Author: Steve711 - Steve Pantovich

E-mail Address:

Title: The Chronicles of Wanderer and the Slayer – Slayer Run, Part 2

Part One: Libyan Assault

Part Two: The Long Way Home

Part Three: The War of the Sections

Epilogue

Copyrighted : October 2000

Category: Crossover

Rating: For Mature Readers – Depictions of Violence, Sexual Situations, Foul Language as well as Descriptions of Horrific Acts

Spoilers: A few, but who cares?

Keywords: X-Files/Highlander/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossover with many guest stars.

The following TV series have been included in the story. Disclaimers appear at the end with the cast list.

Pretender

A-Team

Star Trek the Next Generation/Deep Space Nine/Voyager

Gargoyles

Xena, Warrior Princess

La Femme Nikita

Forever Knight

The following novel series have been included in the story. Disclaimers appear at the end with the character list

Casca - The Eternal Mercenary

The Executioner

Able Team

Phoenix Team

Bureau 13

The Destroyer

Conan the Barbarian

Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan

Red Sonja

Summary: A madman tries to destroy the world, a Watcher wants revenge against the Slayerettes, a covert government agency is out for blood, and a vampire army wants to kill the Slayer and control the Hellmouth. All-in-all, it’s just a typical, ho-hum workweek for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Wanderer, and their crew.

All disclaimers appear at the end of the story.

Any character 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 can be distributed freely so long as it is kept in its entirety, with all notices and copyright information intact.

The characters Wanderer/Steven St. Wolf, Frank Iverson, Brother Aaron, Robert McCallister, The Knights of the Order of the Grail, Randi Jessup, Brian Jessup and this story are Steve Pantovich’s. Anyone wishing to use them, please contact the Wandererverse panel at the Wandererverse Revival Yahoo Group.

The character, Robin Goodfellow is the property of Mike Weyer and used with his permission.

Comments and criticisms are appreciated; please post to the above referenced e-mail address.

Author's Note's: When Steve started to write this story, he decided to change some things concerning several canon (characters from TV series, movies, or novels) characters.

X-Files Mulder and Scully are married and Immortal - so Non-Relationshippers beware.

Highlander: It was Steve’s view that Richie Ryan shouldn't have died at the end of the fifth season, so here he hasn't.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Buffy is an Immortal and this series splits from the second season show, Innocence.

Casca, the Eternal Mercenary: Various of Casca's friends are Immortal including the love of his life, Lida.

The Executioner: Mack Bolan is an Immortal. How else do you think he survived dying all those times?

The Destroyer: Remo Williams is also an Immortal and the Avatar of the Hindu God Shiva.

Steve's thanks:

I'd like to thank the people who helped me in writing this story. It took the better part of seven years to complete, but I think that it was worth it. They stuck with me, helping and encouraging me to complete it. They are:

Goblin214, Doug Elder, Rebekah Sandell, Mark Safransky, Dalton Spence, Mike Weyer, Tim Knight, and Jack Caynon. Thank you all for your time and input on this story.

I'd also like to thank all those great fan fiction writers out there, whose stories I've enjoyed. They showed me that I could let my imagination run. (Where it went I don't want to know :>))

Thanks and here's the Story. Enjoy.

Relief Pitcher’s note:

In memoriam: It should go without saying that I would like to dedicate this story to a great writer, Steve Pantovich. Steve passed away in April 2007 due to complications from pneumonia. Since I worked with him over the years on his stories both as his editor and his friend, I’ve been asked to step in to finish this most-ambitious novel, the sequel to his crowning achievement, Calling Out the Clan, from his award-winning fan fiction universe, the Wandererverse. Steve wrote over 550 pages of this book…I’m just stepping in to bring it on home for the big guy. An additional note to mention is that you’ll find that the writing style in this story a bit different from Steve’s. He was married to the use of present tense in his writing. However, I never liked his use of present tense due to all the linguistic gyrations it requires when you write something this big. Thus, I have converted the prose to past tense. Although the gist of his story has not changed, it should be easier for you to read it. Another note is that there are some areas that have been enhanced by me that differ from Steve’s previous drafts. Some items were never completed by Steve and I tried to deal with them based on conversations we had when he was planning these unfinished scenes. Other changes have to do with making St. Wolf less of a ‘Gary Stu’ (a character that tends to completely overshadow canon characters) than he was in Steve’s previous works. Steve also had indicated that he wanted to change this aspect of the character and I tried to do that for him in a way in which it would have made Steve comfortable.

Anyway, here’s to you, Steve. I hope you enjoy it! With fondest regards, from your friend, Jack.

Also, I would like to add my thanks to Ruth Longhurst, my fabulous beta reader who helped me tighten this work for your enjoyment. Thank you, love! Finally, I’d like to thank the Wandererverse Editorial Panel for its encouragement and support.

Incredibly, more than a month and a half later, I’ve completed Part 2 of this story. Because the transition from the adventure in Libya to the coming storm in Sunnydale was so long, I decided to call the part “The Long Way Home.” Now settle back and have some fun!

