Understanding Character Motivation




Heathrow Airport
London, England
Wes POV

Whoever coined the phrase “Merry Ole England” obviously didn’t share any of my childhood memories. It’s been several years since I was in the mother country, but instead of feeling a sense of completion upon returning…all I feel is a strong sense of nausea. Of course, that could be as much from the immense quantities of alcohol that I consumed on the plane as from the rather intense dread of seeing my father again. And judging by the way Spike paced my drinking, I got the distinct impression that coming here is just as difficult for him as it is for me. Which, of course, begs the question of why exactly we’re here again.

I still don’t have a succinct answer to that one. It was just two weeks ago that Spike and Faith returned to our dimension with Connor in tow. Only a few days had passed when Spike announced that he’d had a dream in which Joyce Summers requested him to do something. The details were vague, as dreams often are, but I sensed that Spike was deliberately leaving out some detail of his dream. I don’t know what that might be and I’m loath to press the issue. I brought it up the first time we were alone and he just gave me an appraising stare and said he didn’t know what it meant yet, that it was personal, and that he would share when it became necessary to do so. I’d feel more comfortable knowing what he was referring to, but Spike has earned the right to some privacy. I know he’d never do anything that would endanger any of us, so I know that when the time is right, he’ll tell the rest of us.

For now though, we face the issue of figuring out what we do know… Joyce Summers (or something masquerading as her) has instructed Spike to contact someone from his past named Elke and to embark on an imbrigatt. None of us, Spike included, have any idea what that word means or might possibly involve. So, we were understandably leery at first, but agreed that the best thing we could do was determine if it was indeed Joyce who contacted Spike, locate this Elke person, and learn more about the imbrigatt and what exactly that entails. Spike and Dawn were and still are both especially focused on determining if it was Joyce that contacted him, and both seem to feel that if we could ascertain that, then the rest of our research might not be necessary. Although I can appreciate their implicit trust in Joyce Summers, I strongly advised that we should err on the side of caution no matter the source of instruction. Eventually they both agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly, with the wisdom of that approach. Spike last saw Elke here in London back in early 1890, so if we are able to find her today then she is probably a demon of some sort. Spike thought she might be able to answer at least some of our questions if we could just locate her.

Well, I’m all for efficiency, so an impromptu trip to England was the end result. Faith and Dawn are still back in L.A., much to their chagrin. I’m not exactly certain why Spike was so adamant that they not come with us, but he would not be dissuaded on that point. And even though Faith’s questionable status in the eyes of the law has yet to be resolved, I did not particularly care to leave them behind…until Spike muttered a few phrases that included terms like “not fit for ladies’ eyes” and “inappropriate” which gave me enough cause to back his position. Faith seemed fine either way, and I suspect she was actually looking forward to some time to settle down and get comfortable in our little home. Dawn, however, argued with Spike about this for 2 straight days while we made plans, but finally was bribed with a fully financed no-limitations shopping spree for herself and Faith. I have the sinking suspicion that the L.A. price tag will be far more expensive than the cost of travel for the two of us during our little jaunt overseas.

In the meantime though, we’re here collecting luggage and headed to our hotel, a place I’ve never stayed before, but one that Spike seems to feel suits our needs. While not catering strictly to the demon clientele, it apparently has enough sources of information handy that we should be able to find what we need easily. I was relieved to learn that I wouldn’t be the only human staying there at least and Spike laughingly assured me that while I wouldn’t be the only one, he’d “wager I’d be the most dangerous among them.” That was a rather refreshing boost to my ego, and just what I needed, if truth were told. Coming back brings up memories of the scared little boy, the tense teen, and the rather easily led young man I was when I lived here. Before the Watcher’s Council sent me to America, I can honestly say that I never did anything for myself. Everything I did was an attempt to please my father – something that I never actually succeeded in doing. Although I’m inclined these days to believe that had less to do with me, and more to do with him. Back then, however, I felt the quintessential failure on a daily basis. Even the small victories I achieved – becoming Head Boy at the Watchers’ Academy, for example – were muted by my father’s doubts, criticisms and questions of why I did not achieve more.

Then the Council sent me to Sunnydale and I quickly learned that all the righteous beliefs and dogma they had instilled in me were nothing more than complete and total balderdash. The few months I spent in Sunnydale were both the most humiliating and the most liberating of my life. It would not be for some time after leaving Sunnydale that I would realize this and embrace my freedom, but the seeds were definitely first planted there. Coming to L.A. later that year and encountering Cordelia and Angel had an effect on me that I cannot adequately describe. I had been traveling on my own for some months, cut off from any circle of support whatsoever. My father would not speak to me after the Watcher’s Council fired me. Neither would my mother as she did not wish to upset my father. I had no friends to speak of, so I buried myself in my work as a rogue demon hunter. I can chuckle now as I envision the picture I must have presented back then, but at the time I was serious about embracing the lifestyle I had chosen, or rather that had chosen me. It was all I had, after all. Then Angel took me on and I will forever be grateful to him for accepting me and welcoming me to his business and his family. He became like another father figure to me and I will admit to falling into the trap of doing things to try to win his favor just as I did my own father’s countless times. Angel, however, was at least a tad more appreciative if not that much more expressive.

