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Chapter 20

"Dawn Summers?"

Dawn leapt from her chair in the ER waiting room as soon as the doctor called her name, the others a few steps behind. "Is she okay?"

The doctor's face said it all. "Your sister's very sick, Miss Summers, she's suffering from acute septicaemia."

"Septi-what?"

"Blood poisoning. The cuts on her back are badly infected, and the bacteria have spread into her bloodstream. I have to ask; the wounds were stitched up, but we've got no record of her being here recently. Who treated her?"

"I did." Giles said quietly. "Buffy didn't want to come here. I was sure I'd cleaned the wounds thoroughly." Or did I get distracted by the way Faith was touching her?

For a moment the doctor looked angry, but then her expression shifted to one of resignation. "For what it's worth, I think you did. We could barely find any trace of the original infectious material, but what was there was..." She shook her head in disbelief. "I've never seen a microbe count that high outside of a lab experiment. Whatever attacked her must have been standing in something absolutely foul."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Dawn's voice was rising, panic seeping in.

"I think so. I'm not going to lie to you, I can't be sure of anything at this point. Looking at the pathogen levels in her blood, I'm amazed your sister's even alive, but she's still fighting and we're going to help her do that. We're giving her medicine to control the fever and antibiotics to fight the infection, and we'll be moving her up to an isolation room soon to keep any other infections away from her. That's all we can do for now, except wait."

"Can we stay with her?"

"Yes, you just have to observe some basic precautions, you'll have to wear face-masks and gloves. Isolation's really more about keeping the infectious patients isolated from each other. I'll get one of the nurses to show you where to go."

"Thanks."

It was Faith who broke the silence after the doctor left them. "Okay, here's the plan. Xander, can you stay here with Dawn, make sure she's okay?"

"Sure."

"Good. Everyone else, back to the Magic Box, we've got to find this bitch before B's on her feet again."

"Faith, I agree we should kill this demon as a matter of urgency," Giles said cautiously, "and I'm sure we all appreciate your enthusiasm, but it's hardly wise to rush into this."

"Think about it, Giles. You know B, she'll go after this thing as soon as she can walk again, just to prove she can. Let's not give her the option. You guys hit the research, I'll meet you there after I get some stuff from the house."

"Anyone would think you actually care," Willow muttered. She didn't even see Faith move. One moment she was standing there, the next she had Willow pinned against the wall with her hand around the witch's throat.

"Don't fuck with me today, Red! I'm not in the mood!" Faith dropped her and stormed away, brushing aside a security guard as she went.

"You're telling me she's not still a psycho?" Willow growled, rubbing her bruised throat.

"It serves you right for baiting her at a time like this." Giles retorted, looking at her with genuine anger. "Come on, we've got work to do."

---

Willow pointed to a spot on the map. "What about Dracula's castle? It's been abandoned for over a year now."

Giles considered it for a moment. "It's isolated, high up with a good view over the town. We'll add it to the list. Well remembered, Willow." He circled it on the map.

"That makes, what, ten possibilities already?" Anya asked.

Tara consulted her notebook. "Thirteen, and we've only been working a half-hour."

"We have to find some way of narrowing down the options, some kind of favoured nest site, or we'll be checking them for weeks." Giles walked over to the counter and began looking through the books piled on top.

After a moment, Willow joined him. "Giles?" Her voice was no more than a nervous whisper.

"Yes?"

"About what happened, at the hospital... I'm sorry." She looked over her shoulder at Tara and Anya, making sure they weren't listening. "It's just Faith, she gets under my skin, makes me say things, do things. I can't help myself."

"Willow, I appreciate that your history with Faith is rather fraught, but surely you can see the effort she's made over the last six months?"

"I don't trust her, Giles. I can't, not after what happened last time." There was a touch of desperation in Willow's voice, almost as though she was begging him to understand. "I liked her, I felt sorry for her, but she betrayed us all, and now she's living in Buffy's house? Buffy's just lost her mom, and Riley, I don't think she's being careful enough with who she lets in."

