The Girl from Away

“Faith,” Buffy whispers at length, once her legs are beginning to fall asleep, “let’s go to bed.”

Faith nods, her body exhausted but happy. She slides down unsteadily, holding out a hand to help Buffy down after her.

Buffy presses against her side, arm around Faith’s waist. Together they walk upstairs.

Chapter 13

Box of coffee tucked under one arm, Faith pushes through the door to the Espresso Pump, holding it with her foot for Marcie. Maple Court bustles with weekend morning activity, and they weave their way through the crowd, headed for the Magic Box. Their job is to provide the coffee and sugar needed for this morning’s meeting. The others are picking Tara up from the hospital on their way over.

“Convenient how being invisible means you can’t carry anything,” Faith points out, as she juggles the bag of bagels and spreads, moving the coffee from under her arm as her skin begins to feel too warm for comfort.

Marcie chuckles, her unseen shoulder knocking into a passerby with some force.

The man turns back, glaring at Faith. “Watch it!” He says.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Faith starts across the street. At her elbow, Marcie suddenly sucks in a long breath. The invisible hand takes Faith’s arm, squeezing her to a halt. “What?” Faith asks.

“Two o’clock,” Marcie hisses back.

Faith glances and immediately sees what Marcie’s talking about. In front of Al’s Pottery lounges a white gown clad Amy, long dark hair shining in the bright morning sun. She’s watching them, a wide smile on her red lips.

Faith’s eyes narrow as she starts toward the witch in a threatening stomp.  Marcie doesn’t say anything, just falling in line with her. As they approach, Amy holds up a finger and wags it at them.

“Uh-uh,” she chastises, a flirtatious look on her face. Her other hand disappears into one of the long folds in her gown.

Faith and Marcie stop, eyes drawn to the hand now pulling back a panel of fabric.

“What is she…?” Faith begins to say, watching as the light underneath seems to swirl.

“Back up,” Marcie barks, tugging on Faith’s arm. The coffee goes sloshing free, breaking open on the ground.

Amy giggles, dropping her other hand to part her skirts further.

Faith and Marcie take another step back, just as the light underneath starts to bubble free. At first it’s kind of pretty, as fuzzy little balls begin to float free. People crossing the street stop ahead of them, looking interested. A little boy squeals in happiness, darting ahead of his parents to hold his hand out toward the little bit of fluff.

“Kid, get away from that!” Faith says, shaking Marcie’s hold and taking a step forward again.

The ball bounces lightly into his palm, coming to a stop. Laughing, the little boy turns toward the crowd, proudly holding it up to show his parents. Then it all goes wrong.

His face freezes, momentarily shocked. Then it relaxes and he drops to the ground, unmoving. His parents begin to shout, dropping down beside their son. The screams stop as the little tufts land on them, and they fall into heaps beside him.

“Shit,” Faith says, unsure what the hell those things are doing.

“Run!” Marcie shouts to the uneasy crowd. The little balls tumble free from Amy’s clothing faster now, rolling and flipping through the air, falling on those in the street.

Faith turns tail and runs, smashing into Marcie unknowingly on the way. The bagels lay smushed and stomped in the street behind them. Marcie grabs her hand, and the pair run down the free side of the street as quickly as they can. Behind them, chaos is developing on Maple Court. People run, tripping over their fallen friends and family as they try to escape the white things. They’re so thick now that it’s like being inside a cloud. The screams ebb and wane, as new people leave the shops and some drop to the ground, silent.

Over it all, Amy’s tinkling laughter reigns.

XXXXX

“Christ on a cracker,” Marcie pants, as they jog through the Sunnydale sewer system. “This is disgusting.”

“It beats the evil Popples,” Faith answers, unmindful of the sloshing sewer water coating her pants.

“What the hell were those things?” Marcie asks disdainfully. She’s been following Faith blindly since they dropped into sewer grate a few blocks from Maple. If Faith doesn’t get them to the Magic Box soon, she’s going to drown her in the scummy water currently snaking around her knees.

“Hell if I know,” Faith answers, taking a sudden left turn that Marcie scrambles to follow. “I just hope they got Tara inside before this started.”

Marcie’s foot slips on the scummy concrete below them, and she manages to grab Faith’s arm, keeping herself upright.  “Remind me to thank Amy for the beautiful vacation.”

“Manners are so important,” Faith agrees, coming to a stop under a rickety ladder. “This should be it.” She jumps up, grabbing hold of the ladder and quickly making her way to the top.

