Title: Keeping the Balance
Author: Phoenixflame
Rating: PG-13, light F/F situations, the occasional swearing
Summary: After Death in the Balance, our friends in Sunnydale are left to
pick up the pieces. Then Faith arrives in town...
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Angel. Otherwise, I'd
probably be even more cruel than Joss.



The weather was cold and rainy. Silent mourners filled the cemetary, laying
roses on the casket as they passed.

A flash of red hair near the coffin could be seen. It was Willow, standing 
beside Tara. Her face was pale, and composed now. But scant hours ago, she
had wept all her tears out. Her red eyes bore witness to that.

Tweed. Somehow it seemed appropriate for Rupert Giles to wear tweed to her
funeral. His face was grave, and beneath the surface one could see the
stirrings of Ripper. His heart demanded revenge for his daughter. Revenge
that he could never have.

The angry silent form of Riley Finn, staring down at the coffin, all but
glaring at it. He hadn't been there, and he blamed Buffy for it. For not
being there when she died. For never really loving him. He blamed her, even 
as he mourned her.  A pink rose dropped from his hand, onto the surface of 
the casket. It soon became sodden with the rain, a pathetic-looking 
offering.

Xander Harris looked unusually cold and set apart. The usually warm and
friendly young man was stiff with sorrow, and with an angry sense of failure.
Her White Knight believed he had failed her, and no one would be able to
convince him otherwise.

Joyce Summers. She stood well away from the Buffy's friends, glaring at them
with hatred in her eyes. She blamed them, blamed them all for the loss of
her daughter. If it had been her choice, she would have banned them from
the funeral. But it wasn't her choice, so she stood there, an angry statue,
impotent with rage.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

Sun slanted down through the clouds, striking the casket. Angel, watching
from a nearby mausoleum, turned away, face anguished. His shoulders set,
he descended from the mausoleum into the sewers, away from the funeral

Watching from the door of a crematorium, a slim blonde woman fought to hold
back tears. Finally, she too slipped away, into the sunlight. 


                                     ***


Tara entered her apartment, and shut the door quietly behind her. Looking
into the other room, she slowly walked through her apartment. 

Willow sat in front of the window by the bed they shared, her legs curled
under herself. The red curtains by the window were brushed aside, letting
what meager light the sun gave off filter through. Outside and inside, the
constant falling rain sounded out, a roar, drums, or perhaps when the wind
blew, wailing like voices, like screams. 

"Willow?" Tara's whisper could barely be heard. Miss Kitty heard though, 
and leapt up from Willow's lap to go running to Tara. Willow looked up as
the kitten left her lap. Her face was sad, calm, and frustrated. Tara 
swallowed. "Willow?" she repeated, a bit louder.

"Hi Tara." Willow looked back out at the falling rain. One hand went up to
brush back a lock of hair that had fallen forwards over her face.

"Are you..." Tara's voice faltered, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"I'm fine."

*Sure you are.* Tara thought. Walking over to Willow, she sat down beside
her. "Please, won't you talk to me?" she entreated softly.

"What's to talk about?" Willow's voice was bitter all of a sudden. "Buffy's
gone. Everything that held the world together is coming apart, and we can't
do anything about it. What's the point of hunting vampires and demons. We're 
all going to die anyway..." 

"But... But..." Tara stammered, then straightened, willing strength into
her words. "Willow, you can't give up."

"Can't I?" Her voice was shrill. "We don't have a Slayer to protect us
while we cast pretty little spells anymore. At best, we have a mercenary
vampire who'd betray us in a heartbeat! And we're sitting on the Mouth of
Hell!"

"We'll make it work." Tara tried to say, but Willow drowned her out, tears
beginning to stream down her pale face.

"We can't! We're just sitting here, waiting for the chopping block! We can't
win against demons, we can't..." Willow trailed off as Tara grabbed her and
hugged her. The two clung to each other desperately.

"We'll find a way." Tara rocked Willow back and forth. "We'll make it work."