"You have to have faith, if you'll pardon the pun. Let yourself see the changes. Buffy's-" Giles stopped short as a car door slammed shut outside the shop. A moment later the front door banged open and Faith walked inside. For a moment, everyone stared at her in shock. The neutral colours she'd been so careful to wear since her return were gone, replaced by combat boots, black jeans, a crimson T-shirt and a black three-quarter length leather coat, with a sports bag slung over one shoulder.

"Oh yeah, she's really changed," muttered Willow as Faith strode across the shop floor. She didn't so much as look at any of them, she just crossed to the training room and disappeared inside.

Giles waited for a minute and then followed her. She'd already taken several weapons from their racks on the wall, and as Giles walked in, she took down a throwing axe, flipped it up into the air to test its balance, and put it and several like it into the bag.

"Faith, please, listen to me. I can see how much this has upset you, but rushing into the hunt won't solve anything. We should gather more-"

"Did you find the nest yet?" Faith pulled a short sword from its scabbard and examined the edge.

"No, but-"

"The why aren't you reading something?" Faith slammed the sword back into its sheath, slung the bag of weapons over her shoulder and took an eight-foot spear down from the wall.

She was almost at the door before Giles regained his wits enough to follow her. "Faith, wait, where are you going?"

"Just do your job, Giles, let me worry about mine."

---

Willy had never really understood why the demon population seemed to stay home on Sundays. Not that he was complaining; he might not take a lot of money on a night like this, but at least it was quiet. He took a moment to survey tonight's clientele. Two vampires, a hulking N'lquith and a pair of Phrexan Gnawers picking over a plate of bones.

One of the vampires decided to call it a night and tossed a couple of tattered banknotes onto the bar to settle his tab. "Be seein' ya, Willy."

"Yeah, drive safe, Carl." Willy's attention was already back on wiping the surface of the bar when by the time Carl pulled the door open and was sent flying backwards to land on one of the cheap tables, which crumpled under the impact. Faith stalked through the door and kicked it shut behind her.

Oh crap! Willy's blood ran cold at the expression on her face. "S-S-Slayer! What brings you to my humble establishment? I-Is your friend with you?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Please, God, let the sane one be here!

"Nah, just me tonight. Looking for some info."

The other vampire, who had been sitting in one of the booths at the far end of the bar, tried to slip out through the back door, but had barely made it half way when Faith snatched a throwing axe from her belt and sent it spinning across the room. The vampire collapsed against the wall, clutching at the axe embedded in its leg and groaning. Faith 's voice was cold. "I didn't say anyone could leave."

The N'lquith snarled defiance at her, the fringe of clawed tentacles around its mouth flaring. Willy recognised the display as a challenge and tried to control the situation. "Come on, Slayer, we don't any trouble tonight, do we guys? It's Sunday, it's God's day, you know, peace and goodwill and-"

"Shut up, Willy." Faith's eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on each of the demons in turn. "I'm looking for a harpy - wings, claws, big tits, you know what I'm talking about? The bitch hurt someone I care about, and I'm guessing one of you assholes knows something that'll help me find it."

The N'lquith's snarl deepened to a roar and it began advancing on her, the Gnawers following after a moment's hesitation. Faith whipped a short sword from under her coat. Willy's eyes flicked between the enraged demon and the Slayer, and he dove for cover under the bar.

There was a crash of breaking furniture, followed by the sound of fists striking flesh. The Gnawers high-pitched squeals blended with the N'lquith's roar, and then came an agonised scream. Willy grabbed the shotgun he'd bought when he first opened the bar and barely looked at since. It wasn't even loaded - the unopened box of cartridges sat on the shelf beside the gun. Willy got the box open, but his fingers were trembling so badly that the cartridges kept slipping from his grasp.

