Kate was alone in the hotel.  When Cordelia had come to, it was to send everyone but Kate and Sarah out after a small gang of vampires.  Kate had offered to go, but Angel told her to stay behind, in case Faith showed up. 

            So instead of running off to slay the bad guys, Kate got to explore the partially refurbished hotel.  Angel was right, of course.  They had gotten more of the rooms fixed up.  There were now enough clean, habitable rooms that all of his friends in both Sunnydale and in Los Angeles could comfortably stay. 

            The old hotel was amazingly decorated, architecturally.  The art deco and art nouveau styles blended beautifully to create a sprawling, near palatial sense of size in the lobby.  A statue of the Greek god Poseidon surrounded by several nymphs dominated the center of a dry marble fountain.  Greco-roman columns surrounded the room, topped by sculptures of men and women in various states of undress.  Some of the statues looked brand new, others were crumbling away.  A ring of leather-upholstered couches surrounded the fountain, and the walls were covered in faded red velvet and oak paneling.  There was a faded opulence to the whole place that made Kate suddenly feel as if she were about to step into a time machine.

            A slight creaking noise caused Kate to look up.  The impossible sight of Sarah, hanging from the wrought iron railing of the upper balcony, doing sit ups caused the former detective’s jaw to drop.

            “Sarah?” she called up to her friend.  “What the hell are you doing?”

            “What,” a sharp intake of breath as the lithely muscled body compacted, “does it look like I’m doing?” she finished as she dropped back down. 

            Kate took the stairs two at a time, racing to get to her friend before something happened.  Oh God, don’t fall, Sarah, please don’t fall…

            “It looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed,” Kate growled when she reached the top of the stairs.  She held out a hand to her friend, waiting.

            Sarah looked at the offered hand, did three more sit ups, and then grabbed the iron bars and flipped over the railing, landing softly on the floor next to Kate.

            The smaller woman looked at her friend’s worry-lined face and smiled mischievously.  “Hey, wanna see me do some more?” 

            Kate blanched.  “You know, I bet Angel’s got a workout room…” she knew the vampire did, indeed, have a room set aside for working out, but she wasn’t exactly certain where it was in the huge old building.

            Sarah chuckled, enjoying herself.  “Nah, this is fine.  You should have seen what I had to work with at the ‘Weeds.”  She swung her arms around a few times, and then dropped to the floor to begin doing push ups.

            Kate watched her friend as she worked out, feeling a tightness in her belly that startled and frightened her.  I am not gay, damn it! she told herself firmly, willing her eyes to look anywhere but at the sweat soaked, muscled back of Sarah Matthews.

            “Yeah, well, Angel wanted me to let you know that you can stay here tonight,” Kate finally said tightly.

            Sarah jumped up and dusted off her hands.  “Great,” she offered her friend a bright smile.  “Just show me where I can park my butt and I’ll be out of your hair for the night.”

            But I don’t want you out of my hair… Kate thought as she led her friend to one of the empty rooms she had found earlier.

%%%

            Faith gripped the steering wheel under her hands and looked out into the darkness.  “Where to?” she asked the spirit next to her.

            Gran smiled at her charge.  “Just a moment, hon, I have to do something first.”  She began to chant softly in a strange, melodic language.  As she chanted, an orangish-yellow glow centered on her right hand growing until the glow became the size of a softball.  When the final word of the chant had been spoken, Gran hurled the glowing ball of energy out into the night. 

            Faith watched in awe as it sped away, zooming across the desert like a deranged firefly. 

            “Follow it,” Gran said encouragingly.

            “Right.  It’s the bouncing ball, I should have known.  Are there going to be corny lyrics, too?” the dark haired slayer chuckled and began to follow the strange guide.

            They drove for at least an hour, though it was hard to tell since the truck’s clock always stopped working whenever Gran was in the vehicle.  And the radio was an intermittent thing.  Right now, it was only static, but that could possibly be because they were out in the middle of nowhere.

            “So you wanna tell me where we’re going, or is it some mysterious surprise that only the swamis know?” Faith asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  Her ribs still hurt from that last kick, and she really wanted to crawl into her sleeping bag and pass out for the night, but something told her that rest was not on Gran’s immediate list of plans.

            “Underhill,” Gran said enigmatically, keeping her eyes on the bouncing ball of energy that hovered just ahead of the truck.

            Faith’s eyebrows shot up.  “Like, as in fairyland?  Am I gonna get stuck there for seven years?”

            “Not if you don’t eat the food,” Gran joked.  They both knew Faith’s growing love of fantasy and science fiction novels, thanks to Cordelia’s secret obsession with them.  “What was she reading you last?” Gran asked softly, trying to draw the young slayer out.

            “Something about telepathic horses and some crazy folks in white,” Faith said, going on to describe the book that Cordelia had been reading to her every night.  That was, until she had kicked Faith out.  “Guess I’ll never know if he gets the guy or not, now,” Faith said glumly, thinking about the two main characters of the book who had been mooning over each other for most of the novel. 

            “You never know,” Gran said mysteriously.  “You might surprise yourself.”

            They came to a full stop as Faith noticed their guide had plastered itself against a flat rock face of a mountainside.  “I guess this is the end of the road.  What now?” she asked, turning to look at the spirit.

            “Do you trust me?” Gran asked seriously.

            Faith thought hard about that.  “I guess so,” she finally said perplexedly.  “Why?”

            “Keep going forward then.  Close your eyes if you have to, but don’t stop until I say so,” Gran said firmly.

            Faith swallowed.  “I guess this is where you tell me that driving my truck into the side of a mountain is going to help the world somehow?”  She stared down at her hands, which were clutching the steering wheel tightly. 

            “Something like that,” Gran admitted softly. 

            “So I never had a chance, did I?” Faith whispered.  “I was deluding myself all along, thinking I could be something good?  Okay, I can deal.”  She took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer out.  Watch over my sweet cheeks, hey, Angel?  I’m gonna miss her.  Then she looked straight ahead and stepped on the gas.

%%%

            Rough, wild country appeared out of nowhere.  Twisted trees shrouded by oddly colored mosses reached out to scratch at the truck’s surface as Faith struggled to keep the vehicle from crashing. 

