Born To Raise Hellmouth

Author: Tim Knight

Title: Born to Raise Hellmouth

Copyrighted: January 2000

Category: Crossover

Rating: PG-13, possibly R: Some Language, Lots of fight scenes.

Spoilers: Buffy: Series as normal in Season 2 up until Phases.

Highlander: Up until the Season Five finale, which does not take place. Richie is still alive.

Chronicles of Wanderer: Calling Out the Clan/Slayer Run.

Keywords: Buffy/Highlander (Both movies and the series)/Hellraiser/A few others (Here is the full listing: Forgotten Realms; Ravenloft; Highway to Heaven; Gargoyles; NYPD Blue; Punisher (Marvel Comics, not the movie); Morbius (Marvel Comics); Ghost Rider (Marvel Comics); Lost Boys; Nightmare on Elm Street; Mortal Kombat; Xena; Red Sonja; Serrated Edge (by Mercedes Lackey).

Summary: A warrior escapes a dark realm only to become part of a prophecy that involves Drusilla and her new toy, a certain puzzle box, and the warrior discovers a connection to a Slayerette that neither ever imagined.

Legalese: All characters except those noted below with their respective rights, properties and copyrights are the property of their respective creators, authors, owners, producers and agencies. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will be made from this story. The story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright information remains. The concept of the Ghost Roads is property of Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder, from their Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy novels.

The characters Shawukay Redarrow/Shaw Hunter, Enrico Marquez, Maria Martinez, Ulric Johansen, Tobabaird and Maxine are mine. Anyone wanting to use them can e-mail me at doobytim@aol.com.

The characters Steve St. Wolf/Wanderer, Frank Iverson, and Randi Jessup, as well as the universe that this story takes place in, are property of Steve Pantovich, and are used with permission. He may be contacted at: Steve711@concentric.net.

The character Robin Goodfellow is property of Mike Weyer.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, remember that Dungeons and Dragons cartoon where Earth kids become their characters, also seen in the books Guardians of the Flame by Joel Rosenburg, In the Net of Dreams/When Dreams Collide by W. Mark Simmons, and Caverns of Socrates by Dennis L. McKiernan? Well, this is the same concept, but in reverse.
Those reading this story may wish to read the "Chronicles of Wanderer" series by Steve Pantovich, particularly "New Beginnings" and "Calling Out the Clan." This will give you the feeling for the universe in which this story takes place. You can copy this story, send me praise, send me criticism, or copy the story and burn it in effigy (in private of course). I would like any comments that you have.

DEDICATIONS: To Steve Pantovich, also known as the Editor, and Grand High Poobah of the Wandererverse (he hates that) for letting me play in his universe without (hopefully) leaving too much of a mess. To Rebekah, who is Steve's beta reader, and is proofreading mine. Also, to Timbo down under for his help with discussions of Ghost Rider and the Spirits of Vengeance. As well as Mike Weyer, who added Robin into the mix.

Here are the changes from your standard shows:

BUFFY:
1. Buffy is Immortal as the result of her temporary drowning death at the hands of the Master in the episode "Prophecy Girl."
2. Jenny Calendar is alive and well, as Passion did not take place.
3. Angel is Angelus, as Becoming Pts. 1 and 2 did not take place.
4. Kendra is alive and well, for the same reason Angel is still Angelus.
5. Amy is not a rat, a big rat, a dirty rat, or a big dirty rat, and is a full-fledged member of the Scooby Gang.

HIGHLANDER:
1. Richie Ryan is alive and well.

WARNINGS: If you don't like multiple one-liners, be warned. This story contains Spike, Freddy Krueger, the Corey boys from Lost Boys, AND Andy Sipowicz.

Born to Raise Hellmouth

Part 1: Escape

"Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last."
---Martin Luther King

Nharov River
Southwest Barovia
Ravenloft
748 Common Year

As a waning moon was kept rising over Barovia, Shawukay crouched amid a cluster of elm trees along the Nharov River. Scanning from east to west, and back again, the half-elf's infravision allowed her to pick out the forest animals by their body heat. However, her quarry had yet to make an appearance.

Shawukay started as she caught a strange sound on the wind. To the east, she strained to make out the sounds of some large creature making its way through the woods.

<Hmmm. Not human, too large. Too clumsy. But not an animal. I had better have a look.>

Shawukay exited the cover of the elms and began to follow the sounds towards their source. Seconds later, a lithe form followed her.

Three quarters of an hour later, Shawukay was less than a hundred yards from the band that had produced the noise she had heard.

A group of Invidian soldiers, six humans and a pair of large ogres, heavily armed, were apparently tracking something as she had tracked them.

<Why would Invidian mercenaries be in Barovia?> Shawukay asked herself. <They cannot be here for vampires like I am; Strahd would take them out in seconds.>

Suddenly, Shawukay realized what their purpose was.

<Vistani! They are hunting gypsies.>

<Well, that is not my concern. The vampire is. That is why I am here.>

With that, Shawukay turned and began to return to her previous location.

Shawukay's mind began to wander, as she remembered the reasons she battled the undead, for the deaths of her grandparents. The half-elven ranger-priest had been fighting the blood-drinkers for nearly a third of her fifty-three years, although she still looked in her early twenties by human terms. She had been on this plane for thirteen of those years, since being brought here by the mysterious Mists.

<Thirteen years. Killing, more killing. Vampires, ghouls, undead creatures. All in the name of justice.> Shawukay stopped and reached into the pocket of her jerkin, pulling out a small silver pin in the shape of a harp and crescent moon.

Looking at the pin, Shawukay revised her earlier thought.

<No, not justice, but revenge.> Shawukay's eyes narrowed. <Empty, useless, worthless vengeance. Is this what I am now? All I am? A cold, unfeeling killer?>

Shawukay looked up at the night sky and cried out to her goddess.

"Mielikki! Why has this happened?!? Why am I becoming so heartless?" Shawukay felt a tear trace its way down her cheek. "Is this my destiny, to become as merciless as those I hunt? No longer. Never again. To the abyss with Drevok and his kind."

With that Shawukay began to run after the Invidian party.

*****

Two hours later

Gregor was playing a sharp tune on his fiddle as Tilana danced around the fire, her multicolored skirts flaring, showing off her legs, the muscled legs of a dancer. The rest of the Vistani tribe clapped along, steadily increasing the tempo of their rhythm. Tilana appeared to be up to the challenge, spinning faster and faster as the music's tempo increased.

From her vardo, Madame Selanne, the elder of the Vistani, listened as her clan enjoyed themselves. At nearly eighty years of age, Selanne's hair was no longer the raven black of her younger years, but almost snowy white. Other than this, she had weathered the years in this hard land better than most.

As she sat ruminating over her tarokka deck, wondering at the signs she read, an uneasy thought crept across her mind. Cautiously, Selanne invoked her sight.

As she scanned the surrounding area, she took notice of several auras closing towards the encampment.

<Let us see. Several giorgio nearby. One, a nosferatu, hunting. A servant of the master Strahd.> Selanne focused on the others. <Another, also hunting. A source of light, but fearing the darkness. SHE is the one who is to come tonight, to be sent elsewhere. The others... nothing but darkness. Coming this way...>

Selanne's eyes snapped open.

The old Vistana barely moved before she heard a shout.

*****

Shawukay was near the rear of the raiders, trying to come up with a plan to neutralize the Invidians.

<How do I do this?> She looked at their alignment. <The ogres are too big to be taken out with the longbow. Yes. That one on the right, two arrows, then I charge the ogres. Hopefully, the Vistani can handle the humans.>

As Shawukay began to draw her longbow, a form dropped next to her. Shawukay turned to see her previous prey, the vampire Drevok. Shawukay jumped back, and quickly notched a silver-tipped arrow.

Drevok stood back in a guard position, but made no move to attack. Standing six foot two, the vampire towered over the half-elf by nearly eight inches. His short cropped blonde hair and goatee seemed to accent the paleness of his skin.

"Peace, Hunter." he said. "I'm not here for you. Although I would enjoy taking your life, those weren't my orders."

Shawukay narrowed her eyes at the implication of that last phrase.

"Of course, you were not hunting. You were following me just to pass the time."

She slowly drew back her bowstring. "Give me one good reason not to take you right here and now."

Drevok began to look nervous. "The Master would avenge me. He sent me to follow and observe you, nothing more." The vampire smirked. "He wanted to see if your reputation was accurate."

"I have more important matters to attend to!" Shawukay whispered harshly. "A band of Invidians is about to attack that band of Vistani, whom I believe are under your precious Master's protection. I wonder how Lord Von Zarovich would feel if you failed to tell him that the Dukkar sent raiders into his land, and attacked those under his protection." she finished with a sneer.

If at all possible, Drevok's face grew even paler. "The Master will hear of this." With that he changed into a large brown bat and flew off into the night.

Shawukay turned back and restrung her bow. Seeing that the raiders were about to attack, Shawukay drew the string back so far that the fletching on her arrow grazed her cheek. As the target in her sights stood and began to draw a weapon, she let the arrow fly.

The arrow struck the mercenary's back, sinking into his right shoulder with a sickening thud. Even as he began to cry out, a second arrow entered his skull, silencing him forever.

As one of the ogres turned to see who was attacking the raiding party, Shawukay dropped her bow and charged the ogre, drawing her longsword and screaming as loudly as she could, hoping to alert the Vistani.

Soulreaver, Shawukay's longsword, glowed with a bright white flame along its blade. While the sword was enchanted, its powers were for destroying undead. The flames themselves were faerie fire, totally harmless, but she was gambling that the ogres wouldn't know that. Apparently, they didn't, as they began to look worried at the sight of a warrior charging them with a flaming sword.

One ogre, brandishing a large battle-axe, sneered with his tusks showing over his top lip, attempted to meet Shawukay's charge with a massive overhead chop. Shawukay rolled to the ogre's left, into a forward somersault that left her behind the ogre, and left the ogre overbalanced.

Shawukay swung Soulreaver with a backhanded swing, slicing into the rear of the ogre's left knee, severing the hamstring. The ogre fell to the earth, screaming and clutching his ruined leg.

Shawukay looked around, and saw one of the human raiders charging her. She drew one of the daggers from her belt and engaged the mercenary.

The raider looked surprised to be facing an opponent that knew how to fight in a two-handed style. He attempted a backhanded strike, but a glowing blade intercepted his sword. Before he could recover, a silver-bladed knife found his jugular vein.

As her second opponent dropped, Shawukay was distracted by the sound of a thunderclap, followed by a bright flash, like lightning. She allowed herself a small grin.

A bellow brought Shawukay back to the business at hand. As she turned, a large fist clipped her skull, knocking her several feet back. Stars crossed her vision as she dropped her longsword.

"Well, human..." A gravelly, deeply accented voice said to her, "You not good as you thought. Natok make meal of you."

Shawukay's vision cleared enough for her to see the second ogre approaching her. As he bent over, she grabbed the daggers from the sheath on each forearm and carved an "x" across the ogre's throat.

The ogre screamed, and fell to the side, attempting to stem the flow of blood erupting from his neck. Shawukay climbed onto the ogre's large back and drove one of her daggers hilt-deep into the ogre's skull, sending him to whatever afterlife he had earned.

The first ogre was trying unsuccessfully to stand up on his ruined leg. He glared at Shawukay as she picked up her sword and walked over to him. She lifted his chin with the point of her sword. She looked down the flaming blade and into the ogre's black eyes. She then lowered the blade and stepped back.

"Go home. Tell the Dukkar to leave the Vistani alone."

With that, Shawukay sheathed Soulreaver and walked towards the Vistani camp.

*****

Gregor was amazed. No sooner had their been a scream, when several giorgio in the uniforms of Invidia had charged into the camp, weapons waving, when his grandmother Selanne had calmly opened the door to her vardo and silenced every single raider with one lightning spell. The raiders had made not a single attack before they lie dead, charred beyond recognition.

Tilana gasped as someone entered the ring of wagons. Gregor watched as the giorgio woman, an outsider, walked calmly into their midst. Tilana looked suspicious, but not fearful. Madame Selanne stood in front of the vardo, showing no concern whatsoever.

The woman dropped her hood, revealing long black hair, dark as any of Vistani blood, tied back in a braid that fell below her shoulders. The hair contrasted with the white colored skin, tinged with blue on the cheekbones, with an ugly bruise forming on one of her temples, evidence that she had not escaped unscathed from whatever fight she had been part of. Lastly, the woman's ears tapered to a soft point, showing off an elvish ancestry.

