"No way."

Faith stood in the dimming parking lot, staring at the shiny new black Jaguar convertible, unconvinced that she was hearing this right. Mayor Richard Wilkins III stood nearby, hands stuffed in pockets, grinning hugely at the Slayer's awe. "And I repeat: Yes way!" he insisted.

Faith looked from the car, to him, to the car again. "Who do I have to kill?" she asked, not caring at all as long as she could keep the thing. It was liquid and beautiful, sleek like a weapon. It stared back at her with headlights that under the buzzing lot lights seemed to have a green tint to them, like cat's eyes. Like a real jaguar.

The Mayor shrugged. "Nobody. No, this is a sweet sixteen present!"

Faith walked around from the front to the rear, trying to get a look at the beautiful machine from all angles. "I'm not sixteen." She declined to comment on the sweet part. "Also, it's not my birthday."

He shrugged again. "Consider it late. Or early. Besides, after this spring the roads aren't gonna be much for driving anymore." He uttered a sardonic laugh. "What's the matter? Not your color? Would you rather have red? I'll exchange it if you want."

Faith couldn't believe it. He was actually offering to change the color like he was talking about a sweater. "No way. I love black." In truth, she would have preferred a motorcycle -- but the convertible was so gorgeous sitting there under the streetlamp, the sunset glowing off its wax. A brand new car, she couldn't get over it. Faith wasn't sure she'd ever been in a new car before. Her mother had never been wealthy or sober enough to even own a rusty rattletrap of a car.

The Mayor was enjoying the awed expression on the girl's face. "Well? What are you waiting for? Wanna take it out for a spin?"

Well, yeah. Except Faith had never really driven much. Walking always got her where she needed to go, and it was incognito. Plus if she had to, she knew she could run faster than most cars. Some guy had tried to teach her to drive once, back in Boston, but he'd bailed before the lessons went too far.

The Mayor seemed to know what she was thinking. "You do drive, don't you?" he asked.

Faith gave him a look. "How hard can it be? Turn the key and stay between the yellow lines. Ain't rocket science."

The Mayor beamed. "Swell! Heads up." He pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them over the hood at her. She caught them swiftly in one hand, barely even looking. "You have a ball out there. And remember, young lady... safety first. You buckle up."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Aw, come on! That's no fun."

"Faith..."

"Okay....geez." She gazed at the shiny keys in her palm, like grinning dinosaur teeth. The keychain even had one of those remote doodads you could lock your car with. Faith felt weirdly humbled. The apartment he'd presented her with last week was one thing. Cool as her new pad was, it had still felt like an offering, a bribe, something she wouldn't normally have and therefore didn't deserve. Which was why she had offered to sleep with him. She'd been around enough to know how the barter system worked. Except he'd turned her down, which, while not exactly a disappointment, completely threw Faith's balance off. And now he turned around and did something like this. She wasn't used to getting so much for nothing. The no- strings- attached apartment, and now this car, were above and beyond the barter. Nobody had ever done something like this for her before.

She raised her eyes, looking up at him. "You wanna come?" she couldn't help offering.

The Mayor looked up, surprised. "Faith, you don't have to," he insisted. "Besides, I really can't. I've got a meeting in a while on the other side of town and....anyway, you don't really want an old hat like me on board, do you? Wouldn't you rather go joyriding with the gals?"

Faith blinked. Was he kidding? Yeah, rolling with friends would be great -- if she had someone to roll with. She could always cruise the streets looking for a handy hunk -- but this idea, for once, didn't hold any appeal. A stud off the street wouldn't appreciate this, the magnitude of her new present. The thought of Buffy seated in the passenger seat flashed across her mind -- and she shoved it away. Buffy had made painfully clear whose side she was on. The nice, clean, we're-always-right-and- you're-always-wrong-and-you're-goin'-down-girl side. Faith had thought for a while there she had somebody on her side, someone as strange, as freakish, as unique as she herself was. Sister Slayers, them against the world. Bulletproof, death-proof, the Indestructible Two. Someone to party with and screw the establishment and conquer the world with. But Buffy, apparently, didn't want to be that kind of girl with Faith. A fairweather, gung ho Slaying pal, sure. But nothing deeper. Nothing else.

An unhappy frown had clouded Faith's face. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have a huge entourage here," she grumbled, opening the door. She gave the Mayor a look. "Come on. You gotta get there, right? I can drive you. Or look, just blow 'em off, I mean, the slaughter of innocents can wait one night, can't it? When's the last time you got out of the office anyway? It'll be fun."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." The brief darkness in her brown eyes passed. "Yeah, I'm sure. Driving solo bites."

The Mayor uttered another laugh, scratching the back of his well-clipped red head. "Well, okay...if you really don't mind." He opened the passenger door and got in.

Faith smiled. An evil demon lord wannabe was still better company than her own dark self. Letting her black mood melt in the warm glow of automotive excess, she slid into the leather driver's seat, running her polished fingers possessively over the wheel. She didn't know what to try first. She fiddled with the remote on the keychain for a second, like sampling a candy off a cake. She hit the door locks half a dozen times. She flicked the lights on and off. She zoom-moved the mirrors, checking herself out in the rearview, her chocolate eyes were sparkling. She looked hot in this car. She was also grinning like a dork, but she couldn't help it. The Mayor watched all this with an amused, indulgent grin. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Wicked neat." Finally she stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The car started up smooth, and she couldn't help hitting the gas a few times, revving the engine. Damn, it sounded beautiful. Like a jet plane. She pulled on the lights and the dash lit up like the Strip on Christmas. "Awesome," she breathed, reaching for the stereo.