            I’m not dead! she thought in astonishment, barely swerving in time to miss the bright blue hedge of thorns that seemed to rise up directly in front of the truck’s front tires.  With a casual turn of the wheel, she brought the truck under control and began to pick her way through the strange forest. 

            “Follow the trail, Faith.  You should be able to see it,” Gran said quietly.

            Faith looked over at her passenger and blinked in surprise.  For the first time since meeting the spirit, she looked, well, solid.  Unable to control herself, Faith reached over and poked the older woman in the leg, drawing a chuckle from her.  Sure enough, the flesh gave way, just as if she had poked a living being.

            “Those are some real good drugs you’re feeding me, Gran,” Faith said, grinning wildly and reaching for her water bottle.  “You almost felt alive there for a second.”

            Gran laughed and as Faith watched from the corner of her eye, she changed.  Where once an elderly woman approaching her octogenarian years sat, now a young woman not much older than Faith resided. 

            The truck slewed to a halt.  “Whoa, there, who the fuck are you and what the fuck did you do with Gran?”  Strangely, Faith wasn’t afraid of the stranger, just a little wary.  There was something familiar about the eyes…

            “Faith, child, I am Gran, or, I will be,” the woman smiled, and that’s when Faith recognized her.  She would know those warm, twinkling blue eyes anywhere.  “I just put on a shape that is a bit more comfortable to trudge around the backwoods of Faerie in, that’s all.”

            “Is this what you looked like when you were younger?” Faith asked, checking out the woman next to her. 

            Gran ran a hand through short, curly blonde hair and chuckled.  “Yes, it is.  Though it’s been some time since I looked this way.”

            Faith caught her eyes drifting below shoulder level and mentally slapped herself.  No ogling the mentor, Faith, she told herself smartly.  But she couldn’t help it.  Emitting a slow, appreciative whistle, she said, “Well, I see where Tara gets her looks.”

            Gran actually flushed.  “Why thank you, young lady.  I’m sure my granddaughter would be happy to know that you think her grandmother is a hottie.”

            Oh God, I’m so in trouble, Faith thought, feeling her own cheeks color.  “Where am I supposed to be going?” she muttered.  “I mean, I thought I was going to be singing with the angels,” Or more likely, running from the devils, “but I don’t see any halos here.”

            “That’s up to you, dear,” Gran said in a serious tone.  “Only you can find the right path to the mirror.”

            “The mirror?” Faith asked curiously, looking around the forest.

            Gran nodded.  “I brought you here so that you could look into the Mirror of Be’Shal, and gain some knowledge of yourself.”

            “Couldn’t you just tell me?” Faith wanted to know as she started up the truck’s engine.

            “If I said, ‘Hey Faith, you’re a great person and you deserve to be in love with Cordelia, and have her love returned.  Oh, and you make a pretty decent hero.’  What would you say?” Gran asked pointedly.

            Faith chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.  “I’d say you were full of it.  So, I guess it’s off to find this mirror thing, eh?”

            “Yes, definitely,” Gran nodded fiercely.

            “Oh-kay, how the hell do I do that?” Faith asked as she navigated around a huge gnarled oak tree that seemed to sprout up magically in front of them.

            “When you are ready to seek the mirror, you must be open to all, closed to none.  Blind kitten seeks its mother, so shall the supplicants of Be’Shal approach,” Gran quoted softly.

            Faith stared at the old, but young woman.  “What the fuck is that supposed to be, some sort of crazy prophecy?”

            Gran shook her head.  “It is the Prayer of Be’Shal.”

            “Oh, well what the heck does it mean?” Faith asked as she continued to drive the truck.

            “What do you think it means?” Gran challenged.

            Faith stared at the other woman, and then sighed.  “I hate pop quizzes,” she griped.  “Okay, open to all –“ a lascivious grin flashed across her face, “well, I’ve certainly had my share of lovers.  Men and women.  And I haven’t exactly been, shy, with them.  So, strike off being open.  I’m very open.”

            Gran blushed, but nodded for Faith to continue.

            “I’m right?  Well I’ll be damned.  It’s about time being a slut helped me out.  Okay, blind as a kitten.  Guess that means I should close my eyes, huh?”  Gran nodded again.  “But, I swear that I will not mew piteously until you pick me up by the scruff of my neck and wash me with your tongue,” she joked.

            Faith closed her eyes and nearly stomped on the breaks at what she saw.  Stretching out in front of her closed eyes was the image of the forest, but this time, a thin silver line meandered through it.  As she continued to stare at the picture, a tiny silver light began to flash some distance ahead on the “map”. 

            “I think I get it now,” Faith said, awestruck.  “This magickal stuff can be pretty cool,” she commented as she did her best to keep the truck following the silver line in her vision.

            “It’s certainly never boring,” Gran said, watching as Faith unerringly piloted the vehicle around large trees, boulders and even over a tiny wooden bridge.

            Faith heard the tires of her truck pass over the wood and fought hard to keep from opening her eyes.  Something told her that if she did that, she would probably never find this mirror thing that Gran wanted her to look for, and if that happened, Gran would be mightily pissed off.         

            “I hope to whatever Gods are listening that I’m doing the right thing,” Faith muttered, turning the wheel sharply to continue following the mental map that was projected out for her mind’s eye.

            Gran kept very silent and very still, allowing Faith to connect with the powerful draw of the Mirror.  Ever since she had been informed that the Be’Shalians would welcome Faith’s pilgrimage, she had been waiting for the right moment to open the way for the dark slayer.  Now all she had to do was wait and see how the young woman would do on this new path. 

            As they drove, Faith asked, “So just what is this mirror thing, anyway?”

            “The mirror is different for those who seek it,” Gran said, giving her charge a fond look.  Faith had her eyes screwed shut, yet her hands were firm on the wheel, expertly guiding them around the hazards of the forest.  “The few of the pilgrims that I have spoken with all agreed that the mirror was a place of learning.”  And no more can I say, child.  The mirror reflects the soul, and knowing my Faith, this is not something she wishes to peer too deeply into. 

