Author: NorJC
E-mail Address: Norjc@aol.com, Steve711@concentric.net
Title: Prom Night
Copyrighted: June 2002
Category: Crossover/Action/Romance
Rating: Mostly PG-14 (Except for Chapters10, x, x which are marked NC-17 for sexual situations)
Spoilers: A few
Keywords: Highlander/Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Summary: This particular adventure involves the Prom episode done in the Wandererverse style.
Highlander: All rights and properties are owned by Rysher Entertainment.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: All rights and properties are owned by Joss Whelon, Warner Bros. and Mutant Enemy, etc.
The Legendary Adventures of Hercules/Xena-Warrior Princess: All rights and properties are owned by Renaissance and Flat Earth
Productions.
Any characters, whose names and descriptions are used, are the property of their original owners, and no
copyright infringement is intended or meant.
The character of Solomon Grundy belongs to DC Comics, Inc.
The character of Elektra belongs to Marvel Comics, Inc.
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 remains intact.
The characters Wanderer/Steven
St. Wolf and Ted, the Pizza God Avatar belong to Steve Pantovich.
The characters of Edwin Giles, Valeria, Morgaine le
Fey, Cardinal Thomas Bellarmine and Patricia Driscoll belong to Norjc.
The character of Marion Pryce belongs to Tim Knight.
The characters of Robin Goodfellow and Liam Danahure belong to Mike Weyer.
The character of Alison Jarman belongs to
Anne Parnell.
The characters of Jake Chronos and Jennifer Hewitt belong to Joshua, "The Evil Guy."
Comments and Criticisms are appreciated, please post to the above referenced e-mail.
Special Thanks to my Beta Readers: Tim Knight and Carla Alfano
Author's Notes:
Words expressed with the < > are thoughts.
Words in italics are foreign words.
Jenny did not die in this
universe since the events of Passion did not occur here.
Kendra did not die in this universe since the events of Becoming did not
occur here.
Jenny became an Amazon, along with Cordelia, Amy, and Willow, in Steve's Training Blues Series - How Cordelia Got Her
Amazon Groove, so don't blame me! <G>
Marion Pryce's Residence
Salem, Massachusetts
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0800 EST
"Just a moment . . ." Marion announced as she trotted to the door. Through her peephole she spied two handsome men standing on her porch. Both men were thin and made to appear more so through the fish-eye glass. She also noted that they were nattily dressed. They were an intriguing pair. One was a prissy-looking, young man. The other was a distinguished looking gentleman who wore thin-rimmed spectacles. She threw the door open and asked, "Yes . . . may I help you?"
The elder man smiled warmly. He pursed his thin, very kissable lips <Goodness, Marion! Down girl!> and said in a velvety soft, British voice, "Hello! You must be Marion Pryce! My word," he whispered, eyeing her appreciably, "I must say beauty runs deep in your family."
Marion blushed under his scrutiny, feeling almost like a shy schoolgirl. "Ah, yes," she said, recovering her composure. "Am I in the company of the Earl of Leicester?"
He chuckled pleasantly. "No need to be so formal, my dear. Edwin Giles at your service. My companion's name," he pointed toward the young man, "is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Please call me Edwin and our young gentleman here, Wesley." The young man nodded. "We've come to escort you to Sunnydale," Edwin said with a flourish.
She smiled at his gallantry. "My . . . I am impressed, Lord-"
"I must insist," he said, mildly rebuking her, "that you call me Edwin, dear lady."
Her smile then turned cold. "All right, Edwin. But only if you call me . . . Ms. Pryce."
His eyes narrowed momentarily, then he smiled generously. "Ah . . . I take it, Ms. Pryce, you're still . . . uncomfortable about the Council and all that it entails as to Linda."
She stepped aside and motioned for the men to enter. They stepped into her foyer and she closed the door behind them. "Yes, Edwin; considering my niece's abject fear of the Council for the safety of her charge last Fall, I suppose it would be a correct assessment of my doubts about your organization."
"Well, I'm prepared to answer any question you may put to us. Before we begin, though, you should know that we've instituted many changes since then and have . . . removed . . . those who may have caused Linda's concerns. Hopefully, we'll be able to put your mind at ease. And soon, you will be able to see Faith and discover for yourself how well our spunky young lady is getting on. If you'd prefer, we can place your luggage in the limousine that's waiting for us. We can talk further about this while in route to the airport."
"Actually, just tell me one thing. Were you close to Linda when she trained to become one of you?"
He quietly regarded her for several moments. Then he sighed. "Yes . . . yes, Wesley and I both were close to her."
For the first time, Wyndam-Pryce spoke. "Ms. Pryce, Linda and I trained together. She was . . . is . . . the most beautiful person I've ever had the chance to know. She was my friend and I will miss her terribly."
Giles smiled tenderly at the young man, then took up the thread. "At the time, I was estranged from my son who's also a Watcher. Linda reminded me so much of him. She was brilliant, passionate, dedicated and . . . a person with a generous spirit. Faith mentioned that Linda brought her to you after Faith was injured last year." Marion confirmed his statement with a nod. "I'm certain you noticed how devoted Linda was toward her young charge." Again, she confirmed with a nod. "My son was the same toward his original Slayer, as he is now toward both Kendra and Faith. Linda was my protege, Ms. Pryce. She seemed to be the only avenue left to me to pass on my heritage when my son seemed hopelessly estranged from me." He glimpsed down at the floor for a second and took a deep breath. Then he drew himself up to face her. "I am in awe of her courage and the depths of her sacrifice. And may God forgive me, I would gladly trade places with her without hesitation."
Marion asked in a hushed voice, "Whatever do you mean?"
He smiled sadly. "Once upon a time . . . I had a Slayer, too. I lost both my Slayer and my wife on the same night. My Slayer died in my place, her last wish to send me home to my wife and child, alive and whole. Even though I still had my son, every day, for the past twenty-nine years, I wish it had been I who took that crossbow bolt in the heart rather than my lovely Slayer, my brave Lillian." He glanced down at Marion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Don't you see, Ms. Pryce? I taught Linda too well."
He looked beyond Marion at something lost in the mists of time that still held sway over both his heart and soul. "Although it's common for a Watcher to outlive her Slayer, it isn't right. It isn't fair. They are so necessary for humanity's survival, so dauntless, so . . . magnificent. When you lose your Slayer, believe me, you're better off dead. It's an unbearable, horrible, pitiful existence to live on without the light of your entire reason for being." Now the tears rolled freely down the cheeks of his weathered but handsome face. "In Atlanta, Linda's last words were, "Faith . . . get away!" Her only thought was for her Slayer's welfare . . . which was, in my view, proper. When that . . . thing . . . ended her life, at least she had the comfort of knowing that her Slayer still lived . . . of knowing, however slim it was, she had a chance for survival . . . . " Then the regal Earl of Leicester shuddered, stared at her with pleading eyes, and blubbered, "and of knowing her Slayer had outlived her!"
Marion's tears welled from the corners of her eyes in response to this passionate man's grief both for her niece and his own, unimaginable loss. As Wyndam-Pryce placed a steadying hand on the elder man's shoulder, Marion gently cupped his cheek in her palm. He pressed into the comfort of her hand like a cat. Then he opened his eyes and she finally had the opportunity to look deeply into them. She gasped at the richness and the depths of his green eyes, almost losing her soul inside them.
"Ms. Pryce?"
"Call me Marion, Edwin," she said, speaking his name softly, like a prayer. Then she graced him with a watery smile. "Let's go see Linda's little tyke, shall we?"
He returned her smile with a self-deprecating one and simply nodded.
Weatherly Park
Sunnydale, California
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0521 PST
"Hah!" Red Sonja shouted as she cleaved her sword through the neck of a vampire. "Like I always say, Gabby. No good deed goes unpunished!"
Gabrielle the Immortal Bard, the Last Queen of the Ancient Amazon Nation and the First Queen of the Virtual Amazon Nation, originally of Poteidaia, Greece and now of Sunnydale, California, former Battle mate of Xena, the Warrior Princess and, for the last two thousand and change years, the Battle mate of Red Sonja, the Battle maiden of the Steppes, and the distaff royal member of the Nine, was a very grumpy bunny. She leapt back to her feet after she'd slammed a vampire bitch to the ground with a dropping scissor-hold. She threw up her left forearm to block a punch thrown by a large male vampire that would have caved in the back of her head and fired a hard sidekick that sent her left foot smashing into the undead creature's crotch. He doubled over in pain and was sent flying by a vicious uppercut thrown by the blonde monarch. She took a moment to catch her breath and shot an annoyed look at her red-haired companion. "Oh do shut up, Sonja!" she snapped. "They were practically dead on their feet!"
Sonja sneered as she swept her sword down to behead the male vampire that her beloved snuggle bunny had so kindly sent her way. "Oh, I don't know . . . they could have kept a few of these pathetic creatures occupied while we dealt with them in a more leisurely fashion. I mean, even if the vamps had put the bite on them, Buffy and that overgrown boy scout would have recovered in a few minutes."
As the male vampire's body lost its cohesion, the vampire female howled, then glared at the blonde Immortal. "Slayer," it hissed, "you're dead! He was my whole world and you both have taken him from me, you Bitch!" Then it growled and sprang at the Amazon Queen.
Gabrielle ducked under the outstretched arms of the vampire female and launched a palm strike into her rib cage. There was a snapping sound and the female's eyes opened wide, locking onto Gabrielle's sad orbs. While the demon howled as the creature's body collapsed into dust, the Amazon Queen whispered, "I'm sorry," to the still, predawn air. Then she straightened up and took a good look around them. She saw no other opponents and sighed. "I prefer the challenge of taking them on like our mortal Amazons do, Sonja. The girls can't afford to make mistakes; neither should we."
Sonja smiled wickedly at her lover. "I love it when you're so serious, luv. It's so sexy!" She sheathed her sword and sauntered over to the Amazon Queen. "By the way, dusting the vamp with her own rib . . . nice."
Gabrielle winced. "Thanks . . . but did you hear the anguish in her voice just before she died? It still unnerves me a bit to realize that some of them are actually capable of love." Then she looked up at the twilight and saw the rapidly approaching dawn. "Hmm. I guess we should call it a night, baby. We've got to drive to Los Angeles later today to pick up our dresses for the prom." She shook her head, exasperated. "I don't know why you let that empowered Watcher talk us into chaperoning duties."
"Oh, quit griping," the Warrior Woman drawled. "We'll have a great time teasing all the boys when they see us all dolled up."
Then in a move calculated to make Sonja' engine hum, Gabrielle languidly raised her arms into the sky and stretched her muscles sensuously.
The sound of Sonja's breath catching in her throat caused Gabrielle to shoot a sexy, feigned innocent look at the flame-haired warrior. Sonja cocked both eyebrows suggestively at her personal blonde goddess and said, "Honey . . . I'm still a little wired." Then her voice became deep and warm. "How about we go to the all-night supermarket and grab a couple of gallons of chocolate ice-"
At that moment the two Immortal champions experienced one of the most powerful Buzzes they'd ever felt. They immediately glanced to the same side of the park and noted the approach of a woman out of the morning mist.
"Who goes there?" Sonja called out to the woman. "Be warned that we do not play the 'Game.'"
A proud, raspy voice, that reminded Gabrielle of Xena's responded. "What's between us, you scarlet haired Bitch, is no Game. I am here seeking Justice."
Sonja eyed her warily. "Justice? What are you talking about, woman?"
The woman came within ten feet of the dynamic duo. She had a sword contained in a scabbard strapped to her back and wore leather body armor that was as skimpy as the chain mail bikini armor that Sonja had worn in ancient times. The woman looked to have long, flowing, light brown hair. She was taller than Gabrielle but a few inches shorter than Sonja. She had large breasts for a woman with such a toned and fit body, looking like a fitness model with large implants. Her face was a little gaunt, like that of a super model, but only from the neck up. Her body appeared to be built for battle.
In short, Gabrielle found her to be quite the hottie.
"Fifteen thousand years ago," the woman said, staring at Sonja, "you battled the forces of Queen Gedren and killed her."
Sonja sneered. "Aye, I gutted that psychopathic bitch and sent her corpse to rot in the bowels of the Earth. What of it?"
"Do you recall what you did to the guard she sent after you that made you take up arms against her?"
The flame-haired swords woman nodded. "Yes, I hunted every one of those maggots down and cleaved them in twain."
The woman narrowed her eyes at Sonja. "Yes. Yes you did. You tracked one of them to a small village in Yeresia, a nothing little village, where the people had just survived one of the harshest winters they'd ever faced." She continued talking, her eyes now focused on something in the distant past. "One of the young guardsmen who'd been conscripted into her service had returned home after the wicked queen's demise. He'd told us about some of the campaigns he'd seen, including one that had turned his stomach. He talked about a raiding party that had been tasked to rape a young, flame-haired woman. While the others had engaged in the nefarious deed, he was outside, holding the reins of their mounts because he 'didn't have the stomach to harm her.'"
Gabrielle chanced a quick glimpse at her Battlemate when Sonja gasped. She spied her regarding the woman with wide eyes.
"Of course," the woman droned, "that woman didn't care when she showed up that spring to exact her vengeance. She didn't care when the young man's wife pleaded with her to spare his life because he hadn't violated her. She didn't care when she prepared to cleave him from head to toe and his wife came at her with a simple knife, trying to drive the woman away from their home. She didn't care when she drove the point of her sword through his wife's gut to the horror of the child that stood there in the squalor of their hut. She didn't seem to care about the anguish of the young man who cradled his wife's dead body in his arms when she split his head open like a melon with her sword."
