Fic: Intervention Ch I (Final Edit)

[Phoen Dusk <Dusk@xxxxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned and copyrighted by Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros., and 20th Century Fox Television. I do not
claim ownership; I just want to rent the characters and their lives for a few
hundred paragraphs. There is an original character, but someone else thought up
the basis for this guy a few thousand years ago.
Summary: Relationships involving Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Tara? but who
ends up with whom? Oh, and a prophecy involving a Slayer going to Hell.
Spoilage: Events prior to and including ?Who Are You?, though ?Superstar?
does not occur afterward. Deviation from Joss' continuity goes from there.
Warning/Rating: This fic series is rated NC-17 for descriptions of violence,
explicit language, sexual situations between consenting adults of the same
gender, and the most dangerous and explosive thing humanity has to deal with
(not telling; figure it out). If you do not care for this type of writing, go
read something a little more vanilla.
Distribution: RTF version available. Considering I don't have time to do a
website, just ask.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Intervention
FanFiction by Phoen Dusk

Chapter I: Some Days

They say nighttime in Paris is the most beautiful sight in the world.
Apparently, these people have never seen the French Quarter of New Orleans just
after sunset. The classic architecture. The playing shadows, as the last rays
of light seem to try and hold out until morning. Then, the dancing, twinkling
array of stars overhead, reminding people of the minor role we play in the
Universe, but the major role we need to play in each other?s lives.
Seated at an outdoor cafe, a gentleman who understood this concept was
enjoying the close of his first day of vacation in quite a number of years. He
appeared to be in his late twenties, with long, straight black hair kept in a
thick braid extending down to his waist. His skin was an olive-tan, suggesting
a Mediterranean heritage, while his eyes remained hidden behind a pair of
impossibly black sunglasses. Black jeans, a black t-shirt with a SandmanTM
Death print, and sandals kept him from having to walk around naked, while a
black leather duster was slung over the back of the chair opposite him.
He was reading a local paper and drinking fresh cappuccino when he heard a
pager start to beep. Seeing no one else around, he looked down to notice he was
the one wearing it. On the digital display, two words were alternating in
appearance.
Alleyway. Now.
Sighing in resignation, he stood up, stretching his six and a half foot
frame. Reaching to the other chair, he grabbed the duster, slowly putting it
on, then proceeded to pick up a black leather backpack which had been lying
underneath the coat. The pack had seen him through rigorous trials over the
years, and he slung it over his right shoulder as he prepared to leave the
cafe. He dropped a fifty for the waitress as he stepped onto the sidewalk. The
coffees had only cost him ten, but she had a kid and college classes to pay for,
and he really didn?t have that much use for money, anyway.
Cautiously entering the alley, he took sight of a woman who could have been a
photographic negative of himself: black skin, white hair, white clothing, and
silver mirror shades, though she was roughly nine inches shorter. A smile
appeared below those shades, and the gentleman from the cafe began walking
further into the alley, addressing the other person present.
?Malaika.?
?Uriel, old man, how are you??
?Fine, you promiscuous little nymph.?
?Oh, that hurt. This from a guy who, in his day, talked more women out of
their pants than Hugh Hefner.?
?I keep telling you, there were no pants back then!?
They settled into a laugh, a handshake, and a hug. Malaika was a good
friend, and though it was pleasant to see her, she never stopped to see Uriel
unless there was a problem.
?So, how are you, Uriel? Seriously.?
?I was starting to relax for a change. You know, kick back, unwind, maybe
convince a horde of women to do more than just flash me during Mardi Gras this
year.?
?Perv. Still on the lookout, eh??
?I look at it as a long dry spell.? Uriel let a wry smirk emerge as he
continued. ?The world continues onward, careless of my loneliness.?
?Glad to see you keep things in perspective. I have your new assignment.?
?No problem. What does She want me to do??
?Don?t know. All I know is I?m supposed hand you the files and get you to a
place called Sunnydale in California.?
?How soon??
?Ah... yesterday.?
?And you waited because...??
?You deserved a day off.?
Uriel had to laugh at that one. The job he had undertaken had given Malaika
his old position, and the last time Malaika had a day off was... well, let?s
just say she needed one about as badly as Uriel had.
?Thanks. How is The Lady, anyway??
