by Richard Ruth
Copyright 1999
Legalistic Disclaimer
Hello again. As usual, this is the deal: The concept and characters of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ (Buffy, Angel, Xander, Willow, Oz, Faith and Giles) belong to Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century-Fox and Mutant Enemy. Over in Seacouver, the concept and characters of ‘Highlander’ (Duncan, Richie and Joe) belong to Davis and Panzer Productions and Rysher. Meanwhile, in San Francisco, the concept and characters of ‘Poltergeist’ (Derek, Nick, Rachel, Katherine, Alex and Philip) are the property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, while the ‘Kindred’ clans (Julian, Lillie, Daedalus, Cash and Cameron), were spawned by Spelling Entertainment Group. And last, but not least, those two fun-loving federal agents (Mulder and Scully) were created via a massive conspiracy among Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions and Twentieth Century-Fox.
Thanks to my beta readers, Mary Ellen Jedrlinic, Claudia Diamond, Kris Larsen (for her research assistance), and Paul and Maria Passadakes. And one last thing before we get rolling: Please do not re-post this story without first gaining the author’s permission (ahem. . . that would be me). Violation of this caveat may result in decapitation, staking, damnation to Hell, or worse (having to date Linda Tripp).
** Important: Author’s Note **
This is a sequel to my three other crossover stories, "Immortal Dilemma," "Who Wants to Live Forever?" and "Legacy of Damnation." To minimize confusion, I recommend that you read them before delving into this sordid tale (among other things, I’ve indicated that Xander and Nick Boyle are Immortals of the ’Highlander’ variety). When necessary, I’ve also taken the liberty of filling in some annoying gaps in character development. Simply put, in my universe, Richie Ryan was never senselessly killed and Faith has yet to turn to the Dark Side of Sunnydale. Finally, please keep in mind that this is a mondo crossover -- incorporating aspects from five. . . count ‘em. . . five series. Although I’ve tried to minimize any plot inconsistencies, some are inevitable. Got all that? You do? Really? Damn, you people really do amaze me!
Remember, all (positive) comments are welcome. All other (negative) comments will be treated as a personal attack upon my already fragile psyche (I hope you’re happy now). And lastly, a word of thanks to everyone who has written -- glad you’ve enjoyed the fan fic. Please direct E-mail to rruthless@aol. com. Adios, for now.
Mount Palomar Observatory
San Diego, California
November 23
9:02 P. M.
"C’mon you bastards. . . can’t you score at least one touchdown?"
Sitting in his dimly lit office, Dr. Chris Larsen was not having a good night and, unfortunately for the diehard fan, neither were the San Diego Chargers. After coping with a dead car battery that made him late for work, there was nothing like watching your team get shelled by the New England Patriots. And now, to top it all off, his software was acting up. . . again. Of course, Larsen responded to these various annoyances like any other rational, highly educated scientist. . . he started to beat on his computer.
"No good [bang], obsolete [boom], piece of shit [bang. . . boom]!"
His frustration now somewhat mollified, Larsen focused his attention back on the source of his initial irritation, namely a sky-tracking program which used the observatory’s one meter telescope with a camera attached to photograph a portion of the northern sky each evening. Usually the system worked pretty well, but tonight was different. Simply put, there was a large, inexplicable blob visible on all the photographic plates. But it wasn’t a streak like a comet or asteroid would make. Instead, it was stationery.
"And as the clock runs out, the Chargers lose to the Patriots 28-3. This is Al Michaels saying good night for ABC Monday Night Football."
"Great. . . just great!"
Focusing back on the problem at hand, the astronomer cynically thought out loud, "Must be dust on the mirror -- or probably some bird shit -- unless. . ."
Hurrying across the floor to peer directly through the telescope with his naked eyes, he practically ran back to his terminal to access an on-line data base of major stellar bodies.
"Christ. . . a supernova. . . Mu Cephei, no less! I don’t believe it."
Then, another thought suddenly hit him, "I wonder if anyone else has spotted it yet?"
With his hands now visibly shaking, he started typing an E-mail message to the International Astronomical Union in Cambridge, the organization for reporting this exceedingly rare type of phenomena. Within hours, most of the scientific community would also be aware that the former red giant, romantically named the "Garnet Star" by Herschel centuries earlier, would forever be known as Supernova (SN) 1998a.
*********************************************************************
St. Michael’s Church Rectory
Oakland, California
January 10
2:42 P. M.
"Mario Seraphim, do you take Marie Claudia Demerest to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"
Without hesitation, the young man replied, "I do."
"And do you, Marie Claudia Demerest, take Mario Seraphim to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"
After a moment of hesitation, during which she glanced at her mother who was desperately trying not to cry, the girl answered, "Yes, I do."
With a rectory secretary serving as the witness, watching, Father Philip Callahan then finished the ceremony by stating in a deep Irish brogue, "Then by the power vested in me by the Roman Catholic Church and the State of California, I pronounce you man and wife. Congratulations and may God bless you both."
As the teens embraced and kissed, which was somewhat difficult considering the girl’s obviously late state of pregnancy, the elder woman could no longer hold back the tears.
"Oh, my baby’s all grown up." Then, turning toward the young man, she added somewhat icily, "You take care of her. . . you hear?"
"Yes, ma’am. Of course."
"Uh oh. . . it’s starting already," thought Philip, frowning. "The rings aren’t even warm yet and there’s trouble afoot."
The priest knew that weddings such as these, which were frowned upon by the church hierarchy, rarely worked out. . . especially when the bride’s father flatly refused to even attend the ceremony. He would just have to pray that these kids, barely past the age of consent, would find their path in a perilous world. After managing to replace the smile on his face, the priest kissed the girl on the cheek and shook hands with the boy. Making direct eye contact with Mario for the first time, Philip suddenly beheld the most intense pair of blue eyes he had ever seen.
"Father. . . Father Callahan?"
Snapping out of his momentary trance, the priest could only manage a weak, "Yes?"
"Mom would like to know if you can join us for dinner? It’s nothing fancy. . . just a local restaurant."
With a broad smile, the man replied, "It would be my pleasure, my dear. After all, an Irishman never turns down a dinner invitation. I have a tradition to uphold."
*********************************************************************
Motel 6 -- Room 312
Oakland, California
January 11
3:17 A. M.
"Mario, are you awake?"
Within a second of asking the question, the girl saw a silhouette quickly move into the bedroom doorway from the adjoining, lighted room. Turning on one of the bedside lamps, the boy replied, "I’m here. Is something wrong, Marie?"
After a momentary pause, she replied with a grin, "He’s hungry. . . again."
"OK. . . what’s it going to be this time? Pickles? Sardines? Herring? "
"No, silly. . . ice cream."
With a smile, the boy remarked, "That’s too simple. It’s never that simple."
"I’m sorry, Mario. My hormones are all out of whack. I’m not trying to be a pain or anything."
Sitting at the foot of the bed, the boy placed a finger to her lips and stated, "I know. And you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m here to help, remember?" After a couple of seconds, he then asked, "What flavor?"
"Cherry Garcia."
"What?"
"Cherry Garcia. . . like the guy from the Grateful Dead."
While rising to leave, Mario idly stated, "Did I ever mention that I met him?"
"Who?"
"Jerry Garcia. I was backstage at a concert a few years ago in Buffalo, New York. Really nice guy."
With a look of obvious disbelief on her face, Marie could only remark, "You met Jerry Garcia. . . in person? How?"
"I have my ways."
As a look of sudden revelation crossed her features, she remarked, "Oh yeah. I guess you do."
Heading out into the hallway, the boy remarked over his shoulder, "One pint coming right up."
"Ahhh. . . Mario. . . could you make that TWO pints?"
"Fine. TWO pints coming up."
"And. . ."
Turning back toward the bedroom, he quipped, "Uh oh. . . here it comes."
"And a box of Twinkies."
"Twinkies? What are they?"
"Oh my God, Mario! You’ve never had a Twinkie?"
"Sorry. Guess I don’t get out much."
"Yellow sponge cake with white cream filling. No natural ingredients AND a shelf life of 200 years."
With one eyebrow raised, he remarked, "Sounds delicious. . . or should I say, dangerous?"
"They’re delicious. And they come two in a pack. . . we’ll share."
Again moving toward the hallway, he cautioned, "Remember, don’t let anyone in while I’m gone." After closing and locking the door, he muttered, "Thank heaven for 7-Eleven."
Heading down the two flights of stairs to the motel lobby, Mario was just about to leave the building when he noticed that nobody was standing behind the check-in deck or in the adjoining cashier’s office, although a rebroadcast of the late news was blaring from a television.
"And in other news. . . for all you stargazers out there, the supernova first spotted in November can now be seen without the aid of a telescope. In fact, according to experts, the star may actually keep increasing in size and luminescence for several days until it is actually visible during daylight hours, before finally fading."
Turning away from the screen, Mario peered curiously over the top of the counter and saw the middle-aged clerk lying on the floor face up, his head at an unnatural angle, with lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
"DAMN!"
Bounding across the lobby in a couple of leaps, he took the steps at preternatural speed. Quickly arriving back on the third floor, he instantly picked up an aroma that he had not sensed for ages. . . the faint odor of decay. . . and ancient evil. As one part of his mind noted the splintered door leading into the room he had departed not two minutes earlier, his other senses instantly took note of the dark figure with an arm locked around Marie’s neck. The girl was crying softly. Incredibly, the intruder’s eyes were coal-black, lacking pupils, irises, or any white matter whatsoever.
"Marie, stay calm. . . you’ll be fine."
"Ah. . . no, Marioch. Sorry to tell you, but that’s not how this is going to happen. See, first I’m going to twist the little girl’s neck like a bottle cap and then I’ll take care of you."
Taking another step into the room, Mario stated, "Let her go, Batriel. She’s innocent. If you want to fight me, that’s fine. . . just let her go."
"Exactly, brother. . . she’s INNOCENT. That’s the key. She can affect the balance. She MUST die!"
Assessing the situation, Mario realized that his adversary did not have his feet planted firmly on the floor, but instead had one knee awkwardly resting on the bed. He focused on the boxspring.
"Marioch, what are you. . . ?"
Batriel’s incomplete question was answered when the bed started vibrating moments before being jerked violently across the room, knocking both Marie and her attacker to the floor. Most importantly, however, the unexpected assault caused Batriel to lose his grip on the girl, who struck her face on the nightstand. However, this was enough of a distraction for Mario to go on the offensive. In a flash, he crossed the room, pinning the man against the wall.
"You’re an abomination, brother. What did your master promise you?"
With a devilish grin, Batriel responded, "Oh, not much more than limitless power. After all, it’s better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."
"Only if you’re a fool! You betrayed us all!" Then, in a lower tone, Mario added sadly, "And you betrayed me."
Before Batriel could reply, Mario flung him through the glass balcony doors and onto the concrete overhang. Grabbing him by the neck, Mario had started lifting the intruder over the railing when several fingers tipped by razor sharp nails lashed out, opening a set of angry gashes extending from his right temple to his jaw. As thick, dark blood started to drip down Mario’s youthful features, he again took hold of his adversary’s arms and heaved him effortlessly over the railing. Then, with Marie still watching from the bedroom, followed him over.
"OH, GOD. . . MARIO!"
Ignoring shattered glass as she rushed to the edge of the balcony, Marie looked down just in time to see the two land atop the hood of a car, instantly blowing out the windows, caving in the roof, and setting off the alarm. As the battle raged, Mario eventually got his knees astride the other man’s midsection, before swiftly jamming his thumbs into Batriel’s eyes, causing him to growl, "You’ll never stop us. . . we’re legion!"
From above, Marie saw smoke emanating from Mario’s hands as Batriel started to violently convulse amidst blood-curdling wails. Then, when it looked like it was finally over, the most bizarre thing of all happened as a brilliant column of light exited Batriel’s now inert body and rocketed skyward. In fact, the force of the energy was enough to blast Mario completely off the car, while also igniting the vehicle.
Marie then watched her husband calmly got back to his feet and reenter the building. By the time she came in off the balcony, he was back in the room. With fear still evident in her voice, she managed to stammer, "Mario. . . how? What?"
Before responding, he reached toward the deepening bruises now plainly evident on her face, passing his palm over the discolored flesh. With a soft glow emanating from his hand, the wounds quickly faded before disappearing. Most amazing of all was that the blemishes, while vanishing from Marie’s face, actually started to manifest themselves on the boy’s features. Seeing her amazement, he remarked, "I’ll explain all of this later, Marie. But now, we’ve got to go!"
"But you fell. . . what’s happening?"
Mario realized there were no easy answers to her questions.
*********************************************************************
J. Edgar Hoover Building -- FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
January 12
1:21 P. M.
"Agents Mulder and Scully, please come in."
"You said you wanted to see us, sir?"
"Yes, Scully, I did." Then, turning toward her partner, Assistant Director Walter Skinner asked, "I trust you’ve had time to review the file I sent you yesterday, Agent Mulder?"
As one of her eyebrows rose at the surprise mention of a file Mulder had not yet told her about, the perpetually disheveled special agent responded, "Yes, sir, I have."
"And. . . ?"
"I think we should book a couple of first class tickets out to the coast."
"Fine, but make it coach, Agent Mulder. We do have a budget to keep in balance."
Upon hearing this, Dana Scully’s bullshit meter went off the scale. At one time she would have gladly faded into the dark woodwork of her superior’s office, but those days were long past.
"Ah. . . excuse me. Could someone please tell me what’s going on? Where are we going?"
Withdrawing a manila folder from his desk, Skinner stood and handed it to her. The file, number X-128564-99, was stamped with several Justice Department security classifications -- the highest of which Scully was familiar read ’Eyes Only. ’ There was also a cryptic red stamp reading "Majic-12," which was unknown to her. The document’s attached routing slip was also noteworthy in that it was blank, indicating that the file had not proceeded through channels in the traditional manner, namely >from the lower levels of the federal bureaucracy, up through the middle levels, until finally reaching the top. This file seemed to have taken the exact opposite course -- starting at the top and moving down to them.
As Scully quickly scanned the enclosed photos and field report, Fox Mulder unsuccessfully attempted to smooth out some of the wrinkles in his jacket, shirt and tie, while Skinner silently stared out the window with his back to them. After reviewing the executive summary, she remarked, "I’m not sure why we’re needed in Oakland, sir? According to this, there seems to have been two rather simple, albeit brutal, murders in a motel. I’m sure the local field office can handle the investigation."
Without turning, Skinner stated, "Please play the tape, Agent Mulder."
As Scully’s eyebrow once again rose, Mulder shrugged, ambled across the office toward the wall-mounted video console, dimmed the lights, and activated the machine. She then viewed approximately 10 minutes of grainy black and white security camera footage taken from high above a motel parking lot. When the lights rose, she sat there in silence.
"That incident occurred early yesterday morning. Do you now see why this may require the unique. . . perspective. . . that you and Agent Mulder can bring to this investigation?"
"In other words, Scully, this looks like a job for Spooky and his dependable partner, Spunky."
Her initial shock now wearing off, Scully’s ever-cynical nature quickly regained its footing. Ignoring Mulder’s "spunky" remark, she turned her attention back to her boss and stated, "But sir, it’s possible that those two men may have been under the influence of PCP or some other powerful hallucinogen or designer drug. That could explain the extreme violence and seemingly superhuman strength they exhibited."
With a barely concealed grin, Mulder snidely remarked, "Now that’s my Scully. . . she sees it and STILL doesn’t believe it."
Her head quickly whipping around to face her partner, she replied, "No, Mulder, I’m just not as anxious to accept the paranormal as you are. There’s probably a rational, scientific. . ."
"Oh that’s right, a rational, scientific explanation for two guys surviving a leap unscathed from a three-story building. And, did you notice that one of the dead men was incinerated although there was no indication of a flammable substance present?"
Turning around to again face his subordinates, Walter Skinner raised a hand to silence them. However, when this didn’t immediately work, he stated, "Alright, that’s enough!" Once order was again restored, he added, "As I’ve said, I think there’s enough here to warrant your efforts."