Gabrielle looked at Sonja. Her red-haired lover apparently tried to speak but uttered no sound. The Amazon Queen herself wanted to say something, anything to stop the woman's soliloquy, yet the consummate bard herself could not find the words. <How strange is that?> she wondered.
"And," the woman said, "you didn't seem to hear my hysterical cries of anguish as you brushed me aside and left me alone with the bodies of my parents to lie in their gore, you heartless, murdering wench!"
The woman's scream snapped Sonja out of her lethargy. "That was eons ago . . . I have not thought about it for a long time. Thus, I cannot refute your account at the moment. Obviously, they weren't your real parents since you are here, now."
"They were the only parents I've ever known, Hyborean."
Sonja sighed. "Yes, you're right. So, do you seek satisfaction from me . . . " Sonja raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
"Valeria."
"Valeria," Sonja parroted back the dark-haired woman's name.
"No, Hyborean . . . I told you I seek Justice. I have trained long and hard, for almost fifteen thousand years. Unlike you, I am not a murderess. I have avoided taking others' heads whenever and wherever I could. I have been hidden from the Watchers, biding my time, tracking you for centuries. I almost confronted you in Europe during World War II, but after you helped those Jewish children escape from the depravity of the Nazis, I gave you a reprieve and waited for the proper moment."
Sonja shook her head. "Valeria . . . please don't do this. I know that your heart cries out for my blood, but this is not the way. I will not fight you."
Valeria regarded her with a cruel smile and a twinkle in her eye. "You? No, Hyborean. It is Justice I seek, not vengeance. Your loved one for mine. And whom do you love the most in this world, Red Sonja?"
It took only a heartbeat for Sonja to understand. Gabrielle saw the horror register on her lover's face as she stole a furtive glance at her. "No . . . no," Sonja whispered. Then she screamed at Valeria, "No! You leave Gabrielle out of this! She's innocent!"
Gabrielle glanced at Valeria and found the woman was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Hyborean, on that horrible day long ago you taught me there are no innocents in this world." Then she said to the Poteidaian, "Gabrielle of the Amazons, I challenge you to honorable single combat. It will be your skill against mine, no magical weapons or devices allowed. If you choose to forego my challenge, my agents will take the heads of every single one of your New Amazons. Do you accept?"
"No, Gabrielle!" Sonja snapped. "Don't listen to her!" Then she growled, "You've just signed your own death warrant, Valeria!"
Gabrielle thought hard. Her Amazons would be unprepared for possible mortals looking to collect their heads. She really had little choice at all. The Amazon Queen drew a deep breath and held it for several heartbeats. Then she proclaimed, "Valeria, I accept your challenge so long as you assure me you will call off your dogs no matter the outcome."
Valeria stared at Gabrielle. "No tricks, Poteidaian?"
Gabrielle regarded her with narrowed eyes. "I am the Queen of the Amazons," she declared. "My sisters have taught the world many lessons about honor in the past as well as the present. I swear to you there will be no tricks on my part during our duel."
Valeria nodded. "Forgive me, your Highness. I am well aware of the sterling reputation of your character. Once we begin our duel, my agents will be instructed to forsake their targets. You have my word."
Gabrielle shook her head. "Not good enough. I want your agents' identities provided to the Order of the Grail. If they choose to disregard your instructions and attack my Amazons they should know that the Order will hunt them and every member of their family down. Unless we agree on this, we will not duel and my Nation will hunt you and yours down, putting your quest for Justice on hold forever."
Valeria gritted her teeth before she said, "Your terms are acceptable. Swords?"
The Amazon Queen nodded regally. "Of course. Time and place?"
"Friday morning at 0530 here in Weatherly Park."
"That is acceptable."
At that, Valeria bowed and turned away from the bard and the Hyborean. Sonja looked like she wanted to say something, but Gabrielle held up her hand to silence her. "Don't. Just . . . don't. Let's just go home, all right?"
With that, the two women started walking. As Sonja tried to close the distance between them, Gabrielle stepped away from her. Gabrielle saw the pain that flashed across Sonja's beloved face even though the Warrior quickly squelched it by glancing up toward the dawn sky. The bard's heart twinged as it cried out for her to put aside her fears and grab up Sonja in a hug. But her doubts kept her from both providing and seeking solace in her lover's arms.
When they were in their bed an hour later, Gabrielle couldn't sleep. Ten minutes earlier she had finally given into her need to cradle her lover in her arms, so she could savor the jasmine scent of her battle mate's hair and grant Sonja the succor she needed to fall into a fitful slumber. They'd discussed Valeria for several minutes after they'd arrived home, Sonja expressing vague memories about the incident and admitting that anything connected to her suffering at the hands of Gedren's men was something long repressed. It was the lack of knowledge concerning what had happened so long ago that troubled her. If Valeria had truly related the events of that long past age, Gabrielle could do very little about this situation. Although she didn't want to harm any living person, she'd kill Valeria without a second's hesitation to protect both her subjects and Sonja from the ancient woman's wrath. A single tear trickled down the side of her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. But what if Valeria was wrong? If she were, then she had to show her the truth in a manner that would lead her to accept it without hesitation. And to do that she needed to involve a neutral party. . . .
A plan began to form in the Amazon monarch's hyperactive mind. Once she had processed all the possibilities inherent in her scheme, she knew of only one person who'd have both the power to pull it off and the neutrality that Valeria would respect.
Gabrielle gently kissed Sonja's brow and stole from their bed. She sneaked down the hall to her office. She closed the door behind her, picked up her phone and dialed a telephone number in Seacouver. She heard two rings over the connection, then someone answered her call. "Hello?" a woman's voice, throaty and dripping with sleep, announced over the connection.
"Andrea, it's Gabrielle. I'm sorry to wake you but it concerns an important matter."
"Certainly, your Highness," the other woman said crisply. "How can I help?"
Gabrielle smiled grimly. "First, knock off the 'your Highness' crap. It's just plain, old Gabrielle when we aren't involved in official state functions, okay? Second . . . give me everything you have on Queen Morgaine of Liechtenstein."
317 Bryant Terrace
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0655 PST
Buffy Summers' own snort drew her mind from the depths of her slumber. Her nose twitched when something . . . feathery . . . tickled it. As her eyes fluttered open, she felt the cozy warmth of a firm, muscular body next to her. It took only a nanosecond for her to recall whose body was pressed against her own. She smiled and practically purred as she snuggled closer to her man. Then she felt it again, the ticklish sensation that gently probed her nostrils. When something probed your nostrils, or any orifice of your body on the Hellmouth, that usually was not a good thing.
Buffy's eyes popped open, trying to determine the cause of her distress. When she saw the strands of golden hair that had fallen across her left eye and poked one of her nostrils, she fired a blast of air from her nose. At that moment, her lover's eyes snapped open and glanced her way.
"Wow, Her Royal Blondness and Sonja must've been right about us looking worn out," she said, reaching up to remove the errant strands of her hair. "I guess our 'post-slayage nap' lasted a little too long."
St. Wolf smiled then nuzzled her nose with his. "Morning, honey," he said and gave her a peck on the lips.
"Morning," she muttered and returned his kiss with one of her own. Then she recalled what had awakened her. "Oh . . . " she mumbled, fretting. "Oh, not good."
As she scurried out of their bed, he asked, "Hey, where are you going?"
"To kill the cat on my head," she drawled.
He chuckled. "Buffy, you don't need to worry. I think you look perfect."
The Immortal Slayer stared at him like he was a crazy man. She muttered, "Yeah, I really look . . . " Then she paused, pondered, and determined that beauty IS in the eye of the beholder. So she acquiesced gracefully. "Okay!" she chirped and sprang from the floor back into Steve's powerful arms. As he hugged her to him, she felt his manly chest hairs brush against her bare nipples and the sensation reminded her about dancing close, in the dark, being romantic . . .
<Uh oh.>
"Honey . . . " she drawled. "We need to talk."
"Mmm?"
"During the past few weeks, did I . . . er . . . mention something . . . um . . . about the prom?"
"The prom?"
Her face fell at the confused tone of his voice. <I guess not,> her mind chastised her. Oh well, she was committed now. "You know, end of high school, rite of passage thingy. Think cotillion with spiked punch and the electric slide."
She could feel him pull back a bit to look down at her face. She glanced up and read the slight annoyance in his expression. "I know what 'it' is . . . you just hadn't mentioned 'it' before. When?"
"This Friday night," she said in a little girl's voice.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "And you're telling me this now, just three days before the damn thing is supposed to happen?!"
Buffy whined, "Well, I'm sorry, but with all the stuff that's been going on and amidst all the fighting-" She stopped talking when he cocked his right eyebrow at something she'd said. "What?!"
"Nothing," he murmured. "I'm just surprised you used a word like 'amidst' that's all."
She stared at him, her eyes showing her doubt. "I said 'amidst?' Like in a sentence and everything?"
He nodded.
She shook her head and flopped onto her back. "If I don't stop hanging with Giles, I won't be able to speak English anymore." Then her brain caught up to the absurdity of her statement and she lamely added, "I meant 'American English' . . . you got that, right?"
The Wanderer simply stared at her.
"Anyway," Buffy stammered, "with all that we've got going on, it kinda . . . slipped my mind." Then she pouted up at him. "Sorry," she murmured trying to look both adorable and pitiful at the same time.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Buffy . . . I wish you'd told me about this thing earlier. I'm supposed to be in New York for a Board Meeting with Frank at Iverson Air. I thought about staying overnight afterwards, then I'd return to Sunnydale on Saturday."
Buffy's face fell and she added the sad-puppy-dog-look to her devastating pout. She knew it was almost impossible for any man to resist that.
He glared at her for a second before he capitulated. "All right, all right. I'll change my plans and be back in time to take you to the blasted thing even though I'll be a fish out of water," he grumbled.
Inwardly, Buffy chirped, "Yay me!" and smiled in triumph, though she had the presence of mind not to let it show on her face. She understood both her pout and the puppy trick were deadly weapons that should only be used for dire emergencies. And after the horror of her past prom forays, it was imperative that Buffy experience a nice, normal prom before she graduated from high school or died trying to stop the Mayor's Ascension....whichever came first . . . though it would be hard to stop the Ascension if she wasn't a high school graduate, she mused. <I mean, how lame would that be, if I stood there and yelled, "Hey you demony . . . mayor . . . thingy, the jig is up on your nefarious scheme!" and he shoots me down by saying, "Sorry, I don't listen to little girls who can't even graduate from high school!" I mean, what would happen if, horror of horrors, Snyder won't give me my diploma? Would I end up a dreg of society somewhere, you know, flipping burgers for a living or doing something lame like that?>
Of course while about 65 percent of the Slayer's brain capacity was engaged in the Möbius loop commonly known to the Slayerettes as 'Buffy-babble,' the other portion of her mind had processed her man's slight discomfort. "Don't say that, baby," she cooed. "Lots of girls have older boyfriends."
He shot a hard look at her. "Buffy. I'm forty-one years old. It feels funny being called a 'boyfriend' at my age. For God's sakes, I've been married, tried to start a . . ." His voice faded off as he looked at Buffy and apparently noticed the sad look on her face. "Oh, honey . . . I'm so sorry about shooting my mouth off like that."
She painted on a smile and nodded her acceptance of his apology. He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, honey. I'll pull my old tux out and we'll dance the night away, all right?"
She snuggled into him, trying to feel warm again. "If you'd rather not go . . . "
He wasn't about to walk into that trap. "No, I'll be happy to go, honey. We'll have a good time, I promise. I'll even make sure we've got coverage. Do you think Gabrielle-"
"Er, sweetie?" she interrupted him. "Giles asked Gabby and Sonja to chaperone. So you'd better count them out."
"Okay . . . " he drawled. "I hope none of our vampires are invited to this shindig."
She smirked. "They'd better not be, or else they'll need plenty of dust busters to collect what's left of 'em!" When she noted the puzzled look he gave her, she simply said, "I've got real issues about having Undead Americans at my high school dances-it's a prejudice I might get over one day, but don't hold your breath."
"Er . . . right. Okay, then, we'll get Spike, Dru, and Charlie to patrol. How about the Twin Towers of Tactlessness?"
"No way, Jose. They're promming. Shaw with Liam, Faith's stagging it."
He sighed resignedly. "I suppose that our vampire contingent can hold down the fort for one night if I can't find some Immortals to provide backup. Maybe Jarod and Andrea could come down and pitch in. Okay, I'll make all the arrangements."
She reached up and kissed him softly. "Thanks, honey." Then she hugged him. Buffy chanced a glimpse over his shoulder and saw the crimson numbers of his digital alarm clock staring back at her. "Holy shit! It's seven-fifteen! I've got to get home and get ready for school!"
The Slayer tossed herself out of bed like a blonde whirlwind, threw on her clothes, raced back to her man, and kissed him. "I've got to move more of my stuff here so I don't have to run home like this," she muttered. Then she turned for the door.
Just as she crossed the threshold, he yelled after her, "Then I'll just have to make more room for your stuff, don't I?"
As the Immortal Slayer sprinted from her lover's home, the grin on her tanned face managed to outshine the bright, California sun.
