Summary: A new prophecy sends Willow and Faith to New York. Will they be able to prevent the ancient prediction from occurring?

Disclaimer: I don’t own them; I just wish I did.

Spoilers: For BtVS…nothing except some minor references. Set post-Chosen with no ties to the S8 comic. For L&O:SVU…Begins with S9’s “Alternate.” I’ve used the character Chester Lake, with a few not-so-minor changes. There may be some references to canon episodes later.

Rating: NC-17, eventually

Feedback: Please. This is a new fandom. The muse and I would like to know how we’re doing.

Archiving: By permission only

CHAPTER 1

Footsteps pounded on the concrete path.

“Police! Stop!” a female voice shouted out of the poorly lit gloom.

Grabbing Willow, Faith ducked behind a stand of bushes. “Fuck. I thought you said no one came to the Park after dark.”

The footsteps got louder, and a lone figure sprinted by.

“That’s him,” Willow hissed.

“I know that, Red. I’m a Slayer, remember?” Faith pulled a stake from her pocket and crept forward.

More footsteps sounded.

Freezing in place, Faith glanced up. Two more people ran down the path, slowing as they reached the area illuminated by the single light pole.

“Do you see him?” the shorter woman inquired. She breathed in ragged pants, right hand gripping the butt of her gun.

The second woman was less winded. “No. But there aren’t any branching paths. He has to be ahead of us.”

As they talked, Faith’s senses pinged. Their prey was doubling back and getting close. The wood dug into her hand as she clutched the stake.

“Damn it. I can’t believe he got away.” The shorter woman pulled a radio unit from her belt. “Dispatch, this is Benson. Be advised the suspect is on foot in Central Park between the 100^th and 97^th Street exits.” She jammed the bulky piece back into place. “Stay here, Lake. I’ll see if I can flush him out.”

Still hidden in the bushes, Faith wanted to growl. The cops were making this much harder than it needed to be. If they’d just been a few steps slower… She watched the cop jog down the path and scanned the darkened area on the other side of the path.

The vampire was close. Too close.

The remaining officer paced restlessly, hand going to her gun and then her side.

A branch snapped, the sound unbelievably loud.

“Police! Come out where I can see you; hands up.” The gun cleared the holster as the woman spun to face the noise.

Faith looked in that direction, too. The cop was about to get taken down. She tried to see or feel the approaching vampire. There had to be a way to dust him without alerting the woman to their presence in the park.

Before she could come up with a plan, though, Benson came back. “Nothing. Not a sign of him. It’s like he vanished.”

A grim smile twisted Faith’s lips. No, she thought. Not yet. Give me a minute and a clear shot.

Lake slowly relaxed and holstered her weapon. “You sure? I thought I heard something over here.”

“That why you were about to shoot a tree, rookie?” There was an edge of patronizing humor in Benson’s voice as she moved closer. “The Captain hates filing paperwork when we kill the flora.”

Watching the byplay, Faith almost missed the increased cramping in her senses.

She realized what was happening just as a dark shape stepped onto the path behind Benson.

Willow’s soft whisper sounded in her ear, and the light over the path exploded and went out.

“What the fuck?” Benson demanded.

Faith didn’t wait for her to grab a flashlight. Standing from her crouched position, she threw the stake at the vampire. Only her enhanced sight allowed her to see his yellow eyes widen in surprise when the wood embedded itself in his chest. He dropped to the ground in tiny particles of ash.

Ducking back into the bushes, Faith squirmed toward Willow and waited.

A click broke the silence, and a narrow beam of light cut the darkness. “Where did he go this time?” Benson demanded. She panned the path with her flashlight. “I saw him right there.” The illumination paused on the spot the vampire had been standing. “You saw him, too, didn’t you?”

“As much as I’d like to say you imagined it…” Lake turned on her own light and pinpointed the same area. “He was right there, and we were about to get our asses kicked.”

“We had guns. He didn’t.” Benson didn’t seem nearly as concerned about the near attack. “Fuck. Cragen’s going to kill us. We just let a murder suspect get away.”

Lake chuckled. “I’m gonna be glad you’re the ranking detective. You can explain how he was there one minute and gone the next. Poof.” She started back up the path, Benson at her shoulder.

When they were out of earshot, Faith and Willow climbed out of their hiding place.

“A little close, weren’t you?” Willow griped, brushing off her pants and shirt.