?Don?t know. No one has seen her in the last few years. She told us she was
going on a trip, to keep an eye on the store while she was gone, and to make
sure you-know-who didn?t take the blame for everything that goes wrong.?
?Has she forgiven me yet??
?You?re still getting field assignments, aren?t you??
?Good point. Anyway, I guess I should get started. Whom should I be looking
for??
?Let me dig out the paperwork out so you can see for yourself.?
Malaika reached inside her coat, drawing out a rather padded black manila
folder, bound shut by a black cord. Uriel?s face went slightly pale, already
knowing that this was going to be his worst assignment ever. Mission profile
folders were color-coded by increasing difficulty, starting with silver, then
white, followed by orange, green, red, blue, purple, navy, black, and gold. The
navy blue folders were almost impossible to fulfill without any loss of life;
black folders were usually fatal to yourself and several others; gold could cost
you your soul. Prior to today, the worst he had dealt with was an
inter-connected series of navy and purple assignments, which had kept him
occupied the last six years. Uriel had only heard vague rumors of the eleven
black folders and three gold ones currently in existence, and now he was face to
face with one of them.
As Malaika handed it to Uriel, he read the name on the tab: Summers,
Elizabeth Anne. A picture of a young blonde woman was paper-clipped to the
front, her face reflecting youth, but showing years of anguish and weariness
within her eyes.
?Her story??
?She?s the Slayer.?
?Interesting. Explains the eyes, not to mention the black profile
classification. Since when do we lend them any sort of assistance??
?She?s unique.?
?They all were.?
?This one has the chance to start a lineage.?
Uriel whistled appreciatively at that one. Most Slayers had managed to be
killed, either by vampires or frightened villagers who saw her as much of a
threat as the undead were, by the time they were seventeen. Most who underwent
the test at eighteen died during it, and those who survived lasted another three
years at most, whether they decided to stay the Slayer or not. The possibility
of reaching childbearing age was not that difficult, but surviving the pregnancy
and birth while being hunted by vampires and demons was another story entirely.
There was a myth of one Slayer possibly having borne a child back in the
eleventh century. As the Slayer went into labor, a then three hundred year-old
vampire named Gornokmet came upon her, killed the midwife, and completely
drained the Slayer. The fate of the child was never known, though some
speculated the vampire had kept her. Answers were never received, as Gornokmet
was reportedly destroyed by a Slayer from France around 1430. Uriel looked to
Malaika, not knowing how this particular Slayer had a chance at giving birth,
especially given all the extra problems in the world.
?Okay, you have my attention? how??
?There are several reasons. The first one is this.?
Malaika dug out another folder from her coat, and Uriel blanched as he caught
sight of it: a gold profile folder, obscenely overstuffed and bound with a black
cord to prevent any of the paperwork from falling out. This was not shaping up
very well, even if there was a chance for a Slayer progeny. He caught the name
Casey, Faith on the tab, and looked at the picture attached. Her eyes were much
more haunted than those of the Slayer?s, with dark circles playing heavily below
them. There was a look of remorse and sorrow behind the hard, jaded façade,
though it would have difficulty emerging from behind the mask this young woman
wore.
?And who is this youngling with the dark locks??
?She would be the Slayer.?
Uriel had been confused in his life exactly twice prior to today. The first
time had been the only time a woman said she was in love with him. The second
time was ten minutes after that, when he told her he didn?t feel the same and
she suddenly screamed she hated him. This was quickly becoming number three.
?Huh??
?Elizabeth Anne Summers was ?killed? by a powerful vampire, who didn?t bother
to drain her completely; he simply left her unconscious and face-down in a pool
of water. She drowned. She was dead for maybe two minutes before a friend of
hers performed CPR and brought her back. This allowed for another Slayer to be
called, even though the first wasn?t permanently deceased. So, now there will
be two active Slayers for the foreseeable future.?
?Considering how bad things have become, I guess the world needs two Chosen.
I assume while the Summers girl is pregnant, the other one will take care of the
Slayer duties??
?Your guess is as good as mine. I wasn?t allowed to look over the files,
just given a brief summary and told to deliver them to you. There are two more
I?m supposed to hand over, so you might want to sit down somewhere to read all
of it.?
?I think I need a drink first.?
?Weren?t you just knocking back some coffee??
Tilting his head down to accentuate his words, Uriel offered his reply. ?I
had something stronger in mind.?
