The Airport was tiny compared to those Wesley and Faith were used to seeing. It was hardly a major hub of activity. A single brightly lit airstrip stretched into the desert. One of the two helipads contained a small helicopter used by the local news channel to report on weather, traffic conditions and special events.
The motorcycle engine idled beneath them as Wes brought it to a halt on the edge of the parking lot. A chain link fence separated it from the small hanger and flight area. His booted foot touched the ground keeping them steady.
“We’ll need to find the easiest access point,” suggested Wesley as he examined the fence perimeter. “There should be a gate for vehicle entry and egress.”
Faith rested her chin on his shoulder as she sat behind him on the bike, sitting a lot closer than was necessary, mainly because she enjoyed the fact that it made her new watcher nervous, even though he was trying hard to hide it. She felt the stiffness in his shoulders and back as she leaned against him.
“Looks like it’s lights out around here.”
The main building was dark. Except for the lights shining brightly on the tarmac there were only a few low-intensity security lights on the building and the yellow glow of the lampposts in the parking lot. The airport was closed for the evening.
“According to the directory listings, the last in-bound flight was scheduled at eight o’clock. Should this be his destination, the man we’re looking for will be coming in on an unscheduled flight.”
A growl of thunder sounded overhead drawing their eyes skyward. Dark clouds crowded along the horizon. They felt the wind pick up. The orange wind cone near the concrete helipad was pulling hard in a northeasterly direction.
“Better find some cover while we wait.”
They found the gated entry into the hangar area. A single security guard sat in a box just outside, his attention focused on a boxing bout playing on a portable television set.
Wesley frowned as he calculated the odds of sneaking by undetected. “We need to get through that gate.”
Patting him on the shoulder, Faith promised, “We will.” After climbing off the bike, she dropped her backpack to the ground before slowly unzipping and removing her leather jacket, tossing it at Wes.
He caught it as it slapped him in the chest, but his attention was glued to hers. A skintight tank top of blue and black paisley design left little to the imagination. The way it clung to her perky curves revealed that there was only skin beneath.
When he finally looked up, Faith stood grinning, the dimples of her cheeks flashing in amusement. Wesley realized with no small embarrassment that he had been staring, but quickly surmised that was just the effect the slayer was going for.
Still, that sort of thing did not seem very appropriate. “What are you planning?”
Without saying a word, Faith walked in the direction of the security booth, her leather-clad hips swaying as she walked. Wes reached up to loosen his tie, and swallowed hard.
Rapping her knuckles on the wooden doorframe caught the guard’s attention. His head snapped around, blue eyes wide with surprise. The top half of the split door was open to the night air, while the lower half was locked between them.
“Sorry to scare you,” Faith raised one arm and leaned forward. “Guess you don’t get much action around here.”
The guy was young, mid-twenties, and kind of cute despite the dorky uniform. “No, not much.”
“Too bad for you,” she winked.
A squeak sounded from the spring in his chair as he stood up. “Can I—can I help you with something?”
Faith let her gaze travel slowly down the guard’s fit frame before popping back up to his bemused face. “Hope so.”
From his position in the shadows, Wesley couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see the reaction on the guard’s face and prayed that his own had not been quite so obvious. It had not taken long to discover that Faith flirted with anything that moved, and Rupert Giles’ early warning about trying to control her came to mind.
Whatever seduction game she was playing had reeled the poor young man into her web. She stood close, touched him with her hand, and then pointed toward the road. The guard nodded, smiled at her with his model-perfect teeth, and made a move to go back inside the booth.
As soon as he reached for the telephone, Faith fisted her hands high above her head and brought them down sharply against his upper back. Wesley saw his head crash into the desk and his body slump forward.
Finally.
He turned on the engine to the motorbike and drove it up to the security booth just as Faith pressed the release button on the gate control. “That scenario was completely unnecessary. Do you always toy with your intended target before finishing a fight?”
“So what if I do?” Faith pulled out the handcuffs from the holder on the guard’s belt cuffing the semi-conscious man to a secure metal bar attached to the wall. Holding out a hand to Wes, “Duct tape.”