“Should be?” Marcie asks, squinting up at Faith’s ass, “Or is? Because if I open this and get covered in unicorn farts or whatever the fu—Faith!”

Faith’s thrown open the manhole, letting bright sunlight filter down into the sewer. Grinning back down, she says, “Fart free, promise.” She extends her hand down toward Marcie.

Swallowing a growl of annoyance, Marcie grabs her palm and allows herself to be yanked onto the ladder. Faith shimmies out ahead of her, stepping aside for Marcie to haul herself out.

The pair of them stand dripping sludge and squinting in the back alley behind the Magic Box. “Uh,” Faith says, pointing upward, “we better move.”

The tiny fuzz things are just beginning to bounce over the roofs of the shops, the wind pushing their slight weight up and over the structures. The two women make a beeline for the back door of the Magic Box, dismayed to find it locked. Faith hammers it with the heel of her hand. “Hey!”

The creatures bump and whirl, slowly easing into the top of the alley.

“Need a little help out here!” Faith shouts, as she and Marcie press their bodies flat against the wall, pounding on the door with the palms of their hands.

Closer and closer the little balls tumble. The first of them ghost along the ground. Faith looks up, seeing a few dribbling over the roof above their heads. One flips and curls lazily toward them. Faith stares straight up at it, her keen eyesight taking in each tiny detail with increasing alarm. Up close, she can see it’s an insect of some sort. It’s got a clear exoskeleton and short little legs. It also has a long thin stinger protruding from its abdomen. Faith’s willing to bet that’s an Amy special addition.

Before the bug can land on her upturned face, the door is yanked open. Faith falls backward into strong arms, managing to stop Marcie from meeting the floor ass first as well. After getting them upright, Buffy quickly slams the door shut, yanking the bolt over. She turns, hands quickly finding Faith’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” She asks, looking her up and down.

“I’m okay,” Faith confirms. “We took a shortcut.” She gestures toward her wet jeans.

“Marcie?” Buffy asks, looking blindly to Faith’s left.

“I’m okay,” Marcie confirms. There’s a rustling sound as she begins to shuck her wet clothing.

Buffy’s brows draw together in alarm.

“What?” Marcie asks, “It’s not like you can see me.”

“Still,” Buffy says, giving wide birth to the disrobing Marcie. “Let me find you guys some clothes.”

Leaving Marcie in the back room, Faith follows Buffy down to the basement at a jog. When they reach the bottom, Faith seizes Buffy’s arm, pulling her back into an embrace. Against Buffy’s soft hair, she says, “I didn’t know if you guys made it back here, or—”

“We did,” Buffy confirms needlessly. “Everybody’s all okay.” She cups Faith’s face, kissing her gently. “This is a wrinkle in the plan, but we can do this. We’re gonna get her.”

Faith shakes her head, looking at Buffy intently. “When you tell me it’s gonna be okay, I actually believe you.” She says quietly. “How do you do that?”

Buffy presses her forehead to Faith’s. “Must be a slayer thing,” she says, trying to believe her own words as easily as Faith can.

“I think it’s a you thing,” Faith replies, squeezing Buffy’s waist. “We will get her. I know it.”

Buffy nods, drawing strength from Faith’s conviction. They’re all working on very little sleep and a lot of worry. She’s barely had time to process everything that’s happened in the last day, especially with Faith. On the plus side, the apocalypse does tend to stave off any post-first time awkwardness. Evil has its uses.   

“Naked invisible girl up here!” Marcie shouts down the stairs, annoyance clear in her voice.

Faith laughs, kissing Buffy’s shoulder and letting her go. “Anybody ever tell you patience is a virtue?” She calls back.

Buffy stoops to grab some fresh clothes from the extra she keeps in the training room. She hands her a set to Faith and grabs another set for Marcie.

“So’s chastity,” Marcie yells back, “and everyone in the whole house heard you two d—”

“Oooookay,” Buffy says, darting up the stairs. “Let’s focus, people.” She thrusts the clothing in Marcie’s general direction, waiting until she can feel her grab it before she releases the stack.

When Buffy and the newly clothed duo enter the shop proper, the entire group is crowded around the shop window, watching the scene outside. The throngs of fallen people lie still on the sidewalks and street, little bits of fuzz blowing and scuttling among them. Amy is nowhere to be seen.