"Yes sir," the two younger agents replied somewhat sheepishly.
"Fine. Keep me informed. Dismissed."
As Mulder and Scully headed toward the door, Skinner quickly called after them, "Oh, and one other thing, during this case you’ll be working with a special consultant to the bureau and his associates from the Luna Foundation. His name is Rayne. . . Dr. Derek Rayne."
"Oh good, Scully. . . now we can baby-sit an amateur to boot," murmured Mulder as they left the office.
"I heard that, Agent Mulder!" called Skinner, removing his gold wire-rimmed glasses.
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Principal’s Office
Sunnydale, California
2:15 P. M.
"Now let me be plain about this, you two. I frown on mid-semester transfers, especially for seniors. . . you just can’t imagine the paperwork."
As Marie unsuccessfully tried to make herself comfortable in the unpadded wooden chair, she replied, "I’m sorry for the trouble, sir. But the woman at Social Services recommended that I stay in school as long as possible." Then, glancing down at her distended stomach, she added, "But, I don’t think it’ll be for that much longer."
Looking somewhat uncomfortable himself, Principal Snyder snorted and remarked, "Well, just as long as you don’t get the idea that we’re running a nursery here." Then, turning toward the denim-clad boy, he added, "I hope you now appreciate what irresponsible behavior can lead too."
"Excuse me? Irresponsible?"
"Of course, completely irresponsible. It makes me wonder why we keep teaching those ridiculous sex education courses. It’s obvious you people don’t listen. . . even in there."
After a few moments of uneasy silence, Mario made eye contact with the balding man and remarked, "Sir, we consider Marie’s condition to be a blessing. In fact, nothing less than a miracle."
Trying to escape the gaze focused on him, Snyder muttered, "Blessing, huh? Well, maybe in the form of a bigger welfare check."
Hearing this, Mario started leaning forward in his chair until Marie grabbed his arm, restraining him. Quickly rising to her feet, she stated, "Ah, thank you for your time, Mr. Snyder. We’ll be seeing you."
Following them out the door, the principal replied ominously, "Oh, I’m sure of that, missy."
As Marie and Mario exited the principal’s office and walked slowly down the bustling hallway, they were being watched by several unsympathetic individuals wearing varsity football jackets.
"Will ya look at those two."
"Yeah, I heard they’re transfers from up north."
"White trash trailer types if I ever saw them."
"Hey, Larry, maybe we can have some fun with loverboy there."
"Cool. Sounds like a plan."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
3:01 P. M.
"Things have been really dead. . . ah slow. . . around here lately, Giles. Not enough action for one Slayer, let alone two. You know that Faith and I had to flip a vamp last night to see who got to stake him. She called tails."
"And?"
"Unfortunately, he landed on his ass."
"Oh. I see."
"So any fresh chaos due to blow through any time soon? Even Faith can talk about boys, body piercing, and bikes for JUST so long."
Carefully replacing a thick volume in the stacks, the librarian paused to ponder the question. Removing his glasses to polish the lenses, he replied, "Actually, Buffy, it’s quite understandable that there are periods of inactivity atop a Hellmouth. After all, mystical energy does tend to ebb and flow, very much like waves in the ocean. Following a period of high paranormal output, the reservoir needs to be replenished."
Impatiently fingering one of her stakes, the teen remarked, "So, to make a long story short, you’re saying we’re at low tide waiting to catch the next breaker."
Carefully replacing the frames on the bridge of his nose, the curly-haired man replied with some annoyance, "Well, yes. Isn’t that what I just said?"
"Sure, Giles. . . in about a hundred words! Didn’t they teach you to get to the point QUICKLY in Watcher school? I mean, with vampires, demons, Republicans, and other assorted nasties loose, time just MIGHT be critical."
"Now see here, young lady. . . just because Hell might be erupting, there’s no need to abuse the Queen’s English. After all, there are still SOME priorities left in life!"
"You scare me sometimes, Giles. And this is one of those times."
After emitting a derisive snort, the Watcher changed the subject, asking, "By the way, where’s Mr. Harris been? I haven’t seen him since Friday? That’s unusually tardy. . . even for him."
Shifting nervously in her seat, the Slayer stammered, "Well, Giles, that’s kinda hard to explain."
"Oh, really? Now who’s avoiding a direct answer to a simple question, Buffy?"
"He died. . . again."
"HE WHAT? !?" the man exclaimed, dropping the book he was holding.
"Now calm down, Giles. It’s not as serious as you think."
His eyes still wide, it took a moment for Giles to collect his thoughts.
"Not as serious? Now, Buffy, I realize that young people take things in stride nowadays, but really. . ."
"Well, Richie said he was only gone for a few minutes."
"A few minutes! Buffy, people have been seriously brain-damaged in less time."
"But with Xander, who would notice?"
Now standing with his hands firmly planted on his hips, the Englishman was obviously not amused, coldly remarking, "I’m waiting for an explanation, young lady."
"Oh. . . OK. It seems that Richie took Xander out to practice dueling last weekend."
"My God, are you telling me that Mr. Ryan accidentally stabbed Xander?"
Again shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Buffy replied somewhat indignantly, "No, nothing at all like that. Richie is very careful."
"Well, then, what exactly happened?"
"Xander drove through a plate glass window and fell two floors."
After blinking several more times, Giles started to move his lips, but no sound came out. After a few more blinks, he tried again -- with better success.
"Pardon me? Xander drove through a window? How. . . why?"
"After they were finished practicing, he asked Richie if he could drive his bike and. . ."
"A motorcycle! Good Lord, he’s only a boy!"
Snapping her fingers, Buffy stated, "Earth to Giles. . . Xander’s an Immortal."
"Yes. . . yes. . . I realize that. But he’s still only 17 years old. That’s much too young to be driving a motor vehicle, much less a motorcycle. Richie should have shown better judgement."
"Excuse me, but first off, the legal driving age in California is 16. And second, unless Alzheimer’s is setting in, weren’t you conjuring spirits at his age with your classmates back in merry old England?"
"Oh that’s right, Buffy. One youthful indiscretion and you toss it back in my face."
"Ah, Giles, during that ‘youthful indiscretion’ you raised a demon that possessed and killed one of your friends."
"Well yes. . . but that was very different."
"Ah huh, right Giles. . . VERY different."
"Don’t look at me like that, young lady."
"Like what, Giles?"
"Like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young. It hasn’t been THAT many years."
As Buffy rolled here eyes skyward, another thought suddenly occurred to the Watcher. "Buffy, I thought Xander generally recovered from these types of scrapes rather quickly. Why would he be absent this long?"
"Simple, Giles. . . sympathy."
"Sympathy?"
"From Cordelia. C’mon Giles, do I need to do the math for you?"
With a grin suddenly crossing his face, the man slowly remarked, "Oh. . . oh. . . of course."
"That’s good, Giles. Very good."
"But, Buffy, I thought they broke up last month?"
"They did. Don’t ask. . . it’s a long story."
*********************************************************************
Harris Residence
Sunnydale, California
3:23 P. M.
"Oh baby, that feels good. Oh yeah, do that again!"
"You like that, Xander?"
"Oh yeah. . . lower. . . lower. . . ahh. . . right there."
"Are you sure this is really necessary?"
"Absolutely. . . Richie said it’s vital to the healing process."
"Well, OK then."
"Ahh. . . oh. . . yeah. . . you’re really good at this Cordy."
"I know, you said that already. . . twice."
"Willow would never do this?"
"WILLOW!? !"
"Ah. . . I mean, I wouldn’t even think of asking Willow to. . ."
Quickly rolling off the bed, Cordelia snapped, "You’d better not." For emphasis, she quickly added, "Immortal or not, you’d be a dead man."
Realizing he had again placed his foot squarely in his mouth, the teen struggled to sit up, restrained by the mass of gauze bandages covering his arms and midsection down to the top of his boxer shorts. With brown puppy dog eyes being used to full effect, he implored the girl, "C’mon, Cordy, I’m beginning to tighten up. Please come back and rub my shoulders."
"Maybe you should just call Willow."
Extending his arms, he asked, "Why would I call Willow when I have you?"
As Cordelia tentatively moved into his embrace, Xander wasted no time in covering her lips with his own. Meanwhile, his hands, quickly surveying other territory, discovered that nothing got between Cordy and her Versace blouse. However, before he could explore any other strange new worlds, a motorcycle, at first only faintly audible, rumbled into the driveway of the house.
"Oh man, not now!"
"What’s wrong, Xander?"
"We’ve got company."
"Who?"
Before he could answer, she heard the kitchen door of the house open and a familiar voice ask, "Hello. . . is anyone home?"
As Xander quickly moved back toward the bed, Cordelia replied, "Up here, Richie."
Entering the room, the leather jacket and jeans-clad Immortal remarked, "Hi, Cordy. How are you?"
Motioning toward the lump under the covers, she remarked, "Not bad, considering the English Patient here and all."
At that moment, a series of moans could be heard emanating from under the sheets.
With a perplexed look on his face, Richie Ryan asked, "What’s wrong with him?"
Now also looking perplexed, Cordelia remarked, "You know. . . Xander went through that window last week. He’s all cut up. . . and achy and painy."
His eyes narrowing, the redhead repeated, "Cut up, huh? Could you excuse us for a few minutes, Cordy?"
"Sure, I guess so. Is something wrong?"
With a smile, Ryan answered, "Not for long. We just have some Immortal stuff to discuss. You know how it is."
Walking toward the door, she remarked, "I’ll be downstairs, Xander."
After the girl left the room, Xander, seemingly the recipient of a miraculous recovery, threw back the covers, leapt from the bed, and angrily stated, "You’re timing REALLY sucks, man! What are you doing here?"
Observing the bandages encapsulating his student (not to mention the heart covered boxer shorts), Ryan snidely remarked, "Ohhh. . . the mummy speaks," before adding, "I’m here to pick you up for our weekly training session, remember?"
"Oh shit, I completely forgot. I was ahh. . . distracted."
"Obviously." After a moment, the older Immortal asked, "Maybe I’m naïve, but what were you trying to do?"
"Well, if you must know, I was rounding second and about to slide -- possibly head first -- into third when you showed up."
With a grunt, Ryan remarked, "You little horn dog. There’s nothing wrong with you."
Smiling, Xander replied, "But Cordy doesn’t know that."
"I can change that."
With a look of absolute horror crossing his face, the teen implored, "You wouldn’t!"
"I will. . . unless you move your ass! And lose those damn bandages."
As Xander scrambled for his clothes, he paused a moment to ask his mentor, "Ah, Richie?"
"Yeah?"
"I’ve been thinking. . ."
"That’s nice, Xander."
"No, wait. . . hear me out. OK. . . they say that guys are at their peak. . . you know. . . sexually, when they’re teenagers, right?"
Shifting weight to his other foot, Ryan subconsciously ran a hand through his short hair before tentatively asking, "Xander, where is this line of questioning going?"
"Well, I’m thinking about Cordy like. . . you know. . . all the time."
"All the time?"
"Yeah. When I’m in class, or trying to sleep, or in the shower. . ."
"HEY! WHOA! STOP! Way too much detail there, Xander."
"Oh, sorry, what I meant to say. . ."
"Please pick your next words carefully, Xander. Or I’ll have to cut off your head. . . followed by my own."
"Well, you know how it is. You still look like you’re 18. Does it ever get any easier?"
"Does WHAT ever get any easier?"
"This relationship stuff."
Now with a broad smirk crossing his face, Ryan remarked, "So, you think you’re in love with Cordelia."
Suddenly at a rare loss for words, the teen stammered, "Well, yeah. . . ah. . . no. I mean, there’s more."
"More? Oh good, it gets better."
"I’ve really got it bad for Cordy."
"That’s what I just said, Xander."
"AND for Willow."
"You should run for president."
"AND for Faith. . . I think."
"THREE GIRLS? !? ARE YOU NUTS?" Ryan shouted before silently staring at the teen for several seconds.
"Xander, haven’t you covered this territory before? And didn’t Cordy almost end up dead because of it?"
"Yeah."
"AND isn’t Willow an item with that guy in the band. . . what’s his name?"
"Oz."
"Right. . . Oz. AND doesn’t he also have a werewolf thing going?"
"OK. . . OK. . . fine. I’m scum. I admit it."
"And this Faith. . . isn’t she a Slayer?"
"Yeah."
"It’s been nice knowing you, Xander."
"That’s not funny, Richie. I can really use some advice."
"Fine. My advice is this: Get out of town. . . FAST!"
Seeing the teen’s stricken expression Ryan, now more serious, inquired of his student, "Do you know when relationships get easier, Xander?"
"When?"
"Never. That’s when. Quoting the Immortal Duncan MacLeod, no pun intended, ’Whether you’re 18, 80 or 800, love’s never easy. ’ I think he also said something about the need for mutual trust and respect between two people, but MacLeod gets kinda preachy sometimes and I’m not a very good listener."
Looking dejected, the boy could only reply, "Oh."
"But I do recommend one thing."
Quickly perking up, Xander asked hopefully, "What’s that, Richie?"
"Burn that underwear, sport. Those shorts are L-A-M-E!"
A couple of minutes later, as Xander was about to leave the room wearing his trademark baggy T-shirt and jeans, Ryan asked, "Aren’t you forgetting something?"
"What?"
"Well, your sword for one thing. And a jacket to hide it would be nice."
"Ah c’mon, Richie. We’re only going to the dojo for a few hours. What can happen?"
Pulling a jacket from the teen’s closet, the Immortal tossed it to him and replied, "Plenty, believe me. Where’s your sword?"
"Downstairs."
"Where?"
"Ah. . . it’s ahh. . ."
"OK. Let’s try this again. Xander, where’s your sword. . . the one MacLeod and I warn you to carry at ALL times?"
In a low voice, the boy replied, "In the garage."
"The garage? How can you get to it there?"
"Mom doesn’t like having it around the house. It makes her nervous."
"Nervous? Well how would she feel about coming home and finding you decapitated?"
"C’mon, Richie. That can’t happen."
With lightning speed, Ryan withdrew his own weapon, holding the tip of the blade at his student’s throat. With Xander now swallowing nervously, his Adam’s apple working itself first down and then back up, the older Immortal stated, "Oh yes it can, Xander."Then, after a few seconds, he resheathed the sword, adding, "NEVER forget that. . . for your own sake."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Zoological Park and Gardens
January 13
1:21 A. M.
Amidst the gloomy trails and lush vegetation, two young women were sauntering along, one looking skyward while the other kept her eyes at ground level.
"Hey, that’s some fireworks show up there. Giles was pretty excited about it. He thinks it may be some major portent of doom or something."
"Yeah whatever. If you ask me, it’s just some stellar gasbag blowing off steam."
"Not exactly a romantic, are you, Faith?"
"Why should I be? Not much to be romantic about around here. Use ’em and lose ’em, that’s what I say." After a pause, she then asked, "So, Buffy, what’s it like. . . you know. . . to get horizontal and chitty chitty bang bang with an undead fiend?"
"Like I’ve told you before, Faith, I so don’t want to have this discussion."
"Oh, please, Buff. I’m not going to be judgmental or anything. Just curious."
"Sure you are."
After replying, "I am," she then asked, "So, do you have to warm him up like other guys, or does he just plant the flag?"
With growls from the big cats audible in the distance, the shorter girl suddenly stopped short, turned and angrily replied, "Hey, newsflash, I’m not discussing Angel with you. . . not ever. We have something very special."
"Yeah, right."
"You don’t believe me?"
"Hey, Buff, I’ve seen Angel, remember. He definitely has that dark, brooding act down. I can see how that might attract certain types of skirts."
"But, of course, not you."
"Me and a bloodsucker. . . please, get real."
"Well then, Miss Manners, what kinds of guys appeal to you?"
Now chewing her gum at an even faster pace, she remarked, "I’m into the leather and studs kinda guy. You know, the bad boy, dangling earrings, piercings a plus, scuzzy biker type."
"So have you met danger boy yet?"
"Several, actually."
"But. . ."
