Baby Loves to Dance, Dance in the Dark (Open)

[Faith Lehane]

The yellow cab darted through the Cleveland streets in the dark, cutting through the light drizzle of rain. A passenger sat in the backseat, shrouded in darkness. A random pop song lightly played over the cab’s speakers. The passenger yawned as the cab pulled up to a stop in an alleyway in the downtown area. The cab driver switched on the car’s inside light and quickly pushed a few buttons on his cab’s meter.

“That’ll be $15.50, babe,” he said a smile spreading across his mouth as he looked back at his passenger and placed a hand on her knee.

In a swift motion, Faith ripped the cabbie’s hand off her leg and applied a little pressure to it. The guy let out an “arghhh” noise, and Faith leaned up closer to him. “Listen, big guy. I ain’t your babe,” she began as casual as ever, despite the circumstances. “Don’t ever touch a girl like the way you just touched me, unless they ask you to,” she paused for effect, “which, judging from your face, probably doesn’t happen all that much.” She released his hand, and he jerked it back, clutching it to his chest.

Faith reached into the right pocket of her black skinny jeans and pulled out a crumpled up $20.00 dollar bill. She threw the bill at him, and it bounced around the front before disappearing under the seat. “Keep the change,” she said with a snarl before pulling the door’s handle, stepping out of the cab onto the street, and slamming the door so hard the car shook for a moment. The cab driver immediately drove off causing the tires to squeal and leaving Faith to herself in the night.

Her brown hair cascaded down in loose curls and stopped mid-ways down her back, resting on a plain, black leather jacket. She reached into one of the inside pockets of the jacket, revealing a white t-shirt under the jacket in the process. She pulled out a warm, deep rose-colored lipstick called Courtesan, and applied it to her lips with a slight “smack.” When she was done, she tucked it back in the jacket.

The rain had stopped, and Faith decided to get a move on, her black boots making a “tapping” noise on the asphalt as she went. It wasn’t hard to find her destination, being that she could practically feel the pulse of the music through the street. A shortcut through an alleyway later, and Faith was staring at the doors of Anatomy Nightclub & Ultralounge. She pulled the door open and strutted inside.

The atmosphere of the place was the same as most dance clubs, but she didn’t really mind what the place looked like. Fact was she’d let loose in much worse. Since she moved to Cleveland, there was little she’d done aside from patrolling. Her little chat with Buffy a while back had really opened her eyes. If all slayers have a death wish like Buffy told her Spike had once said, then she was going to break this somewhat destructive cycle of patrolling, slaying, getting some grub, sleeping, and repeating. She had to, especially if she was getting her own team soon. What better way to feel alive than a night on the town with the first beefstick she sees?

She made a beeline for the closest bar, and quickly caught the attention of the bartender. She ordered a Jack & Coke, payed for it with more money from her back pocket, downed the drink, threw her jacket at the bartender, and headed for the blue and purple-lit dance floor. A rush of exhilaration encompassed her starting in her chest and radiating throughout her extremities as she began dancing to the electronic music. Within minutes, she had two guys she was dancing between.

"Like visiting an old friend," she thought to herself with a smile.

[Wesley Wyndam-Pryce]

The music throbbed against his temples making his eyebrows twitch in the slightest to each down beat; and for some reason it all seemed to be just down beats. He attempted to nod his head now and then to the incessant rhythm, trying to feel the mood of the place, but apparently his own mood just wasn’t ready to adapt, let alone embrace this yet. Still, this felt as close to the middle of nowhere as anywhere had in his entire life. It felt more like nowhere than even some giant cornfield in Indiana. Everyone knew cornfields held demons and attracted all sorts of malevolent weirdness for people like him. As colorful, lively, and loud as this place was, filled with its perspiring bodies gyrating with one another to splendid abandon, it was still no where. It was Cleveland. Home of a brilliant Hellmouth, yes indeed, but far off the radar of Wolfram & Hart. This was no man’s land and the perfect place for a former Watcher, former Rogue Demon Hunter, former Wolfram & Hart executive, etc, etc.

Wesley was nursing his second drink and currently occupying one of the cushioned seats that lined the back wall of this place. It was a perfect spot to people watch both the bar and dance floor without looking like a creeper. He’d chosen a dark blue suit for the evening, minus the tie, and paired with an open collar white shirt..and as much as they irritated him, the contact lenses had made a return. With money tight, there was no room in the budget for breaking another pair of glasses. Two hours into this mindless waist of time, he was considering a third drink when someone else took his attention away.