Jack Caynon, February 26, 2008.

PART TWO

The Chronicles of the Wanderer and the Slayer

Slayer Run

The Long Way Home

Part 19 - Meeting Old Friends

(I Don’t Think Lazarus Ever Had Any)

July 22nd 20:00 PST - July 23rd - 06:00 Local

Lac Yora

As the sun rose over the desert to the east, Genevieve Dumas looked to the north, her blue eyes moistened by her concern for her husband of more than twenty years. At her side was her sister-in-law, Constance La Croix, who said, “If more than a lock of Pierre’s hair is out of place on his precious head, Anton will rue the day that he shanghaied my son into the Legion.”

Genevieve turned to glare at the other woman and showed her annoyance. “Oh, do be quiet, Constance! Pierre is a grown man! He decided to become a Legionnaire on his own. Anton and Sean had nothing to do with it.”

Constance snorted and shook her head. “You don’t believe that, Genevieve! Pierre always looked up to Anton and his pet Irishman like they were superheroes. How can a mother compete with that?”

“By allowing her son to live his own life,” Genevieve said. The two women then turned toward the front door of the Dumas home and went inside. They entered the kitchen and began to prepare a meal for Genevieve’s three children. After a few minutes, her youngest daughter, nine year old Claire, entered the kitchen and smiled at her mother.

“Here’s your cereal, ma petite,” Genevieve said as she passed a bowl to the little girl.

“Thank you, Mama,” Claire said then began to spread some honey on her oatmeal. “Good morning, Tante Constance. When will Papa and Uncle Sean be back?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Genevieve answered as she saw her son, fourteen year old Carson, enter the kitchen. She smiled at her little man and offered him a cup of tea from the counter.

“Is there any news about Papa?” Carson asked as he sat down next to Claire.

“No,” Genevieve replied just as a man in a Legion uniform knocked on the rear screen door. Genevieve saw that it was the unit clerk and said, “Please come in, Corporal-chef Kelly. Would you like some tea?”

He shook his head and said, “No thank you, Madame Dumas. I just thought I should inform you that the Libyan’s Third Border Guards crossed over last night. However, the entire regiment was captured and the hale and slightly wounded Libyans were sent back across the border early this morning.”

“Any wounded on our side?” Genevieve asked.

“No, only the Libyans suffered any casualties,” Kelly said.

“How many were killed?” Constance asked with a smug smirk on her handsome face.

“The Jaguar only killed six hundred of them, Madame,” Kelly said. “But the Libyans have claimed over a thousand dead.”

“And we didn’t lose a single Legionnaire?” Genevieve said. “How can that be, Corporal?”

“I don’t know, Madame,” Kelly admitted. “But the Colonel told me to tell you that he shall return to you shortly and to expect the arrival with him of an old friend.”

“Who could that be?” Genevieve wondered.

“I don’t know, Madame. But the Colonel seemed to be in a very good mood when he radioed us.”

“What about Lieutenant La Croix?” Constance asked.

“Lieutenant La Croix is on his way back to Lac Yora with the Colonel, Madame. Now, if you please, I shall return to my duties.”

Genevieve then escorted him out the screen door, thanked the man, and he took his leave of them.

Constance breathed a sigh of relief as Genevieve hugged her tightly. “Genevieve, did you hear? Thank God. Pierre is all right!”

As Genevieve’s eldest daughter, fifteen year old Angelique strolled into the kitchen, Constance’s mood changed like the quicksilver that streaked the edges of her chestnut brown hair. “When Pierre returns to my side, I believe I shall have a long talk with him. Perhaps this time he will listen to reason!”

Genevieve cocked a well-manicured eyebrow at her obstinate friend. “Constance, behave! You cannot embarrass him in front of his men.”

“I won’t, Genevieve. But I *will* try to convince him to leave this insanity that they call the Legion. Wasn’t losing my Robert enough of a sacrifice for me to bear?”

Genevieve gave Anton’s brother’s wife another hug and quietly agreed. “It was Constance. However, Pierre’s a grown man. He should make his own decisions.”

Constance snorted loudly. “Don’t you think I know that Genevieve? I am not senile, you know! I simply want him to find love, to get married and have his own family. I don’t want him to die in a battle and leave a grieving wife to mourn for him in front of their children.”

Moments later, the two women heard the sound of heavy vehicles approaching. They raced outside and saw Anton’s AFV roll to a stop in front of the nearby headquarters building. From the distance, Genevieve saw Anton, Sean and a dozen strangers climb out of the vehicle. “Who are those people who came with Anton?”

“Merde!” Constance muttered under her breath as she recognized their uniforms. < What are *they* doing here? >

Genevieve turned to her and asked, “What is it, Constance?”

“Those people with Anton and Sean. They shouldn’t be here.”

Constance’s consternation caused Genevieve to feel unsettled in the pit of her stomach. “Who are they?”