*"Wanna go for a ride?!"* The extremely loud bassey crunch of the Pumpkins blasted over the speakers. "Holy--" the Mayor yelped, jumping. "You wanna--"

The tires squealed and the car took off with a jolt down the darkening street before he could finish his plea to turn down the stereo. No great trouble. Next to the revving of the engine, the music was barely even noticeable. "Okay!" the Mayor called, reaching for his seat belt out of habit. "Now, you might want to stay in your lane-- Faith-- this lane, my side--" He burst out in a nervous fit of laughter as the car bucked suddenly. "Faith, I can talk you out of a speeding ticket, but I don't know about driving on the curbs."

Faith didn't bother. She loved this. Nobody had ever really let her get behind the wheel of a car and turn the mother out before. Plus she was having unholy fun watching the Mayor get all freaked over her driving. She gunned the motor a little and watched him sink back in the seat. Faith's red lips grinned. "Just lean back, boss," she shouted over Billy Corgan's peeling whine. "This car is the BOMB!" She couldn't help whooping for joy, and he laughed too.

Sunnydale was getting gone real fast as the night came on. The unspoken curfew that every citizen followed if they knew what was good for them meant the streets were bare, more or less, by the time the sun set. Anyone out walking now was either a terminal carnivore or terminally stupid. Either way, Faith didn't care. The thinning herd wasn't her problem anymore. It was liberating -- Buffy would never understand the pure joy of blowing off people who were depending on you. Especially if they were depending on you. It was a total high. "Man, where's the hood latch?" she asked, veering into the opposite lane as her eyes left the road momentarily. Next to her, the Mayor looked satisfyingly startled.

Grinning, she yanked the correct knob and the roof came away from the top, peeling back over their heads, the dark blue sky becoming visible, the stars coming out one by one. The horizon was still pale red, and this was what Faith sped toward. This town was dead at night. All the action was over the hill. "So where's this meeting you have to be at, anyway?" she shouted over the rushing wind.

The Mayor checked his watch. "Well, no big rush," he said. "I've got a half hour yet. We can go get ice cream if you want." He chuckled. The young Slayer's brown locks were whipping around her head, she looked happier than he'd ever seen her.

So they turned in (rather, screeched in, Faith didn't quite make the turn) to the Mr. Freezee's Ice Emporium and naturally took the drive thru. Mr. Freezee's seventy-one flavors were lit in faded color on the menu. Faith picked Tangy Raspberry Rage; the Mayor opted for E-Lemonator. "Did you hear me?" Faith shouted into the buzzing intercom. "I said--"

Smash. That had come from the side of the building.

Faith looked around -- deserted parking lot, lights all on... okay. She sat back in the seat, deliberating.

"What is it?" asked the Mayor.

Faith's eyes were trained on the brush surrounding the drive in restaurant. "Just how far you trust your voters, boss?" she asked, her voice low and even. "Let me put it this way... there anybody you can think of that wouldn't take a good clear shot at you?"

The Mayor considered that. "Well, now that you mention it--"

"Thought so." Faith looked around. If he stayed in the car, he had a chance. He probably knew some kind of ward-off charm to keep his butt safe -- but protecting the Mayor was one of the things she'd been hired for, and it was one thing she wanted to make good on. "Things are gonna heat up in a minute. Keep the doors locked." Faith got out of the car, slamming the door.

She hiked around the side of the building, eyes moving over the bushes, the shadows. Her senses sharpened up, she cloaked herself in her mental indestructible armor as she shoved through the door of the restaurant.

No less than ten members of a gang were in there, busting up the place. One was eating the ice cream straight out of the vats, one was spray painting his name onto the menu, and one was smashing the jukebox. None of them were human, though Faith wasn't sure what they were. She knew what the owner laying on the floor with his throat cut was, though...dead.

"Hey!" she shouted.

They all turned around. The presumable leader, a damn-fine looking guy stripped in leather up and down, broke a wicked grin at her. "Hey yourself, chiquita," he called. "You be the Slayer, right?"

Faith shrugged, stepping to him. "Depends on what's asking," she answered with her own grin. It was so easy -- just grind her hips, pout a little, and they were jelly. It occured to her whoever had decided Slayership was a chick-only deal had had a pretty sick sense of humor. She stepped up to the punk, sliding her hands over his jacket, a move that left him open to getting tossed through a wall and which he naturally didn't think to block. "So tell me, stud, what kind of man are you, anyway?"

He was checking her out, like they all did -- eyes roaming up and down her shapely curves without even worrying about her noticing. Whatever he was, he was fine. She could dance with this one if she had a mind to. "Kind of man that eats pop tarts like you for breakfast, Lola," he sneered.

"Really." Faith smiled as he walked around her, getting a good view. She shifted her weight from one side to the other, posing. "Wow, guess this is the part where I get all scared and please-don't-eat-me-Mr.-Wolf, huh?"

"I think you're the kind of girl that likes biting," sneered the punk.

