The Section Seven Chronicles

Heart of the Huntress

 

Written by Charlie Schone schone23666@yahoo.com

 

Edited by Jack Caynon.  NorJC@aol.com

 

 

Summary:  A novel set in the Slayerettes’ early days before they became Section Seven.

 

This story is rated for Mature Readers and depicts sexual situations, offensive language and graphic violence.

 

Disclaimers:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: All rights and properties belong to Joss Whedon, Fox Studios and Mutant Enemy, etc.

Highlander: All rights and properties belong to Rysher Entertainment.

The Legendary Adventures of Hercules/Xena-Warrior Princess: All rights and properties belong to Renaissance and Flat Earth Productions.

Charmed: All right and properties belong to Spelling Television and Paramount Pictures.

Bureau 13, Horace Gordon, Dimitri the Centaur, Edward Alvarez, and Team Tunafish are the property of Tri Tac Systems and Nick Pollotta.

The characters Thulsa Doom and the Serpent Men are the property of the late Robert E. Howard.

The Witches of New Salem are the property of Marvel Comics.

The characters Steven St. Wolf, the Knights of the Grail, and the Wandererverse are the property of Steve Pantovich.

The characters Rhiannon Cathcart, Edwin Giles and Patricia Driscoll are the property of Jack Caynon.

The characters Layla Constantin, Jericho Saito, Sergio Dominguez, Vladimir Petrovsky, Edward Trent, Alex Sinclair, Julian Stone, Hekhmut, Tex Boyd, the Disciples of Set, the Hell Riders, and the Sisterhood of Bast are the property of Charlie Schone and may be used only with my permission.

 

Any characters, whose names and descriptions are used, are the property of their original owners, and no copyright infringement is intended or meant.

No money can be made from this story. It may be distributed freely so long as it is kept in its entirety, with all notices and copyright information remaining intact.

 

Comments and criticisms are welcome AND HIGHLY ENCOURAGED! Please give me feedback (just try to keep it somewhat constructive,J), as this definitely helps everyone out, the author and the readers.

 

Special thanks to Jack, for being a terrific as well as a VERY patient editor and providing plenty of ideas and advice for this story, and for adding more to this story and making it even better. Thanks also to Tater (vegetables of the world unite!) and Mike Weyer, for taking the time out of their schedules to read over my stuff and provide good input.

 

I’d also like to thank several authors, past and present, whose stories have fascinated me, and, in their own way, inspired me when writing my own stories. They are (but certainly not limited to): Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Bram Stoker, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert E. Howard, Stephen King, Ed Greenwood, Neil Gaiman, Mercedes Lackey, and Frank Miller.

 

Credit also goes to all the fanfiction writers out there in the Wandererverse and beyond, including Jack and the late Tim Knight, who gave me inspiration to write my own stories as well.

 

Also special thanks of course to Steve, for letting us play in the “Wandererverse”, as well as the other readers who provided feedback on my work, and last but not least, the creators of these characters we’ve grown to love, including Joss Whedon (whose talents brought these characters to life, however flawed some of his ideas may be...). 

 

Now, on with the show…

 

(Author’s Note: This story takes place about one month after the events of “The Immortal Man” and a few days before “Midnight Visitations”)

 

 

#######

 

 

Sunnydale High School

January, 1997 …

 

As Catherine Madison yelled, “Corsheth, take her!” the Slayer executed a standing hook kick, knocked the pole out from under the mirror and allowed it to drop in front of her to shield her.  Then the spell leapt from the witch’s hands only to be reflected by the mirror back at Catherine.  It enveloped her as she screamed, catching her up in the twisting energy that with a roar, disappeared, taking her with it.

Buffy then surveyed the scene to find a badly shaken Amy and her Watcher waking up from Catherine’s attack.

”Well…that was, um, interesting,” Giles observed.

Buffy helped him up and asked, “You guys okay?

After Amy said she was fine, Giles said, “I assume the, uh, all the spells are reversed. It was my first casting, so... I may have got it wrong.”

Beaming at him, Buffy gushed, “You saved my life! You were a god!”

 

 

Sunnydale High School

November, 1997…

 

Rupert Giles caught up to the slender woman who had started to climb the stairs.  “Jenny! Ah, Jenny…”

 

Jenny Calendar turned to face the English Librarian. “Rupert…hi.”  She was dressed very casual today.  She also looked very tired.  The Watcher cringed as he imagined just how distraught she was after being possessed by the demon Eyghon.

 

“I-I tried to call you last night…s-see how you were.”

 

“Yeah, I…I left my phone off the hook.”  The computer teacher took a deep breath, fidgeting uncomfortably.  “I seem to need a lot of sleep lately.”

 

Concern flashed in the eyes of the Watcher as he regarded the woman he loved.  “A-are you all right?  Is there anything you need?”

 

Jenny shook her head. “No, no I’m fine.”  She paused for a moment then continued.  “I mean, I’m not running around, wind-in-my-hair, the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music fine, but…” She took another deep breath, trying to relax.  “I’m coping.”

 

“I would like to help.”

 

Jenny nodded sadly.  “I know.”

 

Giles fidgeted with the papers he held in his hands, his mind racing with what he wanted to say.  “Perhaps, um…we could talk sometime.  Uh, dinner…or a drink?  When you’re feeling stronger.”

 

The Technopagan gave Rupert a sad, uncertain smile.  “Sure, sometime.”

 

The Watcher attempted to reach out to Jenny, who quickly backed away.  “Yeah, sometime,” Jenny quietly added.  A range of emotions played briefly across her face, before she sighed and gestured above.  “I better get to class.”

 

Giles at that very moment felt as though something had struck him in the gut, hard.  He wanted to say more, but knew that it was useless.  “Yes…of course.”

 

The Watcher and the Technopagan looked at each other one last time, before Jenny turned and walked away…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heart of the Huntress

 

 

The Bronze

Sunnydale, California

April 29, 1998

18:50 PST

 

The Bronze nightclub, one of the prime hotspots for Sunnydale’s youth, bustled with activity on almost any given night of the week.  The club’s brightly lit dance floor was alive with teenagers and college students alike who danced and swayed to the techno music blaring from the overhead speakers, while the more dimly lit areas were congested with various cliques and couples, who shared gossip and kisses with drinks in hand.  Friendships were made and lost, hearts were broken, and people kissed and made up…

 

On this particular night, Buffy Summers, Steven St. Wolf, Xander Harris, Cordelia Chase, Amy Madison, Willow Rosenberg, and Oz Green were seated comfortably around a large table, nursing their drinks and chatting the night away, watching the flurry of student life swirl around them.

 

“So, Super-Soldier Man, enjoying what currently passes for Sunnydale’s Center of Coolness?” inquired Xander to the Immortal Wanderer St. Wolf, who in turn received a round of quizzical stares from everyone at the table.  “What?” he asked.

 

Buffy Summers, the Immortal Slayer, raised a questioning eyebrow at her friend.  “I thought you were the one that was supposed to be ‘Super-Soldier-Guy.’”

 

“Oh, please,” scoffed Cordelia Chase, “he’s more like ‘Super-Soldier-Wannabe.’”

 

“Hey!” Xander said indignantly to the Amazon beauty at his side, “at least I don’t spend an hour checking my nails after every fight!”

 

The lovely brunette shrugged.  “Well, even though we constantly battle the forces of Darkness, one still has to maintain a sense of decorum.”  Sunnydale’s self-proclaimed prom queen cast a critical eye at her boyfriend’s off-color wardrobe, comparing it to her own dark purple mini-skirted ensemble.  “Obviously, that’s something you still need to learn, Oh Lame One.”

 

“Xand, I have to agree with her on the decorum part,” Buffy added, smoothing a crease in the sleeveless white shirt that went with her own miniskirt and knee-high boots.  She’d overheard one of the boys snickering earlier that she and Cordy were playing another round of “who’s-most-likely-to-flash-a-glimpse-of-paradise.”  Buffy frowned at that.  Sometimes Slayer-hearing wasn’t such a cool thing to possess.

 

Xander just glared at his girlfriend.  “Idiot!”

 

“Moron!” Cordelia shot back.

 

“Loser!”

 

“Dweeb!”

 

“Bimbo!”

 

The brunette Amazon’s frown changed into a sensuous yet wicked smile as she stole a kiss from her boyfriend, to a chorus of sighs and eye-rolling from the other Slayerettes.  “Ahem,” Steve interjected himself, interrupting the two lovebirds.  “In response to your question, Xander, I’ve been here before, remember?  It’s…okay.”

 

“Okay?”  Buffy mouthed the word to the Wanderer.  “What do you mean by, ‘okay’?”

 

“I mean, well….” Steve fidgeted uncomfortably for a second, combing the fingers of his left hand through his short brown hair.  “I tend to frequent other types of clubs.”

 

“YES!” Xander exclaimed triumphantly, “I always knew underneath that professional exterior you were a strip club groupie, Steve!”

 

“Uuuuugh,” Amy Madison, the blonde Amazon witch everyone called “Sabrina” grunted.  The willowy girl clad in a blue leotard top with an attractive pair of leather pants grimaced in disgust at Xander’s comment. “Could you possibly be any more of a perv?”

 

“Shut up, Harris,” the Wanderer growled, “I don’t frequent strip clubs!  Well…not often,” he sheepishly admitted, which drew a deadly glare from the Slayer, “I just tend to more often frequent…honky-tonk clubs.  You know, country-music bars.”

 

“Eeeewww!” The Slayerettes exclaimed in unison.

 

“What the hell’s so wrong with country music?”

 

“Country music?” asked Willow Rosenberg, the Amazon Wicca, her pixyish face scrunched up in a quizzical expression hued by flaming red hair that matched her red camisole top and complemented her black leather pants.  “Isn’t that where they have guys decked out in Roy Rogers’ outfits constantly croon about pain and misery?”

 

“Actually, it’s more like music that drives you insane,” Oz Green, the taciturn werewolf muttered, shaking his head. His multi-colored clothing almost matched his own mop of infamous multi-colored hair.  “Dude, that’s definitely not my scene.”

 

“Well, Little-Miss-Likes-To-Fight,” Cordelia said, “guess that explains your boyfriend’s wardrobe.”

 

This time it was St. Wolf’s turn to look confused.  “What’s the matter with my wardrobe?”

 

Buffy Summers looked over her new boy-toy and cooed, “Well, I hate to agree with Queen C, but she’s got a point, sweetie.  Flannel shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots are SO passé. However,” she added with a wicked smirk, “I might be able to persuade you to allow me to take you to the mall sometime, get some clothes for ya that are more this century and all…”

 

The Immortal Demon Hunter shot an intimidating look at the Immortal Slayer, only to find that it had failed miserably as she continued to smirk at him.  Being dragged to the mall by the Chosen One on a shopping trip was NOT his idea of a good time.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled, “Is this why you asked me to come along, so you all could torture me all night?”