I was just starting to feel comfortable in this new role when Angel fired Cordelia, Gunn and I rather unexpectedly. That single move devastated me. It was just like my father all over again. That was the emotional effect it had on me. And although I did not share this with either Cordelia or Gunn, I was deeply aggrieved by what I viewed as his betrayal. Becoming the head of a newly formed agency with Cordelia and Gunn was most gratifying and helped me to find a new place for myself, a new role as a leader… as opposed to the follower I had always been. It was not easy to make decisions that affected everyone and to have the burden of responsibility fall on my shoulders, but I slowly learned to incorporate that facet of myself. So, when Angel returned to us, I was pleased when he asked to work for us rather than being the boss. I don’t think I could have risked allowing him to resume his former position – not out of any concern for the others or the business, but simply because it was too risky for my heart. And at first it was awkward, for both of us, as he still wanted to assert his leadership at times. Then we started to become friends, equals even, and this new peer relationship with Angel was so much more rewarding than the previous one had ever proved to be. Even though I lost out with Fred, there were other aspects of my life that were very rewarding during this time. Cordelia and I had worked past any childish animosity and I considered her to be as a sister to me. Gunn was my brother in arms and the dearest of friends. And Angel treated me as an equal, not as one of lesser stature. Other than in the romantic sense, I had never been more loved in my life.

But then I found the prophecy that would change everything…and so drastically, too…more than I could have ever imagined. “The Father shall kill the Son.” What a nightmare that was… one that still haunts both my sleep and waking hours to this day. So wrapped up in preventing the prophecy from coming to pass…I refused to consider turning to the others for assistance. I couldn’t bear to share that horrible possibility with them for multiple reasons – to spare them, to prevent it coming true, to avoid one of them unintentionally bringing it about. Yet, there is the ultimate irony. I was the one who brought the worst crime to pass through my own actions. And although Spike received confirmation from an oracle during his otherworldly ventures that my intervention actually saved Connor’s life in the end… I don’t know that this provides much balm to soothe my soul. Perhaps some day it will, but not right now. The hurt is still too great, the wound too recent to heal. I lost everyone who mattered to me over that one action and it pains me greatly. That they would all turn on me without even trying to understand. Fred, at least, investigated the reasons behind my decisions, but she still chose to stand against me afterward. Gunn judged me based on my actions. Cordelia wasn’t even there, but she stood with Angel when she returned. And Angel simply hated me for stealing his son away. Not that I blame him. He alone had every right to hate me for what I did. But the others! Did they really have to choose a side? Did they have to turn me totally adrift? The only contact I have had with them since then has been two-fold. Gunn came to me for help curing Fred, which I provided, although I made it clear to him that door was closed. And Lorne sent me a peace offering of Glenlivet with a note via Dawn a few months back. I have yet to respond to Lorne’s note, mostly because I don’t know what to say to him. There is also the fact that I have no desire to go to the Hyperion, and should I call, there is no guarantee that Lorne would answer the phone. I rather suspect that he knows this and does not hold it against me. I don’t know that I have any real desire to see the others these days. Dawn and Spike have taught me the meaning of true friendship, and my former friends suffer by comparison. A real friend cares, tries to understand, does not judge you, and supports you even when they don’t support your decision. There is still occasional anger and other negative emotions in a true friendship, but they are talked out and worked through. Those occasions do not destroy the relationship, but rather strengthen it through honesty. I have real and true friends now. And I will not make the mistake of undervaluing what I have with them.

Even Faith falls into this category, although hopefully we will become more some day soon. I am content to take this slowly, however, since I know that we are both in agreement of where we are headed. I might not know this for certain even now, but for a conversation I overheard between Faith and Dawn a few nights before we left for London. While it is not polite to eavesdrop, I found I couldn’t resist once I heard my name mentioned. And I am very glad I did since what I heard buoyed up my courage enough so that I could speak openly with her about us. Before retiring for the night, she and I addressed the still raw topic of our past and the pain we had caused each other – me to her in Sunnydale and she to me in L.A. – and we took the necessary steps to put that behind us. This was the main cause for hesitating to begin any kind of relationship other than a tentative friendship since her return. We both had too many scars and fears to risk speaking up. Now we have agreed upon a clean slate and are ready to begin anew. Being able to do so openly hinges upon my mission in London, which is to secure new documentation for Faith establishing her as a separate person from the one wanted by the police. I am also going to attempt to have her record either expunged (which I doubt is possible) or forgiven. Regardless, all of us agree that Faith needs to be safe in her new life. And although it is doubtful that anyone would recognize her due to aging 10 years since her escape, it is wise to never underestimate the enemy…especially since we still have to deal with Wolfram & Hart periodically. So, I will be meeting tomorrow with one of the best forgers in the business to have her new identity established. Perhaps after that has been successfully accomplished, I will have enough confidence to face my father again. In the meantime, I can always call L.A. before retiring tonight. And that thought prompts me to daydream my way through customs and the cab ride to our hotel, eager to reach my room and the privacy to place a very personal call.


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Sunnydale, CA
Apartment of Buffy & Anya
Buffy POV

The telephone taunts me these days. I can literally hear it jeering at me every time I walk past the bloody thing. Oops. Another Spikism. I’m not supposed to be doing that, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s on my mind all the time – him and Dawn both. Ever since Anya and I returned from L.A., I think about them and wonder how they’re doing. I never actually talked to either of them while we were there. The initial meeting was tense, but buffered by both Wes and Anya’s presence and the news we had to share. Then later it was overshadowed by the urgency of getting Spike, Connor and Faith back here to our dimension. Dawn and I never spoke to each other directly through all that. Since that was the whole reason for our trip – talking to Dawn and trying to work some things out – I’d have to say it was a dismal failure on my end. But I was so overwhelmed by what was going on and all we had learned that I chickened out in the end. And once I saw Spike, I was pretty much done for. It was like watching a play. I was a member of the audience – separate from the performers. I felt sectioned off from the others – apart, alone, an outsider. To see the affection that Dawn and Wes shared was one thing…and Dawn and Spike have always been tight…but then Faith & Spike returned and to see the closeness there…well, it broke my heart in more ways than one. And that was just from their body language. Once everyone started talking and embracing each other, I knew I didn’t belong there. Once again it was Anya who picked up on my emotions and got me out of there before I could fall apart. Why was I never friends with this girl before now? Oh, yeah, because I was stupid and blind and emotionally handicapped. Seems to be the reason for a lot of things gone wrong in my life. Anyway, enough with the pity party. I’m not supposed to be wallowing anymore. According to Anya, I’ve done enough of that already for someone twice my age.