Midnight
At an Abandoned Warehouse
As the Slayer and her Watcher approached the warehouse along the dingy, rain-slicked sidewalk of Atlanta's Sawyer Street, her Slayer-senses were screaming so loud to her, it drowned out the part of her mind that was screaming at her to make her Watcher and that Slayer turn around. Then she saw them in the dim light of a street lamp near the rear loading dock of the building and the frightened part of her was silenced, as always. She crept toward them in the shadows, holding her breath so the undead guys couldn't sense her until it was too late. Then she sprang from beneath the stairway onto the loading dock, stabbing with the stake into the chest of one of the vampires even before her feet touched down. As it died, she grabbed the throat of the other guard with her powerful left hand, silencing it just before she slammed the stake into its heart with her right. As she scanned the muggy darkness, her Watcher gently touched her shoulder from behind.
"Less than five seconds. Excellent work, Faith," Linda Pryce whispered to the dark-haired Slayer.
Faith flashed her a quick grin just before she felt the tingle in her abdomen. When she saw her target, she raced off after it like a cheetah. She covered twenty yards in a flash and tackled the vampire that had walked the perimeter. The vampire, still garbed in the cheerleader outfit she'd worn in life, tried to scream out a warning, but Faith's punch in the throat throttled its air flow. As the vampire female reached for its own throat, Faith slammed down her stake into its heart.
Faith rolled to her feet and trotted back to Linda who waited by the back entrance. "It's unlocked, Faith," Linda whispered.
The Slayer nodded as the other part of her mind shivered in horror as she stared at the door. "Let's do it, boss lady." As she turned the nob and gently opened the door, she whispered, "Stay behind me, Linda."
She peered into the massive, dimly lit space as she stepped inside. Linda's hip pressed against her as the Watcher turned to shut the door behind them. Then there was a little creak from one of the door's hinges, a tiny sound that most humans wouldn't have noticed. Yet it sounded like a foghorn to both the predator and the prey she hunted.
Three vampires turned at the sound and when they saw them, yelled, "Intruders!"
Faith snarled. "Son-of-a-bitch!" she snapped as her internal vamp-dar went off the scale. Tons of the bloodsuckers rushed at the Slayer and her Watcher. She'd never seen this many of them together during any of her previous hunts and she knew they were in big, big trouble. <Please . . . God . . . please make her listen to me this time!> the terrified part of her mind begged while her physical self screamed, "Linda! Take off! I'll handle the first ones and be right on your tail!"
Linda didn't run. She never did, the tiny part of her mind noted. The Watcher stepped next to her Slayer and said, "Go, Faith! Call Wesley for reinforcements and return for me then. I'll cover you."
Faith whirled on her Watcher. "What?!? You can't last more than ten seconds against all these undead guys!"
Before the Watcher could respond, the first lines of vampires were upon them, to the vampires' everlasting dismay. As the Slayer, Faith was a fearsome nemesis for any vampire. As a woman trying to protect her beloved Guardian, she was far, far worse.
Faith held stakes in both hands as her face contorted with fury. She twirled the weapons, ducked, and simultaneously jabbed them into the groins of the first two vampires. She whirled away as Lynda stabbed through the backs of her doubled-over victims into their hearts with her pointed quarterstaff, dusting them. The Dark Slayer cut off two more vamps as they stepped forward. She slammed the side of her weapon against a large male vamp's chin and launched a powerful sidekick into his wiry companion's belly. Faith's preternatural strength sent the thin vamp sprawling into several others, hard enough to smash them down to the floor. As she spun out of the kick, the Boston Slayer saw a female vampire reach for her. She swept her left stake up, batting its arms aside, and plunged the right stake into its exposed rib cage. As the female vampire disintegrated, Faith jammed her left stake into the large male, dusting him, and used her right to block a kick launched at her by another. Then she used her left stake to penetrate the kicker's heart through its back, sending it screaming back to Hell, while she whirled and backed stabbed another with her right hand. She growled like a wolverine, causing two more vampires to pull up, fear evident on their ridged faces. Without hesitation, she stabbed forward, destroying both fang boys with cold, cruel efficiency.
Faith chanced a quick glance at her Watcher and felt a relieved grin flash onto her face even as a part of her screamed in her mind, "No!" Linda had just used her pointed quarterstaff with deadly effectiveness to dust three of the several Faith had knocked down before. Just as the Watcher moved to attack another vampire, her mind's eye saw it all and tried to warn Linda, but her voice caught in her throat. Suddenly four vamps rushed Linda from behind and took the Watcher down. "Faith!" Linda screamed as she struggled in her captor's grasp. "Get away!"
Faith snarled and whirled to help her Watcher. Then when she felt the powerful grasp of several supernaturally strong hands grab her, she realized her error . . . again. <Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! > she chided herself as she struggled to escape and save her Guardian. There were at least six of the undead guys and gals piling on top of her to pin her to the ground. She was able to kick two of them aside before another four dived in to secure her arms and legs. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she continued to struggle against them. She knew what was coming; she had to try and stop it. However, the vampires, in response, tightened their grip and waited.
Then she saw him. The Master. Dark skin, tall with blond hair and a death's head grin. A part of her gasped and listened as her physical self continued to struggle. "So you two have been the ones causing me all this trouble? Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm the Slayer and I'm going to kill you," her physical self defiantly said. Even the stark-raving-terrified part of her admired her physical self's bravado. Yet she knew they were hollow words.
The Master chuckled. "You won't be doing anything, little girl. First your Watcher here dies." She gritted her teeth, redoubled her efforts, yet succeeded in only making him laugh even harder. When she glared at him, she saw the pleased gleam in his eyes. "So the Watcher means something to you?" A part of her stared wide-eyed at the scene and murmured in her mind, <No . . . no . . . don't . . . please don't . . . >, as the four vampires that held Linda dragged the Watcher to the Master's side. "Good . . . then you can watch her die."
He grinned, then clamped his mouth onto Linda's throat, tearing it with his fangs as Linda screamed. Faith wanted to turn away but couldn't as she watched the monster greedily suck her Guardian dry.
Faith saw Linda's eyes flutter as the beast grunted and slurped while it jerked her body closer to him allowing him to drain her life's blood. As her Watcher looked over the creature's shoulder, her eyes locked onto Faith's. They were filled with sorrow and filled with love before the creature jerked once more and her eyes became still and empty.
The bastard then dropped Linda's body to the floor like it was a piece of garbage. As he turned toward the Slayer, she smelled the blood, Linda's blood on its breath. The Master grinned and started to stalk toward her. "Ah . . . " he said, licking his lips. "Watcher blood is almost as good as a Slayer's. She was excellent. Now for the main course. . . ."
As her horrified eyes opened wide, she heard a woman's voice calling to her . . .
1630 Revello Drive
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0715 PST
"Faith . . . honey?"
"No! NO! NO!!!" Faith struggled and shook her head as she tried to escape her from the blonde woman's grasp.
"Faith! FAITH! Wake up! Wake up, honey! It's a dream! A dream!"
Faith's eyes popped open. "Mommy?" she said in a little girl's voice. Then she spied a blonde woman's concerned face peering at her. "Linda?" she croaked. "How . . . ?"
Joyce Summers tried not to allow the sinking feeling in her gut to show in her eyes when she saw no evidence of her youngest Slayer daughter's usual confidence. She smiled as she gently lifted a strand of sweat-slicked hair off the girl's face. "It's Joyce. You're fine, now, sweetie. You're safe. It was just a dream," she cooed. "Atlanta's far, far way . . . you're in Sunnydale, honey . . . Sunnydale, here with Buffy, Kendra, and me."
As the Slayer Mom soothed her, Faith wept shamelessly. "I-I . . . t-tried," she stammered, "t-to stop it this time . . . tried . . . b-but I . . . couldn't . . . "
Joyce hugged the Dark Slayer close. "It wasn't your fault, sweetie." She kissed Faith's forehead and began to rock her. "You've got to quit blaming yourself. You couldn't have known what was waiting for you in that warehouse."
"But I'm the Slayer!" she wailed. "She should've run, should've gotten away . . . left me behind . . . "
"No!" Joyce snapped. "Never say that! We . . . Linda and I . . . would've lost you if she had. If that monster hadn't focused on Linda, Stalker and Ali would have been too late to save you. She wanted you to live, Faith. Wherever she is now, I know she'd never blame you. Please, please believe that."
Faith sniffled for a moment and shuddered. Then she peered up at Joyce with haunted eyes. "I know . . . but I can't stop blaming myself," she whispered before she dropped her head against Joyce's breast and began to weep softly as her Slayer Mom rocked her gently.
Iverson Air Fox-Xanatos Jet
Crossing the Nevada-California Border
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0955 PST
"Would you care for another cup of tea, sir?"
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce smiled pleasantly at the flight attendant and shook his head slightly. "No, thank you."
She nodded and flashed a professional smile at him. Then she turned to his traveling companions and asked them the same question. They declined anything and returned to their chat while Wesley admired the movement of the attendant's shapely hips as she strode to the front of the cabin. At that moment, although it was well-hidden, he spied a portion of the butt of a pistol peeking out of a concealed holster on her hip. Disgusted, he sighed heavily. Were all of St. Wolf's people armed to the bloody teeth?
He turned to stare at the passing clouds as they flew westward. It was bad enough that Giles had allowed Buffy to be so headstrong and unorthodox. But to allow that Wanderer character to turn her into a commando had seemed unpardonable to him.
That is, until she had to defend herself against the mercenaries that his former supervisor, Quentin Travers, had sent to murder them. After that, his views concerning both St. Wolf and Rupert Giles had changed radically. Well, almost, he mused. It still bothered him to be surrounded by all those firearms the man kept in his home.
He heard a musical chuckle and glanced toward it. Ms. Pryce was thoroughly engaged with Lord Giles in some conversation concerning one of his military adventures, or rather, a misadventure from the sounds of her laughter. Hearing her made him smile. Linda had sounded just like that when she'd laugh. It was so bubbly, so alive. Her humor was a breath of fresh air in the midst of the Council's stodginess. He realized now that he'd had a crush on her back then. He'd just come into his own, a recent graduate of Oxford's doctoral program, still naive to the ways of both the mundane and preternatural worlds. And there she was, the well-bred, spunky American, educated and refined, yet earthy and tough-as-nails. Looking back on it, it'd been easy for him to have been drawn to her, especially considering her luscious body and the lure of the 'sensuous older woman.'
He felt pangs of regret tug at his soul. He blinked several times to clear the moisture from his eyes. If only she had thought to trust him when Faith had been injured, he mused. If she had, perhaps she'd still be alive. The Council could have provided them with some reinforcements in Atlanta, could have sent him . . .
To die at her side, he admitted. That's all that would have happened because the Council had still chosen not to reach out to Rupert Giles and his proven Slayers, to their Section Seven, to the Army of Light. Indeed, he thought bitterly, they were lucky to have not lost Faith on that dreadful day.
That made him smile. "Faith," he breathed her name and shook his head. "My how the tables have turned," he mused. Most assuredly, she'd consider him to be a 'clueless old guy' even though he only had ten years on her or so. When he'd first met her, he'd thought, "She's just a little slip of a girl, a street urchin who'd won the cosmic lottery by being Chosen." Then that little girl single-handedly rescued a busload of parishioners from a gaggle of vampires, albeit without a stitch of clothing. Later, after Linda's death and the reconciliation with the Council, he'd been on the receiving end of one of her devastating punches. He wriggled his jaw, remembering the agony he felt when she'd nearly took his head off. Yet, it was the pain of seeing her fear of him and what she and Linda had believed he'd have done to her after her injury last year that continued to haunt him.
Over the past few weeks, he'd gotten to know her, all of them. And though she was quite young, he grew to admire her je ne sais quoi even after that boorish American boy Xander overheard him and said, "Jeez, Wes, sounds like a fancy way of saying guys like her because evolution programmed us to appreciate boobies and she slays vampires."
He snorted. Nothing so . . . pedestrian . . . drew him to her. It was the mask she wore that shielded her stout heart that caught his attention. Wesley knew a lot about masks. He'd worn one ever since he could remember, hiding all the pain his father had bequeathed to him.
In spite of her courageous, devil-may-care attitude, he knew Linda's death still gave the girl nightmares. It had been something he'd witnessed first hand when they'd all researched late one night and Faith had fallen asleep. And Giles, well, as soon as he'd heard her scream Linda's name, he'd known. He'd rushed to her and hugged her close while she'd cried.
The others had gone back to research, only to cast occasional sympathetic looks at Faith. Wesley wondered how many times that scene had played out before. If not that nightmare, then another.
That's when he'd seen the truth. It wasn't wrong that both Linda and Giles had cared for Faith. A bond like that could never be wrong. If anything, it made Faith stronger, fight harder. She inspired such loyalty, especially with Shaw and Willow. She was quite willing to die for them all, but the opposite was also true. They would all die for her, just as Linda had. Just as he would now, for her, Buffy, or Kendra.
That revelation caused him to shoot a glance at Marion Pryce again. Not many would have taken to heart a person as difficult as Faith, but perhaps she, Linda, and Rupert Giles had seen the qualities that others who weren't as perceptive, he included, had missed in the Dark Slayer. Wesley realized that these three people, nay, four, after Lord Giles' tearful confession earlier concerning his dedication to his own Slayer, had taught Wesley much this day. He realized he could never repay them for what he'd learned. However, if he could help bring Marion and Faith together, maybe he'd tilt the scales a bit to his side of the ledger and could repay some of the debt he owed to the American woman whose friendship and sacrifice had changed his life.