Faith's smile cut one side of her face. "I think you might be right. Wanna find out?" She slapped a hand on the punk's jacket, pulling him forward slowly, lips moving close to his. Her smile turned into a cute pout as her nose wrinkled. "Only thing, Marc Antony...."

He recoiled violently as her fist shot into his gut. "I don't do zombies," she snarled through her teeth as she threw him over.

He couldn't have been dead long. She hadn't been able to smell him until she got close, but the unmistakable stench of just-starting to rot flesh was hard to hide. The punk hit the floor like a cat, rolling over, unusually strong for a dead guy. He and his buddies all jumped on her at once, crashing, punching, and for the most part, losing. "Never had ten at once before," grinned Faith, punching one of the less composed punks so hard that his skull caved. She whipped around and hit him a few more times before staking him in the heart.

Faith didn't especially like slaying zombies. When you staked a vampire your stake hit hard flesh, but it stayed... fleshy for only a few moments at most. Then the pressure lessened like soda escaping an upside down bottle as the dead flesh decomposed and turned to dust and fell away, and you were left with a nice clean (if dusty) stake. Faith had perfected the art of staking with an upward angle so as to max that lightening feeling. Except zombies didn't turn to dust when you staked them. They had to be nailed in the heart, like vamps, but they just died a second time and stayed solid, like a human, and you had to push them off and throw the corpse in a corner and it was too close to the memory of poor old stupid Finch getting the business end of her stake...

She ripped at one of the others, slashing into his mushy chest with ease. Kicking him off, she looked around for Hunk Zombie Guy -- and got a piler right between her shoulder blades. She went down, stake clattering on the black and white checkered tile. Hands threw her right side up and the zombie crashed down on her, grinning crookedly. "Sorry, luscious," he snarled, "but I don't do psycho Slayers, either. No hard feelings?"

Faith sneered hatefully. "None at all. Gotta say I'm disappointed." She shoved her knee up where it hurt, roundhousing him in the face. Squirming out from underneath, she grabbed her stake and readied herself as her opponent got to his feet. His sexy mug was now hanging off his skull like rotten lettuce.

Faith wrinkled her brow, smirking. "Cripes. I'm doin' you a favor," she said, lunging forward.

The body collapsed to the floor with a dead thud. Faith stared down at her slimy stake, heaving. "Screw it," she muttered. flinging it behind the counter in disgust. "I'll whittle another one." She blew out her cheeks in a settling sigh; feeling like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet, whatever that meant. Her nerves tingled, her adrenaline was thrumming through her, stirring up a warm quicksand whirlpool of vibes and hormones -- and it was all pouring directly down between her legs. "Mmmm, dammit," she hissed, feeling the familiar aches fire up. Hungry and horny, right on schedule... not neccessarily in that order, either.

"Holy cow!!" The Mayor's chuckle cut the dead silence in the dark ice cream parlor. "Boy, you girls sure do a number on these places. I guess I've probably got you to thank for half the repair funds I had to appropriate last--"

Faith looked at the Mayor, the only living red-blooded male within a few street blocks. She let out a shuddering sigh as an almost painful fire flooded her thighs. "Hell," she muttered, smiling at the irony.

The Mayor looked concerned. "What's the matter?" he asked, stepping toward her.

Faith hesitated -- and finally stepped away, crossing her legs. "Nothin'," she answered huskily. "Just... if you wanna hang on to that family guy status you'd better find me something more to eat than ice cream."

Surprisingly, the Mayor understood, maybe more than he should have. "I'll call for Chinese," he said suddenly, stepping back from the overheated Slayer.

You're an alien sex fiend
And you go lalalalalalaaaaaa..."

Some time later Faith was sitting in the Jaguar, swirling up the last of the sweet and sour sauce with her finger and slurping it down. Outside, the Mayor peeped around the dash window. "All better?"

Faith nodded. Actually she could have done with about five or eight more of the boxes, but it would hold her for now. "You're safe. Hop in." She resisted the urge to toss the take out box on the backseat floor. It was a new car, she did want to keep it clean at least a little while. Crumpling the box into a very tiny paper ball, she opened the ashtray and stuffed it in there, clapping it shut.

The Mayor got back in the car, and Faith drove them up into the hills, looking for a spot she had seen from below. It was harder to get places in a car than it seemed. It was faster of course, but when you walked you could go as the crow flew. Faith had never paid attention to street signs, so she felt like a stranger in town all over again.

She did find it eventually though -- an old, deserted drive in movie theatre, its large concession stand converted into a warehouse, its neon sign still glaring blue and eerie red into the dark. They parked under this sign on the hill overlooking the town, finishing off their cones. Clouds had come in from the west, but they only half covered up the crescent moon up in the sky, which kept appearing and vanishing between the clouds, like the Cheshire Cat's grin. At least it wasn't a full moon. No werewolf weather. Two weeks ago she would have been patrolling on a night like this. The British Berthas never let her and Buffy have a night off....

"You'd rather be with someone else, wouldn't you?"

Faith looked away from her blue-tinged face in the rearview mirror, startled. The Mayor held up his hand. "Nope, don't deny it, that's a distinctly forlorn look on your face. As well it should be. A pretty young girl like you should have more friends, someone her own age to hang out with. A handsome young buck to thrill to the moon with. Am I right?"

Faith suffered a smile. Well....he didn't have it exactly right, but yeah. She did wish she was with someone else. She wished a lot of things. "Tell you what," she offered in her low voice. "You ask me a question, I get to ask you one."