                                      ***

His eyes focused blearily on the bottle in front of him. Picking it up, he 
poured it unsteadily into the shotglass. His hand wavered unsteadily as
he poured, and liqour splashed onto the table, pooling in the dent marks.
Picking up the glass, he chugged it, then dropped it. A piece of the side
broke off, and it rolled across the floor. 

He moaned in denial, and reached for the bottle. A hand grabbed his wrist,
though, stopping his movement. Xander grunted in protest. "Lemme go."

"No." Anya grabbed the bottle. "You've had enough. You stink, and you 
haven't left this room since you got home."

"Good. Don't wanna." He laid his head down on the table. "Gimme the booze."

"Why?" demanded Anya, her voice shrill. "So you can go upstairs and join
your family?" Xander flinched. "Well?" When he didn't respond, Anya crossed
her arms. "I didn't think so. Come on. We're leaving."

"Don't wanna!" slurred Xander, leaping for the bottle. Anya sidestepped him
easily, and set the bottle down out of his reach. Grabbing his wrists, she
hugged him tightly.

A low sob edged its way between his lips. "Wanna forget...." he sobbed. "Why
can't you just let me die?"

"Sssshhh." Anya rocked him back and forth as he sobbed on her shoulder. "It's
going to be all right. You'll see."

"I loved her Anya. God, I loved her." sobbed Xander.

Anya swallowed the irrational jealousy. "I know." she said kindly. "But she
wouldn't want this. Come on." She began to move slowly. "We're getting out
of here, alright? We're going back home."

Nodding dumbly, Xander moved with Anya, and they left the Harris house
forever.

                                        ***

All of Giles's drinking was done with. Instead, he stood at the front window
of his house, looking past the bars to the rain outside. His clothes were
rumpled, and there was still stubble on his chin. He'd forgotten to shave
that morning. 

*How fitting.* he thought, lips quirking ever so slightly into a bitter
smile. *That she would be buried on a day like this...* He lifted his hand
in salute. *Farewell...*

He remained there as the sky darkned. Then, some time after sunset, a knock
came to the door. Without turning, he called "Come in."

The door opened, then shut. Silence reigned in the apartment, and finally,
Giles said "Well?"

"What?" Angel's voice was tired, and ragged. The faintest hint of a snarl
was in it.

"You're going back to Los Angeles?" Giles said, disapproval heavy in his 
voice, as well as the implied 'You're abandoning us?'

"What other chance is there?" Angel snapped. "There's nothing for me here
now, Giles. Nothing."

"The world will fall without a protector on the Hellmouth." Giles said
impatiently. "You know that."

"There's going to be a protector. I owe B that."

Giles whipped around, and stared. 

Faith stood next to Angel, her arms hanging at her sides. She looked 
suprisingly vulnerable with jeans and a t-shirt, and her face scrubbed clean
of make-up. "I'm staying this time." she said, her voice clear, and her eyes
quietly determined. 

                                      ***

In the sewers, a demon stirred. One eye had been replaced by some sort of
infra-red device. Its chest was a single metal plate, covering circuitry 
that had been implanted in it. Its arms were enhanced with steel and false
plastic and rubber veins. It was more robot than demon.

But its programming had been damaged in the explosion. Now it was a demon.
And it would hunt.

                                      ***

"My head." groaned Xander, then he winced. His whisper sounded like a shout
to his aching head. He whimpered.

"Maybe that will teach you not to drink." Anya's frosty voice informed him.
"Elder Gods, how much did you drink? I'm surprised you were coherent."

"Four or five."

"Drinks?"

"Bottles."

Anya said something in a foreign language that sounded vaguely like Latin,
from what Xander could tell anyway. "Go back to sleep Xander."

"Okay." Xander said all too eagerly.

                                      ***

Faith stood at the entrance to the mansion. "You're sure?" she said 
uncertainly.

"You need some place to stay." Angel pointed out. "This place is as good
as any. I've put it in your name, but all bills will be paid by me."