So, Anya and I returned to the hotel and I cried for what felt like hours. Afterward I slept for about half a day, which is something I never do, but I was so drained. The whole ordeal had such a huge impact on me emotionally – gearing up to face Angel but not having to do so, feeling numb (for me) and sad (for him) when I learned about his child and his loss – gathering courage to talk to Dawn and not being able to, feeling rejected by her from the way she acted around me – being totally sideswiped by the news about Spike, feeling a barrage of emotions ranging from fear for his safety to fear of seeing him again to such a longing to see his face – experiencing complete shock learning about Faith and what had almost happened to her and what did actually happen to her, feeling grateful to Spike for rescuing her from that awful fate and also jealous of her (AGAIN) that she’s been with Spike all this time – being totally amazed by the sight of the three of them when they returned, being hungry for a quick glance at Spike and thinking Connor was the cutest kid ever and dropping my jaw in shock at the sight of an older and much more beautiful Faith who was obviously devoted to both the kid and my vampire. And that’s when my lip started trembling, because standing there watching the joyous reunion between these people…this family – one that I was not a part of…I realized that he wasn’t my vampire anymore. That’s when I had to get out of there before I totally broke down. I suppose I could have made the effort to talk to them afterwards, but I was so depressed I just couldn’t see the point in even trying. I was careful not to be anywhere near the hotel when Dawn and Wes came to pick up her clothes, and I know that was cowardly of me, but I just couldn’t do it. Anya didn’t judge me for that, but since we’ve been back, she’s been encouraging me to call them and at least talk to one of them. According to her I should just try to repair one relationship at a time. But there’s so much to fix in my relationships with all of them – Dawn, Spike, Faith and Wes too – that I don’t know where to start. And that is why the phone is taunting me.

When I was a little girl, I thought receiving a phone call must mean that you were really special. It was such a thrill to answer the phone back then even though it was always for my folks. Then I got old enough to use the phone myself and I saw that it was a way to stay in touch with my friends at school. When I was a teen, the phone became a mark of popularity. The more people who called you or who wanted you to have their number…the better liked you were. And boy was I popular. Back then I was the Cordelia of Hemery High and I sure acted the part. After I became the Slayer and moved to Sunnydale, the phone became not such a great thing. Usually it was Giles or one of the others calling with an emergency or bad news of some kind. I didn’t get that many good calls – you know, chatty calls, or ask me out on a date calls, or even sharing gossip calls. Not much of that for me, no sirree. And then at some point, the phone stopped ringing for me at all. The calls were for Dawn mostly, and later on after I came back, for Willow or Tara also, but not so much for me anymore. Although Spike did call me that one time, which totally amazed me because I’d never seen him use a phone and that was just such a foreign concept to me. Anyway, I’ve come full circle because now that I don’t get many or at times any calls, I once again think that getting one must mean you’re special. And my phone isn’t ringing these days, so what does that say about me?


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Sunnydale, CA
The Espresso Pump
Anya POV

According to Cosmo, your hairstyle and makeup say everything about you. According to Vogue, it’s the outfit that makes the woman. If you go by People Magazine, the most important factors are whom you’re dating and how many red carpet events you’ve attended recently. Apparently the paparazzi have the ability to decide who you are in the eyes of others. Hah! Not from where I sit. The only one of these that has a clue at all is Self Magazine, and even then you have to wade through pages and pages on how to get the tightest buns and the best abs before getting to the good stuff. At least they do touch on the important issue – what’s inside is what matters most. So many women don’t get that. They’re so focused on what everyone else sees on the outside, that they forget to look inside every once in a while. Pleasing others is not a worthwhile pursuit. You can’t ever please everyone and you’ll drive yourself crazy trying, never mind that it won’t make you happy anyway. Then again, if everyone were happy, I’d be out of business. Hmm. From what I can see, these magazines are misleading the public with their articles on how to have the perfect hairstyle, get the perfect guy…and live a blissful life. Not like any of that matters much in the end. You can follow all of the instructions that come along with a human existence – all neatly packaged on the shelf for 4.95 U.S. dollars – and in the end your perfect guy will still leave you at the altar.

Not that Xander was perfect – far from it. And yet I thought he was, and I bought all those magazines and read up on how to please a guy and what to do to keep him happy. Funny how those articles never mentioned that you can’t make someone else happy. They’ve got to be that on their own, and then you can add to it. But if your guy is saddled with an inferiority complex the size of Brooklyn, a serious case of blind hero worship, and a tendency to deny what’s right in front of his face… Well, that guy will never be happy ‘cause he doesn’t know how to feel okay about himself. You can knock yourself out trying, but you’ll never make a dent. Kind of ironic that my carpenter ex-fiancé can build just about anything he sets his mind to…anything except some kind of confidence in himself. Instead his self-image is totally wrapped up in his friends. By friends, I mean Buffy and Willow. I think he defines himself by how they’re doing in life. That’s why he totally fell apart when Buffy died. It was like a part of him died when she did. And that’s why he’s been in England with Willow these past few months. So he can help make her better and himself too in the process. I don’t mean that to sound harsh, because Xander really does care about Willow and I realize that. He truly wants to be there for her and help her get better. It’s just that his idea of what’s better is very specific and narrow and a bit idealized. We’ve all seen what happens when something doesn’t mesh with his view on things. Makes me wonder what’s going to happen in a few weeks when Xander and Willow return, as well as Giles. They all have their thoughts and views on how things should be. And the situation here really isn’t the same anymore, now is it?