"Shoot."

Faith reached out and tapped his hand, the one he wore his wedding ring on. "Who's this?" she asked. "How come I've never seen her?" It had been driving her nuts for a while. The guy worshipped the devil and plotted to destroy the world, yet he took time out to raise a family? He certainly worked like he didn't have anything to go home to; at any rate, Faith sure as hell hadn't ever seen any Mrs. Wilkins.

He wasn't expecting that. The Mayor cleared his throat, looking like he'd been asked a tough question in a debate. His face was calm and impassive, but she could see the gears working, even in the thick red light from the sign. "Ah...well, she's...."

Faith waited, lips twisted in a half-smile. "You got a wife? For real? Or is that just for John Q. Public?" When he didn't answer she lapped her ice cream, keeping on with the twenty questions. "Okayyyy...did you divorce her?"

"I most certainly didn't," he answered, somewhat huffily.

Faith raised an eyebrow, certain she had it now. "Did you kill her?" That had to be it. She was half-grinning. "You got like, a harem strung up in the basement, like Bluebeard or somethin'?"

"Faith..." He was giving her that condescending look again, and his voice was just the slightest bit tight. "You're well over your one-question limit, you know."

Whatever. What was he gonna do, zap her? Faith smiled, enjoying that she could make this evil sorcerer dude squirm. "Wanna know what I think?" she ventured. "This whole family man deal? I think it's a load. I mean, come on! You're wicked voodoo magic guy and you're tellin' me you never once put the Svengali whammy on an intern or two?"

He gave her a sharp look, and Faith held up her hands. "Okay, no comment, whatever. I just don't get it. I mean, how come you're not out here with some soccer mom shootin' the moon or whatever you said? You're kinda... y'know, hot for an old guy." Well, it wasn't a lie. When he wasn't stuck in his office ties, when he was just hanging around with her, he cut loose a little and left his jacket open, collar undone, and he actually looked somewhere approaching cool.

A semi-indignant laugh burst from the Mayor's throat. "Well, thank you very much! Sheesh!" It was a goodnatured laugh, but it was clear he didn't know whether to take it as a compliment, a come on, or what. "Okay, okay, in all seriousness.... no, to quote Richard Kimball, I didn't kill my wife. I didn't divorce her, either. I don't hold for that sort of thing. Neither did she." He was speaking slowly, not entirely warm to his subject. He gazed out the dash at the twinkling city lights. "She was a good woman. Too good. I suppose what it came down to was, at the end of the day... she couldn't handle what I was turning into. And I couldn't handle the fact that she couldn't handle it. And she made a choice. And we... parted ways. Wasn't my idea." His voice was dark, the red neon was coming through his eyes from the side and lighting them up creepily. "But just because she's uh, absent... at the moment... doesn't change the fact that marriage is a mortal institution. Even for us immortals. It's permanent, and it's deadly. Nobody gets out of true love alive." He contemplated his half-eaten cone darkly. "Not that she's dead.... particularly. No, I have no doubt that I'll be seeing her again.... one way or the other."

His voice had become low and bitter all of a sudden. He sounded dangerous like that. In spite of the sage Hallmark line about true love, Faith liked it. She could even understand, a little, what he was getting at. It was true -- love, any kind, was a brutal scarring mess. Just because somebody decided to rip themselves out of your life didn't mean they didn't leave a bunch of raw nerves behind. Couldn't handle what I became... that was for sure. The Mayor actually understood it better than Buffy had. What did he mean, not particularly dead? You were either dead or....actually, in Sunnydale you could be a lot of things besides alive or dead.

Faith knew enough to drop the subject. She didn't exactly relish the fact that she could depress even the perkiest person in Sunnydale. "Hey," she said suddenly, feeling awkwardly like she had to cheer him up, "look, I'm not complaining. I got a brand new car, and I'm having ice cream with a city mayor. Trust me, it's a step up from some of the places I've been in this year."

"Really?" He looked over, studying her. "Tell me about it," he said after a time.

Faith shifted in her seat. It was her turn to be uncomfortable. "Uh...well..." She frowned at her cone. "It's like.... you know what I was doing the week before I came here? I hate this. My mom died from this, but I was like this close to selling crack. I was down to nothing. I was living out of dumpsters." The Mayor shuddered at the thought. "Yeah, I know. And here's these guys down on Bunker Street making, like a thousand bucks a pop for this junk. I was lucky if I had three cents in my pockets at one time. I was seriously, like this close to starving." She frowned. "I hated it. Someday, man, I'm never gonna live like that again."

She fell silent a while. Someday. Right. "Who am I kidding. Someday? I'll be lucky to live out the year. 'Specially now." Her stomach tightened, a sharp pang coming out of nowhere. "I mean... the apartment, that's really nice. I know I got that. And this car. And...." She stopped, not going there. "But nothing lasts long for me. Especially nothing good. I'm...scared. I'm scared it's gonna go away." She couldn't look at him because she hated admitting that, admitting she was scared. She wasn't even sure why she'd said it. But she hid her face now, behind her falling chesnut locks, just because she was ashamed and because she didn't want to reveal just how scared she was.