"When did you get so loaded?" Faith wondered, wandering farther into the 
foyer of the mansion.

Angel laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. "I sold off a lot of my
stuff when I came to Sunnydale. It went towards paying for a warehouse I
own down near the waterfront. My old apartment is there. What I had left,
I put into an account."

"How valuable was some of that stuff?" wondered Faith.

"Valuable enough." Angel's voice brooked no more prodding. Faith sighed. "So,
you're giving this whole place to me? Just like that?"

"Just like that." Reaching into his pocket, Angel pulled out a square of
plastic. "My accountant will be paying all bills from this card. It's yours.
Use it, and refurbish this place." Turning, he headed for the door. "The
gas, electricity, and water should be turned on tomorrow."

Faith swallowed. "Thank you." she said honestly. 

"You deserve it." Angel said. "Good luck, Faith."

"Good luck, Angel." As Faith turned around, the door slammed shut. She
exhaled. 

"Damn."

                                      ***

The first thing on Faith's mind was a place to stay until the mansion was
habitable. So she christened her new credit card by buying a night at 
Sunnydale's most expensive hotel. 

Opening the bathroom door, she wandered out, and flopped down on the bed.
Her wet hair was bound up in an expensive terry towel, and her trim, 
muscular body was wrapped in a white bath robe of the same material.

Smiling dreamily, Faith commented "This is the life." Reaching for the 
remote, she flipped the TV on.

"And in tonights news, a man was found dead. It appears that some sort of
wild beast attacked him while he was driving home late last night. Police
are still puzzled by the knife wounds on his body, however."

Faith frowned. "Damn."

                                      ***

The road leading up to Makeout Point wound around a hill, up to the flat
top. Trees shadowed the road, and caves dotted the hills. There was an old
abandoned mineshaft somewhere along the way as well. It had been a tourist
spot until a mysterious cave-in had closed part of it down. Not wanting any
problems, the city council had shut the mineshaft down. In typical Sunnydale
fashion, it had been left open.

That was where Faith was beginning her hunt.

Turning the flashlight on, Faith tightened her grip on her knife. It was
the same one that had seen her through so many situations. Replacing it in
the sheath on her belt, she headed down the right hand tunnel.

There was scuffing along the ground. Kneeling down, Faith inspected it, a
faint frown on her face. "What...?" Then she heard it. A low murmur. Sounded
like a... spell. She hit the dirt.

A rock that had been heated up by the speed it had been spinning at impacted
the wall of the cave. Had Faith not ducked, it would have taken off her head.
As it was, the rock was embedded in the wall of the cave. She swore, and
whirled around, one hand on the hilt of her knife. Then she dropped it. 
"Damn, Red, why'd you do that?"

"You're the one that killed that man!" Willow spat. "Monster!" Her eyes were
red from prolonged crying. Her girlfriend, the blonde from the club, stood
beside her.

"What!?" Faith stared at Willow. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm here 
hunting for this thing too!"

"Like I'm going to believe that!" Another rock sped by Faith as she ducked.
Fortunately, it was going slower.

"She's telling the truth." the blonde said suddenly. "She didn't kill the 
man."

"She's still dangerous." Willow insisted. "We can't just leave!"

Faith threw her hair back. It was still damp, and now dust was smeared
through it. "Look, go talk to Giles. I don't have time for this crap. If I
wanted to kill you by now, I would have."  Turning, she began to walk out of
the mineshaft. "Whatever killed that man isn't here now, but it could be back
later. I suggest you leave the killing to me, and go find out what the hell
killed that man so I can take it down. Before it kills again."

Stalking out of the cave, she left Willow and Tara to stare after her.

                                   ***

Giles was startled out of his reading by somebody pounding on the door 
fiercly. Getting up, he opened it. Willow barged in, followed by a nervous
Tara.

"Did you know that Faith was back?" demanded the redhead.

Sitting back down, he blinked at her. "Errr, yes. Angel brought her back
sometime this afternoon."