Everything suddenly went quiet. There was a moment when all Willy could hear was his own panicked breathing, then came the sound of footsteps crunching on broken glass, getting closer to the bar. He finally got a cartridge into the gun and was fumbling for another when he heard the footsteps reach the bar and stepped up onto it. A hand reached down, fastened around his throat and jerked him upwards. The shotgun fell from his grasp as he was lifted from his hiding place, choking in the inhumanly strong grip, and slammed down onto the bar, the side of his head striking with such force that stars danced in front of his eyes. An instant after his vision cleared, the tip of a sword was stabbed into the wood an inch from his nose, blood from the blade spattering his face.

"Just you and me now." Faith's voice came from just behind his ear, but he couldn't turn his head to look at her. "Time to talk."

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, please don't hurt me!" Willy's voice was almost a shriek.
"I don't know anything, I swear!"

"Not what I want to hear, Willy." Faith flipped him over onto his back and sat down straddling his chest. Willy almost screamed when he saw her face; one side was covered with a mask of blood from a cut on her forehead, but there was fire in her eyes. "You've got your little rat nose into everything demonic that happens in this town, so spill it!"

"I swear to God, any god, no-one's said anything about a harpy in town! You gotta believe me!"

"Tick, tock, tick, tock..." Faith pulled the sword free from the bar and began swinging it like a pendulum in front of Willy's eyes.

"Please! I'll do anything, I'll talk to every demon in Sunnydale if I have to, I'll find out where this thing is, just please don't kill me!"

Faith didn't respond for a moment, she just stared down at the snivelling bartender beneath her. "You hear something, you call me, got it? The house, the magic shop, wherever. And don't try to run," She rested the tip of the sword on his nose, applying just enough pressure to bring a droplet of blood welling to the surface, "You don't want to make me hunt you down." In one smooth movement she stood up and jumped off the bar, leaving Willy gasping for breath in her wake.

---

Buffy looked almost peaceful, if the array of machines monitoring her pulse, her temperature, feeding her with drugs and fluids could be ignored. The only outward sign of her torment was the sweat gleaming on her brow. Every so often there would be a flicker of movement behind her eyelids as her mind moved from one fevered dreamscape to another, but otherwise she lay still.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?"

"Sure she is, she'll back home bugging you about your homework in no time." Xander put his arm around Dawn's shoulders. "The docs just need a while to do their thing, but they'll get her up and running again."

"Assuming they get the chance." They both jumped as Spike opened the door. "How is she?"

Dawn managed to smile at him. "She's got septi... sep..."

"I know what's wrong with her, Bit, I could smell the taint as soon as I got out of the elevator. I asked how she's doing."

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Xander recovered from his surprise and anger enough to speak.

"Word's out, monkeyboy, there's a sickly Slayer lying here all helpless and ripe for the plucking. Half the demons in town know about it already and the rest'll have heard by dawn."

"So you thought you'd come down and play the white knight?" Xander scoffed, closing to with inches of Spike. "I don't think so. Buffy's been here like this before, and we didn't need help to keep her safe. You're not needed, and you're not welcome."

"Listen, pinhead, you may have got Angelus to back off, but what if this time it's an eight-foot Hadro demon that doesn't speak English. Then what're you going to do, bleed on him?"

"Stop it!" Dawn's anger couldn't fully conceal the added misery she felt at seeing them at each other's throats. "What if she hears you? If you want to fight, do it somewhere else."

"I don't want him here," Xander insisted, not willing to back down.

"It's not about what you want Xander," Dawn replied. "It's about what's best for Buffy, and the more people are looking out for her, the better. Spike can stay."

"Relax, mate, I'm not going to steal your lunch money." Spike pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from them and sat down.

---

Spike was still there when Willow arrived the following morning, slumped in his chair, well away from the sunlight filtering through the blinds. "Spike! You're here, i-in daylight?"

"Came in last night, sat with Dawn and the demon-magnet for a bit. The light's not too bad right now." Spike glanced at the window, a joyless smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before returning his gaze to the pale figure in the bed. "Might sting a bit later, when the sun moves round."

"How's Dawn holding up?"