The question had Faith grinding her teeth. “You said we had to protect her. She’s still breathing, ain’t she?”

She watched Willow purse her lips. “Yes, but-“

“But nothing, Red. The cop’s alive; the vamp is dead. I say we did a good night’s work.” Faith spun and stalked up the path.

“What if they’d seen something, Faith? How were you going to explain being in the park with a nice pointy object?” Willow wasn’t giving up. She trotted alongside Faith and fired off more questions. “Did you think they wouldn’t check out the armed ex-con in the bushes? Better yet: what if they’d seen the vamp get dusted? Maybe I could have waved and said: ‘Don’t worry; he was already dead.’”

If Faith had had any other way back to their hotel, she would have taken off. “Stupid fucking prophecy,” she mumbled. Why couldn’t Giles’ book have mentioned Buffy? Why her? Head pounding in frustration, she marched to the rental car they’d left at a meter. “Get in,” she snapped, pressing the key remote.

Green eyes narrowed. “You aren’t driving.” Willow held out her hands for the keys.

“Red…” Faith drawled the word warningly. Push just a little more. Come on, she dared silently. The remote creaked in protest at her grip.

“Fine.” Willow stalked past her and yanked open the passenger door. “Just don’t get pulled over. I still haven’t gotten your records cleared. One traffic stop, and you’ll be back in a jumpsuit and handcuffs.”

Like she was likely to forget that. Faith fired the engine with a more enthusiasm than necessary, and the roar echoed the one deep inside. “You ever gonna get to that? I mean, Sunnydale’s been a hole for almost six months now.”

She saw Willow frown out of the corner of her eye. “I’m working on it.”

“You’re a fucking genius, Red.” Faith pulled the car onto Central Park West and headed toward their Midtown hotel. “How hard can it be? Hack the California Department of Corrections and delete my name.” She risked a quick glance across the interior of the car. “Or…are you trying to say you don’t want to?”

Willow didn’t say anything. She simply shifted in the seat and looked out the window.

***

Chelsea Lake shifted uncomfortably in her chair and listened to the intense conversation between her new partner and her new boss.

“Damn it, Olivia. You had him. What the hell happened?” Cragen slammed a hand onto his desk, and the pencil cup toppled. No one moved to pick up the rain of sharpened writing tools as they cascaded to the floor.

Glaring back, Olivia threw up her hands. “I don’t know.”

It was the wrong answer.

Trying to meld with the cheap faux-leather under her, Chelsea held her breath. The captain’s face was red, and he looked ready to explode.

“He was there. Lake and I saw him. Then the damned light went out, and when we got our flashlights out, he was gone. No trace.” Olivia seemed to dare Cragen to comment, hands dropping to her hips.

Afraid to blink, Chelsea waited.

“All right.” Cragen slumped back into his chair. “Where do we go from here?”

“We can try running down McLaren’s old contacts.” Shrugging, Olivia looked at Cragen. “I just don’t think they’re going to be much help. He was declared dead over thirty years ago. Nothing we found the first time indicated anyone in his circle of lowlife cronies even knew he was alive.”

Still not convinced it was a good idea to get involved in the conversation, Chelsea tentatively cleared her throat. Two pairs of eyes immediately looked her way.

“You have something to say, Detective Lake?” Cragen regarded her with raised eyebrows.

Praying her darker skin hid the blush she could feel burning her cheeks, Chelsea nodded. “You know, the perp we chased into the park…when he came out of the bushes, he didn’t look like a fifty-year old man.”

The eyebrows got closer to Cragen’s missing hairline. “What did he look like?”

Saying anything had definitely been a bad decision. “He looked like he did in the original crime scene photos,” Chelsea forced herself to say. She flashed back to the brief glimpse she’d gotten of McLaren’s face in the park. “Young. Healthy.” Flicking a look at Olivia, Chelsea added, “He sure as hell didn’t run like an old man, either.”

CHAPTER 2

“Huh. You know, Captain, she’s right.” Olivia moved wearily over and dropped into the chair next to Chelsea. “Whoever that was couldn’t have been McLaren.”

Chelsea rode the wave of confidence she got from Olivia’s response and asked, “His son?”

“He didn’t have any kids we could find.” Olivia’s eyes were half closed, dark circles marring the skin below. “I guess we could have missed something.”

No way was Chelsea commenting on that thought. “Want me to call the wife in for an interview?” she asked instead.

