Guess who shows up next at the Bronze

It had been one of those days for Faith-in-Joyce. She had expected B to be waiting for her at home and sure enough she wasn't. At least not on the first floor.

Faith-in-Joyce was all set to check the second floor when a thought hit her. Why not go get a quick drink at the Bronze and then come back and search for B?

What? she thought. Am I turning into Mom now? Do I really need a drink that badly.

No, but she felt the need to do something. Fuck the First. She was going down to the Bronze to blow off some steam first and then she'll go out and look for B. Just because she agreed to kill the Slayer didn't mean she was going to start punching a time clock. The First might think that she now owned her but deep down, it was obvious to Faith-in-Joyce who owned whom.

So down she went to the Bronze where she hoped to buy the largest glass of beer she could afford. Hey, why stop with beer? She got money now. Why not the good stuff?

But as she walked into the place, she saw a familiar face sitting at the bar.

No, Faith-in-Joyce thought. It couldn't be. True, the figure in question was wearing a black wig as well as a black dress that was not B's usual style but from behind and from the side, her true identity was blatantly obvious.

Faith-in-Joyce had not expected her assignment to be this easy. But why was B in disguise? Did she find out what happened? Was this supposed to be her clever way of hiding in plain sight?

And what was that she was holding up to her nose? A cross? No, a cocaine spoon disguised as a cross.

Faith-in-Joyce always suspected that the Slayer was not as pure and holy as she pretended to be. How could she be? Faith-in-Joyce certainly wasn't. And the funny part was that the Slayer seemed so intent in indulging her apparently favorite vice right in a public place that she did not even notice Faith-in-Joyce walking up right behind her.

Nor did she even bother to turn around until Faith-in-Joyce put an arm around her neck and proceeded to yank her back from her seat while holding her in a chokehold.

Quick! she thought. Quick! Before her Slayer strength kicks in and she breaks free. There was no way she could take B in a fair fight, given her present physical condition, but Faith-in-Joyce had no intention of taking her in such a fight anyway. Not after the stabbing.

After all, it was all her fault that she had been in a coma. Her fault that the Mayor died. Her fault that Faith-in-Joyce faced a possible lifetime behind bars, if not major trouble with the Watchers Council.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Then someone struck her from behind and hit her so hard in the back that she loosened her chokehold. Before she could respond, that same someone pushed her from B and punched her in the stomach.

A young man with curly dark blonde hair appeared before her and shouted, "Hands off my stepsister! She's not my favorite person in the world right now but I'll be damned if I let her get taken out by an old hag like you."

"Old hag!" cried Faith-in-Joyce. "I'm not an old -- "

Then she noticed Joyce's hands and realized that she was still in Joyce's body. So naturally the young man thought she was Joyce. Or at least a woman Joyce's age.

At this point the brunette with B's face turned and said, "Geez, what's wrong with you, lady? First you try to strangle me, then you start shouting at invisible people."

"It's okay, Kathryn," said the dark blonde man. "She has the Sight. She doesn't look it but she must be Irish. So you don't have to cover for me."

"Kathryn?" asked Faith-in-Joyce. "You can't be Kathryn. You're B."

"Bea?" asked the brunette and the dark blonde man simultaneously.

"No," said Faith-in-Joyce. "B. You see..."

Then Faith-in-Joyce saw from the blank look on their faces that they had no idea what she was talking about. Surely there was no way B could be that good an actress, could she?

"Who are you?" Faith-in-Joyce asked.

"Who are you?" asked the brunette.

"I'm Fai -- er, Joyce Lehane," said Faith-in-Joyce. "I was looking for someone who stabbed my daughter last year. I thought you were her. You two look so much alike apart from the hair color."

"What?" asked the brunette with a laugh. "You honestly thought this was a wig? That's it. I'm firing my hair stylist."

"So again," asked Faith-in-Joyce, "who are you?"

"Oh, boy, you just don't know when to quit," said the brunette. "My name is Kathryn Merteuil. This is my late step-brother Sebastian Valmont. He commited suicide last year and apparently his punishment by the Powers That Be is to serve as my guardian spirit. He has the power to become tangible and intangible at will which means that he can hit you but you can never hit him. Unless you're extremely lucky."

"Why are you telling me all this?" asked Faith-in-Joyce.

"Because you just tried to kill me, you bitch," said Kathryn, "and now Sebastian has fair reason to regard you as his new least favorite person in the universe. So I hope you know how to fight because I'm going to enjoy watching Sebastian beat the living crap out of you."

And judging from the expression on Kathryn's and Sebastian's faces, it seemed fairly obvious that neither one of them was kidding.

Oh-oh, thought Faith-in-Joyce. This is definitely not my lucky day.