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.
I remember reading something that used the geographical clues we've had in various episodes and figured out that Sunnydale would probably be somewhere near Santa Barbara.
It looks like it ought to be there, nestled up near the coastal ranges. I wonder if Willow would ever sneak up to Malibu with some of her buddies, and magically egg Mel Gibson's house...?
edit: and it's very fresh in my mind, because we drove home from LA two days ago using that exact route. Nice had a business meeting in Goleta, just north of Santa Barbara.
Hee hee...I can see that. Cool start, Deb.
Thanks. It just occurred to me, when this damned thing started burrowing its way toward daylight, that I wanted to do a post-Chosen that incorporated the POV of some of the men out there - suddenly confronted with a reality in which there are thousands, maybe millions, of girls with supernatural strength, and most of them without a clue as to what it is, or how to handle it, or why it's there.
Also, I wanted to give Faith a shot at adulthood in her own right, away from the others, without any help but what she can find in herself.
I tried so hard to move the plot forward, but these people wouldn't let me. All they want is to stand around and talk.
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.”
“As much as we ever did,” I said. “Look, I’m not the danger here. I had to send those letters.”
”I understand why you want the Cordelias, John. I’d say that’s damn understanding, for a woman in my position. My stake’s still in my purse. Spill. And no fair peeing on my leg and telling me it’s raining. Cause you’ll know I know.”
“That’s another great thing about being undead, Kay. All that excretion stuff is history. Saves me hours a night.” I hadn’t intended this, but I could see her fighting of a smile. In the windows I could see lights flickering on and off. “Somebody...or, I should say, somebody else...wants you.”
“Oh, that’s probably just Dennis. In some ways, you never change, Munchkin, always with the distractions. What?”
I made a face just to aggravate her, and she said “You’ve got five minutes.” I hated her for that. I wanted to believe we were hanging around outside the squad together and she just had to bring reality into it, damn it. Life would just be happier if people would follow my script once in a while.
“Dennis? How many Effete Sweepstakes Winners are you fighting off out here, Howard?”
“None...well, ok, one. Wesley...well, actually, he fought me off...although why the hell I should be telling you anything after you jump out of the bushes and damn near give me a heart attack to go with my GSW is anybody’s guess. You don’t have to worry about Dennis...he’s dead.”
I cleared my throat and indicated myself.
“Not that kind of dead. Dead like invisible, huh? He’s a ghost...he’s got no body.”
“So, let me get this straight. I disgust you so you’re making time with a gay guy and Magic Fingers.” Unbelievable. Even after all I’ve been through, I still sometimes feel like the only guy who knows anything.
“He’s not gay. He’s a gentleman, huh? Classy. And he’s got a broken heart.”
“If he said no to you, his heart’s not the only thing that’s broken.”
My Connorcest story (Connor/Wes, after the mindwipe is undone) is up, though it ended up being sadly incest-deficient.
I promise to write smut for my next ficathon.
Feedback is love.