            “Oh.  You know Gran, that sounded a whole lot like Faerie mumbo jumbo for dummies,” Faith cocked her head and wrinkled her nose at her mentor.  “Why don’t you just tell me that you can’t tell me anything ‘cuz I have to figure it out for myself?”

            Gran chuckled.  “I didn’t have to,” she replied.

            “Point taken,” Faith replied, adding her own laughter to the gentle sound filling the cab of the truck.

%%%

            “I am, so incredibly, immensely proud of you, sugarlips,” Xander crooned into Anya’s ear as she snuggled up against his bare chest.

            “Mm, you’re just saying that so I’ll wake up again,” she muttered, yawning loudly.

            Xander chuckled, reliving the past few hours briefly.  “No, not at all, my love.  I really am glad that you and Willow had a chance to talk.  Might make things a bit less tense around here.”

            Anya nuzzled her cheek against the peach fuzz on her lover’s chest.  “You think?” she asked sleepily.  “Good.  I like less tense.  Less tense means more me and you time, less Apocalypse of the Week time.”

            Xander combed his fingers through Anya’s light brown hair, reveling in the silky strands.  He coughed slightly and said, “About that you and me time.  I was, um, sort of wondering, um, if you’d like to go with me to Disneyland?”

            Anya sat bolt upright.  “You want me to go with you to the happiest place on Earth?  As in, rides and cotton candy and caramel popcorn and getting sick in bad smelling trash cans?” she asked accusingly.

            Xander blinked and spluttered, “Oh, well, if you don’t want to go, that’s um, okay.  We can go somewhere else, maybe the San Diego Zoo, or the Pier or …”

            “I’d love to go to Disneyland,” Anya said, snuggling back up to her boyfriend and chuckling as he let out a long sigh of relief.  “Gotcha,” she whispered, scratching his chest.  She kissed his chin and said, “I love you, you know.”

            He sighed happily.  “I know.  And I love you, too.”

            “So, Disneyland?” she asked, more awake now.

            “The Happiest Place on Earth, you know,” he replied, tipping his head down and smiling at her.  “Where else would I want to take my snoogiewoogums?”

            Anya returned his smile.  “Will you hold my hand while I scream my head off on Space Mountain?”

            “Only if you’ll hold mine too,” he said, covering the aforementioned hand with his own and squeezing lightly. 

            “We’re actually going on a vacation?  Without the gang?  No demons, no vampires, no lovers in crisis?” she asked wonderingly.

            “Yep,” he replied.

            “And you got time off to do this?”

            “Yep.”

            “But what about me?  I don’t know if I have time off… do I?”

            “Yep.  I kinda-sorta mentioned it to Giles yesterday.  He said that it sounded like a good idea.”

            “Mm, very cool,” Anya said, snuggling up again.  She was just starting to drift off when something occurred to her.  “Wait! You don’t think he’s trying to get rid of me, do you?  Like, maybe, I’ll be so enthralled by the lure of the powerful Disney magic and somehow become trapped in the Magic Kingdom?”

            “Anya,” Xander mumbled sleepily, “go to sleep.”

            “But!”

            “Sleep,” Xander murmured, stroking her hair calmly.  As it always did, his touch calmed her and lulled her to sleep.

%%%

            “Disneyland?  They’re taking off and they didn’t even invite us?” Buffy said, pouting furiously.  Rapid fire blows to the kick bag followed.  “But I love Disneyland,” kick, punch, elbow smash, “and I never get a vacation, Giles!” the blonde slayer whined.  “How could you?”

            “Anya isn’t the chosen one, Buffy.  She has a right to get away from the world for a while.  I know, it’s –“

            “Not fair!” Buffy wailed, unleashing a fury of blows and kicks to the abused bag. 

            Giles, who was steadying the device, winced.  He would have even more bruises than normal, after this workout.  Thankfully, Joyce didn’t mind the smell of liniment. 

            Amy, Buffy’s girlfriend of not quite seven months, sat on the bench in the back of the practice room, intently reading a book on anatomy.  She looked up and calmly said, “Buffy please don’t whine, you’re not two.”

            Buffy spun around to face her lover.  “But it’s Disneyland,” she said, as if that explained everything.

            Amy chuckled, stood up and walked over to embrace her girlfriend.  “Yes, I know it is, dear.  But you do have to realize that we can’t all leave Sunnyhell at once, right?”
            “But-“ Buffy’s lip quivered and was captured by a soft kiss from her lover.

            “No buts, love.  If you want to go to Disneyland, I’m sure Mr. Giles can make that happen, just not right now. “ She shot a look over at her lover’s watcher, who immediately released the kick bag and coughed.

            “Uhm, yes.  Quite right.  I do suppose that we could ask Faith to come up here for an exchange of some sort.  Perhaps in a couple of weeks, or maybe when Xander and Anya return, you and Amy could go by yourselves.  I’m sure that the rest of us could handle a day without you,” He said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

            “Giles, why can’t Sunnydale live without me for one day?  It’s not like Anaheim is that far away.  In fact, if I planned it right, I could patrol when we got home, and I wouldn’t even miss a day.  I mean, I’d really like to go as a group – don’t we all deserve a break?” Buffy pressed convincingly.

            Giles sighed.  He had hoped to give Xander and Anya some time alone, as the young couple requested.  Something in his demeanor must have alerted Amy that there was more to his hesitation than simple Watcher concern.

            “Buffy, honey, could you go out and get me some coffee?  I think I need a pick me up,” she asked sweetly, pressing several small kisses on Buffy’s cheeks.  “Please?” she added, kissing the slayer again, this time full on the lips.

            Buffy leaned into the embrace, slipping her fingers up into Amy’s newly clipped hair and stroked the bristly stubble where the medical student had the hairstylist shave away bits of her reddish blonde hair.  Buffy loved this new style, long, and short at the same time.  Amy’s hair, which once trailed all the way down her back, now rested somewhere near mid shoulder, but underneath, at the nape of the student’s neck, it had been shaved.  Amy had gotten the unusual and rather out of date cut, because it worked well for lab time.  She could easily put her hair up under a paper cap and not worry about stray bits falling through.  Plus, there was the added air conditioning bonus when it was hot.  Just a simple ponytail and suddenly, her neck was a nice breezeway.  Oh yes, Buffy really liked the bared neck aspect of this new haircut.  She spent some time exploring the soft flesh and even softer stubble with her fingertips, before breaking away from the kiss.