 

The blonde’s smirk broke into one of her irresistible thousand-watt grins.  “Got it in one, sweetie.”

 

“Don’t feel too bad, Steve, my man,” Xander offered in a show of support, “At least you’re old enough to drink manly beverages while we poor hormonal teenagers,” he held his soda drink up in the air, “are still doomed to drink what amounts to overpriced carbonated Kool-Aid.  But let’s not forget…while you’re older, at least you don’t look old and crinkly like Giles.”

 

“Excuse me?!” the Wanderer and the Slayer asked in unison, both of them shooting very cross looks at Xander.

 

“Hey, let’s face it; I’m not the only person who’s totally wigged that an awesome hottie like Ms. Calendar falls all over herself for an old guy like the G-Man.”  He continued, oblivious to the table’s occupants’ frantic glances over his shoulder and the unsubtle clearing of their throats. “I mean, he’s ancient enough to be somebody’s daddy!  What is it about chicks and old guys anyway?”

 

“Actually, Xander,” a familiar English accented voice with a hint of menace purred dangerously behind him, “I do believe it’s because ‘chicks,’ as you say, find older men to be far more intelligent and…mature.”

 

Xander turned around in his chair with an expression of dread on his face to find Rupert Giles, dressed in his usual tweed outfit, regarding him rather frostily.

 

“G-Man!”  Xander yelped.  The boy’s face instantly shifted to one that resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching semi-trailer truck, “Uh, you’re here!” he squeaked.  “Er…I mean…here.”

 

 

“Yes Xander, I am,” the Watcher said, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he flashed a hint of “The Ripper” in his glare at the young boy.  “And again, I ask you not to call me that!”  Then his demeanor transformed into one that reminded Buffy of a cobra preparing to strike as he leaned over Xander and softly noted, “I see that you’re exhibiting your usual habit of allowing your mouth to race ahead of your reason.” 

 

The X-Man could only weakly laugh as he inwardly gulped.

 

At that moment, Buffy was impressed.  Wow, she mused, my Watcher really scared the crap out of Xander.  Man, for an old guy…he’s got it going on!

 

Then without missing a beat, Giles glanced over at his charge and flashed one of his special smiles meant only for her.  “Hello, Buffy.”

 

The Slayer beamed at her Watcher.  “Giles!  It’s so good to see you…er, I think.”  The Chosen One then frowned slightly.  “So what brings you here?  Another news flash about a prophesized end-of-the-world thingy, pending catastrophe, pre-ordained massacre, stuff like that?”  Her lips then curled up into a lovely smile.  “Or have you decided to emerge from that dusty, musty library and hang out with the rest of us?” 

 

“Oh, ahm, well, actually,” the Watcher stuttered, reverting back to his normal, librarian self.  “I-I’m here because…”

 

“He’s here because I was able to convince Rupert that it was okay to go out and experience something fun tonight,” purred a lyrical female voice.  Everyone looked to see Jenny Calendar, clad in a fashionable black leather trench coat that matched her raven hair, appear besides Giles with two bottles of beer in hand.   “Here you go, England,” she offered a bottle to Giles, who took it gratefully.  She turned to the assembled Slayerettes and smiled.  “Hi kids, what’s up?”

 

Willow smiled brightly at the Gypsy witch who had become her mentor.  “Hi, Jenny!  Nice to see you here!  So, you decided to come and hang out with us?  That’s so cool!”

 

“Well, actually, this,” she indicated with a sweep of her hand that held her bottle of beer, “was our second choice.  I was gonna take Rupert to a heavy metal concert but it was postponed.”

 

The  Slayer paused for a moment, considering that the words “heavy metal” and “Rupert” had been used together in the same sentence.  “A heavy metal concert, huh?  That would’ve been…interesting.”  Then she couldn’t help but cock a well-groomed eyebrow at the thought of Giles, clad in tweed, thrashing to heavy-metal music.

 

“Ah, yes,” Giles continued, “I’m sure it would have been, um, fascinating.”  He quickly took a sip of his beer and blushed slightly.  “Uh, can I offer any of you a drink…a-a latte perhaps, or….” He paused when he heard Jenny snicker next to him.  “What’s so amusing?”

 

“People don’t come to nightclubs to drink lattes, Rupert.”  She smiled coyly at him.  “They come to do fun stuff, like…”

 

“Like?”

 

“Dance.”

 

The Watcher paled at that word, and then out of the corner of his eye noticed the bemused expressions on the faces of the other Slayerettes and Steve.  “D-dance?  I…I…ah, Jenny, I’m really not that skilled of a, um, dancer...” The sound of a chicken squawk emanated from one of the Slayerettes.  Giles swiveled his head and glared at the table’s patrons, all of whom feigned innocence.

 

The gypsy smiled seductively at the Watcher and snuggled slightly closer.  “Dancing isn’t that hard, England,” she teased.   “You just move to the beat, that’s all.”

 

The Watcher gazed at the dark Amazon quizzically for a moment before he shifted his gaze to the dance floor, where a crowd of youths were busy gyrating to some indiscernible tune.  “And you call that dancing, I take it?”

 

Jenny shrugged in response.  “Actually, that’s a bit more like rave dancing…kinda like what they do at the Burning Man festival, although they do it in the nude.  At least, that’s how I do it,” she added casually to the wide-eyed stares of the Slayerettes and the Wanderer.  Meanwhile, Giles nearly choked on his beer.

 

As if on cue, the techno song finally came to an end and all the youths that had been dancing whooped and cheered.  The club deejay, a young man sporting a goatee, headphones and sunglasses, loaded a new CD onto his sound system and soon a slower, mellower tune began to play throughout the club as the lights dimmed.  The gypsy teacher’s face broke into an impish smile before she stood slightly back from the Watcher, placed her beer bottle on top of the table and slowly…deliberately untied the belt of her leather duster.  Moments later, she swept the coat off with a flourish…revealing a sight that instantly caused the Englishman’s eyes to widen along with those of the rest of the table’s patrons.

 

The dark Amazon was encased in a glossy black leather dress that left her arms and shoulders bare, showing off her perfectly tanned skin that shone in the dimmed lights of the club.  The dress clung to her body like a second skin, smoothly and perfectly, showing off her trim figure.  The garment terminated at the midpoint of her upper thighs, revealing her fabulous dancer’s legs, which rode on a pair of high-heeled shiny black stiletto pumps.

 

The boys, including Steven St. Wolf, could only gawk as their hormones, along with all their baser urges, had suddenly shifted into overdrive…something that did not go unnoticed by their respective dates and Amy.  Meanwhile, the teen-aged women could do nothing but stare and occasionally blink like a flock of owls. 

 

This was SO not the Jenny Calendar they’d come to know!

 

“I say…Jenny, um…th-that’s a…d-different look for you,” Giles stammered, struggling to hold onto his British reserve while being confronted by the lovely vision before him.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling.  With slow, catlike grace she sauntered toward the dance floor.  Then, as if an afterthought, Jenny coyly glanced over her shoulder at the librarian.  “Aren’t you coming?”

 

“If he isn’t,” Xander murmured under his breath, “I’m about to.”

 

Giles stood frozen, feeling like he had walked into a carefully laid trap, with the object of his desire holding out a perfectly manicured lure to him in a “come hither” gesture of temptation.  As he continued to stand there hesitantly, as if trying to decide whether to step forward or back, the gypsy derailed his train of thought by gliding her hand down the Watcher’s arm to intertwine her fingers with his.  Without further ado, the gypsy Amazon gently tugged her paramour toward the dance floor, where several young couples had already began to gently sway to the music.

 

#

 

When the computer teacher wrapped her arms possessively around the shoulders of her Watcher, Buffy felt a twinge of something in the pit of her stomach.  Was it jealousy?  Uh uh, no way…uh, maybe way, she thought, when she noticed that her beau was still staring open-mouthed at the form of Jenny Calendar pressing herself against Rupert Giles.  “Ahem,” she said, pretending to clear her throat rather loudly, “you’re not by chance trying to catch any flies, are you, Steve?”

 

St. Wolf blinked once, then twice before he turned his attention to his blonde companion and, after noticing her slightly annoyed expression, quickly shut his mouth, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red.  “Uh, sorry,” he stammered, “I just thought it was a little…unusual that Jenny was dressed like that and I was…uh…just wondering if she was okay…and….uhhhhh,” his voice trailed off.

 

Two can play at this game, Buffy thought.  She had decided she was also in the mood for a little dance with her new boyfriend.  She stood up and took his hand into hers, pulled him up onto his feet none too gently, and began a little stroll toward the dance floor.  Looking over her shoulder she asked, “Anyone else coming?”

 

“I…think everyone else here is A-okay for now, right guys?” Amy said, as she looked at her Amazon sisters and their respective boyfriends, and noticed that the boys were still staring open-mouthed at the form of Jenny Calendar swaying to the music.  “Uh, guys??”  The boys continued to gape…until their mates slapped them upside the head, hard.  As the boys yelped and rubbed their heads, Amy just sighed in resignation and muttered “Yeah, we’re just peachy.”

 

The Immortal Slayer simply shrugged and guided St. Wolf onto the dance floor.

 

#

 

After watching Buffy and Steve find a niche on the dance floor, Amy murmured to her friends in a concerned tone, “Say guys, just curious…has Jenny mentioned anything more to any of you about, well, ‘the incident?’” 

 

In the Slayerette lexicon, the “incident” referred to the time a month ago when the gypsy witch had been forced to defend Buffy from the gypsy Immortal Alexi Gregof.  Jenny had been forced to kill her clansman and her noble sacrifice resulted in her banishment from her clan. 

 

Both the brunette and redheaded Amazons shook their heads.

 

“No, she really hasn’t said that much about it, Amy…I guess you really can’t blame her if she doesn’t wanna talk about it,” Willow offered, her face slightly scrunched in a worried expression.   Although she and the other Amazons certainly felt Jenny had done the right thing and were firmly supportive of her, they also wondered how devastated she must have felt by having both to take the life of her cousin and lose her connection to her people.

 

“Well, if you ask me, Jenny’s better off without those losers.  I mean, HELLO!  Just what kind of morons place a curse on some guy and say, ‘Hey, let’s put in a clause saying that if he finds true happiness by boinking some poor unsuspecting schmoe, he presto-changes back into Psycho-Killer Guy as his punishment?!’  And just as an added bonus, let’s send out some homicidal sword guy after the unlucky tramp who happens to give him the ‘happy’ that breaks the curse!”

 

The little red witch cringed at Cordy’s diatribe.  “Buffy’s not a tramp, Chase!”

 

“Don’t get all wiggy on me, Rosenberg.  I didn’t mean Buffy particularly…I was just thinking about it from a global perspective.  Besides, not everything revolves around the Slayer, you know.  We were talking about Jenny!”