Faith makes a beeline for Tara, squeezing in between her and Selima. She places her hand lightly on her uninjured shoulder in greeting. “Hey,” she says gently. “How you feeling?”

Tara shrugs, wincing a little at the movement. “I’m okay. The girls were able to repair a lot of the damage.” Her eyes flick back to the people outside, lying so still. “I’m worried about Will,” she confesses quietly.

Faith nods. She’s worried too. Reaching in her pocket, she fishes out a folded up sheet of paper that stayed miraculously dry in their trek through the sewer. She hands it to Tara. “She wanted me to give this to you.”

Tara’s grasp is tentative, worry clear on her face.

“I don’t think it’s anything, you know, scary,” Faith says in a quiet reassuring voice. “She was just worried about you.”

Tara nods, closing the note within her fist. She’ll read it in a minute. “Thank you,” she says, “for believing in her.”

Faith starts to shrug it off, but the sincerity is clear in Tara’s eyes.

The witch touches her arm softly. “Really,” she says.

Faith nods, embarrassed. “Welcome,” she says.

Marcie’s presence brushes by Faith’s back, inching up to the window. “What are those things?” She asks, mystified. “I thought Broom-Hilda was all about the animal possession.”

“They’re actually insects,” Dawn answers. “Beech blight aphids. They’re not dangerous until, you know—”

“Magically morphed into turbo killers?” Marcie asks.

“We’re not totally sure they’re dead,” Selima says quietly. “No way to tell unless we go out there.”

They’re all shaken, gazing out at the dozens of people Amy’s put the whammy on.

“Do you think it’s everyone?” Dawn asks, her voice high. “The whole town?”

Buffy pictures Sunnydale like a snow globe, impenetrable barriers on all sides, white specks floating around, and shudders. “I hope not.”

Giles says, “We should stay the course, follow our plans. She’s trying to throw us off track, and we can’t afford that.”

Pulling away from the window, Faith says, “Okay, so let’s strategize. B, did you tell them about um… our zoo-o-phile friend?”

The confused look on Buffy’s face is shared by most everyone.

“What’s bestiality got to do with this?” Marcie asks bluntly.

Faith sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

Giles pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I think what Faith’s trying to ask is whether we’ve been filled in on Amy’s use of animals for surveillance, and the answer is yes. Selima and Ayan have set up a screen to confound any attempts at spying.”

“Thanks, G,” Faith says agreeably, her mind at ease regarding Amy’s spying. She sits down, picking up a book from the stacks arranged on the shop’s table. “So, what’s the plan?”

Xander points to the whiteboard, where someone’s drawn a crude picture of the vineyard. “We’re going to try entering from the western entrance. We know she’s got defenses here and here.” He points to the northern edge of the property as well as the eastern. “We can handle her pets with enough witch fu, but if we enter from the east, we’re gonna get tripped up by the trapped sprits.”

Buffy joins him, studying the drawing. “Okay, so we go in from the west, hope we can keep the element of surprise.”

“We’d be going in blind though,” Marcie points out.

“There’s no guarantee that anything will be the same at this point,” Giles adds. “She’s had time to regroup.”

“So you’re saying our planning is basically pointless,” Dawn surmises. “Wonderful.”

Giles tries to infuse some optimism into his voice. “We have three witches and two slayers. We can handle her defenses. We just have to get close to her.”

“And then what?” Faith asks.

“And then we make the magic happen,” Selima says. “You and Buffy do whatever you can to distract her while we use the binding spell.”

“Are we sure this is going to work?” Buffy asks, her forehead wrinkling in concern. “Because last time we faced off with her, she wanted to serve Faith flambé, and I’m not looking for a repeat.” Across the table, Buffy’s and Faith’s eyes meet. The latter smiles gently, trying to reassure Buffy about their upcoming battle.

Tara and Selima exchange hesitant glances. Selima admits, “Permanent binding is very difficult to achieve for a born witch.”

“A born witch?” Faith asks curiously.

Selima explains, “Most witches are born with innate magical abilities.” She tilts her head to Tara. “Especially the powerful ones. It’s rare for a latecomer to develop very strong ability, as was the case with Willow. In terms of binding, it’s much more difficult to suppress innate magic.”

“But not impossible,” Tara interjects.

The group takes this in for a moment. Beside the whiteboard, Xander fidgets before speaking. “I don’t want to sound like yay murder here,” he begins tentatively, “but maybe we should be thinking of a more permanent solution?”

The assembled gang looks up, all of them now focused on Xander.