"How do you think? Her dad's forgotten she exists and her sister's in the same place their mother visited on the way to her grave."

"Buffy's not going to die. She's sick, I know, but I checked her chart before I came in. Her temperature's stopped climbing, heart rate and respiration are stable, she's holding her own."

"She's not getting any better, though, is she? She's not winning."

"Well, no, not yet, but it's been less than a day since she came in. It's just going to take a bit of time, that's all."

"Don't count on it, Red." Spike didn't bother trying to hide his despair. "She's giving up. She's tired of it, the violence, the pain, all of it." Just like I told her.

"Don't say that!" Willow was torn between anger at what Spike had said and fear that he might be right. "Buffy's going to be fine! She doesn't give up, she just... stumbles once in a while, and she always gets back up."

"I hope you're right, Willow. God, I hope you're right." This is no way for a Slayer to go.

"Of course I'm right." Willow insisted, laying her hand on his shoulder. "I'm knowledge-girl, remember? I'm always right."

Spike looked up at her and rubbed away a tear. "Thanks, Pet."

"Any time." Willow gave his shoulder a final squeeze before letting go. "Look, why don't you take for a few hours. Get some sleep, something to eat."

"I'm all right," Spike snapped, then tried to cover it with false nonchalance. "Don't think I could eat anything anyway. The smell's put me right off. Bad blood, sticks in the nose."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Spike. Buffy'll be okay until you get back. She won't be alone, I promise."

It wasn't the words themselves so much as the sympathy with which they were spoken that convinced him. "What about you? Will you be alone?"

"Tara's coming soon. She just had to talk to her T.A. about something first."

"Life goes on, eh?" A trace of bitterness ran through Spike's voice, but he seemed to pull himself together. "Look after her, love, I'll be back soon."

For a while after he left, Willow sat in the chair he'd vacated and just watched her friend, listened to the faint sound of her breathing and the beeps and clicks of the machines around her. The stillness of the room lent the sounds a hypnotic quality, and Willow practically jumped out of her seat when a nurse came in to check on Buffy's condition. "Oh, hello. Did your friend leave?"

"Yeah, it's my turn now. Has she woken up at all?"

"No, she's still out of it. We're giving her a mild sedative, anyway. It'll help her focus on healing. Sometimes she says something, a few words, but it's just the fever talking."

"Can I touch her?" Willow realised how that sounded as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and clarified, "Hold her hand or something?"

The nurse stifled laugh at the embarrassed look on Willow's face. "Sure, sweetie, just remember to change your gloves if you leave the room, okay?"

Willow stayed in the chair for a few minutes after the nurse left, then she slipped on a pair of the gloves and sat on the edge of the bed, holding one of Buffy's hands in both of hers. "Hurry back, okay? There's so much that's been happening, and ever since Faith came back it feels like you're slipping away. I need my best friend." She reached out to push a stray lock of hair from Buffy's forehead.

"...Faith..."

Willow froze, her fingertips almost brushing Buffy's skin, as the name slipped past her friend' lips. "Buffy? Can you hear me? It's me, it's Willow."

Beads of sweat began to form on Buffy's forehead. The sound of the heart-monitor began to speed up, mirroring her accelerating heart rate. She suddenly flicked her head to one side, her face tight with pain. "... stop... please..."

"Buffy, it's okay. You're safe, Faith can't hurt you." Try as she might, Willow couldn't keep her voice calm. She reached out to cradle Buffy's head in her hand, to provide some kind of reassuring touch, but inside she felt helpless.

"... wait... please... don't..." Buffy twisted her head away, breaking the contact, writhing from side to side as though trying to escape.

What is she doing to you? She won't get away with it this time! I'll tear the flesh from her bones, I'll-

"... don't leave me... need you..."

Willow recoiled, jerking up from the bed as though she'd been dragged upright by an invisible hand, as Buffy finally lay still. She slumped back into her chair, her head in her hands. She's done it. She's taken you away again.