For the first time in his life, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had a clarity of purpose. He knew what he wanted and had finally received his calling. He turned to the Earl of Leicester and said in a strong, clear voice, "Lord Giles, after we land, I'd like to approach your son and request that he'd allow me to become the assistant Watcher for Faith, under his direction, of course, if he'd have me."
The elder Watcher cocked his right eyebrow at that. "Really now?" Then he gave Wesley a sly smile and drawled, "I want a ringside seat to that."
Sunnydale High School Computer Class
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 0955 PST
"So . . . did you get the dress?"
Cordelia Chase cocked an impeccably groomed eyebrow at her friend Patty Driscoll. "Not exactly," she whispered back. "It's on lay-away. I've put fifty down and I'll need to give them three hundred more by this afternoon."
Patty nodded, glanced toward the front of the classroom to see if Ms. Calendar was still writing the program on the blackboard, then said lowly, "So . . . are you going to buy it?"
Cordelia bit her lower lip as she considered her friend's question. If Patty had asked her three months ago, she would have shot an incredulous look at her friend and snapped, "Duh!"
Back then, she'd been a barely-rehabilitated rich bitch who'd fought evil alongside her wardrobe-challenged boyfriend and his loser friends while she Bruce-Wayned through life in her parent's mansion with their servants, expensive furniture, and her two walk-in closets filled with designer clothing. Of course, that was before the Internal Revenue Service had come, seeking back taxes owed by her father on returns that his accountant had never filed, the same accountant who'd Bogarted both with her father's money and her mother. Who were probably, she mused, having the time of his follicle-challenged life and her skanky-cheating-heart life somewhere in a warm country that shared no extradition treaties with the U.S.
Surprisingly, living a life where she had to now consider her purchases carefully didn't really bother her. Sure, the immediate shock of losing the only life she'd ever known knocked her on her ass at first, but Xander and the others had helped her see how rich her new life with them truly was. Added to that, she still had the money that Shaw had given her. With prudent investments, she had nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in her portfolio. Although her father had been stunned when she told him about the money, with Steve's help, she was able to convince him to take half of it to start his new business.
A contented smile flashed onto her face. There had been one silver-lining in this whole mess. She and her dad had grown close, the closest they'd ever been. He'd accepted her decision to move in with Xander, as well as the love that she and Dweeb boy shared. She supposed that seeing how well she'd handled this whole affair had made him see that his little girl had grown up.
She shook herself from her reverie, her smile still on her lips as she looked at Patty and said, "Yeah . . . I'm going to take the plunge."
Patty returned her smile with an easy-going grin. "Good. If you didn't, it'd be a crime. You looked so great in it!"
Cordelia nodded and let a bit of 'Queen C' slip out. "I did, didn't I?" Then she graced the classroom both with the flash of her thousand watt smile and the twinkle of her beautiful brown eyes.
1171 Sandoval Drive
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1001 PST
The gleaming, admantium long sword slid with a 'hiss' into the scabbard strapped to the back of the Chief Executive Officer of VAN Ltd.'s charcoal-gray body armor. She buckled on her gun belt, activating both the environmental and battle systems in the skintight suit that Xanatos Industries had developed for her Amazons. Gabrielle's face was a mask of intense concentration as she adjusted her eyepiece display to ensure a proper fit. She nodded to herself when it felt right, then she stroked the butt of her plasma pistol encased in the holster strapped to her muscular thigh with her right hand. Then she reached across her 'abs of steel' to finger the yin-yang metallic ovoid clipped to her left hip. Once she was satisfied that her chakram was secure, she stepped one foot up on the seat of a nearby chair and inspected the handle of the sai strapped to her right shin. A moment later, she placed that foot on the floor and started to raise her other leg when she felt a presence enter her kitchen.
The Amazon Queen didn't even turn to face the intruder when she said over her shoulder, "If you want some java, Artemis, help yourself. The mugs are in the cupboard above the Mr. Coffee.™"
"Thank you, Gabrielle," the Goddess of the Hunt purred in her usual, husky voice. "I'd love some." The Poteidaian heard the 'creak' of her cabinet door open and close and the sound of coffee being poured. "Since you offered me something to drink and didn't use your Chakram of Light and Dark to kill me, I take it I'm not your target."
Gabrielle turned her head slightly and regarded the Moon Goddess over her right shoulder. "As long as you don't betray the New Amazons, you will live, Artemis. Trust me, if you do, you'll see me coming." Then she reached for her coffee mug on the counter, raised it to her lips, and took a sip. "Won't do you any good, though."
Artemis stared at the Amazon Queen through the steam that wafted up from the goddess's mug and shuddered. "Hera was right." She took a small sip and swallowed. "You're far more frightening than Xena ever was. Xena's menace was obvious to all. You'd just look at her and knew she was deadly. It's not the same with you, though. You hide your true nature behind your innocent facade, Gabrielle. The illusion is so deceptive, I believe you could walk right up to anyone and make him believe he'd accidentally impaled himself on your blade when you gutted him."
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the goddess. "I'm no assassin, Artemis. And I don't intend on killing anyone today. Look, if you don't like the coffee, just say so. I'd prefer that to being insulted in my own home. Now if you'll excuse me," she said, setting her empty cup on the New Hampshire granite counter, "I have to see someone about a personal matter."
"Gabrielle . . . wait!" She glanced at Artemis who stared at her with an earnest look. The goddess took another sip of coffee, apparently gathering her thoughts. "I apologize for my behavior, Gabrielle. I did not come here to fight. It is . . . it's just that . . . I want so much for you and me to move forward . . . "
As the goddess's voice faded off, Gabrielle shook her head and sighed. "I know, Artemis. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. We did promise the girls we'd try to get along. I guess I should do my part."
Artemis smiled warmly and nodded. "And I shall do the same." Then her expression turned serious. "Gabrielle...I came to warn you."
Gabrielle nodded. "I'm listening."
Artemis sighed. "The Fates have foretold that Queen Morgaine will cast a spell against the mortal Amazons here in Sunnydale. This spell will cause them to switch bodies with one another for a short period of time."
Gabrielle growled. "I don't think so. She'll have a hard time casting that spell when she's in tract-"
"No!" the goddess snapped, cutting her off. "That is what I came to tell you. You must not interfere. The Fates were clear that our young ladies will not come to any harm. In fact, the switch will allow them to defeat the true evil without suffering any casualties. Indeed, if Morgaine does not cast her spell, the battle against the darkness will be more difficult and we will lose the opportunity to convert a valuable ally to our cause. You're the key, Gabrielle. Morgaine respects you. For some reason, she looks up to you." A warped grin flashed on Artemis's face. "You seem to have that effect on Hell Bitches."
Gabrielle snorted. "What do you mean by that?"
Artemis cocked an incredulous eyebrow at her and began to recite a litany of names while she ticked each off on the fingers of her right hand. "Xena. Sonja. Cordelia. Andrea. Maxine."
Gabrielle sighed. "All right, already, you've made your point!" Then she raked the fingers of her left hand through her short blonde hair. "Okay, since you're here, why don't you make yourself useful. Andrea said our young monarch had a wild time on the town last night with some Hollywood studmuffin. Andrea's sources indicated she's probably sleeping it off right now at the Liechtenstein embassy in L.A.. Can you get me in past her wards?"
Artemis stroked her chin for a moment. "Probably. Although, in time, she may become even more powerful than either her mother or father, she doesn't have the experience yet to block me out."
The Amazon Queen nodded. "Fine. I want you to transport me to her bedroom. Once there, zap out and leave me behind. I'll handle the rest."
As Artemis prepared for transport, the goddess murmured, "All of a sudden, why do I feel sorry for a certain young monarch?"
Just as they faded from view, Gabrielle smiled wickedly. "Because you know me too well."
317 Bryant Terrace
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1013 PST
When he shuffled toward his office to check his e-mail, Steven St. Wolf heard the rustle of paper as his toe struck something on the floor. He glanced down and found a spiral bound notebook lying there. He bent over, picked it up, and examined the thin, yellow cardboard cover. It had Buffy's name on the cover in bold letters and was covered by doodles. One of the doodles in exaggerated, balloon-like characters stated "Buffy and Steve 4-ever."
The Immortal Warrior stared at the doodle and felt the warmth of his love for his Slayer flow through him as something moist stung the corner of one eye. <She's so young, so beautiful,> he mused. <What the Hell is she doing with damaged goods like me?>
Then his troubled thoughts were disturbed by the sound of his doorbell. He crossed over to the front door, peeked through his peep hole and found Joyce Summers standing outside. He opened the door with a smile and said, "Hello, Joyce!"
The Immortal Slayer's mother smiled warmly at him and chirped, "Hi, Steve! May I come in?"
"Of course," he offered. As she crossed the threshold, she tossed her head slightly and her golden hair caught a glimpse of sunlight.
"I can't stay long, Steve. I just came to talk about Faith and Buffy." He waited patiently for her to continue and after a few moments, she said, "Faith had the nightmare about Atlanta again this morning."
He nodded. "How is she?"
Joyce sighed. "She was in bad shape. They seem to be getting worse."
"I know, I know," he said. "Sidney said that might happen until she's able to forgive herself. That's why we're bringing Marion here. Sid believes she may be the key to help Faith begin to put this behind her."
Joyce nodded. "Well, she still doesn't know about Marion. I hope this thing works out."
"Me, too. Now," he asked, "what did you want to discuss about Buffy?"
"Buffy mentioned to me that she brought the prom up with you this morning."
He nodded. "Yes, she told me about it."
Joyce smiled. "Well, she's floating on cloud nine right now . . . and . . . well, I'm really happy to see her like this. The past few years have been tough on her, as you well know. And I know you care about her."
"Yes," he answered and stared into Joyce's blue eyes. "I love her."
She stared at him for a moment, then reached up and planted a kiss on his left cheek. "I know, Steve," she whispered. Then she gazed deeply into his eyes as she rested both of her hands on his shoulders. "I just hope you love her enough to make it special for her. To you and me, this is a kid's thing. To her, it's a dream come true. With all the darkness and the horror you both face, I'd really be in your debt if you can make it the best night of my baby's life."
He smiled warmly at her, then cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. "No, dear lady, if anyone owes a debt here, it's my debt to you. I'll do everything I can to make it a night she'll remember."
She regarded him with a watery smile. "Promise?"
He kissed her forehead and murmured, "Cross my heart and hope to die."
She chuckled and drawled, "Oh you! That doesn't count! You'd only get back up again if that happened anyway!" Then they laughed together as they held each other and basked under the warmth of the California sun.
Sunnydale High School Library
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1021 PST
Giles strode from his office, his mind still processing the information he'd just gleaned from the Books of Ascensions' pages they'd taken from the Mayor's offices a week ago. As he neared the girls sitting at one of the long tables, he heard snatches of their conversation.
"So, Will," Buffy said, "Organza, huh? You sure you can handle that?"
Cordy snorted. "Get with the program, Little-Miss-Likes-to-Fight! If it were I, I'd rather deal with that than a Taffeta one."
Giles smiled. He loved it when they were like this, a well-oiled machine engaged in the never-ending battle against the forces of evil. He cleared his throat noisily, causing the blonde, the red head, and the brunette to look in his direction. "Are you discussing demons?"
They looked at him as if he had two heads. "No . . . prom dresses," Cordelia replied.
He stared at them for a moment before he closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Then he opened them and shot his patented glare at the three girls. "Silly of me, really, letting a little thing like the Mayor's Ascension stand in the way of your teen-aged priorities."
Buffy rolled her eyes in response, followed in turn, almost as if synchronized, by Cordelia, then Willow. "Gee, Giles! Take a chill pill. We've worked hard all year turning back Apocalypse after Apocalypse. I say that one night of prommy fun and some dressage gal-talk is the least we deserve."
He sighed resignedly. "I understand, Buffy. Really I do. We all deserve some downtime. That's why I've agreed to chaperone. It's just that the only information we have is that the Ascension concerns a human transforming into a demon and becoming the living embodiment of an immortal. And on Graduation Day, our honourable Mayor Wilkins is scheduled to do just that. However, we don't know what kind of demon he may become and we need to continue our research while we still have time."
Buffy popped her gum and stared at him like he was a toddler who needed comforting. "Giles . . . we get it. Miles to go before we sleep."
Willow nodded. "Don't worry, Giles. See," she chirped as she took a book from a stack and opened it on the table in front of her. "We're research girls, at your beck and call!"
As the other girls followed suit, he smiled at the little red witch. "Thank you, Willow. I know I can always count on you." Then he turned to walk toward his office. "I need to fetch something and then I'll return straightaway."
As Giles passed from view, Willow shot a conspiratorial glance at Cordy and Buffy, then whispered, "Okay, I think we all agree that Buffy's Watcher in formal wear penetrates deep into salty goodness territory. What about Wesley?"
Cordy gushed, "I'd bet he would look way double-oh-seven in a tux."
While Buffy blanched and her face copped an 'ewww' look, Willow nodded vigorously at Cordelia and giggled along with the Dark Amazon.
As Giles reached for the Books of Ascension's pages on his desk, his telephone rang. He left the pages where they lay and snatched the receiver from its cradle.
