around here? We all want the same thing, so let’s just put whatever this is aside for five minutes and get this done.”

“Well of course that’s easy for you to say, isn’t it, Faith?” Buffy said, instantly turning her aggression Faith’s way. “I mean it’s not like you’re the one who’s been lied to by the people she thought she could trust. I’d sooner let a demon watch my back than you.”

Faith flinched at the accusation, and she instinctively took a shot back. “You’re one to talk, Blondie.”

“Excuse me?” Buffy asked angrily, looking like she’d just been slapped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Buffy’s look of genuine disbelief only spurred Faith on. “You heard me. When things got rough, how long did you wait before tossing me down the river? Is that your idea of trust, cause I’ve gotta be honest with you: I’m not feeling the love.”

Buffy’s eyes hardened and she stormed right up to Faith, jabbing a finger in her face. “Oh no, you are not going to turn this around on me. Whatever mistakes I might have made are nothing compared to what you put me through.”

Realising that she was only making the situation worse, Faith bit down on her tongue to keep herself quiet and held up her hands in surrender, but that only gave Angel an opportunity to jump back in to the fray.

“It’s always the same with you, isn’t it?” he accused. “When are you going to take responsibility for your part in anything that goes wrong? I’m sure it must be hard for you, looking down at us from high up on your pedestal. The great Buffy Summers, saviour of the world, adored by everyone.”

Buffy turned on him, her eyes seething. “How dare you? I’ve lost everything because of you.” Her voice began to shake, her anger wavering even as she tried to drag it onward. “Giles is gone. Willow blames me for losing her magic. Kennedy blames me for losing Willow. Every active Slayer left alive has walked away from me.” She let out a low, bitter laugh. “God, even Satsu won’t return my calls. I have nothing left, and all I ever tried to do was keep everyone safe.” The tirade made quick work of her own resolve, eating away all of her anger until she was left trying to blink back tears. Her shoulders sagged, and the half-hearted balling of her fists came far too late to help.

Angel’s features softened, his gaze dropping, and Faith looked away, finding something of interest on a bare, concrete wall.

“I… I had no idea,” Angel said softly. He glanced up, but Buffy had followed their lead and was busy staring a hole through the floor.

She sniffed and gave a tiny shrug. “Makes sense I guess,” she said quietly. “I slept with the enemy. Destroyed the seed. Ended the Slayer bloodline.” She looked up again. There was only the smallest sparkle of resolve in her tired eyes, but her voice firmed. “I know I haven’t gotten everything right, but do you know what the worst decision I’ve ever made is? Worse than everything that happened last year, worse than anything you did…” She paused and took a deep breath, and a single tear leaked from the corner of one eye. “I was the one who—“

“Talked far too much.” The new voice drew everyone’s attention. Stood on top of a crate off to one side was a girl with lagoon blue, chin-length strands of hair clumped into large, messy spikes. “Oh, sorry. I’m not interrupting, am I?” she added with a smile.

“Great,” Buffy muttered miserably, loud enough for only Angel and Faith to make out. “See what you’ve gone and done now?”

With a loaded crossbow in one hand, and a stake sticking up out the front of her pants, the blue-haired girl jumped off the crate to the floor and took a few steps their way. Remaining on the crates behind her stood a row of Slayers — four more in total, each of them also fully armed. “We don’t get a lot of visitors here. I guess these days people know better than to go snooping around secluded buildings. Or your smarter ones do.”

“You’re Casey, right?” Buffy asked, trying to push back her bubbling mess of emotions and sound as friendly as she could under the circumstances. “Casey Logan? I’ve been looking for you.”

Casey threw her hands high into the air. “Congratulations! You found me.” She tilted her head as she looked at Buffy, Angel, and then Buffy again. Her small grin blew up across her face. “Will you look at that, girls,” she called behind her. “If it isn’t the renowned Buffy Summers and her boy-toy Twilight.” Immediately there was some murmuring and exchanging of glances from behind her.

