Fleur de Mal shook her head. "As interesting as this is, why is it relevant? Darla was a faithful servant of our Master, but she is not here to claim any rights or to present her opinions."

"True, true," Fortezzi nodded. "Still, her line is one with much potential, and she was one of the Master's favorites. He was most intrigued with Angelus, as well."

"Angelus is gone," Fleur said firmly. "Darla's line contains no one we need concern ourselves with. Darla shows no interest, Angelus is gone, Drusilla is mad, and William the Bloody is reduced to begging for his meals."

"Don't be so quick to judge, child," Fortezzi said, grinning maliciously. "That line has a remarkable ability to bounce back from their misfortunes. Darla has returned, Angelus is retrievable, Drusilla has sufficient moments of clarity to make her very dangers, and . . ."

Fleur sighed impatiently. "Yes, and? What of William the Bloody, who managed to fall foul of humans and was made helpless for his pains?"

For all the frailty of his body, Fortezzi's malice was as lively as ever. "He's not."

"Not what?"

"Helpless. He hunts again. The humans' chip is gone."

The whisper was louder this time. The human's Initiative against the demons had caused much talk and concern. A demonic jihad had been contemplated to stop them. One of the other vampires leaned forward.

"How was the chip removed?" she asked. "Most of the victims destroyed themselves, but there are still several about. Such knowledge would be very valuable."

Fortezzi shrugged. "That I do not know. My information extends only to the fact that William the Bloody is himself again."

Fleur remained unmoved. "While I rejoice that there is a way to undo the humans' atrocity, I still do not know the relevance to the current discussion, which is the leadership of Aurelius."

The Cardinal's look of unassuming concern was nearly perfect. "Aurelius is not only those of us who tend our machinations. Aurelius is also the wild ones in the night, the ones who think of us as calcified fossils who have forgotten what our fangs are for." He considered his own hands for a moment, studying the claws he could no long will away. "They may be right. William the Bloody has a reputation that appeals to the wilder vampires, the ones who dismiss us if they think of us at all."

"He is foul, unprincipled, and uncouth," Fleur snapped. "He cares nothing for the traditions of our order. His grand-sire rejected the Master and took Darla away, and he himself--" She had to steady herself. "He destroyed the Anointed One."

"Yes," Fortezzi said, all mocking gone. "The Anointed One. Who sat at the left hand of the Master, who provided the key to his release, who would have guided Aurelius in the ancient ways. But who was not strong enough to resist destruction at the hands of--" He nodded at Fleur "--an uncouth, unprincipled rogue with no appreciation for the way things have always been done." The Cardinal looked around at his fellows. "So perhaps it is time to reconsider the ways things have always been done."

Fleur de Mal could only gape for several seconds as talk broke out around her. "Your Eminence, are you suggesting--what are you suggesting? That we consider that--that barbarian for--for anything?" No one was paying attention any longer, so she strode to the Cardinal's side. Her slave scurried after. "Fortezzi, you said you were on my side," she said quietly. "What are you doing? How do you even know these things?"

"It has never been my habit to ignore those who might be rivals, even if their only seat of power is a garbage heap. Fortuna turns, and her favor falls where it was refused before. The wheel has turned for our unmannered friend. Fleur, he holds the Hellmouth, he helped bring down the Hellgod Glory, and he destroyed the Anointed One. He cannot be dismissed."

She shook her head in distaste. "But he's--have you ever met him?"

Fortezzi grinned. "Yes, I have. He and his lady, Drusilla, in Rome about ten years ago. Such an interesting pair. Yes, Spike is everything you said, uncouth, unpleasant, uncivilized--though if you get him drunk enough, he can speak quite knowledgeably about grand opera, and in the proper languages. I must admit, however, that he threatened to pin me to St. Peter's Dome with several railroad spikes if I ever mentioned Rossini or Mozart again."

"And you wants us to court him."

"He is unique, Fleur. For millennia we have followed the prophecies, the ancient courses. Our Master believed in the old ways, but he was never afraid of change. Spike is chaos personified. I believe we need a touch of chaos. We are as much a part of this world as the humans, and the world does not turn on her way immutable and unchanging. Too many of us think if we cling to the traditions that we will triumph. The humans adapt. So must we."

Fleur de Mal reserved her opinion. Enthusiasm was disconcerting, especially in such a one as Cardinal Fortezzi. She paid attention to the conversations around her. The disgusted mutters of "no dignity" and "so horribly human" and "all Angelus' spawn are mad" were met with "holds the Hellmouth" and "quite surprisingly clever" and "I don't know how well I would have survived being starved for so long."

It was breaking down along age lines. Perhaps, just perhaps, she had spent too much effort shaping her campaign to suit the oldest and most influential. The younger ones had voices, too, and there were more of them.

"He could never lead the order," she stated.

Fortezzi shrugged. "I doubt he'd want to. But I would be careful of touting your deeds and lineage just yet, with everyone thinking of Spike."

"I am only one generation removed from the Master! This--Spike has three between himself and the Master."

"But everyone knows the names of the vampires in those three generations. You're probably the only one, dear Fleur, who even remembers the name of your Sire. The one with the dogs, is how we remember him. One only has to say the word Angelus, and everyone begins telling the tales. And many of those tales include the name William the Bloody. The Master's blood is powerful, but it improve with reinforcement."

Fleur studied the old vampire, thinking of all the centuries of plots he'd concocted, living and dead. "You want him for leader. Instead of me."

Fortezzi shook his head. "The true elders would never accept him. They will accept you. But such a one as William the Bloody would be a very useful ally--if not something closer."

As she considered and watched the crowd, Fleur spotted the Magus deep in conversation with two of his own supporters. He glanced up and caught her watching, and his automatic smile and bow were a few seconds behind the thoughtful look he sent her way.