"Hello, Sunnydale High School Library. Mr. Giles speaking."
"Hello, son."
Giles smiled in response to Edwin's voice. "Hello, dad. Where are you?"
"The pilot tells me our ETA in Sunnydale is fifteen minutes. How are things coming along on your end?"
"Splendid. The caterer will arrive at eleven and everything should be ready by eleven-thirty. That's when Faith and Shaw are scheduled to show for their work-study period."
In his mind's eye he could see his father nodding on his end of the connection. "Good, good. Marion can't wait to see her, Rupert. Faith will be so surprised!"
Giles narrowed his eyes and gripped the handset tight. "Dad . . . I'm still not certain that this was such a good idea. Faith may not react the way you and Sidney hope. Seeing Ms. Pryce may rekindle some . . . bittersweet memories about Linda."
His father sighed over the connection. "I know, son. I know. But she needs her, Rupert. Just like Buffy needs Joyce and Kendra needs Joseph. She needs family. Lilian had hers and your Slayers need theirs. It's the surest way to keep them alive, son."
Rupert swallowed a lump in his throat and the sting of a tear in the corner of his right eye. "Yes, yes, dad. You're right. Perhaps that's true for Watchers as well?"
He heard the gentle smile in his father's voice. "Why I'd venture to say it's especially true for the best son/father tandem of field Watchers in history, my boy!"
The two men shared a laugh for a moment until Edwin said, "Oh, before we land, I have to tell you something. Our young Wesley intends to ask you to allow him to become the assistant Watcher for our Dark Slayer. I wanted to give you fair warning."
The muscles in Giles' jaws were as taut as a bowstring. It took several moments of silence before he responded. "Really? Why do you believe I need a warning?"
"Well," his father drawled, "I wanted to let you know before hand so you'd have a chance to let off some steam before I present the boy to you and you up and kill him."
Rupert eyed the receiver harshly. "I wouldn't kill him-"
His father cut him off. "Maiming . . . killing . . . why mince words, Rupert?"
Giles growled. "The pillock lied to her, dad! He told them I'd left Buffy and Kendra to die!"
Edwin sighed. "Rupert . . . he's young. He was told to do that by a misguided, evil man who wielded influence and authority. He could make a lot of people do the wrong thing under the right circumstances, perhaps even you. So you shouldn't hold that against him." His father paused for a moment, then continued. "Look, son. Wesley is a good boy who's had a rough life. I know his father was a mean-spirited blighter who deserved to be flogged for his mistreatment of his son. A lot of people would have been broken by such abuse. Although Wesley is a bit prissy at times, he has a good heart and is a crack researcher. He may be the calming influence our little spitfire needs."
"Excuse me," Giles snapped, "am I chopped liver or something? I am a calm-"
"Hah!" Edwin barked, cutting off his son. "Rupert, you are many things, but calming? Sorry, son-doesn't wash."
Giles grimaced and his father must have pictured his face. "Now, don't get your knickers in a bunch, Rupert. You are the most passionate person I know. Your passion is your strength, son. To you, keeping your Slayer alive isn't merely a job; it's your calling. I'll prove it to you. A vampire has a crossbow bolt aimed at Buffy's heart. You happen to be standing near her when you see the creature prepare to fire. What do you do?"
Without hesitation, he knew the answer because he'd seen it happen like that in his nightmares. "I'd leap in front of her to protect her from the arrow."
"Exactly, Rupert. Exactly. But why? She's Immortal. She wouldn't die."
Giles shifted uncomfortably for a moment before he tried to answer. "Because . . . I'd never be 100 percent certain that it wouldn't kill her and . . . "
"And?"
"And . . . " He looked at his hand as he held the receiver. It was shaking.
"And?"
Giles began to stammer. He slammed his fist on his desk, wincing from the pain he'd hope would help him regain control of his vocal cords. Why couldn't he get the bloody words out?"
"Son," his father cooed over the connection. "Just say it."
Giles squeezed his eyes tight.
"Rupert . . . it's all right. I understand. Say it."
He turned his head away from the telephone as he struggled with the words. Then he caught sight of her through his window as she sat with her friends in the library. Her golden skin shimmered while her blonde hair framed her angelic face with its funny nose that, somehow, because of its imperfection made her even lovelier. One of the other girls said something, causing Buffy to grace the world with a lazy smile that brightened languidly into a thousand watt grin. Giles' breath caught in his throat as he watched her. After that, the words just flowed from his mouth as if they were most plainly evident words the world had ever heard.
"I love her."
He almost heard his father's nod through the connection. "Yes. It's a pure love, a recognition that you are a disciple of a savior of mankind. For so long, She has stood alone between us and the forces of Darkness, so brave, so heartbreakingly fragile yet powerful. The longer you serve them, how could you not grow to love them? Wesley needs to experience that, Rupert. He is almost as intelligent as you are, son. But he has yet to know the passion. He's ready now. He's heard his calling. Help him come to know the agony and the ecstasy that you, Linda, and I've known."
Giles nodded resignedly. "All right. I'll talk to him. However, it has to be her choice."
"Of course."
"And I still need to take it out of his hide about his participation in the Council's little lie to Linda and Faith."
His father snickered. "Too right! I don't want you to kill him, however, a little terror judiciously applied by Ripper and his dad is just what the doctor ordered!"
Somehow, Giles knew that his father's face showed a wicked smirk that mirrored his own.
The morning sun filtered through the windows of the dilapidated house. They were almost completely blackened by shoe polish; however, little glimpses of light were able to peek inside. As the thing rattled the bars of its cage, it kicked up dander and fur that filled the still, musky air. The beast snarled and salivated as it watched the carefully edited scenes of prey garbed in black satin on the television that was positioned to afford it an unfettered view. As the beast banged against the mesh of its confinement in a frenzy, specks of dust danced in the set's cathode ray tube illumination.
Personal Chambers of Queen Morgaine
Embassy of the Monarchy of Liechtenstein
Beverly Hills, California
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1034 PST
A hint of vanilla tickled her nose, startling her from her restful slumber. Morgaine froze every muscle as she lay under her bedclothes. Something was amiss; no member of her staff would have dared to put anything with that cloying scent anywhere near her.
Her fears were confirmed when she heard a soft, throaty voice say, "Rise and shine, your majesty, rise and shine!"
She hesitated, not daring to breathe as she racked her brain for a spell that would allow her to delay the intruder long enough for her to reach her armor. Then the voice said, "Morgaine . . . you faker! Get up. I know you're awake. I heard the breath catch in your throat when you realized you weren't alone."
The fey girl's dark eyes blinked several times. She considered tossing both caution and her covers to the wind, followed by several eldritch energy bolts at her intruder but decided against such a rash act mainly because she knew it'd be useless. Her intruder would be fully prepared for such a stratagem so she had to think of something else. Sighing, she shrugged the covers down over her bare breasts and sat up in all her glory to face the intruder.
She found Gabrielle standing at the foot of her ebony wood, sleigh bed, eyeing her breasts appreciably with a pleased smile on her face. "Hail and well met, Queen of Liechtenstein, Granddaughter of the Fey."
She shot an annoyed glare at the Immortal. "Hail, Queen of the Amazons, Wielder of the Sword of Destiny Purity," Morgaine muttered as she raked her long, brown, sleep-matted hair out of her eyes. "What fricking time is it, anyway, you Bitch?"
"A little after ten-thirty. I'm surprised to find you alone, little witch," the bard said. Morgaine cringed. She hated when Gabrielle called her that. "I thought your movie-star studmuffin might've still been here."
Morgaine sighed and flopped back onto her bed. "He had an early make-up call, if it's any of your business. Coffee?"
Gabrielle nodded. "I'll take it if you're having some."
Morgaine grunted. Then she called out to the room. "ISIS."
The artificial intelligence program that ran the mansion's computer system responded. "Yes, Mistress."
"Have Heloise prepare a fresh pot of coffee and a basket of pastries. Include cups and dishes for two, please, and have them brought to my private chambers."
"By your command, Mistress."
Gabrielle cocked a well-groomed blonde eyebrow at her. "Very formal household you run here, little witch."
She winced again. "Whether you're a queen of a household or a country, order and discipline is paramount to the survival of both."
"Wow . . . " the Amazon Queen drawled, "with an outlook like that, you'd have been right at home in the Third Reich."
The Liechtenstein Queen frowned. "That's not funny."
Gabrielle simply gave her a neutral look. "It wasn't meant to be. You need to lighten up, Morgaine. Your mother had a similar attitude . . . you saw where that got her."
"Yes . . . gunned down by my father."
She glared at Gabrielle and the Immortal Bard returned it with her own in spades. "I don't approve of what he did, Morgaine. I don't like to kill any creature with a soul. And although your mother was a menace to humanity, she had a soul. So do you. Don't follow her down the path of ruin, Morgaine. I'm sure both your father and I would hate to lose you to the darkness."
Morgaine narrowed her eyes and saw the honesty in the bard's sweet face. "You won't," she said, nodding at Gabrielle. "Now, if you'll turn around for a few moments, I'll get up and slip something on."
Gabrielle smiled slyly and purred, "Oh, don't mind me, dear. It isn't like I'm seeing something I haven't seen before, now is it?"
At that, Morgaine rolled her eyes, threw her covers to the side, padded to her closet, and muttered under her breath, all the while complaining about perverted, bedroom-invading, lesbo bitches. . . .
They sat at the small table on her balcony, enjoying the sunshine, the coffee, and the delicious pastries. Gabrielle took another sip of coffee, then set her cup on the table. "I have a favor to ask of you. If you choose to grant it, then you may consider your debt to me paid in full."
Morgaine grunted. "You must really be desperate for you to come to me for help so soon after saving my life from that Überbitch Tzitzimitl during the Tzitzimime War."
Gabrielle stared at her with those beautiful, crystal blue eyes that made her want to lose herself inside them. "Yes." The Amazon Queen stared into the depths of the coffee in her mug for a moment, then said, "I understand that you have created a time machine. Is it capable of transporting a number of people fifteen thousand years or so into the past?"
Morgaine grimaced. "Your intelligence capabilities are astounding, majesty."
Gabrielle shot a neutral glance at her. "Don't get pissed, Morgaine. I'm not telling anyone about it, not even St. Wolf. So the U.S. government won't learn about it from any Amazon. Just tell me . . . can it go back that far?"
"Yes."
"How many people?"
"It depends. If we want to transmit the whole person, body and all, armed such as yourself, perhaps two, maybe three. If we only sent their astral forms, perhaps as many as ten. Why?"
The Immortal Bard turned to fully stare into Morgaine's eyes. "Early this morning, a woman from Sonja's past accused Sonja of butchering her family right in front of her eyes when she was a child. Sonja herself was probably seventeen or eighteen at the time and emotionally distraught because she believed she was avenging a sexual assault possibly committed against her by this woman's father. This woman wants to make Sonja pay for the lives of her family by taking my head. If I refused her challenge, she threatened the lives of my Amazons. You should know I take ANY threat or harm against my Amazons," she said with a growl and hooded eyes, "dead seriously."
There wasn't much that could frighten the scion of le Fey, but the look and the Amazon Queen's implied warning had her complete attention. "W-why don't you simply kill her and be done with it?"
"I don't want to do that unless there's no other way. I hope that if we can take them both back to the incident and view it objectively, we may be able to avoid any bloodshed. If not, well, we'll at least know the truth. Can you do it?"
Morgaine snorted. "Of course. It's child's play."
Gabrielle sighed deeply. "How long will it take for you to prepare the machine?"
The Queen of Liechtenstein shrugged. "It'll be ready by Thursday night. Is that soon enough to suit you?"
Gabrielle nodded.
Morgaine took another sip of coffee, then squinted at Gabrielle over the rim. "One thing, though. How are you going to persuade this woman to come along for the ride?
A wicked smile spread across Gabrielle's face. "How would you like to put on that armor of yours and learn how Amazons hunt our prey?"
Morgaine responded with a predator's smile of her own.
"Sounds like fun."
Sunnydale High School Hallway Near the Library
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1127 PST
"Pryce! Hunter! Stop right there!"
The Dark Slayer cringed when she heard the grating voice of Principal Snyder. She rolled her eyes and flashed a disgusted look at her half-elven soul sister before she turned to face the rapidly approaching troll.
She held her tongue as Shaw addressed the irritating man. "Good morning, sir. May we be of assistance to you in some manner?"
Snyder narrowed his eyes momentarily as he regarded Shaw before his suspicious look morphed into one of smarmy self-satisfaction. "Why . . . yes, Hunter, yes you can. I have a problem that I'm assigning you two to solve for me. Unfortunately, Walt Smit of 'Smitty in the Morning' came down with a horrendous viral infection last night. He's the disc jockey that we hired for the prom. According to his doctor, he's out of action for at least a week."
"That is indeed unfortunate, sir."
"Yes, Hunter, it would be except that I'm sure that two responsible and school-spirit-minded juniors such as you wouldn't want to let down the entire senior class on the biggest night of their worthless lives." Then the smile disappeared from his face. "You have two days to find a new disc jockey for the prom, ladies." He pulled several pages of the classified section of the newspaper from under his left arm and thrust them at Faith. "Here are some resources that may help you with your search." Then the smarmy smile returned. "Now I know you don't want to let your classmates down, so I can count on you to get the job done, can't I?"