“Really, it’s just Angel these days,” Angel countered. “Too many unwanted connotations.”

“And he is so not my boy-toy,” Buffy added, her forehead wrinkling in disapproval.

“You two are real funny,” Casey said, pointing a finger at one then the other before homing in on Buffy. “I like that. Hey, I can be funny too. Do you want to hear one of my jokes?”

Buffy watched silently, trying to weigh up the situation. She wasn’t looking for violence, though she hadn’t discounted the possibility of it either. The first time she’d heard the name Casey Logan had been over six months ago when somebody was targeting the more neutral demonic population. With everything that had been going on, there hadn’t been an awful lot of time to fly out to England to discuss slaying priorities. Recently she’d run across a description that pretty clearly fit the same girl, only this time three people at a London bank had been left for dead. In other words, she hadn’t been expecting a red-carpet welcome with a peace treaty signed by lunch.

Casey took a step forward, holding a menacing look in her eyes. “So let me get this straight: the three of you break into my place, saying you’re here to talk — that you don’t want any trouble. But how’s a girl supposed to believe any of that when you won’t even hear my joke?”

“I’m listening,” Buffy said, her tone flattening in response to the slither of malice in Casey’s. She pulled her eyes away from the crossbow to meet Casey’s, whose dark brown pupils looked out of place beneath her brightly coloured hair. Slowly and discretely, Buffy let one hand begin to roam around to her back, wanting to be ready to pull out her stake if she found herself needing a weapon.

“OK, good,” Casey said brightly, as if there was no longer any tension between them. “It’s pretty straight forward, but I think there’s a certain…. authenticity about it. So here goes.” She took a huge breath and then blew it out, shrugging her shoulders and arms a couple of times. She seemed too busy with her own dramatics to notice Buffy’s careful, concealed movements. “What did one vampire slayer—“ She poked a finger in Buffy’s direction before rotating it around to herself. “—Say to the other?”

While her fingers began to curl around her stake, Buffy opened her mouth to ask, ‘What?’, but instead she cried out in a mixture of shock and blinding pain as a crossbow bolt skewered her side. She immediately dropped to one knee, her widened eyes locked on the ground in front of her and her mouth gaping open as waves of pain pushed out until they’d stung every nerve ending in reach. Her fingers hovered close to the four inches of metal still protruding from her side. It felt like it was burning a hole from one side of her body straight through to the other simply by being there, but still she couldn’t bring herself to take hold of it.

The second the bolt had left the bow, Angel had vamped out, but there were four more crossbows trained on him in an instant. He looked from Buffy to Casey before his lips curled back to bare the full length of his fangs.

Casey didn’t seem worried by his silent threat. “Damn, that’s right. You guessed it in one.” She held an arm out in Buffy’s direction as she eyed Angel. “Come on, be honest; she’s heard that one before, hasn’t she?”

Faith had fought hard against her instincts and managed to keep her feet rooted in place. She stayed quiet, forced her fists to unclench, and was careful to keep her face neutral.

Buffy’s breathing was raspy, but as the shock faded, it at least began to return to a healthier rate as she glared up at Casey. “You know what? I really did come here to talk to you. But if I’d realised you were utterly out of your mind, I’d have saved myself the airfare.”

“Hah. Again with the funny.” She stepped up to Buffy, putting one hand under her chin and offering her a mock pout. “If I wasn’t going to kill you in about thirty seconds, I think we could have been real close friends. Don’t you?”

“Bite me,” Buffy snarled. There was fire in her eyes, and her head barely budged as Casey’s knuckles smacked against her cheek.

“I guess the question now is: which of you goes first?” Casey looked from Buffy to Angel before seemingly noticing Faith for the first time. She patronisingly patted Buffy on the same cheek — which was already turning a dark shade of red — before slowly heading over to Faith and looking her up and down. “You’re awfully quiet there. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“The name’s Faith.”