He looks a bit torn about his own suggestion. “I’m just saying… we don’t have a solution that isn’t going to give her time to pick a few of us off in the process, and even if we did, can we really guarantee we’ll put her down for good?”

“Killing her isn’t an option,” Buffy says, answering for all of them. Faith looks over at her, noticing the tightness in Buffy’s voice. The expression on Buffy’s face is the same one she spent more than a year seeing in the mirror. They both know how it feels to take a life. Faith can still feel Allen Finch’s eyes boring into hers, until she saw the light there flicker out. She can smell the bitter copper scent of Lester Worth’s blood like it’s still on her clothes. There isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t think about the damage she did.

“Xander may be right,” Giles says gently, looking at Buffy’s stricken face. “We can’t let her keep doing this.” He gestures toward the window to the outside world.

“We won’t,” Buffy insists. “We’ll get the binding spell done.”

“And what if we can’t?” Giles asks seriously. “We have a duty to protect people from her.”

“Duty?” Buffy asks, upset. “We’re talking about a human being.”

Faith knows exactly why Buffy can’t face the thought of taking Amy out. The first time—Allen Finch—that was an accident. Faith hadn’t handled it, hadn’t stopped there, and it almost destroyed her. If it weren’t for Angel, she wouldn’t be here. That’s a path she never wants to go down again. She lost almost every piece of herself the first time around. How could she come back again?

“We’re talking about a murderer,” Giles points out, raising his voice. “Buffy, she’s not an innocent. If we don’t stop her, more people are going to die.”

Faith can’t bear to keep looking at Buffy’s face, so hurt and torn.

“Buffy,” Giles begins again.

Cutting him off, Faith says forcefully, “She said no.” All heads turn toward her, and Faith stands up, angry. “You can take the guy out of the Council but not the Council out of the guy, I guess.”

Glaring, Giles says, “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Faith asks. She steps around him, walking to Buffy’s side so they stand facing him together. “Because it looks to me like you still think you know best, and we oughtta just fall in line.”

Giles shakes his head. “We’ve all seen what Amy’s capable of. I’m trying to explore all the options.”

Before Faith can speak, Buffy answers, “Well, we explored it, and now we’re done.” Without looking away from Giles, she takes Faith’s hand and holds it tightly.

Giles stares at her for a long moment, and then nods tightly. “Then let’s get back to it.”

Everyone returns to their books, and Giles strides to the whiteboard, jotting down notes as they’re mentioned.

Buffy squeezes Faith’s hand, drawing her gaze. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

Nodding, Faith squeezes back. From the corner of her eye, she sees Tara standing alone, reading over the note from Willow. After a beat, the witch looks up, catching Faith’s eye. She tilts her head to the side, indicating Faith should follow her to the stockroom.

“I’m gonna check on Tara,” Faith tells Buffy, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “You okay?”

Buffy nods. When Faith peers a little more closely at her, looking for signs of deception, she cracks a small smile. “Go on, I’m fine.”

In the stockroom, Tara’s re-reading the letter. She looks up when Faith enters.

“What’s up?” Faith asks, concerned.

Tara looks grim as she holds out the note to Faith. “I need your help.”

XXXXX

Faith is checking the weapons she’s got strapped to herself. The witches have finished their preparations and neatly packed ingredients sit in three bags on the table. Ayan, Selima, and Tara peer down at notes written in Selima’s neat writing, reviewing the spell one final time before they head out.

“Uh, guys,” Marcie starts to say, only to be cut off by Giles’s and Xander’s re-entry into the room.

“Everyone ready?” Giles asks, zipping his jacket. “The back looks pretty clear, but of course we’ll take precautions getting to the cars.”

“About that,” Marcie says, her voice louder. “This might be a problem.”

Outside the window, the people in the street have risen to their feet.

“They’re better?” Buffy asks, as they all crowd around the window again.

The people in the street all open their eyes in unison.

“Uh,” Xander says, followed by, “That’s not good,” when all their eyes begin to glow bright blue.

“That’s very not good,” Buffy mutters, as the group of them begin to shuffle toward the Magic Box. The first of them reaches the window, and raises a fist, smashing it down against the glass in front of Buffy.

They all step back quickly, rushing to grab their supplies.

Even as she tucks a dagger into her boot and grabs her jacket, Buffy says, “This seems really advanced. Maybe we need to re-group before we just go charging in.”