Olivia roused enough to shake her head. “Definitely not. She’s not real fond of us. When Elliot and Fin were there last week, she threatened a harassment lawsuit. Seems after thirty years of widowhood, Mrs. McLaren doesn’t want to be bothered with questions about the not-so-dearly departed.” She grinned mirthlessly. “You really want to tell her we think her dead husband might not be rotting in his casket?”

“Is Novak working on the exhumation request?” Cragen’s chair creaked as he swung around and stood up. Hands pressed to his lower back, he stretched. “I’m assuming the wife didn’t give us permission to dig McLaren up.”

“Good assumption.” Chelsea nearly chuckled at the wry sound to Olivia’s voice. “According to Fin, that’s when the good Mrs. McLaren started wildin.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Cragen asked, “Do I even want to know what that means?”

Olivia’s smile turned genuine. “Ah…I’d ask Fin. I’m sure the description would lose something in translation.”

“I’ll just read his report.” Cragen came around his desk and leaned against the section between Chelsea’s chair and Olivia’s. “Go home, detectives.” When they both sat up and started to protest, he held up a hand. “That’s an order. Come back tomorrow. We’ll look at this with fresh eyes. I’ll leave a message for Novak. She can update us on exhuming the body.”

Chelsea thought Olivia wasn’t going to cooperate. Jumping from her chair, she met the Captain’s eyes. “I’m out of here, then. Come on, Benson. I’m too tired to listen to your posturing.”

Not waiting for Olivia’s reply, she strode from the room and headed straight for her desk.

“Looks like it didn’t go too badly, Lake.” Sergeant Munch regarded her from over the top of his steepled hands. “You aren’t bleeding or vowing to quit.”

“Give me some credit, Sarg.” Chelsea winked at the older man. “I just sat back and let Benson handle it.”

He laughed. “You might make it yet.”

“Hate to break it to, gramps,” she teased. “I haven’t been a real rookie in years. You keep forgetting my stint in Brooklyn SVU.”

Munch’s grey eyes bore into her. “I didn’t forget. This isn’t Brooklyn, rookie. We’ll see if you can survive sex crimes in Manhattan. You make it to Christmas, and I’ll consider giving you a new nickname.”

The slam of Cragen’s door cut off any reply Chelsea might have made.

Olivia stormed through the maze of desks and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. Without a word, she stuffed her arms into the leather sleeves and stalked from the squad room.

“Ah…Liv’s in a good mood. Lucky you to be her new partner,” Munch commented sardonically.

Chelsea ignored him, watching the door’s into the squad swing back and forth. Why was Olivia so angry? It couldn’t just be the order to go home. “I’m heading out, Sarg. You want me to bring you a coffee from Starbuck’s before I go home?”

“Flattery and gifts will get you anything you want, Lake.” Munch went back to work on the pile of paperwork on his desk. “I’m good with the swill they call coffee here, though. Get some sleep. With Liv in a mood, you’ll need it.”

“See you tomorrow, then.” Wrapping up in her own coat, Chelsea followed Olivia out the doors.

***

Thirty minutes later, Chelsea hopped out of the cab and paid the driver. Keys jangling, she trotted up the stairs to the front door of her building. She’d just unlocked the heavy metal door when a voice called her name.

She spun, peering through the darkness, hand on the butt of her gun.

A man stepped out of the shadows near the stairs. “You are Chelsea Lake?”

“Who’s asking?” Chelsea unsnapped the holster guard and gripped the sculpted metal more tightly.

“Are you Chelsea Lake?” the man demanded again.

Examining the man closely, Chelsea recognized the high cheekbones and dark complexion she bore. That small bit of familiarity didn’t stop her from slowly shifting so that her back was to the brick façade of the building or scanning the sidewalk for more people.

The man’s eyes fell to the hand on her gun. His own hands rose in the universal symbol of surrender, palms out from his body. “Forgive me. I did not mean to scare you. My name is Anshu, and I have a message from your grandmother.”

Chelsea relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. You must be looking for another Chelsea Lake. I don’t have any family.” The string of foster families in her past was proof of that.

Grimacing, Anshu lowered his hands, stuffing them in the pockets of his coat. “I know about the homes, Chelsea. They were…a way for us to protect you. We did not mean to cause you pain, only to keep you safe.”