            Breathlessly, Buffy said, “Anything for you, sweetie,” and scampered off to the nearby coffee shop.

            Giles, who had grown redder and redder by the second, coughed heavily and said, “Well, yes, good.  Very.  Yes.”

            Amy chuckled.  “Okay, what’s the real reason she can’t go?”

            Giles shook himself and replied, “Xander asked me if he could take Anya on something of a anniversary getaway.  He said something about this being a good time for them to do so, since there didn’t seem to be any apocalypses this month.”

            Amy laughed and sat back down on the bench while Giles wiped his glasses off and took a drink of a cold cup of tea.  The watcher made a face, but finished off the dregs anyway.  “Yes, I guess we are rather crisis-free this year.  Which is amazing, but nice.  I mean, even when I was a,” the student’s nose twitched involuntarily and she began to shred a small piece of paper that had wormed its way into her hand.  She took a deep breath and continued, “A rat, I was aware that things weren’t hunky dory in the world.  But this year, aside from a few minor incidents, we’ve been bad guy free.”  She rapped her knuckles against the arm of the bench, causing Giles to smile wearily.  “Hopefully, this will last.”

            “It would certainly be different,” Giles agreed, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.  The bells over the exterior door chimed and he ducked his head out to see if he had a customer.  He did, so he went out to play the eccentric shop owner while a group of teens from the newly rebuilt Sunnydale High giggled and fingered the merchandise.

            Buffy returned a few minutes later, carrying two cups of iced coffee and a bag from which a deliciously sweet odor was emanating.  Amy’s nose wiggled with delight.

            “Pastries!” she crowed happily, taking one of the cups from her lover while clearing a place for her on the bench.

            “Yeah, I figured you might want a snack, too,” Buffy said, leaning over to kiss her lover on the cheek.

            “Mmm,” Amy nodded while biting into one of the crispy, flaky croissants from the bag.  She chewed, and then swallowed.  “Hon, we should let Xander and Anya go to Disneyland alone this time,” she said casually, as if it were a simple statement.  “They need some time together, too.  After all, isn’t their anniversary coming up?”

            Buffy paused in between bites and smacked herself in the forehead lightly.  “Duh!  Of course.  Sheesh, I feel so selfish now.”  She flushed slightly.  “Boy am I glad that they weren’t around to witness that little burst of childishness.”

            Amy smiled.  “I’m sure they wouldn’t have held it against you, honey.”  She licked her fingers, sucking off bits of gooey raspberry jam.  Buffy stared, eyes agog at the sensuous actions. 

            “Uhm, sweetie, if you keep doing that, I might not be,” she fumbled, flustered.

            Amy looked up from under her bangs to see Buffy’s flush deepening.  Slowly, she sucked the remaining jam from her fingers.  “Yes?” she asked seductively.

            “Oh hell!” Buffy replied, pushing the bag of remaining pastries onto the floor and leaning over to brush her lips over Amy’s.  “Mm, sweet,” she murmured, diving in for another, deeper kiss. 

            Amy smiled and stroked Buffy’s cheek as she kissed her.  “Should we go home now?” she asked, when Buffy had pulled away.

            “Home?  Yes, home.  To the house, where there’s a house.  And a bed, and a room, and privacy!” Buffy declared, bouncing up and retrieving the rest of their snack.

            Amy’s robust laughter punctuated her next statement.  “I love you, Buffy.  You’re such a goof ball.”

            Buffy wriggled her butt for Amy, then turned her head to look behind her at the medical student, who was picking up her books.  “Ah, but I’m your goof ball, so that makes it okay.”

            Amy just smiled and slipped her notebook into her backpack.

            Buffy’s attitude turned serious.  “Have you heard from Cordy?” she asked as they exited the magic shop.

            “Yeah, I got email from her last night.  Still no change,” Amy said, sighing unhappily.

            “Faith, I’m gonna kick your butt if you screw this up,” Buffy growled under her breath as she and Amy headed home.  I wonder if I can do a little dream running tonight?  I owe that girl a kick in the butt!

%%%

            Spike stared at his charge in complete surprise.  Once the two of them had reached Los Angeles, she had quickly instructed the driver to drop them off at a rather posh apartment.  She had showered and gone to bed, telling him to go ahead and use the facilities himself, then bed down in the spare room.

            The bleach blonde vamp was now walking around the large place in just a towel, contemplating where his next meal would come from when his cell phone rang.

            He fumbled with his pants, pulling the small device from its hard plastic sheath and trying to flick open in one suave motion, as he had seen on the movies.  Of course it didn’t work.  The antenna went flying toward the kitchen and the case clattered to the floor at his feet.  But the phone was open and a number was blinking up at him.  He cursed and put the phone up to his ear.

            “Wot?” he snarled, clutching at the towel around his waist, which had suddenly decided to vacation southward.

            “Having fun?” Tara’s amused voice made his bad mood only worse.

            “Bloody hell!” Spike cursed as his battle with his towel was lost, leaving him standing in the middle of Aliz’s apartment, buck assed naked.  What the hell, Spike?  So you’re in your birthday suit?  Like you care.  He sneered mentally, stretching out his arms and cracking his neck.

            “Spike?  Are you all right?” Tara’s concerned voice asked.

            “Yeah, Wic, I’m good.  You wanted me?” he asked, padding into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door.

            Tara groaned.  “You know I hate that nickname, Spike.”

            “So what?” Spike said nonchalantly as he reached to the back of the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer.  “I do.  It fits you.  Wic and Red.  See?  I get to have fun with Red, too.  Bet she dips her Wic more than I do, hey?”  He grinned as he heard the young woman on the other end of the line groan.  He cracked open the bottle and took a long drink, then wiped his mouth.  “So, was there a reason to this call, or do I get to torture you some more?”