?Okay? the bar across the street??
Uriel nodded, and the two of them proceeded into the establishment. Taking a
darkened booth in the back corner, they were quickly approached by a waitress.
She glanced at Uriel first, recognizing that ?alcohol welcome here? look in his
expression.
?What can I get you this evening??
?Amaretto. Bring the bottle and two shot glasses.?
The waitress was a little surprised, but shrugged it off. ?For both of you??

?For him. I?ll have a Red Death.?
?Back in a minute.?
Malaika understood the emotional distress her companion must have been
feeling. Few occupations ever required someone to willingly risk their very
existence. The waitress was back with their drinks before she could offer any
consolation, though. She dropped them off and left, prudence apparently
outweighing curiosity.
After pouring shots of the sweet liqueur into both glasses and downing them
himself, Uriel felt he was ready. ?Next.?
Malaika obliged him, retrieving a dark gray folder bound by a black cord
similar to the one on the other files. Several tabs were sticking out from the
top, and Uriel noticed the colors were dark and somewhat indistinct. Removing
the cord, he sifted through the internal files, noting name, file color, and
brief summary.
Giles, Rupert, a.k.a. Ripper. Navy folder. Demonologist; Combat Instructor;
Ex-Watcher; Practitioner of Class V Magick, with estimated Class XI potential.
Uriel was not happy. Class XI Magick was able to cause some serious damage
in the wrong hands, even those not intentionally trying to do so. Most humans
could work Class II on a subconscious level, but those whom actively pursued the
Art could reach Class XV, though such an occurrence was rare. Apparently, this
fellow had done some serious delving.
Harris, Alexander. Gray folder. Classified.
?Classified?? He wasn?t sure how to take that, given that he was supposed to
be informed of whom he was dealing with. The folder hadn?t even been assigned a
color yet. He stared at the bottle of Amaretto, suddenly wondering how many
more of them he was going to go through before the night was over.
?Don?t look at me. I didn?t even know anything was inside the gray folder
until you removed the cord.? Malaika looked at her glass, which was already
half gone. Suddenly, she was glad Uriel had suggested getting a drink. She
watched as he poured and knocked back his third pair of shots before moving on
to the next folder in the comprehensive file.
Rosenberg, Willow. Black folder. Research Specialist; Computer Hacker;
Practitioner of Class IX Magick, with estimated Class XLV potential. Warning:
Use extreme caution when approaching.
Uriel choked. Another black folder. A black folder for a Practitioner. A
black folder for a Practitioner who could compare herself to Talesin, the last
known human able to even possess the potential for that kind of power. His
current whereabouts and status were unknown, though most speculations placed him
in an alternate reality of his own creation. Malaika?s voice brought him back
to some semblance of linear thought.
?Uriel? Hey, you okay??
?Practitioner. Class XLV potential.?
Malaika could only think of one response to that. ?Waitress? Bring me two
more of these.? She looked to Uriel?s blank stare and amended herself. ?And
another bottle of Amaretto for my friend.?


After three hours, seven Red Deaths and four bottles of Amaretto, Uriel had
finished reading four of the five profiles he had been given. He was starting
on his fifth bottle of Amaretto when his companion, her speech slurred slightly,
inquired something of him.
?How bad is it??
Uriel resisted the urge to laugh, knowing he would start crying if he did.
?All things considered? A non-coded profile, a navy profile, two black
profiles, and a gold profile. Within that, we have not one, but two Slayers, a
Demonologist who is a skilled Practitioner, a Computer Wiz who just happens to
have the potential to be a demi-power, and a guy whom I only have a name for
because the Classified seal on his file refuses to release!
?Of the two Slayers, the first has had a wonderful life thusfar. First, her
name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls her Buffy. Second, her freshman year of
high school, in Los Angeles, she found out she was a Slayer. Through a nasty
set of events and a boom in vampire population, she had to torch the school gym
in order to get rid of them all. Third, she moved to Sunnydale, which just
happens to have been built over a Hellmouth. There, she fell in love with a
vampire with a Human soul, inadvertently caused him to lose it, watched him maim
and torture her friends, and then sent him to Hell right after he regained his
soul in order to save the world from being devoured. That was before she
finished her junior year of high school. She left for a short time after that,
trying to sort things out and escape being ?the Slayer.? Failed to happen, so
she came back, but things were ugly for awhile with her mother and friends.