“Faith,” Casey repeated to herself. Her fingers played at the opening of Faith’s leather jacket. “That’s a pretty nice jacket, Faith. How much would one of those set me back?” Faith tried to answer but was instantly cut off. “Wait, why does that name sound so familiar? Hold on… no way. Aren’t you the chick that tried to kill her a bunch of times?”

“What can I say?” Faith asked evenly. “She had it coming.”

Casey eyed her curiously. “And when that didn’t work you joined forces instead? Aaw, that’s kind of sweet, don’t you think?”

Faith’s nose wrinkled. Her lips twisted in revulsion. “Hardly. I came here looking for you. Ran into these two assholes instead.”

“Yeah?” Casey looked unsure of herself, and she paced a few feet each way while the tip of her tongue waggled back and forth behind her lips. “Would you be offended if I told you that sounds awfully convenient to me?”

Faith shrugged absently, and her voice portrayed her indifference. “Ask around. Plenty of Slayers around these parts know me well enough to know I fly solo.“

“So you were just… passing through then?”

“Found a vamp nest about a half hour north from here; St. Mary’s cemetery. Too many of them for any one Slayer though, and word was you might be interested.”

Casey took her time to digest that before asking, “Have they been breaking the rules?”

“Who cares?” Faith scoffed. “A vamp’s a vamp. I see fangs, I start slaying. Simple as that.”

Casey clapped her hands together. “Yes! That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Aren’t you sick to death of being told what you can and can’t kill by a bunch of tightwads who’d wet themselves if they ever actually met a real vampire?“ She waggled a finger between herself and Faith. “We both know they’re all as bad as each other. They all deserve to die.”

“Does that logic extend to people as well?” Buffy asked, still crouched on the ground. The skin on her face was warm in colour, and beads of sweat were dripping from her crown. Her shoulders rose and sagged in time with each laboured breath.

Fangs withdrawn, Angel anxiously glanced between Buffy and Faith as Casey strolled past him. A beckoned Faith trailed behind her.

“If we’re going to work together, I want you to feel like part of the family,” Casey said. “And that’s what we are here, Faith. We look out for each other. But every now and then there’s a bad seed — pardon the pun. So anyway, I’m going to let you do what every girl here would gladly give their left arm for.” She sneered down at Buffy. “To put down this traitorous, sorry excuse for a Slayer.”

Faith didn’t even blink; she only held out her hand. “Mind if I borrow that then? It’ll make this go a hell of a lot faster.”

Casey looked first at her crossbow and then at Faith before hiding the crossbow behind her back. “I’m in no hurry, and she’s already got a big hunk of metal sticking out of her. Give it a twist.”

There was only the slightest of hesitations before Faith took several steps forward until she was towering directly over Buffy. A pair of green, concerned eyes slowly looked up at her, and Faith swallowed hard. She wanted to tear her eyes away from Buffy’s, to make things easier, but they were trapped in place, held firm by Buffy’s pained, worried expression.

“What are you waiting for, Faith?” Casey asked impatiently from over her shoulder. “Don’t disappoint me now.”

Faith held her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly nodded.

“Faith, please,” Buffy begged, violently shaking her head. Her plain, cream-coloured top had already been stained by the messy, dark circle that sagged around the long, protruding piece of metal embedded through her flesh, and the stain was gradually creeping downward with each passing second. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, B,” Faith whispered. Leaving no time for those words to properly sink in, her hand shot forward and took a firm hold around the bolt. As Buffy’s hands moved much too late to try and stop her, she wrenched it all the way out with a single, harsh tug.

A piercing cry fought its way out through Buffy’s grit teeth as she doubled over. Her hand pressed futilely over the gaping wound and her head dipped, coming into contact with the cool, concrete floor. Her breathing immediately spiked, sounding as loud as it did feral.

It didn’t manage to mask a pair of, soft, strained sobs though, and as they reached Faith’s ears she had to close her eyes tight to concentrate on not throwing up. Her fingertips turned stark white as they pressed violently into her own palm.

“Ooh, nice,” Casey commented with genuine enthusiasm, stepping in line with Faith and patting her on the shoulder. “I think I like you already.”