“Willow’s there,” Tara says firmly. “We’re going tonight.”

Buffy looks reluctant to make her next point, but she does it anyway. “Are we sure this isn’t Willow?” She gestures toward the assembled townspeople who are now pounding on Giles’s window.

“Willow is good,” Tara says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “The only reason she’s there is to help us, and I am not going to leave her hanging. So either help me, or give me the car keys, because I am going to get her right now.”

Buffy looks at Faith, who nods. She’s with Tara on this. Willow’s doing the double agent routine and she’s expecting the cavalry. There’s no option but to go now. At the front of the store, the glass breaks, and the first of the townspeople stumbles through it.

“Okay,” Buffy says, “then I guess it’s show time.”

XXXXX

“Still feeling confident?” Buffy whispers to Faith as they climb out of the Jeep. Behind them, Giles’s small car pulls to a stop. The premium on the Jeep’s probably gonna go up after all the scratches it just incurred by driving through the woods, but at least there weren’t any people throwing themselves at the cars once they entered.

Faith nods tensely, her eyes scanning the surrounding clearing beside the vineyard. Once she deems it safe, she opens the back door, allowing Dawn to step out. Xander and Tara follow. Spike and Giles open the car doors, pulling the seats forward so Selima, Ayan, and Marcie can get out.

As the second group meets the first, Buffy looks at Spike. “Thanks for coming,” she says quietly. “We can use all the help we can get.” Looking to the group at large, she squares her shoulders. There’s no hint of hesitation in her voice when she says, “Everybody ready?”

The group nods, their faces stony and prepared.

“One more thing,” Selima says, fishing in her pocket and producing a handful of small coins. She holds her palm out, waiting for each of them to take one of the misshapen discs before explaining. “These are bewitched,” she says. “If you get separated, squeeze this between your fingers, and it’ll bring you back. I have the coin of origin.”

“Clever,” Buffy says approvingly, tucking hers carefully in her pocket. “Let’s hope we don’t need them.”

XXXXX

Buffy leads the way down the basement stairs silently, fists up and alert. They’ve met absolutely no resistance thus far—not a skinbat or a burnbug to be found. There’s having the element of surprise, and then there’s walking into a trap. Buffy’s beginning to feel a bit like a curious fly who’s wandered too close to a spider’s web. She steps cautiously down into the corridor, moving out ahead so the others can join her. The corridor is lit with flickering torches, casting deep shadows against the walls.

“Now she’s just fucking with us,” Marcie mutters under her breath. “You know this place has electricity.”

“She’s got a flare for the dramatic,” Faith snickers back. “Did you see that dress she was wearing earlier?”

“That was practical,” Marcie says. “How else would you transport millions of poisonous insects except a ball gown?”

“Can we talk about Amy’s questionable fashion sense later?” Buffy asks through gritted teeth.

Faith and Marcie nod, properly chagrined. The group stands at the mouth of the corridor, waiting on Buffy’s move. Ahead she can only see darkness, but there’s only one way to go, so forward it is. They creep quietly ahead, with Tara, Marcie, and Selima sandwiched between the slayers.

They walk about 50 paces down the hall when the torches around them suddenly flicker out. Faith presses forward, putting herself at Buffy’s back. She can feel the tension radiating off her fellow slayer, both of them on edge and ready for a fight.

“Buffy,” comes Willow’s voice from the darkness in front of them. She sounds positively delighted to have their fortress infiltrated. A snapping sound later, light floods the room.

A quick look around shows them that they’re no longer in the hall they’ve been following, but rather a large circular chamber. Willow and Amy stand on a raised platform, large chairs like thrones behind them. The two witches peer at them with great interest.

“Willow,” Buffy acknowledges, her voice firm and unafraid. She curls her lip as she looks the pair of witches up and down. “You guys been raiding Drusilla’s closet?”

Willow smirks, touching the long dress draped around her body. “There’s something about a fancy dress that just puts you in the mood to kill slayers.”

Beside her, Amy nods emphatically. She strokes a possessive hand down Willow’s back. “You’re so sexy when you’re plotting murder,” she says.

“Oh, my God,” Faith says from her place at Buffy’s shoulder, “this is how they’re planning to kill us.” Tara stands at her shoulder, and Faith’s acutely aware of the anger radiating from her. The witch keeps quiet for the moment.

“By making our eyes bleed?” Buffy suggests.

Chuckling mirthlessly, Willow says, “Good one, Buff.” She cranes her head to look behind them. “The gang’s all here!”