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Oh, bloody hell." Giles took off his glasses, and glared right back at
the furious witch. "I did try to call, but you weren't answering the phone!"

"Oh." Willow calmed down a bit, and plopped down in an armchair. "Why are
you letting Faith back into Sunnydale, after all she's done?" she spat.

"Angel brought her back." Giles replied.

"Angel? He should know better! She tried to get rid of his soul, Giles!"
Willow looked upset. "And you didn't even argue with him?"

"And how, may I ask you, should I have argued?" Giles stood up and started 
puttering around the apartment, arranging books and whatnot. "They weren't
asking my permission, they were telling me."

"But... But.."

"Oh, bloody hell." Willow looked up in surprise. "Go home."

"But..."

"Now, Willow. We'll talk later. Now will you please leave?" 

The redhead scowled, and stood, moving towards the door. She stopped, then
turned and said "If she puts one foot out of line, Giles, just one..."

"Out." Giles pointed his finger at the door. "Leave it be, Willow."

She turned and stormed out of the door, still angry. Giles put his glasses
back on, and went to fix a cup of tea. Once he was done, he poured himself 
a cup and went to sit down. Picking "The Pirates of Penance" off
of one of the shelves, he chose one of the overstuffed chairs, and sat down
to read.

"Hi Giles." 

The Watcher put down his teacup on thin air. It obeyed the laws of nature,
and didn't stay there.

Faith stared at the broken tea cup on the ground, then looked up at Giles
with one eyebrow cocked. "Was it something I said?"

"Uh... No." Giles got up to seek a mop and a bucket. "Do wait here a minute,
will you?"

With a sigh, Faith sat down on one of the stools near the kitchen counter.
*What did you expect?* she thought bitterly. *That he'll accept you back
with open arms? You're a pschyopath.*

*Shut up.* she told herself, and managed to keep her expression lazily
amused.

"So, err, well then. Did you find anything?" Giles asked lamely.

"Yeah. A witch with an attitude problem. You tell her to stay out of my 
hair, okay? I've got enough crap coming down the pipes as it is."

"Uh... right."

"Good. Now that we've got that straightened out, I'm gone. Try not to
break any more stuff while I'm gone." With that, the dark haired 
Slayer was gone.

Giles just blinked.

                                   ***

The streets of Sunnydale were deserted of both people and demons. To
the Slayer, it seemed an aweful lot like one of the old crappy
westerns she'd seen on TV.

She halted as she rounded the corner. Staggering down the street was
Buffy's former boyfriend. Riley.

*Just be cool. Walk on by. Hope he doesn't recognize you, drunk as he
is.* Faith took a deep breath, and kept walking.

"Hey, I know you." slurred Riley, aiming a finger in Faith's general 
direction. "You're Faith."

The dark haired Slayer backed away from him warily. "Yeah..." she said
uncomfortably. She remembered him. He'd said.

"Hey Killer. How's it going?" Riley asked, then bent over, laughing. He
ended up on the curb, laughing like it was all a big joke. "Hi Killer. 
Killer. Did you kill Buffy too?"

"Shut up." Faith felt anger building inside of her. Anger, guilt, and the
strong desire to wipe the floor with Riley.

"Killer." The former commando laughed. "Killer." he mocked. "Killed Buffy
too, huh?"

*I won't attack him. I won't.* Faith glared at him fiercly. "No." she said,
relieved that at least her voice was mostly steady.

Riley moved with a speed that seemed incongruous with his state of 
inebriation, and leapt up, grabbing Faith's arms. She gripped his arms
as he leered at her. "Haven't had a Slayer for a long time... Gone... 
Gone..."

With a cry of anger and revulsion, Faith threw him away from her, punching
him hard. He hit a lampost and crumpled. The Slayer stared at him for a
moment. Then she turned and fled.

                                       ***

It took a long time for Faith to vent her frustrations on the vampires she
found on the way back to the hotel. When she stalked through the doors, 
she was tired, tense, and full of unvented frustration she intended to 
vent in the excercise room.