Back on full alert, Chelsea slid her right foot a few inches toward the door. If she could get inside…

Anshu didn’t give her a chance to open the door, though. “Wait! Please!” He must have seen her move. Lunging forward, he gripped her shoulder and pinned her to the building with his body. “Forgive me, but we don’t have any time to waste. Your grandmother and Takarihoken are gone. You must return home.”

***

Faith marched ahead of Willow into the hotel. Damn Giles and the New Council. The cheap bastards stuck her in this Ramada and wouldn’t spring for separate rooms. She needed a few minutes alone. Time to get her emotions back under control. “I’ll be in the bar if you need me,” she said tersely.

“No, you won’t.” Willow gripped her arm.

Freezing in place, Faith tried not to lash out at the touch. “Let go, Red.” She was proud of the fact her voice stayed quiet. “I need a drink after our night on the town.”

“Faith.” Voice equally soft, Willow maneuvered Faith out of the lobby traffic. “We have to call Giles and let him know what’s happening.”

“Nothing happened, Red. Nothing.” Wrenching her arm away, Faith leaned in close and glared at Willow. “We followed the cop. I killed a vamp. That’s it. No big bads, no magical firepower. Just one lousy vampire.”

The green eyes staring into hers didn’t give an inch. “That’s right. One vamp. Where are the rest of them? The prophecy mentioned a whole tribe of them. The Council has another dozen Slayers on the way here. Maybe we translated the text wrong. Maybe the vampires aren’t here in New York. We need to let Giles know.”

They were getting nowhere. Surrendering to Willow’s logic and tenacity, Faith nodded shortly. “Fine. Let’s go call the Head Tweed.”

Willow led the way to the elevator and then to their room.

Simply following along, Faith continued to brood over the conversation in the car. So Willow didn’t want to help with her record. That hurt. A lot. Faith scowled as she walked down the carpeted hallway. Hadn’t she shown that she’d changed? Surely not even Willow could still be holding a grudge over that knife to the throat thing.

“Can you grab my laptop?” Willow asked once they were inside their small room. “I’ll need it to set up the video conference.

The bag was under Willow’s side of the bed – in case the housekeeping crew had sticky fingers, she’d informed Faith that morning. Dropping to her knees, Faith dug out the backpack-shaped carrying case. “Here ya’ go, Red.” She didn’t quite toss the computer onto the bed.

“Thanks.” The reply was garbled by the cables dangling from Willow’s mouth as she peered at the back of the television.

Faith watched as Willow plugged in the multi-colored connectors and turned the TV around to its original position. She set a small webcam ‘eye’ on the flat top of the unit.

The laptop was next. The other ends of the wiring fitted into ports on the computer. “We’re ready,” Willow announced. The screen in front of her flickered and the familiar logo popped up. “You have to stay close to the bed or they won’t be able to see you.”

That was a bad thing? Rolling her eyes, Faith climbed onto the bed and shifted so she sat against the headboard. “Got it, Red. Will this do?”

The sound of Willow’s fingers on the keyboard was her only answer.

Minutes later, Giles’ office appeared first on the computer and then the TV.

“Ah, you arrived safely, I see.” Giles came into view, face huge and indistinct on the screen.

“Yeah, we’re here.” Faith waited to see if Giles would figure out he was too close to the camera. The fascinating view of his facial pores didn’t change. “Step away from the camera, Tweed. Me and Red don’t really need to see you that up close and personal.”

His head moved abruptly, and the view became a more normal one of his face and upper body. “Is this better? I thought the camera had only a limited range.”

Willow raised her head from the keyboard, and Faith sensed techno-babble on the way.

Rushing to cut off the explanation of the webcam, Faith interjected, “We saved the cop from a vamp tonight. Red thinks we have a problem, though.”

Just like that, the other two members of the videoconference forgot about the camera.

“What kind of problem?” Giles’s body shifted and a large book appeared in the foreground of the image on the screen. “Should I have more Slayers and Watchers en route?”

“No, Giles.” Willow shifted on the bed, drawing her legs up Indian style. “I…I think we made a mistake. Ms. Lake didn’t seem to know about vampires, and we only saw the one Faith killed. Are you sure the text refers to a tribe or an army?”

The sound of Giles turning the pages of his book was loud in the small hotel room. “Yes, Willow. I believe the translation is correct.” He read aloud from the text, “And when the last heir to the Takarihoken must choose a new Confederate Lord, beware the sister clan and their tribe of undead warriors.”