The door clicked open and Tara burst in, flushed and breathless. "I've got an idea!"

---

It was the silence that Dawn hated the most. Ever since her mother had died, the house had seemed quieter, as though her passing had left a hole in the air that had yet to be filled. For a while after Glory's defeat, Faith had brought some life back into their home, but even that had faded, and now, with Buffy away, it was worse than ever.

Dawn dropped her school bag by the door walked through into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink; Faith barely came home for long enough to eat, let alone clean up, and Dawn simply couldn't muster the will to do anything so mundane. She was trying to decide what to do about the rumbling in her stomach when she heard the distinctive clatter of Faith's boots on the stairs. Slamming the fridge door shut, Dawn ran to intercept her. Faith was already at the door, pulling her jacket on. She had bandage on her hand and a string of bloody bruises across her knuckles.

"What happened?" Dawn pointed to the injuries.

"Demon didn't want to talk to me," Faith replied, as though it didn't matter. "I just came back to clean up."

"You're going again?"

"Haven't found a harpy yet, so yeah."

"I was hoping you'd stay for a while, maybe have dinner with me?" Dawn said hopefully. "I'll make pizza, without anchovies."

"Sorry, Bite- Dawn. I'm sorry, Dawn, I've got to keep searching."

"Faith, please," Dawn begged. "I don't want to be on my own. Stay with me?"

"I can't." Faith opened the door and bolted.

---

Footsteps, doors, muted voices; the hospital corridor seemed quiet, anyone who stopped to listen for a moment would realise that there were noises everywhere. None of it mattered. None of it penetrated Faith's consciousness. The only sound she heard was a slow, regular 'beep', muffled by its passage through the door, which came from the equipment monitoring Buffy's vital signs.

"You can go in, you know."

Faith jumped as Giles spoke, just behind her. "God, Giles, you scared the crap out of me!"

"My apologies, I assumed you heard me coming," Giles said, looking through the window at the unconscious Slayer inside. "As I said, you can go inside and sit with her."

"I can't," Faith replied, too quickly, with a shake of the head so fast it seemed like a convulsion. "I can't be that close to her, not like this. Look at her, Giles, it's just tubes and machines. It's not her. It's not Buffy. She shouldn't be like this."

Giles turned to face her, taking in the bloodshot, dark-rimmed eyes, the lank hair, the pale skin. "When did you last sleep?"

"Couple of hours yesterday."

"You used to be a better liar."

"Thanks, I think."

"Faith..."

"Don't." Faith's head dropped, her eyes staring at the floor. "How can I sleep when she's like this?"

"Faith, it isn't your fault that this happened."

"Yes, it is!" She turned on him, tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes. "I screwed up again, Giles. We were patrolling together, but we started fighting. I was doing the whole storming off thing when we got attacked. If B hadn't said something to make me turn around, I never would have seen it coming. As it was, I saw the damn thing too late. I was supposed to be watching her back, but I didn't do my job, and now she's here, she... she could be..."

"She isn't going to die," Giles said firmly. "She's getting the necessary treatment, and she's a Slayer. It's only a matter of time before she recovers. At the moment, I'm more worried about you. You seem determined to work yourself into the ground."

"Spare me the lecture, Giles, I don't want to hear it." Faith snapped, turning to leave.

"Everyone has their limit, Faith," Giles called after her. "You've barely stopped for four days. How much longer can you keep this up?"

Faith rounded on him. "As long as it takes to find this thing!"

"And then what? There won't be any point finding the harpy if you're too tired to fight it." His voice returning to its usual measured tone, Giles laid a paternal hand on her shoulder and tried to make her understand. "I know how strong an influence guilt can be, but right now Buffy and Dawn need you alive and healthy, not bleeding to death in a demon's lair. They need you to do what's right, not what makes you feel better."

"What if I can't?"

"Fake it." Giles couldn't help grinning at the look of shock his words provoked. "That's what I do."

"You're kidding!"