She disliked having new playing pieces appear on her gaming board, no matter how potentially useful this new piece might be. Still, even pawns were useful for getting in the way of more powerful pieces.

"It sounds worth investigating, at the very least," she said cautiously to Fortezzi. "The entire line sounds like it needs to be re-evaluated. As you said, there is potential there. Perhaps it is time for the Order of Aurelius to see to its neglected children."

Especially if it turned out that the best way Darla's line could be greatest help was to stop clouding the issues of Fleur's ascension by being dead.

I suck at endings. It always feel like I just chop it off in mid-thought.

Because the worst thing somebody can do is tell me "don't".

MUNCH

I followed them...I don’t know why, but I did. I smelled Kay’s shampoo for miles and I followed them. I just needed to confirm for Kay that she was on the right track or something...I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking with my brain. When I got there, I hid in a hibiscus bush and waited for her to retrieve something from the car. She heard me rustling around and turned her beautiful head my way.

“Boo,” I said, after checking to see I was in human face.

“Son of a...Munchkin, my God. You’re the one with the letters, huh? Are you trying to kill me here?” For just one minute, I see the fear, the pain and strain. Detective Howard hides so much. I wished we were both different people so I could tell her it was going to be all right without feeling like I was blowing smoke up her gun belt.

“Only with kindness, babe,” I don’t know why I do that...I can see she’s really freaked, but still, alone with a beautiful woman, out comes this hipster bullshit.

“What are you trying to do here, huh?” Kay said. “I’ll tell you, Munchkin, I meant it when I said I wouldn’t stake you, given my druthers. But you make one move on that girl in there, and you are sediment, bunky. It would break my heart...I might even wanna eat my gun after, but swear to God, I’ll do it.
” “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you? I could have a hundred Cordelias, babe. Although that is an entertaining thought...do you mind if I pursue it for a minute?”

She nodded curtly at me, gesturing toward her purse, which I assumed contained a Giant Stake of Doom of some kind.”As long as we understand one another."

Oh, man, erika, do I love the way she treats the inside of his head.

I have a Faith fic percolating. It's being really insistent. And I really, really, really do not have time to give in to ficcing right now.

That's how it is, I think, with people who've known each other close to forever, like they have.(In cumulative years, maybe nsm, but they've spent a fair amount of time shut up in a small squad...and he likes to tease her and symbolically pull her pigtails. And there is next to no privacy in that environment.) And I think Munchkin's not all that acquainted with the unexpressed thought. Read about them in books, but...

OK. This is the beginning of the Faith piece that's been wanting out. I'll be doing this one in stages, because damn it, no spare time at all right now.

The Long Road

Highway, a deep river of darkness punctuated and limned by pale yellow dots. There were stars overhead, uncluttered by city light. In this moonless night, they seemed close enough to pick up and scatter as confetti.

It had been a long time since she'd come this way.

• * *

Faith drove well. It was a skill she'd picked up early, knowing how to handle any vehicle anyone could produce. The acceleration of awareness, a gift of the Slayer birthright, helped too.

She'd picked this truck up somewhere just outside Tulsa. It was pushing thirty years old, but something about it just spoke to her: a big heavy longframe Toyota Land Cruiser, the kind where dropping it into low-four meant getting out and doing it by hand. The paint, an ironic British racing green, was faded to nearly pastel. It weighed three tons and ate gas at a horrific rate. She didn't give a damn; the Council had given her plenty of money for this trip. And it was tacitly understood that what she chose to spend it on was entirely up to her.

Faith drove south, casually, not so casually. Her nervous system was talking to her, a soft insidious background whisper that was threatening to become a chatter. It had been awhile since she'd been out alone like this, alone and not running from anyone. Two years ago, she couldn't have gone near California, but times had changed; Willow had hacked the records, made a few big changes to the fingerprint file, and Faith was unidentifiable as a wanted felon. She was free. She was also edgy. The highways had grown progressively thinner of passenger cars since they'd whupped the First Evil. But this was spooky - here on Interstate Five, the main artery into Los Angeles, she hadn't seen a single vehicle that wasn't a semi or an eighteen-wheeler. Nothing left out here but commercial vehicles. Where the fuck was everybody, anyway?

The night was silent, nothing but the steady turnover of the Cruiser's big engine. It was getting on her nerves, that silence. She turned the radio on, twisting through stations on the dial, getting random bits of noise and speech: come back to Jesus Ooooh baby I love your way Texaco on I5 just north of the first Bakersfield exit full service come back to Jesus somebody bring me some water ooooh baby baby....

She finally settled on a station out of some small town in the Valley. The dj had put on Warren Zevon, an album side; probably gone to take a leak and smoke a joint, Faith thought, but she listened to "Werewolves of London" and grinned to herself, sparing a passing thought for Oz, wherever he was now...

Singing along in a jangly offkey contralto to "Excitable Boy", she almost missed the hitcher on the side of the highway. About a hundred yards beyond him, she looked in the rearview mirror and saw him staring after her.

"Huh." There was something compelling about his stance, the way he watched her tailights trying to disappear. She stopped the cruiser, backing it up to where he waited.

• * *

Shit.

A question, a really dumb one, in fact.

Is Sunnydale north or south of Los Angeles? I can't remember...

I'm pretty sure it's north.

Hil, thanks. That means I get to rethink a few things in the story; I think I'll put Faith taking highway 5 to hang out in LA to nerve herself up to cut up 101 north to Sunnydale, because there's no place I can think of between LA and Sacramento off interstate 5 for Sunnydale to be. It would have to be off the coast side, Santa Barbara up to San Luis Obispo.

Huh.