I'll let armies loose
I spent the rest of the night out. Didn't care that I had shit to do around the castle, soldiers to assign to posts, things to supervise. Didn't give a flying fuck. Let Mr. 'I'm On Top of Everything' Warren take care of it. Didn't he say he was bored anyway? Well if he's so fucking bored he can do my job too. Prick. I had things to do. Things that
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Oh, I'd gotten Warren's invitation to the party all right. Of course, he couldn't officially leave me out of his little plans without stirring up a rumor mill amongst the press, so the crafty bastard had his messenger ever-so conveniently arrive late to my estate to give me my invitation. By the time I'd read it, I had ten minutes to get to this party. Ten minutes to get from Newport, Rhode Island to Washington, D.C.
Smug bastard...
I was sure he was hoping I'd give up and just not bother to show, so of course I cleaned myself up and hopped my private jet to the fabled Mears Castle. Sure, I'd considered just kicking open the door to the grand dining hall and giving Warren a very long, loud piece of my mind... but, uh, at this point in the game I've got to walk on eggshells around him. After all, now he has what he wants. Everything that he wants. He doesn't have any real need for me anymore. Why else would he stick me with Rhode Island (aside from all the jokes he made about the land being divided according to height)? I mean, who goes to Rhode Island? Hell, who lives in Rhode Island? Warren's probably just looking for an excuse to have a nice little accident to take me out of the picture. I don't need to give him any more reason to hurry up on any of those plans of his.
What I'd give to watch him fall flat on his face. To see someone take him down a few rungs, or better yet, pull him off the whole ladder.
Yeah, like that was gonna happen anytime soon. So now, there I was, sitting on one of those fancy stone benches of his by one of those overly elaborate fountains, glaring at my own distorted reflection in the fountain.
"What are you looking at?"
My reflection didn't answer. Just kinda wiggled from the ripples.
"What, you think I should go in there and tell Warren what I think of him?"
More wiggling from water-Jonathan.
"Oh, I want to. I'd walk right up to him, in his fancy suit with his fancy wine and fancy female servants. I'd look him right in the eye and say-"
"Fuck you!"
I hit the deck like I'd expected Warren to drop a nuclear bomb on me for committing a thought-crime. Lucky for me, it wasn't Warren at all. Picking myself off of the fancy walkway, I dusted off my suit pants and looked around for where the sound had come from. It didn't take me long to notice the familiar figure of Faith staggering a bit beside a broken bench. Whether she was drunk or angry or both, I wasn't sure. In fact, there was just one thing I was sure about.
She's really, really hot. Like, like Wonder Woman hot, or Seven of Nine hot. But kinda scary in a she-can-punch-straight-through-my-face kinda way. But still... humyna-humyna-humyna wow.
I might not have been able to get up the guts needed to confront Warren, but I'm proud to say that I managed to walk right on over to Faith (or, you know, casually stroll her way so I just happened to come across her), look straight up at her beautiful, rage-filled eyes, and say in my suave st of voices...
"Uh, hey there, Faith. Did, uh... did that bench do something so bad that it deserved to die like that?"
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No way, that wasn't me anymore. Now was important, I was somebody. Sure that somebody might have overheard someone call her 'Warren's bitch', even if she pretended that she didn't. And what was even more sad was that I wondered if it was true. Damn, there goes that third person detatchment...
It had occured to me that I was wicked shitfaced and if I went back inside I would probably do something stupid. Like pick a fight with Warren. Wouldn't that just be the perfect end to a shitty evening?
Balling my fists up for a second I saw something move in front of me. Instantly narrowing my eyes I dropped into a defensive position until I recognized the little dwarf. Jonathan. He was pretty whiny, but usually I dug him more than Andrew. Andrew was cool and all, but Jonathan was a bitch. I kinda liked that about him. He wasn't afraid to tell Warren to go fuck himself. Not like I'd ever tell the little punk, but I kinda respected that about him.
And hey. Where the hell was he during dinner?
"Well ya know, it just pissed me off." I said in a suggestive manner. Pretty much meaning, don't fuck with me or I'll rip your testicles off, little man.