 

Although Willow narrowed her eyes and shot a look of annoyance at the brunette, she decided to let her issue about Buffy drop for now.  “Well, Jenny’s situation isn’t that simple, Cordelia.  I mean, she was really close to her clan and all, you know?  They were her family.  Now she doesn’t have that.  I don’t think having to kill her own cousin helped out anything much either.”

 

Queen C huffed and rested her elbows on the table.  “I know, Netgirl, I know.  Best we can do for her now is to be there for Jenny like the sisters we are, or are supposed to be, or…whatever,” she muttered, as she took another look at Jenny who was engaged in a slow, sensual dance with her enthralled librarian.  “She should be ready to go for the ritual thingy with Artemis we’ve got planned for Friday though, right?  Belfast, bedlam, bell…something.”

 

“Beltane, Cordelia, Beltane,” Amy chimed in patiently. “Celebrated May 1^st, sometimes referred to as May Day.”

 

“Pagan and Wiccan celebration of fertility and rebirth,” Willow added with a smirk.

 

The dark Amazon threw her hands up in the air in defeat.  “Okay, FINE!  Beltane, smeltane!  Excuse me for not being Little-Miss-Webster’s like you two geeks.”  Cordelia huffed once more before she flipped a few strands of her lovely chestnut hair over her left shoulder.  “But I thought Beltane, or whatever you call it, was more of a Pagan-ish than an Amazon-ish kind of thing.”

 

“Well, technically speaking the term is ‘Amazonian’, but as to the ritual…um…yeah,” Amy confirmed sheepishly.  “But since we’re still learning about Amazonian rituals and holidays, we figured in the meantime it wouldn’t hurt to do something like this for Artemis.   Hopefully she’ll like it, and this’ll be good for Jenny, too…I think.”

 

“I just really hope she’s okay.”

 

“Us too, Cordy,” Willow agreed as she and her Amazon sisters watched Jenny continue to dance sensually with her companion.   The redheaded Wicca noticed that Buffy, who was also out on the floor dancing with her beau, kept throwing sidelong glances at Jenny and Giles, as if she were spying on them.  What’s up with that?

 

Cordelia couldn’t help but smirk as she watched Giles attempt to sway to the music.  “You know, Giles at the Bronze, I’ve seen that before.  But Giles dancing at the Bronze?  Now that’s a first, right Xander?  Xand…?”  Cordelia turned to her boyfriend, who, along with Oz, was once again staring slack-jawed at the curvaceous, sensual form of Jenny Calendar swaying seductively to the beat of the music, her motions fluid and graceful, as she weaved a spell over her paramour.

 

“Damn, look at Jenny go,” Xander muttered, his eyes wide.  “Now I know how I must’ve looked when Buffy dirty-danced me at the beginning of the school year.”

 

“Yeah, man, for a teacher, she’s really hot,” Oz noted.

 

Both men were once again slapped upside their heads by their respective girlfriends even harder this time.

 

“Now would be a good time to stop drooling, Dweeb-boy!” Cordelia hissed dangerously to Xander, who gulped loudly.

 

#

 

Jenny Calendar moved with an uncanny grace as she allowed the music to guide her across the dance floor.  Every movement of her body reminded Giles of a seductive flame.  He continued to dance as well as he could, however clumsy he felt, to the mellow tune of the music as he continued to be mesmerized by the woman before him.

 

To Jenny, dancing was nothing short of a living art form, a true expression of one’s self.  Ever since she was a child, she had always been fascinated by the intricacies of dance, how each form painted a vivid, living tribute to human emotion.  Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she’d watched a gypsy dance.  She had been fascinated and enthralled by it, the way the dancers expressed themselves for everyone to see, and at the same time seduce all who watched them...including her.  It brought back even more memories regarding her clan, of those she’d once called family…but sadly, no longer. 

 

She was now mordu…an outcast.

 

The pain played briefly across her face before she could catch it.  She hoped that the dimly lit club would hide it from her lover, but when she looked up into the compassionate eyes of her fuddy-duddy librarian, she saw his concern for her plainly in them.

 

“Jenny…are you all right?”

 

She smiled earnestly at the Watcher as she felt the genuine warmth in his voice.  She often felt that Rupert never considered the fact that he was in many ways so unlike most of the other men she’d known in her life.  Oh sure, she mused, there’d been plenty of other guys she had dated before, some of whom were, for lack of a better word, “nice.” But none of them could have held a candle to the gallant and charming man who held her in his arms at that moment. 

 

“I’m fine, Rupert,” she said softly as she drew him closer, her body melding into his.  Giles felt her warmth flow through their connection, along with an electricity that aroused him.  He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of her perfume, a faint yet pleasant aroma that made him think of a cool, flower-speckled forest glade.  He almost shook his head in wonder at how this woman never ceased to fascinate him, especially now.  He could only marvel at what had compelled her to act like this tonight; was it a part of herself she had kept hidden from him…or was it…something else? Then she derailed his train of thought when she leaned her head against his chest, causing his momentary sense of worry to slip away, for the moment.

 

The mellow dance tune subtly shifted into another song, and soon the words from Lauren Christy’s “Walk this Earth Alone” began to play over the club’s sound system:

 

You're in the doors that keep revolving

The sirens that keep screaming

You're in the flashing of the headlights

The things that I'm believing

 

Jenny looked up again into the face of her companion and met his gaze…and then with a little smile, turned around and leaned her back into his chest.

 

You're in the water that I'm drinking

The sound of 911

The walls that protect me

From the damage that you've done

In this world you are with me

 

With her right hand she undid the knot that held her raven hair in place and allowed her tresses to fall like indigo waves across her shoulders.  As Giles continued to worship her with his eyes, she leaned her head back and subtly began to glide her body up and down his torso, her hands entwined with his own.  Feeling extremely aroused, the Watcher struggled to control the burning desire that he felt for this seductive creature.

 

But I walk this earth alone

And all I've ever known

Is you are right beside me

If I love you for a day

Then blow my life away

Could I leave you behind me?

 

“Rupert?” she whispered softly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you still want me?”

 

Giles looked again at the woman he loved and stammered “I-I beg your p-pardon?”

 

You're in the crashing of the windows

The angels 'round the ceiling

You're in the fire in my belly

The fucked-up way I'm feeling

 

The dark gypsy turned around and looked earnestly at the man she loved more than anyone else in her life.  “I asked…do you still want me…in your life, even after everything that’s happened between us?”

 

The Englishman could only stare at the gypsy witch for a moment, as he struggled to find the words he longed to say.

 

You're in the warning on the table

The pills that disappear

The whines as I'm talking

The words you'll never hear

In this world you are with me.

 

“Jenny,” he whispered, “how could you ask me that, darling?  I…of course I want you…I need you.”  His voice cracked with emotion.  “I-I need you so very much.”

 

The dark Amazon smiled as she attempted to hold back her tears.  She tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.  Jenny felt a burning desire that had been building inside her during the last few days, a desire that was slowly forcing her to throw caution to the winds…

 

But I walk this earth alone

And all I've ever known

Is you are right beside me

If I love you for a day

Then blow my life away

Could I leave you behind me?

 

The Amazon’s sensuous face leaned closer to the Watcher’s own, her eyes narrowed to slits as their lips drew closer…

 

Could I leave you behind me?

 

“Buffy?  Oh…bloody hell.”

 

“Huh?”  Jenny opened her eyes and her mood was shattered.  She noticed that a perturbed Giles was looking over her shoulder.   She swiveled her head and saw Buffy with the Wanderer in tow behind her with serious expressions on both their faces.  “Buffy, what is it?”

 

The Slayer regarded her Watcher and the computer teacher momentarily before she responded.  “I think I just saw an old friend of ours walking out the back door.”

 

Giles got a blanched look on his face when he considered that the Slayer had used the term “old friend” in a not-so-friendly tone of voice. 

 

Jenny turned from the Watcher and sighed, muttering “Dammit, another fricking Tuesday night in Sunnydale.”

 

The quartet walked briskly over to the table where their friends sat and donned their coats, automatically checking to make sure the weapons they had hidden in their pockets were ready.

 

“Hey, what’s up?  You guys were all getting dirty dancy out there and now it’s all risky business?”  Xander noted.  “We were at least hoping you’d go for an encore before heading home to engage in the horizontal mambo…OW! Dammit, will you stop doing that?!” The X-Man howled as Cordelia, Willow and Amy kicked him in the shins, hard.  “What am I, your whipping boy?!”

 

Cordelia raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows and said sarcastically, “Wow!  Dweeb boy actually got something right for a change!”

 

Giles watched the antics between the teens and rolled his eyes.  “Ah, yes, ‘the future of America’…I pity this poor nation,” he muttered in resignation.

 

“Buffy?”  Willow asked, a worried expression dawning on her pixie-like face.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Just saw something that I think we’d better check out,” Buffy said, her usual flippant tone long gone.  As the rest of the gang at the table moved to get up, Buffy shook her head.  “No, just wait here, ‘kay?  Keep an eye on things ‘till we get back.”

 

Oz simply shrugged.  “No problem, Buffy.”

 

“Sure thing,” Xander piped up, throwing a mock salute, “and in case something happens and you die for good, we’ll be sure to notify your Mom.” Suddenly, the young man noticed a round of evil glares from the Slayerettes.  “What?  Why can’t anyone appreciate my sense of humor?”

 

Leaving the rest of their team behind, Buffy, Steve, Jenny, and Giles had almost reached the exit door in pursuit of their quarry when the quartet ran across a young, curvaceous teenaged girl clad in a tight-fitting turtleneck, miniskirt and boots with long raven hair that came all the way down to her shapely behind. Standing next to her was a young, darkly handsome Hispanic teenage boy wearing casual evening clothes.

 

“Oh, uhh, hey Patty, Sergio,” Buffy blurted out to the young couple recognized as two of the few people outside the Scooby gang she considered as friends.

 

“Whoa, hey, Buffy! What’s up?”  Patricia Driscoll queried, an earnest smile illuminating her pretty face.  Next to her, Sergio Dominguez casually waved and offered a smile of his own…before his eyes grew round at the sight of Ms. Calendar in her evening dress, which was clearly visible beneath the open jacket she had donned. 

 

“Madre de Dios,” Sergio muttered in awe, slack-jawed at the sight of the curvaceous computer teacher, before mentally slapping himself back to reality and hoping Patty hadn’t noticed. 

 

“Hey, Patty…uh, sorry to cut and run so soon, but I gotta go, it’s an…” The Slayer fumbled with what she wanted to say.  “It’s an emergency.”

 

“Another emergency?”  Patty sighed.  “Again?  But you said…”

 

“I know, Patty, I know…and I’m sorry, really, but I gotta go,” the Slayer said, cringing inwardly.  She hated this part of the Slayer gig, always having to come up with lame excuses to fend off people who wouldn’t, couldn’t know or understand the horrors she and her friends faced on a daily basis. “Uhhh, make it up to you later?”