Beside her, Amy’s lips twist into a pout. “I don’t recall inviting so many people over. Party crashers are so rude.”

Ayan takes a brave step forward, a spell already beginning on the tip of her tongue. Suddenly her mouth slams painfully closed, and a high-pitched whine emits from her nose.

"Children," Willow says, watching her with disinterest, "should be seen and not heard." She waves her hand and a large, clear box appears from the floor, immediately snaring Dawn, Ayan, and Xander within. The three of them pound on the inside, no sound breaking through the magically enforced walls. "Oops," Willow laughs. "Caught one too many."

"Nice parlor trick," Selima says, sounding bored.

"Don't worry," Amy says mischievously, "we'll get down to the business of bleeding you dry and dancing on your bones in a minute." Her dark eyes blink at the large box in consideration. "First, let's make sure our little friends don't get bored before we get back to them." She raises her thumb in front of her squinting like an artist studying her work. Then, with a sweep of her hand, the three Scoobs are no longer alone in the box.

Dawn screams as the ground beneath her feet shakes, and a tall tree shoots forth, knocking her askew. Trees and plants begin to erupt from all sides, sending the three people inside crashing back and forth. Just when it seems the box will explode from being too full, it expands, growing taller and wider, forcing everyone in the room to back up or get plowed down.

Inside the box, the trees are so thick that they can barely see. Ayan yanks Dawn back to her feet, and the two of them quickly move to stand over Xander, who is bleeding from a head wound. From within the forest around them, rustling noises begin to emerge. A soft glow of light illuminates the darkness, and Dawn looks around for the source. When she finds it, she wishes she hadn't.

"Are those....?" Xander asks feebly.

"Eyes," Ayan finishes.

From outside, the new inhabitants in the box are immediately obvious. Buffy can barely see the three of them through the trees, but she sees enough to know they’re outgunned and outnumbered. Faith and Buffy begin kicking at the box, hoping to shatter it with their slayer strength.

When not so much as a crack appears, Buffy turns furious eyes to the two witches who still sit on their makeshift thrones. "Let them out!" She demands.

"What do you think, Will?" Amy asks, pretending to consider this request. "Have we been too hasty? The little witch might have been an interesting addition to our family."

Willow pouts. "Too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the soup."

“Speaking of soup,” Amy says, as she plays with the ends of Willow’s hair, “we’d better go check on dinner. Don’t want our guests to go hungry.”

“Good idea,” Willow says, grabbing Amy’s hand. She winks at them with large black eyes. “Catch us if you can.”

Alone in the room, the Scoobs look at one another. “She’s trying to split us up,” Giles says.

“And she’s going to succeed,” Selima answers. “We have to get them out of there.”

Faith strides over to the abandoned thrones, lifts one above her head, and runs back toward them at full slayer speed. She throws it as hard as she can at the side of the box, leaping out of the way when it bounces back at her.

“Stop,” Selima advises, “it’s too well reinforced. We’re not getting in that way.” She looks at the pouch hanging on a cord around her neck. Selima lifts it free and holds it out to Tara. “You should go on. I can handle this.”

Buffy immediately shakes her head. “No way. Faith and I will go after them, hold them off until you guys get there. Tara, you stay with Selima.”

Tara adds Selima’s pouch to the one hanging around her neck, squares her shoulders, and faces Buffy calmly. “Like hell I will.” She starts moving, walking right past Buffy and Faith. “Are you coming?”

The two slayers look at one another. Faith shrugs helplessly. “We can’t stop her.”

“Fine,” Buffy says resigned. “Spike, Marcie, you’re with us.” She looks at her Watcher. “Take care of my sister.”

In spite of their earlier disagreement, Giles understands all the words Buffy doesn’t say. Her eyes do the talking for her, telling him to be careful because she couldn’t bear to lose any of them. He touches her elbow briefly. “I will,” he vows.

The chamber has many halls leading from it, so many that Faith’s no longer sure they’re in the vineyard. Tara seems to choose one at random, and they fall in line behind her, Buffy giving a final worried glance over her shoulder toward the rest of their group. Faith catches her eye when she turns back, giving her a reassuring smile. “They can handle it,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Buffy says, but her voice rings false. “I’m a little more worried about us. We’re down two witches.”

“I got a feeling we’re only going to need the one,” Faith says, watching Tara’s fast, deliberate walk.

