Angel maneuvered the convertible through the streets of LA with smooth precision, noting the changes that had occurred in his city over the past few years. A gas station gone, replaced by an auto parts store…a new fast food restaurant, a bookstore that had closed and was now a coffee shop. It was difficult to make out everything through the heavily tinted windows of the car but it was obvious that life hadn’t stopped despite his loss of memory. Not that he’d expected it to… It was just a lot to grasp and the littlest details only added to the weight.
Buffy sat in the passenger seat, munching on the cheeseburger he’d shoved in his pocket for her as they left the hotel. She was quiet, lost in her thoughts or at a loss for words, he didn’t know. He was dying to ask her questions, a million things were running through his head, but where to start? Somehow, “So…sum up your life, and important events of the past three years,” didn’t seem like it was going to cut it. So much had changed in the past few years, he gathered that just from the tidbits of conversation that afternoon, and it frustrated him to no end to not remember any of what his friends had discussed.
His own life was complicated enough--wrapping his mind around the concept of being a father, of having watched Darla die yet again, of having a life in Los Angeles now that involved more than Cordelia and Wesley and their fledgling business… Of knowing that even almost three years later he hadn’t been deemed worthy of shanshu and mortal life.
And then there were the changes in the four people who had shown up on his doorstep just a few hours earlier. Changes that even had he been with full memory would have occurred without him. The thought disturbed him more than he liked. Thanks in large part to Cordelia’s gossip gene he’d overheard details and tidbits of life in Sunnydale, some of it surprising, some of it not.
Xander Harris had apparently almost gotten married to Anya, who Angel vaguely remembered from the high school. Willow was a lesbian…although that didn’t surprise him nearly as much as Xander contemplating matrimony. Ever since her doppelganger had shown up in Sunnydale during her Senior year of high school, Angel had had the suspicion that Willow might be at least bi-sexual, based simply off the personality of her vampire-self. But it saddened him to think that she and Oz hadn’t been able to continue their relationship, and that her lover, a girl whose name he couldn’t remember, had died tragically sometime last spring.
Dawn was so much older than he remembered. She’d grown like a weed while he’d been gone, and rather than the skinny little girl he’d left she was now on her way to womanhood, and reminding him painfully of how innocent Buffy had been when he’d met her. Of course, Buffy had had to grow up quickly, and even at the age of sixteen when he’d first come to know her, she’d had more knowledge of the adult world than any teenage girl should. Unlike Buffy, Dawn obviously liked school and adored her older sister, though she did her best to hide that.
And Buffy…Buffy was…still beautiful, still smart…still everything he remembered, but also a little that he didn’t. Gone was the naïve, schoolgirl charm she’d once possessed and replacing it was the hardened persona of a woman who’d loved and lost and battled for the sake of the world. The weight she carried was bound to take its toll on anyone, he was just sorry to see that it had happened to her so quickly.
A million questions sprang to mind that he wanted to ask but didn’t dare, questions about school, her life, love, slaying, her family… but the words wouldn’t come and so he sat in uncomfortable silence as they drove.
“How far is it?” she asked a moment later, breaking the silence.
“Not very…another few minutes.”
“Oh…good.”
“What’s the plan?”
She jerked a shoulder. “I want to see her, talk to her. Know she’s really okay, in the flesh. Maybe she’ll have an idea what’s going on. And I want to warn her…she might be in danger.”
He nodded as they turned onto the highway. “I didn’t know you still have prophetic dreams,” he mentioned casually. “Do you have them a lot?”
Buffy shook her head, flipping her hair over her left shoulder. “No, not really. I haven’t in a long while, anyway. These days it’s mostly just random patrol, random slayage.”
“Ah.”
Silence fell over the car again and she played with her fingers, folded in her lap. “So…Will says she thinks she came up with a way to restore your memory.”
“That’ll be good,” he said simply.
“Doesn’t seem to bother you that much,” she observed.
He glanced at her sideways. “You’re not looking hard enough, then.”
She stared at him briefly before turning her eyes away. “You look the same,” she offered then realized how stupid that sounded. “Not that you ever really age or anything…”
“Thanks,” he cut her off, and she blushed. And then before he could stop himself, “Is it always like this with us?”
She turned her head to look at him but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Like…what?”
He shrugged uncomfortably.
“Strained?” she asked with a small smile, and he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. We don’t see much of each other anymore. Or talk…really.”
