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8. Bad Girls.


“Ladies…ladies, I’m not disappointed in you. I’m just worried…have you been harmed in any way? Faith, my dear, that’s a really bad injury…you should disinfect it as soon as possible. You don’t know how much damage can be provoked by germs. Darla, my darling…let me tell you that, although you may be bleeding, you’re still glowing.”
Faith and Darla sat on the big leather armchairs. “Candy?” offered their guest, quietly seated on the other side of the desk. The American flag was well displayed on its pedestal, next to his bureau, mini-golf, and the trophies he had won in the 4th of July softball tournaments.
Faith took a bonbon, shyly, and then relaxed back into the armchair. She kept her wounded foot propped up on her knee. Darla, however refused the offer and continued to look at the man with a soft smile on her beautiful dead lips.
“Seventy years since last time we met…and you look exactly the same, Mayor Wilkins. You’re still serving the community, I take it?”
“Within my modest means,” he evaded. “I believe that we should preserve the common good.”
“And our own strength,” Darla suggested.
“Strength increases together with wisdom.” Wilkins joined his hands and looked at them. “Darla, you’re an example of self control. On the contrary, Faith…my dear child!” he scolded her with tenderness. “I warned you not to play with the slayer…not yet…if you could avoid it. She’s ugly and vicious.”
Faith mumbled. “I’m the slayer.”
Wilkins smiled, saying nothing.
“I’m the slayer,” Faith repeated. “She died. And it was up to me…and I slew.”
“Until Kakistos killed your watcher and raped her corpse.” Darla yawned. “And I found you wandering in the back streets of Boston, with misery running through your veins like crack, and the crazy desire to fix somebody’s wagon…”
“I’m so grateful for what you have done for my Faith, Darla,” the mayor said. “You took her from the street. You gave her a home. You gave her weapons. And then you brought her to me.”
“Yes…”Darla whispered. “You know what they say? If you don’t want to be shot, it’s better if you don’t show your gun. Giving a crossbow, a knife and a stake to Faith was one of my wisest choices…particularly if we consider how well she used them…against my enemies. And yours.”
“Although…” the Mayor said, in his most professional tone. “Tonight Faith’s training and… motivations weren’t enough…and I regret that. The mission, despite the remarkable empowerment work, wasn’t totally completed. Spike and Angelus are still in Sunnydale…still alive.”
“Spike should be dust. Miss Search-and-destroy, here, has buried him under an organ,” Darla stated quietly.
“My report tells me otherwise,” smiled Wilkins, taking out a carbon copy. “According to my sources, Drusilla and he are in an old crypt…a place which is difficult to defend, in my humble opinion. And full of toxins, I would guess. Absolutely unsuitable.”
“They’re dead, boss” Faith objected.
“Hygiene is always important,” he answered.
“It’s not a problem. Spike is weak and Dru is crazy. We’ll defeat them.”
“And Angelus?” Wilkins asked. “Oh, that development was quite unexpected. Angelus was saved by…the slayer. Sorry Faith, by the reigning slayer. Heh heh…I always forget there are two of you…”
“We’ll take care of Angelus,” Darla promised. “I’ll do it myself…you look after that wet blonde.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Faith mumbled, clutching with nervous and clumsy fingers at her hurriedly bandaged foot.
“Ladies, the journey from Los Angeles has been long, and you must be tired. I’m sure you will benefit from Sunnydale’s hospitality…we have a large apartment prepared in a residence just out of town, reserved for precisely this type of…particular need.”
“At the taxpayer’s expense?” Darla asked.
“But of course. Throughout the term…the terms of my office, we have never shown any imbalance in the accounts. I’m really proud of that.”
“I have my own financial backing, Mr. Mayor…I’m sure you know that.”
“I know, my dear…a certain Los Angeles legal firm…but - and I’m just asking you this out of curiosity - what does Wolfram and Hart expect from you in return?”
Darla smiled. “Angelus. And Spike. They came here to lord it over everybody, to conquer the Hellmouth…now that the Master has been defeated. I don’t think your citizens will confirm you in office again if the massacre begins…a few deaths…mysterious losses…these things can be easily hidden from your police. But this time we’re talking about the Scourge of Europe and his disreputable companions.”
“My dear, you have summed up my motivations perfectly, but you still haven’t answered my question,” the mayor replied coldly. The way his cordial face could become stern was amazing…and admirable.
With seriously discomforting effect.
“Do you believe in prophecies, Mr. Mayor?”
“Sometimes they’re useful…like tax allowances. And just as treacherous.”
“There’s one which concerns a vampire with a soul. Who could save…or destroy…the world. Wolfram and Hart’s politics takes care of those…ahem…variables.”