She stood about five and a half feet tall, with a trim, athletic body. Her left hand rested easily upon the sword belted at her hip. Gregor could see two daggers on her belt as well.

The woman scanned the camp with hazel, almond shaped eyes, then walked straight towards the elder, Selanne.

Gregor began to move to intercept the giorgio, but Selanne cut him short with a slight shake of her head.

"Welcome to our camp, Hunter of the Harp." Selanne addressed the warrior.

Gregor and Tilana glanced at each other at that name. The Hunter of the Harp was well known in Kartakass, as a hunter of those who walked after death. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing. <What is she doing in Barovia?>

The Hunter bowed her head to the matriarch. "Greetings, Grandmother. I see that you handled the rest of the mercenaries. Two humans and an ogre lie dead a hundred paces outside the camp."

The half-elf looked around. "Did any of your people suffer injuries? I have some spells of healing, if they are required."

"No, my people are unscathed." Selanne looked her visitor over. "But it appears you are not. Come into my vardo, we will talk."

Gregor knew that tone, a request that was actually a command. Apparently, the Hunter knew it, as well.

"Of course. Thank you for your hospitality."

The half-elf followed Madame Selanne into the vardo, leaving Gregor to wonder what was in store for the warrior.

*****

Selanne pointed to a stool, indicating that Shawukay should sit.

"Sit down, Shawukay Redarrow, and let us talk to one another."

Shawukay sat down, and asked Selanne, "You know me, Grandmother?"

"You do not seemed surprised," Selanne grinned.

"No. I have heard the stories of the Vistani," Shawukay stated. "I would be more surprised if you did not know more about me than I do."

Selanne picked up on the ruefulness of that statement.

"Why did you come tonight, Hunter?" she asked.

Shawukay stared at the elder. "What do you mean?"

"You would normally have gone after Drevok." Selanne smiled at the half-elf's shock. "Yes, I knew you were out there. I felt him, you, the raiders. Still, when you had the chance, you let him go. You chose to help those who have nothing to do with your quest for revenge."

Shawukay sighed. "I am simply sick of the killing. I have more contact with the walking dead, killing them, than I do with living beings! I was going to leave you, you know? That vampire's death was more important than those lives that were going to be in danger if I had left."

Shawukay shuddered, and looked back up. "That forced me to look at myself. And needless to say, I was not happy with what I saw. I used to fight to help others, to save lives. Now I kill vampires because I have been doing it so long that it is a habit. Now it is time for a change. I cannot bring back those taken from me but I can decide to begin helping other folk again."

Shawukay looked at Selanne. There was a note of fear in her voice. "Tell me, Vistani. You see what is to come. Am I too far into the dark, or can I come back to where I was?"

Selanne shook her head. "Young one, that is your dilemma. You are the only one who can determine what is in your heart. But tonight, you made a choice, and maybe, just maybe, you took a step in the direction you seek."

"However," Selanne stated, "your time on this plane is short. You did not come here tonight by chance."

Selanne stood and walked over to a small chest.

"You see my death." It wasn't a question.

Selanne chuckled. "No, Shawukay Redarrow, priestess of Mielikki, daughter of Toril. I do not see your death. Your time on THIS plane is over."

"I do not..."

Selanne cut the ranger off. "Understand. Understanding is for later. Here." Selanne handed Shawukay a scroll. "When you read this, you will be taken where you need to go."

"Toril? My home?"

Selanne shook her head, "Not where you WANT to go, but where you NEED to go. Where you are NEEDED. There are other worlds, Hunter, that need sources of light. This will take you to one, where you must fight the darkness, or it will become like the one where we stand."

"I cannot do this alone, Grandmother."

"You will not be alone. You will have allies, as you will have enemies. You must determine which are which at the right time."

Selanne drew Shawukay's eyes into her own, "But know this. The darkness in your soul is still there, but you must fight it if you are to save not only yourself, but others as well."

Selanne turned to the door, "Now go, an old woman needs her rest. And another world needs you."

Shawukay looked shaken. "Thank you Madame. I will not forget this."

"No, you will not. But it is time for you to go."

With that, Shawukay turned at walked out of the wagon and into the night.

*****

Part 2: Arrival

"Welcome to Earth!"
---Steve Harris, Independence Day
(Seconds after knocking out an alien with a right cross)

Nharov River
Southwest Barovia
Ravenloft
748 Common Year

The sun began to rise in the east, coloring the eastern sky in shades of pink, casting light off of the snow covered peaks of the distant Balinok mountains. Watching the reddish orb continue its ascent, Shawukay's mind whirled with the memories of the previous night's events.

The thoughts sped through her mind, flying faster than she could put them in order.

Shawukay looked at the scroll in her left hand, and remembered something the gypsy had told her.

<Understanding is for later. I hope she was right. Well, if I am going to go, I must go quickly, but not unprepared.> She mentally started tallying up her resources. <Food, water, and spells. Definitely spells.>

Shawukay sat on the forest floor, underneath a large maple tree. Crossing her legs, Shawukay reached underneath her tunic, pulling out a small pendant shaped like the head of a unicorn. Releasing the pendant, the holy symbol rested over the half-elf's heart.

Shawukay rested her arms on her thighs and closed her eyes. Clearing her mind, the priestess called on her patron.

<Mielikki, Lady of the Forest, hear your daughter. See into her heart, and tell her your will.>

Shawukay felt the familiar touch, the same feeling she had felt since first hearing the calling as a child. Spells filled her mind, the ability to tap into the goddess' divine power.

Unlike wizards, who memorized their spells from books and made their magic by tapping into the aura of magic that surrounded a world, priests such as Shawukay received their abilities directly from the gods whom they served. To Shawukay, it was a pleasant feeling.

As the feeling faded, Shawukay opened her eyes. Looking at the sky, she was surprised to see than over a full hour had passed.

Shawukay headed north, along the Nharov River. Eventually, she saw what she was looking for. Along a stretch of oaks, there were numerous marks in the bark. Scrapes, as if something had rubbed the bark continuously.

The half-elf knelt down and searched the ground. Sure enough, dirt had been disturbed, leaving fresh marks to follow. Shawukay started following the trail that she had detected.

As the sun approached its zenith, Shawukay finally spotted her prey, a medium-sized buck, with short, three pointed antlers. The deer was rubbing his antlers against a medium-sized oak, but obviously wary. The animal occasionally stopped and looked around, scanning the area, moving its ears in all directions, flicking its tail up and down.

There was little cover around the buck, so Shawukay began to ready her bow. At a range approaching fifty yards, the shot would be challenging, even for an archer of her skill. Shawukay put on a new bowstring, and drew an arrow, preparing to line up her shot.

As the buck raised its head again, Shawukay fired her shot. The arrow struck home, entering the deer's body at the base of the neck, just above its left shoulder. Startled, the deer took off, bounding into the forest.

Shawukay cursed. <Excellent. Now I have to track it. So much for a clean kill.> Angry at herself, Shawukay walked over to where the deer had been standing when it was shot. On the ground was a large pool of blood.

<Good. At least he will not get far, with a wound like that. He will not suffer.>

Shawukay traipsed into the deeper woods, taking her time every few steps to check the trail for signs of the deer's passage. As it was, the deer made a full quarter of a mile before finally dropping, taking the hunter a full hour to find the body.

Shawukay strung the deer from a tree, and began dressing the deer, saving pieces of the hide as well as meat. As the sun began its final descent, she finally finished the task. Shawukay wrapped the meat inside strips of hide, and started back for her campsite.

Shawukay entered the site just as the sun dropped below the horizon. Starting a fire, she searched her mind for appropriate spells to ward the camp through the night.

<Yes, that will do.> Shawukay stood and began chanting silently, a prayer to Mielikki. An eerie blue light began glowing around the camp, twenty feet in diameter. As Shawukay finished her prayer, the light faded, although the half-elf knew the spell was in effect.

She turned to her pack, and removed the scroll that the Vistani had given her. She reached back into the pack and pulled out a steel headband. Fitting the headband in place, Shawukay unrolled the scroll and glanced through it, taking care not to read it aloud.

<So, it opens a portal to wherever, and it closes five minutes after I pass through.> Shawukay mused. <Seems simple enough.>

Shawukay began to prepare herself for the spell. First, she planted daggers about her person, two at her right hip, one in each boot, and one on each forearm, in sheathes hidden under her sleeves. Her longbow, the bowstring running over her left shoulder down to her right hip. A quiver full of silver-tipped arrows, tied to her back.

Her weapons in place, Shawukay added two items. The first was a pair of wristbands. The bands were heavily enchanted: When on her wrists, she was afforded the same protection she would receive wearing a suit of chain mail armor. Unlike some warriors who stuffed themselves into pounds of metal, Shawukay relied on her considerable agility and stamina in battle. The second item was a ring, gold set with a black star sapphire. Also magical, the ring allowed her to heal at a slightly accelerated rate. Shawukay winced as she touched the bruise at her left temple.

<Should have worn it last night, you fool.> she chided herself.

Shawukay turned and picked up the scroll. As she prepared to recite the spell, a voice came out of the darkness.

"So, Hunter, what are you up to now?"

Shawukay whirled, Soulreaver in her hands without her consciously drawing it. She stared at Drevok, standing just outside the barrier of her protection spell. "What do you want, blooddrinker?" Shawukay asked through gritted teeth.

Drevok was wearing black leathers, and he had a longsword sticking over his shoulder. He gave a sly smile to the ranger.

"My Master sent me. He said to thank you for protecting the Vistani last night. He found great amusement in a vampire hunter enforcing his will."

Shawukay started forward, but caught herself short of the spell barrier. Drevok could see the rage she was famous for almost as heat rising off of her. He taunted her again.

"He also said that you have until tomorrow night to leave Barovia."

That statement got through. Shawukay stepped back, reason returning to her face.

"So be it. Give my regards to Strahd." Shawukay picked up the scroll, unrolled it, and began to read.

<What is she doing?> Drevok thought. He took a step forward, but was stopped by the half-elf's protection spell.

After a full minute, the scroll disappeared and a glowing red oval, seven feet tall, appeared. Shawukay turned to Drevok, a look of surprise on her face.

"Farewell, Drevok. May you die soon." she said as she stepped through the portal.

Drevok was shocked, not working to close his jaw. It took him a few seconds to notice the shift of power in the air. As he realized what had happened, he moved forward. The spell barrier was gone.

The vampire grinned. "Well, I'll be damned." He gazed at the portal. "Why not?" With that, he stepped through.

*****

Great Salt Flats
Northern Utah
12 May 1998

Shawukay exited the portal, and stepped out onto a strange surface in the middle of a starry night.

<What in the Nine Hells is this?> she thought as she kneeled down and touched the strange substance. <It is hard, but is is not stone. Some kind of trade route perhaps?>

Shawukay decided to cast a spell. A quick prayer, and a burst of light exploded over her head. The half-elf jumped.

"By the Goddess!!" she exclaimed.

The light spell, a simple illumination, was two or three times the size it should have been.

Shawukay quickly realized that she was in the middle of a desert. On either side of the weird surface upon which she stood, sand and rocks stretched off into the distance.

<Oh, Mielikki, please tell me that I am not here to save a wasteland.>

Shawukay's thought was cut short by a loud curse.

"By Strahd's blood! Who brought out the sun!"

<No! The portal!> Shawukay thought, horrified. Sure enough, when she turned around, Drevok was in front of the portal, with his hands over his eyes.

"Where did you take us, Hunter?!?" the vampire demanded. "Nova Vaasa?"

"Actually, you bastard," Shawukay sneered, "We are not even on that plane any longer." She quickly put some space between them and drew Soulreaver, the white fire dimmed a bit by the bright orb above their heads.

"WHAT?!?" Drevok looked aghast. "Why are we here?"

"Ask the Vistani, they sent me here."

"Well. New circumstances, new rules." Drevok drew his sword, and threw Shawukay a jaunty salute. "I guess I get to kill you after all."

With that, Drevok threw a wicked slash.

Shawukay easily parried the blow, but the power of his stroke sent shivers of pain up both her arms.

<IDIOT! He is twice as strong as you are! Do not try to match his power. Use your training!> she berated herself.