Buffy and I continue to be roommates and that living arrangement has worked out better than I could have imagined when I first suggested it to her. Who would have thought that the Slayer and a Vengeance Demon could live together in relative harmony? But we get along very well, and Buffy and I have become friends…which is different for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a real friend before other than Halfrek. Before when the others looked at me, it was as Xander’s girlfriend then fiancé or Giles employee then partner. Now I’m developing relationships on my own merits and that feels really good. Why don’t those stupid magazines talk about how nice it is to have a friend who will listen and not judge what you’re saying or thinking, but give honest feedback and be supportive no matter what you decide? Like with the Magic Box. Giles let me make the decision what to do there, which pleased me that he had enough confidence in my decision-making ability to leave it in my hands. Although it crossed my mind that maybe he just didn’t care any more. However, Giles assured me that he believed I was more than capable of assessing the damage and determining the best course of action to recoup our losses. So I thought long and hard about this and talked to Buffy about it for hours on end. At first she was really surprised that I wouldn’t just immediately rebuild the Magic Box and she said so. But when I told her what I was feeling and thinking, she really listened to what I was saying, instead of dismissing me out of hand. She even helped me to research some ideas I had, and I don’t know that I would have had the courage to take the next step without her support and encouragement. I decided to reopen the Magic Box as an online business. By doing so, I give myself the freedom to set my own hours, which will be handy with ‘the vengeance gig’ as Buffy calls it. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of a physical store again, so I talked to D’Hoffryn and he agreed to let me store my stock on Arashmahar in my old suite of rooms there. I’m very much in his good graces right now for my part in stopping Willow from ending the world. As much as he approved of some of the things Willow did before that (like flaying Warren alive) ending this particular world would also end the most abundant supply of vengeance wishes for several galaxies. Kind of hard to do business when Earth is gone, so I currently have that space rent-free. As this eliminated the overhead associated with maintaining property, my only expenses will be for the website and shipping supplies, and some part-time help.

I convinced Buffy to work with me on this while she figures out what comes next for her. I hit on the idea that maybe she was going about things in the wrong way, and ended up buying her this book ‘What Color is Your Parachute?’ She was really pleased by the gift, especially when she saw it was all about figuring out the things you like and don’t like and then putting those details together to form a picture of your career. I’ve never seen her that diligent in any kind of study – high school, college, and slaying all combined. She spend days doing those exercises and the result was several ideas but nothing definite. Which is okay as she doesn’t have to commit to anything right away anyway. She decided to take a couple of night classes in things she’s interested in rather than just picking back up with the sophomore curriculum. We also talked about her possibly contacting people in positions she’s interested in to see if she could shadow them for a day or two to get a better idea of what’s entailed. She was absolutely amazed at how giving people are when you’re interested in what they do. Nothing like flattery to get the ball rolling. In the meantime, Buffy is going to help me with filling the orders and such for the business for some spending cash. She’s got a healthy bank account right now, but why tap that out when she can do something simple in our home at her convenience. And it is…home. I never thought of any other place that way before. My house with Olaf, my rooms on Arashmahar, my apartment with Xander – those were all places that I lived and called mine, but they were never home. Buffy and I have made our apartment into a home and this realization startles me so much that I have to set my coffee cup down before I spill it. Because with acknowledgment of that truth comes the fear of losing this new found sense of home. What will happen when the others return? Will Buffy move out on me and go back to living with Willow or some other arrangement? I don’t want her to move out. And it costs me to admit that to myself. I made myself vulnerable when I was a human, and I got hurt. Now I’m a demon once more, and it makes me nervous to open myself up to being hurt again, and by the slayer, no less. My palms are suddenly sweaty and I have thoughts of teleporting out of here. I could go to another city, another country, another world even – somewhere no one knows me or has the power to hurt me. Then I think of the freshly ground bag of French Roast coffee that I found on the counter this morning. Buffy’s not real big on coffee, but I am and I noticed yesterday that I was running low. She must have stopped by the store last night some time between class and slaying. I take a sip of the coffee in front of me and smile. I didn’t ask her to do that for me and she didn’t have to do so, but she chose to because she knew I’d appreciate it. And that decides me. I’m not going to run away again. I’ve done that before. I’m going to stay this time. I’m going to stand beside Buffy – my friend – and together we’ll face what’s ahead. I don’t know yet what that is, but that’s a door we’ll open together when we get to it.


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Sunnydale, CA
Hallway outside of Buffy & Anya’s Apartment
Faith POV

I hate closed doors! And even as I think that, I can hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like my shrink from prison asking me why I hate them. What does the closed door represent, Faith? I don’t even have to stop and search for an answer to that one. I know exactly what the closed door means to me. When I was a little kid, my dad closed the door when he walked out on my mom and me. The closed door to mom’s room overshadowed the next few years. It meant one of two things – she was passed out drunk or she had a guy in there. When I was twelve, I can still remember the night my mom’s boyfriend Larry came into my room in the middle of the night. I was sound asleep and woke up to see him closing and locking my bedroom door. My mom had a lot of guys passing through our house after dad left, but this guy was big and ugly and he made me nervous. That night he also made me cry, and left me bruised and no longer a virgin. My dad closing the door symbolized rejection and abandonment. Mom’s closed door told me I had no real value to her – the booze and the guys meant more. Larry closing the door was two-fold – coming in it meant I was trapped and leaving it meant this was what I could look forward to in the future, being used and abused. I quickly learned that it was much better to be the one closing the door than the one on the receiving end. It was a philosophy that helped me survive those next few years before I was called to be a Slayer.