“They belong to the Order,” her friend hoarsely whispered as Anton and Sean strolled toward them with a young man and young woman in tow.

When the quartet was only a few yards away, Genevieve recognized the young man’s face and whimpered softly. “It can’t be him! He died fifteen years ago!”

“Who, Genevieve?” Constance asked.

“The young man next to Anton—it’s Carson!”

Constance gulped. “N-no…it’s not possible!”

However, when Genevieve realized she was indeed wide awake, her face beamed. “It IS him! I can’t believe it!”

A moment later, Anton grabbed his wife and hugged her tenderly. When he felt how stiff she was in his arms, he leaned back and looked into her face. When he saw what had captured her attention, he grinned. “I see that you recognize our old friend.”

“B-but I’d heard he had died.”

“My death was faked, Genevieve,” St. Wolf said then gave her a hug. “I now work for a covert operations group called Section Seven.”

Genevieve raised her hands to caress the face of the dashing young man who had served with her husband then kissed him on his left cheek. Steve smiled at her and returned the kiss in classic Gallic style on both of her cheeks.

“Oh Carson, I’m so happy that you’re still alive. I cried for a week when I heard how you ‘died’. Why didn’t you contact us before this?”

“I couldn’t, Genevieve. My superiors wanted Carson Jamieson dead, so he officially died that day. I now go by the name of Steven St. Wolf.”

“St. Wolf?” Genevieve then smiled at him. “Somehow…it seems to fit you well. So why have you returned to us now?”

“Anton helped me with a small problem and he asked if I could spare some time and visit you.”

“A *small* problem did you say? What did it have to do with the Libyans?” Constance demanded.

Steve turned to the shrill voice that he still remembered from long ago. “Hello, Constance.”

“So tell me Sir Knight, what are you doing in Chad?”

“You know who they are?” Anton asked.

Constance fixed the Colonel with a glare. “But of course, Anton. The Order is well known to my family,” Constance said with a hint of iron in her voice. “I’ve lost both my father and brother to it and its knight’s insane quests.” Then she turned toward St. Wolf and examined his rank insignia. “So I see you are a Knight Lieutenant—most impressive,” Constance muttered and added, “Although if you are here to take my Pierre into the Order, I shall kill you.”

St. Wolf grinned good-naturedly at the woman. “That might be a tall order to fill, Constance.”

Constance responded with a shark’s smile and said, “There can only be one.” Then she turned away and sashayed toward her son, leaving a disquieted St. Wolf to watch her go.

“Oh man…she’s one dangerous woman,” Steve muttered.

“What did she mean by saying she lost her father and brother?” Sean asked.

“Constance’s family must have served in the Order. Normally, we aren’t so lucky as to have a mission result in so few casualties. Quite often, especially if we’re facing a demon or vampire master, many more of us die.”

“Even the Immortals?” Anton asked.

“Even us,” St. Wolf replied. “When Famine was put down, we lost forty Immortal Knights to him. Each man and woman freely gave their lives to put that thing down.”

“Immortals?” Genevieve asked, looking confused. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Anton looked at his old friend and St. Wolf nodded. Then Anton took Genevieve by her right arm and began to explain what had occurred in Libya.

As the married couple began to talk in earnest, St. Wolf asked O’Rourke, “Can you take me to a telephone, Sean?”

“Certainly, Carson; it’s this way.” Sean then led St. Wolf to a nearby office. When they entered the room, a private snapped to attention. “Private, please leave this room for a few minutes,” Sean said. The private then nodded and immediately left the room.

St. Wolf picked up the phone and dialed Iverson Air’s Cairo office. After a few minutes someone answered the phone and said, “Iverson Air Freight. May I help you?”

“This is Wanderer 7-0-0. I need my plane at the Lac Yora airfield as soon as it’s ready to lift off.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Your jet will be airborne in approximately two hours. Its ETA will be ninety minutes.”

“Why the two hour delay?”

“There is air traffic congestion due to a bomb scare at the Cairo Air Terminal, sir.”

“All right, then. Please transfer me to Frank’s office in New York via the secure line.”

“Before I transfer you, what is your destination?”

“Paris,” St. Wolf said. The other person confirmed the destination then attempted to connect St. Wolf to Iverson’s personal line. After a few minutes, Frank Iverson answered the call.

“Who in the hell is this?” Frank boomed while a laughing Cassandra was heard in the background.

“Hello, Frank. You and Cassie enjoying a well-earned night home alone?”

“Steve?! What in the hell is going on over there? I heard from the ops manager in Sunnydale that you took a Fox Jet for a jump into Libya. What in the hell would you do a thing like that?”

“Some nutcase decided to destroy the world, so we had to stop him.”

“We? Who exactly is the ‘we’ you are referring to?” Frank asked.

“Merlin and Marc were visiting me in Sunnydale, so I borrowed two hundred knights from them and attacked Corvo and his ‘Swords of Allah’ in Libya.”