 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Patty’s face fell slightly, muttering.  “Later.”

 

The Slayer looked like she wanted to say more, before St. Wolf cleared his throat and nodded toward the exit.  After shooting him a glare, the Slayer excused herself and headed toward the door with her three companions in tow.

 

“Man, what’s that all about?”  Sergio asked.  The Puerto Rican and former Bronx native had heard some weird tales about Sunnydale, things that made the crap he’d seen and heard back in New York sound tame in comparison. However, the oddest thing to him as of late was Buffy Summers and her friends.  As much as he hated to admit it, as he considered them to be a cool bunch, he had heard some awfully strange rumors about them as of late…

 

Patty just shrugged and shook her head.  “Who knows?”  She spied the rest of the gang over by the table.  “There’s some more of her group.  Let’s go say hello.”  After the pair approached the Slayerettes’ table, Patty chirped, “Hey, guys!  What’s up?”

 

“Hey, girlfriend!” Amy yelled over the music.

 

“Hi, Patty,” Willow said with a winsome smile.  “Hello, Sergio.”

 

“Sergio!”  Xander called out to his new bud.  “Urge to Serge!  How’s it hangin’, man?”

 

“Hey, Xander…Oz.”  Sergio said, before he regarded Cordelia, Amy and Willow and sighed wistfully.  His cheeks flushed as he smiled shyly at the trio of beautiful girls.  “Hola, senoritas.  Que pasa?”

 

Amy waved.  “Not bad Sergio, not bad.”  She noticed the rest of her Amazon sisters were also smiling at the darkly handsome youth.  Although none of the Amazons considered Sergio to be anything more than a friend, mostly because he seemed to be interested in Patty, they all thought he had a hunky, Ricky-Martin-look to him.  In fact, Amy mused silently, if Patty hadn’t already taken an interest in Sergio, she’d do him.  Then she inwardly groaned at her horny thoughts and muttered under her breath, “For Goddess’ sakes, I’ve got to hurry and find a hunk of salty goodness of my damn own!”

 

“Sooo, what’s up with Buffy and her guy?”  Patty asked.  “And what’s with Ms. Calendar and Mr. Giles?  I didn’t think they hung out at the Bronze.”

 

“Oh…” Willow furrowed her brow in thought for a moment before she answered their friend.  “Giles and Jenny just wanted to get in touch with their inner adolescent selves, so they decided to come here.  Buffy and Steve were out dancing earlier, but they had to leave…they had to, uhhh…”

 

“Get a cat out of a tree,” Xander interjected, before suddenly feeling rather lame.  He noticed Amy and Cordelia out of the corner of his eye pinching the bridge of their noses in resignation.

 

“Right…so…basically all four of them left to take care of an emergency…which is to remove a cat from someone’s tree?”  Patty drawled and looked thoroughly unconvinced.  “Sure…whatever.”

 

#

 

The Slayer shoved the handlebar on the rear exit door and stepped out into a narrow alleyway cross-junction followed by her Watcher, the Wanderer, and the Amazon gypsy.  A light rain had recently fallen and thunder could still be heard rumbling overhead.  Pools of water congealed on the slick wet pavement as Buffy the Vampire Slayer stood in the middle of the alleyway and faced north, while her companions took flanking positions next to her and looked south, east and west. 

 

Not a thing appeared to be stirring, except for a stray cat poking through a dumpster.

 

“Buffy, are you quite sure you saw something?”

 

The little blonde regarded her Watcher and frowned slightly.  If she didn’t know better, he seemed slightly miffed that he and Ms. Calendar had been interrupted before having their little smooch.  Well, duh!  However, the fact that she had interrupted them before they could complete the dirty deed felt oddly comforting to Buffy.  Instantly, she shoved that notion aside and experienced a little twinge of guilt.  Why the hell would I want to feel that way?!   Then she shook her head to clear her mind and said, “Well, unless my spidey sense is on the fritz, I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.  Actually, scratch that, I’m definitely sure of it now…it’s Lyle Gorch.”

 

The Watcher blinked.  “Lyle Gorch.  Ah, yes…one of the Gorch brothers you faced several months ago, the vampire you didn’t slay?  You’re certain?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at her Watcher.  “Thanks for rubbing it in, Recap Guy, and yeah, I’m certain…mainly because he’s standing right behind you, Mr. Smarty-Pants.”

 

The librarian whirled to find a tall, mustachioed figure dressed in a tan duster and a cowboy hat that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere just a short distance away.  The man had a cocky smirk on his face and a gleam in his eye that clearly spelled “trouble.”  On either side of him were several vampires in game face, also dressed in cowboy-style attire and grinning humorlessly.  To the Slayer and her Watcher, the lead vampire’s features were unmistakable…

 

“Evenin’ there, sugar lips…miss me?”  Lyle Gorch drawled in a menacing tone.  Or at least, he seemed to be trying to sound menacing as he glared at the Slayer and her companions, who had now slightly shifted their positions to provide one another cover.

 

“Oh, PUH-lease,” Buffy drawled, “you come crawling back to Sunnydale and the only thing you can come up with is ‘sugar-lips’?  I’ve heard better pick-up lines from the pizza boy.”  She then threw him a mock pout. “Oh, and your poor excuses for cowboy henchmen should know that the circus won’t be in town for months, so we aren’t auditioning for clowns at the moment…sorry.”

 

“Watch your pretty little mouth there, Slayer,” Lyle growled.  “This posse’s with me.”  The vampire reared himself up proudly with his thumbs casually hooked in his belt.  “We’re the Hell Riders, and we’re here to raise all sorts of—“

 

“Wait!” the Slayer snapped, interrupting the vampire.  “Don’t tell me!  Let me guess… you’re looking to raise all sorts of…gee, I hope my ‘maw’ don’t go and wash my mouth out with soap for saying this…H-E-double toothpicks?” she drawled in a mock Ozark accent all the while regarding him with a bemused smile on her face.

 

Thrown by her sarcasm, the vampire gave her a confused look for a moment.  “Er…um…yeah?”  Then, apparently realizing the Slayer was taunting him, Gorch sneered angrily at the diminutive girl.  “Yes, indeedy, little lady!  We’re gonna raise all kinds of hell in this here little town!”  The other vampires chuckled in agreement as they began to stride forward slowly and purposefully toward the four assembled warriors.

 

“Hell Riders,” Giles whispered, recognizing the name.  He exchanged a quick look with St. Wolf, who nodded grimly. 

 

“Poor Marty Robbins must be rolling over in his grave right now,” the Wanderer said, then sighed.  He knew the name too.

 

Jenny cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.   “Hell Riders? Oh really, that’s what you call yourselves?  I thought it was Captain Cowpoke and the Buckskin Brigade.”

 

Lyle stopped and his features instantly shifted into his game face with a snarl.  “Who the Hell are you callin’ a ‘cowpoke,’ missy?!  Get ‘em, boys!!”  With that, the four vampires flanking him on either side whooped, “Yee-haw!!” and rushed toward the Slayer and her companions.

 

“Oh brother,” Buffy sighed as she faced one of the vamps.  Just as the vamp came within striking range, the Slayer whipped out a finely-carved oak dagger and gave it an easy twirl in her hand before flinging it straight and true into the vampire’s chest, causing the assailant to gasp and clutch the dagger as it was sent flying backwards before being reduced to ashes.  Out of the corner of her eye she witnessed her beau pull out his mystical sword Demon Slayer and, with practiced ease, swung the katana in a graceful horizontal arc, slicing the vampire that had rushed him in half, causing it to disintegrate.

 

On her other side, the Watcher drew his Glock 26 pistol with a threaded suppressor and fired twice, sending a blessed silver 9mm round followed by a compressed wooden one speeding into the night.  Both bullets penetrated one of the creature’s chest and reduced it to ashes.  On Giles’ left, the Amazon witch narrowed her eyes and quickly chanted lowly.  Eldritch fire glowed and swirled in her dark eyes before twin Levin energy bolts fired from them like Superman’s heat vision, striking the fourth vampire directly in the head and destroying it, causing a larger than normal cloud of ash to scatter everywhere.

 

As if on cue, the Slayer piped up in a mock sports announcer’s voice and said, “Well, sports fans, it’s four to nothing with the Slayer’s team in the lead!  Golly gee willikers, I wonder what Lyle’s thinking just as he’s about to kiss his ass goodbye!”  However, much to the Slayer’s disappointment, it seemed Lyle Gorch had once again run off and vanished, leaving her to pout prettily.  “I just hate it when they cut and run.”

 

#

 

 

After the Immortal Slayer and her friends had sent the wannabe cowboy vampires to Dustland, minus the elusive vampire Lyle Gorch, they regrouped inside the Bronze with the rest of the Scooby Gang.  Although they didn’t believe the return of Lyle Gorch constituted an Apocalyptic-type scenario, the fact that he wasn’t alone bothered Giles.  St. Wolf also agreed with the Watcher.  He’d had a few run-ins with this particular vampire pack before.  He knew there were definitely more of them, and despite the ease with which they had dispatched several of them earlier, handling them en masse wouldn’t be a piece of cake. 

 

After much discussion, it was decided that Buffy along with St. Wolf, Willow, Oz, Xander, Cordelia, and Amy would patrol the streets of Sunnydale tonight for any signs of the vampire pack, as well as stop by Willy the Snitch’s bar for a little “chat” to see if the weasel-faced owner had any news about their new arrivals.  While the gang patrolled, Giles and Jenny would go to the Sunnydale High School library and do some additional research on the Hell Riders.

 

Or at least, that’s what the librarian and the gypsy claimed they planned to do…

 

#

 

Pistyll Rhaeadr

A waterfall situated a few miles west of Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Wales.

00:05 Local Time

 

In the shadows of the lush, gently rolling steppes of the Berwyn Mountains, sat a secluded waterfall called Pistyll Rhaeadr.  Known by the locals as one of the Seven Wonders of Wales, it was regarded as one of the highest and most beautiful waterfalls in the land.  On this particular spring night, the wind gently sang amongst the blooming trees as water from the falls flowed freely down amidst the worn rocks, splashing gracefully into several steppes before finally gathering into the large pool nestled at the bottom of the falls. The occasional sounds of nocturnal wildlife carried along the gentle breezes along with the splashing and bubbling of the pristine water.  Overhead, the clouds had parted to reveal a moon that was not completely full, yet bright enough to reveal a lone figure, a woman who gently bathed at the base of the falls. 

 

She rose from the water, ethereal, allowing rivulets of water to trail sensually down around her lovely breasts and fair skin.  Her tall, trim figure contrasted against the waters that mirrored the light of the moon, highlighting her lush curves.  She closed her eyes momentarily as she slicked back her wet, honey-blonde hair away from her perfect heart-shaped face and full red lips.  She continued to stand there for a moment with her eyes closed, paying no heed to the chilly night as the moonlight continued to illuminate her achingly stunning face and form.