She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his eyes. She half expected him to try and hug her or something. "Aw, Faith," his voice said. It was a calming, sympathetic voice. "None of this is ever going to go away. The apartment, the car... everything else. You don't ever have to worry about that, not as long as I'm around. And I'll be around forever... promise. There's nothing but blue skies on the horizon." He paused a beat. "They'll be raining blood, but... "

She looked up and caught him with the goofiest smile, a smile made somewhat more devilish than usual by the red neon glare outside, but still... Faith couldn't get over this. She couldn't even remember the last time a guy -- hell, anyone -- had bothered to listen to her problems, much less try to make her feel better about them. She smiled back. "Let's get out of here," she said, crunching the point of her ice cream come down as she started the engine.

The slick black convertible slid out of the neon-bathed parking space and rolled down the gravel road. "Who's Richard Kimball, anyway?"

I'm goin' to hell in my old chevrolet
I don't know which way
Oh, help, the devil's in my car
he's gone too far
I won't see ya tomorrow
I won't see ya anymore....

"I don't think you're gonna make your meeting on time," she told him as they sped down the road.

The Mayor shrugged affably. "Not a problem. I always say there's no job more important than spending quality time with your...ahem..."

Faith waited. She wasn't letting him off, she wanted to hear. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, waiting. "Girl," he finally said with a grin.

Well, it wasn't what she'd been hoping for. But for some reason, it made her glow like nothing ever had. Faith's red lips grinned. "Kick-ass. Now we can go find some fun." She hit the gas and the needle moved up to eighty as she headed for the onramp to the freeway.

About ten miles down the road, they lost the radio. Sunnydale's one good metal station only had a radius of two miles. The car was equipped with a CD player, but Faith had left all her CDs back at the apartment. It was at this point the Mayor started belting out showtunes.

Faith stared, appalled. "Don't you know any songs from this century?!" she said.

He shrugged. "Well, let's find out. What's your all-time favorite little ditty?"

Faith gave him a look. "Iron Man," she answered dead serious.

The Mayor raised his arms in recognition. "Sabbath!"

"Ozzy!" Faith grinned.

The Mayor looked on the fence there. "I can take or leave Ozzy. Ronnie Dio was the man."

Faith conceded.

They ended up in the next town over, at a nightclub that was only made slightly more reputable by the fact that it had a salad bar. Other than that it was pretty much a club, and a loud, noisy one at that. The sweet strains of Orgy pounded over the speakers, setting the dancers into a frenzy. Faith grinned as they walked in. "Little more techno than I like, but...." She was about to head for the dance floor, and looked at the Mayor. He probably felt way out of his element here. "You okay with this?"

The Mayor was taking in the lights and noise and ravers dancing with abandon with barely more than veiled interest. "Of course it's okay!" he shouted back. "Go! Have a good time."

Didn't need to tell her twice. Faith plunged into the floor, finding half a dozen willing partners right off. She spun and slithered and twined around one partner and then another as the bass pounded over the speakers. The Orgy number was replaced by some thrasher's rehash of Sabbath's Supernaut. Faith had found a cute Latino to dance with, wrapping her legs around her partner as they moved to the beat. She left him and spun around, laughing -- and found herself face to face with a blonde, green eyed, petite girl.

Faith was startled. "B--"

It wasn't Buffy. The stranger's face was different, leaner; her eyes were too narrow, her dress all wrong. She was Buffy- cute, though; her bare shoulders wrapped in a tight white bikini top. Faith surrendered a grim smile. "Hey," she nodded in greeting.

"Hey." The girl hadn't stopped dancing, she was slinking arond in circles. "I'm Shirl."

"I'm Faith."

As if to herald her arrival, the music switched to a zipping techno beat with a female loop of "C'mon, Shirl!" over and over. Both girls danced fiercly, throwing their hair and spinning. This reminded Faith of -- no. She didn't want to think about that. She couldn't help it though -- her new partner was eerie. Faith threw her body around even harder, half to exorcise the demons and half as a wish to have that night again, herself and Buffy, side by side like it used to be. She shook her head violently. Get over it, girl. Buffy doesn't want you. You're not good enough for her Holy Crusade of saving the world from whatever. Screw her. She doesn't know what she's missing. Shirl had a friend, a pale, petite thing with her flaming red hair in a ponytail, and she was--

Faith stared. The man dancing with Shirl's friend was none other than the Mayor. And Faith was shocked to realize that he was actually dancing kind of great, jacket and tie flipping around. The fact that he was the only guy doing the samba in a club full of slamdancers didn't seem to faze him at all. Faith couldn't help uttering a laugh at this sight, slinking up to her boss. "You're crazy!!" she shouted over the music.

He was grinning, that creepy I've-got-a-heck-of-a-secret grin. He grabbed her hand and somehow made her do one of those ballroom twirls they had in old MGM movies. "Best cover there is," he told her.

Whatever. Faith twirled back, and then grabbed his wrist and his shoulder and bumped him once, just once, a bizarre choreograph of ballroom-whatever and punk mosh before she left him with his mouth open. She grinned wickedly as she moved on, dancing back to Shirl. "He with you?" the blonde asked her.

Faith nodded. "He's my boss."

"Yeah?" Shirl smirked, spinning around. "Just exactly what do you do for him?"

Faith winked at the blonde, twirling. "Everything."

She finally emerged from the dance floor, flushed, grinning, and real hungry. The Mayor had seated himself at a booth, and smiled at her. "Got you a soda," he said. "Enjoying yourself?"