?Shortly after that, our girl Faith arrives in Sunnydale. Boston born, she
was abused and molested by her father, then her step-brother as a child. She
quickly learned the concept of travelling after she was Called to escape some of
the hardships she had endured, just to encounter new ones. Her Watcher was
ripped apart by a vampire named Kakistos right in front of her eyes. She ran,
and he hunted her cross-country until she met up with Elizabeth, who helped her
defeat him. Their relationship was tenuous at best, but while out bonding and
breaking all the rules one night, Faith accidentally killed an innocent
bystander. Well, he was the aide of the demon-wannabe Mayor, but he was still
human.
?Anyway, Faith acts like nothing happened, and the rift starts to open
between the Slayers. Faith goes to work for the Mayor, and she and Elizabeth
start running into one another. Needless to say, they come together in that
expectant final battle. Faith loses, and due to a horrendous amount of lost
blood she winds up in a coma. Then, to stop the Mayor, the Slayer and her
friends had to blow up the high school. That was eight months ago. Two days
ago, Faith woke up and, armed with a trinket the Mayor posthumously left her,
switched bodies with Elizabeth. Six hours ago, they switched back with a spell
one of the other profiles concocted.?
Uriel stopped for a moment, poured himself another pair of shots, and dropped
them back. Malaika just stared at him, wondering how he could put away so much
alcohol and not feel any effects. She also considered the chance that he wasn?t
feeling anything at this point. Something he had said didn?t seem to be
logistically possible, but she allowed herself to recline in the alcoholic
numbness and shrugged it off. His voice, still unaffected, sounded in her ears
once more.
?Then we have their former Watcher. He did a fair amount of experimentation
back in his twenties: drugs, some rather kinky sex and, of course, demon
summoning. The guy loves Elizabeth like a daughter, but has been going through
a personal crisis since the Watchers? Council fired him. Then, when they had to
blow up the school, he found himself out of a job, which made him feel as though
he had no reason to be in her life.
?I have a file on another guy, but the fucking thing is still closed.
Without so much as a photo, I could trip over the guy and never know it.
?And, finally, our little redheaded witch. Cute girl. She was kind of a
loner in high school, so she started playing around with computers and
discovered she had a real talent with them. She started getting into Magick and
found she had a natural talent for that, too. So far, she summoned a vampiric
version of herself from an alternate reality, performed a ritual to return the
soul of a person transformed into a vampire, and caught the attention of the
Vengeance Demon Council after casting a Class XVII ?Invoke Will? spell that
ended up making the lives of her friends temporarily miserable. The best part
is, she has so much potential she could redesign the face of the planet if she
wanted, but self-doubt keeps her from exploring it fully.
?For some reason, I have to get involved with these people. Beyond that,
there was no information relevant to the assignment in any of the files? not
even sure if I should aid them or keep them from drawing breath again.?
Malaika frowned, unsure of what to say to Uriel after all that. She wondered
why no instructions had been given, when a moment of clarity allowed her to
remember something.
?Oh, duh. The other folder. It seems The Lady had kept this file set aside
before She left, marked to be given to you the next time I was to deliver your
mission profile. There is supposed to be a letter inside for you. Maybe the
instructions are in there??
She slid a pale gray folder into his hands, which he opened with no effort,
though Uriel could feel a seal breaking at his touch, and saw the ?letter? lying
on top. On a sheet of gold parchment, he quietly read the missives that had
been left for him.
To the Chosen you must lend your strength.
To the Practitioner you must lend your wisdom.
To the Chosen you must teach compassion.
To the Practitioner you must teach forgiveness.
To the Chosen you must give healing.
To the Practitioner you must give peace of mind.
Uriel was somewhat confused. Was it referring to one or both Slayers when it
mentioned ?Chosen?? As for the Practitioner, did it mean the ex-Watcher or the
redheaded hacker? He looked further down the page, noting another line that he
would swear hadn?t been there at first.
While facing the known darkness, the Chosen shall fall from a hidden one, and
Hell shall claim a Slayer for its own. The twin Sisters have decreed it so; no
man may intervene.
??The twin Sisters?? Who the Hell are?? Half of the color drained from his
face as realization of whom The Lady had meant dawned on him. ?Oh, fuck me.
