Nowhere Land - Wandering

I wandered.

There really wasn't any other way to describe the aimless and purposely time-consuming manner in which I walked over the terrain, always keeping the caves in sight, but never quite having an actual destination. Insanely, my initial purpose in wandering was to give the unpredictably aggressive Slayer-turned-vampire ample opportunity to attack me from behind. Of course, this also meant I was giving Faith just as much time to reconsider that particular action.

When, after ten or fifteen minutes had passed, I found myself decidedly not deceased, I found that I had apparently gambled successfully and Faith was, at least for the moment, not interested in taking my life.

It had been a very risky gamble, and one that I wondered I would be constantly making from this day onward. Faith, I was sensing, would always be the failure I would always be trying to erase from the record and the debt I would always owe. Fair or not, true or not, it would take more than a little sacrifice on my part to settle that account.

Somehow, I knew Buffy would not be happy with the situation. But I did hope she would understand my need to make the attempt.

Finally having had enough of the scenic tour of this corner of Pylea, I turned in the direction of the caves and picked up a brisk pace. Hearing voices, I was glad to know that people had begun gathering in the shelter-- light was dimming, and quickly. I stepped through the mouth of the cave to see Buffy and Fred just finishing some conversation.

Instinctively, I wanted to back away. Not that I imagined the two women were discussing me, and not that I imagined the conversation would be unflattering. There didn't seem to be any animosity or frustration in the air, but there was just something inherently frightening about seeing one's significant other conversing with one of one's best friends of the same gender.

Once they saw me, of course, I knew I was stuck.

"Ladies," I offered, attempting to quell my senseless disquiet.

((Open to Buffy and Fred))

Been to a Place - Gumshoe

"It's like she disappeared."

And with that, I suggested to Willow that if the mystical route had come up short, that there were other ways to track a person down, even if someone else was decidedly against their being found. It wouldn't be the first time I would be taking the traditional route in my detective work, and I only hoped that the intervening time hadn't rendered me entirely rusty at it.

I made one, and only one, attempt to suggest to Willow that she remain behind in case Leanne returned, and to give the location spell another go. Of course, she would have none of the idea, calling the front desk with instructions that should the young lady contact us or return to the rooms, we were to be informed immediately by cell phone.

Agreeing to meet Willow in the lobby in twenty minutes, I busied myself with preparations. Changing into "work" clothes was the first step, and then a quick phone call to the Council. There were two ways to pry information from the minds of potential informants, at least at my disposal, and the cash that would soon be wired out of the Council's quite deep pockets and into mine was the first and most expedient method.

The pistols that hung heavily in their holsters, riding just behind each hip, were the swifter and sometimes more effective solution. I slipped a corded turtleneck jumper on, and then my leather coat on top. Confirming that the pistols and the various other weapons and implements with which I was equipped were not apparent, I moved downstairs.

Returning to the same nightclub in which we'd discovered Leanne during the day was an unpleasant revelation. Smoke, darkness and moving colored lights hid the shabbiness of the walls, along with apparently, a multitude of sins, the detritus of which were being swept up by a scowling janitor.

The bartender, Leanne's boyfriend, was either still there or had returned to work early. Both Willow and myself asked questions, and unlike the night before, the responses became just a touch evasive, only slightly unsure. My instincts flared, demanding to know more. Hinting at the money, I made my first attempt. The young man seemed tempted, but refused.

I was no longer in a negotiating mood. Reaching over the bar, I grasped the young man by the front of the shirt and hauled him over the countertop. Shooting a warning glance at the janitor before the man could even conceive of calling for help, I began to march the bartender towards a back room.

"If you'll excuse us," I said to Willow over my shoulder, "we'll talk man-to-man for a few minutes."

((Open to Willow))