“Oh…” he mumbled. “I guess…that’s what we decided.”
Her brow furrowed momentarily until she realized what he was referring to. “Oh…at Thanksgiving, the first year you were gone. Yeah…we did. But then I came to help you with Faith…and that worked out real well,” she joked.
“And after that? That’s the last time I remember seeing you, in your dorm hall.”
Buffy’s jaw set and she glanced out the window.
Angel felt her tense. “What?”
“You came back…about a year later. For a night,” she murmured.
“Oh. Demons?”
“No…” She took a breath and turned in her seat to face him better. She’d pushed past the pain of this long ago but she knew that his memory loss was bothering him, and that what she had to say would only upset him. But there was no avoiding it. “For a funeral.”
He looked over at her, eyes intense. “Who?”
She took a breath and swallowed. “My mom.”
There was total silence in the car and the air crackled around them. Buffy turned back in her seat to face forward. “Angel, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. You don’t remember, and I’m fine. Really.”
He couldn’t believe it, and though mortal death was certainly not something new to him this was more than a small shock. “Buffy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know--How…?” His jaw snapped shut and he ground his teeth. “What did this?”
“A brain tumor,” she assured him quickly. “An aneurysm, actually, caused by the brain tumor. Nothing demonic or…stoppable. It was quick. I—I found her, at home…tried to help, but it was too late. You came later, for the funeral, and stayed with me until morning.”
A brain tumor. Not a demon, not a monster. Nothing preventable. “I really am sorry,” he told her again, furious with himself and the spell for having brought up such painful memories for her once again. “Are you and Dawn okay?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “We are. I…I had to get a job,” she blushed, then chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly the things dreams are made of, but we’re doing okay.”
“Good.” He felt like a fool. “And your father? Is he helping you?”
She let out a wry laugh that surprised him with its bitterness. “Uh…big no. Dad didn't even come down to help out. We tried to track him down when mom…when it happened, but he was in Europe somewhere. I don’t even know if he’s back in LA.”
He closed his eyes, horrified at what the little Slayer had endured in the past few years. She staved off apocalypse night after night and yet it was the human side of things that hurt her more than anything else.
“But it’s okay. I had Giles…for a while anyway…before he went back to England…and golly gee doesn’t this just make me sound like the perfect candidate for Prozac?” she said brightly, pushing the past from her mind. “Really…it’s been tough…but we’re okay. I’m okay. You…get by, I guess.”
“I’m still sorry, Buffy,” he told her, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet hers, and she saw the compassion and the grief in them, all for her. “It’s never easy.”
She smiled and placed her hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
“So, was that the last time we talked, or should I be afraid to ask?” he joked a moment later.
She grinned. “No…it wasn’t. But that’s a story for another time.” They were turning into the prison parking lot and she really wasn’t prepared to get into her most recent death and resurrection. He parked the car in a shaded area near the door and grabbed a blanket from the back seat, wrapping it around him as best he could. They raced to the front door, ignoring the stares of others in the parking lot, and headed inside the prison.
Once through the necessary checkpoints they sat, waiting in the designated area until their names were called and a stern looking guard appeared. “Ms. Summers?” he asked, consulting his clipboard.
Buffy and Angel rose together. “Yes?”
“I’m afraid there’s a problem. The inmate you’ve requested to see…” he looked down a the paperwork once again, unsure of her name.
“Faith,” Buffy told him impatiently.
He looked back up at them warily. “Yes, Faith. I’m afraid she isn’t available for visitation today. She’s ill and in the medical ward at the moment, nothing serious, I’m sure, but even if that weren’t the case her record indicate that her visitation privileges have been revoked. They don’t begin again until after the first of the year. Perhaps the next time you want to visit you should call first, check her availability with the front desk.”
“Why?” Angel wanted to know. “Why doesn’t she have visitation?”
The guard shrugged. “Could be a number of reasons, none of which I can get into with you.”
“She’s in the medical ward? What did you do to her?” Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on. “I want to talk to her. I want to know she’s okay.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” the guard told her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He turned to go and Buffy stopped him with one hand on his arm. “Make it in the question. I’m not leaving here until I talk to her.”
The guard glanced angrily at her hand but she didn’t remove it. “We don’t want an altercation, miss, I advise you to take your hand off me,” he warned.
“I advise you to change your tone,” Angel countered, his voice low, and Buffy removed her hand though the anger didn’t leave her eyes. “What about phone calls? Can she make or receive phone calls?” he then asked.