“Neither of the two vampires you mentioned has a soul,” stated Wilkins, with a pleasant smile.
“For the moment. The legal firm’s oracles think that Angelus…or Spike…or both of them have a possibility…let me find the right word…a karmic possibility…of gaining their soul back. This could never happen…or it could happen tomorrow. We’re talking about immortal creatures. And about dimensional planes which tend to intersect each other…”
“Not exactly. A well targeted stake could solve all Wolfram and Hart’s problems.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe they don’t dare to risk it. Maybe they rely on Angelus and Spike …who knows what kind of goals they have? For the moment they want me to stop their plan of turning this town into hell… more than it is already, of course.”
“Tell me the real reason why you’re doing this, Darla,” asked the Mayor. “Obviously this satisfies my objectives completely - considering also my imminent Ascension - but you have never worked for someone else. You’ve always been better than that. Independent. Master of yourself and of the world. A perfect terror sower.”
“I’ve my reasons,” Darla replied shortly, and she stood up. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Mayor. We must wash and feed ourselves. We’ll talk later about our plans.”
Faith stood up too. She had listened to their conversation with complete indifference. She was tired, aching, restless.
And excited.
“Where can you have fun in this lousy city?”




Buffy enjoyed the silence while she finished dressing. She needed it to soothe her restless soul. Her mom hadn’t yet returned. Sometimes, it seemed so easy for Joyce to put her job before her daughter. She wasn’t doing it because she was cruel, or selfish, as her father was. She was doing it because life- during the 90s - demanded a lot of a single woman with a teenage daughter.
The girl looked back one more time at her unmade bed, where only a few minutes before she had slept on the Scourge of Europe’s chest. Angelus had kissed her, filled her head with mysterious whispers. And she had closed her eyes.
Closed her eyes. Only that moment was important. She couldn’t open her eyes and see the truth.
That was a luxury she could not afford.
And then, as if nothing had happened, Angelus had stood up, put on what remained of his clothes, and left. He had looked at her distantly and brushed her lips with a kiss.
And then she was alone.
Alone.
She was lying to her mother, she was lying to Giles, she was lying to her friends. She had only…herself.
And a truth she still couldn’t stand.
The night before, she had received two painful blows to her view of the world and to her self-esteem: she had almost sacrificed her life for Angelus, and she was no more the reigning slayer, the “chosen one”.
Faith.
Fighting on the side of evil. If she could define as “evil” the ones who had tried to kill three dangerous vampires.
And who was on her side? Who was protecting good…if everything around her was dark?
Buffy faced the mirror in the bathroom and fastened a silver cross around her neck. She hadn’t worn it since the day she first made love with Spike. She knew how they burned the delicate vampire skin…
That night it would be enough to protect her. It had to be enough.



The lights were low at the Bronze. The club was a lair, and of the worst kind. It was a place in which monsters and vampires went looking for nourishment, a place where the slayer had often fought.
And it was the place where Sunnydale High students liked to congregate. Xander and Cordelia swayed together, following the rhythm. Willow was drinking a cappuccino with her boyfriend: the Dingoes weren’t playing that night.
Buffy entered, in a dark blue mini-dress, the silver cross against her honey-colored skin and her beautiful blonde hair - lightened by the sun – down around her shoulders. Her high heels accentuated her slim body. She was followed by both masculine and feminine glances. To say that she was beautiful was inadequate: it was mostly a question of power. Buffy had surrendered to the charms of the night, and she was living proof that, in the end, nothing is more liberating than having nothing to lose.
Her glance met Xander’s. The boy stopped dancing immediately, and Cordelia almost fell over.
“Hey!” she snapped. “Look where you’re putting your feet! Even if we’re together, you can’t step on mine!”
“Buffy,” Xander said simply. He had watched her from afar, these past few days, and she had looked alone and defeated. But not now. Now he finally saw her for what she was: a natural force, with her roots planted in the darkness. He could only begin to understand. Too much for him. She always had been; too much.
But understanding that didn’t make it any easier to keep away from her.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked her, Cordelia’s loud complaints not even registering on his radar.
“Yes,” she answered, and wrapped her arms around his neck. In the background, a boy-band was singing about broken promises.
“I was so stupid,” Xander said. “I got on my high horse just because I thought you had betrayed me. I didn’t even try to understand.”
“There was nothing to understand,” she said. “It wasn’t destined, Xander. Your ex-girlfriend didn’t even know what she could do.”
“And do you know now?”
“Not completely…I think. I just want to…to be friends again. I need a friend, Xan…I’m so alone.”
“I know. Everything’s resting on your shoulders.”
Buffy closed her eyes. If Xander only knew…
“Hey, hey!” Cordy interrupted. “You’re not making an exhibition of yourself with my guy!”