Drevok tried another slash, meant to take off the half-elf's left arm. However, rather than being parried, the blade meant empty air. As he recovered, his opponent tried a forward lunge, which he had to jump back to avoid. The vampire breathed a sigh of relief; to be cut by that sword was certain death. He threw another attack, which the half-elf avoided, then threw a slash of her own.

When Drevok blocked, the crossguards of both swords became entangled. As the opponents drew close, Drevok threw a punch over the joined blades, solidly connecting with a right to the ranger's jaw.

As she staggered back, Drevok's face grew a nasty grin. When the Hunter looked back at him, his grin died.

<What in the name of...> Drevok's thought trailed off as the stared at his opponent.

Shawukay's eyes were blazed with anger, any semblance of restraint vanished. She raised her sword and swung with the clear intention of separating the vampire's head from his shoulders. Drevok blocked the blow, but was shocked at the power of the strike.

Drevok was forced onto the defensive, as Shawukay threw strike after strike, not allowing the vampire to do anything but block and retreat. He could not believe what was happening.

<She's insane! She isn't this strong! This can't be happening!>

Drevok dodged a strike and was able to land a blow to the half-elf's right thigh. Drevok began to feel more confident; that blow should slow her down.

Or so he believed.

Shawukay turned and charged Drevok, a raging elvish battle cry on her lips. The vampire parried desperately as she threw blow after blow at him.

Drevok backed up again, but tripped off the edge of the surface they had been fighting on. As he landed on his rear end, he stuck his sword out to keep his opponent at bay.

Shawukay narrowed her eyes as she delivered a two-handed swing of her glowing blade.

Drevok felt the impact, and then stared in shock at the ruined stump of his blade, six jagged inches being all that was left of the sword.

Drevok looked into Shawukay's eyes, expecting to see rage. What he did see chilled him to the core.

A total lack of any emotion, whatsoever.

Shawukay drove Soulreaver into Drevok's stomach. The vampire screeched as he was enveloped in a bright white flame. As he grabbed the blade entering his body in a futile gesture, the vampire disintegrated in a flash of light.

As the light faded, the rage slowly drained out of the half-elf. As reason returned, Shawukay realized what had happened. She began to shake as her body's energy drained out of her.

<Again.> she thought tiredly. <It happened again. I lose myself in rage. It does not matter that I killed Drevok, I was out of control! What if he had had a victim? What would have happened?>

As Shawukay returned to normal, the pain in her leg and jaw erupted in a rush. Shawukay collapsed, falling on her side.

"Aaahhh!!" she cried, beginning to realize how much she had been hurt.

Shawukay cleared her mind, focusing on banishing the pain, to attempt a healing spell.

As she chanted, Shawukay felt the magic building. She opened her eyes, to see the familiar golden glow envelop her hands. She placed her hands on her thigh, wincing at the pain, but keeping her concentration. The wound began to knit itself together.

Shawukay stared in shock at the wound completely sealed.

<What in the name of Mielikki is going on?!?> she thought. <My spell! What is happening?>

Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

<First, my light spell, now my healing spell. Are all my spells going to be enhanced? What is it about this plane that is doing this?>

Shawukay stood up, shaking her head at the recent developments. Gingerly setting her right foot down, she tested the leg. Surprisingly, it held.

<Good. Now, I need to figure out where to go.> Shawukay looked at the strange road she had arrived on. <Well, it goes in two directions, but which do I take?>

She looked up at the star filled sky and sighed.

"Of course it is night. Mielikki forbid it actually be daylight." the half-elf muttered. "Fine, let us go this way."

And Shawukay started walking into the night.

*****

Great Salt Flats
Northern Utah
13 May 1998

As the sun kept rising, the temperature began to rise drastically. Shawukay turned around to see the sun off in the distance, as sweat poured down her face.

<Several hours, and not a sign of civilization. Not even a village. What kind of world is this?> She thought, frustration beginning to manifest itself.

Shawukay moved to the side of the path she had been walking on. Removing her vest and tunic, she drew one of the daggers from her belt. Frowning at the necessity of what she had to do, she pushed the dagger into the seam where the sleeve met the shoulder. Shawukay quickly ripped the sleeve off, and proceeded to repeat the process with the other sleeve. She then put the tunic back on, and placed the vest in her pack.

Shawukay replaced her cloak, donning the hood to keep the sun off of her face. Finally satisfied, she resumed her trek.

Some time later, she saw something in the distance. She raised her hand to her eyes, trying to make out details. It turned out to be unnecessary, as the thing was approaching at an impressive rate of speed.

It looked like a carriage, like those used by rich merchants. It was totally enclosed, but Shawukay could see light reflecting off glass, or something similar. The wheels were strange, not being made of wood, and there were no horses pulling it. How did it move?

Shawukay moved to the middle of the path, and raised a hand in greeting. The strange carriage hurtled towards her, then started slowing down, eventually coming to a stop less than five feet in front of her.

Shawukay's eyes widened a bit as she as it dawned on her what could have happened if the person inside this device had chosen not to stop. Her heart sped up a bit as she realized her mistake.

A door opened, and a male human of advancing middle years emerged. He was of above average height, with greying brown hair, and a beard with much more grey in it. He wore a woven shirt, red with black markings. His leggings were blue, and of no material Shawukay recognized. His footwear was also strange, cloth with strange soles. He wore some type of cap, with some type of lettering. He did not look pleased.

"Are you crazy?!? You don't stand in the middle of the road where any car can hit you! You're lucky you weren't killed!"

Shawukay looked at the human with a hard stare, and snapped back at him. "Well, I apologize for showing you the common courtesy of waving a greeting."

The human looked perplexed, and asked her, "What language are you speaking?"

<Wonderful. He does not speak Common.> Shawukay thought, disgusted. <Wait. I'm the one who does not speak HIS language. The headband is translating his words.>

A younger man exited the carriage from the other side during their exchange. He appeared to be in his early forties, with wavy brown hair falling to his shoulders. He wore clothing similar to the other human, but wore boots instead of the shoes of the other man. The man looked at Shawukay, and then over at his companion.

"What's going on, Mark?" the younger man asked.

The man started to look concerned. "This girl's walking in the middle of the road, in the desert, and doesn't speak English." He turned back to Shawukay. "You look like you've been out here awhile. Let's get a look at you."

Seeing no harm in his request, Shawukay lowered her hood.

The human's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped. He looked at Jonathan and said, "Jonathan! It's an alien!"

Shawukay watched the human with some amusement.

The man named Jonathan started grinning. "What's wrong, Mark? I don't think I heard you quite correctly."

The human called Mark stammered, "She's an alien! Look at her ears!"

<My ears?> Shawukay groaned. <Oh, no.>

Jonathan's grin blossomed into a full smile. "You're right Mark, she's an alien alright. I think all aliens walk around carrying longbows and swords." Jonathan said these words sternly, but the half-elf could see the humor dancing in his eyes.

"What?" Mark looked back at Shawukay and took a long look at her, finally noticing the bow on her back and the sword belted at her hip. "Well, then, what is it?"

That comment shortened Shawukay's fuse.

"An 'it' now, am I?"

Jonathan finally let the laughter break out, while Mark and Shawukay both stared at him, watching him laugh loudly.

"And may I ask what it is you find so amusing, human?" Shawukay asked, glaring at the younger man.

Jonathan calmed himself, although it was clearly an effort.

"Sorry, but apparently Mark's watched too many "Star Trek" reruns." he said.

"And what in the Abyss is a 'Star Trek?'" Shawukay asked, before realizing something. "You can understand me?"

"Jonathan, you understand it?" the one called Mark asked, coming to the same conclusion, forcing her to reevaluate his intelligence upward a bit. A little bit.

Jonathan looked to Shawukay. "I can understand you the same way you can understand us." He pointed at Shawukay's headband.

"You mean magic." she said, quickly getting the idea.

"Yes. Who are you?" he asked her.

"My name is Shawukay Redarrow." she answered.

"All right. I'm Jonathan. You've met Mark." Jonathan indicated the older man with a nod of his head.

"Well met. You two are human, correct?"

"More or less. What about you? Humans don't exactly have, well, facial features like yours."

"My father was human. My mother was Elvish. I am a half-elf."

Jonathan smiled. "Fair enough. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Shawukay was beginning to get suspicious. "Walking. And trying to avoid being run over by magical carriages or killed by vampires."

Jonathan's eyebrows rose. "Vampires? Where?"

"Do not worry. It is no longer a concern." Shawukay patted the hilt of her sword, leaving no doubt as to her meaning.

Jonathan looked impressed. Mark looked confused, as he could only understand one half of the conversation. Jonathan looked at the sky for a second, then back at Shawukay. He turned to Mark, and nodded his head back to their vehicle.

Mark and Jonathan walked to the door that Mark had exited, and began talking. After a couple of minutes, Jonathan walked over to where Shawukay stood waiting.

"Shawukay, do you have a place to go? Mark and I could give you a lift." Jonathan said, looking serious.

"A 'lift?'" she repeated, not understanding the term.

"A ride. We could take you to your destination." Jonathan clarified.

"I might be willing to accompany you, it you can answer a few questions for me." Shawukay informed him.

"Go ahead," Jonathan said, grinning.

"Very well. First, what is the name of this world?" she asked as she looked at the desert around her.

"Okay, this world is called Earth, this is just a small part of it."

"Earth?" Jonathan nodded. "Simple. Appropriate. Second question: How am I your 'assignment?'"

Jonathan looked surprised. "You heard that?"

Shawukay gave him a wicked glare. "An advantage of my 'unique' facial features."

The man looked embarrassed. "I'll answer that question for you later, it that's all right."

"Perhaps, if you answer the other two questions sufficiently." Shawukay told him. "Third question: Who is 'The Boss?'"

Jonathan groaned. "That's what Mark calls God."

"Which God?" she pressed him.

"God." Jonathan stated. "That's what most of his worshipers call him."

Shawukay's eyes rose at that comment. <But Mielikki must be worshipped here, if I am still receiving spells.>

Jonathan noticed her face. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"It is nothing. Final question: What is a 'Santa Claws?'"

With that Jonathan doubled over laughing. After several minutes, he gained control of himself. When he looked at Shawukay, he realized that if looks could kill, he would have been blown to bits.

"Just something to do with elves. It's kind of complicated."

"Jonathan, you may be under the impression that I am easily amused, or distracted," Shawukay told him abruptly. "Let me dissuade you of that notion right now."

Something about this human, something she couldn't identify, made Shawukay want to trust him. But years of fighting night-crawling monsters had made her less than willing to open up to strangers. But Jonathan was different, somehow.

"I am not from this world. I was brought here, by magic, because I was told that I was needed here. Now, I have not even been here for a full day, and I have been attacked, punched, stabbed, sunburned, and nearly run down by whatever THAT thing is you and your friend are traveling in. So please forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm for your sense of humor. I might be willing to travel with you, but I have no idea where I am, where I am going, or where I am supposed to be going. So, if you have information about me from your God, I suggest that you not hold it back."

Shawukay turned and began to walk towards Mark's carriage. Jonathan cleared his throat, and Shawukay turned to see what he wanted.

"Shawukay, may I suggest that you remove your weapons?"

The ranger stared him down. "Why?"

"Because here on Earth, young women generally do not walk around armed to the teeth like an Amazon."

"Why?" she asked again, her eyes narrowing.

"You would probably be arrested, for one thing."

"All right. Here." Shawukay unbelted her sword and handed it to Jonathan hilt-first, tensing as he took it. When nothing happened, she relaxed a bit.

Jonathan noticed. "What?"

"If you were evil, touching that sword would have been a very unpleasant experience."

"How unpleasant?" he asked.

"Like being struck by lightning." she said without any trace of sarcasm.

"So I passed the test?" Jonathan asked, a grin creeping back onto his face.

Shawukay didn't grin back. "For now." She then turned and entered the vehicle.

Jonathan shook his head, grinning the whole while, as he entered the vehicle and it began moving.

*****

Desert Highway
Eastern Utah
Early hours
14 May 1998

Shawukay listened from the back seat as Mark and Jonathan talked about things that made no sense to her. Baseball? Oakland? It made no sense. She passed her time by watching the stars as the vehicle moved. As the night grew, Shawukay began to grow tired. However, despite the fact that Jonathan had handled her sword, her trust only went so far.