He tilted his head and watched her from the entrance, to the ordering of her drink, to the dancing with her admirers. It was like time traveling for a moment. It could have been five years ago, for the first urge he felt upon seeing such behavior was to charge up to her and demand she get back home and continue her studies. Yet a smile found its way onto his face for the first time in…well…a while. Years did not feel like the appropriate way to account for the time that had passed since they had been Watcher and Slayer. Years could not begin to explain the valley of time he felt between them.

Soon, the need for nostalgia turned into a deep urgency to get out of here. Wesley would never admit to being paranoid, but he was certain that at least 30% of his body was made of paranoia. Of all the places in the world for her to turn up, being here was too much of a coincidence. Or was it a sign?

He downed the last sip of his drink as an excuse to get up and walk back over to the bar. Turning his head toward her general direction he offered a cheerful, familiar smile and a wave. If she saw him, fantasic. If she missed it, well at least he tried.

“Another scotch and water, please bartender.” He cut his eyes back to the dance floor to see if she had yet noticed.

[Faith Lehane]

Faith had twisted her hands up in her hair, bouncing her body to the rhythm. Arms met her sides and wrapped themselves around her waist as she felt Boy Toy #1 grind into her from behind. In one quick motion she pushed him backwards with her body, spun around to him, and shook her head at him, flashing a sly smile. She knew the game too well, and she was not about to let a dude get all hands-y with her without making him work for it. She brought her mouth to his ear, whispered something to him, and he was off trotting to the bar for refresher drinks. Faith smiled, and spun back around, her loose curls bouncing around her. "Candy from a baby," she murmured to herself.

"What was that?" Boy Toy #2 interrupted. She wasn't sure if he'd heard her, or if he was attempting to vie for her attention in the absence of the other guy. Didn't matter to her either way. She smiled and shrugged at him playfully while going back into dance mode.

While she was enjoying getting her dance on and doing something other than slaying, Faith couldn't help but feel like this didn't feel anywhere near as good as it used to. So she continued to dance through that notion, playfully flirting with Boy Toy #2. Shortly thereafter, the first guy returned with their drinks.

"Two Jack and Cokes," he said, cautiously giving the side-eye to the second guy. Then, turning his attention back to the brunette slayer, he extended one of the drinks to her.

She smiled at him. "Nice try, Romeo," she said before snatching his drink from him and replacing it with the one he'd attempted to hand her. This was a trick she'd picked up a while ago to avoid being drugged. If he'd spiked her drink, he now was left with said spiked drink. She didn't pause to see how that went over, and instead excused herself from the dance floor, jokingly telling the guys behind her that they should have a dance off for her attention. Again, she didn't wait for a response. Tonight wasn't about them, and what they wanted. It was about her.

She took a long sip of her drink through the straw casually turning her attention back to the dance floor and then around at the bar patrons. She concentrated, attempting to push her "slayer sense" to pick up on some baddies, but nothing was registering. No worries though. The night was still young.

Faith sipped the last of the drink, placed it on an empty table, and made her way back to the glowing dance floor when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blur of someone from her past heading towards the bar. She immediately left the dance floor, causing one (or both?) of the Boy Toys to emit a groan. She returned to the table, and squinted through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the blast from the past. Suddenly she spotted him. Wesley. He smiled and waved at her, and a smile escaped her lips as she immediately pushed haphazardly through the sea of people towards her old watcher.

"Wes!" she called out when she was close to him. Her and Wesley didn't typically do the whole "hugging" thing, but she felt the urge to. She ignored it and opted for a pat on the back instead. "What are you doing in the big C-Town?"

God. She needed a better nickname for this city.

[Wesley Wyndam-Pryce]

She walked over. That was step one.

He was unable to resist the smile that set itself upon his face as she said his name and gave him a pat on the back. Wes was quick to extend an open hand to her in a formal but enthusiastic fashion, clapping his free hand against her shoulder. He looked upon her with some type of satisfied pride, completely different from the original emotion he felt after seeing her on the dancefloor. The initial feeling of disapproval had quickly washed away into something similar to satisfaction in a job well done. But had he done a good job with her? No, the Council certainly didn’t seem to think so. And based on the grade A torture job she’d pulled on him some years back, she probably disagreed with that feeling as well. Still, had she not proven herself a valiant Slayer in the last great battle? Was she not still alive and fighting the good fight? Had she not been clever enough to avoid the pitfalls of falling in love with ensouled vampires? Of course she had! And that had to be in part due to his training.