This is just? perfect.?
?What??
?I have to deal with the Norns? panthenogenic Sisters, Fate and Destiny.?
?Somebody must really not like you.?
?Tell me about it.? Seeing that the most recent bottle was still more than
half full, Uriel picked it up and took a long swig, lowering the contents to
one-thirds full. ?As if the rest of this failed to be cryptic enough. As to
which part applies to which person, or if it would apply to more than one, I
have no idea.? Turning the page over, he decided to check if there was anything
else. There was.
When this assignment is completed? come home.
?Home... I can finally go home...? Tears started welling up in his eyes,
while Malaika looked at Uriel with a profound sense of awe.
?Wow... I guess all is finally forgiven. How long has it been??
?Since before you formed your first thought.? He regained his composure, and
wiped the tearstains from his cheeks. ?Now, shall we get out of here so you can
be a good girl and open a Gate for me so I can get there a lot sooner than
commercial travel would allow?? Uriel saw a smile creep onto her lips and knew
she was planning something. ?Not inside a women?s locker room this time,
either.?
?I would have thought you?d appreciate that.?
?Oh, yeah, great idea. A U.S. Marine Officers? Club Women?s locker room.
Yeah, I loved dodging bullets for two hours while half the base was chasing me.?

Her laughter began to drift throughout the bar. Hysterical laughter.
Drunken, hysterical laughter. He had no reason to stop her; Malaika needed to
do something to relieve some of the stress in her life. Uriel placed the files
into his backpack, dropped three hundred dollar bills on the table, then
staggered out of the bar with Malaika, returning to the alley they had come
across each other earlier that evening.
?So, this is your last assignment, huh??
?Appears to be. After this, I can reflect back on how all this began... and
why I opened my big mouth in the first place.?
?Hope this trip isn?t too memorable for you. You might not want to retire.?
?Yeah, right. If my luck holds out, I may make it out in less than eight
pieces. You sober enough to do this??
?You betcha, old man. Watch.?
Malaika gestured somatically, opening a Gate. A swirling disk of white,
blue, green, and gold shimmered, suspended in mid-air, and Uriel hugged Malaika
goodbye before stepping through. As he did so, he caught her grinning out of
the corner of his eye. As he came out the other side, Uriel saw why she had
been smiling. He found himself half a mile in the sky, plummeting towards the
ground at a high rate of speed. His backpack trailed a few yards above, the
wind resistance having an easier time slowing the less massive object. He
looked towards the ground, and saw himself overhead a burnt shell of a building;
probably the high school judging by the size. It appeared as though impact
would be, at best, excruciatingly painful.
?Shit. Not again.?
There were some days he hated his job. Today was turning out to be one of
them.

<*> UC Sunnydale <*> Sunnydale, CA <*>

Buffy Summers was having an unusual nightmare. That isn?t to say she didn?t
have them, just that normally they involved vampires or demons or some other
particularly nasty thing she had to beat. This particular nightmare involved
Faith.
They were in the Church. Faith was beating on her, attempting to kill her.
Except she wasn?t trying to kill Buffy per se. She was trying to kill herself.
Buffy had looked into Faith?s eyes, and saw the hatred there. Not for what had
happened to the younger Slayer, but for what she had done. The hard,
unrelenting life she lived. The pain. The distrust. The solitude. Buffy
wondered what Faith would have done had they remained in each other?s bodies.
Then, Faith reared back to deliver the killing blow, and Buffy watched as her
arm came forward in slow motion.
Usually, Buffy awoke from a nightmare screaming. This time, she opened her
eyes slowly, sat up in bed, and looked out the window, wondering where her
estranged counterpart had gone. She gazed towards the heavens and saw a
shooting star, though this one looked a little dimmer than most. It seemed to
be falling directly towards Sunnydale. As it descended lower, she could see it
was going to land somewhere in town. Following its trajectory, the Slayer
watched as it impacted, sending off a small burst of light. Thinking what lay
in that direction, Buffy could only think of one place. The high school, which
indirectly meant the Hellmouth. Shit.
Glancing at the clock, she noted the time to be 4:07am. Trying to be as
quiet as possible, she began to sneak around the room to get dressed. She found
herself unable to do so, as she stubbed her toe on the corner of her bed,
unleashing a muted profanity of choice at the slightly jarring pain.