“Did any of the kids get hurt?”

“I only brought Buffy along, Frank. She wasn’t hurt, thank the Gods. But we lost Francois Renhard when the Libyans attacked us. I’m taking him back to Paris to bury him next to Yvonne.”

“Francois is dead? Dammit all to hell!” Then Frank sighed deeply. “I’ll tell Jacques and Terry the bad news and fly them home to Paris.”

“Don’t bother, Frank. Colonel Sanchez has already told them. However, do arrange that flight so they can get to Mindy’s side as soon as possible. Now, I just have to explain to Jacques DeClare what happened. Got any ideas?”

“Yeah, start praying,” Frank said wryly. “I sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he finds out that you raided Libya, again.”

“Thanks for the sympathy, buddy,” a bemused St. Wolf said, then sobered. “Will you be at the funeral?”

“I can’t go. I have to settle some legal matters here with the Navy JAG.”

“Do you need my help?”

“No. Sydney is already on the case; he doesn’t see any problems.”

“What happened?”

Frank sighed. “Steve, I’ll never understand this, but Donovan helped to clear me of the Franzetti murder.”

“You don’t mean the same Donovan that tried to beat the hell out of you in Los Angeles?”

“The same. He and his partner found the evidence needed to clear me and the JAG wants to make it official. Steve, the Navy even is going to issue a formal apology to me!”

“Good luck my friend. I’m sure Dana’s mother will be happy to see that you’re still alive.”

“You know,” Frank whispered into the phone, “I never told her that I was still alive.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, Frank.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, good buddy. Just be sure to watch your neck with DeClare.”

“Thanks, pal, be seeing you,” St. Wolf said then hung up. Moments later, he dialed another number and waited until Giles picked up the telephone on the other end.

“St. Wolf residence, may I help you?”

“Giles, this is Steve.”

“Steven! Is Buffy all right?”

St. Wolf grinned at that. ‘No doubt who comes first in that Englishman’s mind,” he mused. “She’s fine, Rupert,” he said then gave the Watcher a full report. “We were able to stop Corvo in time, but I lost one of my knights. We’re taking him home to be buried next to his wife.”

“Please give my condolences to his family, Steven. When will you return home?”

“Sunday or Monday at the latest. Why?”

“You have some friends visiting. They are very eager to see you.”

St. Wolf sighed resignedly. “Who is it?”

“Jack Ryan is here with three companions.”

“Ryan! What has he told you?”

“I wouldn’t fret about it. I’m sure it will keep.”

“Good, then I’ll see you in three days.” Then the two men said their goodbyes and terminated the connection.

Steve turned to Sean and said, “My flight will be here in two and a half hours. Can Francois be placed in cold storage until then?”

“We’ll put him in the morgue until your plane arrives. Do you want a casket for him?”

“One of the metal ones that the Legion uses to transport dead Legionnaires will do, Sean. Oh,” he said and snapped his fingers, I need access to a satellite phone. Can you provide one with a scrambler?”

“Of course,” Sean said. “I’ll just go over to the Intelligence Officer and ‘borrow’ his.”

Steve grinned at his old friend. “I see you’re still the same old thieving Irishman, eh?”

“Now, whatever gave you that idea?” Sean quipped then laughed and gave St. Wolf a hearty slap on the back.

*****

July 22nd 22:00 PST

Home of Steve St. Wolf, Sunnydale, CA

Giles breathed a sigh of relief, whipped his glasses of the bridge of his nose, and wiped an errant tear from the corner of his left eye. < Thank the Gods, she’s safe! > Then he quickly composed himself and walked out of the office to find a sea of expectant faces.

“What’s the situation in Libya?” Ryan asked.

“The good news is that Corvo and all of his men are dead. The virus has been destroyed and Buffy and the rest are safe and sound in Lac Yora, Chad.”

“Why are they in Lac Yora?” Colonel Franklin asked.

“They received assistance from the 1st DREP of the French Foreign Legion. The Legion Colonel, an Anton Dumas, is their host until their plane lands. But there was some bad news as well.”

“How bad?” Jenny asked.

“Steve lost one of his men when the Libyan Third Border Guards attacked his column as it fled from Libya. He also lost Benjamin Armari and his entire family. They were killed by Corvo before they could rescue them.”

“How badly did he maul the Libyans?” Major Ritter wondered.

“According to the Libyans’ own estimates, his group killed four hundred and wounded another three hundred. The French Foreign Legion accounted for another six hundred dead and eight hundred wounded.”

Jack glared at Giles, not believing what he’d just heard. “What in the hell are you people?” He demanded as he looked around the living room.

Giles sighed and Jenny flashed a look at her Englishman, silently telling him to use their predetermined cover story. He then turned to Ryan and said, “We’re the latest incarnation of a force that has existed since the dawn of humanity. This force has protected humanity since the stone age.”

Ryan scoffed at that. “What!? You must be joking!”