Faith sputtered. "In two days?!? You can't be serious!"
He glared at her. "As serious as a heart attack, Pryce. Now, don't you two have somewhere you've got to be?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Shaw said as she grabbed Faith by her wrist and dragged her toward the entrance to the library.
The Dark Slayer hit the door so hard it banged into the side wall. She steamed through it in the midst of a full-blown rant. "As Gawd is my witness, 'Kay, I'm gonna get even with Snyder some day, just you wai-!" She stopped short when she smelled the scent of food in the library. Then when she saw a lovely middle-aged woman in a smart suit and skirt ensemble standing next to the Weasel, G-man, Calender Girl, and G-Senior, Faith couldn't utter another word.
The woman's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared at the Dark Slayer. Faith said nothing as the other woman watched her. She felt the pounding of her heart in her throat as time seemed to stretch from a mere moment to infinity. <Oh Gawd . . . oh Gawd . . . please don't hate me for letting Linda die! Please don't . . . >
Then Marion Pryce smiled warmly at her, raced across the distance between them, and grabbed Faith up in a warm, motherly hug. "Oh, Faith! My darling little tyke! I was so afraid I'd lost you both!"
Unseen by the other woman, Faith's bewilderment showed on her own face. <MP doesn't hate me?> As Marion wept and brushed gentle kisses against Faith's forehead, she blinked several times as her tears of relief spilled from her own eyes. <She doesn't hate me,> she thought, answering her own silent query.
After a few moments, Marion pulled back slightly and peered into her eyes. "I am so happy to see you."
Faith nodded and smiled through her tears. "Ya think?"
Marion chuckled and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "All right, all right. I'll stop making such a fuss over you-"
"No!" she snapped. At Marion's puzzled look, Faith quickly added, "I mean, it's okay." Then she pulled Marion to her for another hug. "I've missed you, too, MP."
"You think?" Marion quipped.
Both women laughed for a moment before Faith pulled back to look into Marion's face. "How did you know where to find me?"
Marion smiled and glanced toward the Watchers. "Lord Giles and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce were kind enough to contact me and to tell me that you were alive and well here in Sunnydale. They escorted me here this morning so we could surprise you. I think we succeeded at that, don't you?"
Faith nodded. "I'll say. I had no idea."
"Nor did I," came a quiet voice behind Faith.
The Dark Slayer glanced over her shoulder at her soul sister, then turned back to Marion. "Er, uh . . . what should I call you? I mean-"
Marion smiled. "Marion or Aunt Marion would be just fine, honey."
Faith returned her smile with her own. "Okay. Aunt Marion, this is my better half," she said with a sweep of her hand toward the half elf. "Shaw Hunter."
Marion nodded at Faith's soul sister. "Hello, Shaw."
Shaw bowed slightly and said, "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Pryce. Welcome to Sunnydale."
"Why thank you, Shaw." Marion answered pleasantly. "Would you like to join us for lunch? I've been told that the food is going to be quite delicious and there's more than enough of it to put some meat on the bones of you two. My goodness, you both look like you're . . . stick-figure Barbie dolls!"
As Marion chattered on and lead the two warriors toward the buffet table, Faith quietly thanked Shaw with a look of gratitude for accepting Marion's mother-henning and basked in the attention from the woman who had taken her into her home and her heart a lifetime ago.
"Well," Rupert Giles said, "it seems that Sidney was right. They're getting along splendidly." Then he turned to Wesley. "Why don't we go into my office for a moment and rejoin them later?"
A lump began to form in Wesley's throat. As he followed Giles, Ms. Calendar, and Lord Giles into the librarian's office, for some reason, he felt like a condemned man being taken to his own execution.
The patter of raindrops resounded against the sole exterior window as Giles closed the door behind them after they had entered his sanctum sanctorum. Giles gestured for the young Watcher to sit in a chair next to his desk. "I believe you have something you wanted to ask me, Wesley?"
Wesley shot a quick glance at Lord Giles. The elder man nodded almost imperceptibly in response. Wesley took a deep breath, reached up and straightened his tie, and said, "Yes. I had an epiphany recently, Mr. Giles, regarding my calling as a Watcher. I know that I have been somewhat rigid and dogmatic in the past concerning my feelings about the proper way to train and work with the Slayers. I now realize that my approach was wrong and I wish to start fresh. If you feel it is in Faith's best interest, I would like to help her by becoming her assistant Watcher, under you, of course."
Giles regarded him cooly. "I see."
Wesley gulped. "I'm sure you would like some time to consider-"
"I've already made my decision on this matter, Wyndam-Pryce."
Wesley's eyes shot wide open. "Please, Mr. Giles. I'm not the same person I was when I came to Sunnydale with Mr. Travers last year. If you'll just give me a-"
"Yes."
"...chance, I know I can prov-"
"Yes."
Wesley's stammering mouth snapped shut. "Excuse me...did you say...yes?"
Giles cocked an eyebrow at him and nodded.
The younger Watcher blinked several times in rapid succession. "Oh." Then his body slumped down in the chair. "I thought you were going to turn down my request."
Giles sighed. "Obviously." The elder Watcher removed his spectacles and cleaned them vigorously for several moments as he regarded Wesley. "I only knew I was going to approve it when you asked just now." The younger man gaped at Giles as he continued. "You see, when you said you wanted only what was in Faith's best interest and that you wanted to help her, that convinced me that you were worthy to be her Watcher. To truly be the Watcher for these Slayers, Wesley, you must be prepared to do whatever it takes to support them, to be there for them, even when it interferes with your own personal needs or wants." For a moment, Giles cast a meaningful look at Jenny Calendar and saw something in her eyes that made his eyes glisten. Then he regained his composure and regarded Wesley again. "It was important that I saw your willingness to consider Faith's needs above your own or the Council's. So I'm willing to give you the opportunity, however, you're not out of the woods, as it was. We must approach Faith and ask her if she's willing to have you join us in that capacity. Although I will let her know my thoughts on the matter, the final decision rests with her, understand?"
Wesley nodded. "Of course, Mr. Giles. Thank you."
Giles grunted. "Don't thank me yet, Wesley. There's something else you need to know." Then Giles flashed across the short distance between them so quickly Wesley had no time to react when the Empowered Watcher gripped him by his throat. "I really hope she lets you become her assistant Watcher, you wanker, 'cause I'll make sure you pay for spreading those lies about me to Linda and Faith!"
Wesley nearly lost control of his bladder as he realized he had finally come face to face with-the Ripper. "Know this, boy. If you ever lie to her, hurt her, or betray her in any way, I'll kill you. And when I do, it won't be quick and it won't be clean. I promise it'll be extremely painful and you'll die very badly. And it won't end there. After I send you off on the express train to Bloody Hell, I'll make certain that JP Withers finds you down there and continues to torment you."
At that, Giles released his grip on Wesley's throat and made a show of brushing off the shoulders of the younger man's jacket and straightening the frightened Watcher's regimental tie. "Do we have an understanding, Wyndam-Pryce?"
"Y-yes," a terrified Wesley stammered hoarsely.
Giles nodded pleasantly. "Good show. Well then . . . " Giles said over his shoulder as he walked to the door, opened it, and prepared to leave with Jenny close behind. "Welcome to the team, Wesley."
After the Empowered Watcher and the Amazon Witch had left the room, a thoroughly shaken Wesley turned toward Lord Giles when the elder man chuckled and murmured, "Now . . . that's entertainment!"
Exterior Quadrangle
Sunnydale High School
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1210 PST
[This Section is Rated NC-17 for sexual situations]
Giles struggled to regain control over the vicious part of himself as he raced out of his office. He mumbled his apologies and flung himself out the nearest door. Moments later, he landed at the edge of the football field. He cut a straight line across to the bleachers, his shoes squishing down in the soaked grass from the sudden thunder burst. Despite his coat, it soon soaked his collar and ran coldly down his back.
It wasn't any drier under the bleachers. The lack of grass only made it muddier and the water that hit him here had the added force of pooling on a seat first before pouring over the side.
He walked under the bleachers until he reached the end, then stopped and took a breath. He was at the school's property boundary now but on the wrong side of the building from the parking lot.
Giles hoisted himself up into the bleachers, taking a wet seat near the top. He pocketed his glasses, closed his eyes, and leaned back into the rain.
When he felt the tremble of her step, he didn't bother looking. He never thought she'd follow.
Jenny sat beside him. "God, England, you couldn't have taken a walk indoors?"
He gripped her hand. She grew quiet, so quiet that only the pressure of her touch indicated she was there at all.
When the rain started to fall harder, he felt her shift beside him. He opened his eyes to see her trying to wipe her face with a wet tissue.
"This was a bright idea," she muttered.
He regarded her for so long that she finally burst out, "What, Rupert?"
"I never wanted you to see me like that."
"Oh, come on." She gave him a little nudge. "I've seen you go all Ripperish before. Remember the killer we turned over to Artemis? You were in fine form then, you know."
He sighed. "Not really, Jenny. That fiend was a mad dog that needed to be put down. Our young friend in there, though," he indicated the library with a casual nod, "was simply misguided. He certainly didn't deserve to have me threaten him to within an inch of his life."
"Well," Jenny drawled, "at least he knows where he stands now. And after that performance, he'll certainly avoid getting on either yours or Faith's bad side."
Giles snickered. "Too right!"
Jenny laughed. Then she graced him with a sexy smile through the rivulets of rainwater that streamed down her face. "Besides," she drawled, "I thought it was kind of sexy, in a caveman, macho sort-of-way . . . "Then she graced him with a 'come-hither' look before turning her attention above them. "It's really starting to come down."
Giles undid his coat and wrapped one side around her, drawing her to him. She hugged him, trying to get warm, then she placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled his lips down to hers.
He returned the kiss hard, aroused by the contrast of her cool damp skin and remarkably warm mouth. Her sweater, swollen with water, pressed against his shirt. He pushed it up out of his way as she shifted around to straddle his lap, her movement putting her breasts miraculously in his hands. He stroked them, sliding his palms over her nipples. She shifted again and he groaned as she came in contact with his rising erection.
Jenny broke the kiss. "Do you want to stop?" she asked in a bare whisper.
"No," Giles answered truthfully, surprising himself. "But it's all right if you do." Unconsciously he continued to rub his groin side to side along hers.
She smiled at him, a different smile than the one she'd given him earlier. Then she leaned over him and gently began to nibble on his ear.
"My God," he murmured, letting one hand slide around her back to the curve of her behind. It was all he managed to say as she dove for another kiss, seemingly as ravenous for it as he was.
Unexpectedly she stood, breaking the contact so abruptly that he teetered, nearly falling off the bench. He grabbed the metal tier under him as she laughed but it was an eager sound, unrestrained but not mocking. While looking down at him impishly, she reached under her skirt and pulled down her underwear.
As his gaze traveled to the curls at the juncture of her thighs, she said in a hushed voice, "Touch me," and guided his hand to the spot. He let his fingers slide between her nether lips into her hot and moist interior. "Harder," she directed. But he withdrew his hand and looked up at her.
"I'm not going to beg," she told him and he smiled at her words. Placing his hands on her backside, he yanked her pussy to his mouth and snaked his tongue in deeply.
Jenny hissed as she tried to find a handhold on his shoulders. The pitch forward brought to mind a dizzy ride when she was a child, teetering on the handlebars of a bicycle plunging down a rough steep hill.
But she didn't fall. He held her perfectly, easily. She marveled at it, then gave herself over to him, closing her eyes and raising her face to the rain.
His nose found her clitoris first, then his tongue. He explored wildly and she whimpered above him. Hearing it, he swirled his tongue around her nub, feeling it throb and harden into a fierce point. She was moving, trusting him not to let her fall, and he fell into her rhythm until it degenerated into ragged short thrusts and then into one tense rigid pose. She came in his mouth and her core drenched his face profusely.
Afterwards, she slid down his front and, uncaring of her musk, kissed him deeply.
Giles brought her hand to the front of his pants.
"Let me catch my breath," his fiancee said.
"No."
She met his eyes and flashed an eager and willing grin. She carefully undid his fly, reaching her fingers in to keep the zipper from scratching his erection. He rose up enough to let his clothes drop. When he settled on the bench again, she gave his shaft one gentle slow stroke, then positioned her sex over it and slid him inside.
He groaned. She was always so tight, almost like a virgin, every time he entered her. The richness of his dark, Gypsy lover's slick, textured passage made him laugh despite the knowledge he'd had of her nearly every night since they had become soul mates. Every time he was inside of this woman, he rediscovered his unquenchable need for her.
He rocked upwards, trying to find an angle that would accommodate the unyielding metal tier below him. He ended up almost completely back, his shoulders on the next bench up and his hands braced on the gritty dank cement under the seats while she rocked feverishly above him. Her mouth returned to his, cold from the inclement air, then fervently warm. Her inner walls clung to his shaft on every downstroke and squeezed with every thrust in. His cock edged into the final stiffness, the precipice of orgasm when her passage suddenly deepened. Then he touched bottom as her pussy gripped him like a velvet vice, forcing him to groan in her mouth and empty his seed inside her.
When Giles finally opened his eyes, Jenny was looking down at him thoughtfully.
"I'm never going to look at these bleachers in the same way again," she said and he laughed with her as he straightened back up, taking her with him in his lap, and kissed her gently, lovingly.