Wesley opened up her rucksack and tossed her the tape deciding that he was going to say nothing further on the subject. They had a job to do tonight. His concerns had to wait.
Ripping off a piece of duct tape, Faith was about to put it over the guard’s mouth. He came to just in time to ask, “Why?”
“Because I can,” Faith pressed the duct tape over his mouth and followed with a kiss leaving her berry-colored lip prints behind.
Wesley shoved the rucksack and jacket into her arms when she approached him. He was not pleased. “Get on. Time is getting short. We need to be in position.”
“Think you got me pegged?” Faith asked after swinging her leg over the back of the bike and snuggling up behind him. With her lips close to his ear, she added teasingly, “Maybe I just wanted to make you jealous.”
“Oh, Faith,” he harrumphed, “do be serious.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
As she laughed, the thunder cracked loudly overhead drawing his eyes to the heavy black clouds blanketing the sky. The weather report predicted clear skies all week. The air smelled of static electricity, charged and ready to strike. Perhaps it was not the first time the weatherman had gotten it wrong, but the approaching storm felt more like an ill omen.
Once inside the gate, they headed toward the hangar. The doors were already wide open allowing Wesley to steer the bike directly into the shelter.
“We can watch the runway and the helipad from there,” Wesley pointed toward a set of windows on the far side of the hanger.
There were several small private planes inside the building and an area toward the back that looked like it might contain an office and supply rooms.
“I’m gonna check things out and make sure we’re alone,” said Faith before jogging in that direction. “We’re not the only ones looking for that prisoner.”
Wesley settled in at the window, his eyes trained on the tarmac, and wondered what he could do about Faith. She was a wildcard. From what he could tell, Mr. Giles had given her far too much freedom. This whole ploy with Mayor Wilkins had the girl up to her neck in danger. Somehow, he had to convince her that she did not need to do it all on her own.
However, it might be best to make it understood that the flirting had to end here and now. Whether or not it was her natural teasing or some sort of test, he found it to be very…distracting.
Faith bounced to a halt in front of him. “All clear. Looks like it’s just you and me for the next couple of hours—unless we get lucky.”
Lit by a hint of suspicion, his eyes narrowed. “Get lucky?” Wasn’t that an American term for…
“Nicolau and his cronies might show up,” Faith clarified, shucking off her jacket and tossing both it and the pack onto a tarp-covered box. “I haven’t staked anything all night. God, I hope he comes.”
Leaning against the wall at an angle where he could see her and still monitor airport activity, Wesley warned, “Let us hope he does not. Any encounter with him is likely to be one you can’t win alone.”
Scoffing, “You’re here. I could use a cheering section.”
The low blow rankled him, but outwardly, he remained cool. Perhaps he was not yet field-tested, but that did not mean he was without skills. Wesley was not about to be drawn into an argument on that subject.
Faith was far too cocky about her slaying skills thinking she could take on anything or anyone without any consequences to herself. Either she had not paid attention at the revelation of Nicolau as a Banished One, or did not understand the extent of his power.
“Nicolau Cibran is a favored childe of the Master of the Solaris, a vampire hundreds of years old, not a fledgling just out of the grave.”
He caught a hint of doubt in her eyes. Stubbornly, she raised her chin a notch. “That supposed to make some kind of difference? I stake him and he’s dust.”
“Would fighting Angel be different than a newly risen vampire?”
The word no was on the tip of her tongue, her lips already curved, denial glinting in her eyes. “Angel’s tough. He can fight—but I could take him.”
“The vampires you slay on a daily basis are nothing compared to the strength Angel wields, or the experience he has gleaned in the art of death. Do you imagine Nicolau, who is doubtless hundreds of years older, to be any less deadly?”
Faith paced across the floor, her jaw tight, glaring back at him. Turning, she headed back to her original position, crossing her arms. Anger flared up, but not directed at him. It was all too clear that she had not given it a thought.
While she stewed in silence, Wesley added, “Wherever he is he won’t be alone. By now he has increased his cadre of vampires.”