“At times, I wish I were,” Giles said. “However, it is all true, Mr. Ryan. Indeed, the people that you see standing here before you have fought and driven back the ‘Darkness’ numerous times, saving the world in the process.”

“Even these kids?” Walter ‘Gunner’ Sanchez muttered in disbelief.

“Especially these young men and women,” Giles answered. “They’ve been the guardians of this town for the last two years and have been able to hold their own against the vampires and demons that frequent this town.”

“And Carson lets them fight?” Colonel Franklin asked.

“He doesn’t ‘let’ us do anything,” Cordelia snapped. “We were here fighting these things long before Steve came here.”

“Look, kid...” Gunner began, but before he could utter another word, he found himself lifted off the floor by Cordelia. Jack, John and Tex then watched awestruck as the dark haired beauty pressed Gunner’s two hundred forty pound body like it was a bag of groceries.

“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. ‘Kid,’” Cordelia growled just before she dropped him gently to the ground.

“W-what are you?” Jack stammered.

“I’m an Amazon,” Cordelia proudly said.

“An Amazon? Why they weren’t real…they’re just a legend,” Bull said.

“No, we weren’t,” Willow noted with a shrewd smile.

“Dammit!” Jack muttered. “It’s just like St. Wolf to associate with a bunch of Amazons! I take it that the girl in the picture is also an Amazon?”

“Not exactly, Mr. Ryan,” Giles said with a Cheshire-Cat smile.

Bull, not liking the look on Giles’ face, sighed deeply. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is she then?”

“She is the Slayer.”

Jack and John look at each other then look at Giles. “What’s a Slayer?” Jack asked.

“She is the one girl in the entire world, the Chosen One, born with the strength and skill to hunt Vampires and other deadly creatures, to find them where they gather and to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. Buffy is the Slayer for this generation.”

“He just loves saying that,” Xander quipped.

“What’s her connection to St. Wolf?” Jack asked.

Giles stiffened at Ryan’s question. At first he wasn’t about to violate his Slayer’s privacy, but Jenny gently said, “England, they’ll know soon enough. Tell them.”

Giles nodded reluctantly and said, “She’s his lover.”

“WHAT!!??” Bull screamed, his fury clear to all in the room. “Why that son of a bitch! I’m going to break his fucking legs if he’s romancing that child!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Cordelia snapped as she stepped into Bull’s face. “Buffy and Steve have had hard lives and they make each other happy. If you screw with them, I promise I *WILL* hurt you.”

“Little lady, Carson, or Steve as you call him, is at least forty years old. He shouldn’t be dating teenagers!”

“Cordelia, please step away from the Colonel,” Giles said simply. Cordelia listened to the Watcher and moved away from the man, but was sure to keep him pinned by her glare. “Colonel Franklin, would you please take a close look at that picture of Steven and Buffy?”

The Colonel complied with Giles’ request. “What am I looking at?”

“Does Steven look like a forty year old man to you?”

“No, no he doesn’t,” a cowed Bull mumbled. “He looks like he did when he got out of the Army, about twenty-four to twenty-five years old. Tex, Gunner, take a look at this photo and tell me that I’m wrong.”

After they had examined the picture, Tex said, “Bull, you’re not wrong. He hasn’t aged one bit! How is that possible?”

“Before Steven ‘died’ the first time,” Giles said, “he came into the possession of the Sword of Destiny called ‘Demon Slayer’. When he was ‘killed’, the sword prevented him from dying and healed his mortal wounds within hours.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Some sword healed him and saved his life?”

“Steven carries a sword that is one of the most powerful mystical artifacts ever created. It is legend among those who are learned in the ‘arts’ and respected by the forces of ‘Light.’”

“Where did he get this sword?” Gunner asked.

“A dragon gave it to him for saving the life of another dragon,” Giles said. Then he walked over to the bookcase and took down a photo album. He turned to a particular page and showed them a photo. Bull took the book from the Englishman, stared at the photo closely and hissed.

“Shit! This isn’t a fake is it?”

“I’m afraid not. That photo was taken seven years ago when Steven led a raid against some white slavers in Libya.”

“What happened?” Tex asked.

“Steven and his friends killed every adult there and rescued four hundred, thirty seven children ranging in age from eight to sixteen years old.”

“What about the Libyans?” Bull asked. “I’m sure that Khadaffi had some problems with that one.”

“The Libyans tried to stop his team with a company of their special forces. They failed,” Giles noted.

“How did they get the kids out?” Bull asked.

“Another team, working with them, hijacked a Moroccan 747 Jet and landed the plane outside the place where the auction was held. They rushed the children onboard and flew away from that hell hole accompanied by the dragon.”

“Did they lose anyone?” Bull asked.

“No. They all got out safe and sound.”

“How does the sword stop the aging process,” Jack wondered. “And how does it involve that young girl?”

“Buffy is the bearer of ‘Demon Slayer’s’ mate, ‘Vampire Slayer.’ The swords work together to keep them young and fit indefinitely.”