"They were big on scuz, but small in other departments."
"I know I’ll regret asking you this, but could bachelorette number one please specify. . . what ’other’ departments?"
"Such as commitment," Faith stated.
"Oh."
"You think I simply focus on the physical stuff, don’t you?"
"No, of course not," Buffy lied.
"Well, I’m not THAT shallow."
"Sorry."
"It’s fine, I’m cool," the newest Slayer remarked before blowing a bubble. As they continued walking, Faith asked nonchalantly , "By the way. . . how’s that friend of yours doing. . . what’s his name. . . ?"
"Who?"
"That clown who was going out with the snob."
"Xander?"
"Yeah, that’s him. What’s his deal these days?"
Not sure where this was leading, Buffy remarked, "He’s kinda snared in Cordelia’s web again. You know how it is. . ."
"Oh."
"Why do you ask?"
Faith didn’t have a chance to reply as a scream suddenly shattered the silence.
"Just in time. Duty calls."
Dashing around a bend in the trail near the hyena house, the two girls come upon an alarming sight -- even by Sunnydale standards: A man sprawled atop a motionless young woman. As Faith moved forward, wielding a previously concealed wooden stake, she angrily remarked, "Hey, buddy, get off her! It obviously wasn’t as good for her as it was for you."
"Faith, wait! We don’t know. . ."
"Wait? For what? This rapist to get his rocks off again? I don’t think so."
As she approached, the blond-haired man casually rose, buttoned his shirt, and slowly turned to face her. Then, most chilling of all, he actually started laughing. As Faith suspected, fangs were present. But, there was something else. . . he had no eyes. Just two dark circles where his eyes should have been.
"A Slayer. How sweet. It’s been such a long time since I’ve savored the fruits of one such as you."
Leaping forward, she spat, "The only thing you’ll be savoring is this stake when I jam it up your. . ."
"Faith, no. . ."
Before the words had left her mouth, Buffy realized that something was seriously different about this vamp. Her suspicions were confirmed when he caught the other Slayer in midair before effortlessly tossing her onto a nearby bench.
"Faith!"
When the still unidentified attacker started to move toward the downed Slayer, Buffy instantly retrieved a stake from her boot and, taking aim, let it fly. Her toss found its mark as the wooden shaft sank deeply into the left side of the vampire’s chest, right where the heart should have been. Unfortunately, instead of turning to dust as expected, he merely looked down, removed the shaft and, once again laughing, splintered it.
"Two Slayers! This should be a real treat!"
With a look of disdain, Buffy remarked, "Hey, bright eyes. . . it’s funny. . . that’s what all the ghouls around here say, before we kill them."
As Faith struggled back to her feet, she also threatened, "You’re going to be so dead!" Again on the attack, she landed several powerful kicks and body blows that had absolutely no effect. Then, off balance after a right hook failed to connect, the stranger took hold of her arms, stating, "Go to your friend, I think she’s lonely." He then lifted her off the ground and flipped her toward Buffy.
Seeing what was about to happen, the girl only had time to think, "Oh, shit!" before the impact. Although now in pain herself, Buffy quickly regained her senses.
"Faith. . . can you hear me?"
"No daddy, Tommy and Steve weren’t in my room last night. . ."
"Faith, snap out of it. . . NOW!"
"Heh heh, it was Billy and Bobby."
With their attacker closing in for the kill, Buffy attempted to free herself from the other girl’s tangled limbs while pleading, "Faith, snap out of it!"
"What. . . . where. . . ?"
"Get up! We're in major trouble here!"
"Oh you’re so right, little Slayer. You just can’t imagine how much trouble."
Reaching down to grasp Buffy’s hair, the fiend started to pull her neck closer while remarking, "You should be honored that Semyaza would select you."
Quickly removing another stake from her other boot, Buffy quipped, "I’m sure the honor’s all yours, buddy," before plunging it deep into his forearm.
Instantly releasing her, Semyaza roared, "You unworthy bitch!"
"Funny, that’s just what all my teachers say."
The Slayer then bounced back to her feet and landed some additional blows to his head. Unfortunately, this didn’t have any greater impact than Faith’s earlier attempts. In fact, he simply absorbed the punishment Buffy dealt out before retaliating with a single blow to the side of her face, knocking her down.
While on the verge of passing out, Buffy suddenly heard a high pitched whine followed by a roar. After blinking a few times, she looked up to see Semyaza with a crossbow bolt protruding from his neck. Then, just when things couldn’t get any weirder. . . they did. As Buffy continued to watch, he removed the shaft, growling, "I grow weary of these games," before emitting a blinding flash of light and disappearing into thin air. A few seconds later, the Slayer heard a pained voice ask, "Buffy, you alright?"
Looking toward the other girl, who was on her knees holding an empty crossbow, she replied, "I think so," before asking, "Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"I don’t think we should come here anymore. It’s not safe."
*********************************************************************
Meanwhile, across town, Mario was watching Marie sleep in the guest bedroom of her grandmother’s house. However, while reaching to reposition a stray lock of hair on her forehead, he detected an all too familiar presence somewhere in the vicinity. Quickly rising, he soundlessly drifted to the window overlooking the street.
"Mario, what’s wrong?"
Not wanting to alarm her, he replied, "Nothing. I just wanted to get some fresh air. Go back to sleep. "
"I didn’t think you needed air."
After another glance into the night, he turned and perched back on the edge of the bed.
"Go back to sleep, you need your rest."
"Why don’t you climb in here with me, there’s plenty of room."
"I can’t."
"But we’re married now, aren’t we?"
Now looking more serious, he responded, "Marie, it’s not that simple. There are larger issues."
"Such as?"
"Such as your safety. I can’t allow myself to get distracted."
Looking hurt, she asked, "It that all I am, a distraction?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what is it?"
After pausing to compose his thoughts, he stated, "We just can’t be together. . . at least not in the way you’d like us to be. It would be very dangerous, especially for you."
Reaching up, she ran her hand through his long hair. "Mario, why is it dangerous for us to be together. Aren’t we compatible?"
Now staring down at the floor, he answered, "Yes, Marie, that’s just it. We’re much too compatible."
Just at that moment, the girl grimaced.
"Ow. . . ow!"
Leaping up, Mario asked excitedly, "What’s wrong?"
"The baby just kicked. . . that’s all. I guess I’ve gotta get used to it. Sit back down."
"No, I really shouldn’t. . ."
"Mario, please sit down."
As he hesitantly returned to the edge of the bed, she reached for one of his hands, placing the palm flat against her stomach.
"Can you feel him?"
"Yes."
*********************************************************************
Motel 6
1:41 P. M.
After checking in at the FBI’s San Francisco field office, Mulder and Scully picked up a copy of the case forensics report, signed out a dark blue Taurus from the motor pool, and drove to the crime scene. Pulling into the motel driveway, Scully idly remarked, "That’s odd."
"What’s odd?"
"According to forensics, there was only one set of fingerprints in the room and none found on the car where the men landed."
"Maybe they were wearing gloves."
"No, Mulder. The surveillance video clearly showed them fighting with bare hands."
"You’re right. That is odd."
As Fox Mulder removed his seatbelt and exited the vehicle, the redhead continued to review the file.
"You coming, Scully?"
"Now that’s REALLY strange."
"What now?"
"The blood found at the scene."
"What about it?"
"They couldn’t type it. In fact, it didn’t contain any platelets or hemoglobin. Just plasma with some traces of. . . no that can’t be right."
"What? What can’t be right?"
"Sulfur. . . they found traces of sulfur and other elemental organic matter."
"Brimstone, Scully."
Closing her car door, she remarked, "Now don’t start, Mulder. The lab probably just contaminated the samples or something."
"Yeah, or something."
Quickly sweeping the area, the agents noted a lone police car nearby. With crime scene tape strung around the demolished car in the parking lot and across the front door leading to the lobby, he asked his partner, "Any thoughts on where to start?"
"How about the room upstairs. According to the report, that’s where most of the action took place."
Flashing their badges at the cop in the doorway, they headed for the elevator with its cheerful canned music still incongruously playing. Arriving on the third floor, the agents stepped off the lift and into a grungy beige hallway harshly lit by flickering florescent tubes. Rounding a corner, they quickly noticed that the tape strung across the doorway to room 312 was broken and that voices were emanating from within. Drawing their weapons, they cautiously entered.
"Federal agents! Don’t move!"
As the two men they encountered remained crouched on the floor, their backs to them, one remarked in heavily accented English, "We wouldn’t dream of it."
Scully in the meantime had gotten the other, younger man to his feet and within seconds had expertly relieved him of a . 45 automatic holstered under his left arm. However, she didn’t notice him palm a scrap of paper retrieved from behind one of the twin beds.
"I hope you have a license for this."
"As a matter of fact, it’s in the left front pocket of my jeans. You’re more than welcome to go fishing for it."
After a moment, Scully stated, "OK. . . but remove it slowly."
Once the wallet was open for inspection, she remarked, "A carry permit does not entitle you to enter a crime scene, Mr. Boyle."
"Call me Nick."
To this, Mulder testily remarked, "We’ll call you a lawyer, smartmouth."
With his back still turned toward the agents, the older man quickly remarked, "Now that’s not very professional, Agent Mulder."
Surprised, Mulder gave a sideways glance to his partner before asking, "You know us?"
"Walter Skinner said you’d be along."
His face suddenly grim as several puzzle pieces dropped into place, the agent remarked, "So you’re. . ."
Rising to his full height, the Frenchman coolly turned while finishing the statement, "Derek Rayne. . . yes." Then, noticing that Mulder still had his gun drawn, he pointedly asked, "Is there some other problem?"
"Ah, no, sorry."
As several firearms were quickly re-holstered, Derek turned toward Scully and remarked, "And I believe you’ve already met my associate, Nick Boyle. We’re with the Luna Foundation."
Retrieving his wallet from the woman’s hand, Nick smirked before asking, "Was it as good for you as it was for me, Agent Scully?"
As the mere hint of a grin momentarily crossed Scully’s lips at this remark, Mulder simply continued to scowl.
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
2:07 P. M.
"Giles? Giles, are you here?"
"Up here, Buffy. In the black arts section."
Looking up toward the library’s upper level, she spied her Watcher coming out from between the stacks.
"We’ve got to talk, Giles. There’s a serious new badass in town. After snacking on a girl, he tossed Faith and me around like yesterday’s dirty laundry."
Now intrigued, the librarian removed his wire-rimmed glasses before commenting, "You mean that your combined efforts couldn’t stop. . . something? Jolly good."
In response, Buffy simply stood stock still, a hand resting on her hip. Then, after a few moments, she remarked, "Well, I’m SO happy to make your day with an unstoppable ghoul. Heaven forbid that we continue to ice the bad guys with ease. No, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?"
With an annoyed expression, Giles replied, "What I meant, Buffy, is that I find it highly unusual for you and Faith to have difficulty dispatching your quarry. Therefore, I find it interesting, but not necessarily a cause for celebration."
"Not necessarily? You mean getting our asses kicked IS occasionally cause for celebration?"
"No, let me rephrase that. It didn’t quite come out as I intended."
"Never mind, Giles. I’m only busting your chops."
"Oh. Quite."
As the library doors once again swung open, the Slayer heard two familiar voices stating first, "Hi, Buffy" and then simply, "Buff."
Before she even turned, she knew that Willow and her on again, off again, on again boyfriend, Oz, had entered the large room.
"Guys. How’s it going?"
"Oz is going to be playing at the Bronze again this week."
The spiky-haired teen then elaborated, "Yeah, they said the other bands really sucked. But we sucked less. I think that’s a good thing."
"Of course it’s a good thing, Wolfy. I bet that’s how most bands get their first big break."
"Yeah, that and sleeping with MTV veejays. . . or so I’ve heard."
As this conversation wound down, the Englishman attempted to steer it back to the main issue at hand, "Buffy and Faith were accosted last night."
"Are you alright, Buffy? And what about Faith?"
"We’re both better. . . now. But last night was another story."
The Watcher then asked, "Was it a vampire?"
"That’s the really weird part. This guy had fangs and all, drained the girl, but only got annoyed when I staked him. Then, and this is REALLY bizarre, he just disappeared."
"You mean he ran away?"
"No, Giles, he disappeared like David Copperfield. Disappeared. . . poof. . . gone in a flash."
"How odd." Scratching his chin, he inquired, "Did he give you any indication to his identity?"
"Yeah, he said his name was Semiarid or Sammy Davis or something. . ."
"Good God, not Semyaza!"
"Now there’s a reaction. Giles, I’m thinking this is not a good thing."
"This is very serious, Buffy. Semyaza is a fallen angel referred to in the Biblical Book of Enoch."
"Enoch? I don’t remember a Book of Enoch in the Bible," Willow remarked. "Is it New Testament?"
"Apocryphal, actually. Not officially recognized by theological scholars."
"An angel? Aren’t angels supposed to play harps and float on clouds? This guy looked more like a Hell’s Angel."
"Actually, Buffy, you may actually be partially correct. . . in your own crude American adolescent sort of way."
"You mean this guy rides a Hog?"
"A what? Oh never mind. . . I don’t want to know." Returning his gaze toward Willow and Oz, Giles continued, "What I mean is that Semyaza was somehow corrupted and eventually recruited others to rebel against the heavenly host. As punishment, he and his followers were cast out and are forever denied access to the divine light. . . the ultimate punishment for an angel."
"So then what’s he doing in Sunnydale? Shouldn’t he be in solitary angelic confinement for a few trillion years or something? And what’s up with those fangs?" Buffy asked in rapid order.
"That, Buffy, is precisely what we have to find out. Willow, I’ll need your assistance."
*********************************************************************
Motel 6
3:50 P. M.
"Well, it looks like the evidence teams were pretty complete."
"Unfortunately, they didn’t find much that can tell us who was in this room," remarked Derek.
"OK," Scully began, "let’s go over what we do know. According to the surveillance tapes, a young couple checked in. The girl looked pregnant, but other than that, nothing unusual."
"Then a few hours later, all hell breaks loose," added Nick.
With Mulder now joining Derek outside on the balcony, the FBI agent looked over the railing and continued, "Some perp kills the desk clerk downstairs, comes up here, fights with the couple, and ends up back downstairs. . . the hard way."
"Could be drug-related," Derek remarked.
"Possible, but unlikely. The local PD went through here with dogs. Nothing out of the ordinary turned up," responded Scully. After a momentary pause, she added, "Maybe the bodies will reveal something."
"We’re somewhat acquainted with the local medical examiner. Maybe we can offer some assistance in that respect."
"That would be very helpful, Dr. Rayne. At times, the local authorities can be very rigid."
"I’ll call her tonight. She can probably have an autopsy report to you relatively quickly."
"Actually," interrupted Mulder, "Scully is a trained pathologist. We’d prefer a first-hand look at the deceased, rather than a report summarizing the findings for us."
"And she’s a doctor too. Be still my heart," Nick remarked to no one in particular.
At this, Mulder once again grimaced.
The four agreed to reconvene at the ME’s office early the following morning and went their own separate ways. . . or at least that was the stated plan.
After Derek climbed into his Explorer beside Nick, the older man asked, "So what did you find in there?"
Retrieving the crumpled scrap of paper from his leather jacket, Nick replied, "A phone number." Then, holding it up for Derek’s inspection, he asked, "Look familiar?"
Taking hold of the paper, Derek’s mind was suddenly inundated with a stream of confusing images of strange otherworldly beings and inexplicable emotions. Slumping forward in his seat, Nick grasped his shoulder before his head hit the dashboard.
"Whoa! You OK, Derek?"
"Yeah. . . just got a little dizzy. I’ll be fine." Then, squinting at the numerals, brow furrowed, he stated, "I think we’d better pay our friend of the cloth a visit."
As the black sport utility vehicle pulled out of the parking lot, Mulder started the sedan’s engine, waited a few seconds, and began following the other vehicle at a discreet distance.
"What are you doing, Mulder?"
"I don’t trust them, Scully. They just happen to have connections with the local police AND medical examiner. It’s just too convenient."