Then I came to Sunnydale and my whole worldview was thrown off kilter. All of a sudden, doors were being opened to me – by Buffy and her watcher and her friends and most importantly by her mother. The fact that a woman like Joyce Summers could want to have me in her home, meant more to me than anyone will ever know. She made mistakes sure, but she at least tried to be a real mom to Buffy, and that relationship was the one I envied Buffy the most. ‘Course it didn’t last. It probably didn’t have to go down the way it did, but I hadn’t known any of them for very long and trust wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Gwendolyn Post the power-hungry fake Watcher, Buffy lying about Angel being back, Wesley being a pompous ass and ordering me about…well, they just started the downward cycle. Killing the mayor’s assistant was an accident, but it cemented the track I was on and the final outcome was set in my mind even then. Not that I planned on ending up in a coma, but I knew it would end in a fight to the finish between me and Buffy. No other option really. Now, of course, I can see that I had other choices. I didn’t realize that back then, and even if I had, there wasn’t enough trust in my life on any level to make me choose otherwise even if the results would have been better. So, I’ve had to learn the very hard way about how you can open doors…even if someone else has already closed them. And that’s why I’m standing here in the hallway outside of Buffy’s apartment trying to make myself knock on that damn door and get this over with as painlessly as possible. Not that it’s going to be pretty, I know that, but I have to try. Because Buffy would have done this once for me, and I owe it to her to at least try to open the door.

I always envied Buffy. I think everyone knew that right away except for her. She felt threatened by me when I first showed up in Sunnydale, and yet she was the one who had everything I always wanted. And I don’t know all the details by any stretch of the imagination, but somehow along the way our roles shifted. Because now I’m the one who has everything she wants. I saw it in her eyes when we returned to L.A. Between the hugs and shouting, in a room full of love, Buffy Summers was the one left out in the cold. She knew it and so did I. It’s why she left without saying anything. I would have done the same thing once upon a time, so I get it…perhaps better than any of the others. And unlike Spike and Dawn, I’m not mad at Buffy. If anything, she might still be mad at me. Probably is. Not like I ever gave her a reason to forgive me. Turning yourself in to the police for murder isn’t exactly the same as saying “I’m sorry” and I get that now. I’ve got so much I want to say to her. So, I’m here to tell her I’m sorry, try to make amends, and possibly help her out in return. If she slams the door in my face, it won’t be anything more than I deserve given our past history, but I’m really hoping she won’t. Knowing what’s coming next, I’ve got to do this, and at least give her a heads up so she won’t be blindsided when we all show up in Sunnydale. And just as I’m raising my hand to knock, the door opens and there stands Buffy looking nothing short of shocked to see me, and I suddenly have no idea what to say to her.



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Sunnydale, CA
Apartment of Buffy & Anya
Buffy POV

Opening the door to run out to the store I nearly have a heart attack when I’m suddenly face-to-face with Faith. I’m totally speechless. Although she appeared to be ready to knock, Faith doesn’t seem to know what to say either. As we stand there and stare at each other for the longest time, I get a chance to really look at her. At the townhouse in L.A., I noticed immediately how beautiful Faith looked, and my initial impression was dead on. She’s gorgeous and womanly, voluptuous and sexy, and I suddenly feel incredibly dowdy standing next to her. Who knew that aging 10 years could do that to a girl. I always worried that another decade meant wrinkles and possibly gray hair, particularly in our line of work. But Faith looks awesome, and not just physically. She carries herself differently – more confidently. And even though neither one of us is speaking at the moment, she appears reserved and calm, while I feel like a spaz next to her. And as I’m thinking all this and ready to just go back inside and cry some more, I get past her appearance and see her eyes. They’re full of so many emotions. I’m used to that with Faith, but they used to be of anger, defiance, excitement and energy. Now I see regret, sorrow, compassion, understanding and peace. I’m intrigued by this, especially by that last emotion. And I silently step back to allow her to enter. She takes her cue from me and we go back into my little apartment. As I shut the door behind me, I pray that I’m doing the right thing by allowing someone who was once a poisonous viper entry to my sanctuary. I pray that my intuition isn’t completely off and that letting Faith in will turn out to be a good call on my part.