“You mean they’re immortal?” Jack blurted.

“They can be. So long as they continue to carry the swords, they won’t age.”

“My God!” Bull muttered under his breath. “But why…why those two?”

Giles gave them a nonplussed look. “Why? Simply because they are the best, gentlemen.” He then turned to Xander and said, “Xander run the video tape from the restaurant that was taken a few weeks ago.”

“You got it, G-Man,” Xander said while Giles visibly cringed from the boy’s use of that despised nickname. Xander placed a video tape in the VCR, switched on the television, and started the tape. Then Ryan and his companions watched as the Slayer and her mate took apart a dozen vampires in a few minutes time.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” a stunned Bull exclaimed to the TV screen. “Where in the hell did he learn that shit from?”

“Steven’s been fighting constantly for the last fifteen years. Imagine the skills he’s mastered during that time.”

“You’ve seen his files, Bull,” Jack said. “All of the work he’s done for me only accounts for a short amount of time. I don’t think I want to know what he did when he wasn’t working for me.”

Bull simply shook his head in disbelief. “When will he be back?”

“He shall return home in a few days. If you gentlemen would like to wait, he’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait,” Jack said. “Too much is going on and I have to be in D.C. to make sure that everything goes fine.”

“That goes for us, too,” Bull said. “If he’s pissed off Khadaffi, we’ll be on High Alert for a few days.”

“When he returns, I’ll make certain he knows you were here.”

“All right, Mr. Giles,” Jack said. “We’ll leave tomorrow and return in a few weeks. Make sure he doesn’t leave again before we see him.”

“Very well then, gentlemen,” Giles said. Then Jack and his friends turned to leave St. Wolf’s home. Giles then turned to Xander and said, “Take a team and make certain they arrive safely at the Motor Lodge.”

“Right, G-Ma—” Xander then stopped himself when he received the ‘hairy eyeball’ from the Watcher. “Er..um…you’ve got it, Giles!”

*****

July 22nd 20:00 PST - July 23rd - 08:00 Local

Lac Yora

Meanwhile, back in Chad, Anton gazed deeply into his Genevieve’s eyes and said, “My love, please understand—Carson is not exactly the same man that we once knew.”

“What do you mean by that, Anton?”

“Carson is not exactly…human anymore.” Before Genevieve could say a word, Anton placed a finger to her lips and shushed her. “He’s still the same kind, caring man that you loved like a brother, but he’s now an Immortal.”

“How did he become ‘Immortal’?”

“Apparently, he was born that way. He and his friends were chosen to become the guardians of mankind in a war that stretches back to when our ancestors were still living in caves.”

“That young girl, she is Immortal as well?”

“Yes. She was a Slayer when she was mortal, Genevieve. One of the Chosen champions of man. I’m sure you remember the stories that your grandmother used to tell us of her friend Rachel, the one who had been chosen to be a Slayer?”

“I do, Anton, but Rachel died and she didn’t become Immortal. Why was this girl given such a wonderful gift?”

“Because she has become Carson’s lover and battle mate, my love. Perhaps the Almighty felt that Carson needed a love to continue his fight and He chose this girl to fill the void that was left by Katherine’s death.”

“But she’s so young!”

“True, but he they do seem to be a lot alike. They’re both fierce fighters in the defense of humanity. I watched them closely while we traveled here. Trust me, my darling, they belong together.”

Genevieve smiled at her true love. “You always were such a romantic, Anton. I hope she makes Carson happy.”

“From the way they were holding hands? Of that, I have little doubt.”

*****

While her brother-in-law and his wife were sharing their thoughts about his old friend’s new life, Constance was upstairs in her room, arms’ deep inside an old trunk she had removed from the back of her closet. She rustled through the weapons and armor inside it until she found her father’s journal. She removed the book, opened it, and scanned through its pages, lost in her memories. Then she heard a noise and turned to find her son standing in her doorway.

When he saw an armored breast plate inside her trunk, he asked, “Mama, will you tell me why you have armor and weapons from the Order inside that trunk or must I guess the reason for them to be there?”

Constance hung her head in defeat and began to cry. Pierre rushed to his mother’s side and took her lovingly into his arms to comfort her. After several minutes had passed, she stopped her sobbing and said, “Pierre…your grandfather was a Knight Major in the Order when he died. He had given his life to save the world from a monster that wanted to open a gateway to Hell in Greece. He sent his the knights and squires he commanded back and destroyed the gateway himself, sealing himself inside to die at the hands of the hellish hordes. Your Uncle Michael also was a knight in the order. He died during World War Two. He led a raid against one of Hitler’s death trains. He was killed when he charged a machine gun nest that had turned its guns on the Jews and other so-called ‘undesirables’ as they were being led from the cattle cars.”

As her son sat in stunned silence and attempted to take in all that he’d just heard, she turned tear-stained eyes forlornly toward his beloved face. “Will you now demand your place in the Order, my heart?”