Looking to the other bed to see if she had woken Willow, she took stock of
the fact that such a feat would have been rather difficult, given that Willow
wasn?t there. She was probably with that Tara girl, trying to either explain or
cover-up what had been going on. From what Giles had told her, Tara had been
the one to figure out she was in the wrong body, and she and Willow had
performed the spell that allowed her to switch back to her own body.
Another witch. It wasn?t that Buffy didn?t trust Magick, just? She wasn?t
fond of the stuff since that incident with the fear demon at the frat house
Halloween party. Or the Neanderthal beer. Or Willow?s spell that made her want
to marry Spike. Or when Ethan Rayne turned Giles into a demon. Or the artifact
that had allowed Faith to take over her body in the first place. And this was
just the last six months.
Okay, she hated Magick. She loathed it. If she couldn?t punch, kick, stake,
carve or bludgeon it, she did not want to deal with it. She needed to feel at
least partially in control, and Magick did not allow her that possibility.
With her body on autopilot, she had finished dressing and was already out the
door by the time she had formed this thought. Her weapons bag was a little
light, only holding six stakes, a crossbow, and a pair of swords. She could
call Giles and ask him to bring some alternative artillery, but it was better to
let him sleep. If this looked to be a nasty that was too tough to handle solo,
she could get everyone together afterwards. Either that, or she could introduce
it to Adam and watch them kick the crap out of each other.
Adam. She had gone all out, and he had casually tossed her away like a rag
doll. If there were other things on his power level, how would she be able to
stop them? She knew the gang meant well, but they were a lot more likely to get
hurt, even killed. Only two people who could stand by her in a fight and not be
in as much danger: Angel and Faith. The former had left her, feeling they could
never truly be together. The latter? if she got her hands on her, Buffy wasn?t
sure what she would do. There were too many conflicting emotions there: pity,
concern, rage, as well as others that she couldn?t quite place.
Reaching the school grounds, the Slayer saw a hint of movement within the
shadows of the blackened building. Drawing out a sword and a pair of stakes,
she started to enter the crumbling edifice.
Some days, Buffy Summers hated her job.

<*> Angel?s Mansion <*>

In a bed once slept in by a vampire, Faith found herself curled into a fetal
position. Truly seeing what she had done to those around her ? Buffy, her
mother, her friends ? the rogue Slayer had gone berserk when she came face to
face with her corporeal form. She hated what she had done; the dark thing she
had allowed herself to become. Angel?s old stomping grounds were perfect for
her right now ? no mirrors. Nothing to remind her of the life she had lived; of
what she had done; of where she had come from; of the people who had hurt her;
of the people who had reached out to help, and her response of delivering them
pain and suffering.
The raven-haired girl buried her face in a pillow on the bed, and started to
cry. One person had believed in her, and she had let her down by attacking
without thinking, causing the death of Mayor Wilkins? assisstant. That day had
gone so well up until that point. Buffy was finally starting to understand why
the concept of ?Want? take? have.? had been a part of the taller Slayer?s life.
Later, the Bostonian had planned on trying to show her what Buffy meant to her.
A friend. A companion. Someone who could understand the adrenaline rush
from dusting a vamp and from the fear that this night could be your last.
Someone who could understand the physical and emotional strain put on your body,
knowing the closer you got to people, the more likely they were to die, leaving
you alone. Someone who could understand the longing for?
The ground shook violently, and a flash filled the sky from the direction of
the high school, reflecting off the single tear rolling down her right cheek.
Faith disregarded it, and felt? something, shifting in the wind, though she
wasn?t sure what. Demon? Hopefully. She needed to fight, to get some of
these? emotions and thoughts sorted out. She needed to fight something evil; to
stop whatever it was planning to do. Because whatever it had in mind, Faith
knew the reason she was supposed to stop it.
?Because it?s wrong.?

<*> Ruins of Sunnydale High School <*>

?Ow.? Uriel hurt. Correction: he was currently in a large amount of pain.
Had he landed on the floor, it might not have been as bad. Unfortunately, he
had impacted, back first, into one of the few still-standing walls. He was
beginning to remove himself when his faithful backpack finished its own descent,
hitting him square in the chest. Uriel was quickly knocked back through the
wall and into, of all places, the girls? shower room.
