Carefully but quickly, Buffy made her way toward the docks, staying in cover where she could and darting forward when there was none to be found. She had some idea of where she was heading; it hadn't been all that long since her last visit. Circumstances had been different then, but the similarities weren't lost on her.

She slowed to a walk after laying her eyes on the coast, and she slowly edged herself along the side of a large shipping container before peering around the corner. Quentin stood talking with the other watchers while three of their cronies patrolled the surrounding area. Behind them on the pier, two others were bringing down the ramp from a small ship. Faith stood by the edge of the water, guarded by the final one as she waited to to be taken on board.

The odds weren't in her favour, but Buffy knew she needed to strike fast if she was going to get to Faith in time. She pressed herself flat against the container and closed her eyes, listening intently as she waited for one of the guards to wander too close. Then she pounced, flinging herself around the corner. The element of surprise left him unable to react, and she knocked the knife from his hand before his eyes could register her presence. He threw a wild punch out toward her, and she caught his fist in her grip, twisting his arm around until he yelped before sweeping his legs out from under him. She brought the back of her foot down hard into his exposed stomach, and he shrunk into a foetal position, his hands wrapping defensively around his body.

Her entrance had caught the attention of the others, and she turned just as the next guard reached her. He thrust his knife at her face, but she easily dodged the attack, twisting to her side before bringing her knee up to knock it from his hand. She grabbed him by his jacket and threw him around, and he left the ground as he flew into the side of the shipping container. Bouncing off with a loud, metallic thud, he landed back on his feet only to stagger straight into her perfectly timed roundhouse kick. Her boot connected with his face, and he instantly dropped to the floor with a muted groan.

A crossbow bolt shot harmlessly past her side, embedding itself in the container. The man who had fired it was desperately tried to reload the weapon with his shaking hands. He managed to get the bolt in place just as she reached him, but he couldn't find the time to use it again before her elbow connected with his head. She stomped against the back of his knee, and he dropped down as his legs buckled. She pried the crossbow from his hand and swiped it across the side of his face to send him the rest of the way down.

She turned toward the group of watchers who were now without protection. The three she didn't know had already backed off, cowering some way behind Quentin.

“That's quite far enough,” Quentin said as Buffy faced off with him. She raised the loaded crossbow. “While your determination could be seen as admirable, it appears that once again you have reached an impasse.” He didn't so much as blink, his voice remaining calm even as the bow levelled toward his head.

Buffy knew exactly what he was getting it. Faith's guard was stood behind her, his hand coming around under her chin and his fingers pressing around her neck, forcing her head up. He held the gun in his free hand and aimed it in Buffy's direction as he mimicked cocking it before his arm returned to his side, a feral sneer on his face all the while.

“If you hurt her then what do you think I'm going to do to you?” Buffy asked Quentin.

“Are you willing to sacrifice her life to take mine?” Buffy watched him silently, fully aware that he already knew the answer. She could feel the rampant thudding of her heart. She took a deep breath before exhaling slowly as she tried to steady both her nerves and her arm. “No? I didn't think so. Then we have nothing more--”

In one quick motion her arm rotated around and her finger pressed against the crossbow trigger. The bolt was released from the weapon, and it flew through the air with an uncaring venom. The bolt skewered through skin, muscle and bone without discrimination before coming to a rest as the steel tip popped out the inside of the elbow of Faith's captor, covering the side of Faith's clothes with spatters of blood. An ear splitting scream left the man's throat, and the gun dropped from his hand, bouncing harmlessly off the floor and into the water.

Faith finished the job, thrusting her head back into his chin and sending him careening over the edge of the pier, his uninjured arm flailing wildly as he went. She watched him hit the water as her hand moved up to rub at the back of her head.

Buffy turned back to Quentin to find his smug look lost and his narrowed eyes displaying caution for the first time. A menacing smile slowly spread across her face. “Hold on,” he said as he took a timid step back. “You don't want to do anything rash here.”

Buffy took a single, slow, predatory step toward him, and it was enough to trigger him to turn and flee. She hesitated for just a beat before letting the empty crossbow fall to the ground as she bounded forward. With his back turned he had left himself exposed, and from behind she wrapped her arm tight around his throat to put a quick halt to his retreat.