Faith only nodded, flopping down in the booth and taking a sip of her soda. She frowned as Shirl and her friend emerged from the crowd of dancers, headed their way. "Hey," Shirl greeted, sitting down unasked.

Faith frowned, only slightly. These two weren't supposed to follow her. She gazed at them through narrowing eyes for a moment, noting for the first time that both women were very pale. "Hey," she finally greeted, breaking into a grin.

Shirl grinned. "You guys new in town? I think I'd remember seeing you." She looked Faith over approvingly.

"Who's the suit?" asked the redhead, smiling at the Mayor.

The Mayor smiled back. "Well, hello there. Richard Wilkins the Third, Mayor of Sunnydale." He offered his hand in a handshake.

Faith raised an eyebrow. He was probably just being politiciany, but she'd never seen any girl come on to him before (except herself), and wondered how he'd react to someone who was really trying. With a smirk she turned her attentions on Shirl. "Yeah, we're on a....whaddya call it? Campaign trail?"

The redhead grinned. Her lips were as red as her hair. "Ooh, Sunnydale. We love that place. We were there last night."

"You were, huh." Faith took a sip of her soda. "Partying?"

"All night." The Buffy-girl pursed her own red lips. "I'm Shirl. This is Deb," she said to the Mayor.

"Deborah." The redhead smiled at him. She seemed to have slunk a little closer. Faith couldn't help suppressing a smile, wondering what Mr. Family Man was gonna do about this.

He just smiled very politely at his new admirer. "Well, pleased to meet you, Deborah. Old enough to be a registered voter, are you?"

"I'm older than I look," Deb said with a wink at Shirl.

Faith nodded. "I bet." She hadn't ignored what was happening in the club around them. The music was still pounding, but fewer and fewer people were dancing. An abnormal number of them were looking over at the table where the Mayor and the Slayer were sitting. Faith looked casually about, sizing up the situation. The gals had boxed them in.... the club was gathering around.... it was night time....

She cast a look at the Mayor. He knew, too. She wasn't sure when he'd figured it out, but after so many years of having the little bastards work for you, she guessed he couldn't have been in the dark long.

"I got your back," she assured him as quietly as possible.

The place was full of vamps. Lousy with them. Faith had thought she sensed something when they drove in but chalked it up to her clock working overtime. They were surrounded. "Man," she sighed. "You think you're gonna get a night off...."

The music had even paused; changing a record, it sounded like it was waiting too. Shirl's face was already twisting. Vampires were all over now. The place was pure evil. Faith just grinned. "Oh, boy," she laughed. "You guys don't know what evil is."

She pushed with all her weight against Shirl just as the first guitar chord blasted overhead, shoving her out of the booth, onto the floor. The club sodas went spilling as the Slayer punched the vampire, getting in a few good shots before the blonde vampire threw her over, sending Faith flying into another table. She immediately rolled over and jumped up, sharpening up. Like revving the engines. Damn, she loved this.

Shirl jumped to her feet as well, growling like a kitten -- and she had buddies. As the snarling clubgoers ganged around her, Shirl pulled out something new -- her hands had grown huge, sharp, semi-steel claws.

With a roar she launched herself at Faith, catching her right in the face. Faith grimaced as the flesh above her left eyebrow was torn away. She grabbed the bitch's arm and jerked her into a wall, feeling something warm seep down her cheek. "Dammit," Faith grumbled, wiping her face on her jacket. "Gonna put someone's eye out like that."

The other vamps were going for the boss now. Couldn't have that. Faith grinned at Shirl. "Dance with you later," she promised sweetly, flinging herself back toward the table. She landed with a crash on her back, shooting her boots into one fangy face after another. She threw her head back and smiled at the Mayor. "Just relax," she told him.

"Faith, you really don't--" his upside-down face began.

She didn't have time. She leaped up and met another vamp with a vicious head butt, shoving her knee into his groin and pushing him off. This gave her time to grab her stake, and she used it, wiping out as many of the devils as she could lay hands on.

The Mayor started to get up, but something shoved him so hard that he slammed into the back of the booth. "Don't go," hissed Deborah, straddling his lap. Her yellow eyes glowed down at him, her fangs bright in her red mouth.

Any other mortal should have been scared to death. The Mayor just tilted his head, casting the she-vamp a disdainful look. "I'm laying odds you don't know who I am, young lady," he said.

Deb leered. "I don't care to lay odds." Her claws clutched his shoulders meaningfully. "I'd much rather lay other things."

The Mayor chuckled. "Well, as flattered as I am by the offer, Deborah, I'm afraid I have to turn you down. I'm rather terminally married, as it happens."

"Shoot." Deb swung her red ponytail around, eyes glowering. "Guess I'll just have to kill you, then." Lightning fast, she latched into his neck, biting down hard.

Faith, fighting off three motorcycle-gang vamps, stared. "Boss!"

The Mayor clutched the girl's back, wincing in pain. With a grim smile he clapped a hand on the back of her head, forcing her further against his neck even as her claws pushed against him, trying to pull away. He wasn't as strong as the vampire, so she got free anyway -- sputtering something that, had her fangs and most of her mouth not been melted away, would probably have been a few choice uncouth words.