Several hours later and I’m still not entirely sure how to feel about everything. Tonight was an emotional roller coaster and I still might be sick from the ride before it’s over with. Faith and I talked about so many things that we’ve never come close to discussing before. We might never have done so if she hadn’t gotten the ball rolling. I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say first, but it definitely wasn’t how she cried when she heard about my mom’s death and why. I never knew all those things about her childhood, and it really shook up my viewpoint – made me understand her a little better. Then she apologized for all the bad calls on her part, and we just started to talk from there. I can’t believe how much she’s matured since the last time I saw her. I don’t know if it was the time in prison or the fact that it’s been over a decade for her since we last saw each other, but she’s really grown up. And seeing the progress she’s made gave me the courage to be honest with her. We talked about everything and I told her about all she’d missed – fighting Glory, dying, resurrection. I didn’t leave anything out. I told her how I’d hated my friends for bringing me back, but didn’t tell them that. How I used Spike to feel better, but totally abused him. How I ignored Dawn, but cried so hard over losing her. I even told her how relieved I was to jump into that portal knowing that I could finally rest. I was so grateful that she understood. I think she’s the only one who could. She told me about her time in prison and the realizations she’d had there. How Spike literally saved her from a fate worse than death. About her years traveling dimensions with Spike and Connor. She was considerate enough to tell me they didn’t sleep together, which I so needed to hear, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. She also told me what had been gong on since I saw them a few weeks ago, and I got goose bumps to think of my mom’s spirit contacting Spike. I can so totally believe that though. Mom always did have a fond spot for the bleached menace. I smile to think of the two of them talking over hot chocolate, and then Faith starts telling me about how Wes and Spike have been in London the past couple of weeks and that the next stop on this trip is apparently Sunnydale. My heart stops and then about jumps out of my chest going a mile a minute. I’m terrified and thrilled to hear they’ll be in Sunnydale. All four of them from what Faith told me. She’s actually here to find a place for them to stay temporarily while they take the next step. That means that Dawn and Spike will both be here, and I might see them, talk to them even. And I’m scared of that…my last attempt to talk to Dawn proved what a coward I am there…but I want another chance to at least try. With Spike, too. And I don’t know if either one of them is willing to let me in at all. Spike I hurt worse in so many ways, but Dawn felt more betrayed because we’re family and I wasn’t there for her like I should’ve been. Doesn’t matter who I hurt more. I already know that I have to make things right with both of them – because I owe them that, because I won’t get one’s acceptance or forgiveness without the other’s, because it’s the right thing to do, and most importantly because I want to. I’ve missed them both so much these past few months, and seeing the close-knit family unit they’ve formed up in L.A. just brought that home to me ten-fold. They’re a family now, and I want that again.

I want to be a part of this – of them – so badly that I’m speaking up, offering all sorts of things before I even realize that my lips are moving. Faith smiles softly at my enthusiastic rambling and I sheepishly backtrack. My face falls as I realize that it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for four people to stay in our small apartment, particularly when I’m not on speaking terms with two of those people. But I cheer up when Faith accepts my offer to let her crash here for tonight and help her find a place for them tomorrow. And when she says that she’ll let the others know that Anya and I (yes, I volunteered her, but she’ll be okay with that) are willing to help out with all this, I practically squeal with excitement and then burst into tears. I’m such a blubbery mess these days. I cry at a moments notice. Not very warrior-like, I know. Faith hands me a tissue out of the box we’ve demolished tonight and lets me weep quietly while she goes to call Dawn and let her know what’s going on. I want so very badly to listen in on that conversation and see if I can judge Dawn’s attitude toward me from her reaction to what Faith says, but I don’t. Faith said she wouldn’t take sides in all this between me and Spike and Dawn. That she wanted us to work things out so we could all heal and move on. That she’d try to help us all reach a point where we can at least talk about things. But that she wouldn’t share anything said in confidence with any of us. Well, I can respect that, so I don’t pick up the broken headset that still receives and is a handy eavesdropping tool as my little sister once discovered when we lived on Revello Drive. Instead I wipe my cheeks and go into the kitchen to see about fixing something for dinner. I’m starved and I’m sure Faith is also. Baring your soul certainly builds up quite the appetite.


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Los Angeles, CA
Dawn’s Bedroom
Dawn POV

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but it’s the noise that bring me back to reality. The first noise is the phone buzzing at me because I forgot to hang it up as I stare at it like an idiot. As the phone reconnects with the cradle, I hear another noise that suddenly spurs me into high gear. It’s the smoke alarm going off in the kitchen and as I race down the stairs to try and save what’s left of my pizza – hopeless mission – I’m still not all there mentally. And even after I manage to get the stupid fire extinguisher to work, and stop what could have been a disaster…although looking at the counters covered in white fizzing goo looks disastrous enough to me. And couldn’t those monks have given me some special coordination skills while they were at it? Who knew getting a fire extinguisher turned on and pointed in the right direction could be so hard?!? Even as I am staring at the wreck that is my kitchen, knowing that I will have to clean this up without getting to eat… My masterpiece pizza is totally ruined! Well, even now my mind is more occupied with the brief phone conversation than with the all-important loss of triple anchovy pizza.

To say I zoned out after my conversation with Faith would be an understatement. I was totally freaked out to hear how she was getting along with Buffy well enough to spend the night there! How is that possible? My sister – the massive bitch who only allows those who are “good enough” to be around her is suddenly living with Anya and being friendly to Faith? I’ve really come to enjoy Faith’s company, and I always thought that Anya was a hoot to have around. You never know what will come out of her mouth next. Actually, Faith and Anya both have that up-front quality to them. No matter how shocking their words or behavior might be, you always know where you stand with them. Spike’s the same way. Wesley didn’t use to be – from what I hear anyway – but he’s very open with us now. And that openness is a quality that’s always made Buffy uncomfortable. Back in high school, she was always playing coy little games with people even before she became the Slayer, and then afterward it was all about keeping secrets because of the slaying. And I know that I wasn’t really there, but my memories of that time are deeply rooted! And even if my memories are not completely reliable about that time…well they’re sure dead-on regarding the past couple of years. And I know without a doubt that my sister would never have chosen to spend an evening with either Anya or Faith voluntarily. Or at least the sister I lived with wouldn’t have done so. I don’t know this person that she seems to be lately. I’ve only seen her the one time here at our house and we didn’t talk at all, and there was so much going on that day that my emotions were pulled in too many directions to deal with her. Besides I was still way too pissed to consider talking to her about anything. But later on after things calmed down, I remember hearing that Buffy and Anya were roommates now and that Buffy had sold our mom’s house. I can’t really blame her for selling that big old house, but I never would have expected her to move in with Anya, of all people. And a large part of me wondered if that was only because everyone else was gone and Anya was the only one still in Sunnydale? And I know that’s catty, and I don’t mean anything bad against Anya by that, but would Buffy have moved in with Anya if Willow were still there? Or even Xander? Hmmm. And what about Faith, huh?