“Faith, as I live and breathe! I'm just...on vacation, as it were. I would ask why on Earth you would be in such a place…but…Hellmouth, after all..and you being a Slayer. It makes sense on paper, but…I am gobsmacked. Cleveland.” Wesley shook his head slightly and folded his arms across his check, a look of concern crossing his features. “Buffy put you on the B team, eh?”

That might not have been the most fair term for Cleveland and its awesome Hellmouth, but compared to Sunnydale’s and its legacy, everything else would rightly pale in comparison. Obviously, Buffy and the core Potentials must have maintained a base there…Giles too, most likely. He couldn’t completely remember why he’d run away from that particular part of California or why he’d washed so much of Sunnydale’s recent history from his memory; but it was damned good to see a Slayer…once his Slayer…here in the next best Hellmouth the USA had to offer.

Suddenly, he realized he needed a hobby…or another thousand miles between himself and all of this.
“Sorry, you must be here to enjoy yourself, not talk about work. Allow me to get you a beverage..” He turned his eyes back to the dancefloor with an amused lift of an eyebrow. “Your friends seem to be occupied for the moment.”

[Faith Lehane]

“Faith, as I live and breathe! I'm just...on vacation, as it were. I would ask why on Earth you would be in such a place… but… Hellmouth, after all... and you being a Slayer. It makes sense on paper, but… I am gobsmacked. Cleveland.”

Noticing his hesitation, Faith's eyes narrowed as she opted to joke with him. "Well, you know, Cleveland is such an 'awesome' city with 'lots' to do," she answered, her words thick with sarcasm. "Heck, you know," she paused, "you're the one vacationing here. People just can't get enough of the bustling metropolis that is Cleveland, Ohio!" She let out a slight snicker.

“Buffy put you on the B team, eh?”

With the mention of "B team," Faith produced an annoyed look. A seat opened up at the bar, and she slid into it before replying to him.

"Yeah," she answered, the hostility present in her voice, "sent here to protect the innocent and all that. They're supposedly sending a team for me to lead." She said the last bit with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She took a deep breath in, and attempted to let it go, but the "B team" comment bubbled back to the surface.

"I don't know why they insist on always pointing out that I am always second in line," she began, more to herself before realizing who she was with and adjusting, "...but I'm sure you know what I mean." She was, of course, referring to Buffy and Giles being Slayer #1 and Watcher #1 while she and Wes were Slayer #2 and Watcher #2, destined to be backups and waiting for tragedy to strike to be able to get their turn in the spotlight. Of course, deep down she knew the moniker of "B team" wasn't really meant to remind her of all that. Hell, Buffy had said exactly that to Faith, but still. The phrase "B team" always drove a figurative knife through her gut every time she heard it.

“Sorry, you must be here to enjoy yourself, not talk about work. Allow me to get you a beverage. Your friends seem to be occupied for the moment.”

"No worries," Faith answered, "it's actually nice to talk 'work' with someone. Quite difficult when you work alone."

On the drink front, she'd already beaten her ex-watcher to the punch. She'd been giving the guy bartender the eye in hopes he'd tend to her next. It worked, and Faith quickly ordered. "A Jack and coke for me," she began, and pointing a thumb back at Wes she added, "and whatever Mr. Uptight here wants." She flashed the bartender a smile, and turned to face Wesley with the same expression, only a more genuine version.

At the mention of the "friends" comment, Faith jokingly rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the dance floor. "Oh, those two?" she answered, noticing that the guys she'd previously been dancing with were now awkwardly dancing half with each other and half with other random girls on the dance floor that wanted little to do with them, all while they both stole glances towards their direction. "Ain't no friends of mine," she said, turning her attention away from them and almost forgetting them completely in the process.

She paused, her features sobering and added, "Just felt like getting a little time for me in. Been feelin' a little like the whole 'patrol-slay-eat-sleep-repeat' scene has gotten a bit old, which is sorta rare for me being that I kinda 'live' off it." The glanced down at the floor, momentarily lost in a rare moment of vulnerability before catching herself and quickly snapping out of it.