He tenderly kissed her cheek and shook his head. “No, Mama. I want to remain in the Legion,” he said and she looked at him with the light of hope in her eyes. “However, I would like to court a woman from the Order who I met last night.”

“What is she, a squire?”

“No, she’s a Knight Captain.”

Constance gasped at that. “Pierre, my heart, do not pursue this. Believe me, this woman is more than what she appears to be.”

“What do you mean by that, Mama?”

Constance sighed then said, “Pierre, your grandfather was one hundred and twenty years old when I was born.” As her son’s mouth dropped open in shock at her confession, Constance continued to reveal more of the difficult truth to him. “I’m not forty-five, my heart. I’m really seventy-six years old.”

“H-how is that possible?” he stammered and stared at her as if she were an alien creature ready to devour him.

“The Order has the Holy Grail, Pierre. When a man or woman joins the Order, they drink from the Grail as proof of their devotion to the protection of humanity. Every year, on the anniversary of their birth, they and their immediate family members, drink from the Chalice of Christ. By doing so, the Grail prevents anyone from being possessed by something evil. The second thing that it does is it slows down the aging process. One of your grandfather’s best friends died in battle at the age of two hundred and thirty.”

“S-so, how old would someone have to be for the rank of Knight Captain?”

“Most likely, they are probably in their late sixties, maybe early seventies.”

Pierre laughed nervously at her words. “Mama…I can’t believe that Jordan is that old. She doesn’t look to be older than twenty-five.”

Constance cocked a well-coiffed eyebrow at her son and asked, “This woman—is her name Jordan Smythe?”

“You know her?”

Constance nodded at him. “She’s an old friend of mine. We grew up together and were like sisters. After my Papa died, I ran away and haven’t seen her since.”

“How long ago was this?” Pierre asked.

“Almost forty years ago. She wanted to join the Order and I…I just couldn’t, not after all that I lost to it and its insane quests. So I left it all behind.” Constance then smiled slyly at him. “So, my son, are you still interested in her now that you know she’s a contemporary of your Mama’s?”

Pierre didn’t want to answer her at the moment because he was still trying to wrap his brain around the whole concept of all that he’d just heard. “Mama, this Grail, is that why Carson still looks so young?”

His mother smiled to herself at her son’s attempt to change the subject. “No. Carson is what’s called an Immortal.”

“What’s an Immortal?”

“They’re human beings who can only be killed by cutting off their heads. The Order has several hundred of them as knights. They usually take on the deadliest missions to protect their mortal friends.”

Pierre’s eyes glowed as he said, “That may be so, Mama, but I think they can handle them if the other have the same powerful allies that Carson and his Lady have!”

Constance rolled her eyes at him and muttered, “And so it begins.” Then she shot a wry look his way and asked, “By any chance you wouldn’t be referring to the Dragons, now would you?”

“You know about the Dragons?”

“Yes, Pierre,” she said patiently, “your grandfather had several of them as friends. Fragnar once took me flying on my tenth birthday. It was the best present my father had ever given me. My Papa and I rode on his back for hours!” She smiled to herself for a few moments then began to weep again. Through her tears, she said, “I miss that life sometimes, but I miss Papa and Michael even more!” Then she brushed away the moisture from her cheeks and said, “That’s why I wanted you to have a normal life, away from the fighting and dying. I want grand children to spoil and love and I want to help you and your wife raise them. I don’t want you to spill your guts out on some unknown battlefield and leave me to watch your wife wither away like I did after your Father was killed.”

Pierre tenderly held his mother’s hand and said, “Mama, I didn’t know you felt this way. I’m so sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

Constance smiled sadly up at Pierre. “There is no way in the world that you, my heart, could ever disappoint me. I love you so!” she exclaimed and hugged him to her as if her life depended on him, and in truth, it did. Then she whispered into his ear, “Your Father loved the Legion so, my darling, nearly as much as he loved us both. He was a good man who I loved dearly. If you wish to follow him then I won’t stand in your way.”

Pierre fought back his own tears as he had finally gained his mother’s acceptance of his choice in life. “Thank you, Mama! Thank you!”

*****

While Buffy and the other Immortals were busy cleaning the battle grime from their bodies, St. Wolf had troubled Sean again to make another call, this time to Paris, France. As the connection was made, he said “Is Jacques in his office? This is the Wanderer; I need to speak to him.”

*****

July 22nd 22:30 PST - July 23rd - 08:30 Paris Local

Office of the Director, Deuxieme

Paris, France

Jacques DeClare stared at the report in front of him and shook his head. < What in the hell is going on in Chad? A mysterious group crossed the border into Libya, destroyed the Ma’tan ah Sarah oil refinery, fought the Third Border Guards to a stand still, crossed into Chad and had the 1st DREP attack the Libyans when they crossed over in pursuit! Who in God’s name are these people? > Jacques peered up from his desk as his secretary rushed into his office. “What is Margarete?”