Buffy pulls a worried face. Tara’s single minded quest to get to Willow is only a good thing as long as Willow’s still on their side. There will be no way to really know until they find them. She knows the best-laid plans go astray, but still, she’d rather know what they’re walking into.

Tara stops in her tracks, so suddenly the slayers almost plow her down.

“What is it?” Marcie asks in a whisper.

Tara holds up her hand for quiet. A moment later she shakes her head quickly, wheeling to face them. “Go back!”

They all turn, intending to haul ass back the way they came, but Spike says, “I can’t!”

Faith yanks a torch from the wall, pointing it ahead. There’s a solid wall behind Spike, unflinching under the weight of his shoving.

“Shit,” she has time to swear before the floor falls from under their feet, leaving them plummeting into darkness below.

The water is ice cold and steals the breath from her lungs. The torch in her hand is extinguished immediately, useless dead weight in her hand as her body sinks down into the water they’ve landed in. The temperature attacks her skin, feeling like thousands of needles puncturing her skin. Faith fights the urge in her lungs to suck in a breath, forcing her legs to begin kicking. Her arms extend over her head, pushing back down against the water. She can feel she’s rising, buoyancy and her efforts slowly bringing her closer to the surface. There’s a current yanking her body along, foiling most of her efforts.

Just when she thinks her lungs will burst, she bobs to the surface. Faith’s face breaks through momentarily, before falling under again. She kicks frantically, breaking the surface again. The water around here is rushing, foaming white where it breaks against jagged rocks and protrusions from the water’s surface. They’re in some kind of underwater rapids system. Torches are bolted to the stone walls surrounding them, casting dull light over the water. She can see Spike ahead of her, frantically trying to stay afloat. His arms clutch at empty space, but Faith can see the water beside him parting as if forced by an object. He notices her, and screams, “I have Marcie!”

Faith frantically paddles to the side, narrowly avoiding a particularly large rock. She looks behind her just as a blonde head shoots free from the water, coughing raucously. Buffy emerges behind Tara, propelling the witch upward even as her body weight forces Buffy back underwater. Faith swims against the current, reaching them and taking some of Tara’s weight from Buffy.

Supported by the two of them, Tara wheezes, trying to get her breath back. The current rushes them after Spike, still juggling Marcie’s limp form. There’s no way of dodging the protrusions, and Buffy’s shoulder smacks into a collapsed tree. She’s wrenched backward and away from Tara and Faith.

She comes up sputtering, and swims toward the sound of Faith screaming her name. Faith and Tara face backward, both reaching back for her. They hear Spike’s warning cry but they can’t see the cause. Buffy does, watching in horror as Spike and Marcie plummet over the side of an abrupt drop in the water.

“Faith!” She screams, trying to swim harder. “Look out!”

Faith looks back just in time to see the water disappear out from under her, leaving nothing but a drop to an unseen landing point. She tightens her arms around Tara as they fall, keeping herself on the bottom as they flail in the air. She sees Buffy come sailing over the precipice, her arms pin wheeling as if she could stop herself from falling. Then her back hits water. The impact is hard, Tara’s body first pushing her down and then being swept away from her. A sharp pain rings in Faith’s ears, radiating from the back of her head. She reaches for Tara but gets only empty, cold water.

Buffy comes up, dragging herself forward until she feels soil under her feet. In the dimly lit chamber, she can’t even make out the top of the cliff they just fell from. Spike drags Marcie out, and from the way he’s stooped, she can tell Marcie is at least walking. Scanning the choppy water, she sees Tara dog paddling in the deepest section. Faith is nowhere to be seen.

“Spike!” Buffy yells, pointing out toward Tara.

Spike looks, nodding his understanding as he pulls Marcie up onto the shore.

Buffy wades back in, slipping under briefly when the soil suddenly drops off beneath her feet. She swims toward Tara, scanning the water for any sign of Faith. Spike sloshes in behind her, his long strokes quickly bridging the distance between them. They meet Tara, who quickly wraps her arms around Spike’s neck for support. “I don’t know where she went,” Tara gasps through blue lips. “We fell together, but I-I can’t find her!”

Spike offers, “Let me,” but Buffy shakes her head already gathering her breath to dive. “Get her safe. I’ll find Faith.”

Spike doesn’t need to breathe. Maybe he would have been the superior search and rescue operation, but Buffy’s not about to leave Faith’s life in any hands but her own. She dips under the surface, forcing her eyes open in the frigid water. The waterfall continues under the surface, forcing a churning whirlpool at the foot of the falls. It’s dark, almost too dark for even her superhuman sight, but Buffy swims right into the heart.