"That might be why Skinner asked them to help, simply because they ARE connected. Do there always have to be dark ulterior motives to people’s actions, Mulder?"
"Do you really want me to answer that, Scully?"
From that point on, the two proceeded along mostly in silence through the darkening streets of Oakland. After about 20 minutes, Mulder pulled to the curb down the street >from a large gothic church. They then watched as Derek and Nick left their vehicle and, finding the front doors of the building locked, quickly headed around the side toward the rectory. Seeing this, Mulder dryly commented, "Guess they had an urge to say a few prayers."
"We don’t know why they’re here, Mulder. They may simply know someone who works here."
"I doubt it, Scully. I think it’s time to do some checking on Derek Rayne, Nick Boyle, and the Luna Foundation."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
4:32 P. M.
"Giles, here it is! According to the Book of Enoch, Semyaza and his followers were banished >from Heaven and came to Earth. Once there, they cast spells, took mortal wives, and. . . oh. . ."
"Yes, Willow, go on."
Reading from the computer screen, she continued, ". . . they impregnated women who then bore a powerful race of hybrid offspring. These immortals walked the Earth devouring the flesh and drinking the blood of mortals."
Seated at a research table, Buffy stopped fingering one of her stakes long enough to remark, "Why am I thinking vampires here, people?"
"You might be correct, Buffy. Semyaza may be one of the first vampires. Willow, does it say anything about how to defeat him?"
"Let’s see. Well, here it says that God sent his archangels to defeat the rampaging evil on Earth. Semyaza’s punishment was to remain bound under the hills for 70 generations until the day of judgment. I’m afraid that’s all it says, Giles."The Watcher quickly came to stand beside the teen, scanning the text displayed on screen.
"Something tells me he just got paroled," remarked Buffy.
The Watcher, looking shaken. . . a rarity. . . simply remained silent.
"Calling Giles. Come in Rupert Giles."
"Judgment Day."
"What?"
"According to this, Semyaza’s return will coincide with Judgment Day. . . the end of the world."
"OK, that’s pretty heavy duty," remarked Oz.
"So I guess we’ll just have to stop him then. Giles, how do we stop him?"
"I don’t know if there is any way to stop an angel, Buffy. It may be destiny. . . fate, if you will."
"Fate, my ass, Giles. I don’t accept that. This guy treated me like a punching bag and I want to rip his wings off."
"He had wings too?" The Watcher was now pale.
"No. . . at least I didn’t see any. . . that’s just a figure of speech, Giles. Now snap out of it and get with the program here. Remember how it works. . . you find out how to stop the unstoppable evil and then I go out and kick butt. We’ve done it before."
Replacing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the man remarked, "Yes, of course, you’re right. What I need is a spot of tea. It’s been a long day."
"Now that’s my Giles."
"Willow, can you stay and assist me this evening?"
Before responding, she looked toward Oz.
"That’s OK. You stay. I have to practice for our gig tomorrow."
"Thanks, Oz. I’ll call you later."
*********************************************************************
St. Michael’s Church Rectory
5:05 P. M.
"Hi Derek, Nick, it’s been a long time."
As Nick and the priest embraced, Derek replied, "Too long, old friend."
As the men proceeded back toward Philip Callahan’s office, he asked, "So what do I owe this unexpected visit. . . business or pleasure?"
"Unfortunately, business," answered Nick.
"Legacy business?"
To this, Derek replied, "Actually, we’re not quite sure. For now, we’re assisting the authorities in conducting an investigation. There was a double murder a few nights ago."
"Murder?"
"Yes, at a motel not far from here."
"Oh yes. I do remember hearing about it on the late news. Such a terrible waste. Just terrible."
"Yes, it was. And we’re hoping that you might know something about two people who we suspect may have witnessed the crime."
"Looking slightly puzzled, the priest remarked, "Of course, Derek. But I’m really not sure if I know anything."
In response, Nick added, "Philip, we’re looking for a young couple who left the scene shortly after the crime was committed."
"I’m afraid, you’ll have to be more specific than that, Nick. Many young people live in this parish."
Taking a slip of paper from his pocket, the man retorted, "Yeah, but how many have your phone number on a piece of church stationery?"
"And we believe that the young woman may also be pregnant," Derek added.
The priest’s face suddenly turned grim with a sudden revelation. "Oh, good God! I hope they’re not in any danger."
"Who, Philip? You hope who’s not in any danger?"
"Marie Demerest and her husband, Mario. Those kids already have so many things going against them. . . and now this."
"Can you tell us where they live?"
With a downcast expression, Philip replied, "No, not exactly. All I know is that they headed south after I married them a few days ago. Marie’s parents might be able to tell you more. I have their address. They’ve been parishioners for many years."
"Thank you, Philip. That might be very helpful."
As the priest set about looking for the requested information, he quickly cautioned the two men, "Derek, you might want to tread lightly with the parents. They’re rather emotional about the circumstances of their daughter’s wedding."
"Was the old shotgun standing by, Philip?" questioned Nick.
"No, Nick. That was the strange part about it. The young man, Mario, was actually anxious to marry Marie. But her father was dead-set against the union."
"What about the boy’s family?"
"Both of the lad’s parents are dead."
Now with a clearer grasp of the situation, Derek commented, "We’ll try to remain sensitive to everyone’s emotions, Philip."
"Thank you, Derek."
A few minutes later, as the two left the church, Derek pulled up his collar against the brisk night air. Looking up, he remarked, "Now there’s a sight you don’t see very often."
"What?"
"That star. . . the supernova. Look how bright it is."
"Yeah, they said it’ll probably last a few more nights."
"It’s actually quite beautiful."
Looking back up, Nick remarked, "If you’ve seen one star, Derek, you’ve seen them all."
Now somewhat annoyed, the Precept of the San Francisco Legacy house remarked, "Nick, sometimes you’ve got to stop and enjoy what nature has to offer."
"Yeah, well, I never was a tree hugger like you and Alex."
"A tree hugger, huh. Well, Conan, let’s go get something to eat before we call on Mr. and Mrs. Demerest."
Meanwhile, across the street, as Scully kept the two men under surveillance, Mulder was rapidly jotting down information with one hand while holding a cell phone in the other. "Ah huh. . . right. . . got it. And remember, get back to me about Rayne and Boyle. Right. . . thanks Frohike. What? Oh. . . light brown skirt, white silk blouse, medium heels. Oh, come on. Fine, above the knee. . . slightly. Don’t go there, Frohike. Yeah, fine, thanks [beep]."
"What was that all about?"
"Frohike was able to access the county’s department of records. It seems that a young couple was married by a priest here a few days ago."
"That’s not unusual in a large city church, Mulder."
"You’re right, Scully. But when he cross-referenced this information with the county health department, guess what he found?"
"I’m sure you’re going to tell me."
"A young woman by the name of Marie Demerest and her boyfriend, now husband, Mario Seraphim came in for neonatal screening."
"Oh."
"He also gave me the address to her parents’ house."
"But we’re not sure they’re the two we’re looking for, Mulder."
"Yeah, but it can’t hurt to check it out."
As she replied somewhat tentatively, "I guess not," something else dawned on her, "Ah, Mulder, what did Frohike ask you at the end of that call?"
"He wanted to know what you were wearing."
"He what? !? That little. . ."
Grinning, Mulder replied, "Calm down, Scully. After all, why do you think he’s a Lone Gunmen?"
*********************************************************************
Demerest Residence
6:27 P. M.
As Derek and Nick drove up to the home of Nancy and Anthony Demerest, they quickly noticed two things. First, a blue Taurus with black and white government license plates was parked in front and second, a commotion had erupted on the porch.
"Oh, hell!"
"Looks like the feds beat us to the punch, Derek."
Quickly stepping from their vehicle, the first words they heard came from Mr. Demerest."
"And get off my property!"
"Sir, we’re just trying to investigate two homicides and your son-in-law’s possible involvement."
"Oh Tony! Our baby’s in trouble!"
With his wife now holding one of the wooden porch columns for support, the man responded angrily, "That no good son of a bitch is no son-in-law of mine! He ruined our little girl. . . she’s too young to be married, no less a mother!"
"But sir," Scully added, "We’re not saying that your daughter is guilty of a crime, just that we need to talk to her and her husband."
Upon seeing two more men coming up his driveway, Mr. Demerest snarled, "Oh, now look at this! What did you do, call reinforcements?"
Derek, in the lead, replied, "No, sir. We don’t work for the government. But we would like to ask you and your wife a few questions."
"We’re done answering questions. You’ve already upset my wife. Now get off my property!"
"But sir. . ."
Without another word, the man then helped his wife into the house and slammed the door.
With his own temper now about to boil over, Derek could only hear Philip’s now prophetic warning in his head to remain sensitive to the parent’s emotions. After a few seconds, he said to Mulder, "I hope you’re satisfied. I thought we’re supposed to be working on this case together?"
Equally annoyed, Mulder replied, "Together? Well, then, when were you going to mention Father Philip Callahan to us? Huh? And why do I also suspect that you withheld evidence found at the motel. That would be a Class B felony, Dr. Rayne."
Without the slightest trace of deception, Derek retorted, "We withheld nothing, Agent Mulder. We were merely playing a hunch."
"That’s bullshit!"
As the two continued to argue, Nick made his way over to Scully.
"Is he always like this?"
"Like what?"
"So hell-bent on running down leads that he burns bridges in the process."
"You don’t know the half of it."
"How long have you worked with him?"
"Nearly six years," the woman responded, before adding, "but sometimes it seems longer."
"That’s longer than a lot of marriages last."
"What are you implying?"
"Oh, nothing." Then, with a cocked eyebrow, he asked, "Should I be?"
Smirking, Scully replied, "Mulder and me? We’re just partners."
"Well, then, are you doing anything later tonight?"
Mildly taken aback, the agent asked, "Are you asking me out, Mr. Boyle?"
"Strictly as a fellow professional investigator, I assure you."
"Well, in that case, how about 8 o’clock?"
"Where are you staying?
"At the Holiday Inn near the airport."
"I’ll see you then."
Meanwhile, Mulder had stalked back to the car, remarking, "Scully, let’s go," leaving Derek standing with his arms crossed on the lawn.
As the feds pulled away, the Precept snidely remarked, "Well now that our only lead is gone, I’m glad to see that your personal life is alive and well."
"What? You mean Dana?"
"Oh, so it’s Dana now, is it?"
"So what, Derek? We’re just going to dinner."
"Ah ha, right. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret later."
"That’s my Derek. . . always the optimist."
"I’m not an optimist OR a pessimist, Nick. More like a realist. I’m talking from experience here."
*********************************************************************
Harris Residence
7:33 P. M.
The teen closed the side door, gingerly took off his jacket, and tossed it toward one of the kitchen chairs. Missing his mark, it instead hit the tile floor with a clang. Then, while rubbing his tender ribs, courtesy of several blows delivered during his workout with Ryan, he paused to stare into a mirror near the refrigerator.
"At least the eye isn’t black anymore."
"Xander is that you?"
"Yeah, mom," he called into the adjacent living room.
"How was school?"
"Just great. Same old, same old."
"That’s good, dear."
Mumbling, he then added, "If I’d gone, I’m sure it would’ve been great."
"Ah, Xander. . . we had a little problem with tonight’s dinner."
Uh oh, here it comes, he thought."What kind of problem, mom?"
Over the shouting of ‘Crossfire,’ came the reply."Your father burned it to a crisp. And since we didn’t know when you’d be home, we ate out."
"So what else is new?"
"What did you say, dear?"
"I said that’s OK. I’ll just grab something out."
"That’s good, dear."
Moving toward the kitchen door, Xander considered retrieving his jacket from the floor. Again rubbing his ribs, he thought of the weight of the weapon concealed within.
"Screw it! I’ll be right back."
*********************************************************************
Airport Holiday Inn
San Francisco, California
7:54 P. M.
"Who is it?"
A disheveled Fox Mulder -- even by Mulder’s own relaxed fashion standards -- opened the door to his room in response to the series of knocks. Emanating from within were the sounds of male grunts, groans, and female squealing.
"Scully? Is something wrong?"
With an eyebrow noticeably raised at her partner’s apparent television viewing habits, she responded after a few moments, "No, Mulder. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out tonight."
"Out? Is it something related to the case?"
"No. . . not exactly."
"OK. . . well, then, what exactly?"
"I haven’t been to San Francisco since college, and I really didn’t have the opportunity to see the sights then."
Quickly shutting off the TV, Mulder went to retrieve his suit jacket, remarking, "Neither have I. We’ll go together."
"Ah. . . no, Mulder. That’s not necessary."
Now with a suspicious tone in his voice, he asked, "What aren’t you telling me, Scully?"
"I’m. . . ah. . . already going out with someone tonight."
Obviously dejected, Mulder paused a few seconds before remarking, "It’s Boyle, isn’t it?"
She merely shook her head slowly in the affirmative.
"But you barely know the guy! At least let me finish checking him out first."
Now clearly exasperated, she remarked, "Mulder, you can’t check out all the guys I’m interested in dat. . . interested in."
"You were going to say ‘dating,’ weren’t you?"
"No, I wasn’t."
"Ah excuse me, am I interrupting something?"
The two agents were so engrossed in their discussion that they failed to notice Nick standing in the hallway.
"No!" exclaimed Scully.
"Yes!" exclaimed Mulder."
"No!" reiterated Scully. "I’m ready, let’s go."
As the couple was waiting for the elevator, Nick noticed Mulder still watching them. With the doors sliding closed, he couldn’t resist calling, "See you tomorrow morning, Mulder."
Now alone in the hallway, the agent muttered, "Maybe he’ll get hit by a cable car," before slinking back to his room.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the couple had reached Nick’s classic red 1965 Mustang convertible. Once behind the wheel, he inquired, "So where to?"
"It’s your call. You know the area best."
"Hey, that’s what I like to hear. Hope you like Italian."
*********************************************************************
Mockingbird Lane
Sunnydale, California
8:06 P. M.
While returning from Wing Ho’s all-night Chinese take-out joint, Xander was actually in a good mood. Well, pretty good considering that he was passionately in love with one girl who loved somebody else, had a stormy on-again, off-again relationship with the school beauty queen cum ice princess, and was concealing a forbidden encounter with the new Slayer in town. These were the major issues in the teenager’s life when THE sensation hit him. Stopping dead in his tracks, he muttered, "Oh, shit!" while quickly scanning the residential streetscape around him. Moments later, he saw a silhouette slowly emerge near the base of a large palm tree.
"I’m Joshua Whelon. . . and you are?"
Tempted to respond, "Wanting to be anywhere but here," Xander instead replied by simply stating his name, albeit nervously.
As the other Immortal emerged >from the shadows, the teen was momentarily relieved to see a face seemingly not much older, or threatening, than his own. However, he knew that when dealing with Immortals, looks could be deceiving.
"So do you prefer to go somewhere a little less public or just do it here?"
Used to cracking jokes when in danger, Xander remained true to form by quipping, "I don’t know about you, friend, but I usually prefer dinner and a movie first."
"Very droll, boy. I do hope you’re not a coward."
"Hey, this coward’s no boy, buddy."
"So then, you admit you’re a coward."
"No more than the next red-blooded American guy."
"Don’t flatter yourself, Xander Harris. I’ve killed dozens of men braver then you over the past 152 years." Slowly drawing a Confederate Army saber, Whelon added, "The youth of today have no honor."
Swallowing nervously, Xander replied, "What are you doing? We don’t even know each other."
"I know enough. We’re both Immortals. We’re both here. And you have a Quickening that I want. Did I forget anything?"
"But I’m not armed. How honorable would that be?"
Whelon then made a few exaggerated practice swipes as he approached. Xander, meanwhile, resisted the urge to start backpedaling.
"You’re carelessness is no concern of mine, Harris. Obviously your teacher failed to properly instruct you in the Rules of the Game." He then lunged forward, taking a swipe at Xander’s head. Before he could react, the teen felt a hot, stinging sensation on his right cheek. Reaching up, his hand came away bloody.