?Cute. Well, at least this one was empty. Malaika, if you can hear me,
start running, because when I get my hands on you...?
?What are you supposed to be? A Birkenstock Vampire??
Uriel cursed himself silently. Most times, he would arrive, complete his
assignment and be gone before the second time his arrival was questioned. Every
time Malaika got involved, someone or several someones, usually female and often
in a bad mood, would just happen to be nearby. He looked to the sound of the
voice, barely making out her figure since his eyes refused to focus. Whether it
was from the impact, the alcohol, the darkness, or a combination of all three,
there was no certainty. He heard her sniffing the air, though unsure why.
?Not a demon, not a vampire? not exactly human, either? Well? Are you going
to answer me, or are you just going to lay there while I beat you senseless??
She had shoulder-length blonde hair, that much was currently discernable. Maybe
around five foot four, but beyond that, things were still too unclear in the dim
light.
?Seeing as I am already partially out of my wits, girl, the most you could do
would be to beat me the rest of the way to ?senseless.? So if you would?? He
could hear a feral growl, and knew this was not one of the people he was sent to
assist.
?I think I will, actually. Always did prefer a slow meal.? The blonde?s
features shifted to a vampiric countenance, then quickly changed to shock and
surprise. Her skin, muscle, and other tissue turned to dust, collapsing in a
heap at his feet. His vision was coming into slightly better focus, and he
could see another blonde standing behind where the vampire had just been.
?I knew there was a reason I hated California.? Uriel struggled to his feet,
as the other girl stood watching him, keeping both a wary eye and a defensive
posture.
?Too many vampires??
?No. Too many blondes, though I always enjoyed that line from The Lost
Boys.? He grinned at the joke, then grabbed his head as the alcohol began to
purge itself from his system.
?Headache??
?No, starting to sober up.? Uriel took a pair of deep breaths, closed his
eyes, and began to center himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he focused
inwardly, regaining his personal balance, and slowly exhaled. Opening his eyes,
he could clearly see the face of the young woman in front of him now. It was
the same as the photograph on the first file he had been given for this case.
?Would you happen to be Elizabeth Anne Summers??
Buffy brought the sword up level and took a pair of steps back, not sure
where this was going. Most apparently unusual people looking for her by name
were often killers hired by various people. She still had some flashbacks from
Slayerfest, though she usually laughed when she pictured Cordelia staring down
that vampire. ?Who wants to know??
?That is unimportant right now.?
?Considering most people who come here looking for me have tried to kill me,
I find it to be kind of important.?
?Look, I can tell you my name later, including my life history.? Uriel
paused for a moment, reflecting on what he had said. ?Forget the life history.
If I start in on that, we might not be able to stop it in time.?
?Stop what??
?I am uncertain.?
?Okay, let me explain the situation.? She took a step closer, bringing the
sword into a defensive, ready position. ?I?m Buffy. No one calls me
?Elizabeth,? not even my mother. I have a sword, and I know how to use it.?
Uriel was somewhat still pissed for the stunt Malaika had pulled, and reached
into his duster with his right hand, drawing out a polished Roman gladius. He
swung forward, snapping the blade Elizabeth held with ease, and replaced his
sword in a single motion. The look of incredulousness on her face would have
been quite amusing under other circumstances.
?Okay, I had a sword.? She dropped the broken weapon and hopped forward,
delivering a kick into the tall man?s ribcage. He fell back through the hole,
tumbling on the tile in the shower room. Rolling with the impact, he stopped
himself with his feet, settling into a crouch. He watched as the Slayer came
forward, maintaining a fighting stance as she stepped through the wall. ?Good
to know I have other options, though.?
Standing up, Uriel brushed a healthy amount of dirt he had collected from the
floor, ignoring her posture. ?Listen, I am not here to fight you.?
?Funny, most people who want to just talk don?t carry swords on them.?
?Uh-huh. Who leveled a weapon at whom first??
Buffy had to concede that point, and she knew Giles was not going to be happy
about having to replace one of his blades. ?You didn?t have to destroy it, you
know.?
?Yeah, much better idea to wait for you to try and shove it in my ribs. That
would have been much more productive.? Uriel was starting to see why this
particular Slayer had so much potential: witty, confrontational, but focused.
The profile didn?t do her proper justice. ?Now, can we talk??
?You expect me to talk after you broke Giles? sword??