Okay, I’ll admit it. That’s what’s freaking me out the most. Faith went to Sunnydale to check things out and line us up a place to stay now that Spike and Wes have some ideas about when we’ll be going over there. And she told me that she was going to stop by and talk to Buffy…that she needed to “clear the air” between them. Well, okay, I can respect that. I do remember things from back when Faith was bad and I heard things that I wasn’t supposed to know, so I guess they do have some dirt to dish over. But I didn’t really expect it to go all that well. Not that I want Faith to get hurt or rejected by anyone else, because I don’t. I totally think everyone should give Faith a fresh start. She’s proved herself several times over as far as I’m concerned. Turning herself in for murder, doing her time in jail, standing by Spike and Connor all those years, not to mention how nice she’s been to me since she got back. Oh, yeah, Faith’s proved she was sorry for the things she did and she’s shown that she’s changed. My sister sure hasn’t done anything like that. I have yet to hear one word of apology for the way she acted or any of the wrongs she did against anyone! So as far as I’m concerned, Buffy hasn’t changed a bit!

Which is why I was surprised to hear from Faith that their meeting went really well tonight. Not that I got the scoop or anything. Faith just told me that things were cool, she was staying there tonight, and that Buffy was going to help her find a place for us tomorrow. Hello! Who is this person? My sister doesn’t live with Anya, particularly not when she’s a vengeance demon again. She doesn’t have non-violent rational conversations with Faith. And she surely doesn’t offer to help the ‘bad slayer’ find a place to stay in her town, let alone put her up for the night. I am totally freaking out here. This is all very non-Buffy behavior. And I don’t like it one bit. My sister is a bitch. That much I can count on. She’s cold and selfish and she uses other people to make herself feel better. The only people who really matter to her are her little group of friends – Willow, Xander, Giles – oh, and let’s not forget, the one and only perfect guy – Angel. Not that Angel’s all that bad…at least from a distance he’s not. But Buffy always acted like anything any of those guys said was the gospel truth – especially if it was from Angel. The rest of us didn’t even rate in her book. Not even mom’s opinion counted for much in Buffy’s point of view. She surrounded herself with the people she wanted and the rest of us were optional. Most days I felt like I wasn’t even an option she would have picked if given a choice. I was just a freak former key sister that she got stuck with when mom died. But even before all that, it wasn’t like Buffy let just anyone in. Oh, no! You had to meet up to her image of what you should be, and if you didn’t…well, then you just weren’t in her circle, were you? You might be shown glimpses of it to see what you were missing out on, but that was just a tease. Not like anyone else was ever really let in once the initial core was formed.

And it’s those of us that were never truly allowed in the inner circle – Spike, Wesley, Faith, and myself – that have formed our own circle here. And unlike the “Scooby” clique (‘cause that’s what they were – I don’t care what they say)…we’re all on equal footing here. No one orders everyone else around. No one carries a veto over the others’ opinions. And I like our group just the way it is. I don’t want that to change and I’m scared it will. I’m not saying we can’t be open to letting others in. We have already. It started with Spike and I, then Wes, now Faith. It’s just that our…dynamic – yeah, that’s the right word – is totally different than what Buffy and her friends always had. And it’s perfect the way things work between us now, and it keeps getting better as we get more comfortable with each other. Case in point…how totally sweet Wes and Faith are as they keep exchanging little longing glances and shy looks, making each other blush – but in a good, happy way…not that mortifying way I remember all too well from junior high. I’m rambling again. I know. My point is though that Buffy could change all that. Faith’s over there with her right now. Wesley was willing to let her into our home already. What comes next? Will she try to come in and change the way things are? Take over? Ruin everything? Make me and Spike miserable again? I won’t be able to handle it if she hurts him again. I won’t let her hurt him again. And I surely won’t let her fuck up the life that I’ve made here in LA for myself. That’s right, sister. I don’t know what’s going on with you over there in Sunnydale, and maybe you’ve actually grown up a little bit and changed for the better. But I don’t trust you. You haven’t given me any reason to do so, and I won’t give you any opportunities to hurt the people I love. So you better behave yourself when we get over there, because I will be watching you. I’ll be ready for you. And I won’t be fooled into believing you again. You’ll have to really prove yourself before I allow you anywhere near me or Spike.

Speaking of Spike, he is going to totally kill me. I’ve been cleaning the kitchen while I was thinking and the mess is gone, but the smell is still really strong. I thought it was a great idea to add some extra anchovies – what’s a can or two anyway? – to my leftover pizza. Never planned to scorch the stupid thing. But now the kitchen curtains smell like fish and that’s not good. Spike hates the smell of anchovies worse than just about anything. I wonder if the smell got into any other rooms. Shit. The entryway totally reeks! I’m going to have to air out the whole house tomorrow and rent a steam cleaner. I’m glad I’ve got a few days before the guys get back to make this happen. Maybe Faith will have some ideas on what to do. Or better yet, I can ask Jeeves! Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. But as I head toward the computer, my tummy growls and I head toward the pantry instead. I forgot my appetite when I was thinking of Buffy earlier, but I remember that I’m ravenously hungry. Oooh. We’ve got peanut butter and bananas. Yum!


