Need for Faith
I do not own BtVS or NfS: Hot Pursuit. Well, I own a Steam copy of the latter, but I don’t think this counts. The story makes me now profit anyhow.Author's Note:
A one-shot to celebrate playing NfS:HP on a new Gaming Rig. Expect absolutely NO continuation for this. EVER. Also, not beta-read. Not even by ME. Just wrote this in the last hour and posting now.
Season 4 and Season 7, timeline aligned (say, BtVS season 1 was in 2007). Used this
It was an obscure motel far from civilization… Or at least far from Faith’s definition of civilization, which included night clubs and non-moonshine alcohol. But that suited her fine. She was hiding from her past and this little hole in the middle of nowhere. Far from the Watcher’s Council, far from Sunnydale… but not too far, if she really had to go back. She may have a lot of mistakes on her record, she may have sided with capital-E Evil, but if the world ended the game would be over. And that was not something she would accept. So here she was, in the cheap motel room, mulling over her past…
Suddenly she felt a disturbance with her Slayer senses. Those were not really attuned and rarely helped her to detect the opposition. When they kicked in, it usually meant something more powerful or at least a larger than usual pack of vampires. She would normally ignore something like that, as she did when she passed through San Francisco a while ago, but she intended to stay in this little hellhole for a while – getting rid of any nuisances would be a plus here.
She rose from the bed and slowly approached the doors – the disturbance in the senses still did not go away – then opened them and looked around. What she saw were two large demons dragging a young guy in his boxers out of another room and down to the parking lot.
“Fuck this,” Faith swore and went back to dress herself (sleeping commando did not really help with quickly going out). She also looked in her bag for any weapon that may be useful in this situation. Obviously she found nothing more than a stake. “Fuck,” she repeated. Being on the run did not help with her weapons situation. A beating would have to be the way here…
By the time she was done with the demons, she felt thoroughly trashed. Her arm was broken, her skin was turning blue all over and she had a distinct limp in her leg. Still, she would heal inside a week. The guy the demons had abducted seemed worse. A quick check confirmed that he would not live until morning, he was barely breathing as it was. She was under no obligation to help him, but he seemed hot before the abduction, so…
“Fuck this,” for the millionth time today she repeated her unofficial motto. She leaned over the guy. “Do you have a phone?” she asked him. Hers was left in the motel, some ten minutes back though the forest. The guy may not live that long with nobody around to help him. As he was not answering she started a search through his pockets…
“Who?...” The guy suddenly opened his eyes and asked. She paused, her hand in his pocket.
“You took a beating,” she told him. “I found you here unconscious. Do you have a cell phone? I need to call an ambulance or something.”
“No…” he started, then paused as a coughing fit made him unable to speak. “No cops… No phone…” he tried to explain.
“Riiight…” Faith confirmed. The guy must be in a situation similar to hers, only with cops, not Watchers, after him. Which left him, plainly speaking, dead.
“Air Pompei,” the guy began again. “Noon… Take the slip… Win…” he tried explaining, then the coughing fit returned.
Faith tried to stabilize him, to do anything to help, but the guy was evidently dying. She preferred not to have another human die on her, but there was nothing she could do to help… Fifteen minutes later, when the guy died, she said resignedly “fuck,” and sat down on her butt. “Not fucking again.”
It took her another quarter of an hour to come to grips with herself. She was not sure if she understood the guy correctly, but he might have been a street racer, an illegal street racer… And he wanted her to take his place in the next race he had lined.
She returned to searching his pockets and found the pink slip he mentioned.
“Fuck me sweet,” she explained once she read the information on the little piece of paper. The guy wanted her to race in a fucking BMW M6 Convertible. Convertible. Fuck, I would look so hot in it,
she thought. Guess I’d have to win the race first though. Well… Just how hard can it be?
The gauntlet was closing on her. And closing fast. There were three fast interceptors behind her, the helicopter was hovering overhead, and her radio just picked up a request for more units. And a roadblock ahead. Things were looking bleak… Or they would be, if it was any other driver. After three years of racing around Seacrest County she knew the roads better than the inside of her pockets. And in this car she expected the cops to have exactly zero chances of catching her.
Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Super Sport had a 1.200 bhp engine under the hood, electronically limited to 415 km/h (the car WAS European, after all) to protect the tires. The tires that would explode after mere fifteen minutes of driving at such speeds. The car she was driving had the limitation removed and a special coating to protect the tires (she contacted a dark magician from Chicago for the latter). There were also some other aces in her sleeve, awaiting the moment they were really needed. So far, none were.
She turned off the highway and into the country, the police had Bugatti’s as well and the chopper was faster anyway. Now, once on the more curvy roads…
She smiled as she saw a roadblock ahead. This was what she was waiting for. With her Slayer reaction times she was able to squeeze into the teeniest openings without crashing her car. And the cops behind her would have to slow down… or crash. Which left only the helicopter overhead. Her hand moved to the additional panel she had installed in the car to control the various upgrades made to it. This is going to be fun.
She initialized the EMP targeting system, aiming it for the chopper. As expected, the pilot immediately slowed down to let her pass. Where an EMP hit would only make a car computer reset for a few seconds, maybe enough for it to fall off the tarmac, it could crash a helicopter in those few seconds without pilot control. The roadblock was now a hundred meters ahead, just over a second away at the 300 km/h she was driving. The cops behind her were already slowing down. Her smile only grew…
She pushed the Turbo button on her panel and squeezed through the roadblock. For a good measure she deployed a spike strip in the opening she used. And then the Turbo kicked in. It was no mere Nitrous Oxide used in the races. This was a system designed to make her car go faster, not just adding acceleration. Properly installed, it added around twenty percent to the engine power. Combined with Nitro injection at the same time…
Faith’s car shot forward, accelerating at a rate the cops behind had never seen before. As she passed the 400 km/h mark, even the helicopter fell behind. This was no highway, no long straight were human racers limited their use of Turbo. Slayer reflexes and Faith’s driving skills guaranteed that she could steer the car at these speeds even in city traffic. And on the narrow forest roads, as was the situation now. Where the interceptors fell behind due to speed, the maneuverability of the chopper was its limit – it’s momentum was too great at the speeds and without surface friction it could not turn as fast as her. And the car was still accelerating. Normal tires would have blown up long ago – these, magically beefed up, were still in great condition. Faith made another turn and the last of the cops disappeared from her rear mirror…
A blonde woman was running through the cemetery at her top speed, escaping from some unknown pursuer. Faith needed only a fraction of a second to decide that she needed help. Someone running from something in the cemetery could only mean one thing – that the thing was a vampire. “Classic Sunnydale,” Faith muttered to herself. She came back due to the feeling of oncoming doom and now this. She left her hiding place and approached the commotion as the woman fell down, with the pursuer kneeling down to grab her. Faith quickly rushed in and picked him up, throwing the – now evident due to his game-face – vampire into a nearby tombstone.
“Whatcha wanna do to her, vamp?” he asked the vamp, circling him, “Huh? Somthin' like this?” she threw a punch, making him fall down again. The bleached blond hair gave him a Billy Idol look, something she saw quite often among her fellow racers in Seacrest.
“Nice punch you got there,” the vampire answred, slowly standing up. “Lemme guess. Leather pants, nice right cross, doe eyes, holier-than-thou glower...you must be Faith.”
“Oh, goodie,” she shrugged and grinned “I'm famous.”
“Heard about you. Bit of a misunderstanding here. I'm–“
“Spike,” she finished. “Yeah, we've met before.”
“We have? I don't think we–“ she stopped him by kicking him in the chest. He had no interest standing up and starting something again. “Bloody hell! What're you doing? I'm on your side.”
“Yeah? I don’t do this hardcore shit anymore. I've reformed,” she informed the vampire, punching him again.
“So have I,” Spike responded, throwing a counter-punch. “I reformed way before you did…” he paused as she once again punched him. “Stop…” Punch. “…hitting…” Counter-punch. “…me! We're on the same side.”