Groggy men were making their way back to their feet around them, and Buffy spotted that the two men she'd seen dealing with the ramp had reappeared with weapons. She turned toward them, dragging Quentin's body around in the process. The two men raised their crossbows toward her, but Quentin was both broader and taller than her, and she knew he provided enough cover to keep her out of their firing line.

“Drop your weapons or I drop him,” she called out.

“She's bluffing,” Quentin countered. “Escort Fai--”

Buffy pressed tighter around Quentin's throat, and she could feel his carotid artery pulse against the inside of her arm. She spoke slowly, making him wait for air. “You are one word away from finding out just how far I am willing to go to protect my friends.”

She gave him time to consider her words before she eased up her grip. He breathed heavily as he tried to make up for lost air.

“Last chance,” she warned, and she pressed her arm back against his throat just enough to emphasise her point.

“Lay down your weapons,” Quentin managed, his voice unsteady.

At first the only movement came in the form of anxious looks being traded back and forth, but as soon as one made a move the others quickly followed suit, and one by one they discarded their weapons.

“Now get inside the boat,” Buffy commanded loudly. Quentin didn't have to repeat the order. Every one of them, watchers included, backed their way up the ramp, all the while keeping their eyes fixed on her. As they did so she pressed forward, pushing her prisoner along in front.

By the time she'd arrived at Faith's side there was nobody else left. It was just her, Faith and Quentin. Buffy shoved him forward hard, and he stumbled before falling on to his hands and knees. He stayed down for a moment before gingerly pushing himself back to his feet. He bent over to dust his trousers with his hands before he turned back to face them. He shot a quick look over to Faith before focusing on Buffy. “You've made a terrible mistake today.” His usual, unconcerned tone had been replaced by a hoarse growl. “You have gone too far this time, and trust me, this is far from over. I'll have her head before we--”

Buffy's hand shot out without warning. Her fingers and thumb clutched around his throat, and she squeezed until his words became nothing more than a stream of indecipherable rasps. Using both hands he tried unsuccessfully to peel her fingers from his neck, becoming more and more desperate when her hold remained firm. He raked feverishly at the back of her hand, and she squeezed tighter in response, digging her nails deep into his skin.

She dragged him down by his neck, forcing him onto his knees. His eyes looked up, locking on hers, and that's when she saw it. Not just the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes, but the thing that lay behind them. His assured composure had been stripped away, and she could see the fear and desperation that had taken up its place.

“B.” She heard Faith's voice, just as she felt the prickling across the skin of her arms, and just as she felt the warm blood that trickled its way underneath her fingernails. The sensations were all there, tapping away against her consciousness, but none of them could fully push their way through her haze.

“Buffy.” Faith's voice was louder, filled with more urgency. Buffy felt the hand rest over the top of her outstretched arm, and the fingers as they curled softly around it. She looked down, staring at the hand for a moment before looking over to Faith, frowning at the look of concern she found. Faith's unreadable eyes remained on her while the hand gently pushed down, and Buffy loosened her grip on Quentin's neck, letting her arm be eased down to her side.

Quentin bent forward, the flats of his hands landing on the ground as he propped himself up. He coughed and spluttered uncontrollably, trying to gasp in air at every opportunity. His head dipped farther as he gagged deeply. He continued to alternate between rough coughs and wheezy breaths while the collection of tiny, red rivers slunk their way down under his shirt.

Buffy's adrenaline began to seep away as she stared down at him, and as it went it was replaced by a light-headedness that blurred the edges of her vision. Her stomach clenched painfully, and the doughnut she'd eaten as a makeshift dinner barely stayed down. She felt the urge to turn around and run, and only the need to know that the council wouldn't try again kept her in place.

She waited until Quentin had his breathing back under control before squatting to level her face with his. “I've faced things a hell of a lot scarier than you'll ever be,” she said in a low, menacing voice. “If you send anyone – if you do anything – to try and get to Faith, then I swear: there won't be a place on this planet that you can hide where I won't find you. So why don't you get on your little boat and get the hell out of our town before I change my mind.”