"So, how long you in Cleveland for," she asked, before continuing without giving him a chance to answer, "because the 'A team' has gifted me a sweet new pad. Maybe we could throw a rager of a party with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there? You interested?"

She was clearly joking, which was her normal fallback when venturing too far into "real" territory.

[Wesley Wyndam-Pryce]

That was quite a lot to think about. What was he doing here anyway? The club part he understood, but the city itself, that was a still a bit of a mystery. When it came to convenient brain fogs, Wes was becoming quite the expert at conjuring them up at the worst possible times. He drummed his finger tips on the bar top considering the options on the other side of the counter and let his eyes roam across the various labels on the bottles. The lights and mirrored surfaces made the selection a bit more difficult, so he shrugged and went with the old standard, passing his empty glass back across the bar. "Scotch and soda, if you please. Two limes this time. Save me the return visit." He tried to sound jovial, but he hoped the barb stuck in just the right place. He'd asked for two of them the first time and had to come back across the busy dance floor, look like a fool, and ask for another just an hour or so earlier. With the brunette slayer exuding confidence now in his company, he doubted the bar tender would forget again.

When Faith lost herself in that momentary world of vulnerability, immediate guilt pressed its way into his chest. How much he had failed her in the past...and was he not still failing her by not doing something to help her pain? As he was trying to work up the right response, some way to shadow out of the conversation completely and get back on the road, he caught that smile. Something in the genuine nature of it held him in place and what came out of his mouth next was the biggest lie he would tell today, but somehow didn't seem at all strange as he said it. "Actually, I believe I shall be staying here for quite some time." He adjusted the lapels on his jacket and straightened his back. "You're looking at the Cleveland Chapter's newest resident Watcher. With our powers combined, we'll see if we can get rid of that B-team epithet. Up for the challenge?" He gave her a wry lift of the eyebrow and a little curl of his lips into a confident smile. "Patrol-slay-eat-sleep...and training? As best I recall I still had a few lessons to pass down."

He picked up the fresh drink and brought it to his lips as smoothly as possible, but whacked the rim of the glass against his front teeth causing a painfully awkward sound only minimally masked by putting the back of his hand to his mouth. "Sorry.."

[Faith Lehane]

Faith took sipped some more of her drink as she listened to him.

"Actually, I believe I shall be staying here for quite some time. You're looking at the Cleveland Chapter's newest resident Watcher. With our powers combined, we'll see if we can get rid of that B-team epithet. Up for the challenge? Patrol-slay-eat-sleep...and training? As best I recall I still had a few lessons to pass down," Wesley said.

His offer to help out caused a wave of releif to wash over her.

"That is so great, actually!" she said to him energetically, the alcohol causing her normally high walls to lower enough to show that she really was happy he'd offered his help. Heck, she almost teared up. Almost.

She raised a hand and placed it on his upper arm. "Seriously, Wes. Thank you. It means a lot."

As his words sunk in her mind began reeling. "Have you gotten a place here yet? You'll HAVE to stay at the Beta Team house. You're the first to arrive and join the team, so you'll have your pick of the 259 rooms," she said, making a joke about how big the place is.

She paused for a second, but couldn't contain her questions so she continued, "so did B send ya? Giles? Is that really why you're here?"

He clinked his teeth accidentally with his glass, causing her excitement to break, and she let out a trademark laugh.

[Wesley Wyndam-Pryce]

He patted the back of her hand and offered his own smile then gave a check for a chipped tooth before sitting the glass down again. It was good to see her so excited. Sure, probably the alcohol had something to do with the amount of enthusiasm she was offering at the possibility of his residing in Cleveland, but it was the most enthusiasm he had seen from her in ages. There was something nostalgic in it...nostalgia for a time that never actually existed between them. The memories of training, learning, growing, and bonding that he'd imagined they would share together so many years ago never actually happened; but now it seemed like perhaps it was not too late. Where to begin in answering her questions? Best to start with the simplest.

"Um. No, not exactly. I was hoping there would be an available room at the Slayer HQ...seems like I'm in luck there, so thank you for that." He lifted his glass to her in a silent salute and had a quick sip. That other question still lingering on the air as if she were still speaking it. Lies always had a way of growing as soon as they were told and while it would have been super easy to keep this one going, he opted for the awkward truth of the matter.