“You’re right,” Buffy replied. “I’m not.”
“Buffy!” Willow interrupted. “A vampire is about to attack a girl! Up there on the gallery!”
Buffy took advantage of this unexpected turn of events to put off thinking about her problems: nothing better than a clear line between good and evil to cheer her up…
The girl had her back to them, and she was dancing, sexily, shaking her perfect tight butt in a pair of leather trousers. She had two tattoos: one on her arm and the other on her shoulder. The man next to her…the thing that danced next to her...was slowly approaching her alluring white neck, outlined by her black top.
Buffy stopped suddenly, arms crossed.
“Hey, Buffy!” Xander said in a low voice. “He’ll bite her if you don’t do something…”
“I really think that…” Willow had no time to finish her sentence. The brunette took a stake from her trousers and, with an agile turn, dusted the vampire.
“Wow…” Xander whispered, staring at the plunging neckline of that delicious, sinful example of female sexuality. Eyes as dark as hell, a sweet angel face, cream colored skin, full lips accentuated by the red lipstick, and long dark hair.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and declare there’s another slayer in town,” said Oz.
“Hey, B.!” the brunette laughed. “I didn’t know you came to this pigsty too. Fuck, what a refined clientele!”
“What the hell do you want? Are you just asking for trouble?” Buffy inquired, her voice hard.
“No…I just want to dance,” Faith replied. “Maybe…with you, since that good looking guy has left you all alone. Girls don’t like to be alone.”
The gang’s glances slid from one slayer to the other, the brunette and then the blonde, as if they were spectators at a tennis match.
“OK, let’s dance,” said Buffy, and she was more surprised than the others by her reply.
Faith approached and offered her hand. Buffy took it. They began to sway, following the rhythm, and soon became the principal attraction at the club. Small, slim; both gorgeous, sexy and lethal. One was bright, refined and elegant; the other one vibrated with a dark sensuality. A well realized wet dream.
“Wow,” Xander repeated.
Willow was speechless. Just like Xander, and all the other people watching the two dancing slayers - who were dripping pheromones like April rain- she was in a trance.
Buffy…one, two lovers…and now this?!
“Bitches!” replied Cordelia, and offended, she left the club.
When the music finished, Faith approached Buffy and kissed her on the forehead.
“See you next time, sister. You can really shake your booty …it’s obvious you’ve been well trained.”
Frozen in place, Buffy let her go.
Yeah, they would meet again. And soon.


Faith got back to the residence two hours (and a couple of unsatisfying humps) later. There was nothing more disappointing than frat guys: a lot of beer, little endurance and less imagination.
Darla was giving herself a manicure on a big burgundy leather sofa.
“Don’t tell me. The little girl managed not to get killed tonight. How far have you got to go along this path of self-destruction…”
“Talking to me?”, Faith mumbled. “Even if we live together, you’re still a vampire to me…and that means I’ll always be able to stake you…when I want.”
“Down, baby,” Darla replied. “When I found you, you were as alone as a stray dog. White trash, if ever I saw it. You are able to kill, and I’m able to keep you warm, well dressed, with a brand new Playstation and everything you want. I think we’re equal.”
“Don’t be easy on me, Darla,” said Faith, her eyes becoming darker.
Darla smiled.
“C’m on, do you want to relax a bit?”
Faith looked at her. The evening had been long and…frustrating. Except for her dance with the other slayer, B. But she didn’t want to tell the blonde vampire about that. She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt it would be unfair to do that.
She knew what Darla was offering her. And she had no more doubts when she saw the vampire unlacing her top.
It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Darla pulled Faith’s head to her breast, and she bared her teeth. The dark-haired slayer wouldn’t deny her blood, she was sure about that, and that precious elixir was more satisfying to her than any orgasm. Yes, in a way she could understand what Angelus wanted from that insupportable and insipid blonde idiot. To be honest, she couldn’t think about anything else.
Faith satisfied her, taking off her T-shirt and proffering a breast to Darla: she didn’t want vampire bites where they could be seen; that would ruin her reputation.
While Darla was satisfying her, in the same way she had satisfied Drusilla for decades, Faith closed her eyes and thought about the slim, lithe body of the other slayer…B. About their fight, about their dance.
Oh, yeah, soon…


“The sun has risen again,” Buffy told herself, as she headed to Giles’ office early in the morning. Last night’s dreams were just that: dreams. Her saving Angelus. Her dancing with Faith as if they were making love.
Dreams.
Yeah, tell that to yourself, slayer.
Buffy stopped. How long had her conscience spoken with Spike’s deep and rhythmic tone of voice?