"Excuse me, Miss Summers?"

Faith almost didn't answer to the name, then she remembered. Summers. The
name she'd chosen for her new identity. "Yeah?" she said, nearly baring her
teeth at the bellhop.

Evidently he saw something in her eyes that he didn't like. However, the 
Slayer didn't particularly care. "The... The manager wants to see you." He
gulped.

"Is it important?" demanded Faith.

The bellhop was quaking in his shoes. "Y...Yes." He yelped as Faith lunged
forwards, into a jog right past him. She smiled grimly. He'd thought that
she was going to attack him. 

She didn't blame him.

Storming into the manager's office, she sat down. It was a rather plush 
office, very standardly yuppy. Good view of the destroyed high school. 
Lovely red wood desk. Not so lovely manager.

Seating herself in one of the nice big cushy chairs in front of the desk,
Faith leaned back, and studied the manager. Definate weasel material. A
wary feeling seeped into her frazzled brain.

"Ms. Summers," began the manager. Faith groaned inwardly. This particular
weasel was going to be trouble. The way he said her name was contemptuous,
faintly mocking, and above himself. "I have heard that you were a former
employee of the Mayor. Is that true?"

Cold rage seeped into the Slayer's veins, and she fought the impulse to
leap across the desk and stab him with one of his fancy letter openers. "It
is." she replied coldly.

"Very good. Now in his absence, I have taken upon myself to run... Business
deals as it were. Former employees of our... esteemed Mayor will be asked
to pay a small fee. Not much."

Faith gripped the armrests of her chair. "You mean you want more money, or
you're kicking me out." she said flatly.

"If you want to put it so simply, yes."

Smiling a lazy, dangerous grin, Faith leaned forwards in her chair. "Well,
what if I tell you to screw yourself?" she asked pleasantly, her eyes 
gleaming dangerously.

"Then we'll be forced to take... Compensation."

Two vampires with game faces on moved past Faith to flank the manager. She
shook her head. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me." the Slayer said
mockingly. "People can be so stupid. Forget your payment, asshole."

The vampires lunged forwards.

Sighing, Faith didn't even bother to get up for the first one. A stake
from inside her jacket dealt with it. The second one she slammed onto the
desk, catching its arm in midair. His eyes wide, the manager backed away
to tremble against the wall. 

Finishing her job, the Slayer straightened, and stalked around the desk.
Grabbing the mans collar, she slammed his face against the desk. "That was
really stupid." she told him in a conversational voice. "You know, you
didn't even bother to ask what job I did for the Mayor."

The manager was whimpering by now. Good.

"I was his right hand." she hissed in his ear. "The Slayer."

He yelped.

"I think, unless you happen to be a very stupid man, you're going to open
that lovely little safe over there..." Faith pointed her stake at a 
wood panel. It was far too obvious as a hiding place "...And give me back
the money I spent on this lame-ass hotel."

"I can't do that!"

*slam* The man moaned. Faith raised his face from the surface of his desk,
and shook him by the scruff of his neck. His nose was dripping blood. "Pay
up."

"No!" wailed the man.

*slam* His desk went flying against one of the walls. He followed it. 
She stalked over to him, and picked him up. Pinning him against one 
of the walls, she spoke to him calmly as he squirmed.

"I have had a really shitty night. And now this comes along. Tell me, Mr.
Manager, do you know what a Slayer really is?"

He whimpered again.

"We're demons." the Slayer whispered in his ear, voice purring. "We're one, 
and we are legion. We can't die, you idiot." He was going to black out 
soon. She dropped him. "You're going to give me my money. And then I'm 
going to call the police. You're going to say that a gang attacked you,
and you're not going to say anything else about it. If you're smart, you'll
tell the staff to do the same. Understand?"

"Yes!" The man dragged himself up, and stumbled over to the safe. Opening
it, he thrust a large wad of hundred dollar bills at Faith. Probably a heck
of a lot more than she had paid.