Giles shook his head, growing serious again. "Faith, we all experience moments of weakness, times when we feel we can't do what's expected of us. I find that if you act as though you're equal to the task, others will believe it, and their belief will help you through. Can you do that?"

"Maybe." Faith visibly pulled herself together. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Come on, everyone's gathering at the Magic Box to compare notes. Spike will be here soon to keep an eye on Buffy."

---

"Maybe we should test it again, just to be sure?" Tara held the vial up to the light again, looking through the clear blue liquid as though searching for a sign of impurity. Willow quickly wrapped both her hands around Tara's and carefully guided it back down to the research table.

"We tested it three times, Tara, it's safe. It may not do anything, but it's safe."

"What is that stuff?" Anya asked, staring suspiciously at the vial.

"It's-" Willow began, but was interrupted by Giles and Faith entering the shop. Giles joined them at the table, but didn't sit down. Faith just leaned against the counter, not looking at anyone.

"Thank you all for coming," Giles began, removing his glasses and reaching for his handkerchief. "Does anyone have anything to report?"

"Body." Xander's voice was flat and emotionless, the voice of someone trying very hard not to care. "My crew found her at the site this morning. Middle-aged woman, looked like she'd been walking her dog when the harpy got her. The leash was still in her hand."

"You're sure it was the harpy?" Giles asked, although he knew Xander wouldn't have mentioned it unless he was.

"I've seen enough of the pictures. Either it was the harpy or we've got a copycat."

"Damn!" Faith pushed away from the counter and began pacing. "The new Hellmouth High claims its first victim, and the place isn't even open yet. How many's this?"

"Eight. Pretty soon even Sunnydale people are going to figure out something's happening." Willow couldn't make herself smile at her own joke.

Faith just nodded. "Tell me you got something, guys."

Willow and Tara looked at each other for a moment, then Willow said, "We've been working on something, but it's not exactly to do with the harpy-"

"What?" Faith's shout practically rattled the windows. "What the hell are you doing wasting your time when-"

"It's for Buffy!" Willow cut her off, green eyes burning with anger.

Faith stopped dead in her tracks, all the momentum snatched from her. "Oh. Sorry. I'm sorry, guys, I'm wound kinda tight right now."

"It's okay, Faith, I understand." Tara replied, accompanied with one of her gentle smiles.

Giles finally took a seat, looking intently at the two witches. "Willow, what exactly have you been doing?"

"Giles, I know you said last year that magic and medicine don't mix, but I think we've come up with something that'll work. Have you ever heard of the Tears Of Purity?" Giles shook his head, and Willow continued. "It's a spell, well, more of a potion really. Anyway, it's used to purify water, get rid of the bugs, you know? Blood's basically water with things floating in it, so we thought, maybe we could use it to clean out Buffy's blood. We tinkered with the spell a bit and we came up with this." She held up the vial.

Giles took the vial and examined the liquid inside. "Well, it's certainly an innovative idea, but how can you be sure it's safe?"

"We tested it, Giles, it's fine."

"Tested it?" It was Giles turn to get angry. "You mean you exposed yourselves to an elixir that could have killed every blood cell in your body?"

"What? No! We took some blood samples and tested it on them." Willow was rather offended. "It didn't seem to do anything, but then our blood isn't full of bacteria. It's not like we're talking about zapping a tumour out of someone's head, Giles," she continued, a pleading tone entering her voice, "It's just an injection. Worst case, it doesn't do anything, and maybe it'll help."

Giles looked at the vial again, turning it this way and that, the liquid inside sparkling in the light. Finally, he handed it back to Willow. "Very well, Willow. I don't see the harm in trying it. Good work."

Willow blushed slightly. "It was Tara's idea really, I just helped with the research."

The phone rang. Giles looked at it in surprise for a moment, then went to answer it. "Hello, Magic Box - what? I'm sorry, could you slow down... oh. Yes, she's here." He held the handset out to Faith. "Willy would like to speak with you, he seems somewhat excited."

"Thanks." Faith took the handset. "What've you got, Willy?"