"Faith, to be completely honest, no one sent me. My contact with Team Sunnydale has been negligible at best. Since L.A. I've just been sort of...well...wandering might be the best word. I spoke with Angel and learned of the operation happening here and just took it upon myself to come out here and see what would happen." He took another sip of the drink and jabbed at the lime with the little red straw. "And this chance meeting seems a very good sign."

He looked past her back to the bodies on the dancefloor and it seemed to dawn on him all at once that this city was indeed on top of another hellmouth. Wesley narrowed his eyes slightly and began to pick out a few curious looking dancefloor occupants...a few dress styles that were a few decades dated. Vampires? Worse? Was he just imagining it? Not likely. He looked between here and the dancers again a few times and let his jaw drop in what might have been genuine shock. "Dear Lord, you're here on patrol aren't you?"

[Faith Lehane]

Wesley was going to be staying at the Beta Team house, and Faith was definitely down for it... although she was less sure if it meant she was happy to not be alone in that house anymore, or that an older, more "fatherly" figure would be responsible for the baby slayers that were set to arrive sometime in the future. Probably a mixture of both. Regardless, she was for sure down.

She noticed his glass tip to the air, and she quickly shook her head. "Hell with that, pal. We're gonna have to do that again," she said, motioning towards his glass and lifting hers. "To new roommates!"

She listened to his words on Sunnydale and wondered if perhaps he could be put on good guy payroll, if he was going to be working with her. Faith personally didn't see the harm in it, but she figured that if Buffy and Giles had a say, that whole "working for Wolfram & Hart" stuff would definitely play a role. Last she heard, Buffy and company lost touch with those guys for a while after they began working for what they thought were the bad guys.

Guess time will tell. Maybe she'd leave out that he was there for a bit until everything was better settled. Simply put, there was no way that she was turning away the only person offering his help to her cause.

His gaze pulled her from her thoughts, and she too glanced at the dance floor. Dumb and Dumber were still there, but their attention had been pulled from Faith to two uber-skanks with crimped, teased hair and neon printed dresses. She looked back to Wesley. He spoke before she could.

"Dear Lord, you're here on patrol aren't you?" he asked, a shocked expression on his face.

Faith answered by raising her eyebrows quickly while a sly grin appeared on her face. "I'd say it's a mix of business AND pleasure," referring to the dancing, drinking, and bonus slayage.

"Speaking of which, I probably should handle Billie and Jean," she added, naming the girls after the 80's song. She forfeited the straw and gulped her drink down instead. She pulled some money from her back pocket and handed it to Wesley.

"Pay the tab and wait ten minutes before meeting me out back?" she asked him, although she didn't wait for an answer as she disappeared in the crowd headed for the dance floor.

[Wesley Wyndam-Pryce]

Wesley was happy to toast to new living arrangements and the opportunity to help out the cause again. Obviously he could see himself fitting in quite nicely to Faith’s group. He’d done it once before and so many years of development and experience had since gone by that he felt more than capable of acting in a much more superior capacity than he had before. Certain successes brought that sort of confidence, but those memorable failures tempered it just enough to keep his bravado in check. Very well in check. He swallowed back the drink and then fumbled awkwardly as Faith pushed the wad of money his direction.

He glanced back out to the dancefloor and absently sorted the bills in order of denomination as she spoke. Pay the tab then wait 10 minutes, huh? Seemed an easy enough job, but before he could open his mouth to ask about what the plan was after that she had already made he way back to the crowd. He pursed his lips and lifted one brow in silent question. Seemed as if Faith’s methodology for planning had not developed as much as he’d hoped in the few minutes they had been sitting here. Still, it was better than no plan at all. So Wesley shrugged and calculated the total in his head and shelled out the proper amount of currency plus adequate gratuity.

“Thank you indeed for your service. Hope to see you soon.” He offered pleasantly enough to the barkeep while keeping his eye on the clock over the bar, then back to his watch. The time passed by so slowly but once the 9 minute and 30 second mark had been reached, he finished the remainder of his drink and casually stood from the bar stool. It would only be a quick walk to the front door, down the side alley, and through the unlocked gate that led to the loading area behind the club. On his trek, he glanced down to a smashed wooden loading pallet and snatched a stray chuck of wood from it. A quick wrap of the splintery blunt end with his handkerchief made a find handle for a primitive but effective stake should one be needed.