The guard gave a heavy sigh and consulted the clipboard once again. “No, I’m afraid not. All privileges have been revoked. Now,” he sniffed. “That’s more information than you should be privy to. I suggest you go. The inmate will contact you, I’m sure, once she’s off probation.”
“I want to speak to someone else, someone in charge,” Buffy tried again angrily.
“Anyone else you speak to will tell you the same thing,” the guard told her. “Your friend had her privileges revoked, I’m sure you can determine what that means. The state correctional services aren’t in the habit of going back on a decision once a verdict has been reached. Your friend got herself into this, once her punishment has been carried out she’ll be free to call, write or visit with you.”
Buffy moved to say something but Angel placed a hand on her arm and she closed her mouth sullenly. “Fine,” she muttered, and spun on her heel. They exited the room with an angry slam of the door.
When they were gone the guard slipped quietly back to the office, watching the door to the outer room with uneasiness. Picking up the phone he punched in an extension. “She was here. She wasn’t alone. Name…” he held up the clipboard, which was blank save for two words. He read them now: “Buffy Summers.”
*~*~*
“I don’t like this,” Buffy complained as they drove back to the hotel. “Something’s very wrong. Faith’s a case, I know…but she can't have visitors or phone calls? Now, of all times?”
“I have a friend, on the police force. I’ll contact her, see if she can help us out,” he told her gruffly as they flew down the highway towards the hotel. He agreed, something wasn’t right.
“He said she’s in the medical ward. Do you think that’s just another lie? Or did they hurt her?” She took a breath. “Angel…what if I’m too late? What if she’s really dead?”
“We can’t know that until we look further. You said the girl in your last dream was in Canada, that couldn’t have been Faith.”
“Couldn’t it? The Council’s got something funny going on, we can’t find Faith…it could have been her, Angel. She could be in Canada, lying dead in a street somewhere. She tried to tell me, to warn me, to get me to help her, and I did nothing.”
“You’re doing something,” he insisted. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Buffy, we just need to try something else. Going to the prison was only the first step.”
She turned in her seat and stared out of the passenger window as they continued on. What seemed like an eternity later they pulled into the garage of the hotel and sprinted up the stairs to the main lobby.
“What happened?” Willow asked, the first to see them as they burst into the room. “I’m guessing you didn’t get to slip her a cake with a file in it,” she observed from Buffy’s stony expression.
“They wouldn’t let us see her, said she couldn’t have visitors or phone calls, that she’s in the medical ward,” Buffy sighed angrily, walking up to the counter and leaning on it, chewing her lower lip in thought.
“You don’t believe them?” Gunn asked.
“Do you trust the police?” she asked pointedly.
“Good point.”
“So now what?” Xander wanted to know.
Buffy thought for a moment, then rattled off instructions. “Angel, call your friend on the force and find out whatever you can. I want to know if she’s really still there or if it’s just another tactic to throw me off the trail. Dawn, call Giles, let him know what we found out and see if he’s discovered anything else since we’ve been gone.”
Dawn nodded, wide-eyed, and Buffy turned to Willow. “Where are we with the magic spell?”
“It’s ready to go but we’re having trouble locating one ingredient. Lorne’s looking for it now, he left right after you did.”
Buffy nodded and looked to Xander. “Did you get a hold of Anya?”
“Yeah…she’s not happy about it, but she’s taking the bus up here. I’m meeting her in a few hours,” he told her.
“Okay, then,” Buffy said, thinking quickly. “Willow, can you get on your lap top and try to access the prison files? I want to know schedules, routines…anything on Faith’s record while she’s been there, and most especially if there’s been anything unusual in the past few weeks.” Willow nodded and headed to the office.
“Wesley, did you find anything on where they might be holding Spike?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to five possible locations, apartments and hotels where the firm routinely houses their important out-of-town clients. We can start there,” he told her, handing her a list of names and addresses.
“Good. We’ll start with these. The rest of you are going to keep researching to find out what we can on Wolfram & Hart and the prophecies,” Buffy instructed in a tone that not even Cordelia argued with. She cast an eye to the door. “It won’t be dark for another few hours. But when it is, I want something to go on. I want to be out there.”
“Why don’t we go check out these places now?” Gunn wanted to know, indicating the paper in her hand.