A/N: I’ve been doing a lot of research on the Mohawk people and their traditions. Most of the information mentioned here (and later) comes from a translation of the Constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy. Any mistakes are mine and are in no way meant to defame the Mohawk culture. I would welcome any suggestions regarding my use of the Constitution.

CHAPTER 3

“I got a question,” Faith interjected when Giles seemed intent on reading the entire prophecy again.

Giles’ startled eyes shot up from the pages of the book, and Willow’s head snapped around as she stared at Faith.

Faith smirked. “Yeah, I know. I usually just sit and let the two of you do all the work. That don’t mean I ain’t paying attention.” Pausing for a second, she let that sink in before going on. “Anyway, we all keep thinking ‘undead’ means vamps. Aren’t there other demons or whatever that qualify for that title?”

She thought for a second that Giles might topple out of his desk chair. His mouth worked soundlessly while his hands reached up to remove his glasses from their perch on his nose. Finally, a pained, “Good Lord,” emerged from the television speakers. “How did we miss that?”

A hand waved in the air. “I think I can answer that one,” Willow answered wryly. “We always think vampire first.” She shook her head. “If the passage does refer to something other than vamps, I’m drawing a big blank. The only undead without fangs I can think of is a zombie.” Willow looked at Faith. “We really, really want it to be vampires, if that’s the case.”

“There are various types of zombies, ghosts, and mummies,” Giles mumbled as he stared sightlessly at the camera and cleaned his glasses. “I’ll have the research corps begin looking for other examples, and I, myself, will attempt to find someone to assist me with the translation. If you are correct, Willow, and Ms. Lake is not familiar with vampires and other demons, perhaps I have missed something in the prophecy.”

“What does that mean for us, Tweed? You want us to…” Faith broke off when her cell phone rang. Pulling the unit from her pocket, she peered at the display. “Fuck. It’s Nicole. We may have a problem,” Faith announced before she answered the call.

***

Anshu’s move was a surprise, and Chelsea grunted when her back slammed against the brick façade of the building. He was big and muscled. Chelsea squirmed against him.

Her training finally kicked in. Planting one foot against the wall, she shoved forward. Chelsea didn’t have enough leverage to topple Anshu backward; however, the move did force him to change his stance and resettle the hands gripping her arms. It was the opportunity Chelsea needed.

As his hands loosened, she jerked away and bent at the waist. Driving her shoulder into his stomach, Chelsea forced him back. Anshu’s feet slid in the slushy snow on the landing, and he toppled down the stairs to the sidewalk.

Not bothering to reach for the gun holstered beneath her coat, Chelsea fitted her key into the door lock and hurried inside. She stayed there, resting against the heavy metal door, for a long minute. “What the hell was that all about?” she mumbled to herself.

The door rattled then banged into her back.

Chelsea pushed away and drew her weapon. Finger resting along the trigger guard, she waited tensely for Anshu to enter.

A coated figure staggered through the door.

Her finger dropped inside the guard, touching the cool metal of the trigger.

“It’s too fucking cold.” The figure rubbed red, chapped hands over leather-encased arms, and Chelsea’s gun slowly lowered. She hadn’t had time to re-holster her weapon when Mr. Romero, her next door neighbor, looked up. His eyes widened and his hands shot up over his head. “Don’t shoot!”

With exaggerated motions, Chelsea returned the gun to her holster and snapped the guard closed. “Sorry, Mr. Romero. I had some trouble on the way in. I thought you were the guy trying to get inside.”

Her comment drew a disbelieving sniff from the elderly man as he walked by, cane tapping on the cracked tile entryway.

Chelsea waited until he had disappeared into the elevator before reaching for her cell phone.

“Special Victims, Sergeant Munch speaking,” Munch answered brusquely.

Gripping the phone tightly, Chelsea said, “Hey, Sarge. Is the Captain still around?” She hoped not. Otherwise, she’d have to wait until tomorrow to do her research.

“No. He left right after you and Liv.” Chelsea could hear amusement in his voice. “You think Liv is going to sneak back in after Dad sent her to her room?”

Debating how to answer, Chelsea absently walked across the lobby and opened her mailbox. “Not Benson.” If she went back to station Munch was sure to see her and ask questions. She’d just have to trust the older man. “Me.”

A whistle blared in her ear. “Not smart, rookie. The Captain can get awfully touchy if he thinks you don’t like to follow orders.”