"Good. I'm glad we have an understanding." She turned to go. "Oh, and by
the way?" She looked over her shoulder, grinning wickedly. "I'll be 
watching." Laughing, she left the office, and the hotel.

                                       ***

Crawford was cold, and bleak. Faith lit a fire in one of the third floor
rooms, and sat down near it, shivering. *I could have killed him.* she
thought, rubbing her arms. The heat finally got to her, thawing out the
numb feeling she had aqquired on her way from the hotel to the mansion. *But
I didn't.*

Feeling oddly triumpant, she rose from beside the fire, and crossed the
room. Sitting down on the wide windowsill of the window, she looked out
over Sunnydale, then up. Her breath caught involuntarily in her throat.

The moon hung above her, huge and orange. Its features were so clear, so
distinct... She sighed in appreciation, and leaned back, bracing her legs
against the side of the window opposite her.

She almost missed the scrape of boot on the stone floor.

Looking back, she let her eyes focus as the man came into view. Then she
relaxed. "You can put down the tranq gun, Giles, I'm not going to attack
you."

"Is that so?" Giles sounded like he didn't believe her. Faith massaged her
temples, then brushed her hair back behind her. It had grown long in prison,
and she'd decided to let it continue growing down to her waist. It was
almost there.

"Look, I could have killed you before if I wanted to." She looked back out
at Sunnydale.

"Anya found Riley unconcious and beaten over on Third. When she managed to
wake him up and get a bit of sense out of him, he said he remembered you
attacking him." Giles paused, then went on in a severe tone. "And when I
checked at your hotel, the manager was being taken away to the hospital for
broken ribs, and a bruised larynx. The medics suspected hairline fractures
as well."

"It's not what you think." the Slayer looked straight at him, her dark eyes
piercing his, angry, bitter, stubborn. "Riley was drunk, and thought I'd be
an easy lay, that I'd play B. No way in hell was I going to go along with
that."

"You do realize that its your word against his."

"*God* dammit, Giles!" Faith glared at him. "I'm telling the truth. I've
changed." She studied him, and somehow managed to chain her rage. "You 
don't believe me." she said. It wasn't a question.

"I've heard you sing this song before." Giles replied coldly. 

Faith felt numb again, all of a sudden. Then a cold anger filled her. Who
was he that she had to prove herself to him? "I don't care *what* you 
think." she told him flatly. "I don't care if you think I'm a violent, 
sadistic bitch. But you do *not* have the right to come into my home 
waving a puny gun at me..." She lunged forwards. He was unprepared, and
she easily snatched the gun from him. "I'm not going to be the perfect 
little Slayer. I'm not like that." She leaned over him, her voice low. "I
play by my own rules when it comes to Slaying. You don't like that, you
don't have to work with me. Simple as that, Giles. Make up your mind." She
smiled sweetly. "Why don't you call up my parole officer while you're at 
it and tell him I've been a bad little girl?" She pecked him on the cheek
impulsively, then backed away.

"My god. You're insane." Giles stated flatly, staring at her.

"Yeah, maybe I am. But it's a good night to be insane!" Faith threw the gun
away. Turning around, she stalked out of the room. "Let's get crazy!" she
yelled back. "Let's go *nuts*!" 

Giles was gone in under five minutes.

                                      ***

Feeling much cheered up, Faith dragged Angel's old and dusty bed out of
a first floor room, and up into another one of the third floor rooms. *I'm
getting a real love of the view from this place.* she decided, chucking
some logs into the fireplace. *And shocking people. I think I've found a
new way to vent...* She grinned wickedly, remembering the expression on
Giles's face. *Shouldn't do it too often, though. Red'll start messing
with magic, and that would suck.*

Yawning, she plopped down on the bed, her hands laced together under her
head. "This," she decided "Is the life."

                                      ***

Sometime later, during the morning, Willow exited a convenience store,
and started back towards Tara and her shared apartment. She was juggling
a paper bag on either arm, and fumbling with her car keys.