Partly, it was resentment over Mark nearly running her over with his "car," as he called it. Mostly it was what her infravision revealed to her.

Mark glowed in shades of red and yellow. Perfectly normal for a human. Jonathan might as well of not even been there. Not red, not bluish like undead. Nothing. He generated no body heat whatsoever. She decided to solve that mystery right now.

"Jonathan?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"What is it, Shawukay? Do you need something?"

Mark glanced into the mirror on his "windshield," then quickly averted his eyes at the sight of glowing red eyes looking back at him.

"I hate to ask this, but could we stop?"

"Why?" Jonathan looked suspicious.

"Well, it has been several hours, and..." she trailed off.

"Oh, sure. Mark, stop the car?" he asked his partner.

"What's up?" Mark sounded even more suspicious than Jonathan.

"Pit Stop." Jonathan said.

"Oh!" Mark quickly moved to the side of the road, and stopped the car.

Whatever a "pit stop" was, it was clear to the men, if not their passenger.

"Jonathan, could you accompany me?" Shawukay asked him.

"Why?" Jonathan looked surprised. "Isn't that a private thing?"

"Perhaps, but you have my weapons in your 'trunk.'" she answered.

"I understand. Let's go."

As the two of them walked into the darkness, Shawukay walked about a hundred yards before whirling on Jonathan.

"All right, I want some answers from you." she stated angrily.

"Such as?" Jonathan asked.

"What are you, 'Jonathan,' if that IS your true identity?"

Jonathan was apparently unprepared for her question. "How did you figure it out?"

Shawukay pointed to her glowing eyes. "It is called infravision. An elven trait. It allows me to see objects in the dark by the heat they give off. Body heat, for example. Mark's body heat. But not yours."

Shawukay raised her hand, cutting off any reply.

"Listen, I know you are not undead. They give off a bluish color, from a lack of body heat. But not you. You do not generate anything. You are dark, like a shadow, a silhouette. Now, tell me. WHAT are you?"

Jonathan sighed. "I'm an angel."

"An angel. A servant of the Gods. Perfect goodness. That kind of angel?" Shawukay's face was unreadable, but she folded her arms across her chest, clearly indicating that she was not prepared to believe his claim.

"Yes. An angel. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes, now prove it." she said sharply, her face now having a look of challenge to it, as she raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, watch this." Jonathan said, grinning at her, which only made her glare more heavily. Jonathan's body disappeared, and became a bright golden glow, and Shawukay's mouth formed an 'O' of amazement.

Jonathan formed his body back, and looked at her. "Now do you believe me, Shawukay?"

She looked down at the ground. "I felt it, Jonathan."

"Felt what?"

"A being such as yourself cannot hide the... essence of good that is at your center. I studied such things on my world. Why are you here, and not at the side of your God?" she asked quietly. "Does your friend know?"

"I walk the Earth, as do a few others like me. We go around and help people. My 'assignments,' as Mark calls them." he said tenderly. "And yes, he knows. He's been my partner for the last ten years."

Shawukay looked up at him again, uncertainty on her face. "What is your assignment concerning me?"

"To give you instruction on Earth, its history, its peoples, among other things. Also, to take you to others who will help train you for whatever
purpose you have here."

"Why did you not inform me of this earlier?" Shawukay asked, the anger at his keeping this information a secret showing in her eyes.

"Would you have believed me?" It wasn't a question.

"Jonathan, angels I can believe in. Goblins, vampires, werewolves, I can believe in." She pointed back at Mark's car. "It's monsters like that thing that I have trouble accepting."

Jonathan laughed a bit at her comment. "What about dragons?"

"Seen, yes. Fought, no. I may be somewhat reckless. I am not suicidal."

Jonathan laughed. "Anything else?"

"Yes." she said. "A 'pit stop,' as you called it, then I need some sleep."

"Of course." Jonathan said. As Shawukay went a bit further into the darkness, he called to her. "Hey, Shawukay. Is this better?"

Shawukay turned around, and saw that he now appeared as a human to her night vision. "Much better."

*****

After finishing, Shawukay and Jonathan walked back to the car. With her questions answered, Shawukay finally let down her guard, and within a half hour the exhaustion of several days' exertion finally claimed the half-elf.

Mark looked at her sleeping in the back seat. "So what took so long?"

Jonathan smiled. "Angel stuff."

Mark almost drove off of the road.

"You TOLD her!?!"

Jonathan laughed. "Mark, she figured it out herself, with those glowing eyes you're so afraid of."

Mark looked at his partner. "How?"

"Apparently, it's an elven trait. In the dark, she can see by way of the heat emanating from different objects, like people."

"Like infrared?"

"Sort of. She calls it infravision."

"But she believed you. About 'the Boss' and 'the Stuff?'"

"Mark, she's half ELF. She's fought goblins, vampires, and other assorted 'legends.' She's not even from this world."

Mark stared. "Then she IS an alien?"

"I don't think so. She comes from another plane. That's her term, not mine."

"You lost me, Jonathan."

"Think alternate universe."

"Ah." Mark said, as if that explained it all. Which it did. "So, why is she here?"

"I don't know. She doesn't know. Something about 'saving a world.'"

"What? She can't be over twenty-five!"

Jonathan gave Mark a sidelong glance.

"What? I know that look, Jonathan." Mark said testily.

"She's fifty-three, give or take a few months."

Mark almost drove off the road again.

"But...but..."

"Mark, according to her, a half-elf, that's what she calls herself, lives about two hundred fifty years. But in a way you are right, at a human equivalent she's about eighteen to twenty." Jonathan shrugged. "Her mission? I don't know. Our assignment is to teach her."

"Teach her?"

"History, people, particularly language. Others will help, later on, but we'll be handling the majority."

"What could I possibly teach her?" Mark asked.

"Well," Jonathan quipped, "she wanted to know the connection between elves and Santa Claus."

Mark stared daggers at Jonathan as he tried, but failed, to keep from laughing.

*****

Denver, Colorado
16 May 1998

As Mark drove into Denver, Jonathan and Shawukay were discussing some of Earth's religions. Shawukay was becoming more confused by the second.

"Jonathan, let me see if I understand. The Catholics and Protestants, as they are called, have been fighting with each other for years."

Jonathan nodded. "Yes."

"Another group, the Jewish, have their own nation, other religious groups say their way is the best, that all the others are wrong."

"Yes, to some extent."

"Then the people of this world are stupid," Shawukay decided.

"I beg your pardon?"

"They are stupid. At least in matters of religion, although I hold out little hope for their modes of transportation, either."

"Don't change the subject." Jonathan said. "Explain your conclusion, with a reason for your hypothesis."

"All right." Shawukay paused, as if organizing her thoughts. "On my world, there are several gods. Each has a separate 'portfolio,' areas of influence. If you know what you want in life, there is an appropriate deity. This world, you have multiple religions that say basically the same thing, have the same message, if you will. The have the same goal for an afterlife, and they worship the same God. All the while, they fight over words, and denounce each other while serving the same deity."

"Perhaps the methods are not perfect, Shawukay, but the people are not idiots. There are many influences on a person's beliefs: parents, wealth, experiences, friends and so forth. But that doesn't make them incompetent."

"Then tell me, Jonathan, which religion is the correct one?"

"All of them, as long as the people follow what they believe."

"All the while arguing over which is the best."

"Like I said, it isn't perfect."

"But very confusing." Shawukay ended that conversation.

"Okay, enough of that." Jonathan turned back to the front. "Next lesson, getting you some proper clothing."

"I do not need clothing." Shawukay answered. "What I am wearing will do."

"No, Shawukay, it will not."

"Why is that?"

"One: It's covered in desert sand. Two: It's ripped to shreds. Three: Earth people haven't worn such clothing for over a century."

Shawukay looked at her self, truly noticing the mess for the first time. "Very well. But only something within reason."

"Agreed." Jonathan turned to Mark. "Mark, find us a store."

"What kind?"

"Preferably a department store."

"What? She's not even here a week and she wants to go shopping?"

"Actually, Mark," Jonathan started grinning, "she seems to be absolutely set against it, but she needs something a little more 'human' looking."

Shawukay glared at Jonathan. "Why do I get the feeling that I will not enjoy this?"

*****

Denver, Colorado
16 May 1998

Shawukay stared at what Earth women considered proper swimming attire. "This is what the women of this world wear for swimming."

Jonathan nodded. "More or less."

"How can you say 'more or less'? There could not possibly be less!"

"You might be surprised."

Shawukay looked nauseous. "Jonathan, that is disgusting."

"Enough of that. Now, listen to me. Don't talk, and let the clerk or I help you. You can understand her, thanks to that headband of yours, but they don't teach Elven 101 in schools here."

"El-VISH." she corrected him.

Jonathan cut her off. "Don't interrupt me. You will need a few outfits, some for working, some for exercise, whatever you do to keep in shape, maybe a dress or two."

Shawukay frowned. "Dresses are not good for woodland fighting. It is too easy to snag, and cause one to fall."

Jonathan groaned. "That is NOT why we are here!"

Mark interrupted. "Let me try, Jonathan. Shaw, what did you do where you come from?"

"First, do not call me 'Shaw.' Use my name properly. Second, I am a ranger."

Jonathan translated, and Mark asked her what a ranger did.

"Wilderness warrior. A combination of warrior, scout, tracker, hunter."

After a second translation, Mark said, "So when you hunt, you just walk up and chop something's head off with your sword?"

"Of course not!" Shawukay blurted. "It takes years to learn the craft. How to track, how to use cover. How to blend in with your surroundings..." she stopped as her mouth snapped shut with an audible clack.

She glared at Mark, and then Jonathan, and walked towards the clothing. Jonathan got up to follow her.

"What happened?" Mark asked.

Jonathan laughed. "Simple. Once she reached the part about using cover and blending in with surroundings, the light went off in her head, and she got the point."

"I don't know about this, Jonathan. I mean, she's hot-headed, stubborn, confrontational.."

"Like a certain ex-cop whose name I won't mention."

Mark stopped in mid-speech. "Now wait a minute."

"Seriously, Mark, you two have been butting heads since you called her an 'it.'"

"So why did she give up there?"

"Because she was outmaneuvered, and realized it. She won't be that easy on you later."

"So we won the first period?"

"More like the first round."

*****

Jonathan steered her over to the men's department. He explained the advantages of larger shirts, which were similar to the tunics she was used to. He helped her pick out two with long sleeves, for her forearm sheaths, as well as several others. She didn't seem to have a problem with blue jeans, which she had noticed were a very common item on the humans she'd seen thus far. Jonathan was thinking that he might actually have an easy time until he took her to the lingerie department.

As soon as Shawukay saw the bras and panties, she turned around, an angry look directed at Jonathan. "I do not think so, Jonathan. I will not wear what these Earth women wear for swimming."

Jonathan sighed. "Shawukay, this is different."

"Only because there is slightly more fabric?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, because.." he began to explain, but stopped. "Shawukay, do you know what telepathy is?"

Shawukay nodded, "Yes, why?"

"I want to use some on you, to learn your language. It will not look right, if I'm explaining this to a female," he said, looking in her eyes for a response.

She looked very reluctant, but nodded. "Yes. But only language, and only the Common tongue. There are things, memories, which you will not explore. Those are my terms."

"You have my word." he said, a short but noticeable distant look in his eyes. After a few seconds, he nodded, and said, "How's this? It will sound like we're discussing things in your native tongue."

Shawukay's eyes rose a bit. "How can you do this without any accent?"

"Angel stuff," he said mysteriously, a grin forming.

"I am not amused, Jonathan. Now tell me why these are acceptable." she demanded.

"They're not bikinis, they're undergarments," he said.

"Like rich merchant's daughters wear?" she asked, looking dubious. "I have never seen anything that.. bare, for lack of a better term."

"They offer support, and are considered normal among Earth women."

"I am not an Earth woman, nor am I a rich merchant's daughter," she pointed out.

"It's part of blending in, Shawukay." Jonathan said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger.

Shawukay looked at the undergarments, and back to Jonathan. "How am I supposed to know which I am to use?"

Jonathan looked at her for several seconds, and then nodded. He looked to make sure no one was watching them, and quickly moved to grab several items off of the racks. He came back over to her, a blush forming.

"These are your size. Trust me."

Shawukay was red also, but with a trace of anger. "I cannot believe that you, a servant of your God, just did that."