It was a risk Chelsea had to take. She needed to know who Anshu was. Her hand tightened around the bundle of mail, crumpling the flimsy sheaf of ads and envelope. Most importantly, Chelsea had to know if her time in foster care had been arranged, and if there was a grandmother or other family out there waiting for her.

Chelsea tossed the junk mail into the trash can in the lobby and tucked the bills into her inside jacket pocket. She kept her gun hand poised near her holster as she stepped back into the cold night.

Anshu was either gone, or he was very good at hiding. There were only a few people out in the lousy weather. Chelsea eyed each one as she scanned the street for a cab. No one looked suspicious or out of place. Her hand shot out suddenly when a cab careened around the corner. The car nosed up to the curb, and she hopped into the back seat.

***

“Lake’s on the move,” Faith announced as she closed the phone. “Some guy showed up at her apartment building and tried to grab her.”

Giles’ book thudded closed, the sound booming from the speakers. “Good Lord, was Nicole able to assist Ms. Lake? I did not expect an attack in so public a setting.”

Hopping from the bed, Faith made sure her pockets were stuffed with stakes and the car keys. “Wasn’t a vamp, Tweed. He was human. She said she couldn’t hear the whole conversation. The guy’s name was Anshu, and Nicole thought he said something about Lake’s grandmother and danger. Then he tried to grab Lake, and Nicole called for backup.”

“Great,” Willow got up, too. “Just what we need. A group of over-eager newbie Slayers running to the rescue. I don’t think the Council will authorize bail for that many people. Maybe we should make a list of which ones we think are worth the money.” Shaking her head, Willow directed her next comments to Giles. “Can you get a start on the research while Faith and I check in with Nicole?”

Faith’s cell rang again. “Fuck.” She pulled it off her belt. “What?”

Nicole’s excited voice exploded out of the phone. “She’s leaving!”

“Who’s leaving, Nicole? The cop?” Faith tried to get information, but it was like listening to Willow on caffeine. Words poured from the younger Slayer in a wave of unintelligible babble. “Nicole!” Faith finally snapped. “Breathe! And then tell me who the fuck is leaving and if Lake is all right.”

She started pacing when Nicole didn’t respond. In the background, Faith saw Willow disconnecting the cables from the television and her computer.

“Lake is leaving. I’m in a cab behind her trying to follow.” Nicole’s babble slowed. Now Faith heard more than a hint bruised ego in the stiff tone. “I think she’s going back to work.”

“Sorry, Nic. My bad.” Faith put a hand over the bottom of the phone and whispered to Willow, “We need to hit the road, Red.” Then she went back to Nicole. “Any more from that guy? Or is the cop on her own?”

Shouting in a foreign language and the screech of tired answered her.

After a minute, Nicole came back on. “Alone, and definitely going back to work. We just pulled up outside the precinct.”

There was a pause, and Faith waited. From Nicole’s rapid breathing, the kid was nervous about something.

“I told Chan to keep an eye on Lake’s apartment, and I’ve got a couple more girls doing patrols in the area all night.” Nicole cleared her throat. “Just in case…you know…just in case the vamps are in the area.”

Faith jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. Willow grinned faintly at her reaction. “I’m ready.” She held up her laptop bag and her emergency vamp kit.

“Hey, Nic. We’re on our way. Stay where you are and we’ll be there in a few.” Faith started to hang up then paused. “Good work, kid.” Flipping the phone closed again, Faith headed for the door.

***

She explained the situation to Willow on the drive to the precinct. “Nicole’s gonna wait for us to show up.”

“I hate this,” Willow griped. “We never have much information. That’s normal. But this isn’t Sunnydale! We don’t know anything about New York and the demon hierarchy here.” She slumped back in the seat. “And, damn it, I’m pretty sure we’re missing something.”

Faith pulled the car up to the curb about a block from the well lit entrance to the police department. A shadowy figure detached from the side of a nearby building and hurried up to them.

The back passenger-side door opened, and Nicole slid onto the back seat. “Fuck, it’s cold out there.”

As always, Faith had to fight back a chuckle as she cranked the heat up higher. Cursing didn’t sound very effective in the other Slayer’s slow, honeyed drawl.

“I tried to remember anything else about that conversation Lake had with the Anshu guy,” Nicole continued. She leaned across the front seat and held her hands in front of the blower. “There wasn’t much to it. I got something about Lake’s grandmother, and then…I thought she said something about not having a family.”