She was totally unprepared for what she saw when she turned a corner. 

The demon sat there, holding a half a rottweiler in its claws. It looked
up at her, grinning ferally.

Willow did the only sensible thing. She dropped her groceries, and fled.

                                      ***

It was shortly before sundown. Faith was walking through the bad part of
town, towards a particular bar that had recently tried to imitate a 
restaurant. Stopping at the door of the bar, she slammed it open, and
stalked into the interior.

The denizens of the bar, human and otherwise, moved into the shadows. The
bartender looked at her, and whimpered. It was not a good day to be Willie
the Snitch.

"Hey Willie, how's it hanging?" Faith asked, a malicious smile sliding 
onto her lips as she sat down at the bar.

Willie paled. "Uh, fine, just fine. Nice to see you again."

"Really." Faith pinned him with a stare. "As I recall, last time we met,
I was beating the crap out of you." She began to trace little circles on
the counter of the bar. "I just might feel inclined to repeat the 
treatment." She grinned at him evilly.

"Alright, alright, whaddya want to know?" Willie whimpered. Her relaxed
as the Slayer leaned back on her barstool, face now only set in a look of
interest.

"Information, Willie." Faith cocked her head and regarded him. "Something's
killing people, and has taken a chunk out of Sunnydale's pet population. I
want to know whatever it is you know, and fast."

"Me? I dunno anything about that." The snitch flinched as Faith leaned
forwards again. "I'm telling the truth!" he babbled, cowering back from
the bar. "All I know is that somethin's tearing up people and things. Ain't
my problem."

The Slayer studied him for a moment. Finally, she snorted, and got up 
from the barstool. "I figure out you're lying?" She bent forwards over the
bar, smiling lazily, and ignoring the stare he was directing at her
cleavage. "China won't be too far for me to follow you to." Turning, she
stalked out of the bar.

                                     ***

Someone was in the mansion when she returned. Drawing a stake out of a 
pocket, she faded into the shadows, moving silently. 

She found Giles waiting in what had once been a room near the chapel. The 
roof had been replaced by glass, and so had one wall. Two gardens were
planted in the center of the room. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, leaning against the doorway.

Giles jumped, giving her a bit of perverse satisfaction. "Willow saw the
demon today." he said quickly, watching her warily.

"And?" snapped Faith, stalking into the room. "Like I care. Do you know
where it is now?"

"No."

"Then get out. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." 

Removing his glasses, Giles favored Faith with a weary and irritated 
look. "The demon is a Cashata demon. They favor wet locations, preferably
with a bit of methane."

"Good." Faith considered the information. "Looks like I'm going sewer
diving. Seeya." Before Giles could say anything, she was gone, out into the
garden. 

"Oh, bloody..." Giles shook his head. "Should listen more... Going to 
get herself killed." he muttered.

                                     ***

Faith stalked through the pipes, flashlight in hand. "Here, demon, demon,
demon..." she called mockingly.

A low growl met her ears. Turning, Faith studied it. Horns, claws, 
scales. Standard demon fare, otherwise.

"Well?" she asked it. "What the hell are you waiting for, snakeskin?" She
waved a throwing axe at it. "I've got patrol after I kill your ugly butt."

It bared two fangs, and took her up on the offer.

Ten minutes later, Faith was leaning against one wall of the sewer, panting 
harshly. "Nice workout." she decided. "Not much of a problem, though. What
was old Tweedbutt worried about anyway?"

Her answer came in the form of one slim tentacle around the neck.

She gasped for air on pure reflex before remembering to conserve what air
she had left. In other words, not much. Using the axe, she sliced through
the tentacle, and tore the piece around her neck off. Throwing it on the
ground, she watched it squirm for a minute, then stepped on it. "Okay, that
was unpleasant, but nothing to call home about." she mused. Slicing the 
still seeking tentacle up into bits, she continued on. The tentacle was
anchored to a huge network of fungi, with other crumpled bits of tentacle
hanging off of it.