Uriel let out an audible sigh. Need to add ?stubborn? to that list, as
well. ?What would you have preferred I do??
?Should have let her stab you. She?s already had some practice.?
Expecting a response from Buffy, Uriel was caught off-guard by the voice
coming from behind her. The blonde Slayer turned to face the source, already
knowing who it would be.
?Faith.?
?Heya, B. What?s the what??
Buffy knew something was wrong. The words were right, but Faith?s voice
lacked the cockiness and false self-confidence normally carried in the
undertones. Even from five yards away, Buffy could see the sunken, haunted eyes
staring back at her. It didn?t matter, though. Faith had violated her, and
Buffy was bound and determined to make her suffer for it.
Uriel could feel the tension between the two Slayers, and suddenly he
wondered what sick joke was being played on him that he had managed to draw this
assignment. His fear abated somewhat, as he saw Buffy ease up on her stance
slightly.
?How? dare you?? Buffy had been fighting a number of conflicting emotions,
but it seemed as though rage had won. ?You threaten my mother, take over my
body, sleep with my boyfriend, and then tried to kill me. Again!?
?B, listen??
?No. No listening. No talking. Do you understand, Faith? No more.?
Uriel stood there, wondering how to prevent the Slayers from going all out
while utterly ignoring his presence. He did the first thing that came to mind.
He cleared his throat. The stares coming his way unnerved him somewhat: one
filled with anger, one laced with resignation.
?Ladies. Now is not the time for this.?
?What gives you the right to fall out of the sky and then tell me where I can
or can?t fight??
Not backing off, Uriel looked down into the face of the blonde Slayer. ?I
may be mistaken, but this building gives me the impression that it could come
crashing down on all our heads at any moment. Revenge is meaningles if it kills
you in the process.? He watched as her face relaxed slightly, which hopefully
meant that she was giving some thought to his statement. Faith, on the other
hand, didn?t seem to care.
?Sounds fine to me. C?mon, B, why don?t you finish what you started with my
knife.? So saying, Faith leapt to the attack. Uriel moved forward with a speed
that surprised both Chosen, shoving Buffy out of the way and absorbing the
attack meant for her.
?What business of yours is this, anyway?? Faith had tackled the tall,
vampiric-looking guy and began repeatedly punching him in the face. ?This is
between the good and evil Slayers. She?s supposed to fight evil. What right do
you have?? After landing roughly a dozen blows, Uriel caught both her hands in
his own, halting her fury.
?That will be quite enough of that.?
Faith attempted to look him in the eyes, instead finding his sunglasses. He,
however, could see into her brown eyes, past the rage to the self-loathing. He
saw her need to end the cycle of darkness and was about to peer further when
Faith brought her feet up, kicking off of his chest into a backflip. The sudden
jarring caused him to lose hold of her hands. He watched as she landed
gracefully on her feet, arms curled to strike.
?Another time, B. Just you and me.? Faith turned to run out the door to the
locker room, but the blonde was quicker, ensnaring her wrist. Buffy pulled,
spinning the Bostonian around. The shift in direction did not lessen Faith?s
momentum, causing the Slayers to collide. Both fell towards the floor, and the
ringing sound of a head impacting against an exposed water pipe echoed off the
charred walls. Uriel caught the eyes of the older Chosen flutter, then close.
Faith, atop the dazed form of her rival, looked down with remorse and a touch of
anger. She would have to wait for this to end.
The tall stranger watched as Faith rose to her feet, the began to walk
towards the shower room doorway. She spared a last look at Buffy before turning
her gaze to him.
?You?re? you?re not human, are you??
?No.?
Faith cracked the knuckles on both of her hands, taking a tentative step
towards Uriel. ?So I guess that means you and I are gonna throw down, huh??
?No. We need to talk.?
?Why? Is there someone you need me to kill?? She stood next to B?s prone
form, her arms crossed over her chest.
?In a sense.?
?Who? Do I know them??
?Somewhat, though not as well as you might think.?
?So who is it??
?You.?

<*> <*>

As I said, some changes, though not many. Cleaned up some character
inconsistencies I had in mind originally and re-worked some of the non-dialogue
to reflect POV more accurately. C&C welcome as always, even the less pleasant
stuff. Oh, they'll be a challenge at the end of Ch V... plot drawer will be
open again for those who know musical references.