 

While the opulent waterfall and its surroundings were considered to be one of the most beautiful sights in Wales, they paled in comparison to the radiant beauty of the lady, a legendary creature who was so lovely that any mortal man would swear upon his grave that she was the most beautiful woman in existence…

 

“Lady Rhiannon?”

 

The woman, or rather, the deity known to many as the Welsh and Celtic Goddess of the Moon and Magic, the Sorceress Supreme herself, opened her eyes, revealing two beautiful witch-green orbs that shimmered like emeralds as she turned to regard the source of the voice. By the water’s edge, a tall, magnificent white steed stood regally with its head bowed respectfully.

 

“Aeddan,” she acknowledged softly, in a lilting voice that carried like the tinkling of the waters around her.

 

The tall, pale horse raised its head slowly before it spoke again, its voice deep, yet distinctly human-like. “Please accept my humble apologies for this intrusion, Lady Goddess.  Artemis, daughter of Zeus and the Greek Goddess of the Hunt, is here and seeks an audience with you.”

 

Rhiannon smiled warmly at Aeddan and nodded.  “Excellent.  Please show her in, Aeddan.”

 

The steed bowed again.  “By your command, my Lady.”  The horse turned and quietly trotted away, while Rhiannon stepped from the water onto the rocky edge of the pool, completely nude as the cool liquid continued to gently run down and away from her long hair and her magnificent body.  The Goddess of Magic raised her hands and summoned a miniature gale of wind that cloaked around her body and whipped through her hair, drying away the last remnants of water.  Moments later, the Goddess made a slight gesture with her hands and allowed the air around her to grow still.  Rhiannon then looked up to the tops of the gently swaying trees, from whence a small chorus of birds began to gently chirp and sing.  Soon, out of the treetops descended three magnificent birds…one emerald green, one gold and one snow white.  Two of the birds gently held a long, shimmering gown that was composed of ethereal golden lace in their beaks, while the third clutched a shimmering jewel in its small claws.

 

The Goddess smiled a greeting to her winged friends as they gently lowered the gown around her like a sheer veil, until it draped her form as the other bird gently came down and nestled the jewel into her hand.  The Goddess then wrapped the ethereal, shimmering gown around her body, the light of the moon turning it nearly transparent and revealing her incredible figure, before she took the jewel that the bird offered her and gently mounted it on her forehead.  Their tasks complete, the green and gold birds fluttered their wings before taking a seat on her shoulders, while the white bird gently nestled itself in her honey blonde hair.

 

“You keep excellent company, sister.  I am certain my forest friends could learn many things from yours,” a husky yet gentle voice spoke.

 

The Sorceress Supreme turned to find Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt and Moon, standing before her.  The Olympian had her trusty bow at her side and was dressed in her ornamental hunting leathers.  The moonlight seemed to radiate around her beautiful chestnut hair and her strong, yet supple curves as well.  The two Goddesses took several steps toward each other before reaching out and embracing in a sisterly hug.

 

“Thank you for coming, Arty,” Rhiannon spoke softly.

 

“It was my pleasure, Rhi.”  Artemis pulled back slightly and brought up a hand to caress Rhiannon’s cheek.  The Goddess of the Hunt nodded in greeting to the three birds that nestled on Rhiannon’s head and shoulders, the birds quietly chirping their own greeting in reply, before becoming still again.  “How are you, sister?”

 

Rhiannon smiled earnestly at Artemis, although there seemed to be a hint of sorrow and pain that manifested in her youthful-looking, yet ancient eyes.  “I’m well, Arty.  Actually…as well as I could be, I suppose.  I just wanted to come here for a little while, and relive some old memories.  Jonathan and I…we’d used to come here often, alone at night, just the two of us.”  The Goddess’s lovely face became sorrowful as her emerald orbs turned slightly moist.

 

Artemis drew her into another embrace, this one tighter than before.  “I’m so sorry, Rhi,” she said gently as she brought up her hand again to wipe a tear that trickled down Rhiannon’s cheek.  “I only wish there was something I could have done.  I just wish it wasn’t always like this…for them, or us.”

 

After Artemis let go of Rhiannon, the Welsh Goddess nodded sadly and wiped her eyes.  “I know, Arty.  Thank you all the same.  But perhaps, at least, that may change, at least in regards to the young women whose fates bring us here tonight.”

 

Artemis nodded. “Yes, indeed.  The time has certainly come, has it not?”

 

“Yes…it will be a long journey, sister.  You and I have spoken to our fellow moon sisters as well as some of the other gods, including a messenger from the Lord of All.  It is decreed, our wait is over…it begins tonight.”

 

The Goddess of the Hunt pursed her lips in thought.  “It will not be an easy journey, sister, either for them, for us, or our sisters.  There are many other forces at work now who will eventually realize, or are already beginning to sense, the potential that our Chosen possess.  They will undoubtedly try any means necessary to either gain complete control of them or kill them.”  The face of the Greek Goddess grew hard and determined.  “And neither we nor they can allow that to happen.”

 

“I know,” Rhiannon whispered.  “I recently spoke with Freyja, who had an audience with Odin.  It appears the One-Eyed God had a vision of the future…a most terrible vision, if our girls should fail.”  The beautiful goddess shuddered.  “I…can’t even describe it.”

 

Artemis nodded grimly. “Indeed.  I recently spoke with the Oracles myself.  They have spoken of similar dire warnings, should our Chosen fail in the long journey before them.  That is why time is indeed of the essence.  We must act now.”

 

Rhiannon nodded and turned to regard a cluster of numerous beings that had emerged from the shadows of the forest.  Creatures of the day and night, forest spirits, winged sprites, elves, and even a few dwarves had all come from out of hiding to bid farewell and good journey to the Welsh Goddess and her sister, as well as her white steed and her avian companions.  One of the winged fairies of the forest strode out in front of the assembled group and bowed deeply before the Goddess.

 

“Good journey, Lady Goddess,” she spoke in a soft lilting voice.  “Please come back and visit again soon.  These lands are not the same without you.”

 

Rhiannon smiled sadly yet earnestly at all the assembled faces, before walking up to gently embrace the fairy.  “Thank you, Hywela, and thank you all. Remember however, that I am always here.  If ever you need my audience or aid, simply call out my name, and I will answer.”  With that, the Welsh Goddess released Hywela, turned toward her sister, and strode over to Artemis with the steed and the three birds in tow.  The two Goddesses turned and raised their faces and arms to the eternal moon high in the sky.  Soon, their forms became ethereal as they merged with the light of the moon and vanished altogether.

 

For a moment the assembled spirits of the forest quietly regarded the spot where the two Goddesses had stood, before they silently merged back into the shadows of the forest.  Soon, there was nothing at all except the gentle wind swaying through the trees and the churning, bubbling waters of Pistyll Rhaeadr.

 

#

 

Sunnydale High School Library

Sunnydale, California

19:25 PST

 

“England?”  The lilting voice of Jenny Calendar caught the Watcher’s attention.  Giles looked up from the well-worn text on vampires he studied to gaze at the computer teacher.  Her face wore an amused smirk as she typed on the keyboard connected to the computer in front of her. “Just so you know, you still have about a year and a half left.”

 

The English librarian adjusted his spectacles and regarded the gypsy with a puzzled expression.  “A year and a half left for, ah, what exactly?”  They were both seated at one of the library’s long wooden oak tables with piles of old texts and ancient manuscripts laid all about.  The Tiffany lamp perched on the table cast lingering shadows in the dim library, illuminating the book that the Watcher held lovingly in his hands.  He gazed for a long moment at the gypsy teacher’s beautiful, sensual face framed by her indigo hair and illuminated by the dim glow of the computer monitor. My God, she’s so beautiful…

 

“To join the Twentieth Century,” Jenny drawled as she clicked the mouse and retrieved an article on a website that specialized in the occult and folklore.  She never missed the chance to tease her favorite librarian about his aversion to modern technology.  While she prided herself on her expertise of computers, among other things, the Englishman chose the old-fashioned, scholarly route, immersing himself in centuries, sometimes millennia-old, manuscripts and scrolls.  I guess what they say is true, opposites do attract, she mused.

 

“Oh…yes, very amusing,” Giles noted in a droll tone.  “Well, I think I shall have to be, to use the vernacular of this country, ‘dragged into the Twentieth Century kicking and screaming.’”

 

Jenny chuckled and shook her head.  “If that’s what it takes, England….” Her voice trailed off as she read the opened text document on her computer screen.  Then she frowned.  “Hmm.”

 

“Find something?”

 

The Technopagan raised an eyebrow at the Watcher.  “That kind of expression always gets your attention, doesn’t it?”  She returned her attention to the computer.  “Well, I’ve found some history on these vampires called the Hell Riders.   Looks like you were right, England…they’re not exactly a warm and fuzzy bunch.  According to occult folklore, they’re descended from a rather notorious gang of outlaws that were prevalent throughout the American West during the 1800’s.  They pretty much did everything…murder, robbery, rape, arson, etc.  And they did all of that BEFORE they were turned.”

 

“Hmmm, yes, that seems to agree with what I’ve found here,” the Englishman said as he stood up with the book still carefully cradled in his hands.  He walked around the table to where Jenny sat, but stopped before getting too close to the computer in front of her.

 

“What’s wrong, Rupert, can’t take the heat?” Jenny teased as she gave him a flirtatious smile.  She shifted her position slightly to allow the Watcher a full view of her legs, as she slowly crossed them seductively.

 

“Yes…well, ah, I think this is as close to that…dread thing…as I wish to get,” Giles muttered. He tried to examine the computer screen, although the Gypsy, still clad in her evening dress, greatly distracted him. 

 

“This ‘thing’ won’t bite, Rupert…I promise,” the computer teacher said as she gestured at the computer screen, all the while her eyes twinkling with humor.

 

The Watcher huffed.  “Well, after that little incident with Moloch last year, I can’t truly say I could even be certain of that now, can I?”  After a moment, Giles relented with a sigh and sat on a creaking chair next to her, the book still cradled in his hands.

 

“The good news,” Jenny chimed in, continuing her analysis, “is that they’re believed to operate with a bit of the old mob mentality.  That’s to say they don’t have any particular long term goals or sophisticated agendas….they just like to pillage, murder, massacre, and have lots of bloody fun…you know, your average vampire thugs.”  The gypsy Amazon gazed at the screen again then added “with guns.”

 

“Ah, d-did you say…guns?”

 

“Yes, Rupert,” the computer teacher confirmed in a tone as though she was speaking to a child, “guns. You know, things that go ‘bang’?”