She looked around, almost sure of seeing him again…despite her reason telling her he had died in that unholy church, as a demon like him deserved.
But her instinct didn’t lie. Spike is still alive, she told herself, and so is Angelus. And it’s not yet over.
But in the daylight she could believe more easily that she was safe. Joyce had come back, Xander was still her friend, she was going round with the Scoobies again, and – apparently - everything was like before.
Almost.
On her way to school, she had looked mechanically up at the bedroom at 1628 Revello Drive. The windows were open and a middle-aged woman was airing the rooms. It looked as if Angelus had disappeared, faded away like a nightmare.
Wounded inside, Buffy told herself it was better that way. It had to be better that way. Even if she was devastated by the emptiness she felt in her heart.
But now she was in the light. And she wanted to stay there.
She burst into the library.
“I’m ready, Mr. Giles,” she said to her watcher. “Ready for anything. Train me, teach me! I mean…do your job…”
“Hey, hey, mystery lady!” Xander interrupted. He was doing research with Cordelia on a new threat: the sudden disappearance of puppies in Sunnydale’s rich precincts. The huge volume “Ritual Sacrifices: origins and modalities” was open in front of them. “Tell us about your friend…the one who danced with you…yesterday evening…at the Bronze…you made the eyes of half of Sunnydale’s male population pop out!”
“Bitches,” Cordelia added with a smile.
“Buffy…what on earth are they talking about?”
Buffy blushed. Recently everything she did seemed to give her trouble. Spike and Angelus were enough, and Faith was another complication…
“Yesterday, at the Bronze, I met Faith, the new slayer. She killed a vampire…and that’s all.”
“No, that’s not all, Mr. Giles!” Xander insisted “They…”
“Shut up, Xander,” said Willow, coming in with new books. “That’s not relevant…”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t know what a stiffie…” mumbled Xander, and Cordelia gave him another nasty look.
Giles raised his eyes to the sky for the thousandth time.
“You…you socialized with the new slayer? Did you ask her why she was working with Darla?”
“No…I…she left.”
“Ah!” Giles stated. “You should have tried harder, Buffy. You can’t imagine how dangerous Darla is. She is really ancient; the Master himself made her a vampire: at that time she was a prostitute and he saved her. She was dying of syphilis. And Darla is…”
“Angelus’ sire,” Buffy said, immediately repenting.
Giles looked at her, mouth open. “And how do you know that?”
“It was written in the book you gave me.”
“Angelus and Darla have lived together, even if not continuously, for more than two centuries. So, I’m surprised that they’re no longer allies, but enemies. Maybe there was some misunderstanding…”
“They lived together?” Buffy asked. “You mean…like lovers?”
“Yes, of course…I can’t understand why this surprises you so much. That kind of relationship is quite common among vampires. Like Spike and Drusilla, for example.”
“Mr. Giles, I don’t think they died in that church.”
“Nor do I,” Giles admitted. “Now we have four powerful vampires, connected to each other by bonds of blood and affection and by a long cohabitation…it seems that together they threatened all five continents for decades. They are the Aurelius Order, Buffy…the Master’s progeny. You couldn’t choose enemies more dangerous than they are…and don’t forget the bad slayer…Faith.”
“What should we do?”
“First of all, we’ll try to find out as much as we can about them. And we’ll hunt for their shelters. Presumably, Spike, Drusilla and Angelus - if they’re still alive - are together. Regarding Darla…I’m asking myself who can be helping her and Faith: they had weapons, followers, powerful cars. Someone must be giving them money…and if they’re trying to destroy the other three vampires, maybe it is better to let them do that…and then we’ll fight them, once we understand who’s behind them.”
“NO!” Buffy cried, instinctively.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“I just wanted to say,” she added, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It would be better to understand their objectives, and then choose a plan.”
“Maybe we don’t have time,” Giles said. “The number of dead and missing is increasing dangerously. These vampires are feeding, Buffy…and I’ve heard they’re assembling an army.”
“But the new slayer killed one of them yesterday evening,” Willow noted. “Maybe her aim is as noble as Buffy’s …”
Buffy wanted to laugh, but she stopped herself. Noble?
“Joining with such a monster as Darla?” Giles replied, skeptical. “I don’t think we can expect nobility from a four hundred year old vampire.”
Buffy smiled. “Well, we’ll find out. I’ll patrol some more, and you’ll help me. And tonight I’ll go to Willy’s asking for news. But you have to train me, Mr. Giles. The fight will be really hard.”
“All right,” Giles replied, looking at her as if for the first time. She seemed so different…
She smiled, and, melancholically, enjoyed that last moment of normality. She was with her watcher and her friends, and they were on the right side.
"How long would it last? How much longer could the darkness wait, before it took her completely?"





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