Willow’s squeal filled the car.

“Fuck, Red. Give me some warning next time.” Faith rubbed at her ears. “I think you blew out my eardrums with that.”

As usual, Willow ignored the comment. She dug into her laptop bag and pulled out the computer. After shoving a card into the side of the laptop and opening the lid, she said, “I think that’s what we were missing, Faith.”

“My aching ears?” It didn’t make any sense to Faith. “I need more than that, Red. Go slow and use really small words.”

Fingers flying over the keyboard, Willow mumbled, “Family, Faith. It’s about family and why Lake doesn’t know about the vampires and the prophecy.”

CHAPTER 4

Faith met Nicole’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The younger Slayer looked as confused as she was. “I’m still not getting it, Red. So Lake’s family is dead. How does that mean she’s clueless?”

“Not dead, Faith.” Willow’s fingers paused for a second over the keyboard. “Well, maybe they are. That might explain why the vamps or whatever are attacking now…” She lapsed into silence, staring at the computer screen.

Not wanting to interrupt the serious thinking going on, Faith wiggled her legs and tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Finally, when Willow hadn’t woken from her trance-like state, Faith offered a soft, “Earth to Red. You still with us?”

Willow twitched in response, and her fingers resumed typing. “Still here. Just thinking.”

Another meeting of gazes, and two pairs of eyes rolled.

“I should probably be going,” Nicole said. The rear door cracked open, and a gust of cold air filled the car.

“Close the fucking door, Nic!” Faith reached over and cranked the heater higher. “If Red can ever get her head out of her ass and fill us in, you’ll need to know what we found. And I ain’t listening to another Tweed lecture on the cost of the cell phone bill.”

The slamming door coincided with a pained sigh. “Right. I stay.” Nicole didn’t sound happy with that.

Since Willow was back at work and not paying attention, Faith wiled away the time with a little playing. “Come on, Nic. Just let Red get done with the research, and I’m sure she’ll be all smiles and friendly again. She can’t help the bitch routine when she’s on the hunt. Slayers just ain’t made to keep up.”

Nicole didn’t respond, and Faith pouted for a second. All the juniors were fucking scared of Willow. Not her. Not Faith the Dark Slayer. There was just something wrong with that.

“Put the lower lip away, Faith. After seven years of Summers’ pouts, I’m immune.” Willow flicked a glance her way, a smile lighting her features. “Besides, I think I have the information you need. I’ll even go slow and use teensy, weensy words so your poor Slayer brain can understand.”

When Nicole burst into giggles, Faith dropped her head into her hands and moaned. “Fuck. I’m gonna hop out and walk back. Ain’t right, the two of you making fun of me like this.”

There was a second of silence in the car. Then Nicole’s new spate of giggles merged with Willow’s.

“Poor, Faith. You aren’t having a good day, are you?” Willow asked with mock sympathy when the laughter faded again. “First I make you sit through a teleconference with Giles and now you’re stuck with me and my computer in the car.”

Allowing a hesitant smile to creep out, Faith said, “Yeah, poor me.” For once, Willow didn’t seem to be judging, and the teasing was fun. “Fang did say redemption would suck.”

A beep from the laptop shattered the relaxed scene.

Willow’s head snapped back to the screen. “We’re on the right track, guys,” she announced. “I hacked into the NYPD network to see what Lake was working on.”

Faith cleared her throat. “You get caught, you and me can share a cell in the big house, Red. I don’t know much about computers, but I’m betting that’s a felony.”

“Class E. It carries a maximum one year sentence and can include some pretty hefty fines if they tack on other charges.” Willow wasn’t fazed by that as she got back to the original subject. “I’m piggybacking Lake’s search. She’s looking at birth records and DSS files.”

Although she wasn’t following everything, Faith thought she might finally be on the right track. “You’re saying Lake spent time in the system as a kid.”

Willow nodded. “Yeah. It looks like it. She’s looking at a file from the early seventies. Give me a second.” A thunder of keystrokes sounded, and then Willow sat back against the seat. “Bingo. Lake became a ward of the state at birth, according to this.”

“And we were expecting something else?” Nicole hung over the seat back.

“A lot different, kid. We thought Lake had a clue about vampires and magic ‘cause of her Mohawk connection. She don’t even know about that, so it’s a good bet she don’t know about things that get fang-y at night.” Faith stretched her neck to the right, a series of pops sounding. “Question is: how are we gonna keep her safe if Lake can’t help us out?”