"Well, how else would we learn your size?" Jonathan asked. "And it was bad enough as it is."

Shawukay didn't look convinced. "I will accept your word, this time, Jonathan."

"Now, something else about Earth women," he said, motioning for her to follow. He led her over to a shelf, and pointed out a package of some sort. "These are called maxi pads. You'll need these, if you live here."

Shawukay looked at the picture on the package. "What is their purpose?"

Jonathan sighed. "Can I use a little more telepathy on you?"

Shaw looked extremely doubtful, but nodded. "Make it brief."

After a few seconds, Shaw nodded in understanding. "All you had to do was say so, Jonathan. I understand the purpose of such a thing."

"I was afraid you'd hit me," Jonathan muttered.

"I see," she muttered as she picked up a package and started to walk off.

"Shawukay, we want hit one more location before we leave." Jonathan called.

Shawukay groaned. "What do you want to force me into now?"

"Gear."

Shawukay looked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"An Earth-style backpack. A watch, or something to tell time with. A pair of sunglasses, as well as socks, among other things."

"Can you explain these, without offending me?" she said, a defiant expression on her face.

"Very easily. Backpack, to carry items in, we can get one with many pockets, to hold all of your equipment so that you don't have to carry it all the time. A timepiece, so that you can tell what time of day or night it is. Sunglasses, to protect your eyes from the sunlight, and to hide that glowing effect at night. Socks, they go on under your boots, to provide extra protection. Is that enough for you?" Jonathan finished, with a sharp breath of air.

Shawukay nodded. "I can see your point on those quite easily. In fact I approve of your arguments on these items. Thank you, Jonathan. I have not considered these things. In fact, all I have considered is 'where in the Nine Hells am I?'"

Jonathan made a face at the mention of "Hells." "Please don't say the 'H' word again," he said, a quirky grin coming to his face.

Shawukay looked at him with a funny look of confusion, and then paled, as she understood his phrasing. "Oh, Jonathan, forgive me. I did not mean.."

"You really need to work on a sense of humor," Jonathan muttered, drawing another look of confusion from her. He explained, "That was a joke, an expression."

"Oh. I see," she said, and turned around. "Is that all we will need?"

Jonathan sighed again. "For now."

Jonathan and Shawukay climbed into the car, and Mark looked at the large amount of items they had purchased. Shawukay still looked somewhat less than pleased with the experience.

"So, how did it go?" Mark asked, a grin on his face.

"Better than I had hoped," Jonathan admitted.

Shawukay followed their conversation, looking at each man as they spoke.

"How did you get her to get certain items?" Mark inquired, beginning to laugh. "And how did you do it without getting slaughtered?"

"Reverse psychology. Shawukay prefers function over fashion, so I explained them in those terms." Jonathan said, grinning at Shawukay rather than Mark.

"And you're still alive, or whatever passes for it?"

Shawukay jumped in at that point. "Jonathan, that remark that Mark made about my being stubborn?"

Mark jumped a bit at the sound of his name, and turned around to look at her.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Please tell him that he has not seen anything yet." she said, a grin on her face.

Jonathan did so, and Mark gulped as he started the car.

*****

St. Louis, Missouri
20 June 1998

As Jonathan checked in at the hotel clerk's desk, Mark and Shawukay brought their luggage into their room.

It had been a busy month, with the two men teaching Shawukay about Earth, history, customs, and the English language. Jonathan and Shawukay had a long argument over whether or not to let her keep wearing her headband, which magically translated anything the half-elf heard while wearing it. The two finally reached a compromise; Shawukay would wear it while teaching was going on, but in normal conversation she would have to talk in English, not using any magical aid to understand what other people said.

At the same time, Shawukay had helped a bit with anything that came up, such as assignments that the Boss might hand down. The aid she could provide at this stage was limited, but she was apparently more than willing to do what she could.

Mark threw his suitcase on one bed, while Shawukay carefully set her pack and the cloth sack carrying her sword on the other. Mark looked over at the half-elf. She still looked uncomfortable, unused to not having the familiar weight of her sword at her hip, or dagger sheaths on her forearms. Currently, she wore a pair of blue jeans, as well as a white t-shirt under a Levi vest. However, she had refused to give up her calf-high boots. Oddly enough, they didn't look out of place, giving her a "Western" look. Absently, she put her hand up to her hair, still not comfortable with wearing her hair with clips in a way that concealed the tips of her ears.

Mark could sympathize with her discomfort, to a point.

"Shaw, are you all right?" he asked using the nickname he'd given her.

"Mark, please..." she replied, still hesitant using the English. "I am.. all right. I..request? Yes, I request that you not call me that."

"Shawukay," Mark said, not wanting to antagonize her, "it's an alias, to help keep people from figuring out, well, you know.." He reached up, mimicking points to his ears.

"I do not compre-- I do not understand."

"'Shaw' is not a common name, but it does exist here on Earth. Shawukay, however, is a real long shot."

"Long shot?" Mark had slipped one by her.

Jonathan walked in. "It means very unlikely, nearly impossible."

Shawukay cursed under her breath in Common and Elvish. Mark look at Jonathan, who winced, since he could understand her.

"Do I want to know?" Mark asked rhetorically.

"Not really." Jonathan kept his eyes on his student. "Shawukay, think of it as.. a 'use' name, to keep your true identity a secret, perhaps."

Shawukay looked deep in thought, and then glared at Jonathan. "Fine. 'Shaw,' but only outside, in...public. In private, use my...proper name." She turned and stormed into the bathroom.

It was a minor concession, but more than Jonathan had expected.

Mark looked at Jonathan. "So who won that round, you or her?"

"More of a draw, really. It's hard for her, not using magic to understand. She's coming along, but.."

"What is it, Jonathan?"

"I've got to take her to see someone, but I'm afraid it will cause her problems, she'll be receiving training in swordplay."

"Swordplay?"

"Connor MacLeod."

"Oh, that type of swordplay." Then Mark's eyebrows rose. "Shaw and Connor? Oh boy, the sparks are going to fly."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow. He's in Paris visiting Duncan. We'll be gone about four weeks."

"Flying?" Mark looked worried.

"Yes, why? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, I just don't envy you sitting next to her on an airplane after seeing her initial reaction to automobiles." Mark grinned.

"Yeah, but the plane won't try to run her over."

Mark's grin died a quick, silent death. "That's not fair, Jonathan."

"Hey, Mark, she forgave you. Trusting your driving skills, that's another matter."

Shawukay walked out of the bathroom, and looked at both men.

"May I.. inquire as to what you were talking about?" she asked.

"You and I are going to Paris tomorrow." Jonathan informed her.

"Paris? City, in.. France." Shawukay's eyes grew distant as she concentrated. "I... assume that this is more history training, yes? Jonathan, you know that I am not, how do you say, comfortable in cities." It seemed a serious admission for her.

"No history, we're going to meet some friends of mine." Jonathan answered.

"And how do we cross this, ocean, the... Atlantic?" she asked, not only about traveling, but if she had gotten the name right.

"By airplane. A large vehicle, with wings, like a bird, that flies at great speed."

"Just you and I?" She looked at Mark.

"You two are on your own," Mark told her.

"Good. You drive like I talk English," She said purposely butchering the sentence.

Jonathan threatened to burst out laughing.

"How did you know what we were talking about from in there?" Mark exclaimed, indicating the bathroom.

Shawukay pointed her index finger along her right ear.

"Unique facial features."

As Jonathan laughed, Mark muttered, "Did the Boss tell you to teach her your sense of humor?"

*****

After dinner, Jonathan went out for a walk. When he returned, he saw that Shawukay's bed hadn't been slept in. He looked up, then nodded his head. He ran out the door.

A half-mile later, he spotted her, standing in the shadows of an alley, watching six men staring at two teenage girls.

As the girls entered a park, the men started after them. Shawukay followed them.

<What is she doing?> He thought as he followed her.

Jonathan watched as the men surrounded the two girls. As they came closer, the women's' faces began to change. Ridges grew on their foreheads, and their eyes started glowing.

As the men started to run off, the vampires grabbed one of the men.

One vampire pinned the man's arms behind his back, while the other approached from the front, preparing to feed.

A savage cry split the night air.

The vampire not holding their captive looked behind her, to see a cloaked figure standing before her holding a sword in a two-handed grip. White flames danced along the blade, but most unnerving of all where the two glowing red eyes inside the hood of the cloak.

"Let him go, now." the figure said in a strange accent.

"Sister, hold our meal while I deal with this... uninvited guest."

The vampire charged the sword wielder. As she neared her target, the figure dodged and threw a wicked two-handed slash into her back. A bright white flame surrounded the wound, and the vampire screeched in pain.

The warrior then turned around and plunged her sword into the vampire's back. She was enveloped in white light, before disintegrating with a bright flash.

The cloaked woman turned back to the second vampire.

"Let him go, or you die."

"If I let him go, you'll turn that sword on me. This pathetic man and his friends are muggers. They beat and rob people. Tonight, we drew them into a trap."

The woman turned her glowing eyes onto the man being held in the vampire's grip.

"Is this true?"

The man nodded, figuring that telling a lie would shorten his life expectancy.

The woman with the hood stood still, talking under her breath.

"Well, what is your decision?" the vampire asked, growing impatient.

Suddenly, a rush of wind blew up behind the vampire's back. When she turned, she saw a small tornado that quickly surrounded her, allowing the man to break free.

He stood there, looking stupidly at the vampire woman fighting a windstorm. A shout brought him back to reality.

"GET DOWN!"

He dropped to the ground just as a pair of daggers whirled through the spot he had occupied. The twin knives flashed end over end into the vampire's back, but didn't appear to do any harm.

The vampire turned and looked at the hooded figure.

"You are dead, human." she promised.

"Who said I was human?" the figure replied.

The vampire charged the warrior, arriving before the sword could be brought into play, and delivered a two-handed blow to the woman. The woman staggered back, than stood straight up, a cold rage building in her eyes.

The vampire charged again, but this time the warrior was ready. She kneeled, and threw a strike that nearly severed the vampire's leg at the knee. The vampire crumpled to the ground, but before she could recover, the warrior threw a second blow that took the vampire's head from her body. The vampire crumpled into dust.

The man just sat at the ground, and watched while the person who had just saved his life walked over and stood over him.

"Give me one reason to let you live." she told him.

The man stammered, but couldn't bring himself to answer.

"You have five seconds."

"I don't think so." another voice said from behind him.

He turned to see a man in his early forties, wearing a brown leather jacket, blue jeans and boots. He had brown hair, and was looking none too pleased.

"Jonathan, do not interfere." the hooded figure snarled.

"Start thinking rationally, and I might consider it. But you're ready to kill this man, just after you saved his life."

The hooded figure considered that, and then slowly knelt down over the man sitting on the ground.

"Who, what are you?" he asked.

"That man over there, he is an angel. One of God's servants. He has won you another chance. Do not waste it. If you even think of ever violating another law, I will come for you. Remember the Hunter."

The man took off running as if his life depended on it.

Jonathan looked at the figure. "Shawukay, what in God's name are you doing out here?"

"What I am supposed to do. What I am... required to do."

"Saving people's lives, then killing them?"

Shawukay dropped her hood. "What do you want me to say, Jonathan? You know what I am. I have to fight people like that!"

"Like who, Shawukay, the vampires you killed or the man whose life you saved, and were prepared to kill seconds later?"

"They are evil, Mark! I am supposed to stop that." Shawukay changed tactics. "Did you hear what the vampire said about the man we saved?"

Jonathan nodded.

"He is a... criminal. He beats others for amusement! What kind of world is this that if I stop one evil, it only frees another to continue his?"

"It's your world now, for whatever reason you were brought here. Everything here isn't in black and white."

"It is NOT my world, Jonathan! Everything is... different! Everything is confusing! And I am afraid!"

"Afraid of what?"

"Of where I am going."

Jonathan grabbed her. "That's not an answer."

Shawukay tore himself out of his grasp.

"Answers. You want answers? Very well, here it is, everything there is to know about me!"

"On my world, I fought evil. You know that much. But what you do not know is that I dedicated myself to it! No matter what kind of evil it was, I fought it, to protect those who could not fight it."

Shawukay turned away, throwing her sword to the ground. She stopped using English, so that she could deliver the facts without any misinterpretation.