“Sir, the Wanderer is on a secure satellite link. He wishes to talk to you.”

“Do you know where he’s calling from?” Jacques asked as his stomach lurched. < A thousand francs wager that he has something to do with this! >

“He’s calling from the 1st DREP Headquarters in Lac Yora, Chad.”

“Dammit!” Jacques muttered. < I just knew it had to be that son of a bitch. > “Put him through.” Jacques then picked up his phone and demanded, “What in the HELL did you do now, you miserable bastard?!”

“Hello Jacques. How’s the family?”

“Don’t bullshit me, you son of a bitch! What in the hell is going on in Libya and Chad? Have you and Iverson started another war?”

“Jacques, Jacques. Can’t we at least reacquaint ourselves before we get down to business?”

“I want your report, now!”

“Very well, Jacques.” Then St. Wolf told him about the entire mission.

After St. Wolf had completed his report, Jacques sat back in his chair and shuddered. < How could we not know that madman was planning this? Thank God that St. Wolf was able to take him out before he did any damage. > “What are your plans now?”

“One of the men who served on the mission with me was killed in our battle with the Libyans. I’m taking him to Paris to be buried next to his wife. The local Legion colonel is providing me an honor guard to escort the body home.”

“Call me when you land at De Gaulle Airport. I’ll clear you through customs.”

“Thanks, Jacques. Anything else?”

“Who helped you?”

“Jacques, you know that I can’t tell you that.”

Jacques sighed resignedly. “St. Wolf, either tell me or I’ll force you to attend every night of my granddaughter’s violin recital.”

“Is that a threat, Jacques?”

“No, it’s a promise, mon ami. Now give!”

“Very well, Jacques. It was Section Seven.”

Jacques stared at his phone and took a deep breath. Then he slowly let it out and asked, “I take it that you’re working for them now?”

“I’m their field commander.”

< God help us all! The Wanderer has his own private army. What idiot decided to do something as crazy as that?!> he thought, but he asked, “May I ask who entrusted you with such assets?”

“Sorry Jacques, that’s classified.”

Jacques narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Fine, then! May I attend the funeral?”

“Of course, but I won’t have you bother the man’s family. His children will be suffering enough without one of your flunkies hounding them.”

“I give you my word of honor that this man’s family will not be bothered.”

“Thank you, Jacques. His family has nothing to do with Section Seven and they’ll be in a very bad way with him dying so soon after his wife.”

“Understood my friend, but you and I shall have a heart-to-heart about this group of yours.”

“Fair enough, old friend. Goodbye,” St. Wolf said and hung up the satellite phone.

Part 20 - Truth and Consequences

(Where’s Bob Barker When You Need Him?)

July 31st 23:30 PST - July 23rd - 07:30 Local

Office of the Director, Deuxieme

Paris, France

“Only St. Wolf could have pulled this off,” DeClare muttered t himself as he entered President Chirac’s office and took a seat in front of his desk. When he saw the aides of both the President and Prime Minister Lionel Jospin in the room along with their bosses, he glared at them and said, “Get rid of these people except for the Prime Minister, Mr. President! We have much to discuss.”

“Since when do you give me orders, DeClare? You may have been Mitterrand’s pet, but you’re not mine,” Chirac demanded.

Jacques grinned at the President. “Don’t you want to hear the full report on what happened in Libya? If so, get rid of your flunkies, especially Chaverelle.”

“This had better be good, Jacques,” Jospin grumbled.

“Oh, it’s good. Believe me,” Jacques replied with a death’s head grin. Several of the President’s flunkies immediately began to edge toward the doors, afraid for their lives.

Chirac sighed and said, “Please leave,” to both his aides and Jospin’s. Then he glared at Chaverelle and said, “That goes for you, too.” After they had all left the room, Jacques drew a case from his coat’s inner pocket, removed a cigar from it, and offered it to either the President or the Prime Minister. Both of the men declined it and Jacques simply shrugged, placed the cigar between his lips, lit it and began to tell his tale.

“As to Khadaffi’s complaints about the Legion killing his troops, tell him to go fuck himself.”

“Cough it up, DeClare. What happened?” Chirac asked with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Jacques relayed the entire report as it was told to him by St. Wolf and when he had finished, Chirac picked up his phone to contact his secretary and said, “Bring in a bottle of brandy with three glasses.”

Moments later, his secretary entered with a bottle of twenty year old Napoleon VSOP and three glasses on a tray. She placed the tray on the desk and left the office. Chirac picked up the bottle and poured drinks for the three of them. Then he handed the glasses to both Jacques and the Prime Minister and took one for himself. “A toast, gentlemen, to the men and women who fight for the cause of right and politics be damned!”

“To unsung heroes,” Jacques added.

Chirac nodded. “To unsung heroes, may this world never be without them.” Then all three men drained their brandy glasses and threw them into the fireplace. When they’d retaken their seats, Chirac asked, “What are you going to do?”

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