"Son of a bitch!"
The older Immortal then stepped back with a look of extreme satisfaction on his face, casually pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his overcoat, and wiped off the blade.
"You have a day to get your affairs in order, Harris. If you have a shred of honor, you’ll meet me tomorrow night at this time. But, be warned, if you run or try any tricks, I’ll find you."
Now overcoming the initial shock of his first challenge in general, and his close call with eternity in particular, Xander’s temper began to bubble.
"It’s a date, you bastard. Just name the place."
"The park."
"Which one, Brainiac, Sunnydale has a dozen parks."
"Then I’ll make it easy for you, Harris. The big one across from your school."
"That would be Memorial Park. . . I’ll be there."
After replying, "I hope so," Whelon added, "and one more thing. If I was a bastard, armed or not, you’d be dead now." He then turned and headed back to his car.
As the other Immortal drove off, Xander suddenly felt light-headed and nearly buckled to the pavement. Breathing heavily with cold sweat pooling on his face, he only now realized how close to death he had come. After a few minutes, he had composed himself enough to continue on while mumbling, "As if vampires and demons weren’t enough around here. . ."
When the street was clear, a lone figure slowly emerged from behind some bushes. With a pen clenched between her teeth, the young woman flipped a small notebook closed, pocketed the pen, and headed for the nearest phone. Within a few minutes, her report was being relayed to her immediate superior, located in a bar about 20 miles to the north in the city of Seacouver.
*********************************************************************
Fisherman’s Wharf
San Francisco, California
9:43 P. M.
Despite Nick Boyle’s best efforts, the discussion once again shifted back to business; this time, as he and Scully were walking along a festively decorated street after leaving Antonio’s Pasta and Seafood House.
"So how long have you worked for the Luna Foundation?"
"About ten years, right after I left the military. But Derek knew my parents way longer than that."
"So he’s a friend and not just your boss?"
"Derek? Yeah, definitely. We’ve pulled each other out of some tight jams." After a few moments, he then asked, "And how long have you worked for the feds?"
"About eight years. I joined the Bureau shortly after I graduated from medical school."
"Why?"
"I found that doctors can be antiseptic. . . pardon the pun. Now don’t get me wrong, I love science, but I didn’t think I’d be making much of a difference waiting for the bodies to roll through the door."
"So you wanted to make a difference?"
"Sure, don’t you?"
Gently taking hold of her hand, Nick responded, "Absolutely."
A few blocks further down, they heard rock music wafting from a posh club. In an uncharacteristically spontaneous moment, Scully started pulling Nick toward the door.
"Dana, where are we going?"
"I haven’t gone clubbing in ages. Let’s try this place."
As they approached the place, Nick quickly surveyed the scene. With a red carpet leading from the front door, the club had an eclectic mix of stretch limos and motorcycles parked out in front. There were also fashionably dressed young people and bikers huddled in groups within velvet roped areas. Above the door, "The Haven" was spelled out in curved script letters. Realizing they had practically no chance of even getting past the burly bouncers, Nick started to remark, "I think this joint is seriously out of my. . ." when a sudden sensation overwhelmed his senses. Feeling his hand contract on hers, Scully also noticed the cautious expression on his face.
"Nick are you alright?"
While scanning the front of the building with renewed interest, he replied, "Yeah, I’m fine," before quickly adding, "I guess the pasta salad didn’t agree with me."
"Do you want to go home?"
Before he could respond, a young curly-haired man with a thin beard emerged from the club and strode rapidly in their direction.
"Nick, how are you?"
"Cash?"
"The one and only. And who do we have here?"
With some hesitation, the Immortal replied, "Ah. . . Dana, this is Cash. We’ve. . . ah. . . worked together in the past."
After shaking hands with the newcomer, Scully asked, "Do you work for the Luna Foundation too?"
Upon mentioning the name "Luna," Nick swore that several nearby conversations ceased, but it might only have been his imagination. Cash, however, remained unfazed, replying with a grin, "No, not exactly." Then, turning back to Nick, he asked, "So, you coming in?"
"In? I’m not sure this is my kinda place."
"C’mon, Nick. It’s still early. Let’s go in."
With Scully tugging him along by the arm, they entered an atmosphere of loud music and chic revelers. In short, a place where the beautiful people went to be seen. It was also not the sort of place often frequented by the normally down to earth Dana Scully.
Meanwhile, the sensation clawing at the back of Nick’s mind never ceased for a moment. He knew others with lifelines equal to his own were all around, in fact one of them had invited them into the place. As they passed through the crowd, he noticed furtive glances being cast in their direction. This continued until Cash finally brought them to a prime table near the base of a sweeping, curved, red carpeted staircase. He also instructed one of the waiters to bring them a bottle of wine.
"Cash, you really don’t have to do this."
"Yes, I do. Tonight, you’re our guests."
"I thought you never came here before, Nick?" inquired Scully.
"I haven’t."
"You might say that Nick’s an acquaintance of the owner."
The wine -- red, of course -- soon arrived courtesy of a waiter who smoothly uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid while casting emerald-colored eyes in Scully’s direction. Seeing this, Nick couldn’t help but frown. Then, after meeting the Immortal’s gaze, the waiter bowed his head slightly and was gone.
"The wine’s local. . . produced in the valley. Our owner’s very fond of it. If you need anything else, just ask."
"Thank you," replied Scully.
With a nod, the young man then ascended the stairs and disappeared from view.
"Somebody must owe you a favor?"
"Hey, this is a surprise for me too."
*********************************************************************
Upstairs, in a large, wood paneled conference room, Cash re-entered a meeting already in progress. This action also caused a momentary lull in the shouting that permeated the space moments before. After bending down to whisper something to the man seated at the head of the table, which elicited a barely perceptible nod, he again took his place. In addition to those seated, personal bodyguards ringed the room.
"Oh, I’m so glad that the Prince’s errand boy is back. I guess we can continue now."
"I’ll show you who’s an errand boy, you piece of Brujah dogshit!"
"Cash, please. Ignore him."
"I’ll cut your heart out and feast on it, Gangrel!"
"Cameron, that’s enough!"
"My. . . my. . . what a surprise, the boys are fighting again," cooed Lillie Langtry, the only woman present.
The two other men in the room -- one of whom looked to be in his mid-20s with a full head of wavy black hair -- looked annoyed, while the other -- who appeared much older and was utterly bald -- remained clam, seemingly detached from the proceedings. The younger one turned to his friend and remarked, "Every week. . . every month, it’s always the same. I hate it!Now I know why I stayed away."
"You must learn to put things in perspective, Angelus. In the final analysis, these squabbles mean nothing."
"Yeah, Daedalus, but they get old real fast."
As he said this, the younger man felt a leg quickly rub against his own. Turning, he spied Lillie, wearing a flowing red evening ensemble, including elbow length gloves, coyly running her tongue over her lips. "I know something we can do to alleviate the boredom, Angelus."
[Boom. . . boom]
All heads swiftly pivoted in the direction of the man at the head of the table, who’s fists were balled in front of him. His eyes flashing, he stated flatly, "This is your final warning. I will not tolerate any more outbursts. This is a Kindred Conclave, not a schoolyard brawl."
"Is there a difference?" asked the woman.
"Lillie, now don’t you start."
"Fine. I’ll be good. . . I promise."
After pausing to insure everyone’s silence, Julian Luna continued, "Very well. Then maybe we can get back to the business at hand."
In addition to Julian, the immaculately tailored Ventrue Prince of the City, those seated at the table included Lillie, Toreador Primogen and the club’s manager, and Cameron, Brujah Primogen, wearing a blue Hugo Boss pinstripe suit and red striped tie. Across the table sat Daedalus, Nosferatu Primogen, wearing a black vest over an old fashioned starched white shirt with frilly lace cuffs. Next to him sat Cash, wearing his trademark leather jacket and jeans. Down at the other end of the table sat Angelus -- Angel to his human acquaintances -- the recently named Tremere Primogen. Between them, they represented the assorted clans of vampire or, as they preferred, Kindred society maintaining a critically important "Masquerade" of normalcy to the human population of San Francisco. Their law stated in no uncertain terms that anyone who threatened to expose this Masquerade had to be dealt with severely. . . usually terminally.
Each clan also had their special interests and character traits. The level-headed Ventrue were known for their business acumen, while the vain Toreador excelled at the arts; the petty Brujah always striving for respectability but unable to put aside brutality and hatred, especially against their sworn enemies, the Gangrels, a nomadic race of shapeshifters known for exceptional loyalty. The oldest race among them was the enigmatic Nosferatu who, despite their beastly appearance, were capable of offering both the wisest council or the harshest punishment depending on their own self-interests. Their cousins, the Tremere, while more human in appearance, were no less enigmatic. Displaying the widest range of traits among all the clans, some of their number were known for loyalty and wisdom, while others were raving loons (in fact, specific individuals, in exceptionally rare cases, were known to display the entire spectrum).
The Prince continued, "Cameron, how do you plan to resolve the labor dispute at the dockworkers’ local?"
Without looking up, the Brujah replied, "Bust some heads, break some legs. . . some old, same old."
With a look of disgust, Julian remarked, "Why don’t you try something radical this time, like collective bargaining?"
"Because, my Prince," he stated sarcastically, "if they don’t fear you, they don’t work as hard. Sometimes you have to make an example out of someone. . . or several someones."
With a note of finality, the Prince stated, "And I’ll be the one who decides when that is, not you. We don’t want to arouse the suspicions of law enforcement with bodies turning up in the bay. Am I clear?"
"As crystal," Cameron spat in reply, fingering his tie.
"How about you, Lillie? How are our entertainment interests performing."
"Glowingly, Julian," she purred. "This economy seems to have provided our patrons with lots of lovely disposable income. And I always make sure I’m in the proper position to take full advantage of these situations."
"That’s what I’ve heard," muttered Cameron.
After shooting him a warning glance, the Prince remarked, "That’s, ah, very good, Lillie. Please keep up the good work."
"Of course, Julian."
Now looking down the table, he glanced at his long-time confidant and enforcer, "Anything we should be aware of, Daedalus?"
Unsteepling his long, claw-like fingers, he glanced around the room and began."The Nosferatu sages have interpreted an alarming prophesy in the ancient writings."
"What type of prophesy?" asked the Prince. However, before Daedalus could answer, Cameron remarked, "Bunch of ghouls reading tea leaves in the sewers. Very helpful."
Turning to his much younger peer, the Nosferatu Primogen responded with utter control, "Just because the Brujah do not subscribe to the Old Ways does not make them any less valuable." Then, turning back toward Julian, he continued, "The sages cannot at this time gauge the significance of the event, other than to say that it correlates to the astronomical event we now see in the night sky."
"The supernova?"
"Precisely."
"Well, when you can tell us anything more, please do so."
"Of course, Julian," he replied, nodding, while refolding his hands on the table.
"Good. Now Angelus, do you have anything to report?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied with obvious boredom in his voice. As you requested, I funneled a $3 million donation through one of our front companies to build a new children’s wing at San Francisco General Hospital. Your other enterprises also seem to be in order this quarter."
"Very good. Anything else?"
"Such as?"
"Any new developments in Sunnydale?"
After grimacing, he stated, "Yeah, there’s a new band of rogue Kindred in town -- led by a renegade Brujah calling himself ‘Mr. Trick. ’But, with two Slayers, everything’s pretty much under control." As he finished, Angel felt a set of sharp nails rake the inside of his thigh. Suppressing the urge to jump out of his chair, he instead reached under the table and grabbed the intruding limb. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lillie smile.
Seemingly oblivious, Julian now faced Cameron.
"Renegade Brujah? What do you know of this?"
"Trick’s a troublemaker. Always has been. Never had any respect for the chain of command." With a dismissive wave of his hand, he added, "Do with him as you wish."
"And I’m sure you have no idea how he ended up in Sunnydale," Angel added skeptically.
"None whatsoever."
After this exchange ended, Daedalus picked up on something else, asking, "How are there two Slayers, Angelus? The prophesies say that a new Slayer is called only when the first one dies."
With a hint of exasperation in his voice, Angel replied, "It’s a LONG story. Just take my word for it."
"How cozy. They’re multiplying like cockroaches. I guess now you’ll be the meat in a Slayer sandwich."
In response, Angelus snarled, "You shut your filthy mouth, Cameron. Or I’ll knock those capped fangs down your throat."
"Yeah? You and what army?"
"Cameron, I’ve warned you once already."
"Don’t you understand, Julian. It’s not right. We’re helping mortals kill others of our kind. We’re traitors to our race, plain and simple."
"That’s the Prince’s decision," Daedalus offered, "we must respect it."
Having finally lost his own patience, Julian roared, "That’s enough! I've already explained my reasoning for this course of action and I won’t repeat myself."
"We should kill those bitches now and be done. . ."
Angel then lunged across the table. Taking Cameron’s bodyguard by surprise, he instantly swept the Brujah Primogen out of his high-backed chair and onto the polished wood floor.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Scully heard an odd knocking sound coming from the ceiling above their table.
"What’s that?"
Looking up, Nick simply offered, "You know these old buildings. Probably just settling."
Back upstairs, as Cash and Lillie looked on with satisfied grins, Julian had risen to his feet while Daedalus and Cameron’s bodyguard attempted to peel the enraged and fully transformed Tremere off Cameron’s chest. Not having much success, the Brujah bodyguard withdrew a specially modified firearm and began to take aim at Angel’s head.
"NO WEAPONS!" roared Julian.
Seeing what was about to happen, Cash sprung into action, knocking the gun off target. As it fired, a high-velocity phosphorous shell instantly set the room’s massive Oriental rug aflame.
Hearing the muffled sound of gunfire above, Scully’s training caused her to reach for her weapon. Without saying another word to Nick, she leapt from the table and started up the stairs.
"Dana, stop! Don’t go up there!"
As she approached the massive door at the top of the stairs, she withdrew her badge and told the two guards to stand aside. When they didn’t flinch, she drew her gun and repeated the demand. However, before the men had the opportunity to comply -- or more likely not comply -- the door opened to reveal a smoky interior. A man with slicked black hair stood calmly in the doorway.
"What seems to be the problem, young lady?"
"I’m a federal agent, sir. I thought I heard gunfire."
"Gunfire? Here?"
"Yes sir, please step aside."
"By all means, please come in and look around." As Scully cautiously entered he room, Nick exchanged glances with Julian before following her.
With the scorched floor covering still smoldering, everyone sat stock still around the table. So still in fact that a weird thought crossed Scully’s mind, "They don’t seem to be breathing." Quickly dismissing this impossibility, her training as a professional observer kicked in as she noted that one young man seemed to be seething while another was holding a handkerchief to the back of his head. Still another man, bald and possibly blind, wore heavy sunglasses with his hands tucked out of sight beneath the table. A woman, smiling, had her eyes glued to the man sitting directly across from her while their host, Cash, also looked extremely pleased about something.
Quickly becoming unsure of her actions, Dana stammered, "I thought I heard a shot."
Coming up alongside her, Julian offered, "Actually, Cameron over there accidentally tripped and fell, striking his head. That’s what you probably heard. Unfortunately, his cigarette ignited the rug."
Still not convinced, she now addressed Cameron, "I’m also a medical doctor. If you’d like, I can. . ."
"I’ll be fine."
"You might have internal bleeding. It could be very. . ."
"I said I’ll be fine!" Cameron hissed.
Nick, noticing Julian’s fist clench, whispered to Scully, "I think it’s time we go."
Holstering her pistol, she turned to Julian and, somewhat shyly, stated, "I’m sorry for the intrusion, sir."
"That’s quite alright, Agent. . . ?"
"Scully, sir. Special Agent Dana Scully."
"I understand completely. We all have duties to perform. Good evening."
"Thank you, sir."
As she turned and left, Nick paused a moment, meeting the many faces suddenly staring at him. After shrugging, he also departed. As the door closed behind them, Nick remarked, "Well, that was different. Can’t say I’ve ever done that before."
"I could’ve swore I heard something."