            “No, no, you can put away your whip, big boy, this girl’s well and truly tortured.  Actually, I called to find out how you guys were doing and whether or not you would be here for dinner,” Tara said.  In the background, Spike could hear the clatter of pots and pans as the blonde Wiccan puttered about the kitchen of her huge mansion in Sunnydale. 

            The vampire took another drink of the beer, grimacing at the flatness of the brew and replied, “No, I don’t think we’ll be home for dinner, honey.”

            Aliz had stumbled out of the bedroom and was walking toward the bathroom when she saw Spike standing in his altogether in her kitchen.  The sight made her stop, look, and look again. 

            “Okay, well, in that case, we’ll see you whenever,” Tara said easily and then hung up the phone. 

            Spike smirked at the dial tone coming from his phone and took another sip of the stale beer.  He noticed Aliz standing in the hallway, her dark auburn hair wildly askew and her nightshirt hitched up over one hip, revealing a pair of loose cotton boxers that fell just to her shapely knees.

            “Hello, luv,” he said, tipping his beer toward her in a mockery of a salute.

            “Spike,” she said, tasting the word while giving him a thorough examination.  “You are about the whitest dead boy I’ve ever seen.”  It was true.  Spike’s flesh was unnaturally pale.  Not just because he was a vampire, there was something definitely ethnic about his paleness. 

            The bleach blonde vampire shrugged.  “Might be that I’m a little knackered, but don’t let that get your knickers in a wad.”  He finished off the beer and belched.

            Aliz rolled her eyes.  “If you’re hungry, I can have something delivered.”  She rubbed her eyes and yawned. 

            “That might not be such a good idea, you know,” Spike said, striding out into the living room and gathering up the fallen towel.  The white terry cloth was easier to secure around his waist now that he was somewhat drier.  For some reason, he felt better, not being naked to Aliz’s gaze.  Not that her view of him was unappreciative, but there was something about the way she so casually looked at him that made him feel as if he had been placed on some cosmic scale and found seriously lacking.

            “Oh pooh.  If you want to call out to Caritas, go ahead.  I’m sure that Lorne won’t mind sending one of his cute little boys over with some O-Poz for you,” she said dismissively.  “Just tell him to put it on my tab.”

            Well, Spike was never one to throw away a chance at some free blood!  It didn’t take long to locate the phone number for Caritas, which he noticed was a karaoke bar.  Huh.  Well, perhaps he’d head over there and do a little serenading sometime.  Alizelle smiled as Spike spoke to Lorne, the Host of Caritas.  Yawning again, she continued on her way to the bathroom and was back in bed long before the doorbell rang with Spike’s delivery.

%%%

            Faith stood on the apex of a cliff, looking down into a small valley.  Lying squarely in the center of a grouping of rainbow-hued trees and bushes, a tiny lake called to her with gentle song.  This was the place the glow behind her eyes had emanated from.  The sun was just rising, coating the surface of the small lake in a silvery glare. 

            The dark haired slayer looked over at Gran, who joined her on the cliff top.  “Is that it?” she asked, hoping that they had finally come to the end of their long journey.  Faith felt like she had been driving for days, not just the hours that the level of fuel in the gas tank said.

            “Is it, Faith?” Gran returned the question calmly.

            Faith closed her eyes, startled when the inner map reappeared easily.  She was standing right on the bright, shining glow of energy that had drawn her along the unseen path so easily.  Opening her eyes, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of forest loam and wildflowers.  “Yeah,” she said softly, “this is it.”

            “Then lead on, Faith.  This is your path to find, not mine,” Gran said quietly, calmly waiting for the dark haired slayer to begin the descent to the valley below.

            Faith took a deep breath and looked down the side of the cliff for any sign of a pathway and frowned.  Nothing.  “Tell me again what the prayer is, Gran,” she asked, pacing up and down the cliff side.

            “When you are ready to seek the mirror, you must be open to all, closed to none.  Blind kitten seeks its mother, so shall the supplicants of Be’Shal approach,” Gran said, while Faith closed her eyes and listened.

            Okay, well, I’m not rappelling down the side of the cliff.  No gear, and I don’t think Gran will levitate me down.  So how do I get down there?  I can’t fly, can I? Faith thought to herself, as she paced.  Stopping, she opened her eyes and looked down again at the lake.  She was probably a quarter of a mile up.  The cliff wall was sheer, made of jaggedly broken plates of gray shale.  A slow smile began to creep across her face as she considered the words of the prayer, and the folly of her own youth. 

            Slowly, she disrobed.  First, she removed her leather jacket, her white cotton tank top and her sports bra.  Then came her boots, her jeans and finally, her boxers.  Now, she stood before Gran, and whoever else in Underhill happened to be watching, in her birthday suit. 

            Gran watched as her charge took her first steps on the path to understanding.  She winced when the smoothly tanned skin of Faith’s back was revealed.  A fine tracery of scars crawled over the flesh like so many tiny silkworms, the product of Faith’s abusive past.  A larger, thicker scar marred the perfection of lean, tan abs and a tiny, puckered mark on the slayer’s left thigh was the remnant of the battle with Michiko Oyama and her gang of vampire thugs. 

            Faith turned and smiled at Gran.  “Wish me luck!” she exclaimed, grinning like a child.

            “Good luck, Faith,” Gran said solemnly and gasped when Faith closed her eyes, turned away from her and leaped over the edge of the cliff.

            The slayer’s dive was anything but graceful, but she cut through the water below rather neatly.  Gran’s heart nearly burst from fear, but she calmed herself down and incanted the short spell that would translocate her to the waterside. 

%%%

            The dive was impossibly silent.  Faith expected to hear the rush of the wind, but there was nothing, nothing at all to break the silence that cushioned her body as she sliced through the air.  When she hit the water, it was like crashing through a glass wall.  The pain evaporated as soon as it hit, the water was so cold it chilled and burned her battered flesh equally. 

            She rolled, felt her feet touch a silty bottom and pushed up, fearing to open her eyes until she felt the cool air of Faerie breathe across her skin once again.  She opened her eyes into a new world.  The rainbow hued bushes and trees she had seen from above were covered in every flower and fruit she could conceive of, creating a riot of color and scent that threatened to overwhelm her.  Birds, bees and butterflies blanketed the flowers and fruit, feasting upon the natural bounty of the area.