His entire face had turned a harsh red, and his nose wrinkled sneers of disdain. His arms visibly shook as they pushed his body up. She rose with him, forcing herself to stay locked onto his damp, bloodshot eyes. Without another word he turned away and began making his way up the ramp toward the boat, and not once did he stop to look back.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, slowly running her hand up through her hair as she let it back out. “Are you OK?” she asked as she turned to Faith, her eyes zoning in on the bruise the girl had received back at the school. Up close she could see the full extent of the damage. It was a sore looking deep purple, and the blow had been enough to tear through the skin, leaving a small web of dried blood on the surface.

Faith nodded. “You?”

Buffy nodded back and forced a thin smile to her face.

“That hurt like a bitch though,” Faith half-heartedly complained. She moved her hand to the back of her head again, seemingly more concerned with the pain there than her bruise. She looked down into the water, and Buffy followed her gaze. Together they watched the forgotten council lackey, bloody face and all, splash around with one arm as he tried to make his way back to shore. “But hey, at least I'm not the one with the broken nose.”

Buffy continued to stare at the man, though her thoughts were not reserved for his nose. She could hear his shrill scream ring out in her mind, and she knew he'd be lucky if he could ever use his arm again. He had already hurt Faith once though, and she knew he could have done much worse if she hadn't have acted. Quentin though-

She was pulled back from her thoughts by the arm that draped around her shoulder. “Come on, let's get out of here,” Faith said.

Buffy was more than happy to get away from the scene, and she let Faith turn her around and begin to guide them away from the pier.

----------

The drive back seemed to take forever. Buffy couldn't decide if it had felt longer or shorter than on the way there, but she was adamant that there must have been a quicker route somewhere.

She was sat in the back next to Faith, leaving Giles alone in the front. The atmosphere was icy at best, and yet the air still managed to stay uncomfortably warm. None of them had uttered a single sound since getting in the car, and the steady, low hum of the motor was starting to make Buffy feel claustrophobic. Giles' eyes had remained fixed straight ahead at all times, and she suspected they'd die in a crash before he risked catching her eye in the rear view mirror. Faith seemed too uncomfortable to even move, likely able to feel the tension that filled out the small space. Her eyes occasionally glanced toward Buffy, but for the most part they switched between staring at the car floor and looking out the window at the passing buildings.

The side of Faith's jacket was dotted with dried blood, and Giles' eyes had widened when they first set upon it. He hadn't asked whose blood it was, or how it had gotten there. Buffy suspected he was too afraid to, and for that she was glad.

She could barely contain a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the approaching school building.

----------

Faith stopped at the bathroom to clean herself up, and Buffy and Giles continued alone to the library with the former purposefully lagging behind. Once they entered, Giles made a bee line straight for his office, and Buffy was left in the main area with the rest of the group.

Willow's eyes trailed from Buffy over to the entrance and back. “What happened?” she asked.

“They're gone.” Buffy said, and Willow's eyes widened. “Not with Faith,” she clarified.

“Well Wesley took off straight after you did,” Xander said. “Probably no surprise there though. I think it's safe to say you put the fear of Buffy into him.”

“Good. And if he knows what's good for him he'll stay gone.”

“Buff, he was with us the whole time. He couldn't have told the council about Faith.”

“Why are you defending him?” she shot at him.

“Whoa there, down girl,” he said, holding his hands up. “I'm not defending anyone.”

“Fine. Then let's just drop it.”

Xander shared a look with Willow before looking back to her. “Don't you think you're acting a little bit –” Buffy raised an eyebrow, and he stopped mid-sentence to let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you're scaring Willow,” he finished, patting his hand on Willow's shoulder.

“What?” Willow said, her voice pitching high. Her worried face glanced first at Xander and then at Buffy. “No you're not. U-unless you want me to be.” She paused as her brow furrowed. “Do you?”

Buffy looked between the two of them, and she realized she was still a bit highly strung. “I'm sorry. It's been a long day, and maybe Cordy was right.” She thought about that for a moment. “I can't believe I just said yet,” she added in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“You and me both,” Xander said, and Willow offered her a glum smile.

Buffy's eyes wandered over to Giles' office where they remained for a few moments. “I'll be back in a minute,” she said to no one in particular.

She slowly made her way over to the small room, and she knocked quietly on the wall by the open doorway before taking a step inside. “Hey,” she said lamely.