She looked up at him, meeting his hard brown eyes with her steely green ones. “Because I need Angel. He knows these people, he knows this town and what to expect. And he won’t be any good if it’s sunny. If we need to escape quickly I don’t want us to have any disadvantages.”
She walked away, ending the discussion. Angel watched her from the office, phone in hand as he waited for someone to pick up.
*~*~*
Rain was falling steadily against the windows as Giles chewed on the stem of his glasses. He sat in the pew of King Edward Cathedral, waiting patiently, though his nerves were humming with anticipation and dread. Dawn and Buffy had little else to go on, but the fact that Faith wasn’t allowed contact with the outside world was enough to have him troubled.
Even more so than he was before.
The heavy wooden door to the church opened and he turned slightly to get a look at the newcomer. The church was dark, lit by dim overhead lights and candles, the scent of incense was heavy in the air. A figure stood, backlit against the bright lights of the outer hall, and shook off the rain from her coat and umbrella.
Giles relaxed a bit and faced forward again, waiting. A moment later he heard the soft swish of fabric as someone took a seat behind him.
“I thought I’d never get here. It’s really coming down,” Regina whispered, leaning over to set down her purse and pretend to rifle through it.
“Bad weather is usually a better cover,” he murmured in reply, eyes forward. “What did you discover?”
“That the moment I tapped into those reports a flag was sent out and I was immediately blocked. Of course, they sent out a message to the entire Council that there was a virus threat, but if you believe that…” she scoffed. He murmured his agreement and she continued. “So I took the long-route and started making phone calls.”
Giles tensed and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Relax…I went to different public phones around town, changing every call. We’re talking over a hundred girls, Rupert…and of the first seven only one of their Watcher’s were available. The others…including Yasmin Lochan, of Istanbul, Petra Schuster, of Hamburg, Olivia Brightmoon, White Sands, Olivia Arwin, Sydney…and Elise Harold…of…”
“London,” he finished, his voice barely registering.
From behind him, she nodded, her eyes grave. “Rupert…all of these girls, I tried to contact them all first. No one is available…everywhere I called I was told that they were out, no matter what time of day it was. No message could be left, they hung up before I could ask, if they bothered to answer the phone at all. No answering machines.” She picked up a prayer book and began to leaf through it absently as she spoke, looking as if she were murmuring prayers to anyone who might be watching. “Your Faith…she doesn’t have a Watcher, and I couldn’t get anywhere with the reformatory she’s being held in.”
“Neither could Buffy,” he told her. “She went there today, tried to see her, just talk to her. They told her that Faith is in the medical ward, that all privileges have been revoked.” He was beginning to have serious fear.
“I suspect that two inquiries about Faith in one day is giving panic to someone.” Regina frowned. “You know what this means, don’t you? You’ve figured it out, same as I have.”
He nodded as he stared ahead at a statue of the Mother Mary. “I fear I have,” he murmured. “I’ve got to get out of here, I have to warn Buffy, get to California. It’s not safe here.”
“I agree. But how? They’re probably watching us…whoever they are,” she whispered. She was afraid, to be sure, but you would never have known it from her voice.
“We’ll leave tonight. As soon as possible. We’ll go to your flat first, pack what you need, and quickly. I don’t trust Heathrow…they’ll be expecting that, but I don’t see another way.”
“Southampton?” she suggested, ignoring his presumption that she would be joining him.
He removed his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose as the door to the church opened with a bang. They both jumped and he shoved the glasses back onto his face, turning quickly to see who had entered. But the door had blown open of its own accord, due to the storm, and an altar boy struggled to shut it.
“No…” Giles told her softly, eyes darting around quickly. “We don’t have the time. We’ll take indirect flights, but together. I don’t want us separated for any reason.” His serious gaze fell on her. “Regina, you may be in tremendous danger. Staying here won’t be safe, but travelling to California very well won’t be, either.”
She tilted her head and gave him a wry smile. “Rupert…if you think for one moment I’m going to let you go off on this adventure and leave me behind, you’re delusional. Besides…I’ll feel safer with the Slayer, as odd as that sounds right now.”
He smiled gently. “You’ll feel better once you’ve met her…seen her in action. Buffy is…phenomenal.”
“I have no doubt of it. You were, after all, her Watcher,” she smiled back.
He glanced around then. “We need to get going, then,” he murmured gratefully, and stood. A moment later she followed suit and they headed out into the rain, and who knew what else.