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London, England
Spike’s hotel room
Spike POV

I’m still hungry! Blasted mini-bars. They never have enough macadamia nuts to satisfy me. Those are the best bloody nuts I’ve ever tasted. Didn’t have those around when I was a human, leastways that I knew of back then. Discovered them years later when I came to America for the first time, and I’m crazy about ‘em. Bloody brilliant they are. Richer than other nuts, ya know. Maybe that’s why they taste so good to me. I’m tryin’ to get properly pissed and it’s damn near impossible with these tiny little bottles of liquor anyway – barely a full shot in one. I at least want my buggerin’ nuts to keep me happy. Hold up. That didn’t sound right, even in my head. Maybe the mini-Jack is gettin’ to me after all. Then again, maybe it’s everything else makin’ me feel this way. More ‘n likely it’s the latter. And I really don’t wanna think about all that jus’ now, but I’ve opened the bloody door and can’t seem to stop the thoughts.

Wes ‘n’ I are headin’ back home shortly. We’ve still got a couple of loose ends to wrap up here, but we’re almost done. Wes got Faith’s new identity established first thing and when he wasn’t able to get her records either expunged or forgiven, we hit on the next best answer. If you can’t kill the record, then kill the girl. That sounded much better after a bottle or two of Scotch, but it was a feasible solution and one that proved amazingly simple to pull off. Wes’s contact arranged to switch Faith’s dental records with a newly discovered corpse in New York City, and voila…the fugitive was declared dead. So now our Faith has a new lease on life, literally. I know Wes was relieved to have that taken care of and we celebrated long into the night. He needed that success too coming on the heels of a right depressing visit with his ol’ man. I wasn’t sure of the details of their relationship, but Wes was a dismal sight upon his return, so I did the only thing I could think to do in that situation. I ordered up another case of Scotch. (At this rate, our bloody tab is going to be huge.) Fortunately Wes responds to Scotch about like I do, and it’s helped us through several rough spots both over these past few months and then especially since we hit the shores of Merry Ole England. This visit to the Motherland has been trying for both of us. Coming home shouldn’t be so hard. Can’t rightly say which of us has had a tougher time of it though. Likely Wes would have won that pissin’ contest…until tonight anyway when I was assaulted by the past.

I found Elke this evening and she was just as I remembered her. Beautiful, enchanting, mesmerizing voice, hips swaying softly as she sang in the spotlight, weaving a spell that none in the audience escaped. M’self included. I was just as taken in by her this time as I was years ago. I just didn’t realize it at first. Thought I just forgot how physically captivatin’ she is. Not like me to forget someone as lovely as her, but it has been over a hundred years since I last saw her. Twasn’t easy to find her again neither. She doesn’t stay in one location very long and I had to keep hittin’ the clubs till I got lucky enough to catch her show. Must’ve been sheer dumb luck that I caught her the first time around, although likely the blasted Powers had a hand in that too. I hate those blighters, always screwing a bloke over when he’s least expectin’ it. And I was out hunting with Angelus the night I first saw Elke. We had come across a party earlier that night and had a gay old time of it. The girls headed back to the lair afterward, but Angelus took me out to teach me ‘the ways.’ What a poser he was back then. Still is actually, and that makes me smirk in spite of what’s on my mind. Stupid bogtrotter always tried to act high and mighty to cover up his true self. Can’t ever really do that though, can you? And my smile fades at that thought. I’m still the hopeless fool for love, still the bumbling git who never gets the girl, still William. What hope is there for me? I’m not usually so melancholy. Don’t rightly know if it’s the soul or memories or what Elke shared with me tonight that’s bringin’ this side of me out for a spell. ‘Spect it’s a combination of all three.

I vaguely remembered meetin’ Elke before, but I had no recollection of specific events until tonight. When I found her, I sat and enjoyed the show. Man ‘d have to be blind and deaf to not appreciate her beauty and talent. As ‘m neither blind nor deaf, I was totally under her spell before she even glanced my way. After the show, she invited me to join her in her dressing room, and as soon as I walked through those doors, it all came rushing back. A similarly decorated room, being invited in while Angelus waited outside in a stupor, somehow knowing he was bewitched and not drunk, vaguely realizing that I was under some enchantment also, warm fingers loosely clasping my temple, a feeling of joining with another in spirit – not an invasion, but a welcome addition – followed by a secretive smile, a kiss on my cheek, and a whispered ‘return to me when you’re ready for the journey’ and then I was outside the club with Angelus and we were both shaking the cobwebs off thinking the effect was due to over-imbibing. When I recalled all this tonight, she smiled at me and said that I was finally ready to begin the journey. That raised a bit of a red flag since I just got back from a 10-year trek and I’m not real keen to go off again. Don’t think the Bit’s going to take well to that either. But I just raised an eyebrow at her and motioned for her to explain. Bugger me, but I would have been a sight better off had she not done so. Turns out that Elke doesn’t have the answers for a few of our questions. She has all of them. She explained the imbrigatt to me and I can only imagine what the others will have to say about it. Wes was asleep when I returned, so no one else knows yet. I don’t really want to share it with them, truth be told. Bit’s going to flip out when she hears about this, and I’m not real keen on it myself. I don’t even know if I’m capable of surviving this, and I don’t say that easily. If it really was Joyce what asked this of me, then I’ll do it, no question…even though I don’t see any good reason for me to do so. Talk about takin’ a lot on faith, and she’s not even here to ask anything of me. ‘Kay, I’ve probably had too much to drink seein’ as that lame pun made me laugh out loud. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day and I should really get some kip. Maybe tomorrow will bring some new insight into things, and maybe I’ll feel differently about things. Don’t rightly know ‘bout that, ‘specially as seein’ how I haven’t even started to think about goin’ back to Sunnyhell and seein’ the Slayer again. I don’t know how I feel about that at all, or even how I should feel anymore. Right now I’m just confused and tired and dreading the next few weeks.

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