Taking her by the arm, he remarked, "I usually don’t start hearing things until my fourth or fifth drink. Let’s go back downstairs and see if we can reach that goal."
Back in the meeting room, Julian addressed Cameron, "You and your trigger happy flunky nearly endangered the Masquerade."
"I nearly endangered the Masquerade? You can’t be serious, Julian. What about that freak over there? He would’ve destroyed me."
"If I’d wanted that, Cameron, they’d need a vacuum to suck you up," remarked Angel through still clenched teeth.
"I’ll drink to that," added Cash.
"Now listen, both of you," warned Julian, "I won’t tolerate any more outbursts. Do I make myself clear?"
[Rrrrr] "Slayer lover."
[Grrrr] "Goon."
"I SAID, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, right, fine."
"Very well then, let’s finish with the last order of business for the evening. As you know, all the West Coast princes are due to meet later this week in Seattle. Since I will, of course, be there with my brethren, I trust that all of you will continue to conduct business in my absence. However, should there be any issues that need to be addressed immediately, I’ve asked Daedalus, as senior Primogen, to resolve them. I expect all of you to give him the same respect or, if this meeting is any indication, perhaps MORE respect, than you give me. Are there any questions?"
Receiving none, he concluded by remarking, "Very well then. This Conclave stands in recess."
Cameron immediately bolted for the door, muttering, "It’s about time." Next out was Daedalus who, after bowing slightly toward his Prince, opened a hidden passageway in the wall and departed by way of a staircase leading down to the sewers. Lillie also rose and playfully tousled Angel’s hair. While passing Julian, she whispered coyly, "His passions remind me of how you USE to be." Receiving only a glare in response, she added, "I’m only kidding, Julian," before also departing.
Allowing his head to sag to the tabletop, Angel sighed, "Julian, I’ve been to Hell and back. . . literally. But, I’m telling you, this is worse. I want out!"
"I’m sorry, Angelus. I need your support in the Conclave."
"My support? I almost killed Cameron. . . I WANTED to dust his ass. How would that have played on the streets?"
"The Brujah wouldn’t have liked it. . . but they rarely like anything anyhow."
"But the Gangrels would’ve owed you big time," Cash added with a smile.
"Julian, I feel caged here. I want. . . NEED. . . to go home. It’s been nearly a month. You’re going to be out of town and Daedalus doesn’t need my help."
After several moments of deliberative silence, Julian rendered his decision, "Fine, Angelus, as a personal favor from me to you, go back to Sunnydale for a week. . . but only for a week. I expect to see you back here when I return."
"Julian. . ."
"That’s my final offer, Angelus. Take it or leave it."
"Yeah, fine. I’ll take it."
"Good. . . oh, but there IS one more thing."
Now wary, Angel asked with some trepidation, "What’s that?"
"Take Cash with you."
"WHAT!" both exclaimed simultaneously.
"Ever since you broke up with Sasha, you’ve been moping, Cash. The change in scenery might do you good. A chance to bay at the moon or run through the woods or something. . . don’t Gangrels like that sort of thing?"
"But Julian, I always go on trips with you. You need a bodyguard," whined the young Kindred.
"So assign one of your lieutenants, Cash."
"But my apartment only has one bedroom," stammered Angel.
"So he’ll sleep on the couch."
"But Julian. . ." they both started.
"That’s my decision. Both of you will take a break. Now deal with it." The Prince then spun on his heel and left the room.
After an extended silence, the younger vampire asked, "Does Buffy have a sister?"
"Now don’t you start with me."
"OK. . . OK. . . don’t bite my head off."
"Ha ha. . . very funny."
*********************************************************************
Rosenberg Residence
Sunnydale, California
10:13 P. M.
[Clink] [Clink] [Clink] [Crack]
"Oops."
Cautiously lifting her now cracked bedroom window, Willow Rosenberg poked her head outside, looked down, and saw. . . nothing. However, just as she was about to write the episode off to typical Sunnydale weirdness, she heard a familiar voice.
"Willow."
"Xander? Is that you?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you?"
"Over here. Under the azaleas."
"What are you doing there?"
Ignoring the question, he quickly crawled out from under the shrubbery, stating, "Sorry about the window. It’s kinda late and I didn’t think your parents would appreciate me ringing the bell."
"But you thought climbing in my window would be OK?"
After instantly replying, "No, of course not. . ." he hesitantly added, ". . . but now that you mention it. Can I come up?"
With a resigned look on her face, she stepped back from the window. Soon a foot, followed by a leg, followed by a Xander, had joined her inside.
"Thanks. So what ya up to?"
"Studying, Xander. . . for tomorrow’s history test. You remember, the one we BOTH have to take. Oh, no, but maybe you don’t, since you’ve cut school for three days."
"No, I know. . . Cordy told me about it."
"Oh. Well, good."
"What’s it on again?"
"Just the entire history of the United States. You haven’t even started studying, have you?"
"Sure I have. I’m up to the Revolutionary War."
"Ah. . . Xander, that still leaves 220 years to go."
"Yeah, right. No sweat."
While he was speaking, Willow noticed the now faint scar on his face.
"Xander, what happened? You’re cut."
"This? It’s nothing, Will. Sliced myself shaving."
Reaching up, she ran her hand along the rapidly healing tissue. As she felt the blood pulsing through his arteries, Xander reached for her while tentatively moving closer.
Pulling her hand back as if burned, she blurted, "This isn’t right, Xander. What are you doing here?"
Taken back by her reaction, he angrily responded, "Obviously making an ass out of myself."
"We can’t do this. Don’t you remember what happened last time?"
"Yeah. . . I think so. It’s not easy to forget Cordy with a six-inch piece of pipe sticking in her gut."
"So then why are you here?"
"I don’t know, Will. I just thought. . ."
"Well, you thought wrong. I think you should leave. . . NOW!"
Before he could reply, the girl turned her back to him.
After slowly moving to the window, Xander paused to state, "I’m sorry, Will. About everything."
When he was gone, Willow Rosenberg flung her history book across the room before burying her head in a pillow, sobbing.
*********************************************************************
Airport Holiday Inn
11:43 P. M.
[Ring] [Ring] [Ring]
[Beep] "Hello."
"Mulder?"
"Yeah. Frohike is that you?"
"Duh. . . who else has your number, Mulder? Except for your partner, of course. Which reminds me, how is the little vixen?"
"Never mind the vixen. . . ah, I mean, Scully. What time is it anyhow?"
"Almost 3 o’clock in the morning here. Midnight there. Why?"
"Don’t you guys ever sleep?"
"In a word, Mulder, no."
Rubbing his eyes, the agent then asked, "So what do you have for me?"
"Langly’s been checking on those guys you asked about. . . Rayne and Boyle. I’ll put him on the speaker."
"Mulder?"
"Yeah, Langly. Did you find out anything?"
"It wasn’t easy, Mulder. I hope you appreciate that I had to call in several favors at State and Defense."
"Fine. I owe you one."
"More like ten, Mulder."
"Yeah, yeah. . . so talk to me."
"Dr. Derek Rayne. . . parents deceased. No direct family remaining. Graduated first in his class at Oxford, receiving a doctorate in anthropology. After that, he spent nearly 20 years digging up ruins around the world for the Luna Foundation. At least up till seven years ago."
"What happened seven years ago?"
"He suddenly decided to settle in San Francisco. Since then, he’s been responsible for importing hundreds of artifacts into the country and -- this is where it gets interesting -- unlike the vast majority of importers, the Luna Foundation holds a Class IV import license from the State Department."
"A Class IV license? I’ve never heard of that."
"That’s because they’re very rarely issued. Want to know why?"
"I’m hooked, Langly, why?"
"Because it allows for the importation of goods into the country without a bothersome Customs check."
"That’s impossible."
"No, Mulder, it’s unusual, but not impossible."
"But that means Rayne can be smuggling ANYTHING into the country."
"Exactly."
"And what about Boyle?"
"This is really interesting."
"More interesting than a license to smuggle? I can hardly wait to hear this."
"According to the DoD’s military archives, Nicholas Boyle was born in 1954. . ."
"Whoa. . . stop right there, Langly. You must have the wrong guy. No way is this guy 45 years old. Thirty-five, tops."
"Excuse me, Mulder, but I DO have the right guy. In fact, only one Nick Boyle has ever served in the U. S. military. Maybe they got his DOB wrong."
"It wouldn’t be the first time. What else?"
"Where was I? Oh yeah, after completing basic training, he was transferred to Fort Bragg. Guess why?"
"Special ops."
"Ding. Give that man a cigar. In fact, it seems that Boyle was involved in many of the little black projects that the Reagan Administration financed south of the border."
"Such as?"
"Don’t know. Even I don’t have access to that information."
"I’m disappointed, Langly."
"Hey, they don’t call them black ops for nothing, Mulder. All I can tell you is that something went seriously wrong with Boyle’s military career in 1988."
"How wrong?"
"Dead wrong. During an operation in Colombia codenamed ‘Bottled Lightning,’ ten men were killed. Boyle was court marshaled and narrowly escaped conviction. Instead, he was allowed to resign under less than sterling circumstances."
"That could make a guy hold a grudge against the good old U. S. of A. What happened after he left the service?"
"I was just getting to that, Mulder."
"I knew you would."
"Since the early ‘90s, he been working for Rayne in San Francisco. In fact, Boyle’s foster father. . ."
"Boyle’s adopted?"
"Oh yeah, didn’t I mention that?"
"No."
"Sorry. Yeah, he’s adopted. It seems that the military couldn’t reconcile his blood type to either of his parents. That’s how he found out."
"That must’ve been pretty rough."
"Yeah, well anyhow, until his death, Boyle’s foster father, also a military type, used to work with Rayne. Guess where."
"The Luna Foundation."
"You’re really on a roll tonight, Mulder."
"Thanks. Did you find out anything about the Luna Foundation itself?"
"We’re working on that. Hold on, I’ll put Frohike back on."
"Mulder?"
"Yeah, still here."
"I’m here with Byers."
"Hey, how’s it hanging, Mulder?"
"Hi, Byers. Talk to me. Any luck so far?"
"Yeah, but it’s been a real bitch."
"I’m shocked, Byers. Losing your touch?"
"Losing my touch, my ass, Mulder. As we speak, I’m using the most sophisticated hack. . . ah. . . search and retrieval software available in the western world to access these records. All I can say is that for a stuffy non-profit organization, they sure own some choice real estate."
"How choice?"
"Extremely choice. Founded in San Francisco by a guy named Julian Luna nearly 125 years ago. . ."
"Any relation to the multimillionaire and reputed mob boss?"
"Yeah, his grandfather, to be exact. Anyhow, they own a major chunk of Angel Island in the middle of San Francisco Bay; townhouses in midtown Manhattan and on London’s Downing Street; a large compound in Montreal; holdings in Paris, Moscow. . ."
"Fine, I get the picture. They’re loaded."
"Big-time loaded, Mulder. And they seem to have friends in very high places around the globe."
"No shit."
"Also, according to the SFPD, Angel Island is not exactly Paradise Island."
"What do you mean?"
"The cops have retrieved bodies there on occasion. Quite a few occasions, actually."
"Murders?"
"No. . . not exactly."
"Not exactly? Byers, people are murdered, commit suicide, get killed accidentally, or die of natural causes. Which is it?"
"Well, according to the medical examiner’s reports, nearly every incident was classified as ‘unexplained,’ but none were fully investigated."
"Convenient. And we have an appointment with that ME tomorrow morning." Changing tracks, he then asked, "Did you find out how the Luna Foundation makes its money?"
"Hold on a sec, Mulder, I’m accessing those files now."
*********************************************************************
San Francisco Legacy House
Angel Island
11:51 P. M.
With alarm klaxons suddenly blaring throughout the house, Derek Rayne, Dr. Rachel Corrigan and Alexandra Moreau emerged from their bedrooms and immediately headed for the stairs leading down to the ground floor of the mansion.
"Derek, what’s wrong?"
"Some sort of security breach."
"Where’s Nick?" asked Alex.
After quickly glancing around, the Precept of the house replied, "He must not be home. . . yet."
With Derek in the lead, three pairs of slippers quickly padded across the polished wooden floors of a large sitting room moving toward a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Tripping a sensor, they also activated a laser that scanned the patterns of blood vessels in their eyes. Seconds later, after matches were made, the security system deactivated a holograph camouflaging the entrance to a state-of-the-art control room. As the illusionary bookcase once again solidified behind them, Alex began booting up idle computers and activating darkened monitors around the room. Sitting down at a keyboard, she immediately began running a series of diagnostic programs and implementing various security protocols.
"What’ve we got, Alex?"
"Hackers. . . damn good ones from the looks of it. They’re trying to invade our secure personnel and historical databases."
"That shouldn’t be possible."
"I know. Like I said, they’re good."
"Where are they located?"
"I’m running a trace now." After a few seconds, she added, "They’re trying to conceal their location by routing the call through various cities and satellites."
"Can you find them?"
"Oh yeah. Give me a minute."
Soon, a series of lines were racing across a computer display of North America’s communications network. Shortly thereafter, a map of suburban Rockville, Maryland was highlighted while telephone numbers and street addresses flashed along the bottom of the screen.
"Gotcha," remarked Alex, while Derek picked up a phone and started dialing.
*********************************************************************
A Nondescript House in
Suburban Maryland
11:56 P. M.
"OK, Mulder, we’re into their personnel records. It seems that Rayne’s job title is ‘Precept,’ whatever the hell that is. Boyle, meanwhile, is in charge of security. Why would a non-profit group need muscle?"
"Good question, Byers. Anything else?"
"Yeah, they work with two women, a headshrinker by the name of Rachel Corrigan and a researcher named Alexandra Moreau. Hey, she’s quite a looker, Mulder."
"Can we please stick to the topic?"
"You’re no fun anymore, Mulder."
"Byers. . ."
"Yeah. . . yeah, the file also lists an associate of the organization, a priest no less."
His head suddenly snapping up from his notepad, the agent stated, "His name’s Philip Callahan, right?"
"Right. How’d you know?"
"Lucky guess. Did you find out anything about their so-called cases?"
"Hold on, Mulder, we’ve got a problem."
"What’s wrong, Byers?"
"Hey Frohike, Langly, take a look at this."
"What the hell! That’s impossible!
"Byers? Frohike? Langly? Talk to me. What’s happening?"
"They’re tracing the call, Mulder!"
"Langly, break the connection!"
"It won’t terminate!"
"Mulder, they’re on to us!"
"Frohicke, we’ve got bugs in the system!"
"Mulder, our hardware’s being nuked. Those bastards must’ve juiced us with a new type of virus."
Through the receiver, the agent then heard an amplified voice state, "THIS IS THE POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
"Man, we’re so busted. . . there are cops everywhere out there! What’ve you gotten us into this time, Mulder?"
*********************************************************************
Airport Holiday Inn
January 14
12:07 A. M.
[Crash] [Click] [Beep]
"Guys? Frohicke? Byers? Langly? Hello? Oh shit!"
A few minutes later, the agent’s already bad night got worse. Hearing sounds coming from the hallway, he peered through the peephole to see what was happening. As he suspected, Scully had returned from her not-a-date with Nick Boyle. Placing his ear flat against the door, he tried to hear what was being said.
"Thanks for a great evening, Dana. Sorry that I’m not much of a dancer."
["Guess they didn’t teach you that in Special Forces, you big doofus!"]
"Neither am I, Nick. But, while we’re apologizing, I’m sorry I made a scene in your friend’s club. I feel like a complete fool."
["It must’ve been some date, Scully."]
"Oh, I’m sure everybody’s forgotten about it already."
Looking down at her watch, she remarked, "It’s getting late and we have an early day tomorrow. . ."
["Send him packing, Scully."]
". . . unless you have time for a nightcap?"
["What!? ! No, don’t do it, Scully!"]
Taking her hand, Nick replied, "I’ll make time for it, Dana."
["You damn lecher, roll your tongue back in your head!"]
As Scully searched for her room key, Nick gently rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.