            Faith stood neck deep in the water, watching the valley’s inhabitants in shock.  The water she was in was so clear, she could count her toes.  Fish swam in multi-colored swirls around her body, tickling sensitized skin. 

            “This is freaking amazing,” she cried out finally, needing to give voice to all the terrible, wonderful, frightening emotions zinging around inside of her skin.

            “Are you ready?” Gran’s voice floated out to her.

            “Huh?” Faith spun and spotted her mentor standing on the shore, hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently.  “Oh, sorry, yeah.”  Faith swam to the shore, then climbed out and rubbed her arms down.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t very cold, but she felt extremely exposed without any clothes on.

            “Okay, now that we’re here, we can talk about why we’re here,” Gran started.

            “Now that’s something I’ve been waiting to hear for way too damn long,” Faith said, sitting down on the sandbar.

            Gran joined her and began to explain.  “Faith, when the Powers came to me last year and told me that they needed someone to be a Guardian and Guide for a particular young woman, I didn’t hesitate to take the job.  Watching you and working with you has been the delight of my afterlife, however,” she sighed and shook her head, “It has also been my bane and my frustration.  You are quite possibly the most stubborn, pig-headed individual I have ever known.”

            Faith hung her head.  “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

            “No, listen.  You are who you are.  But you haven’t learned how to accept that, how to balance all that you are with all that you can be,” Gran explained patiently.

            “Should I go join the army?” Faith quipped, whistling the familiar theme song.

            “Very funny, Faith.  No.  Tell me something – How’s your relationship with Cordelia?” Gran asked point blank.

            Faith looked away.  “Fine, I guess.  Whatever relationship there is, I mean.  You know she threw me out.”

            “Yes, I know that.  Why did she throw you out?”

            Faith shrugged, “I dunno.  She wasn’t too five by five with my slaying all the time.”

            “That’s a step.  Why do you think she felt that way?” Gran began to casually gather several small, round rocks into a pile next to her knee.

            Faith hugged her knees up to her chest and stared out at the water.  “Because I take risks.  I go after the bad guys when I see ‘em, I don’t wait for Angel or anyone else to bail my ass out.”  Faith’s voice was laced with some anger and resentment.  “Which is the way it should be.  Why should I have to stop and wait for someone to come along and baby-sit me when I damn well know I can go in and wipe the floor with them?  It’s wicked obvious that most vamps are pathetic against me, and most demons too!”

            Gran nodded and mmhmm’d, and then said, “What kind of relationship do you have with the staff at Angel Investigations?”

            “They’re my…” Faith paused, picking up a handful of sand and letting it trickle from her fingers.  “I guess they’re my friends,” she said quietly.  “I don’t know.  Angel – he gave me a second chance.  What do you call a guy who lets you hang around even after you’ve tried to kill him several times?”  Faith looked at Gran and flashed a bright, hard-edged smile, “Besides stupid?”

            Gran tilted her head to one side and looked into Faith’s dark brown eyes for a long time.  “You should answer that one,” she said finally.

            “You don’t make this easy, do you, Gran?” Faith grated, throwing sand at the lake and watching the tiny ripples her action caused.

            “Nothing worth having is easy, Faith, you know this,” Gran admonished.

            Faith stared up at the oddly deep sapphire hue of the Underhill sky and sighed.  “Yeah, I know.  I guess the guys at work are five by five with me.  ‘Cept for maybe Wesley, on account of me beating the shit out of him.  He doesn’t trust me,” she said, laying her head against her knees.  “Hell, I don’t blame him, I don’t trust me.”

            “It’s time, Faith,” Gran said, standing suddenly.  Faith frowned, but joined her.  As she stood, the light of the Faerie sun seemed to fade away, leaving the world illuminated in an eerie gray shadow of distant stars.  Four, tiny, oddly colored moons dotted the night sky, lending a sense of unreality to the place that made Faith shiver, though the air was as warm as if she were fully clothed.  “You must look into the mirror to understand the truth, Faith,” Gran said, pointing at the lake, which was illuminated by one of the closest moons.

            Nervousness skittered over Faith’s body, causing her to shudder.  Pasting a weak grin on her face, she turned to Gran and said, “How ‘bout a kiss for luck, since you’re such a hottie right now?”

            Gran laughed, a wonderful, musical tinkling that immediately put Faith at ease.  “Don’t let your girlfriend hear you say that, you scamp!”  She leaned over and dropped a gentle kiss on the dark haired slayer’s brow.  “You’ll do fine, child.   I know it.”

            Faith nodded mutely and knelt down next to the edge of the lake, looking in. 

            At first, she didn’t see anything but the wavy outline of her own weary face.  But, as she watched, Gran’s voice began to chant and suddenly, a stone broke the calm of the water’s surface.

            Faith felt as though she were falling, racing toward the water at breakneck speed, but instead of landing, the ripples on the water calmed, revealing a face.

            “Daddy?” the word was stripped from Faith’s vocal chords. 

            The apparition smiled as thousands of dancing lights swarmed around her father’s face, drawing him up from the water to the land next to Faith.

            “Hello, punkin,” her father’s warm, liquid voice wrapped around the dark haired slayer like a baby blanket.

            “Daddy?” Faith’s query came from somewhere deep within the slayer, a place of hurt so old that when the scars tore, the ache that wept from them nearly choked her.  She struggled to her feet, only to fall into the arms of a man she had not seen since she was three years old.  She looked up into his face, unmarred by the years apart and felt tears dust her eyelashes.

            The apparition held her, cradling her against a chest made strong and broad by years of handling heavy building supplies.  Only his hands were different, small, and light upon her face as he stroked her cheek.  Her father was an architect who believed in getting his hands dirty. 

            A distant part of Faith wanted to pull away, to run screaming off into the deep Faerie wood, for this could not be, was not real.  Her father could not be here, could not be holding her against him as though the years between hugs had not passed.  She could not smell the faint odor of sweat and old spice that clung to him and her memories so lovingly.