"Then, one day, I encountered the vampire that killed my grandparents. And I made the only selfish decision I ever made. I chose vengeance over what was better for others. We fought. We both survived. He was badly wounded, but I was drained of over half my life force. My life force, Jonathan! That is how the vampires of MY world feed. By drawing out the very energy that keeps you alive! It was almost a year before I recovered enough to go after him again. I couldn't see anything but killing that horror, for what he did to me, and to my grandparents. I found him, and again he escaped. Somehow, I was transported to another realm. A horrifying place FULL of vampires, werewolves, and other evil things. Think about it Jonathan. The creatures of the night of your world's legends. Imagine being in a place where they are reality. Bloody, dangerous reality, every day! I spent thirteen years there! Doing nothing but stalking walking corpses out of hatred, no matter what neglecting my duties cost others, no matter what it cost me! Until one night, I finally had one burst of sanity, of clarity, and I took a step on a path back to where I had been. And now, I am here, on this world. Once again, I am on a world I know nothing about. Look at what happened tonight. I swore not to hunt out of anger again, yet I fall back into it. I am scared Jonathan, for I have been full of hate for so long, I do not know my true self anymore."

"A lot of people don't know who they are. It seems to me that you are still willing to fight the good fight, you just got lost along the way."

Shawukay turned back to Jonathan, tears streaking down her face. "What do you mean?"

Jonathan looked straight at her. "For whatever reason, you are here for an important mission. I don't know what it is, but for some reason God selected you."

"But I do not serve your God! Why should he choose me?"

"Perhaps because you look at the consequences of your actions, or try to limit the damage to noncombatants."

"Jonathan, you are not listening. I spent almost a quarter of my life in that hell. My soul isn't clean enough to save a world!"

"No, perhaps it isn't clean." Jonathan shrugged. "My soul isn't perfect, but look at me."

Shawukay just shook her head. "I cannot do this alone, Jonathan."

"That's a lesson you haven't learned yet. You aren't alone. You have friends now. When you realize that, perhaps you can find some of the answers you are looking for."

"Friends? I have not had true friends for a long time, Jonathan."

"I'm your friend, Shaw. So is Mark, if you would be willing to admit it to yourself." Jonathan grinned.

Shawukay's eyes rose a bit as his point got across, and she looked embarrassed. "Thank you. Perhaps you are right. I do not understand a lot of things."

"When you are questioning yourself, it doesn't help. But we can discuss this another time. We have a plane to catch later."

Shawukay picked up her sword, and then looked at Jonathan. "Jonathan, do you truly consider me a friend? Not just an assignment?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." Shawukay switched to English. "But do me one, uhm, a favor?"

"Name it."

"I might admit to myself that Mark is a friend. Do I have to admit it to him?"

Jonathan hugged his pupil. "It'll be our little secret."

"Good. It is hard enough to... tolerate him as it is." she said, a grin coming to her lips.

*****

When the angel and the half-elf returned to their hotel room, Mark was standing in the doorway, angry because he was up at two in the morning.

"Where in God's name have you been? It's two in the morning!"

As Shawukay walked by him, she muttered two words.

"North pole."

Jonathan's growing laughter was the last thing she heard before she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

*****

Part 3: Manhunt

"The guy is fish food!"
"Then fetch a cane pole and catch me the fish that ate him."
---Sam Gerard
"The Fugitive"

The Bronx
New York City, New York
22 June 1998

Jack Carlton walked out of the bar, and started down the sidewalk to where his Harley was parked. Keeping an eye out for any suspicious looking characters, he walked, fumbling through his pockets for the keys to the bike.

At six-feet-five, and weighing closer to three hundred pounds than two, the biker cut an imposing figure. The scar along his left jawbone simply added to intimidation factor.

As he reached the motorcycle, a cat yowled in the alley behind him. Jack quickly turned towards the alley, his left hand reaching for the knife he kept hidden underneath his blue-jean jacket. Eyes scanning the alley, Jack didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

<Damn jumpy tonight, ain't ya!> he told himself. <No one else out here at three a.m.>

As Jack sat down on the bike, a figure exited the alley and ran at a full sprint towards the Harley. Just as Jack inserted the keys into the ignition, he was roughly hauled off of the bike, and onto the concrete.

Jack rolled, then rose to his feet with an agility that belied his size. Quickly pulling his knife out, he prepared to defend himself. He saw a young man in front of him, mid twenties, short brown hair and a leather jacket.

"You picked the wrong biker to mess with buster," Jack threatened. "I'll give you one chance to say yer sorry and walk away."

"I don't think that's going to happen, friend." the stranger said with a spreading grin.

Jack started moving forward, but before he could bring his knife up, the stranger ran up and grabbed Jack's throat in a superhumanly strong grip, lifting him off the ground with one free hand.

Jack managed to bring the knife up, and drove it into the attacker's forearm, lodging it between the two bones.

The stranger didn't react at all.

Calmly, the man moved his other arm, and pulled the knife out.

"Nice knife. You certainly know how to use it." the stranger cocked his head to one side. "I think I can use you."

"Who... are you?" Jack croaked, despite the pressure on his throat.

"You can call me Angelus." the stranger replied, as his eyes started glowing.

*****

La Guardia Airport
New York City, New York
22 June 1998

"All right, Mr. Smith, your flight to Paris leaves at 1:30 p.m." The clerk handed Jonathan two boarding passes. "You and your niece will be in row nine, seats A and B."

"Thank you, Miss. Come on, Shaw." Jonathan said to the woman standing next to him. He turned and they headed for a concession area.

Shawukay and Jonathan walked over to a table and sat down. The angel turned to her.

"So, do you want anything to eat before we take off?" he asked.

"No." she snapped. "I want nothing to do with food." She laid her head in her hands and moaned.

Jonathan smiled. "Oh, come on. The flight wasn't THAT terrible, was it."

"No, 'uncle.' The flight was... pleasant. It was the... takeoff and landing that were, as you say, terrible." she explained.

"Huh?" Now Jonathan was confused.

"Takeoff. Landing. Hurt my head."

"What are you talking about? I've flown before."

Shawukay sighed. "YOU are human. Or you were. Or... you know what I mean."

"Explain it to me." he told her. "Slowly, so that I can keep track."

"Ears. Noise. Too loud." she mumbled.

Now he understood. "I see. So, certain facial features aren't always an advantage?"

"You may... repeat that many times."

"You can say that again." Jonathan said the correct phrase.

"I do not wish to."

Jonathan laughed to himself.

"Okay, no food. How about getting something to read on the flight?"

Shawukay considered that. "Perhaps." She looked to Jonathan. "My headband?"

"For what?"

"To read."

"You can read, can't you?" he asked, not believing it.

"Of course I can. But..." she hesitated.

"Spill it, Shaw." he told her.

Shawukay's eyes rose. "I am not drinking anything."

Jonathan forgot she didn't understand slang.

"About reading. You can read.."

"Common. Elvish. Kartakan. Some Thayvian. A little Sithican..."

"All right! I get the point. Yes, you can wear it." he said.

"Thank you." Shawukay cocked an eyebrow. "My round?"

Jonathan sighed. "Mark was right. You are learning my sense of humor."

"So where are tomes?" Shawukay asked him.

"Tomes?"

"Yes. Tomes... for reading?" she clarified.

"Books. They are called books here. And they're located in there," he told her, pointing to a gift shop. "Here's twenty dollars. Get something appropriate."

"Of course." the half-elf took the money and walked off.

Jonathan looked and saw a New York Times that someone had left behind and glanced at the headlines.

VAMPIRE CULT MURDERS CONTINUE IN L.A.

<Uh oh.> he thought. <Better not let her see this.>

He folded up the paper and put it on another table, and sat back down.

After ten minutes, the half-elf came back, wearing the headband and carrying a paperback book. Running behind her was the cashier from the gift store.

<What now?> Jonathan thought, getting up.

"Miss? Miss!" the kid yelled. "Hey, Lady!"

Shawukay turned around. "Yes? What do you want?"

Jonathan walked up. "Is there a problem?"

The kid looked at Jonathan. "Well, sir, she walked into the bookstore, and went over to the bookrack. She looked, picked out a book, and walked out of the store."

Jonathan turned to Shawukay. "Did you steal that book, Shaw?"

"No, Uncle Jonathan, I did not." she answered, clearly angry at the accusation.

"But he said.." he began.

"Uh, sir? She didn't steal the book. She laid a twenty on the counter as she walked by, but she kept going."

"Of course. I paid a fair price for it."

"But you forgot your change."

Shawukay looked confused. "Change? Into what?"

Jonathan intervened. "Sorry, kid. She's from... Scotland. She hasn't used dollars before."

"Oh. I know what you mean. They use pounds, right?" he asked, handing the money over to Jonathan.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, shaking his head and chuckling. "Here, take a five for the trouble."

"Hey, thanks." the kid went back to the shop.

Shawukay had a confused look on her face. "Jonathan, what does my weight have to do with buying books?"

Jonathan sighed. "Later."

*****

15th Precinct
New York Police Department
22 June 1998

Bobby Simone and his partner, Andy Sipowicz, walked to their desks. Both detectives sat down, and went over the notes for the new case that they were working on.

Unlike most of their cases, this was a missing persons case. Some biker hadn't arrived home this morning, and his fianc�e had called the police. Sipowicz figured he'd ended up in the drunk tank, until the biker's motorcycle was found, with the keys in the ignition, and a pool of blood nearby. The strange part was, no body was at the scene.

"So, what do you think, Andy?" Bobby asked.

"I dunno, Bobby," Andy said, pulling out his reading glasses and putting them on. "He left about three a.m., alone. What I can't figure, is this guy stands six foot five, and he's built like an ox. What could take this guy out?"

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, Andy. It doesn't make much sense."

"Unless the perp had a gun. That would certainly negate a size advantage."

At that point, Lieutenant Fancy stuck his head out of his office.

"Simone. Sipowicz."

"Great. His Royal Highness calls." Andy muttered.

As they walked into the El-Tee's office, they noticed he wasn't alone. Sitting in a chair was a woman in her late twenties. Hispanic, with long black hair, she wore a red jacket over a black shirt and jeans.

Fancy introduced her. "Bobby, Andy, this is Detective Maza, with the 23rd. Maza, Bobby Simone, Andy Sipowicz."

The three detectives shook hands, then Bobby asked, "What can we do for you, Detective?"

"I'm here about the Jack Carlton case. I understand he turned up missing, no body, vehicle left in the open?"

Andy moved closer to her. "Yeah, that's right. You find a body?"

"No, we've had six similar missing persons cases in the last two weeks. Four were large men, like Carlton."

"And the others?" Bobby asked.

"One was a male Caucasian, medium build. The other was a black woman."

"So other than the last two, you have a pattern?" Sipowicz inquired.

"Actually, the last man was a former Army Drill Sergeant. The woman has a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do." Maza replied.

"So instead of size, they had skill." Bobby said.

"Right, We're wondering if someone's hunting people."

Bobby flipped through his notes. "Carlton has been known to carry some type of Bowie knife. According to rumors, he knew how to use it."

Fancy cut in. "It's a possibility that's the hunting grounds are moving."

"Or expanding." Maza added.

"Great. Some wacko's hunting big macho victims, and now he's branching out." Sipowicz cursed.

"I'm proposing that we work together. No jurisdiction, no rivalries. We've got to get this guy off the street."

"Yeah, let's do it." Andy said. "This freak needs to be taken down."

"Good, I'll bring my files down in the morning." Maza told them.

"We might want to check other precincts," Bobby stated. "See if there's any similar cases we don't know about."

"I'll take care of it tomorrow." Maza said. "Let's find this jerk."

*****

"I'll take care of it tomorrow. Let's find this jerk."

The listening device was working well. It allowed him to hear everything.

<So, someone's out hunting. Taking out civilians for sport.>

The listener stood, and picked up a shirt. The shirt was Kevlar weave, which would allow him some protection against small arms fire. He put it on, and saw his reflection in a mirror.

Looking at the shirt, and looked at the skull on the front.

Walking over to the table next to the radio, he checked his weapons.

He selected an Uzi, equipped with tracer rounds that would allow him to hit targets in the darkness with greater accuracy. An M16A2, state-of-the-art, standard military issue, capable of hitting a target at 550 meters. A Para Ordnance .45, with spare magazines. Two flash grenades, to blind targets, and finally, a Marine-issue Ka-Bar survival knife.