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"It's, uh... good that you put that upstart in it's place then."
I smiled at her, though trying to conceal my fear as much as possible. I wasn't as sturdy as that bench that was now in pieces.
"So, would it be a safe guess that you're out here because of Warren?"
I glanced up at one of the dimly lit windows on one of the upper floors of the castle, the one I knew to be Warren's bedroom and study. He liked to be able to look out over the courtyard and see everything he had, not to mention all the guards milling around. Not that he was afraid without them, of course. Especially not after he had that surgery to insert the Orbs of Nezzla'khan into him (which I still never got the chance to try). No, he just liked to remind himself of how many people there were willing to do his bidding. I think he might have got off on it.
"Something happen at that big dinner or something? Hey... you wouldn't happen to have been talking about me in there, were you? Stupid Warren..."
I wish I knew what he was up to lately. He’d seemed so… cheery. More so than usual these days. He had to have something up his sleeve, I knew he did, and I hope it didn’t involve me. So yeah, maybe… maybe I’d slipped a few pieces of information to some of the growing rebel underground. Maybe I’d forwarded some of the Nobles’ messages to certain disenchanted parties at Wolfram and Hart under an unregistered address and name. Maybe I had even donated some money to certain epsilons in the cause. But maybe he hadn’t found out about all that. Maybe I was worried for no good reason. Maybe I’d be fine.
Or maybe Warren was ruler of the free world with contacts in almost ever place imaginable.
Faith seemed pretty angry. If I found out what was going on, maybe I could pass that information on. It might be a hole in Warren’s defense if he’s pissed of his right hand woman. It might be the secret to his undoing.
“If you want to talk about it, you know, I promise not to tell Warren. I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him myself, but I might as well wait for the phone conference tomorrow. I’m betting he and Andrew are ‘busy discussing business’ in his bedroom right now.”
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"Sorry to burst your bubble, little man." I said, annoyed at how my words slightly slurred together with the alcohol. "But we weren't sayin' shit about you." He probably wouldn't believe me. On top of being a wicked bitch, Jonathan was one of the most paranoid people I'd ever met.
Had to wonder why he wasn't there though. I mean, he was still part of Warren's posse even if Warren did treat him like shit a whole lot of the time. Wondered if Jonathan was pissed cause Warren made Andrew his bitch instead of him. Personally, I thought Jonathan got the better deal. No offense to Warren, but coming from the chick that everyone in America assumes is his girlfriend? There's no way in hell I'd ever fuck him, even with a stolen dick. That's pretty sad considering I was mostly a slut. Remembered one day just chillin' with Andrew and he was showing me all this porn shit that people write on the internet about him and Warren. Then he stumbled upon a story featuring Andrew, Warren and myself in a threesome. Shit was whack. Whoever wrote that? Had way too much free time on their hands and a twisted imagination. Cause, there was no fucking way.
I instantly got defensive when he started to pry into why I was so pissed off. I wasn't the kinda girl who shared and hugged and cried. Was the little punk tryin' to get me to turn on Warren? Is that what this game was? Give out the info, stick the knife in the boss's back?
It repulsed me that the first thing I instantly thought of was my loyalty to Warren. I really was becoming his bitch. Or maybe this was Jonathan's way of trying to get me to slip up. Expose the traitorous bitch and worm his way back into Warren's good graces. Damn, I was gettin' paranoid too.
"Whatever they're doing up there? I'm bettin' it's not discussing shit." I practically spat. More like playing ass darts. Jon here was probably jealous. "Phone conferance? You're here and you're not even gonna just talk to him? You're gonna have a phone conferance? That's whack."
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"Whatever they're doing up there? I'm bettin' it's not discussing shit."
I shuddered a bit. Oh yeah. That. Sometimes I look back at that first year we were together, back when we were still in Warren's basement, and I tick off all the times those two went off on their own and left me in the base. I used to think they were just conspiring against me. Now that I know what it was they were doing, I almost wish they'd just been planning things about me. Don't get me wrong, I've got no problem with that... that kinda stuff, to each his own and all that, but this was Andrew and Warren here. I'd been friends with them forever. It's almost like finding out your Dad's been having hot gay sex with your teacher. It's just.... euuugh.