            But oh, what if it were real!  “Da-“ she tried again, but a finger held to her lips quieted her.

            “Shh, punkin.  You are right to be so suspicious.  I am not your father,” the apparition spoke with her father’s voice, but the words forced Faith to flee the comfort of his arms.

            “No!” she shouted, tearing away and scrabbling backward across the sand, searching with blind hands for any weapon.  “What kind of demon are you?” she hissed, grabbing a handful of wet sand.

            “Oh honey,” the vision shook his head sadly.  “I am not your father, because your father is still alive in the realm of the mortals.  I am but a reflection of your memories.  I am, and am not, your father.  I can not offer you the future, but hopefully, I can gift you with the past.”  He knelt down on the sand and Faith noticed that his weight did not shift the ground below his knees, though his arms had felt real enough.

            “Wha-what do you mean?” she asked, eyes narrowing, her heart still pounding so hard she was certain it would crack ribs.

            “You have a question for me, punkin.  Ask it.  I promise to answer,” the apparition said.  His eyes were kind.  They were her eyes, only darker somehow, filled with the years of separation from his only child. 

            She looked away, letting the sand fall from her hand.  “Why did you leave me, daddy?  Didn’t I love you enough?  Didn’t you love me?” the questions hurt to ask, made her throat raw with sobs that fought to tear free. 

            A warm hand brushed her foot.  “Oh Faith, honey, of course I loved you.  Of course you loved me enough.  God, I would give anything to take back that day,” he said, sighing heavily.  His words sent memories careening through her mind’s eye. 

She was sitting on the couch with Lamby, her favorite toy.  The mauled fur of the stuffed lamb felt sticky and hard in her hands and she could feel the coating of sugary sweetness that covered her cheeks. 

            Daddy and Mommy had taken her to the fair that day, buying their precious daughter every little thing she could have wanted.  The living room floor was strewn with prizes and toys that her father had gallantly won for her.  Balloons with long ribbon streamers bobbed along the ceiling, their brightly colored images smiling back at her when she looked up at them.

            The shouting from the kitchen was almost completely drowned out by the sound of the television.  Almost.  She heard a word, or two.  There was a sharp sound of glass breaking.  The crack of flesh against flesh, and then, her father’s defeated form squatting in front of her.

            “Give me a hug, punkin,” he said, just like every night before bed.  Only this time, there was a jacket slung over his shoulder.  On his face was the reddened imprint of a hand and tears glistened wetly in his warm brown eyes. 

            She reached for him, and was suddenly terrified by the tenderness of his hug.  It was as if he were filling up on her special hugs for many, many days.  She didn’t understand.  He sobbed once, then released her, ruffling her curly hair.

            “Be good, punkin.  Daddy loves you,” he said, touching her cheek one last time before turning away and walking out the door.

            “And you never ever came back,” Faith sobbed brokenly.  “You left me with her,” she spat, remembering the horror of living with a mother who blamed her for everything that went wrong.

            “I know, and had I any idea of what would happen to you, I would have fought to keep you.  But your mother was so adamant that you stay with her,” her father sighed wearily and sat down on the sand next to her.  He stared out into some other realm for a minute and then said, “Can I show you something?”

            Faith shrugged.  “Sure, can’t make me feel any worse than I do right now,” she reasoned.

            Her father drew in a deep, shuddering breath and furrowed his brow in concentration.  An image began to form on the lake’s surface.  Faith watched, captivated by the sight.  It was the kitchen to her old house. 

            Her mother stood by the sink, a glass in her hand, and a bottle in the other.  She was pouring a stiff one, just like so many times before.  Before she started eschewing the glass for the whole bottle, anyway.

            “Honey, don’t you think you could wait until Faith’s asleep before you,” Faith’s father walked into the image and put his hands over her mother’s.

            Angry eyes looked up at the man she had married.  “Why should you care?” she spat.  “You’re not the one who had to put up with the screaming of thousands of brats today!” Faith’s mother slugged back the shot and poured another.  “God, I hate kids,” she growled after the second drink.

            “Alice, could you not say that around Faith?” her father asked softly, turning away from his wife. 

            “Why? It’s not like the little mutt knows what I’m talking about.  I mean, she can’t talk, anyway.”  Another drink.  “We should just send her back, she’s damaged goods.”

            “Alice!” Faith’s father exploded, and in his anger, he knocked the glass from her mother’s hand.  “Go to bed, Alice.  Please, before you say something you regret.”

            Alice stared at the ruins of the best whiskey she could afford as it drained away down the sink.  “You fucking asshole!” she slapped him, hard.  “Get out!” she shrieked.  “Get out and don’t ever come back!  No one tells me what to do in my house!”

            Faith’s father, anger, sorrow, shame and something unidentifiable weighing heavily on his shoulders, lifted his jacket up from the back of a chair and turned to go.  “I’ll take Faith with me,” he offered softly.

            Spiteful fire crackled in Alice’s eyes.  She would not let this man win.  She would not give him the satisfaction of proving to the world that she was a horrible parent, even though she knew it.  “No, you will not.  If you do, I swear to God that I will make it my mission in life to poison her against you!”

            “Alice, please, don’t do this to Faith.  Let me take her, you can have the house,” he tried again, pleading with a woman he thought he loved more than any other.

            “No, Frank, I’ve made up my mind,” Alice replied.  A strange sort of calm settled upon Faith’s mother.  “Besides,” she smiled brightly, suddenly looking like one of those 50’s images of Perfect Motherhood, “A girl needs her mama.”

            Frank nodded, knowing that Alice was sincere in her threat.  “Goodbye, Alice,” he said, then turned and walked into the living room.

            “Send me back?  Damaged goods?  Was mom clairvoyant?” Faith asked, laughing in a dry, self-mocking tone.

            “No, honey, she wasn’t.  She didn’t mean what she said,” Frank tried, even now, to smooth the sting from words more than fifteen years spoken.

            “Bullshit, daddy,” Faith said bitingly.  “She hated me.  She always hated me.  Why the hell did she have me if she hated me so much?”