Prepared, Frank Castle left the room to search out his prey.

The Punisher was going to war.

*****

23rd Precinct
New York Police Department
New York City, New York
22 June 1998

Elisa walked up the steps to the clock tower. She heard a rough barking sound, and smiled when Bronx ran up to greet her. She patted him on the head.

"Hey, boy. Where are the others?"

Someone came out of the shadows. A large gargoyle, with gray skin and large wings. It was Goliath, the leader of the clan. He inclined his head to Elisa.

"Hello, Elisa. What brings you here?" he asked her.

"A new case I'm working on." she said. "Someone is hunting people, like a safari. It's got the department baffled."

"What do you mean by hunting?" Goliath asked.

"Someone's attacking large, muscular humans, with only two exceptions. Those two were normal size, but they had experience in fighting."

"I see. Like a predator hunting other predators." he mused.

Elisa nodded. "Exactly. I'd just like you to keep an eye out on patrol. But be careful."

"Of course. I'll inform the others." he promised.

"Thanks. I have to go. I'm working with detectives from another precinct, and I'm going to have a long day tomorrow. Good night." she said as she left.

"Good night, Elisa." he answered, then turned to talk to the rest of the clan.

*****

Apartment, Unknown Location
New York City, New York
23 June 1998

Angelus looked over at Spike. "So what do you think?"

"I think you're assembling a bloody football team, mate." Spike smirked.

"Yeah, right." he grinned. "A deadly football team."

"The question is, why?" Spike asked.

"To go after the Slayer and her new friend." Angelus answered.

Spike's jaw dropped. "What in the...?!? ARE YE BLOODY DAFT!"

"Quite the opposite actually." he said. "Think about it. They slaughtered us the last time out because they had fighters, right?"

"That, mate, is an understatement."

"Whatever. Imagine if we return to Sunnydale with a few 'recruits' with similar fighting skills."

"We will go soon. The stars here are not nice anymore." a new voice added.

Angelus and Spike turned to see Drusilla come out.

"What? You see something, luv?" he asked her.

"Yes, Spike. I see us being hunted. .by skulls and stones. They want to hurt us."

"Can you say that in English?" Angelus whined.

"We are being hunted, mate."

"By skulls and stones."

"I'm not the psychic one."

"I see a hunter. She wants to hurt us too. She will need us. To stop the pin man." Dru said to no one in particular.

"The Slayer." Spike said.

"No. Not the Slayer. The hunter. The fairy lady."

"This doesn't make any sense, Dru." Spike told her.

"Then I'll go play with Ms. Edith. She listens to me." she snapped, then walked out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Angelus asked his partner.

"How the hell should I know? I don't speak in riddles." Spike retorted. "What I do know is, according to her, we're going to have someone on our cases."

"We'll have to be careful. I'm going out to have a look. Don't let any of the new ones out." Angelus said.

"Great. We're being tracked and you want me to play babysitter."

"Just do it, Spike."

*****

TWA Flight 629
Enroute to Paris, France
23 June 1998

As flight 629 neared the Portuguese coastline, Jonathan noticed that his pupil was still nervous. Anyone who didn't know what to look for would have missed the slight narrowing of the eyes or the occasional making of a fist.

<She's really nervous. Can't blame her, I suppose.>

"Shaw, try to relax. It'll be over soon."

Shawukay didn't react. The half-elf sat with her eyes closed, with the small headphones that were attached to the seat inserted into her ears.

"Shaw?" he asked, then reached over and touched her arm.

She jumped like she had been jolted. Jonathan noticed that her first reaction was to reach for the sword that she was used to wearing at her hip, but wasn't there now. After a quick glance around, she relaxed a bit. She looked wickedly at her teacher.

"Jonathan, do not do that again." she hissed.

"Sorry." he told her. "I called your name twice, but you were off in la-la land."

"What?" she inquired. "La-la?"

"Oh. La-la land. A human term meaning distracted; your attention was elsewhere."

"I see. I am sorry. I was listening to some music. It was... relaxing."

"Who was singing?"

"Singing?" she repeated.

"Yes, who was singing?"

Realization hit her. "No one was singing. It was... instruments, many at once. What you call... classical."

"Really. Most kids, well, most young humans prefer more modern music."

"Yes, I have noticed that." she told him. "I do like what you call, easy listening."

"And classical?"

"Yes. It is... enjoyable." she replied. "But you wished to speak with me?" she asked, becoming all business.

"We'll be landing in a while. I was going to tell you to relax, but maybe I should have kept quiet."

At the mention of landing, she tensed up a bit more.

"It is all right." she lied. "It will allow me to... continue with the book I purchased."

Jonathan smiled as he remembered that mix-up. "I was wondering, what kind of book is it? I hope it was worth it after the trouble it caused."

"I believe it is a historical text." she answered.

The angel raised an eyebrow. "I thought this trip was supposed to be a break from history."

"Human history, yes." She smiled as she tapped the book. "This is elven history."

Now Jonathan did a double take. <Elven history?> "Uhm, Shaw, could I see that book for a minute?"

"Here you go." she said as she handed the book to him.

Jonathan took the book, and glanced at the title.

ELVEN BLADE MASTERS

Cassandra Hastings

He groaned to himself. "Shaw, I don't know how to tell you this..."

She looked at him. "What is it?"

"This book? By Cassandra Hastings?"

"Yes." she cut in. "I am... impressed with her skills as a sage... a historian."

"Here," he said, turning to the back cover. "Read this section, 'About the Author.'" He indicated the section.

Shawukay scanned the paragraph. "I see. Perhaps we can visit her when we return from Paris."

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"She lives in New York City." she told him.

"Read above that." he instructed her.

As she read, she began to blush as it dawned on her.

"This is a fantasy. A... fiction?"

"A story. A fable, if you will."

Shawukay closed her eyes and groaned as she leaned back, and Jonathan started laughing.

"I am... glad that I can serve as a source of amusement for you, Jonathan." she said acidly.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he regained control of himself. "I suppose, looking at it from your viewpoint, it was an honest mistake."

"I seem to make... numerous 'honest' mistakes." she said, starting to get a bit testy.

"Actually, you do better than you might think. This trip will do you good."

"Why?" She turned back to Jonathan. "Will you tell me now, what is... purpose?"

"You'll be receiving training in swordsmanship," he told her.

Shawukay looked dubious. "Swordsmanship?" Jonathan nodded. "Jonathan, I have had swords in my hands for over forty years."

"I know. And you're good..."

"Thank you." she said, grinning.

"But Connor's a master. He'll teach you, well..."

"Spill it, Jonathan."

Jonathan barked a laugh. "See, you are learning. To continue, Earth people have numerous fighting styles. Connor will teach you a couple of them, and how to counter styles that use weapons."

She considered this. "So he will teach me in the arts of this world? To help me, as you say, 'fit in?'"

"Exactly. Or, if you can combine what he teaches you with your own fighting arts..."

"It might catch opponents off guard. I see your point." she concluded. "So, what is this... Connor like?"

"He's serious. He'll expect you to devote yourself to your lessons." Jonathan told her. "However, he's also fair, with both praise and criticism."

"Jonathan, what is it you are... holding back? I know you fairly well, now." she pressed.

"You might say his sense of humor is... unique."

"Wait. You are saying that this... Connor's sense of humor is... unique? YOU are saying this?"

"Yes. Why do you say it like that?"

"Because I know you." she said, closing her eyes. "Suddenly, landing does not sound so bad. I think my... problems are just beginning."

*****

Times Square
New York City, New York
23 June 1998

<Ahh, the city that never sleeps.> Angelus thought. <Why did I ever leave here? Prime hunting grounds.>

Angelus walked down the street looking for a proper meal. He spotted a likely target: a woman, about thirty years of age, Italian by the looks of her. Five-eight, slender body. But what attracted Angelus was the way she looked around.

<Hah. I've seen that look. Cop eyes. Either she's out trolling for johns undercover, or...> he smiled. <The cops realize we're expanding.>

"Well, I might as well introduce myself." Angelus smiled as he walked towards her.

The woman noticed him walking up. "Yeah, whachu want, handsome?"

Angelus smiled. "Privacy, perhaps some fun?"

"Yeah, maybe. Half-hour, fifty bucks." she quoted.

<Plenty of time.> "Okay, let's go."

As the two of them rounded a corner, Angelus dragged the woman into an alley, and pushed her up against the wall.

"How about some dinner, first?" he said, showing his game face.

"I'm a cop, asshole!" she screamed. "Martinez, First Precinct!"

"Too bad. I'm in the mood for Italian."

"Get away from her, you punk."

At the sound of the new voice, Angelus turned toward the back end of the alley.

"Who in the hell are you?" Angelus asked with a cocky smile on his face.

The stranger walked into the light, which glinted off of a gun barrel. Both Angelus and Martinez faces registered shock.

"OH SHIT!!" Martinez screamed, ripping herself out of the vampire's grip, and hitting the pavement.

Angelus hesitated just long enough for the Uzi to open fire, pumping over a dozen bullets into his body. He screamed as he felt the fire of the bullets enter.

Staggering more from shock than pain, he took off running, encountering little resistance since the crowds had scattered at the sound of gunfire.

The gunman started forward, but the woman got up and pulled her gun.

"Freeze asshole! Drop the gun!" she shouted.

The gunman calmly looked over at her. "You're welcome."

"What?"

"In case you didn't notice, I just saved your life."

"You almost took my head off with that thing!" she shouted.

"If I had been aiming at you, you'd be dead now." he replied.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Frank Castle."

Martinez's eyes grew round. She dropped the gun.

"Get out of here. I'm going to regret this, but thanks."

"Tell Maza and her friends that I'll take care of their poacher problem."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You'll find out."

And the Punisher turned and left, leaving Martinez scratching her head.

*****

Spike jumped as Angelus bashed in the apartment door. A quick glance brought his jaw down.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?"

"Let's just say that I figured out the skull part of Dru's vision." he said disgustedly.

Spike started to grin. "And?"

"It was Frank Castle."

"And he would be?" Spike asked, unable to keep the humor out of his voice.

Angelus fixed him with an icy glare.

"The Punisher."

Spike's grin reversed itself. "Please tell me you're joking."

Angelus spread his arms, showing off his bullet-riddled jacket and t-shirt.

"He hit me with a blasted Uzi, Spike!"

"What the hell do we do now, mate?"

"Get a few more recruits, then head for sunny California."

"Oh bloody goody."

"Just a little more time, Spike. Then we leave."

*****

Part 4: Training

"When you can walk the length of the rice paper, and not leave a mark, then, you will be ready."
---Master Po
Kung Fu

Paris, France
23 June 1998

Shawukay and Jonathan walked along the river, looking for the barge that belonged to Connor's cousin Duncan, where they would be staying. The half-elf was badgering Jonathan with questions.

"How will my... training progress?" she asked.

"I don't know. I think he'll determine your level of skill with the sword, then go from there. For non-weapon styles, you'll start from scratch."

"Scratch?" she asked, then raised a hand. "Start from scratch. The beginning, is what you mean?"

"Very good. You got it right. While you're training, we'll continue your English. I hope to have you more proficient when we leave."

"Jonathan? About Connor?" she began.

"Yes, what about him?"

"Did you tell him about me?"

"Of course. He arranged this."

"No. I mean, how much did you tell him?" she said, pointing to the side of her head.

"I didn't tell him that. What I did tell him is that you're my student, and that you needed training. If you want him to know, it's your choice."

"And he agreed, having never met me?" she said, surprised.

"Yes, he's my friend. That was enough." he agreed.

"I wish I had friends like this," she said, and then stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at Jonathan. "Jonathan, I did not mean it that way, I..."

"I know." he laughed. "You really meant it when you said that you hadn't had friends for a long time."

"Yes. My life consisted of hunting, fighting, and surviving."

"Well, you're past that, let's go." he urged her on.

As they neared the barge, Shawukay stopped, and began looking around. Jonathan looked to her.

"Jonathan, I hear... swords. " she stared at the barge. "From the boat."

"Connor and Duncan. They're probably sparring. Training with each other."

"No. I know... sparring. This is combat." she said, moving to remove the sack carrying her sword from her back.

"Whoa, there." Jonathan said, grabbing her shoulder. "Connor and Duncan are both master swordsmen. They train as if they were really fighting." A grin spread across his face. "Want to watch?"