"I'm so sorry, Jenny," he told her in a hoarse whisper, "I never should have blamed you . . . "
"Shh, Rupert," she said and kissed him reverently. "She needed you to be on her side after Angel turned on her. I understand and I'm sorry, too. We're in this together from now on, my love. Always remember that and know that I love you with all my heart." She smiled at him and he returned her smile. Then she gave him one more kiss before the sound of thunder boomed in the sky. At that Jenny abruptly climbed off and said, "Ok, we're done." Then she found her panties and stuffed them in his coat pocket.
He gave her a blank stare.
"What? Do you want to cuddle or something?" she asked.
"Um . . . well. . . ."
"Out here in the pouring rain? In the lightning while we're on a metal bench? You can cuddle yourself because I've got to get into some dry clothes."
He dressed slowly, struggling with his sodden trousers while she waited for him. Then, she took his hand and led him back across the field and through the doors near the library.
The Vatican
Private Chambers of Cardinal Bellarmine
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 2130 Local Time
A polite rapping on his door stirred Thomas from his dark thoughts. "Yes?" he answered.
His assistant spoke to him from the other side of the door. "Your eminence . . . I've just received a report that says a thunderstorm has just reached the central California coast. I wanted to make certain that you received word as soon as possible per your instructions."
Thomas smiled grimly. "Thank you, David. I appreciate the news. That'll be all."
"Yes, your eminence," his assistant said and walked away.
Thomas sighed deeply. He stood up and crossed over to his wardrobe. He opened the mahogany doors of the ornate closet to reveal a locked box. He dialed the combination to unlock the chest and when it clicked open, he raised the lid to uncover a crystal ball on a pedestal that had carvings of demons on it. Ebon mist swirled inside the ball as he stared into the artifact. Thomas placed the item in the middle of a pentagram painted on top of a mat of dried human flesh, lying on the floor. Although he struggled to keep the bile from racing up his esophagus, Cardinal Bellarmine pressed on. There was no turning back now. It was tonight or never. Although he shuddered at the loss of life that would surely come, he reminded himself again that the ends justified the means. Without their Queen, the Amazons would soon be gone and the pagan gods, particularly the female warriors' Bitch Goddess, would be banished from this plane forever more. Then, when the Savior returned to do battle with evil, only the faithful would share in the glory of his triumph, not the Nine nor their Amazon allies.
He looked at her picture once more before he began to cast the spell. She was so lovely, as beautiful and innocent-looking as a fawn. But he knew, better than anyone, that appearances were quite deceiving. She was ancient, far older than he. While he counted his lifetime in centuries, she had lived for several millennia. He knew she'd be hard to kill. So to make certain she wouldn't live past tomorrow, he had realized that he had to send something even more difficult to kill than she. Something that had never lived at all. Something that could never die.
The Cardinal stared into the dark sphere and began to chant his incantation. The mists swirled faster and faster in response to his mystical power, ready to find it. To focus on the subject of his search, he began to hum a nursery rhyme, a child's dream rhyme turned adults' worst conceivable nightmare. Then in the darkness he found it, the forgotten child of evil and entropy just after a masked blonde beauty dressed in the colors of the American flag had leapt clear of some train tracks and just before the approaching express train struck it. Then in a blink of an eye, Thomas uttered the transportation incantation and plucked the thing from that place and moment in time.
Thomas began to pant now. The thing was massive. Over seven feet tall, nearly six hundred pounds. Transporting something that massive and resistant to magic over time and space would tax even Merlin. Thomas was nowhere near as powerful as the arch mage. However, he had the fire of the truly committed, the zeal to see this thing through. He chanted again and made mystic gestures that cast a spell to deconstruct the creature in transit, allowing him to conserve his energy. As he fought to maintain his control over these dangerous spells, the picture in his globe swirled once more to show a desolate swamp outside of the Mouth of Hell. As he directed his remaining energy into the sphere, Thomas groaned and collapsed on the floor. As he struggled to maintain his grip on consciousness, he stared into the orb, looking for something, anything. A sign.
A bolt of lightning came down from the forlorn California sky. It struck a tree along the banks of the swamp, snapping it in two. As the top portion of the shattered trunk toppled into the dank water, Thomas smiled. Now, he only had to hold on long enough to plant her image, the ability to track her Quickening, and his instructions into whatever passed for the creature's mind. Then he could die in peace. Afterwards, when he revived, he'd destroy both the mat and the globe, and hoped that God would understand and forgive him for unleashing an entity of pure, seething hate on that woebegone town.
Diablo Swamp
Outskirts of Sunnydale, California
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1347 PST
It started with a spark. A big one.
In the waters of a swamp, like once before, it began to reconstitute from the material of the shattered tree. Minutes passed and as they did, muscle and bone grew. Soon thoughts began to form.
<I...live . . . again.> it noted to itself.
Then a new purpose took shape in its mind.
<Find . . . Amazon . . . Queen . . . kill her dead . . . and . . . rip off her head! Yes!> it thought. <This will be a good Monday-> It paused, mindless and uncaring of its mistake concerning the date, as it stood up on pillars of pale gray, nearly-as-massive-as-tree-trunk legs, rose from the swamp muck, and said, "For Solomon Grundy!"
Sunnydale High School Library
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1600 PST
As the Dark Slayer, her soul sister, Marion, Edwin, and Jenny walked toward the door, Giles said, "Faith, may I have a word with you?"
She turned and faced him. "What's up, G-man? We're just getting ready to take Aunt Marion over to Slayer House."
He smiled. "Ah . . . the bastion of distaff empowerment."
She regarded him with a dazed look. "Say what?!?"
He shook his head and muttered under his breath. "Never mind. I suppose it's too much to ask for you to learn how to speak English."
She glared at him. "Yeah . . . well, if you want me to speak English, maybe you should use it more often!"
He shot her an extremely annoyed look. She responded with a cheeky grin. He bit his lip so he wouldn't smile and guided her into his office. He gently led her to the chair next to his desk and sat down in his swivel chair. Then he pursed his lips for several long moments before he leaned forward so he could peer up at her. "Faith . . . I've got something to tell you that may be a little difficult for you to hear. Please let me get it out before you respond to it, all right?"
She leaned forward and reached for his hand. "Hey, Giles . . . man, you're scaring me. What's the what?"
He gently rubbed his thumb against her knuckle and flashed his shy, but reassuring smile. "Shh. There's no need to be frightened, luv. You have total and complete control over this. Always remember I will never force you to do anything against your will, okay?"
She smiled shyly at him. <Luv?!? He's never called me that before!> she mused. <Although I probably should be freaking about now, I kinda like it!>
"Okay," he continued, "here it is then. Wesley has asked if he could work with us as my assistant Watcher assigned to you."
Faith narrowed her eyes. "Say . . . what?"
"He wants to help you by becoming your assistant Watcher under my direction. I discussed the matter with him and I believe him to be sincere. However, I also made it clear to him if and how much he can assist you is totally up to you."
She glared at him. "I don't fricking believe this! That weasel lied to Linda and me about you and my sisters and you want to let him work with us?"
He regarded her silently for a moment. "Actually . . . I don't."
She gave him a puzzled look. "Then . . . why . . . " she trailed off.
He sighed. "Because it's the best thing for you, Faith. I...care for you all so very deeply. The three of you are my Slayers . . . my girls." He gave her a wan smile. "But you all deserve one person who's totally devoted to you, and only you. Buffy has Steven. Kendra has Joseph. You need someone as well. Faith . . . I had probably an even harder time forgiving him than you. After all the lies he told you concerning aspects of my character that, I'd suspect, made you think badly of me, I wasn't sure if I could work with him. However, when I looked into his eyes today I saw the same look that my Father had for his Slayer, that Joseph has for Kendra, the one I'm sure Linda had for you, and the one that I see when I look in the mirror and think about the three of you."
Although she felt a tad uncomfortable staring into his passionate green orbs, she cracked a smile and drawled, "Wow, King G, I never knew you felt that way about us. Though I gotta say, if I wasn't so touched by what you just said, I might've been wigged."
He chuckled warmly and she was mesmerized by the sound. "I quite agree. If my father hadn't pointed it out to me earlier, I might have been 'wigged,' too." Then his face turned serious. "Faith, you don't have to rush into this. Take your time and make the decision that feels right to you, all right?" She nodded. "Just promise me that you'll seriously consider it."
He released her hand and she blinked a few times. Then she stood up and moved to the door. She turned the knob and swung the door toward her, then glanced over her shoulder. "I'll think it over, Boss Man."
He smiled. "Thank you, Faith." Then as she turned to leave, he added, "Oh . . . perhaps you'd be interested in considering this particular cloud's silver lining?"
She turned her head. "Yeah?"
He shot Ripper's grin her way. "Since the punching bag was destroyed last week by you lot, he'd make a fine replacement, wouldn't you agree?"
Faith's grin matched his own. "You know," she drawled, "I would have loved to party with you when you were younger, cowboy!"
Then the Watcher and his Slayer snickered for several moments before Faith strutted out to join the party heading for Joyce's house.
April Fool's Formal Wear Store
Sunnydale, California
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1610 PST
"What the Hell-where is it?!?" Cordelia screamed.
"What?" Patty asked. She was shaken by Cordy's outburst. It almost sounded like she was in full panic mode.
"My dress!" She pointed to the display case in the front of the store. "I had a deal with the manager that she'd save it for me if I paid her the layaway fee and let her use it for display purposes."
Willow cooed, "Take it easy, Cordy. There might be a good explanation for all of this. Let's not be too hasty."
Patty nodded in agreement and placed a comforting hand on Cordelia's shoulder. She knew as well as Will that it was best to keep Cordy from going ballistic. After all, the manager probably had family that would miss the woman after she was gone if Cordelia ever got her hands on her.
The Dark Amazon stormed through the door and marched to the counter with Patty and Willow close behind. When they reached the counter, Cordelia snapped, "Where's the manager? I need to see her . . . now!"
As the girl behind the counter glimpsed nervously about, the manager walked through a door on the wall behind the register. A friendly smile flashed on her face when she saw Cordy. "Ah, Ms. Chase! This is quite a surprise! Did you change your mind?"
The woman's genial manner and question seemed to stall Hurricane Cordelia's wrath. "Change my mind?" Cordy responded, sounding confused.
"About having your dress delivered. It would be no trouble at all for us to deliver it if you'd like, but if you'd rather take it now, it's ready to go."
Cordy blinked several times as she seemed to process what the woman had just told her. "There must be some mistake. I came to pay the outstanding amount on the dress I had on layaway."
The woman pursed her lips. "But, Ms. Chase, it's already been paid for. The gentleman you sent over earlier settled your account. Here's the receipt." She picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Cordy. As the Dark Amazon studied it, the manager said, "See?"
"I don't understand . . . wait a minute. This man . . . do you remember what he looked like?"
The woman blushed. "Why, yes. He was quite handsome, a gentleman around my age or so. He had your hair color and was very tall, well over six feet."
Cordy's eyes narrowed. Then they shot open, clearly showing her surprise. "Daddy?" she muttered. She opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and showed a picture to the manager. "Is this the man you saw?"
The manager smiled. "Yes, that's him. He's your father?" Cordelia nodded. "Well, now I can see the family resemblance."
Cordy flashed a thin smile at the woman. "Thank you."
"Not at all. Well, would you like to take the dress now?"
Cordy nodded. "Yes, yes I would. Thanks."
The woman went through the door behind the counter and, after a few moments, returned with a gift wrapped box. "Here you are," she said and handed the package to Cordelia.
After they had exchanged a few pleasantries, the woman left the three girls standing next to the counter. Patty finally relaxed. "Cordy, wow! Your dad is so cool to do that for you!"
"Yeah . . . he is," Cordy said with a smile. "But he shouldn't have. Money's tight for him since he started over after that accountant ripped us off. I'm not sure he can afford this."
"Hey, guys," Willow whispered under her breath. "Over there," she indicated with a nod. "It's Alison Jarman."
Cordelia and Patty smiled. It was nice to see Alison getting fitted in her dress for the prom. Then a flash of movement to her left made Patty glance in that direction. "Hey, I think I see that Jennifer Hewitt girl next to that rack near the window." Her companions glimpsed toward the window and as Cordelia nodded, Willow uttered an annoyed grunt. Patty turned to Will with a questioning look and asked, "Do you have a problem with her?"
As Willow narrowed her eyes, Cordy stared at the red head for a moment, then rolled her own eyes and shot a playful jab into Willow's arm.
"Ow! What was that for?"
Cordy returned Willow's glare with her own. "Just stop it. It's not her fault that she looks a little like her."
"Yeah, well," Willow muttered, "it's too close for comfort, if you ask me. I mean, look at her! She always wears a top one-size too small to make her chest look bigger-"
Cordy snorted. "You got something against busty hotties, Netgirl? Sounds like titty envy to me."
Willow ignored Cordelia and continued to rant. "And she always wears something to show off her belly button! Wouldn't surprise me if she and that skanky ho were related somehow."
"Maybe," Cordelia drawled, "but I don't think she wears invincible battle armor and looks to pick fights with you like-"
"Hey, hey!" Patty snapped. "Do you guys mind telling me what the Hell you're talking about?"