            Frank didn’t answer right away and suddenly, Faith knew.

            “I’m not hers, am I?  Alice Reed isn’t my real mother, is she?” Faith blurted, hurling the words like knives at the apparition of her father.

            His silence was her answer.

            “Are… are you my real father?” Faith asked, voice quavering.

            “I couldn’t love you any more than he,” Frank replied in a hollow whisper.

            “God,” Faith’s voice came out in a strangled whisper, and she suddenly turned to the side and began heaving violently onto the sand beside her.  A gentle hand rubbed her back as she vomited.  Sobs and mewling cries mixed with the retching, making her even more miserable.  Finally, there was nothing left inside of her, only a soreness that seemed soul deep. 

            Faith sat up, holding her side.  The scar ached and she knew if she looked down, the thick white flesh would be shot through with red, angry lines of stress.

            “No wonder I turned out like I did,” Faith said, her voice devoid of all emotion.  “I’m nothing more than someone else’s problem.”

            “Faith,” Frank Reed’s voice seemed hollow and empty now, not the full, rich timbre that had first greeted her.  “I will always love you,” he said, but the words meant nothing to the dark haired slayer. 

            He faded away, leaving Faith dry-eyed and shivering in the cold, sitting on the bank of the lake.

            She turned and looked over at Gran, whose face was wet with tears.  “Nice test, Teach,” Faith commented sarcastically, before turning to look into the water once more.

            As the lake swirled, another voice she knew far too well said, “Now is that any way to offer respect to your elders, Faith?  Come on, I thought I taught you better than that.”

            From the depths of the dark waters rose the form of Mayor Wilkins, Faith’s former employer and self appointed father figure.

            Faith stood up to greet him.  “Mayor Wilkins,” she said, her tone neither welcoming nor hateful.

            The apparition of the mayor looked his protégé up and down and made soft tsking sounds.  “Faith, is that any way to greet your old friend and mentor?  Please, come here and give us a hug,” he cajoled merrily.

            Woodenly, she reached over and gave him a one armed back pat.  He smiled beatifically and patted her on the head.  He held her away from him and sighed.  “Young lady, I thought I gave you better morals than this,” he said, clucking his tongue at her admonishingly.  “Oh well, we’ll just have to do something about it.”  He snapped his fingers, and suddenly Faith was dressed in a frilly, lacey, pink dress.

            The slayer fought the urge to vomit again and allowed the mayor to sit her down on a bright blue chintz print cloth that magically appeared on the sand. 

            “Now Faith, you must tell me everything that’s happened in your life since that nasty old Buffy and her friends blew all my wonderful plans up,” Mayor Wilkins said solicitously, while reaching over and pulling a bottle of milk out of a picnic basket that appeared by his knee.

            What is it with mayor, the picnics and me? Faith wondered silently, as she rattled off a monotone list of her activities since his death.

            “You say you and the little blonde slayer are friends, now, Faith?  That’s wonderful!  I knew you’d be able to make her see your side of things.  So tell me about your employer, for I know a talented girl like you has to be working somewhere wonderful!” the mayor said brightly.

            Faith stared at Wilkins, wondering just why he had shown up in the mirror.  What could she possibly need or want from him?  She could understand her fat-the man she thought was her father, but the mayor?  She hated him, didn’t she? 

            The dark haired slayer put her chin on her fist and considered the man.  She should hate him.  After all, he was partly responsible for the darkness that roiled in her gut day after day.  Gran had taught her that she couldn’t lay all the blame for her mistakes on him, but surely he held some responsibility?

            “Why yes, I suppose I am to blame for you, Faith,” the mayor said, answering her unspoken question.  “But I am quite proud of you, you know.  You turned out so beautifully.  I couldn’t have raised a better daughter.”

            I don’t want to be his daughter, she thought.  “I don’t want to be your daughter,” she said, echoing her thoughts. 

            “Why not?” Mayor Wilkins looked honestly surprised.  “Aren’t I a good father figure, Faith?  Don’t I do everything a good father does?  I give you guidance, when you need it.  I offer you a strict hand and a loving heart.  I gave you shelter, food and clothing.  I couldn’t love you more than your birth father,” he said, causing Faith to look at him sharply.

            “You don’t love me!” she hissed.  “You never loved me!  You just used me, just like any of those boys who wanted me for my body.  Maybe you didn’t want me for sex, but you raped me just the same.  You poisoned my mind and turned me against the only friends I had ever known.  You and I are not five by five, Wilkins.”  Faith’s words sprayed like venom at the mayor, causing him to reel back in surprise.

            “Why Faith, you wound me!” the mayor declared, standing up and looking down at the young girl he had come to care about so deeply.

            “Not hardly,” Faith sneered, adding, “How can I wound a man without a soul?”

            Wilkins’ face darkened.  “Why now that’s just not fair, Faith.  You shouldn’t hit a man with his weaknesses like that.  But then, you are the expert on male weakness, aren’t you?”

            Faith laughed mirthlessly.  “Is that the best you can do?  Hit me with cracks about my sexual misconduct?  Come on Wilky, surely you’ve got better balls than that!” Faith jumped up and began to circle the man, quite unaware of why her anger was so empty.

            The red haired man’s face turned bright red.  “Faith!  Such language does not become a young lady!”

            “Oh fuck you!” Faith said, flipping him the bird.  The ridiculousness of her actions struck her and her laughter suddenly became amused.  “What the hell am I doing?” she asked herself out loud.  “Why the hell do I even care about this argument?  You’re nothing to me, nothing!” she shouted, looking the mayor right in the face.  “You hear that!  You’re a ghost!  You can’t touch me or my life anymore!”  As soon as she said it, the apparition vanished, leaving her feeling as though she had just run a marathon.  Endorphins blasted through Faith’s veins and she dropped to the sand, panting. 

            Minutes later, she groaned, rolled her head over and looked at Gran, who was silently watching her.  “Can I have a time out?” she asked weakly.

            “Sure, honey,” Gran said, standing up and clapping her hands softly.  A blanket appeared and the older woman walked over to lay it over Faith’s sprawled form.

            “Five by five,” Faith muttered and passed out.