Faith’s eye cracked open, and if Casey had been in the right place to see their fiery, penetrating glare then she’d have been quick to back off. She wasn’t though, and the first glimpse she caught of Faith’s anger was when Faith spun and kicked the crossbow right out of her hand. Before Casey had even registered what was going on, she had the tip of a blood-covered bolt pressed flush against her jugular.

“Yeah? And what do you think now?” Faith growled into her ear, and she pinched the back of Casey’s neck hard between the thumb and forefinger of her free hand for good measure.

Casey’s spine bucked forward and her shoulders tightened, but she couldn’t squirm free from Faith’s tight grip without risking losing an awful lot of blood. It took a few seconds for her to regain her calm, but then she casually called out, “She won’t do it; good girls don’t know how to bite. Dust the vamp and finish off the other one.”

Angel turned to face one of the Slayers as they raised their crossbow his way. His knees bent, ready to spring into action, but Buffy was in no shape to defend herself; her eyes were dim and unfocused, and she was struggling to keep them open.

Before anything more could happen, Faith tightened her grip on Casey’s neck, her fingernails coming punishingly close to breaking through skin. “If you knew me, you’d never even think that,” she said loudly, redrawing everybody’s attention. “Just give me one reason. That’s all I need.”

“Shoot her!” Casey barked, her nose, cheeks and forehead all flinching in obvious discomfort.

“Careful,” Faith warned, staring out the only girl who did raise her weapon their way. “You shoot me, my arm spasms, and this ends up so far through her throat that Casey here is gonna have herself a nice new tongue piercing.” Casey looked unsure, as did everyone else in the room bar Faith, who simply glanced to her side. “Angel, let’s get gone already!” she prodded.

Angel sprang to life, paying no attention to any of the other Slayers as he ran to Buffy and carefully lifted her to her feet. She was hyperventilating. Her teeth were pressed tightly together and her body was constantly shivering despite the heat. “Come on, I’ve got you,” he told her quietly. He shrugged off his jacket, folded it up, and pulled away her red-stained hand long enough to press the jacket in place. He waited until her hand held it down tight, and then she groaned in pain as he ducked under her shoulder and started urging her toward the exit. “You’ll be OK,” he reassured her again and again, but the creases on his forehead looked far less certain. “Just hang on. It’s going to be OK.”

With them both hunched over, and Angel trying to avoid inflicting any additional pain, it seemed to take the pair forever to get across the room. Once they’d finally made it, Angel twisted his neck back. “Faith?”

“Go,” Faith ordered. “I’m right behind you.” Her eyes ran across the other girls as she slowly stepped backward, careful to keep Casey as much in the firing line as possible.

“You’re backing the wrong club, Faithy,” Casey warned. “Siding with those two makes you as good as dead.”

“Trust me, I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Way I see it, that pretty much makes me an expert on the subject. And this? This ain’t one of them.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I count three of you — actually, looking more like two-point-five now. And how many Slayers are left in London alone? Twenty? Thirty? Think you can take us all?”

“I guess it’s lucky we only have to worry about the crazy ones.”

As they neared the door, the two closest Slayers jumped off their respective crates to keep eyes on them, and the pair inched forward side by side, cautiously but still fast enough to gain a little ground.

“Well watch your back, baby, because craziness can be infectious. If I let you live long enough, you might even find that out the fun way.”

“Looking forward to it,” Faith muttered. The moment they were through the doorway, she shoved Casey forward and then planted the base of her boot into Casey’s butt, sending her stumbling further forward and straight into the two approaching Slayers. Neither one of them had been expecting it, and instead of managing to hold her up, the three of them went down in a muddle. That gave Faith plenty of time to slam the metal door shut and pull down the lever over the latch, securing it back in place.

Seconds later, the door started to bulge outward, and the clanging made from boots meeting steel reverberated throughout the entire building. Faith didn’t stick around to see how long it managed to hold out for, but she, Buffy and Angel were long gone before Casey and her friends made it out into the empty car park.