67: The Quinn Residence, 21 Quincy Street, Eastside, Sunnydale
“They’re here,” Angel’s words caught Giles’ attention as he neared the end of his report to the 911 Operator.
Giles glanced toward the front door where it hung open to the night air, the outer screen door dangling from broken hinges. He presumed that the vampire’s acute hearing detected the approach of Buffy and her friends. With their arrival, he saw Angel move for the first time in the last few minutes.
He had been standing watch over Faith when they arrived; her bruised and bloodied body unmoving, unconscious. From the looks of the place, she had put up a hell of a fight— and lost. Angel had not said much, letting the evidence before them speak for itself.
From the dark determination on his face, it was certain Angel was not going to let those responsible go unpunished. Considering what the vampire was capable of doing to his enemies, Giles counted himself lucky not to be among them. There was a visible tension in his shoulders, he observed, no doubt caused by waiting around here when he needed to be out there searching for—
“Where’s Cordelia?” demanded Xander as he pushed past Buffy who had stopped short upon catching sight of the pooling blood on the hall floor.
Buffy reached for Angel, wrapping her arms around his waist. He did not react for the first few moments, then put an arm around her shoulder as they stared down at the pale corpse that was once Cordelia’s grandmother, Beverly Quinn, her pale skin mottled blue, the hilt of an ornate dagger deeply lodged in her chest.
“It’s Grandma Bev,” Willow squeaked in horror as she stumbled into the hall, wide-eyed with shock. “But she was so nice.”
Giles cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I’m afraid that bad things happen to nice people, Willow. Mrs. Quinn evidently got involved with whatever happened here tonight.”
“Is Faith gonna be okay?” asked Buffy as she moved out of Angel’s loose embrace and approached the unconscious Slayer. Then, glancing at the stranger in the room, “Who’s that guy?”
Squeezing away the tension building up behind his eyes, Giles touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his glasses lifting and then falling back into place. “This is Faith’s new Watcher.”
Crouched next to Faith, the young man looked quite starched in his suit and bow tie. Giles could see that Buffy was sizing him up. From the moment they stepped into the house, Giles could tell that Wesley had never seen anything like this up close. Perhaps in pictures or slides, studied, but not experienced.
Standing up straight, he introduced himself with a noticeable stutter, “W-Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I arrived just yesterday. We have not had the opportunity to meet. I wish the circumstances had been more,” he glanced down at his new charge, “pleasant.”
“Why don’t you go outside and direct the ambulance when it arrives,” Giles said when Wesley started to look a bit green about the gills. It would not do to have the man lose his supper in front of the others.
Wesley looked startled by the suggestion, but nodded. Carefully, he stepped over Faith’s sprawled form in order to find a clear path out the front door. He paused at the threshold, looking puzzled for a moment and then, realizing why, met Giles’ gaze with a concerned frown before heading out of the house.
“What happened?” Buffy asked him as she knelt next to Faith. Coming up with her own conclusions, said, “The demon did this. He came after Cordelia, killed her grandma, and Faith couldn’t stop him.”
A hoarse sound came from the girl lying on the floor, “No.”
With a hand on her shoulder, Buffy called out, “Faith!”
“Dear God, you’re awake,” Giles instantly focused on her.
“Where’s Cordelia?” Xander moved down to join Buffy at her side and Giles joined them while also noting that Willow stood statue-like near Bev Quinn’s body, apparently too caught up in staring at the congealing blood to move.
Exposing these children to such a ghastly scene was something he would have to think about later. Right now, his priority was discovering what Faith could tell them. It might provide the means to Cordelia’s rescue, assuming that the demon had not already made her a sacrifice.
Faith groaned in pain, barely conscious, but coming around fast. It was almost too much to try to speak. When her eyes opened, through the gaps between the huddled forms around her, she saw Bev. Her own horrified scream echoed in her ears, but she did not recognize its sound as her hand stretched outward.
Someone caught it, held Faith’s hand while muttering words that did nothing to sooth or calm her. “No, no!” Denial rang out, but the sight of Cordelia’s beloved grandmother stretched out on the floor did not change.
“Faith,” she heard Giles’ voice as if from a distance, “you must try not to move. Save your energy. We must know what happened here.”
With a grunt, she turned over, shaking off the hands trying to provide comfort she did not deserve. Faith scooted past them to reach Bev, ignoring the blood. She grasped onto the hilt of the dagger ignoring the, “Perhaps you shouldn’t…,” advice coming from Giles’ direction and with her remaining strength pulled it from Bev’s body.
She dropped it and the dagger clanked making a circle on the tile floor next to Willow’s feet. Faith’s head lay on Bev’s stomach as she collapsed against her. In the distance, the sound of sirens began to wail.
“What now?” asked Buffy as she helped to move Faith over to the couch. “Faith isn’t going to be much help finding Cordelia.”
Faith’s eyelids fluttered as she struggled to open them. She swallowed thickly, bruised lips crusted with blood. When she opened her mouth to speak, it was only a whisper, “Angel?”
“Hey, Dead Boy,” Xander turned around after hearing Faith ask for the vampire. “She wants to say someth— hey, where’d he go?”
Buffy whirled around. “Angel?” He was gone. She darted over to the door thinking he might be waiting with whatsisname, but there was no sight of him.
Clearing his throat, Giles spoke up, “Angel only agreed to stay until you got here. He’s got a lead to follow.”
Irked that he left without her, Buffy asked, “What lead?”
It was Faith who answered them, her voice a little stronger, “Drusilla.”
“But—,” doubt clouded Buffy’s feature. She glanced at the evidence around the room. This was not the work of a vampire. “Drusilla was here?”
“Yes,” Giles confirmed. “Angel told us that he could still scent her here. Though it is unknown whether she arrived before or after Cordelia was taken. For that, we must turn to Faith.”
Everyone literally turned staring expectantly as Faith struggled to sit up, her hair and clothes matted with blood, most of it not her own. Wiping a hand across an oozing cut on her chin, she only managed to smear the blood further. She did not notice, nor seem to feel the weight of their stares as she continued to look toward Bev Quinn.
“She’s dead.”
“C-Cordelia?” asked Xander his voice going up an octave.
Faith’s dark brown eyes lifted slowly bypassing Xander for Giles. “This is all my fault.”
“I think she’s in shock,” Giles muttered to the others. Then more loudly as if Faith had not been able to hear him before, “The demon is responsible. You tried to stop him, a valiant attempt against such a strong adversary.”
Faith pressed her swollen lips closed, her gaze sliding over to Buffy who watched her with a growing sense of suspicion. The look on her face proved that much and Faith knew it was well deserved. She had kept things from Buffy and now Bev Quinn had paid the price.
“You don’t understand,” Faith unsteadily found her way to her feet. Pointing at it, told them, “That’s my dagger. She’s dead because of me.”