 

Giles tossed a frown at Jenny, who only smirked wickedly in return.  “Yes, of course,” he muttered.  “Vampires with guns.  Well, since this IS bloody America, I can’t say I’m surprised in the least.”  The Watcher sighed deeply as he placed his book on the table and drew out his handkerchief to wipe his spectacles.

 

“Hey, Mr. I’m-So-Stuffy-I-Eat-Scones, what’s up with the diss?” The Technopagqan snapped with a cocked eyebrow.

 

The Watcher placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose and said, “Well, it’s not meant to be, as you would say, a ‘diss’, Jenny.  It just seems that you Americans, such as our dear Mr. St. Wolf, have quite a fascination with firearms.  Although I suppose that’s only natural for a country that prides itself on its so-called masculinity.”

 

Jenny rolled her eyes.  “Uh-huh…this from a guy who didn’t hesitate to whip out his piece to dust a vamp less than an hour ago.”

 

Giles took a moment to glare at the Amazon, who now had a bemused expression on her face.  “I’ll have you know I considered that an act of pure necessity, as opposed to a bunch of Yank cowboys shooting guns all over the place and shouting….’Yippe-ki-yay’, or whatever it is they spout these days.”

 

“Sure, England, you keep telling yourself that.  You might actually believe it someday!”  The gypsy took a few more moments to do a search on her computer, before shaking her head and shutting down the terminal.  “Unless you’ve found something in one of your dusty volumes, I think we’re done.  Overall, I’d say we’re not in serious crisis mode…yet.”  The teacher then frowned.  “Of course, that depends on just how well-armed these vamps are…”

 

“And just how many there are exactly, and what they’re planning,” the Watcher added, finishing her statement.  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  “Well, I…suppose Buffy and the others are all right.  Of course, I’m assuming Mr. St. Wolf had them carry a bit more than their average assortment of weaponry,” he added with a touch of resignation, as he looked down at the two emergency gear bags they had stowed on the floor next to the table.  Both bags held an assortment of wooden stakes as well as holy water and spell-casting implements…in addition to two MP5A3 submachine guns equipped with laser sights, suppressors and extra magazines.

 

Jenny patted his back assuredly.  “Don’t worry about them, Rupert…they’ll be fine.”

 

“Oh, I’m quite sure of that…as long as they don’t do something foolish like burn down half the bloody town,” Giles sighed.  After that the Watcher and the Amazon shared a moment of silence.

 

The dark beauty pursed her lips in thought for a moment then smiled.  “You know,” she purred, in a slightly different tone of voice that instantly caught the librarian’s attention, “you were quite suave, the way you dealt with that vampire.  The way you handled that pistol almost reminded me of….”

 

“Er…James Bond?”  Giles asked in a hopeful tone.

 

“Nope,” the gypsy piped up in reply, then smirked.  “I was thinking more ‘Austin Powers.’”

 

A look of absolute dread crossed the Watcher’s face and he almost turned white, while the Technopagan’s eyes twinkled with amusement.  “Jenny, I beg you, for God’s sakes, never bring speak of that movie in my presence again!”  Giles shuddered for a moment, trying to forget the images seeping into his mind.  “I must admit I’m still traumatized after Buffy and Xander tricked me into watching that…that dreadful film.”

 

The dark Amazon laughed and her beautiful, lilting voice tickled Giles’ senses.  “Come on, Rupert, where’s your sense of humor?”  She then smiled…a very different kind of smile than the one before.  “As Buffy would say, you could be SO Austin Powers, the International Man of Mystery…” Before Giles knew what hit him, Jenny smoothly glided over to the librarian and sat on his lap, with an arm wrapped around his neck.  “And I can be your Ms. Kensington,” she added in a huskier voice, her lovely face just inches away from his, her dark luminous eyes boring into his own.

 

Giles sat frozen, completely caught off guard by his gypsy enchantress.  After a moment he inhaled the scent of her perfume once again, as the dark Amazon gently lifted the spectacles from his face and placed them on the top of the table.   She then turned to the Watcher again and leaned even closer, their faces now only a whisker’s length apart as she laid her other hand on his chest to detect his rapidly beating heart.  She shifted her position slightly and Giles felt her smooth, shapely behind clad in the shiny black leather dress press enticingly against his groin.

 

“Jenny…” Giles began, feeling uncertain.

 

“Shhhh…” The Technopagan quietly hushed Giles with a finger pressed to his lips, then glided her finger underneath his chin and drew his lips to hers…

 

The Watcher immediately found himself savoring the taste of his lover, his tongue exploring her mouth with a sudden fervent passion, as her own tongue reciprocated.  His right arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, their bodies melding together as they continued to kiss…until the gypsy unexpectedly broke the kiss and gazed at the Watcher.  “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

 

Giles blinked.  “What?” he asked in confusion, then looked down and noticed his left hand had slid down to rest on her outer thighs.

 

“Not there,” she spoke softly.  She gently took the Watcher’s hand in hers and guided it to her inner thighs, just below her skirt.  “There.”

 

The Englishman gazed at where his hand now rested, before he glanced at the gypsy’s face again, which now wore an impish smile.  While still smiling, she brought her sensuous face to the Watcher’s again and kissed him more deeply this time.

 

Giles’ hand explored the gypsy’s inner thighs, causing the Amazon to shudder and moan with pleasure.  He marveled at the silky smoothness of her skin, as his hand began to rub faster and further up her thighs…until his fingertips lightly brushed against hot, moist curls…

 

The gypsy’s mouth broke free from his as she gasped while she craned her head back in ecstasy, her eyes closed as she bore her neck to the Watcher, her throbbing pulse visible beneath her skin.  Giles gave in to his urges and clasped his mouth to the gypsy’s pulse, bringing another gasp and then a sigh of pleasure from the Technopagan as she gave herself over to her lover, her left arm hugging him tightly.  With her other arm she moved her hand to the top of her dress, and began to draw the leather material away from her shapely bosom…

 

“I SAY, WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?!! Is this a library or a brothel?!”

 

The lovers’ tryst was abruptly terminated as they opened their eyes and looked toward the source of the booming voice.  Standing at the library entrance were two distinguished-looking gentlemen in finely-tailored business suits carrying leather-bound briefcases.  One of them could have passed for a stuffy-looking Michael Caine.  He possessed graying hair and a prominent frown set upon his face as he glared at the couple, while the other was a slightly younger, nervous-looking man with brown hair, glasses and a large mustache.   Giles and Jenny quickly untangled and rose from the chair, with the Watcher quickly snatching up his spectacles from the table and straightening his tie, while the Amazon slowly moved toward the two weapon bags sitting by the table as she kept her eyes on the new arrivals, ready to act if there was trouble.

 

“Excuse me,” Giles began, clearing his throat as he hurriedly put on his glasses, his complexion turning a shade of red as he regarded the two men, “may I help you?”

 

“Mr. Rupert Giles?”  The older looking gentleman queried in a formal, well-cultured English accent, although it held the hint of a sneer as he addressed the librarian…something that wasn’t missed by the Watcher as his eyes narrowed slightly at the man’s tone of voice.

 

“Yes, that would be me.”

 

“I am Mr. Edward Trent, and this is my assistant, Mr. Patrick Nelson,” the elder man gestured to the gentleman standing next to him, whose eyes kept twitching back and forth between the librarian and the gypsy.  “We represent your…employers, and we have some ‘business matters’ to discuss.”

 

Giles raised his eyebrows momentarily in surprise.  “I see…you’re with the Watcher’s Council?”

 

Edward visibly grimaced at the mention of the name.  “Mr. Giles!  If you don’t terribly mind, it would be greatly appreciated if you were a bit more discreet in the presence of such company as this…woman,” he said as his eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of Jenny Calendar in her evening dress.  The gypsy’s own eyes narrowed darkly in return as she regarded the stuffy Englishman, deciding that she didn’t like the newcomer’s apparent attitude.  Wonder if he even likes women, she mused.

 

The librarian gritted his teeth and struggled to retain his composure.  “This woman you refer to just happens to be my companion, Jenny Calendar, and whatever your business is here, if indeed you represent the Council, I would appreciate it if you were to show proper manners and tell me why you are—“

 

“Jenny Calendar?!”  Edward’s voice nearly boomed in the library as he gazed at the woman incredulously, then turned to the Watcher and glared at him in silent accusation.  “You mean to tell us that this woman is indeed your…companion?!”

 

“Yes,” Giles said calmly, “she is.”  The Watcher’s reply brought a look of surprise from the gypsy…along with a smile.

 

“You mean to tell me you are indeed fraternizing with this woman,” Edward hissed, “who just happens to be a member of the gypsy tribe who placed the curse on the vampire Angelus!”

 

At the very mention of that, Giles’ blood ran cold along with Jenny’s.  Before Giles could digest what Edward had just said, the elder Englishman continued, noticing his surprised look.  “Yes, Mr. Giles, the Council has been keeping track of developments here in Sunnydale…and to say the least we are rather appalled at the apparent reports that your charge, the Slayer of all people, was engaged in a sordid affair with the vampire Angelus!  Frankly, I must say I am rather disappointed, and rather disgusted, at this revelation, not to mention that this all occurred under your watch!”

 

“Now, wait just one moment…”

 

“And if that wasn’t enough,” Edward continued, cutting off the Watcher, “now you tell me, and from what I saw rather plainly just a few moments ago, that you are engaged in a tawdry affair with this woman, this Jenny Calendar…who is in fact, from what we have learned through our sources, is a spy working for the Kalderash gypsy clan!”  The elderly man fired an accusatory look at the gypsy, before shaking his head in disgust.  “Truly Mr. Giles, you are a man of even lower taste than I could have—“

 

“IF you are finished with your condescending diatribe and your baseless insults, I suggest you get to the matter of why exactly you are here, before I toss you out on your arse!” Giles growled menacingly, his usual gentle demeanor long gone as he revealed a hint of his Ripper persona as he glared at Edward.  Although he was already beginning to wonder how exactly Edward knew of the information he had revealed, or more importantly, how much he really knew about what was going on, he wasn’t going to stand and tolerate anyone trying to insult his position as Buffy’s Watcher…or anyone trying to insult his lady love.

 

Edward stiffened momentarily as he regarded the Watcher, silently gulping as he noticed Rupert Giles’ furious expression…then gulped again when he noticed the dagger-like glare Jenny Calendar was shooting at him as well.  Rearing himself up slightly, Edward continued in a more professional tone of voice yet still devoid of warmth.  “Mr. Giles, on behalf of the Governing Council of Watchers, I am here as a Senior Watcher to make a progress report on the Slayer known as Elizabeth Anne Summers, and to also make a progress report on your actions as her Watcher.”  The elder Watcher’s eyes narrowed again.  “As you may or may not know, the Council is quite interested in your Slayer, considering that she, thus far, has survived longer than many of the previous Slayers in recorded history.  However, we are also rather concerned about this...Calendar woman,” he gestured in Jenny’s direction without bothering to look at her, “who we now know through our sources that she spied on both you and your Slayer.  But now…of all the blue bloody blazes, you now tell me you are in fact CONSORTING with this woman!”  Edward’s face nearly turned red as he bellowed out that last statement.