"First of all, I just want to make it clear that I'm not holding any grudges about what happened, the damage, the nose-slitting thing. I'm not even going to send you the dry-cleaning bill for my pants, so-"

"Now, Willy!"

"Okay, okay. Jeez, what is it with you Slayers? You're always so impatient. Look, I think I've found where your harpy's hiding out. There's a house, the roof caved in after the quake we had back in '97, never got fixed. There was a nest of Paknar demons that lived there, but they disappeared last week. I've got some guys saying they left town in a hurry, and they've seen something with wings hanging around out there."

"Where's the house?" Faith gestured to Giles for pen and paper. "Okay, got it, I'll check it out. This better not be an ambush, Willy, I'm pissed enough as it is." She hung up before he could reply. "What's a Paknar demon?"

"Scavengers, carrion eaters," replied Giles. "Why?"

"Willy says a group of them went AWOL right around the time the harpy showed up."

"That would make sense. The smell of rotting meat would attract the harpy, and Paknars, even a number of them, would be no match for one of the Three Sisters. They're about as inoffensive as demons get, if you don't mind occasional body-snatching."

"Sounds like an honest-to-god lead," Faith mused, re-reading the address. "Anyone know how I get to this place?"

Xander answered. "Yeah, it's at the south end of Crawford Street, off on the left."

"Crawford Street." Faith's voice caught in her throat.

"Might as well call it memory lane, huh?"

---

Eyes on the road, eyes on the road...

It didn't help, just as she'd known it wouldn't. Faith could no more keep herself from looking at the mansion than she could keep her own heart from beating. It dragged her eyes from the darkening street ahead, raising ghosts that had never truly been laid to rest.

Faith, a word of advice: you're an idiot!

To kill without remorse is to feel like a god.

By the order of the Watcher's Council of Britain I am exercising my authority and removing you to England, where you will accept the judgement of the disciplinary committee.

I think we know everything she knows.

Psych!

Kill me, you become me. You're not ready for that - yet.

She pressed down on the accelerator, urging the Jeep past the overgrown garden and on to her target.

The house was a two-story colonial-style structure, the collapsed roof and discoloured walls making it look like a rotten tooth silhouetted against the evening sky. Faith got out of the Jeep, slung her bag of weapons over her shoulder, loaded her crossbow and moved in.

---

The fluorescent lights made Buffy's skin look even more pallid and unhealthy than it was. Tara put her bag down on a chair and quickly retrieved the vial and a sterile syringe from an inside pocket. She handed them to Willow. "Could you? I'm not good with needles."

"Sure. Keep a lookout, make sure no-one's coming."

"Right. Good luck."

"Yeah." Willow pushed the needle through the vial's rubber cap and began drawing out the blue liquid.

"All clear," whispered Tara from the doorway.

"Okay, then." Willow took a deep breath and began injecting the potion through the IV running into Buffy's arm.

---

The attack came with almost no warning, just a rustling of feathers that sent Faith diving headlong to the ground. The harpy swept over her and was coming around for another attack as Faith got to her feet. She raised her crossbow and fired, but the hurried shot barely clipped the demon's wing and did no damage except to dislodge a few feathers. It did, however, convince the harpy to pull up, soaring overhead. Faith considered trying to reload, but already the harpy was arcing down for a third strike. Guess this must be the place.

---

"Are you feeling okay, Willow?" Tara asked as they waited, or hoped, for a reaction from Buffy.

It took a moment for the question to register with Willow, her concentration as so focussed. "Sorry, what?"

"W-well, it's just that you seem a bit calmer now, more relaxed, since we did the spell."

Willow thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. I guess, maybe... Is it the spell?"

"It could be," Tara said, thoughtfully. "Sometimes doing a purification spell can help to purify the caster, get rid of any negative energy surrounding them. You have been kind of cranky the last few weeks."

"I know, I'm sorry." Sorrier than you'll ever know.