Faith just smirked at that.
“Of the law? Maybe. One the scale of good and evil? Please. You think I'm stupid?”
“Well, yeah,” the vampire answered, then grinned evilly.
“You were attacking that-” Faith started to say when someone punched her in the face, knocking her down. “Fuck,” she finished.
“Sorry, Faith,” a voice she knew informed her innocently. “I didn't realize that was you. I would have used a knife.”
“It's all right, B.” Faith smirked. “Luckily, you still punch like you used to.”
Buffy just glared at Faith for that comment, then partially turned to Spike. It did not pay to not watch the other Slayer. “You OK?” she asked him.
“Yeah. Terrific,” the vampire answered.
Faith just looked at them both, shocked and confused. “Are you protecting vampires? Are you the bad slayer now? Am I the good slayer now?”
“He's with me. He has a soul,” Buffy informed her, still glaring.
“Oh, he's like Angel?”
“No!” Spike protested vocally.
“Sort of,” Buffy explained.
“I am nothing like Angel,” Spike continued to protest.
“He fights on my side,” Buffy finished, then shrugged. Looking at Faith, she complained: “Which is more than I can say for some of us.”
“Yeah, well if he's so good, what's he doing chasing down defenseless– “ Faith started to protest when the young woman that running from Spike just a minute ago tackled her to the ground, a vampire face visible in her visage.
“That's one of the bad guys,” Buffy simply pointed, not stepping into the fight. The Faith she knew was evil and while Buffy was mostly over their conflict after the three years that passed since the body-swap, she was not entirely sure about the other girl.
“You should make 'em wear a sign,” Faith said angrily, fighting the female vampire. It required considerably less of her strength, the woman was obviously a fledgling. She knocked her down, then half-turned to Buffy “A stake, please?” she asked. “Thanks.” It took her just a second more to dust the vampire once she had the stake in her hand. Her reflexes had improved drastically after years of driving at extreme speeds.
“Angel's dull as a table lamp. And we have very different coloring,” Spike continued explaining the differences.
“OK, catching up,” Faith interrupted him, dusting herself. “Anyway I’m kind’a here to help. Anything else I gotta know?”
“Nice to have you back,” Buffy said, and smiled. “Let’s go home and I’ll explain everything on the way.”
“Right,” Faith agreed. “Let me just get the car. Sorry, bleach-boy, but you will have to walk.” She paused, then turned to Buffy. “Unless you are afraid to ride with me, blondie?” she smiled suggestively at the other Slayer. Buffy turned red.
The car was parked at the entrance of the cemetery and it only took them a few minutes of awkward silence to get to it. While Buffy only blinked, looking at the vehicle, Spike’s jaw fell down and he turned to stare at Faith.
“So, you’ve got a sports car,” the blonde Slayer asked her counterpart.
“Well, yeah, came across it one day,” Faith answered noncommittally.
“Came across it?” Buffy asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Faith shrugged. “Won a pink-slip racing.”
Both Buffy and Spike stared at her more.
“What can I say, I’m a wanted fugitive. Illegal street racing.”
“So you won one of the most expensive cars while street racing?” Spike finally asked.
“They only sell them to multimillionaires, I couldn’t have bought one, eh?”
“So while I was flipping burgers in Doublemeat Palace, trying to keep a roof over my head, you were driving around, racing, in a car that is probably worth more than my house?” Buffy whined.
“Well, yeah,” Faith shrugged. She chose not to inform the other Slayer that she owned a few other super-cars as well.
“I so need to be evil,” Buffy whined again, then turned to Spike. “Can you teach me how to be evil? Please?”
Faith laughed at that and simply shoved the other Slayer into the car, then got in herself.
“Now, fasten your seat belt, B,” Faith demanded, starting the car, “I’m gonna show you just how fast can a Slayer be.” She smirked. Then she hit the Turbo button…
“Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…” Spike only heard the scream as the car suddenly accelerated with a blue flame coming out of its exhaust…