 

Jenny, who quite clearly had heard enough, angrily stalked toward the elder Watcher, causing his nervous assistant to visibly take several steps backward.  Edward’s eyes opened slightly wide in surprise as the gypsy got within an inch of his face.  “Mr. Trent, is it?” she hissed.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Good.  At first, I was going to ask if you’d ever considered switching to decaf, but instead I’m inclined to inquire whether you’ve ever consulted a proctologist.”

 

“A…proctologist?”  Edward blinked several times.  “What the devil are you talking about, Ms. Calendar…if, indeed, that is your name.”

 

Jenny smiled wickedly.  “Why, I thought it was obvious, Mr. Trent.  It appears you need surgery to remove that steel rod that’s shoved so far up your—“

 

“Jenny!”  The Amazon looked over at Giles in surprise, whose face now wore a pleading expression, “please…this is not the time.”

 

Jenny looked at her paramour, apparently confused.  “England, you’re not just going to let this troll badmouth you and Buffy, are you?”

 

“Just who are you calling a troll, missy?”  Edward growled, but then shut up when Jenny gave him a deadly glare.

 

“No, Jenny,” the Watcher continued, struggling to keep his emotions under control, “but there are more…civilized means to resolve this matter.”

 

Jenny just looked at her paramour, open-mouthed, while Edward harrumphed and said, “Well, Mr. Giles, at least you still have some apparent control of your faculties.”

 

“My faculties are just fine, Mr. Trent,” Giles snapped. “I will also have you know that Jenny poses no risk to me or my Slayer in any way, shape, or form.  In fact,” the Watcher paused for a moment, considering what he was about to say, then spoke, “she is no longer a part of her gypsy clan.  Her clan banished her after she….prevented a renegade gypsy from trying to harm Ms. Summers.”

 

Edward stared at the gypsy woman for a moment, whose face had become stoic and revealed nothing, before turning his attention back to the Watcher.  “And I presume you can prove this?”

 

The Watcher nodded.  “I have been making regular diary annotations and reports on all matters concerning my Slayer as is the duty and privilege of all Field Watchers.”

 

“Good, I would like to see everything you have written and reported pertaining to the Slayer,” the elder Watcher glared at the gypsy woman again before continuing, “in private.”

 

“Mr. Trent, I have already told you—“

 

“These are Watcher-related matters, Mr. Giles.  Matters that do not need to involve Ms. Calendar,” he said with a snide expression, before walking over to one of the large wooden tables in the library and setting his briefcase on top, unclasping it as his assistant Patrick followed suit.

 

Giles stared at Jenny momentarily, sadly before murmuring, “Jenny…perhaps it’s best if you go.”

 

A look of fury manifested on Jenny’s beautiful face as she glared at Giles.  She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.  “England, I’m not going any—“

 

“Jenny, please,” the Watcher continued, “for me?   I…I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

 

Jenny’s eyes grew cold before she strolled over and snatched up her belongings next to the table, before Giles could offer to hand them to her.  He walked after her as she marched toward the double doors.  “Jenny, p-please don’t take this the wrong way…”

 

Jenny whirled and glared at the Watcher just as she reached the double door, her face softening as she regarded the Watcher’s compassionate, pleading eyes.  “Who said I was taking it the wrong way, Rupert?  It seems pretty apparent Mr. Stuffy and his patsy over there don’t approve of me.”

 

“I don’t give a damn what they think, Jenny…and neither should you,” he noted softly.  “I’ll deal with them.  I don’t know how much they truly know of the situation, but I promise I’ll try to find out.  In the meantime, I’ll be sure they only know what they need to know.  You may also need to give Buffy a call tonight when she returns from patrol, and apprise her, St. Wolf, and the rest of the group what’s arisen here.”

 

The dark Amazon sighed for a moment, before gazing at the Watcher again, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice as she spoke, “It seems we never really do get a break…do we?”  Despite the bitter tone in her voice, Giles could also feel the sadness in it as well, which almost ripped through his heart.

 

“Jenny….”

 

“I better go, Rupert,” she interrupted him in a softer tone, her shoulders sagged slightly as she spoke.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Without further ado, she turned and walked out of the library.

 

The librarian watched her form walking alone down the darkened hallway through the small window in one of the doors, before he reluctantly turned away and headed back toward Mr. Trent and Mr. Nelson.

 

#

 

Las Pureza del Fuego

An abandoned Spanish missionary 3 miles north of Sunnydale

19:39 PST

 

“Hey, boss,” one of the burly vampire’s henchmen called from a lookout post, “looks like Lyle’s comin’ back.  Don’t see no one with ‘im, though.”

 

“That so?”  The towering seven-foot tall vampire, dressed in a long leather duster and a black Stetson hat, looked up from the corpse of a biker he’d drained before casually tossing the body to the muddy ground with a dull thud.  Then his features shifted from his game face back to that of a powerful-looking man with piercing dark eyes, a mustache and short black beard.  He gestured to several vampires who were merrily tossing several corpses of a biker gang they had quickly drained onto a large fiery pyre that had been constructed in the center of the ruined villa they now occupied.  “Throw another log on the fire, boys,” he called out with a chuckle.  The henchmen grabbed the corpse and threw it on top of the burning pile, the sweet sickly stench of burning corpses wafting up into the night sky.  With that, the head vampire strode toward the front entrance of the enclosed villa where the rumbling sound of a motorcycle could be heard approaching.

 

Tex Boyd, one of the leaders of the infamous Hell Riders, was the head of this particular vampire pack.  They had just ridden into the outskirts of Sunnydale that night and were now getting settled into the remains of an old Spanish missionary settlement once known as Las Pureza del Fuego.  The site had once witnessed sacrilegious practices by the monks and unspeakable tortures inflicted upon the native Indians that had once lived in the area.  It had long been abandoned more than a century ago and was now in a partial state of ruin, its lone, weather-worn bell tower jutting up like a grasping hand from the partially-collapsed roofs and crumbling walls.  It had since become a hangout for drunken college kids and rowdy biker gangs, such as the unlucky group who had become the victims that night when the Hell Riders had rode in and proceeded to feast on whatever warm-blooded bodies they could find.

 

Tex looked up into the night sky for a moment, observing the low hanging clouds illuminated by flashes of lightning, the blood from his last meal coursing though his undead veins.  “Ahhh, nights like this, it’s good to be a vampire,” he mused out loud.  His brief reverie was interrupted as a Harley-Davidson-vintage chopper rumbled through the entrance’s crumbling archway and came to a skidding stop within a few feet of the towering vampire, kicking up mud onto his leather duster.

 

The head vampire frowned at the mud splattered on his outfit, before glaring at the chopper’s rider.  “Dammit, Lyle…do I have to teach you how to park your ride?”

 

“Uh, sorry, Tex,” Lyle mumbled, as he shut off the motorcycle and footed the kickstand in place, before getting off to stand in front of Tex Boyd.  The comparatively shorter vampire removed his hat in a gesture of respect before continuing.  “Boss…I got some news about the Slayer…”

 

An evil grin that would have made Satan proud flashed across Tex Boyd’s face.  “Ah, I reckon you got some good news for me then, yes?”

 

“Uhhh…” Lyle nervously fidgeted with his hat in his hands.  “Well, Tex, you see…we did find the Slayer, just like you told me and the boys to do.  Wasn’t that hard.  We had a little trap ready for her, see?  And….”

 

The devilish grin disappeared from Tex’s face.  “And?”

 

“Well…she wasn’t alone.  She had some company with her.  A big guy tryin’ to act like he was a gin-u-wine buckaroo like us, some old fancy-dressed city slicker, and a real fine-lookin’ lady who was damn near unshucked.  Had a bit of a mouth on her though.”

 

The grin returned to the giant vampire’s face.  “Ah, so I take it the boys are runnin’ just a lil’ late because they’re feasting on the leftovers, eh?”

 

“Uh, not exactly, Tex. You see…they actually went and…did a number on us.”

 

“WHAT?!!”

 

Lyle inwardly cringed as Tex’s voice boomed throughout the ruined settlement, surprising all the other vampires who now turned toward the conversation with keen interest.

 

“Well, you see, boss,” Lyle called Tex by the respectful title of “boss” in a vain effort to defuse the big man’s boiling temper, “These weren’t just regular dudes.  The big man who looked like he was all friendly with the Slayer pulled out some glowing pigsticker and sliced Buck in half like he was a weed.  The city-slicker jerked a pistol and, I swear on this, fired twice and dusted Floyd like he weren’t nuthin’.”  Lyle’s eyes went wide as he continued to babble. “And that fine-lookin’ lady I mentioned whipped up some serious mojo and shot thunderbolts right from her eyes!  She burned up Carson like a stick of kindlin’.  Oh, and…Farley got toasted by the Slayer.  She stuck one of her twigs in ‘im, and…” The vampire’s mouth quickly shut after he noticed the glare Tex gave him.

 

“I see,” Tex drawled, as he continued to glare at Lyle, who was now beginning to look rather uncomfortable.  “And just how did YOU manage to escape, hmmm?”

 

Lyle quickly painted an ass-kissing grin on his face.  “Well, you see, boss, I had a plan.  Everyone knows I’ve always got a plan.  You see, since plan A didn’t work, I thought I’d try plan B, and figure that if I led them here, that way we could ambush them, and…uh…that was my plan.”

 

The big burly vampire looked over Lyle’s shoulder before looking back at him.  “Well, now, I don’t see no sign of them, Lyle.  Maybe it’s because you hightailed it out of Dodge so damn quick like a yellowbelly, they probably didn’t even think you were worth chasin’!”  Fire almost appeared to be dancing in Tex’s eyes.

 

Lyle stood alone before the towering vampire for a long, silent moment, quietly wondering if this indeed was going to be the last night of his un-dead existence…before Tex simply shrugged and spoke “Oh well…guess that proves that Hack Mutt feller, or whatever his name is, wasn’t lyin’ after all.”  The vampire leader turned away from Lyle momentarily and looked at the several dozen vampires behind him, with a deadly grin on his face.  “Guess we’ll just have to pull out the big guns, right boys?”    The vampires all whooped and hollered in agreement.  As though to further punctuate Tex Boyd’s words, one of the vampire lookouts shouted that a large sedan and a truck were approaching the mission.  The vampires instantly became alert and tense, before the lookout reported that the vehicles had stopped and were flashing their headlights.