"Oh, great. How the hell am I supposed to kill a mushroom?" spat Faith,
brushing her hair back from her face. Now she remembered why she didn't
like long hair...

The fungi pulsed menacingly. Mushrooms on the surface of the mass dissolved
into slime and were absorbed by the rest of the huge fungus. Threads began
to grow out of the bottom, and slither across the ground towards her.

Then forms began to form out of the huge ball of fungi suspended in the
center of the network. Tentacles. Tentacles that ripped the fungus ball
apart. A familiar looking wooden box fell to the ground. Faith squinted
at it, then frowned when the tentacles flipped the lid open. "What the..."

Spiders swarmed out of the box.

"Shit!" Faith bent down, and scooped up several chunks of rock from the 
ground of the sewer. The first spiders out of the box were crushed into 
jelly. The rest swarmed over her.

For a minute, Faith felt them trying to crawl inside her, bite her, 
suck the life out of her. She rolled around, smashing some, but not 
enough. They just kept coming and coming...

"Ignis incende!"

With a roar, the spiders on Faith burst into flames. Then the voice
spoke again. "Ignis incende!"

Faith rolled over and to her feet, facing Willow and Giles. "Behind you."
she said. Both of them ducked, and the tentacles missed them. 

"Faith, catch!" Giles tossed her the sword he was carrying. 
 
"All right! Now this is more like it!" Faith sliced down the probing
tentacles with abandon. "Don't suppose you two know a mass ignition
spell?"

"That wouldn't work! Too much fungus! Ack!" Willow ducked a probing 
tentacle. 

"Our best chance is to get out of here." shouted Giles.

"Sounds good to me!" Faith chopped down some tentacles, and took the
opportunity to sprint away from the deadly fungi. Willow and Giles
followed her example. 

Five minutes later, the three stood in a large cave, out of range of
the fungus. "Great." the dark haired Slayer said. "Any brilliant
ideas on how to kill this thing?"

"We don't." the Watcher panted in reply, trying to catch his breath.
"The box was left there by us so the thing could guard it. There were
tripwire spells we set so that certain people and things would be
attacked if they crossed the barrier.

"And I'm one of those people."

"Of course."

"Oh, great. Now what do we do, smart guy?"

"Re-seal the barrier and hope the spiders get eaten by whatever other 
demons live in the sewers."

"Joy." Faith shrugged. "Your problem, not mine. The demon's dead, 
anyway. I've got bigger fish to fry. G'night!" She waved and 
headed off. Willow and Giles stared after her.

Willow was the first to regain her voice. "Ummm... what now?"

"We re-seal the tunnel. Or just place an aversion spell on it." Giles
said tiredly. "There's only one main tunnel that leads into this network.
Let's head back that way and cast the spell there."

They followed the way back to the entrace. Willow stopped and crouched down
at the side of the corpse. "Giles?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the right demon." Willow said. "This is a Ji'an, a rather 
low-ranked foot soldier. It's not a Cashata, and it doesn't have any 
implants."

"Which means that the killer is still on the loose." Giles said. "We'll
deal with this tomorrow, I suppose. Right now, we'd best seal up the
tunnel and get back inside."

"Right." Willow fished in her purse and got out a small leather bag. 
"Spirits of the Light, hear me and hark to my will..." she began to
chant.

                                   ***

Behind the Beta Gamma Omega frat house on the university campus, the
Cashata demon finished consuming a dog, and dropped the remains to the
ground. The implants blazed to life.

Stiffening, it marched across campus in a straight line towards the
wreckage of a burnt out building. Once it reached the ruins, it
began to dig.

Two hours later, it hauled the last piece of wreckage to the side,
exposing the corpse of Maggie Walsh. The wounds from the explosion
were gone, but a rapier was jammed through her stomach.

With a gasp, she inhaled, then winced and grabbed the rapier. Pulling
it out, she stayed huddled on the ground for a moment, then rose to
her feet, looking over the wreckage.

"No..." she wheezed, then fell to her knees.

                                   THE END