Buffy groaned, distracting them both. The readings on the machines around her began to change, her temperature climbing, her heart rate accelerating. The ever-present film of sweat on her skin deepened, droplets of fluid forming all over, streaming down her face and soaking into the surgical robe she was wearing, and her body was racked with a series of convulsions.

Oh God, what did we do?

---

Faith burst through the door in a cloud of dust and splinters. She could hear the harpy screeching its frustration outside. Slinging the crossbow over her shoulder, she pulled an axe from her bag and began looking around the house. Let's see what you're protecting.

The ground floor was a putrid mess of rubble, refuse and animal remains, and it didn't take Faith long to head upstairs. The staircase creaked alarmingly, but was largely intact she didn't see any signs of collapsing under her weight.

About half of the roof was left in place, though most of it was sagging so much that Faith was sure it would collapse if she breathed too hard. There was a flash of movement overhead, and she realised that the harpy was flying in tight circles around the house, still screaming at her, moving too fast to get a good shot with the crossbow.

"Get down here, bitch! Afraid to take on someone who sees you coming? Come on!" Faith's taunts made no difference. She dropped the weapons bag, pulled back the string of the crossbow and was reaching for an arrow when she saw the nest, almost invisible in a shadowed corner, and the three mottled eggs it contained.

Gotcha!

---

"What do we do? Should we get a doctor?" Willow was teetering on the edge of complete panic as she watched her friend thrashing about in front of her. The monitors showed Buffy's temperature as being above 106 degrees and her heart rate nearing 200 beats per minute.

The decision was taken out of her hands as a pair of nurses burst through the doors. One of the rushed to try to hold Buffy still while the other stuck his head back out into the corridor and shouted for a doctor.

Suddenly, Buffy wrenched herself free of the nurse's grip, twisted onto her side and vomited a stream of oily green slime onto the floor, then flopped back onto the pillow. Colour began to return to her face as the monitor readings dropped back to their normal range.

---

The egg shattered as the arrow punched through it, the thick fluids inside spilling out and soaking into the garbage that formed the nest. The harpy shrieked its rage and plunged down at Faith, who ducked to the side and swung her axe in an upward arc that almost connected with its leg. She barely had time to turn around before the demon was on her again. Any semblance of caution had been abandoned; the attack was relentless, claws slashing at her stomach one moment and stabbing toward her throat the next. A claw ripped through the sleeve of her jacket, missing her arm by a fraction of an inch. Faith brought the axe up to fend off the assault and suddenly found both sets of claws wrapped around the haft, trying to yank it from her grasp as the fanged mouth snapped at her face. The momentum of the attack knocked her over backwards. She let go of the axe and kicked upwards, knocking the harpy away and giving her time to regain her feet. She heard a clatter as the harpy dropped
the axe, and turned to face the next attack.

There was a crack, and the floor gave way beneath her. For a split second, it felt as though she was suspended in mid air, then she dropped into a pile of refuse in what had been the living room. The landing knock the wind out of her, and it was a few moments before she could move. As she picked herself up, she could see the harpy looking over the edge of the hole she'd made in the ceiling, and she began looking for something she could use as a weapon. Her foot touched something and it shifted, making a metallic scrape.

The harpy spread its wings and inched closer to the edge. In a moment, it would drop through the hole and be on her. Faith dropped down on one knee, snatched up the length of copper piping and flung it upward. The makeshift spear flew through the hole in the ceiling and struck the harpy low down in the abdomen. The demon screamed and toppled backwards, dark blood streaming from the end of the pipe.

Faith ran up the stairs, heedless of the risk of collapse. At the top she snatched up her axe without breaking stride. The harpy had fallen against the remains of a wall and was struggling feebly, unable to right itself with the pipe protruding from its flesh.

Faith raised the axe above her head and brought it down on the demon's body, wrenched the blade free and struck again, and again. Finally, when there was nothing left of the harpy but a bloody ruin, she dropped the axe, wiped the blood from her face and turned away, toward the remaining eggs.

---

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