“I have a better question.” Willow ran a hand through her hair. “Why all the secrecy? If Anshu is somehow connected to Lake’s real family, why foster care? Why not a family member?”

That didn’t seem so hard. “They wanted to keep her safe.” Turning in the seat so she faced Willow, Faith continued, “Think about it, Red. You have a kid that you know…somehow is in danger. What do you do?”

Willow stared back at her, brows knitted in confusion.

“You hide the baby. Pretend it’s dead, and put it into the system.” Faith saw Willow’s eyes widen. “While the kid’s growing up, you try to find the problem and take it out.”

***

Chelsea felt Munch’s eyes on her back as she worked. The normally cool grey eyes bore into her, and Chelsea tightened her muscles against a nervous twitch.

“If you tell me what you’re working on, maybe I can help,” he offered quietly. His shoes made soft thumps as he walked across the deserted squad room and hovered next to her left elbow.

Minimizing the window on the screen, Chelsea hunched protectively over the keyboard. “Nothing, Sarge. Just…something I thought of when I got home.” She didn’t mention – hadn’t mentioned since the interrogation had started an hour ago – why she’d decided to return to work against orders.

Munch didn’t move. If anything, he seemed to get closer. “Now, I know you think I’m old, Rookie. And you may be right. However, when a transplant to our lovely unit comes in, huddles over her computer, and refuses to talk, that can only mean one thing.”

Eyes sliding closed, Chelsea sighed. And waited…and waited…and waited.

Finally, the hum of the overhead lights and the puff of their quiet breathing were too much. “What’s that, Sarge?” Chelsea inquired reluctantly.

“Trouble,” Munch answered, seeming almost pleased. “It can’t be about the case. You aren’t so wet behind the ears you’d work on that without calling your partner. And, if you’d called Liv, she’d have beaten you in. It’s personal.”

Sometimes, Chelsea thought, working with other cops was a pain. They knew everything, and what they didn’t know, they found out. “If it is?” She needed Munch’s reassurance that he would keep her secret.

“Then talk to me, Chelsea.” The sound of her first name (not her last or her nickname) shocked Chelsea. “We may argue and get testy from time to time, but we’re a very happily dysfunctional family. If you’ve got trouble, we’ve got your back.”

Her eyes opened, and her view of the computer blurred through the tears. “I don’t…I don’t even really know if it’s trouble.” Holding very still, Chelsea willed the tears not to fall. Telling Munch about tonight was one thing. Letting him see her cry was another matter entirely.

“You still need to tell me, Rookie.” Munch tapped her shoulder. “Either I get to play hero, or I can chuckle while I file your write-up for disobeying a direct order from the Captain.”

A snort escaped as Chelsea gave in. “I never knew my parents.” It was an oblique entry to the topic, but she wanted to try to tell the story in some kind of order. “I grew up in a series of foster homes. A lot of them,” she confessed. “The older I got, the less I cared about finding my family – if I had any left.”

“DSS didn’t give you any information over the years?” Munch moved away long enough to wheel his desk chair over to her. “They usually try to get the lifers reconnected to whatever relatives they do have.”

“Nothing.” With a loud scraping sound, Chelsea scooted her chair to the right so she could watch Munch for a reaction. “Looking in the mirror every day, it didn’t take me long to figure I was Native American of some kind. I looked into that once, when I went to college. Even though I could register in their database, there isn’t any way to pinpoint which nation or tribe.” Not unless she wanted to spend a lot of money.

Munch regarded her thoughtfully, left hand tucked under his right elbow and the fingers of his right hand caressing the side of his face. “You said you didn’t want to know about your family. Something changed that. Tonight.”

“Someone was waiting for me at my apartment.” Staring intently at the scarred wooden desktop, Chelsea hunted for a way to describe the meeting. “He gave me his name and told me he had a message from my grandmother.” She replayed the scene in her mind. “He didn’t react well when I tried to explain about the lack of a family.”

“What did he do, Chelsea?” Munch leaned forward and gripped her hand. “Do we need…”

Chelsea waved a hand in dismissal. “He got in my face, grabbed me.” She looked up so Munch could see she was telling the truth. “It didn’t take much of my training to get him off.” The older man relaxed and sat back in his chair. “It was something he said. He claimed ‘they’ were sorry for abandoning me and that I was in danger.”

To be continued…

Return to SVU Page