"How?" she asked, looking suspicious.

"I'll use a little angelic power. Put an image of their fight into your mind." he answered.

Shawukay considered that for a few seconds, then nodded. "Do it."

Suddenly her mind was filled with images. Two human males, about the same age, wielding identical swords. One, with black hair, tied in a ponytail. The other had long brown-blond hair. Both men worked to disarm the other, alternating between offense and defense. The speed and skill they displayed was astounding.

Shawukay was stunned. "Jonathan, how old are these two?"

Jonathan started. "What do you mean?" <She couldn't possibly...>

"These two. I have seen Bladesingers, the elite swordmasters of the elven nations. Most of them are four, or five centuries old. They would be... hard-pressed to defeat these two. And they are human!"

"They're masters. I told you that."

"This is beyond mastery. This is... I do not have a term for it. Which one is Connor?" she asked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"The light haired one. The black haired one is Duncan."

Now that she had identities straight, she began to take a warrior's approach, watching their moves and countermoves, cataloging each for reference.

"Jonathan, the swords they are using. What are they?"

"Katanas. Japanese longswords. Used by samurai, which are..."

Shawukay cut him off. "We have samurai on Toril. They are like your knights. Like... Arthur?"

"King Arthur?"

"Yes. Why do they use these swords?"

"Katanas are forged in layers. The blade alternates hard and soft metals, using a process called folding. The result is a weapon that is pliable, yet resistant to chipping. The blade is razor-sharp, and the entire weapon is somewhat lighter than standard swords."

"Are they... enchanted?" she asked.

"Not those ones, but I've heard rumors of Katanas that were."

The half-elf watched as the two men finish their match, and bowed to each other. The image faded suddenly, leaving Shawukay disoriented, causing her to stumble. Jonathan caught her.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I should have warned you."

"Yes, you should have." she answered, shooting him a grumpy look.

Jonathan smiled. "Ready to go in?"

"I do not know, after that display."

*****

The MacLeods were sitting on Duncan's couch, drinking some water after their sparring session. They were discussing Connor's guests while waiting for them to show.

"So, when's this student of yours supposed to arrive?" Duncan asked.

"Any time now. They were due this afternoon."

"So what do you know about her?"

"Only what Jonathan told me. She needs training in fighting without weapons. I can't understand how she can wield weapons, yet have no experience in martial arts." Connor explained.

"What weapons is she trained in?" the younger Immortal asked.

"Longbow, longsword, and dagger. Jonathan says she's good."

"Any idea how good?"

"Remember your little California 'vacation' in February?" Connor said with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, yes." Duncan did a double take. "Why?"

"Apparently, she killed two of 'them' in under three minutes less than a week ago."

Duncan let out a whistle. "Don't tell me she's one of us."

"No. Jonathan was clear about that. She's mortal, also she's not one of those..." he closed his eyes. "What is the girl, Buffy, called?"

"A Slayer?" Duncan offered.

"Right. She's not a Slayer, or an Immortal."

"Where is this girl from?"

"I don't know. Jonathan said she'd tell me if she wanted. He also warned me when describing her personality."

"Which is?" Duncan asked, dreading the answer.

"Two parts you, one part his sense of humor," he answered.

Duncan groaned. "I knew I should have asked you for a security deposit."

Both mean turned as a knock came from the door.

"Come in." Duncan called.

Jonathan walked in, followed by a woman who looked barely twenty. <That must be Shaw.> Duncan thought.

He noticed the hardness in her hazel eyes, which kept scanning back and forth. The tightness in her neck and arms suggested that she was always on guard. She wore black sweat pants, and a short-sleeved black shirt. From her back hung a cloth sack that screamed "sword." Clearly, this young woman was more used to fighting than not.

Connor walked up and gave Jonathan a brotherly hug.

"Jonathan! We were beginning to think you got lost," he said, grinning.

"Sorry. I had Shaw looking in on your practice. Popped the image right into her head. She was very impressed."

Both MacLeods raised eyebrows at that comment.

"Jonathan," Duncan spoke up. "She knows about your... occupation?"

"Heck, she figured it out twelve hours after we met."

"She got you to admit it?" Duncan was impressed.

"Yes. She has good instincts." Jonathan turned to the woman next to him. "Connor, Duncan, this is my student, Shaw..."

"Hunter." she finished. "Shaw Hunter."

Connor extended his hand. "Connor MacLeod."

Rather than take his hand, she clasped his forearm. "Greetings, Connor MacLeod."

Duncan stepped forward. "Duncan MacLeod. My friends call me Duncan, or Mac."

She repeated the armclasp, and nodded. "Very well, Duncan."

Connor looked at Jonathan. "Quite formal, isn't she?"

Jonathan nodded. "Except when hunting vampires."

Shawukay turned, a look of utter shock on her face.

Duncan laughed. "Don't worry, Shaw, we know about vampires. I helped the Slayer take a few down last winter."

"What is a Slayer?" she asked.

"You hunt vampires, but you don't know what a Slayer is?" Connor asked.

"No, Connor MacLeod, I do not."

"Let me explain, Connor." Jonathan cut in. "Shaw, the Slayer is a human girl, gifted with mystical strength, speed, and skill to fight vampires and other evils. Only one can exist at a time, and unfortunately, a Slayer's life expectancy is very short."

"Does this Slayer hunt by choice?"

Duncan shook his head. "It's more a case of destiny than choice."

Shawukay considered this information. "She is... talented? How long has she been hunting vampires?"

"She's very skilled, Shaw. And she's been the Slayer for two years."

"That is all?" she asked. "Two years?"

"How long have YOU been hunting them?" Connor asked, amused.

"Much longer than her. But they must fear her, calling her the 'Slayer.'"

Connor raised an eyebrow. "What do vampires call you?"

She shrugged. "Where I come from, vampires call me the Hunter."

Duncan stared at her. "What? Vampires call you this? They call you the 'Hunter?'"

Shawukay stared back at him. "Yes. I was the Hunter. But that is in the past."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"I no longer wish to hunt. I want to... move on, as you say."

"Shaw," Connor asked, "why did you start in the first place?"

Shawukay sat on the couch. "My grandparents. A vampire..."

"I understand. You wanted revenge." he said.

"Yes. But it was a mistake. I almost killed him, but he escaped. I lost him."

"So you hunted others?" Duncan asked.

"Many. Too many. I had less contact with living beings than the things that preyed upon them. I paid for that mistake. Dearly."

"How so, Shaw?" Duncan pressed.

"I do not wish to talk about it." she snapped. "The memories are... painful."

"Shaw, you can tell them. They'll understand." Jonathan said.

She jumped to her feet. "NO, Jonathan! They cannot... understand. Their ancestors were not killed. They did not lose half their life force. They did not fail to avenge it. Their souls are not dark like mine! I cannot let go... of my grandparents, the hate, no matter how I try! So do not tell me that they will understand!" Tears were streaming down her face.

Duncan stood. "I understand how you feel. I've been there."

Shawukay glared at him. "Please do not... insult me, Duncan MacLeod. How could you possibly understand?"

"Four years ago, I killed the man who had killed my father." he answered.

Shawukay's eyes widened. "This is true?" She looked to Connor, who nodded.

"Yes, and I can tell you, it made no difference. I still felt the anger and grief."

"Grief? I have never felt grief."

"Never felt it? Or never allowed yourself to feel it?" Connor asked gently.

"I never said goodbye." She was crying harder. "I never got the chance to say farewell."

"It's all right." Connor said. "We've dealt with it before."

Shawukay turned to Duncan. "I am... sorry, Duncan. You do understand. I meant no offense, I just..."

"Are used to handling things yourself." Duncan finished. "We can talk later, if you want."

She nodded. "I would... appreciate that."

"Duncan is like you, Shaw." Connor stated. "But enough. I want some dinner. Duncan's going home in a couple of days, so he's treating."

"Oh, really?" Duncan asked with a frown.

"Yes. She's my student, and you won't be here long, so you can treat once."

"And because it's your friend and student, you should treat."

As the two argued, Shawukay walked over to Jonathan.

"Are they always like this?"

"Usually, worse. I think they're being polite for you." he answered. "I'm sorry you didn't trust me to tell me how you felt."

"I do trust you. It is... myself I have trouble trusting."

"You shouldn't. Have you ever lost control with someone who wasn't a vampire?"

"No." she replied. "But I fear that I will. I also wish to know why I am here in the first place."

"You'll find out, sooner or later."

"I hope you are right, Jonathan."

*****

Later that night, Duncan was standing on the deck, enjoying the night air. He heard a sound behind him. Turning around, he saw Shaw standing behind him.

"Shaw, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"You said we could talk. Might we do so now?"

"Of course. Go ahead."

"Thank you. It is... hard for me to trust others. I have lived with death for so long, I am... less than open with others." she said.

"I was that way when I was young. I thought I could do everything alone."

Shawukay shook her head. "It was not a... conscious choice. I... thought I was saving lives by hunting."

"Sounds like you regret it." he offered.

"Yes. I was not doing it for others, but for myself. I am finally back on the path I want to travel, but it is hard... to focus."

"How do you have trouble?"

"Against vampires, I... lose control. Become enraged."

"A berserker."

"Yes," she agreed. "It is... frightening. I almost... killed a man whose life I saved." She shuddered.

"Why?" Duncan asked, amazed.

"He was a criminal. He beats others for amusement."

"You saved him, but he was free to hurt others." he said, realizing her dilemma. "Would you have killed him?"

"I do not know." she replied, starting to cry. "I don't know. Jonathan and I talked, and I feel... horrified about what happened."

"Good." he said, drawing her attention. "If you feel that way, it means that you're still a good person."

"I wish I were as sure as you are, Duncan." she said, starting to calm a bit.

"I'm right. It'll just take time for you to realize it."

Shawukay was quiet for a time. "Duncan, about your father. Do you miss him?"

"Yes, I still miss him, Shaw."

"I miss my grandparents. Very much. Why does it hurt after all this time?"

"Because you love them, and you never grieved for them. Personally, from what Jonathan has told Connor and me about you, I think they would be proud of you. Think about that, Shaw."

With that, Duncan turned and went inside.

Shawukay stood on the deck long into the night, thinking. Finally, she went in.

*****

Paris, France
30 June 1998

Connor awoke with a start. He looked at the watch he'd set on the table, and sighed heavily. <5:30 A.M.? What is she thinking?>

Jonathan had been handed an assignment that morning, so he'd be gone for a couple days, so Connor was stuck alone with his new pupil. Connor got up and dressed quickly, and headed for the deck. He quietly opened the door, and peeked out.

<Sure enough.> he thought, shaking his head.

Shawukay was near the front of the barge, decked out in sweat pants, a gym shirt, and athletic shoes, practicing the moves he'd been teaching her the past few days. As she turned, her braided hair whipped around, and Connor noticed that she was doing the moves with her eyes closed.

<She's doing it by memory?> he thought, slightly impressed despite his displeasure. <I'm sorry, kid, but I think you need to come inside.>

Connor snuck up behind her, and called her name, "Shaw."

Shawukay immediately turned, throwing a front punch straight at his jaw. Connor caught her fist in his own, and grinned. "Nice try, Shaw," he said.

Shawukay's eyes flashed in surprise for a split second, then in irritation.

"Connor, please do not sneak up on me like that. I could have hurt you," she said, pulling her fist loose. She muttered something that Connor didn't understand.

"What did you say?" he asked her, his eyes glistening in humor.

She caught herself. "I was.. commenting on how I did not hear you approach. I was not paying... proper attention."

"I'm pretty quiet when I have to be," he said with a grin.

Shawukay shot him a dirty look. "I should have heard you."

"And I would say you were concentrating very well." <But you need to relax a bit. You're a potential burnout case if I ever saw one.>

The half-elf considered his face. "Was that a compliment, Connor?"

"Sort of. I don't appreciate being woken up this early."

Her mouth twitched. "I am quiet when I try to be," she said.

Connor frowned at her. "Fine. Since we're both up, we'll start our workout early. We'll stop early, and tonight we're going out."

"We are what?" Shawukay asked, not sure that she heard correctly.

"I'm taking you out, into town," he clarified, his tone brooking no disagreement.

She nodded curtly. "I see. You are.. presuming a type of interest that I do not hold for you."

Connor blinked. Twice. "What type of interest would that be?"

"A romantic one," she answered