["I don’t believe this!]
However, at that moment, Nick’s cellular phone began to ring.
[Answer it. Answer it! ANSWER IT!"]
Remarking, "I know I’ll probably regret this," Nick pulled the phone out of his pocket.
["YEEEESSSS!"]
"Hello? No, Derek, it’s no problem. In the secure files? Yeah, got it. I’ll be there as fast as I can." Snapping the phone closed, he turned to Scully and dejectedly stated, "Duty calls. Some hackers got into our system."
At the mention of computer hackers, Scully’s right eyebrow rose. "I understand. Drive safely, Nick. It’s late."
"I will."
Heading back toward the elevator, the two then shared a long parting kiss. Mulder, meanwhile, once again felt his blood pressure rising.
["Hey buddy, don’t let the door hit you in the ass."]
After Nick was gone, Scully walked over to Mulder’s door and knocked. After a few moments, he answered while pulling on a bathrobe.
"Oh, Scully, you’re back. How was your night?"
"Very nice, Mulder. And yours?"
"Quiet. Watched some old movies on TV." With a smile, he added, "I fell asleep."
Pausing a moment before responding, Scully finally remarked, "That’s truly amazing. Because I saw shadows moving around under your door for the past few minutes."
As the grin evaporated from his face, she added, "Good night, Mulder," before turning on her heel, disappearing into her own room, and slamming the door.
["Damn!"]
*********************************************************************
County Medical Examiner’s
Office
Oakland, California
10:02 A. M.
"This is Dr. Dana Scully recording this audio postmortem exam record. Assisting me is Dr. Teresa Graves from the County Medical Examiner’s Office. Also in attendance are Dr. Derek Rayne and Nicholas Boyle of the Luna Foundation, who are assisting in this investigation, as well as my partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder."
With the sound of a high speed drill now audible, she continued, "This is the autopsy of a John Doe, Caucasian, approximate age 21, with third and fourth degree burns over 100 percent of his body. As expected, identification will have to be made through dental records since the subject is unrecognizable."
"I’m now making an incision along the chest cavity. Epidermal and dermal tissues show a great deal of carbonization consistent with severe burns. . . cause unknown. There also seems to be a total absence of latent liquefied blood, which is rare but not unprecedented in cases involving extreme heat. I’m now cutting through the ribs to expose the inner chest cavity. That’s odd. Dr. Graves can you take a look at this."
"Humm. . . I’ve never seen that before, but I read about it in med school."
"What is it, Scully?"
"There’s an extra pair of ribs present in the ribcage, Mulder."
"I’m more of a thigh man, myself," Nick commented dryly.
"We’ve now split the ribcage to. . . what in God’s name?"
"Dr. Scully, what is it?" asked Derek.
"I never saw ANYTHING like that in med school," added Dr. Graves.
"The internal organs seem to be totally atrophied from disuse. There also seems to be an extra organ, or possibly a tumor. . . we’ll have to biopsy that. . . near the heart."
"In English, Scully. What’s wrong?"
"This man should have been dead long ago, Mulder. His organs appear essentially useless."
"Could it have been caused by the fire?"
"Mulder, before I’ll even hazard a guess about that, this body will require a complete examination."
*********************************************************************
11:25 A. M.
"I’m now proceeding to examine the musculature and skeletal structure of the upper chest and shoulders. Earlier X-rays revealed structures that are abnormal and may very well represent birth defects. Dr. Graves, what is your opinion?"
"Looks like the collar bone is grossly malformed. Also, there appears to be an added band of tendons and cartilage connected to the structure. I’d be surprised if this man could raise his arms over his head."
"Why?" asked Mulder.
"Because these hooked bones on top of the scapula shouldn’t be there. The slightest move must have been incredibly painful. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was looking at a bird’s wing rather than a man’s shoulder."
"A bird? How’s that?"
"Well, Agent Mulder, my father was a vet, so I’ve examined all sorts of animals. Basically, this bone and muscle assembly resembles a bird’s wing, although I realize that’s impossible."
While meeting the glances of Derek and Nick, Mulder repeated, "Yeah, impossible."
*********************************************************************
1:15 P. M.
"So what’s your professional opinion, Dr. Scully?"
Removing her latex gloves and goggles, she responded, "Without waiting for the lab results to come back, you realize that anything I say would be premature. "
"Of course," replied Derek.
"I’d say that our John Doe here was suffering from numerous congenital birth defects. How he lived into adulthood is amazing, but not unprecedented. His quality of life must have been horrendous."
"He was probably trying to improve it by jumping out a third floor window," Mulder snidely remarked.
"And it didn’t stop him from killing the motel clerk," Nick added quickly.
"That’s yet to be proven, Nick," Scully remarked, before asking, "so what’s our next move?"
Glancing at his partner, Mulder remarked, "Well, according to Mrs. Demerest, her daughter may be staying with her grandmother."
"And you didn’t bother to mention this yesterday?" asked Derek.
"We didn’t know about it until this morning," replied Mulder. "We visited Mrs. Demerest after her husband went to work. Not surprisingly, she was much more cooperative today. Do you have a problem with that, Dr. Rayne?"
"Possibly. . . yes. We might have been able to question Marie Demerest and her husband before coming here."
"No, first Scully had to examine this body. Otherwise, we might not have had the full picture when we interviewed the suspects."
"They’re suspects now?" asked Nick. "When did they stop being witnesses or possibly victims and become suspects?"
"Since I ran a background check on the girl’s new husband and he came up dirty."
"Dirty? How?"
"There’s absolutely no record of a Mario Seraphim being born in California or anywhere else in the United States. Likewise, there’s no immigration record for a person by that name. In fact, the last Mario Seraphim for which there is a record was a medic in the Army."
"So maybe he’s our guy," stated Nick.
"Unfortunately, that Mario Seraphim has been dead for 30 years. He disappeared in Vietnam. . . in 1968."
"What do you think we’re dealing with here, Agent Mulder?" inquired Derek.
"I’m not sure. . . yet. But I know we should find Marie and Mario Seraphim."
"Where are they?"
"A small backwater south of here. . . a ‘burb called Sunnydale."
At mention of the town, Derek and Nick exchanged anxious glances.
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Gymnasium
2:07 P. M.
As Xander entered the gym, he noticed the usual football clique standing off to one side, laughing loudly, horsing around, and being the usual arrogant assholes that they were. With them was John Nuzzi, the football coach who, unfortunately, was also a sadistic physical education teacher for the senior class. The Immortal also noticed that the group’s chief instigator, a linebacker named Larry -- whom Xander himself had had some rather bizarre encounters in the past -- was motioning toward a guy who was standing alone near the bleachers. However, he didn’t recognize the student.
"OK, today we’re going to practice some self defense techniques. Now split up. . ."
Suddenly interrupted by a wildly waving hand, Nuzzi, a former Marine Corps drill instructor, scowled, "What is it, Myron?"
"Sir, my chiropractor says that I should avoid strenuous activities."
Angrily folding his arms, which caused the large USMC tattoo on his right forearm to flex noticeably, Nuzzi approached the student, stating, "Now listen to me you pantywaist. Do you think the Commies are going to care about your miserable scrawny back. . ."
"Ah. . . it’s my neck, sir."
"Fine, I stand corrected. . . your miserable scrawny chicken neck. . . when they try to overrun this great country of ours? Well, do you?"
Standing off to one side of the assembled group, Xander whispered to the new guy now standing next to him, "Cheez. . . this freak’s right outta the ‘50s."
Without turning, the other student remarked, "Actually, more like the Stone Age."
As his head instantly whipped around to face the two, Nuzzi sneered, "You say something, Harris?"
Deciding that this was the perfect time to closely examine his Nikes, Xander replied without looking up, "Me? Nope. Never. Not me."
Nuzzi then turned on the other student, asking, "How about you?"
"What about me, sir?"
"I was wondering if the greaseball who knocked up his girlfriend had any pearls of wisdom for the class? Or are you gonna wimp out like Xander here?"
As the other teen bristled, "Wimp. . . I’ll show you who’s a. . ." Mario stepped closer to the teacher and remarked, "Sure, I have a pearl of wisdom. Never let a bully who’s insecure about his own manhood teach a gym class." Then, in a lower voice, he added, "And, don’t you ever mention my wife again."
Overhearing this last statement, Xander’s eyebrows shot up while Nuzzi, his face now a deep crimson, remarked, "You think you’ve got a brass set, don’t you?"
"Actually, sir, I think you’re the one trying to prove that you have a set."
Stepping away, Nuzzi once again addressed the class, stating, "Our new transfer student has volunteered to assist me."
"No, I didn’t."
"Well, I think you did. Step forward."
"You don’t want to do this."
"I think I do. . . and that’s all that counts around here."
With a resigned look, Mario remarked, "OK. . . have it your way."
With the two now facing each other across the gym mat, Nuzzi told Mario to take a swing at him.
"That wouldn’t be a good. . ."
"I said swing, punk!"
Doing as he was instructed, albeit in a half-hearted fashion, Mario quickly found his right arm pinned behind his back, his face planted in the canvas, and a knee in the small of his back. While holding him in this position, Nuzzi decided to continue lecturing.
"Now, if you’re a prettyboy like Mario here, you’d essentially be dead meat with a bayonet in your back."
In response to this last statement, Xander couldn’t help but think, "Ironically, this stuff might actually come in handy in Sunnydale."
"Does anyone think they know how to break this hold?"
However, before anyone could respond, Mario, in a muffled voice, asked, "How about this?" before quickly reaching up, taking hold of the back of Nuzzi’s neck, and flinging him over his shoulder. As the large man landed flat on his back, the sound of laughter became audible in the cavernous room.
After Nuzzi slowly got back on his feet, he again approached Mario, remarking, "Lucky move, kid."
"No, it really wasn’t."
"Shut up! Get ready to defend yourself."
As the teacher suddenly rushed him, the teen dropped to one knee and grabbed the man’s right forearm, using his momentum to again flip him, this time onto the floor beyond the edge of the mat. The absolute silence that followed was finally broken by Nuzzi who, from his back, suddenly decided to change the day’s curriculum. In an unsteady voice, he ordered the class to run 20 laps around the gym before getting dressed.
As most of the students ran, several football players lingered around their coach, helping him back up. Xander, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the new guy, who was calmly running without breaking a sweat. After about 15 minutes, most of the class had returned to the adjoining locker rooms and showers. Then things REALLY got weird.
Mario, wearing a towel, had his back to the room. Therefore, he didn’t notice the three guys standing behind him until one of them grabbed him by the shoulders while another seized a fistful of long black hair and pushed his face against the locker. This not only opened a long gash on the teen’s forehead, but also revealed a previously hidden tattoo on his neck. It was at this point that Larry made his move, asking, "You think you can embarrass the coach like that and get away with it?"For emphasis, he followed up with a kidney punch to Mario’s exposed back.
Grunting from the impact, the teen struggled to turn his head, remarking, "Actually, I think your coach is a pretty big embarrassment on his own." This statement was greeted with another blow to the back.
"We don’t like your kind around here. Damn big city scum."
Realizing the new guy was seriously outnumbered, Xander -- standing at a locker two rows over -- had started toward the group when Mario suddenly lashed out, grabbing one attacker’s wrist while simultaneously slamming his elbow into the other’s gut. Then, as an sickening crack rang out, Mario released the first boy’s arm, allowing him to drop to his knees, screaming, "He broke my wrist!"
Hearing this, Larry quickly reached into his locker, withdrew a baseball bat, and started to wind up.
"You son of a bitch! I’ll show you."
Seeing this, Xander yelled, "Hey man, look out!"
Turning in response to the warning, Mario was confronted by a dark shape heading for his skull. Meanwhile, Xander, realizing that he wasn’t going to reach Larry in time to prevent additional carnage, if not an outright homicide, couldn’t help but flinch at the moment of impact. . . which, miraculously, never came. Instead, Mario had somehow managed to bring a hand up, catch the barrel of the bat, and stop it in mid swing. In another second, he had disarmed the 200-pound linebacker before lifting him several inches off the floor with his free arm. With other students now looking on in disbelief, Xander finally managed to come up alongside. Unfortunately, so did Mr. Nuzzi.
"Just what in the living hell is going on here? Put him down!"
Once back on his feet, Larry started blubbering, "That bastard tried to kill me, coach. Just look what he did to Steve and Gary."
"He’s a damn liar," Xander offered.
"Hey, Harris, who asked you?"
Now silent, but still annoyed, Xander looked at Mario who seemed remarkably serene considering the circumstances. After a moment, he calmly stated, "I was getting dressed when they attacked me. Therefore, I defended myself."
"He’s nuts, coach! He tried to hit us with that bat."
"Whattya say to that?"
"I took the bat from him after he tried to use it on me. Once again, I simply defended myself."
After turning from Mario, to Larry, and then back to Mario, Nuzzi remarked, "Since you’re the one holding the bat, you’re the one getting busted. Report after school for detention." With a smile, he quickly added, "That’s pretty good work on your second day here, sport." He then told Larry to take his cohorts to the nurse’s office.
With the locker room once again quiet, Xander asked the other teen, "So, how’s your head?"
"It’s fine, thanks. Not a very friendly school, is it?"
"Yeah, well, that’s Sunnydale High. But from where I was standing, it didn’t look like you needed any help."
"Grew up in a rough neighborhood."
"Yeah, it must’ve been. By the way, nice ‘too on your neck there. What is it?"
While pulling a shirt over the intricately detailed flesh, Mario replied, "Oh, nothing special."
"Kinda looks like a pitchfork."
"Actually, it’s a trident."
"Oh. . . sure. I knew that."
Now focusing on the teen’s bloody forehead, Xander grabbed a towel and dabbed at the blood on his temple.
"I said, I’m fine!"
"Yeah, well they really slammed you in the coconut. Maybe you should have the nurse look at it."While saying this, Xander lifted the cloth from the wound. To his astonishment, there was no sign of a break, let alone a gash, in the skin. Doing a double take, Xander exhaled, "That’s impossible."
While taking hold of the towel, Mario stated, "No, it’s not."Then, looking deeply into the Immortal’s eyes, he added, "But you already knew that, didn’t you Xander Harris?"
At this remark, Xander’s jaw dropped.
*********************************************************************
Joe’s Place
Seacouver, California
2:25 P. M.
"Hey, Joe. What’s up? I got your message on my machine."
Looking up at the sound of Richie Ryan’s voice, Joe Dawson stopped dusting the multitude of mugs and other assorted glassware behind the deserted bar and started to move around front. This effort was hampered by two prosthetic legs. . . souvenirs from a landmine explosion in Vietnam.
"I left that message last night. What took you so long?"
"I wasn’t home. There’s this new girl working at the supermarket and. . ."
"Yeah. . . yeah. . . I get the picture. Anyhow, the reason I called is about Xander."
Losing his smile, Ryan hesitated a beat before asking, "What about Xander? He’s OK, isn’t he?"
"As far as I know, yes. It’s just that he ran into someone last night."
"Someone like who?"
"Guy by the name of Josh Whelon. Pretty young. . . at least by Immortal standards."
"Is he a headhunter?"
"Unfortunately, yes. He was handy with a sword even before dying the first time at Gettysburg. Ever since, he’s challenged and defeated approximately 75 other Immortals. . . at least until he ditched his Watcher five years ago."
"Whoa. . . whoa. . . if Whelon doesn’t have a Watcher, how do you know he met Xander?"
However, before Dawson could respond, Ryan answered his own question.
"You have someone following Xander, don’t you?"
After some hesitation, the Watcher replied, "Yes."
"You told the Watchers that Xander’s Immortal? Just great." Frustrated, he added, "Joe, you knew how I felt about this. MacLeod doesn’t like being followed, I don’t like being followed, and I didn’t want Xander tailed."
Running a hand through his predominately white beard, Dawson responded, "Hey, I don’t make the rules, Richie. I couldn’t keep the news about Xander quiet forever."
"OK, Joe, fine. . . what’s done is done. At least now I know what’s going on. Did Xander and Whelon fight?"