The Mayor raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, smiling a cold smile. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

The vampire just gurgled, her pert little nose and most of the lower half of her heart-shaped face eaten away by the Mayor's boiling acidic blood. She didn't suffer long. With a sudden jolt, the little dear crumbled to bits in his lap, dusted -- by Faith, who'd broken away from her attackers and come to his rescue.

The Mayor couldn't help recoiling, however, groaning in disgust. "Aw, come on!!" he exclaimed at the pile of dust pooling in the creases of his slacks. "I just had these drycleaned!"

Faith didn't have time. "Groom later, let's bail!!" she shouted, grabbing his hand. There were, for once, too many for her to take on alone. She wasn't worried about herself -- but she didn't really want the Mayor to get wasted. Not after he'd bought her a car and everything.

She dragged him into the restroom, slamming the door shut on the growling vamp clubbers. Looking around, she gripped the tampon dispenser and ripped it out of the wall with a metal screech, shoving the long dispenser between the floor and the door latch, knowing it wouldn't hold them long.

Faith turned to the Mayor, who had leaned against the wall, pulled a handkerchief out of his coat, dabbing at the blood that had seeped over his pressed shirt. "Well," he sighed, "I sure miss the good old days. You never had to worry about a bunch of drunk vampires during Prohibition, I'll tell you that." He snickered, then cast a look at Faith, at the three neat claw marks lacing her face. "Say, you're hurt." He reached out his fingers to her face as she came near.

She brushed them away, annoyed. "S'okay. Don't worry about it. Lemme get a look at your neck there--" With her fingernails she peeled his frayed collar away from his damp wound... and stopped dead.

The pair of holes in his skin were only visible for a moment before they finished what they'd been doing, which was closing up. Faith stared, frowning at the gashes that weren't there anymore. They'd just.... healed. The gore was still there, but he was in a hell of a lot better shape than he should have been after being lunched on by a vampire. Faith backed off, startled. "What the f--"

"Hey, now." The Mayor gave her an admonishing glare in the dark.

Faith was heaving, and not from the fight. "You healed up faster than I did." She didn't like this at all. "What the he-- what are you?!"

He was giving her that patiently displeased look. He looked like he'd been caught at something that he didn't want anyone to know about yet. "I guess it's time for us to call it a night, huh?" he asked, looking sorry.

Faith stood in front of him. "Talk to me," she barked, more sharply than she meant to. She knew he was evil, she knew he dealt with vampires. But this was something else.... something weird. "You hired me, you said you needed protecting, and I almost got my a-- my butt kicked out there doing that. I wanna know just how much protecting you need. I'm not gonna get myself dismembered and watch you grow....new body parts or whatever it is you can do--"

The door banged suddenly, loudly. Sounded like they were using one of their own as a battering ram out there. Faith scowled. The argument would have to wait. She looked around, finding a handy window up at the top of the room. "Come on," she told him. She leaped up and grabbed the latch on the first try, ripping it open as the dispenser caved with a squeal. "Come on!" she shouted at the Mayor, linking her fingers, offering a foothold. The Mayor, after giving her a look, did what she asked and climbed up to the window, slithering out. Some part of her wondered whether he'd wait for her.

He did, grabbing her arm as she leaped up, her slender body slinking through the window just as the first vamp grabbed for her boot. She kicked the sucker in the head, and she and the Mayor took off over the gravel, making for the car.

Vampires pooled out of the club, running over the pavement toward them. Faith leaped over her car door, Dukes-of-Hazzard style, the Mayor opted to open his door. She started it up and backed over two or three of the vamps, burning rubber on pavement (or skin) as she got it in gear -- too many damn gears, she thought. A few of the vamps tried to jump in the car, but Faith was too fast for them and the convertible ripped grooves in the dirt as it took off.

But the car didn't tear off down the road. Faith was mad. And she was in the mood to hurt somebody. Or something. And there was a nice brittle club full of dead things for the destroying. She jerked the wheel and the car did a 180 degree skid, kicking up a huge cloud of dust as it headed back toward the club and the vamps assembled outside, all of whom tried comically to get out of the way of the oncoming convertible. "Faith," the Mayor started, gripping the door out of habit.

Faith looked over at him, and he looked at her. She smiled, giving him a wink.

Gunning the motor, she ran over two of the vamps, mowing them down like weeds in a field. The wall of the club was behind them but it wasn't much against a force of 100 miles an hour. CRASH.

The car piled into the club, taking much of the plyboard wall with it. The music was still blaring as the convertible spun around the dance floor, bodies bouncing off its quarter panels. The vamp clubbers crashed into each other as they were thrown by the car. The mirror ball swung violently, jerked from its fixing and plummeted into the Mayor's lap, and he chucked it into the back of the car.

The car smashed through a few more walls as Faith swung it around, hitting anything she could aim for. Vampires were now basically running to save their hides; a car wouldn't kill them but a full body cast was unpleasant whether you were alive or undead. Faith grinned, watching as they clambered over tables and each other, scrabbling to get away, yellow eyes glowing in her headlights, hitting the hood and bouncing or geting sucked under. The car bounced wildly over the bodies, and the Mayor giggled. Faith glanced over to see how he was doing. He was clutching the dash with a death grip, but the expression on his face looked like he was having the time of his life.

We're bulletproof, the odd thought came into Faith's head. Take a lot to kill me and he bounced back even quicker. The Indestructible Two.