Sat at his desk, Giles' eyes stayed glued to the pages of the book in front of him. “No news yet I'm afraid.”

“Oh.” She stood in the entrance to the room, hovering nervously for a few moments before stepping fully inside. “Listen, about what I said back there.”

Giles removed his glasses and placed them down on the desk as he continued to stare down at the book.

“I didn't mean you,” she continued, shifting her focus to the glasses as she spoke. “I just – there wasn't enough time to go into it, and...” She wasn't sure what to say. She had been running purely on emotion – anger, worry, fear. She had known that she needed that fuel to do what had to be done, and she couldn't let him take it away from her. “I'm sorry.”

Giles stood up and turned to face her. “My concern was for you and not the council. You've seen first hand what taking a life can do to somebody, and that's not something I'd wish on anyone. You must know, Buffy, that whether it's the council or anyone else, you will always come first.”

“I know,” she said softly. “It's just Faith is trying to make things right, and they weren't going to give her a chance. They would have killed her Giles.”

“Perhaps.” His solemn look suggested he agreed to some degree. “But at least it's over now. And can I assume that you didn't hurt them?”

His voice didn't portray any obvious worry, but the same couldn't be said for his overly guarded look . “I wouldn't exactly say that, but yes, they'll live.”

A small smile flitted briefly on his face.

With Faith away, Buffy needed to know one more thing. “Be straight with me, Giles. Can we get Faith's powers back?”

“I honestly can't say for sure, but it's not a hopeless cause by any means. Magic can be reversed; spells can be broken. We've seen it happen countless times before. However it's late, and I think we can all agree that tensions are starting to run a little high. I would suggest the best course of action for now is to go home and get some rest, and we can reconvene first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, OK, you're probably right,” she admitted. They stood in silence for a few moments. “Good night.”

“Good night, Buffy.”

She returned to the main area. The others were still present, but there was still no Faith. “Let's call it a night, guys.”

That was all the persuasion it took, and after their tired sounds of agreement Buffy made her way out of the library. No sooner had she passed through the doors, Faith rounded the corner. “There you are,” Buffy said brightly.

“What's up?” Faith asked. She was down to her top and jeans, her blood-stained leather jacket nowhere in sight.

“We were all just about to head home. It's getting pretty late. You know, at least for those of us who don't spend all hours of the night in cemeteries.”

“Oh,” Faith mumbled before she perked up. “I mean yeah, sure. Makes sense.”

“We're not giving up,” Buffy assured her. “We'll carry on tomorrow. And the day after that. As long as it takes, I promise.”

Faith nodded. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow then.”

She started to turn, but Buffy quickly took hold of her wrist. “Wait. Why don't you come back to mine?”

Faith pulled her arm free, and it joined with her other one as they crossed in front of her body. “Great. You gonna babysit me 24-7 now, is that it?”

“I'm not trying to babysit you. I just don't want you to be alone.” Faith watched her cautiously, and Buffy carried on before she could start arguing. “I guess I don't really want to be alone right now either.”

Faith's arms dropped back to her sides, but she remained silent.

“I have lasagne,” Buffy added, trying to sweeten the pot, and she smiled encouragingly. She had a feeling that Faith would still have her appetite, especially considering neither of them had eaten a proper dinner.

Faith raised an eyebrow. “You can make lasagne?” she asked, clearly not convinced.

“And why is that such a surprise?”

“No offence, B, but you're a bit of a clutz.”

“Am not,” Buffy defended. She pouted her lips, but it didn't get her the retraction she was looking for. “OK, so technically this will be more of a reheating role. But that's almost as impressive, right?” Faith looked like she was trying to fight it, her eyes shifting down to the side, but her cautious guard gave way as the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “So are you in?”

“Just so we're straight: I'm not braiding your hair.”

“Deal. No hair braiding.” She paused before giving Faith an over the top look of excitement. “Ooh, but maybe we could paint each other's nails?”

Buffy grinned at the look of despair on Faith's face, and she promptly received a poke in her side for her teasing.

“Hey!” she complained, taking an instinctive step back as her hand moved up to protect her side. “Ticklish, OK. Not fair.” She smiled at Faith as she backed open the library doors. “Just wait here while I grab my stuff.”