Here the water hits like jackhammers, knocking her back and forth, threatening to force the remaining air from her lungs. Her eyes close instinctively before she can force them back open. For a moment she’s lying in another candlelit cavern, feeling cold water seep into her lungs, powerless to fight the Master’s thrall even as she feels her life draining from her. Buffy fights to keep her bearings and her breath, swimming down, down, into impenetrable darkness.

If ever there was a time for her slayer senses to come through, now is it. Please, oh, please Buffy thinks, ceasing her movements, tuning out her screaming lungs and muscles, and reaching out with every fiber of her mental being. For a moment she stills, sinking in the water like a stone. Then the tiniest spark of recognition ignites low in her spine, and Buffy wheels in the water, swimming toward it with all her might.

It’s not graceful by any stretch of the imagination. She collides with Faith’s still form hard enough that she almost sends her tumbling too far out of reach. Then her fingers knot in Faith’s t-shirt, and she’s kicking, up and diagonal, away from the falls and the deep, deep dark.

Faith is deadweight. Their waterlogged clothing fights every upward cut of Buffy’s free arm. She can’t even stop to remove the heavy weapons they’re both carrying. She can’t let Faith go, and she can’t last much longer down here without air.

Buffy drags Faith upward, cradling her body in both arms as her legs propel them upward. The pace is torturous, but she starts to see light flickering through the water. She swims harder, hugging Faith’s still frame tightly to her. Their heads break the surface, and she sees Spike swimming toward them already. On the shore, Tara slumps on her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath.

Buffy tilts Faith’s head back and out of the water, turning her body to use her own as a flotation device. “Faith,” she pants, her voice hoarse. “Faith, come on!”

Faith doesn’t move as Buffy reaches Spike, and he begins to assist her. Together they drag Faith to shore. Buffy drops to her knees in the shallow lapping water, her clammy hands reaching for Faith’s cold, ashen face. Blood mixes with the sand under her head. “No, no, no!” Buffy chants.

“Uh oh,” Comes a voice behind them, and light suddenly blooms through an opening in what was previously the solid back wall of the cavern. Willow and Amy materialize, their long gowns dragging across the rocky soil.

“You’d think all slayers could swim,” Amy says mildly, leering over at the unmoving Faith.

“Doesn’t matter,” Willow says thoughtfully. “Buffy’ll get her all fixed up. Won’t you, Buff?”

Buffy doesn’t even look up, her hands already folded against Faith’s chest and desperately compressing. Come on, Faith, she thinks.

“You go right ahead,” Willow encourages her, a crooked grin on her face. “Save your girl. Meanwhile,” she begins, her head snapping toward Tara faster than a human being’s should be able to, “we’ll just have a little chat with Tara.”

Tara doesn’t look up, her hands quickly working with the sodden contents of one of the pouches she wears. Spike steps protectively forward, putting himself between her and the two standing witches.

Willow looks at Amy. “Bored now,” she says, her face flat. Without glancing away, she extends her arm and flings Tara bodily across the room, knocking Spike out of the way in the process.

Tara cries out as she skids to a stop at their feet, her spell ingredients spread uselessly across the cavern floor.

“Hi, baby,” Willow purrs, flicking her fingers so Tara’s yanked to her feet. “So nice of you to drop by.” She lifts a hand to Tara’s face, gently running her fingernails down her cool cheek.

“W-Willow,” Tara starts, cutting herself off as Willow leans in close to her mouth.

“Willow’s not home right now,” Willow sing songs. With one last smirk in Buffy’s direction, she yanks Tara in front of her body, slamming her open palm against Tara’s chest. It seems to sink down under Tara’s skin, and she lets out a single hoarse cry.

“No!” Buffy screams, leaping over Faith’s body and running at the witches.

Amy’s palm rises, and a blue translucent shield bursts forth, slamming into Buffy’s moving form and propelling her back.

Buffy collides with Spike and slides to the ground, dazed. Through blurry vision, she sees Tara’s back arch, her body contorted unnaturally. Then Willow lets go, and Tara collapses at her feet, a black handprint burned through her clothing and skin. Willow looks at them through the force field, as veins crawl up the side of her neck, spreading onto her cheeks. She licks her lips and looks at Amy. “Your turn.”