 

“That’s them,” Tex said with a nod of acknowledgement.  “Give ‘em the signal and have them come to the gate.”  One of the Hell Riders flashed a signal lamp back at the trucks to move up.  Soon the hum of the sedan and the truck’s engine grew louder as they approached the front of the old mission, their headlights casting stark yellow light and contrasting shadows against the crumbling walls before the vehicles came to a halt. 

 

The front passenger door on the sedan swung open and an average sized man with a medium build stepped out, wearing a jacket and boots.  His dark hair and eyes seemed to blend in with the night as he looked around warily for a second, his right hand resting by the Stechkin pistol on his belt, before he motioned with his other hand.  Several men, armed with folding-stock AKM assault rifles, got out of the sedan and truck and took up guard positions around the two vehicles, while the clean-shaven man with short black hair approached the gate where the Hell Riders were clustered, with Tex out in front.

 

“Well, well, well!”  Tex called out merrily to the armed man who stood warily before him.  “If it ain’t mister….hmm.”  Tex raised an eyebrow as he regarded the individual who regarded him coolly. “What did you say your name was again?”

 

“We do not know each other, obiri,” the man snapped in a clear, crisp Russian accent. “But you may call me Vladimir.”

 

“Vladimir, eh?” Tex drawled in a bemused tone.  “You a Russkie, boy?  Hell, you sound like one...look like one, too.”  He then took a sniff and winced. “Shit son, you sure as hell smell like one!  Been hitting the ol’ vodka pretty hard, ain’t ya?”

 

Vladimir stiffened somewhat for a moment as he coolly regarded the head vampire.  “I don’t drink vodka, obiri.  It’s bad for my liver. Perhaps you have detected it on one of my associates behind me.”  The Russian turned to glare at his compatriots, who all momentarily shrugged before he turned back to the tall black-clad vampire in front of him.  Vladimir reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, causing Tex to warily regard him before his hand slowly pulled out a small, silver cigarette case.

 

“I’m surprised you even know that I would be Russian to begin with, Mr. Boyd,” Vladimir said smoothly as he popped open the case and carefully withdrew a cigarette from the holder, tapped it twice and proceeded to light it with an elegant butane lighter.  “Or that you would even know what vodka is, considering that you are a Yankee buckaroo.  It seems you are actually a bit more, how shall we say, intelligent than some of your dog compatriots are.”  He took a long breath of the cigarette before exhaling it off to the side.

 

Tex’s eyes narrowed with a deadly glint.  “For a mortal and a Russkie, you sure got a mouth, son.  And the irony sure as shit ain’t lost on me with that cigarette you’re puffing, but know this: If you got a big mouth, I imagine you got a pretty big tongue rolled up in there too.  Say any shit about me or my boys again, and I’m gonna rip that tongue out from your mouth and eat it, along with the rest of you, am I clear?”

 

Vladimir paused for a moment from enjoying his cigarette, as he considered the vampire’s words before sighing.  If he was afraid of Tex, he was certainly careful not to let it show. “We’re wasting time.  Let us get down to business, da?

 

“Sounds good to me, amigo.  I imagine you got some gifts for me on behalf of Mr. Hack Mutt, am I right?”

 

Vladimir nodded and snapped out several commands in Russian to his compatriots. The men shouldered their weapons and went over to open the back of the truck and the sedan.  Soon several crates and ammo boxes were brought over and set down in front of the vampires.  The lids were then carefully pried off, revealing the weapons inside that were so new, the vampires including Tex and Lyle could smell the fresh coat of gun oil on the parts.  Vladimir’s men then pulled a weapon out of each crate, assembled them, inspected them, and loaded each weapon with a distinctive metallic sound before laying them out for inspection.

 

“Here we are,” Vladimir announced proudly. “Fresh from the factory in Mother Russia—some new tools to help you with your particular task.  I like to call them tools, because as Sun Tzu once wrote, ‘weapons are tools of ill omen’.”  He bent into the first crate and pulled out what at first looked like a short, stubby assault rifle with a folding skeletal stock.  “PP-19 Bizon submachine gun, this version chambered for the West’s 9mm Parabellum rounds, instead of the standard 9mm Makarov.  This cylinder magazine here,” he pointed to a large removable cylinder under the barrel, “functions as both a handgrip and holds sixty-four rounds of ammunition.  With this, you can clear out a house and still have enough rounds left to pick off any bodies still twitching without having to swap out the magazine.” He moved on to the next crate and lifted up a very distinctive-shaped assault rifle.  “This is the AK-74M, standard assault rifle of the Russian armed forces.  Uses plastic furniture instead of the wooden furniture like the old AK-47 and has a folding buttstock.  Fires a 5.45mm high velocity round from a thirty-round magazine.  Good for penetration and for making very ugly wounds.”  Vladimir then went onto the next two weapons displayed, continuing to talk smoothly as though he were a car salesman as he pointed out the heavy machine gun with belted ammo laying near it.  “Kalashnikov PKM machine gun, fires 7.62x54mm ammunition. Good for suppressive fire, drilling holes in cars and buildings, and of course, crowd control, da?  And last but not least,” an evil smirk appeared on Vladimir’s face as he gazed at the assembled rocket launcher.  “An RPG-7 rocket-propelled grenade launcher.  Can be taken down into two parts for storage or easy transport, and can fire an almost limitless variety of ammunition ranging from 70 to 105mm in size for any occasion.  Even some modern tanks cannot stand up to this piece of portable shoulder-fired artillery.”  Vladimir took another puff from his cigarette and slowly exhaled, making little smoke rings.  “Satisfied?”

 

Tex bent down and picked up the PP-19 Bizon and the AK-74, one in each hand and examined them for a moment.  Seeing that the safety catch on both guns were rather simple, and similar to the old AK-47, he had no trouble flicking the safeties off of each before he spied one of his henchmen out of the corner of his eye.

 

 “Hey, Cody, stand right there for a moment, why don’t you?” Tex drawled out loud to the vampire who casually shrugged. Without warning, Tex turned around and held the guns, one in each hand, and fired off a deafening volley of gunfire that ripped through Cody’s chest, sending spurts of blood flying as he was knocked to the ground.

 

Vladimir stood there quietly for a moment, his cigarette resting between his fingers as he surveyed the scene before him.  While he considered himself the epitome of a cool, collected businessman, doing business with certain…unpredictable personas, such as the vampire Tex Boyd, gave him reason for concern.  He didn’t even dare draw a breath before Cody got up, blood staining his ruined chest, and mock whined.  “Why’d you do that Tex, you just ruined my shirt!”  And with that, all the vampires started howling with laughter.

 

Tex chuckled darkly himself as he casually tossed both of the guns to Lyle, who caught them somewhat clumsily.  “Not bad, Vladimir, not bad at all.  For a mortal and a Russkie, you know how to deliver.  Although speaking frankly, I’ll think I’ll stick with these.”  He drew back his duster slightly to reveal two fully loaded Uzi submachine guns hanging on his belt, as though he were some sort of deranged gunslinger.  With that the vampire made a gesture to his henchman.  “Give ‘em room, boys.”  With that Vladimir nodded in return and casually dropped the cigarette to the ground, smothering it with the heel of his boot as he barked orders to his men to unload the rest of the weapons and ammunition from the truck.

 

“Uh, boss?”  Tex turned back to his sometime-partner and now-henchman, who now wore a look of bewilderment on his face.  “Can I talk to you for a moment?”  The leader of the Hell Riders sighed in annoyance before moving away from where Vladimir and his henchmen were offloading the guns from the trucks.  When they were a little further away, Lyle leaned in and said, “That Hack Mutt feller, he told you about what was going on with the Slayer and her pals?”

 

A small smirk curled up on the taller vampire’s face.  “That he did, Lyle, that he did.  I thought he was just spinning tall tales, but it seems what he was sayin’ about what was goin’ on here in Sunnydale was on the money after all.  Of course, I didn’t want to bet the odds on the house that he was right, so I needed to make sure.  And that you did, Tex, my long-time amigo.  That you did.”

 

Lyle blinked at the man who had often rode with him and his now long-gone brother Tector, unwilling to believe that he’d actually used him in such a fashion.  “But, Tex, you never told me or the boys about all that, how could you—“

 

“Lyle?”

 

“Uh, yeah, boss?”

 

Tex got within an inch of the vampire’s face and hissed, “Shut…up.”

 

Lyle gulped.  “Right, boss.”  Lyle went quiet for a moment, before he found some courage.  “Uh, Tex?  How can you really be sure this Hack Mutt, or whoever…or whatever he is, is on the up and up?  I mean, we haven’t even met this hombre face to face yet…and truth be to tell, boss… something about this feller gives me the willies.”

 

Tex sneered, “What’s wrong, Lyle, you need me to tuck you in now with a little teddy bear?  Sheee-yit, son, grow some damn spine.   After you and that Hack-Mutt feller help me and the boys skin the Slayer and her little gang, we are gonna rule the Hellmouth, and after that…” The vampire’s face took on a wistful expression as his mind drifted off in thought, before he smiled darkly.  “The west will truly become the Wild West…once again.”  With that, he allowed a self-satisfied chuckle to rumble from deep within.

 

#

 

Haight Street

San Francisco, California

19:45 PST

 

A fairly chill wind blew through the bustling streets of the famous Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, carrying with it the faint stench of brine blowing in from the Bay.  At this time of night, the district was alive with the sounds and sights of the city.  People of all stripes, from partygoers to punks, stall vendors and passerby, walked the streets of what had once been one of the centers of the counter-cultural movement in America during the 1960’s.  Nowadays it served as a reminder of San Francisco’s colorful past.  For the lovely young cream-skinned woman who strode past the well-preserved Victorian homes that dotted Haight Street, it felt almost like home to her.  Indeed, she would have felt right at home if it weren’t for the fact that she had a nagging suspicion that someone was following her…

 

Paige Matthews shivered slightly from the breeze as she walked down the historic street, wrapping the denim jacket more tightly around her shoulders.  She mentally scolded herself, yet again, for not wearing something heavier than her silk shirt, denim miniskirt and high heels. She flipped a strand of her raven hair away from her deep brown eyes as she glanced over her shoulder, looking again for a familiar face that she swore had followed her since she had gotten off the bus a few blocks before.

 

Oh jeez, Paige, paranoid much?  Get over it already!  Truth be told though, she didn’t know why she was feeling so jumpy to begin with.  Ever since she’d been a child, Paige had always been the independent sort. Free-spirited and adventurous, she always loved scoping out new things and places. Well…that plus she readily admitted she, at one time anyway, had been a bit of a brat and a hell-raiser, too. Her wild and sordid lifestyle in high school had often been at odds with her fairly conservative Catholic parents, at least until the fateful day when both her parents died in a crash…

 

Paige took a slight gulp then exhaled, the searing pain of that moment still singed her mind.  It’d been several years now, but every time she thought of it the memories came flooding back to her. That oncoming car that her adopted father saw too late, of her own mind screaming of the imminent death that was to come, and then…next thing she kne