Faith leaned back onto the crate and shrugged flippantly. “They’ll get dusted, too, if they get in my way. Nicolau can’t be that tough.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet.”
A flash of lighting streaked across the sky, followed seconds later by the growling thunder. The approaching storm was moving in at an eerie rate, the wind picking up and visibility diminishing fast. Though the air was full of electricity, the rain had not yet begun to fall.
“Buffy killed the Master of Aurelius,” she had that ah-ha look on her face, “so why don’t you think I could take out someone who’s not even that powerful?”
His jaw tightened at the memory of the reports he had read before coming here to Sunnydale. Defeating the Master had not been a walk in the park. “Buffy died. It’s the reason you’re here.”
Pushing back to her feet, Faith stepped forward, shoulders taut, jaw tight. “Lucky for her she has nine lives.”
Snipping back, “You’re the one sounding a bit catty.”
One moment he was on his way to making a point and the next her anger reached a flashpoint. Faith snarled in fury, charged forward and flattened him against the wall, grabbing both wrists to pin him in place with her body.
Wes yelped in surprised at the unexpected move. The file on Faith was riddled with notes on her willfulness, defiance of authority, and temper. The quick move caused him to yelp in surprise, eyes widening as he realized it might not be wise to spark a slayer’s wrath.
Her chest heaved with panting breaths. Like the storm, she was ready to strike. With each breath, he could feel the hard tips of her breasts brushing his chest through the thin layers of their clothes. He was not certain as to how he could disentangle himself from this situation, and not simply in the physical sense.
“F-Fai…,” he started to speak, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything except his body’s involuntary response.
Feeling it, she stilled against him. Wesley gulped hard. Explanations and apologies swirled around in his head, but he could not form them into a cohesive sentence. It was so awkward, so inappropriate.
A dangerous glint replaced the red-hot anger. “What’s wrong, baby? Cat got your tongue?” Her hands moved to capture his head swiftly drawing it down to hers.
The Watcher’s Field Guide: When entrapped by a more powerful creature it is sometimes best to submit oneself to its will. Survive long enough to plot escape, find a defensive position, or organize offensive tactics.
Surviving a lip-lock with one’s slayer and protégée seemed strangely applicable to that particular lesson.
Willing his body to cooperate, Wesley flopped back against the wall letting his arms hang at his sides. His fists curled up at the urge to grasp onto the slim hips nudging against him. As slack as possible, he let her mouth explore his, managing to avoid the urge to kiss back.
Faith’s anger quickly dissipated. Wesley’s bottom lip was still trapped between hers when she stopped moving seeming to realize just what she was doing. A soft pop as she disengaged her mouth from his signaled that his strategy had worked.
Wide brown eyes darted up to meet his staring back as he did his best to look coldly unmoved by her rather incendiary technique. There was only a tiny crack sounding in his voice when she put both hands on his chest and pushed away slowly. “Faith, I do believe that our time would be better served by concentrating on our duties.”
“That’s really all you think about. I give you a chance to score some of this and you’d rather talk shop.” After a grunt of disgust or frustration, Faith walked back toward the crate and hopped up on it. “You gay? Getting hard doesn’t mean you don’t bat for the other team.”
“What? Certainly not!”
The dimples were back along with her teasing laughter. “Gotta admit it’s quite a bat,” she winked.
Choking on his response, Wesley found himself losing control of the conversation again. “Faith! Do try to remember why you are here. Cordelia needs your help. I believe you consider her a friend.”
“Yeah.”
The mere mention of her friend subdued Faith instantly. Her eyes slid over to the window where the first raindrops began to spatter across the double-paned glass. No sign of the enemy. Yet.
“Then let me help you help your friend, Faith. Heed my words when I tell you that Nicolau Cibran is a very dangerous vampire—and bringing him to an end will take more than a well-aimed stake.”
On the crate, Faith shifted forward attentively. “I’m listening.”
Before he launched into a discussion of expanding her skill sets, Wesley thought it best to close the door on tonight’s awkward indiscretions. “There will be no further mention or repetition of that kiss. I am here to train you and to help you stay alive. Are we clear on that?”
“Five by five.”