And, of course, I'd prefer not to come off as guilty by association. Just because I happened to spend a lot of time with those two in a basement doesn't mean that I'm like that. After all, I was there for the women. The kind with big, full hips and smooth, soft breasts and definitely no manparts. None. I'm really glad that Warren hasn't let the press catch wind of his and Andrew's relationship aside from those tabloid rumors, because then my dating possibilities would go from few to zilch. And I really liked that gold digging blond bimbo I had waiting for me back at home. I'd prefer she not think that I was gay and that she had no chance with me, because aside from girls that want my money...
"Phone conference? You're here and you're not even gonna just talk to him? You're gonna have a phone conference? That's whack."
I snapped back to myself after hearing Faith's voice.
"Well I'd hate to interrupt them, now wouldn't I? That would be a sight to send me home twitching, all right... No, I think I'll skip the man-love show and just talk to him tomorrow. He's already won here tonight, after all. He screwed me over just like he'd planned, the bastard."
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I'd done that once, so I sorta got it. Accidently walkin' in on Warren and Andrew, yeah that only happened once. Think they were more embarressed than I was. I mean, hey I was the chick that spent a few years kickin' back in cellblock 12. No stranger to gay lovin here, but it was wicked funny the way Andrew turned bright red.
"Screwed you over?" I couldn't help but laugh at that part. I really doubted that Jonathan was even a blip on Warren's radar. Yeah, the two of them used to be wicked tight but now Jonathan was just around because Warren felt bad for him, I think. Either that or because of their old friendship.
"Sorry. Think he's got bigger fish to fry." My eyes trailed over Jonathan's short frame for a second before I met his gaze again. "No offense."
Least my night wasn't totally wasted, Jonathan was distracting me from how Warren was tryin' to screw me over with this whole unfreezing Buffy thing he was so hell-bent on.
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I followed those fancy hallways and winding staircases through big carved doors and past all the prim an' proper servants 'till I found myself at the entrance. There were plenty a' guards there, but true to Warren's word none of 'em tried to stop me as I headed outside to the gardens. You know, I honestly think it'd made me feel better if they'd tried to rough me up, b'cause then I'd know for sure that Warren didn't keep to his word an' I could call the whole deal off then an' there. Bloody soddin' Warren...
Outside I only had t' walk a lil' ways 'fore I ran into two familiar faces. Well, one by reputation only (bloke like me's gotta keep up with what Slayers are where, right?) and the other was clearly the third wheel of the trio. The third, smaller wheel. The two seemed t' be talkin' rather bitterly, so I guessed that it'd have somethin' t' do with Warren. An right now, there wasn't anythin' I was more in the mood for than talkin' trash 'bout the dickhead of state.
"This a private party, or can any disgruntled minion join?"
I smiled at the both of 'em, eyein' the remainin' pieces of what was probably one of the benches that seemed t' be scattered all 'bout the place. Guess Faith was more pissed than I thought, in both meanings of th' word.
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The bench was slayed and I was drunk and all because the boss startin' blabbing the B word. Buffy. Nothin' like my sister slayer to get under my skin, creep her way right back in and stay there. Not like Warren cared. Sure I was supposed to be his friend, his right hand chick and what does he do? Goes and drags her into it.
Shaking my head I realized I'd totally lost myself in my thoughts and both Spike and Jonathan were staring at me.
Jonathan shot me a nervous look, before shooting another one at Spike. I raised an eyebrow as I watched the exchange before the midget started shuffling away. Barely a nod in our direction before he started high-tailing out of the enclosed garden we'd been standing in.
"Ri-ight." I said slowly, shaking my head and looking back up at Spike. Really looking at Spike. What the fuck was he doing here anyways?
"What the hell is William the Bloody doin' here anyway?" I asked suddenly. Nothing like Jack Daniels to make a girl a little less subtle than usual. "Tryin' to get in on some hot nerd action?" I asked with a smirk as I nodded up to the direction of the window. The window to Warren's room where he and Andrew were....yeah.
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