One chump vampire was headed for the door. Faith gleefully headed right for him, smashing thru the frame as he ran like hell, screaming, into the parking lot where the convertible plowed over him with a galump-bump. That was enough, Faith was bored now. Squealing the tires violently she peeled out of there, onto the road jerkily, leaving the club utterly destroyed in her wake.

Faith whooped, high on adrenaline. "Hell yeah!" she shouted. Her ears picked up the sound of rubber squealing and gravel spitting... she glanced in the rearview. "Yeah," she said again, smiling. The vampires had found a car of their own. They were coming up behind.

"I don't think you killed 'em all," the Mayor observed, glancing in his mirror.

"Not permanently, anyway." Faith grinned. "Oh yeah... in a Chevette, no less. This should be insulting."

The tiny car came up on them surprisingly fast, veering into the other lane, pulling alongside Faith's car. No less than four vampires threw themselves into the Jaguar -- and one was Shirl. "You killed Debbie, you bastard!!" she shrieked, launching herself at the Mayor from the backseat.

Faith twisted around, watching in horror as the vampire sunk her stilleto claws into the Mayor's shoulder, dragging him up out of the seat and into the back. Faith didn't care if he was Terminator 2 or whatever. Nobody did that to her employer. Setting the cruise, Faith left the wheel and grabbed the vampire's blonde hair, yanking her head back, slamming it into the top of the windshield.

The convertible weaved dangerously over the road as the Slayer stood up in the driver's seat, getting a armhold around Shirl's slender neck. She could see one of the vamps leaning over the side of the car like he was seasick. No -- he was doing something to the gas tank. Faith's eyes widened as she saw the vamp flick a lighter.

"Hell," she muttered. "You guys have any respect for fine machinery?" She jerked on Shirl's neck, trying to break her and slow her down. The vampire drew her claws out of the Mayor just long enough to punch Faith, twisting her own head out of the Slayer's arm. Drawing back her claws, she slashed at the girl's face.

Faith ducked, delivering a punch of her own. "Uh-uh," she grunted. "You've already messed me up once tonight." Her hair was blowing right in her face, making a tricky job even trickier. She shifted her weight and swung the vamp girl down into the front seat, straddling her. Faith reached for her stake -- and realized she'd lost it. Probably back at the club.

Faith looked around. One in the front, two in the back. Check that -- two in the front. Gasoline Boy had jumped Faith's back and was straining to bite her. The car hadn't exploded into flames yet, therefore he must have stuffed a rag in the tank instead of just throwing in the lighter. Good. Faith thought she could throw him off, except the vamp had seen it coming -- and pulled the hood latch. Now the hood was closing over them; jerkily, since the wind was fighting it, but closing and trapping them inside nonetheless.

"That's not fair," grumbled Faith. She shot her fist into the vamp's face, giving up her pin on Shirl to wrestle him off. With a final punch she shoved him out of the car before the hood closed, and the vampire went tumbling down the highway, face over heels, rolling for about a hundred feet before he came to a broken, bloodied stop.

The hood was nearly on now. Faith glanced around, figuring. She had seen that the vamp hadn't been able to set the rag on fire, so she didn't have to worry about that -- yet. She had an idea. She reached out and clamped the hood fasteners, sealing the car. She hit the cruise and the car slowed very slightly as she clambered into the back seat to save the boss. Shirl's other girlfriend was trying to take a bite out of him, and though Faith knew he wasn't human anymore she still felt an obligation to help. She jumped into the fray, on top of the vamp on top of the Mayor. Shirl was clawing into the back too, and Faith used her galpal's skull to clobber Shirl in the head. To the Mayor she shouted, "Jump! Now!"

The Mayor didn't seem to want to for a second there. Then he reached up and grabbed the door handle, throwing it open, and he just slithered out. Faith tangled with the two vampires some more as the car rolled down the highway, slowing down. She fought them off long enough to reach into the front and grab the keys out of the ignition. Now the car was coasting. She kicked and clawed and scratched her way out of there, falling out the door the Mayor had left by, kicking it shut with her foot. Tumbling to a stop, she pointed the remote at the car and locked the doors, trapping the vamps inside.

Now she had to catch up with the damn thing. As Faith took off running toward it she could see Shirl's claws were already going to work on the vinyl roof. Faith ran hard, legs pumping to keep up with the still rolling car. She pulled a lighter from her pocket and tried to keep it steady against the flapping rag still stuffed in the gas tank. When it finally caught fire, she stopped dead.

The car blew up so violently that it flipped over, coming down on its top. A second explosion lit up the highway, raining gas and shrapnel down on the road. Faith hit the asphalt, her flesh cut to ribbons, her hair a mess, heaving and exerted.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, elbows on knees, gasping for air. "Hey," she heard the Mayor's voice remark dryly behind her. "That car's the bomb."

The trunk lid crashed down on the pavement, still on fire. Faith was just sick. Her nice new car. Her beautiful present. "Sorry, boss," she muttered.

The Mayor only looked briefly depressed about his investment being reduced to fiery wreckage. "Ah.... well.... don't worry about it. I'll buy you a motorcycle."He held out his hand to her.

Faith took it, pulling herself up. She rubbed her head. "Nah," she sighed. "From now on I'm walkin'." She and he began trudging down the highway, on the long long walk back to town.

End