Cordy snorted. "There's this Hell bitch sorceress who's smarter than Will-"
"Hey!" Willow snapped.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Who I and the rest of the world, other than Delusional Girl here, think is smarter than Will." She pressed on as Willow harumphed. "Who's not only a witchy type but also a super-duper engineer like Tony Stark. For some reason, although she's not a white hat like us, she helped us once, that is, when she and our little firecracker here weren't vying for the 'Überbitch of the Year Award!'" Then she glared at the red head. "I can't believe you were going to throw down against her, Will. I bet she had an industrial strength can of whoop-ass with your name on it, ready and waiting."
Willow grumbled, "I could've taken that skanky, Jennifer-Love-Huge-tits knock-off on my worse day."
"Sure, Will," Cordelia drawled and patted Willow on the top of her head. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that enough times maybe you'll be able to convince yourself of that someday."
Patty waved her hands and interrupted the two Amazons. "Wait a minute! Hold the phone! She's as good as Tony Stark?"
Cordy nodded while Willow snorted.
"Wow . . . Tony Stark, huh? He's so dreamy."
Then Willow grinned. "I'll say. He's even better looking in person!"
Patty's eyes shot wide open and she gasped. "No way!"
Now both Amazons grinned at her. "Way," Cordy said.
"That's the bomb!" Then she eyed them suspiciously. "Did you guys really meet him or are you just yanking my chain?"
Willow shook her head. "Nope. And it gets even better. We got to see him," she cooed and paused for effect, "in . . . his . . . Speedo."
As she regarded the two young women with Cheshire cat grins on their faces, Patty shook her head and muttered, "Sometimes, I SO hate you guys."
1171 Sandoval Drive
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1614 PST
When the telephone rang, Sonja halted her sword in midstroke over her whetstone and peeked at the device from under the curtain of her scarlet hair. She sheathed her backup sword, walked over to the telephone, and snatched it from its cradle. "Hello?"
"I'm sorry."
Sonja snarled when she recognized Gabrielle's voice. "What did you do with it, you bitch!"
"It's underneath my side of the mattress."
Sonja blinked twice. Damn. She'd never have thought to look for it there. Then she recovered her anger. "What the Hell were you think-"
Gabrielle cut her off. "We don't have time for this, Sonja. I'm going to deal with her in my own way and I don't need you going off half-cocked under the misguided notion that I need your protection."
"Gabby . . . she's after you because of me. I'm the one who should handle it. It's my responsibility."
"No. Since she's after me and my Amazons, it's more my problem than it is yours. We do this together, Sonja. Together. That's the deal."
Sonja grumbled. "Fine. But know this. If you ever touch my sword again without asking my permission, I'll-"
The snap in Gabby's tone cut her off. "Don't say it, Red! All I did was keep you from committing murder. If you had, it would have been over between us. Do you really want to throw away everything we've built over the years in a blink of an eye?" She could almost hear her lover's tears through the connection. "Damn it, Sonja! I love you. I always have." Gabrielle paused, drew a deep breath, and asked, "If the Game were real and we were the last two left, who'd win the Prize?"
Sonja gasped. For more than two and a half millennia they had only discussed this possibility once before because it was much too painful for these Battle mates and soul mates to contemplate. After several moments when she had been unable to respond, she finally drew a deep breath, released it slowly, and said in a hushed voice, "You."
She heard Gabby's sniffle over through the earpiece. "And my answer would always and forever be-you."
Sonja sighed and fought to hold back the flood of tears stinging her eyes. "I'm so scared, honey. I can't lose you. I can't . . . " she murmured, her voice trailing off.
"Shh," Gabrielle cooed over the phone. "I've got a plan that will show us what really happened back then. Depending on what we see, we may find a peaceful way out of this. I'm going to need you to help us, okay?"
"What? How . . . "
"I'll tell you when we get home." Sonja caught the 'we' and her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm bringing company home for a few days, okay? I need you to go shopping and make sure we're stocked up on groceries. We should be home by six. Will you do that for me?"
Sonja nodded. "All right. I'll handle it."
She almost heard her snuggle bunny's watery smile through the connection. "Thanks, honey. I'll see you soon. Love you."
Sonja smiled. "Love you, too, sweetie."
"Bye."
Sonja placed the portable phone back on its cradle, turned and headed for their bedroom. She stood next to their bed on her lover's side, lifted the mattress and found her Hyborean sword in its sheathe right where Gabrielle had left it. She stood silently, regarding her favorite weapon for a moment, before she strode over to her closet, yanked her duster off its hanger, and placed her sword in the coat's hidden pocket designed to conceal it. Then she put on her duster, grabbed her keys and wallet and turned for the door to their garage and her waiting car.
The Street in front of 1630 Revello Drive
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1635 PST
A limousine turned onto the drive way of a house in front of Officer Wanda Carstairs' police cruiser as she wheeled it along the quiet residential street. She glanced at the rookie the department had assigned to her for training and said, "Samantha-"
The other woman cut her off. "I'd prefer Sam, Wanda."
Wanda grinned. "Okay, Sam, okay. Sam it is." Although some veterans might have been miffed by a rookie correcting them, Wanda didn't mind. She liked this Samantha . . . no, Sam Grant. "Sam . . . did anyone tell you about . . . Sunnydale while you were at the academy?"
Sam sighed. "Well, if you mean about its high death rate, yeah. The word is some PCP pushers and junkies are responsible for it."
Wanda gritted her teeth. No one had told her. "Actually, that's not the real story, Sam. I know this sounds crazy, but there are some weird things . . . supernatural things . . . that are responsible."
"Er . . . okay." After several beats, Sam chuckled. "Oh, you're pulling my leg, right?"
Wanda rolled her eyes. "Look, I know that this is hard to accept, but it's real. Hopefully, we won't see much of it tonight because there are some folks in this town that have done a good job of handling these . . . things. If you've studied our recent statistics, you'll see the death rate has gone down dramatically." She saw Sam's nod out of the corner of her eye."As long as they're on the job and we're on top of it, let's try to keep the trend going in that direction, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Sam chirped.
Wanda glanced over to her partner and shot a cheeky grin her way. "Okay, smart ass. Just follow my lead and we'll both make it through this training session in one piece. Deal?"
Sam returned Wanda's grin with her own. "Deal."
1630 Revello Drive
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1640 PST
Joyce and Kendra were in the kitchen when they heard the front door swing open. "Joyce," Faith said, "we've got guests!"
The Slayer Mom and the Second Slayer walked toward Faith's voice and found a handsome older woman standing beside Faith and Shaw. Behind them stood Edwin Giles and Wesley Wyndom-Pryce. Joyce approached the woman, smiled, and held out her hand to greet her. "Hello. I'm Joyce Summers and this," she said with a sweep of her hand toward the Jamaican Slayer, "is Kendra McPherson. You must be Ms. Pryce."
The other woman reached out and shook Kendra's hand, then Joyce's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kendra . . . Joyce. Please call me Marion."
"All right, Marion. Thank you for coming here on such short notice. I hope it wasn't an inconvenience for you."
"Not at all, Joyce, not at all. When I heard our little tyke here was doing well in Sunnydale, I couldn't wait to come and see her. So . . . she tells me that you were kind enough to bring her into your home. I'm so glad that she was able to find such a beautiful home."
Joyce blushed. "Why, thank you, Marion! I love having her here with us. After Kendra recovered from her injuries, she moved in here with Buffy and me last year. So, I really have three girls living here now."
Marion chuckled. "My goodness! It must be quite exciting to have three of these special young women living with you."
Joyce narrowed her eyes and muttered, "You have no idea." Then she regained her pleasant mood and said, "Marion, after your long trip, perhaps you'd like to freshen up? I've made up a room for you upstairs. It's the first one to your left. The bathroom is two doors down from it on the same side."
Marion smiled. "Well, it'd be good to get out of these clothes. I think I'll take you up on that offer, Joyce. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome. And please dress as comfortably as you'd like. Our house is your house." Then Joyce glanced at Edwin who had stood by patiently.
"Well," he said to Marion, "it seems that everything is in order here. Wesley and I will go and fetch your luggage and take it upstairs for you." With that, the two men stepped outside.
Faith had a wide grin on her face as she reached for her sister and grabbed her up in a big hug. "K! What the heck are ya doing here? I'd thought you weren't due to arrive from merry ole England until Friday!"
Kendra had a tiny smile on her face and returned Faith's hug, though with less gusto than her Boston sister. "Lord Giles arranged for me to return so I could prepare for my finals and split the patrol duties with you and Buffy. How have you been while I was away?"
"Five by five, K, as always. Even more so since MP showed up today."
When the men returned with her luggage, Marion said, "I'll leave you two to catch up." Then she reached for Faith and gave her a quick hug before she climbed the stairs. The two Slayers, Shaw, and Joyce watched her enter the bedroom and Faith shot a worried glance at her Slayer Mom. "You're giving her Buff's room?"
Joyce nodded. "It's cool, sweetie. Buffy and I worked this out a few days ago when we knew Marion was coming. Buffy will stay at Steve's during Marion's visit."
Faith cocked her right eyebrow. "Wow, Mrs. J . . . you almost threw me there for a moment when you said it's 'cool.' You trying to get down and funky in your old age?"
Joyce glared at her. "You're so pushing to get grounded, young lady . . . "
Faith held up her hands in surrender. "Geez, I was just kidding, SM. Keep your shirt on. Besides, you can't ground me tonight. I got early patrol."
"Faith," Kendra said, "Do you want me to take-"
"K," the Dark Slayer interrupted her. "Don't sweat it. I got it tonight. It's the early shift; that's the easy one. Besides, it'll give me a chance to drag Princess Margaret up there," she nodded upstairs, "along so we can hash out some stuff."
Shaw's eyebrows nearly shot up to the ceiling. "Excuse me, but I believe that I have just been handed the perfect opportunity to say, 'I cannot believe my ears.'" She eyed the other women in turn and drawled, "For me, that is saying a lot."
Joyce sighed. "Although I'll probably regret asking this, who's 'Princess Margaret?'"
"Wesley," Faith muttered, sounding like she'd said the vilest word in the world.
Joyce nodded slowly and said in her mother's tone of voice, "Oh, that's nice, dear. Just make sure you don't kill him."
"Okay!" Faith said too brightly.
"Don't maim or harm him either," Kendra added.
Faith narrowed her eyes at her sister Slayer and stuck out her bottom lip. "Spoil my fun."
Sunnydale High School Library
Sunnydale, CA
Tuesday, 11 May 1999 - 1802 PST
When the door to his cage slammed shut behind him, Oz turned around slowly and locked his eyes with Willow's witch-green orbs. This was the last night of the full moon, so there was no danger that he'd miss the prom. Willow had been looking forward to strutting her stuff at the dance and, he had to admit even if it was only to himself, Oz was looking forward to seeing the dress she'd decided to wear. The only hint she'd given him was that he would need to remember to breathe when he saw it.
But now, he had to get through this last night. In twenty minutes or so, he'd begin the change. He gave her a look and she nodded. She backed away slowly from the cage, afraid to lose sight of him. However, she knew he didn't like having her watch the transformation and she'd respect his need for privacy.
As he slowed his breathing, his sensitive hearing detected Giles and Jenny in his office discussing Marion Pryce's arrival. Then he took a sniff and detected the respective bouquets of his teammates. Giles's was the deep musty smell of leather encased books and the hint of something like the herb, thyme. The male magic-users he knew seemed to all share that. There was the stench of pepperoni pizza and Old Spice-Xander was here. Robin smelled of a mixture of thyme and the scent of an Irish glade.
As he felt the primal call of the wolf and the absence of Willow for the third night in a row approaching, Oz blocked out the male scents and focused on the sweet-smelling aroma of the female members of his pack. When he'd come into the library, he'd already known that Giles and Ms. Calendar had been naughty earlier in the day. Her scent was all over the librarian-a touch of Amaretto, something that smelled a bit like rosemary, and the cinnamon essence of the witches in the group. Her scent always made him squirm whenever he focused on it.
Then he caught the whiff of jasmine as well as the nearly imperceptible bouquet of her dusky musk that reminded him of a fine red wine aged in an oak cask. She always made Oz growl lowly whenever he caught her scent. Cordelia was always a feast for his senses. He sniffed again and tasted the touch of honeysuckle along with cinnamon, Amy's mystical signature. When he heard the library doors swing open, Oz sniffed the air again and detected two new scents. He caught the fragrance of a moisture laden forest along with the wild scent of peppermint tinged with her spoor that reminded him a feline's scent. If she ever had the misfortune of being stuck inside the cage with him when the change occurred, Oz knew the wolf would be drawn to Shaw like a tabby to catnip. Along with Shaw's scent, he detected the hint of vanilla mingled with the fruity bouquet of a zinfandel from a sun-kissed, California vineyard. The new scent approached Willow's strawberries, cream, and cinnamon emanation. Oz smiled, knowing that Buffy had just given the love of his life a hug. He sniffed one more time and sighed. <Thank God," he mused, <Faith isn't here. If she, Cordy, Shaw, and Buffy were here with Will at the same time, I don't know if this cage could hold the wolf.>
Although Oz loved Willow completely, he was, after all, still a guy. And being blessed, or cursed, with senses like his made it impossible not to notice the beauty that surrounded him on a daily basis. He'd never let them know, though, how they affected him. They might wig and try to distance themselves from him if they ever discovered it. He wasn't about to take that chance. So he maintained his cool, reserved exterior so he could stay with this band of heroes, these people who've become . . . his family.