"No, but Whelon did issue a challenge.
"Where and when?"
"Richie, you know I can’t tell you that. The Watchers don’t interfere."
"Joe, listen to what I’m saying, Xander’s not ready to fight and I won’t stand by and watch him get slaughtered."
Sitting down heavily at a table, the older man stated, "I know exactly what you’re saying, Richie. . . and I also know you. I can’t get involved in this. . . not again. I’ve probably told you too much already."
Now angry, Ryan spat, "Nice timing, Joe. Nice time to start following your Watcher oath." Turning toward the door, the Immortal viciously kicked a chair out of the way, shouting, "And this time, it might just get Xander killed!"
Moments after the door had slammed shut behind the Immortal, Dawson heard a motorcycle roar off. For several minutes, he simply sat there replaying the conversation in his head. Muttering, "Damn," he then got to his feet, threw the wet dishtowel down, and called to his assistant in the back room, "hey, Mike, take care of the place. I’ll be gone for awhile."
"Be careful out there, Joe."
"Yeah sure. . . careful. . . right."
*********************************************************************
Interstate 880
Between San Francisco and
Sunnydale
2:44 P. M.
Two very different vehicles: One a late model Taurus, the other a Ford Explorer, were rapidly heading south toward Sunnydale. However, inside, similar conversations were taking place.
"You did what, Derek?"
"I ran a background check on Agents Mulder and Scully?"
"Can I ask why?"
"You know perfectly well, Nick. Although they’re law enforcement officers, they’re still outsiders. The Legacy must guard its secrets."
"It’s because I like Dana, isn’t it?"
"Please, don’t flatter yourself, Nick. Although now that you mention it, I don’t believe you’re being as objective as usual on this case."
"That’s bullshit."
"Is it? Or are you simply willing to overlook last night’s security breach?"
"Hey, Derek, we have no evidence to tie that to them."
"No? How many hackers from the Washington, DC area have ever tried to break into our files. And how many other federal agents have devoted their careers to investigating paranormal and supernatural phenomena?"
"It could just be a coincidence."
"I don’t believe in coincidences," Derek replied before pointedly adding, "and neither should you."
[Meanwhile, in a sedan following about 200 feet behind. ]
"You did what, Mulder?"
"I asked the Lone Gunmen to do some checking on our boys up there."
"They hacked into their computer system, didn’t they? That was the call Nick got last night."
"Hacked may be too strong a word, Scully."
"You used my da. . . dinner with Nick as an opportunity to infiltrate their files."
"I knew it! It was a date!"
"That’s none of your business, Mulder. And stop trying to change the subject. Skinner wants us to work with these people, not spy on them. . . remember?"
"You don’t get it, do you? I don’t trust Derek Rayne, Nick Boyle, or the Luna Foundation. If you ask me, it’s probably some kind of elaborate front for a smuggling operation. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re somehow involved in the deaths we’re investigating. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone who’s supposed to be helping ends up betraying us. Or don’t you remember Alex Krycek?"
"Not everyone’s like Ratboy, Mulder. Sometimes. . . just sometimes. . . you’ve got to trust people."
"You’re wrong, Scully. Trust no one. . . that’s what I say."
Turning her head to the side, she noticed a blur speed past the window. Grabbing the dashboard, she shouted, "LOOK OUT, MULDER!" Swerving to avoid a speeding motorcycle, he nearly lost control of the car.
"Son of a bitch. . . that guy’s nuts! We could’ve killed him. . . or worse, he could’ve killed us!"
Up ahead, Nick was also distracted by the speeding bike -- but for a very different reason. Derek didn’t fail to notice his driver keenly tracking the rapidly approaching Yamaha, first through the rear-view mirror and then as it pulled up alongside. Lifting the visor of his helmet, the biker allowed them to see his face before quickly pulling away.
"Was that who I think it was?"
"Yep."
"I wonder why he’s in such a hurry?"
"I’ll give you three guesses, Derek."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
3:00 P. M.
"Welcome to detention. Please remember that this experience should not be looked upon as punishment, but rather as an opportunity to culturally enrich yourself through reading," intoned Rupert Giles to a group of less than enthusiastic students. As luck would have it, Buffy, Xander, and Cordelia were among the select few present.
"Giles likes to host detention. Then he can count the detainees as actually having used the library."
"Miss Summers, do you have something to share with the group?"
"No, Gil. . . ah. . . Mr. Giles."
"Very well. Then for the next two hours, you may meander through the stacks. Please feel free to check out any items that interest you. . . unless, of course, they happen to be located in one of the fenced enclosures around the periphery of the library. Those items are. . . reserved. . . yes, that’s it. . . they’re reserved for faculty members."
"And Slayers," whispered Xander.
"Mr. Harris, did you say something?"
"Me? Nope."
"Very well. Then everyone please go about your business. If you have any questions, I or Miss Rosenberg will be more than happy to assist you."
"Hey, Buff. Why are you here?"
"Snyder accused me of blowing up the school’s boiler room last week. . . that no good, pointed-headed troll."
"But, Buff, you DID blow up the boiler room."
"Well, he couldn’t PROVE it was me. And anyhow, it did have a demon in it at the time." After a pause, she then remarked, "But enough about why I’m here. Why are you and Cordy here?"
"Snyder kinda found us the other day."
"Found you doing what?"
"None of your business," Cordelia flared. "Xander, if you tell her -- Immortal or not -- you won’t live to regret it."
"Could you say that just a little louder, Cordy? I don’t think they heard you in Cleveland."
Now looking around the room, Xander’s sometime girlfriend asked, "So what’s Willow doing over there with Giles? She doesn’t have detention too, does she?"
"Willow and detention are two words that will never occupy the same sentence," Buffy replied.
"So why IS she here then?"
"She’s getting the lowdown on a fallen angel who showed up in town last night. As usual, Giles got all freaky and put her to work."
"Typical. So any luck?"
"Other than we think there’s a pending Apocalypse. . . nothing solid," Xander concluded.
"Apocalypse? Just great! I have a hair appointment tomorrow. Do you think I should cancel?"
As Xander rolled his eyes, the Slayer rose and remarked, "Although I’d love to talk about Cordy’s ultimate bad hair day, if you two will excuse me I’ve gotta use the little girl’s room. Be back in a few." As Buffy exited the library, Giles continued to pull paranormal reference material from the stacks.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Turning toward the questioner, who was now wearing a tank top and sweat pants, he replied, "Yes, young man?"
"I was wondering if you have any books on pregnancy and child care?"
"Yes, they should be over in the personal health section. I assume you need them for a class?"
"No, sir. My wife’s due to deliver soon and I thought I’d read up on the subject."
Despite his best efforts, Giles’ facial expression changed before he remarked somewhat lamely, "Oh. . . oh I see."
"Hey, who’s the guy talking to Giles?"
"Why, Cordy? I’m not enough man for you?"
"Will you please get over yourself, Xander. I thought Buffy might be interested in him, assuming that she and Angel really are old news. . . so to speak. And anyhow, even if I was interested, we’re not going steady or anything."
"And I love you too, Cordy," he remarked sarcastically. "Therefore, I’m REALLY pleased to tell you that his name is Mario, he’s in my gym class, and he’s. . ."
"Oh, God. . . he’s gay. I knew it. All the good looking ones are gay. Why is that, Xander?"
"Actually, I was going to say married." Then, after digesting what Cordelia had said, he added, "Hey, what am I, the Hunchback?"
"MARRIED. . . that’s even worse!" the oblivious young women exclaimed.
"Yep. Overhead him tell Coach Nuzzi."
"What a waste of male flesh," cooed Cordelia.
"HELLO. . . Cordy? I’m getting seriously insecure here. Sometimes I think if anything happens to me, you’d get right over it."
Still oblivious to Xander’s suddenly grim expression, she then asked, "Why would anyone ever get married in high school?" However, before he could respond, she quickly answered her own question, remarking, "I’m thinking the big ‘P’ word here."
"Passion?" asked Xander.
"HELLO, try pregnant."
Meanwhile, back at the main desk, Willow and the librarian were engrossed in ‘The Book of Shadows. ’
"Giles, according to this, angels are readily identifiable by symbols branded onto their necks. . . like tattoos. They also have crystalline fingernails."
"Please let me see that."
After quickly scanning the relevant information, he added, "It says here that they were branded at the time of their creation and that the symbol is representative of their inherent nature and primary purpose."
"Excuse me again, sir. May I check these out?"
Somewhat annoyed, Giles stated, "Yes. . . yes, just a moment." Then, without lifting his face from the thick text, he remarked, "Willow, this is very good. Now see if you can find anything. . ."
[Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap]
Eventually becoming aware of the tapping, Giles also took note of the digits strumming on the countertop -- fingers tipped by glass-like nails. Staring up over the rim of his glasses, he also spied a Sunnydale High School gym top partially covering an intricate tattoo. He reacted by kicking Willow under the desk.
"OW! Giles that was my leg."
"Willow, why don’t you help the nice young man here. I’m sure he’s very busy and would like to QUICKLY leave the crowded library."
"It’s really no rush, sir."
Finally looking at the person standing on the other side of the desk, the girl did a double take. "Oh. . . OH MY!" Quickly taking his books and student ID, she stuttered, "Just give me those and you’ll. . . I mean. . . I’ll stamp them out." After handing the books back -- about two seconds later -- she added, "That’s all. You can go now. . . PLEASE!"
Somewhat puzzled, Mario asked, "Doesn’t detention end at 4 o’clock?"
To this, Giles instantly answered, "Well, there’s no point standing on protocol. I’m sure nobody will mind if you leave a bit early."
Still puzzled, the boy replied, "Thanks. . . I guess," before exiting the library.
As the library doors closed behind him, Willow exclaimed, "Giles, he must be the guy!"
"It’s worse than I feared. Semyaza’s obviously challenging us by coming here. Did you get a good look at his neck?"
"Yeah, it looked like a trident."
"My thought exactly. Try to find it in the book."
A few minutes later, the girl’s downcast expression said it all. "Sorry, Giles. There’s nothing here on that symbol. Maybe I can find something online." She then noticed a small piece of plastic peeking out from under the keyboard.
"Look, Giles. I forgot to give back his ID card."
Quickly taking hold of the thin wafer which included a photo, the Watcher read the name aloud, "Mario Seraphim. Humm. . . Seraphim. . . of course! At least he has some wit."
"What do you mean, Giles?"
"A seraphim is a type of angel. Quite high in the angelic hierarchy if I’m not mistaken."
"You mean they actually have a chain of command? ’
"Oh yes, Willow. Not all angels are created equal. There are many orders and ranks."
As he was saying this, the library doors swung open and two people entered.
"Hey, guys. . . look who I found outside."
As Xander’s head quickly swiveled around the room, Giles stated, "Hello, Richie." Then, turning toward Buffy, he asked, "Was I not clear that detention took place INSIDE the library?"
"Sorry, Giles. Nature called."
"Oh. . . oh, I see. Very well then. Carry on."
"Yes sir," she responded before snapping him a mock salute and heading back to her table.
Visibly miffed, Giles once again turned to the young Immortal.
"So what brings you here today, Richie?"
Pointing toward a nearby table, he stated simply, "Him."
"Xander’s in detention. He can’t leave until 4 o’clock."
"I need to talk to him."
"Can’t you talk to him here?"
As Ryan continued to stare at the Watcher without saying another word, Giles quickly got the message, mumbling, "I guess not. . . impatient Yanks." Turning, he reluctantly called Xander over to the desk.
"Hey, Rich. What’s up?"
"We’ve gotta talk."
"OK, so talk."
"Outside."
"Outside?"
"Outside."
As the two were leaving the library, Buffy remarked to Cordelia, "I wonder what that’s all about? Richie really looked pissed."
Filing her nails with an emery board, the cheerleader replied, "Probably just hanging around MacLeod too long. That man always looks grumpy."
*********************************************************************
3:10 P. M.
"Are you freakin’ nuts, Xander?"
"What?"
"What! I’ll tell you what -- Josh Whelon -- ring a bell?
"Who?"
Not known for his patience, Ryan underscored this fact by shoving the teen against a wall.
"Hey. . . calm down, Richie!"
"Now, let’s try this again. Were you challenged last night?"
"How’d you find out?"
"OK, I’ll take that as a ‘yes. ’
With a sudden revelation, Xander blurted, "Dawson has one of his people following me, doesn’t he? Or did you put him up to it?"
"How I found out isn’t important, Xander. The main thing is that you’re not ready to fight."
"That’s bullshit. I’m ready! I'll kick this Whedon guy’s. . ."
"Whelon."
"Yeah, whatever. Point is, I’m gonna kick his Immortal ass outta Sunnydale."
Looking grim, Ryan responded bluntly, "He’ll kill you, Xander."
"Gee, bud ‘o mine, thanks for the major vote of confidence."
In an effort to relieve his own mounting tension, the older Immortal clasped both hands behind his neck and stretched, before stating, "Xander, I’m not trying to screw with your head here. And I do know how you feel. Not that long ago, I was right where you are now."
"That’s my point, Richie. You didn’t get whacked your first time."
"Yeah, thanks to MacLeod."
"What do you mean?"
"OK. . . here’s the deal. . . one day, about five years ago, MacLeod and I busted up an assassination attempt on this big shot ambassador. But, being a macho jerk, I ended up killing one of the assassins."
"And he was Immortal?"
"No, but his wife, a terrorist by the name of Annie Devlon, was. And she swore vengeance on me."
"So you killed her?"
"Actually, MacLeod tried to arrange a truce. . ."
"So you wimped out and ran?"
"Hey, can I finish here?"
"Sorry."
"Anyway, MacLeod knew Annie -- really knew her, if you get my drift -- from waaay back. But, no matter how he tried to reason with her, she wouldn’t back down. . ."
"So MacLeod killed her?"
"XANDER!"
"A thousand pardons, master, go on."
"Hey, don’t get wise! Now where was I? Oh yeah. . . so MacLeod reluctantly taught me how to counter her fighting style."
"Isn’t that cheating?"
"No, Xander, it’s called helping a friend stay alive. And MacLeod hated choosing between me and her."
"So you did kill her."
"No, Xander. I COULD have killed her. But, out of respect for MacLeod, I didn’t."
"Oh."
"The point of my story is that if you don’t have to fight. . . DON'T! Some Immortals deliberately hunt younger Immortals to take their heads. It’s actually pretty common."
"So what are you saying?"
"Lay low and this guy will get fed up and leave town. They always do."
"I can’t do that. I’m no coward, Richie. What have I been training for anyhow?"
"Coward? Xander, haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? This has nothing to do with bravery. This is called not ending up dead -- plain and simple."
"I’m not gonna run away."
Now pacing back and forth, Ryan tried to come up with another course of action.
"OK. . . when are you supposed to meet him?"
"I’m not telling. You’d probably just KO me and go fight him yourself."
"No, Xander. I just want to talk to him. Maybe we’ll be able to avoid trouble altogether."
"Fat chance. This guy doesn’t seem like the talking type."
"No? So how did you get away from him the first time? Why didn’t he just whack you?"
Already sweating, the teen started stammering, "Well. . . ahh. . . he. . . ahh didn’t want to kill ahh. . . an unarmed guy."
"UNARMED! YOU!" Richie screamed before kicking a locker. "Of all the stupid, moronic, bone-headed. . ."
"Hey, so I screwed up. . . so kill me."
"IT ALMOST DID, XANDER!"
In a small voice, he replied, "I know."
"How many times have I told you, ‘Xander, always keep your sword with you’?"
"I know."
Calming down, Ryan now shifted back into mentor mode, stating, "OK, now listen up -- and listen up good -- this is how we’re gonna handle this."
*********************************************************************
Mancini Residence
3:40 P. M.
[Buzz] [Buzz] [Buzz] [Buzz]
"Hello. Is anybody home?"
"Just a minute, I’m coming." After a few seconds, an old woman opened the door, asking, "Yes, can I help you young people?"
"Mrs. Mancini?"
"Yes?"
"We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, ma’am. This is my partner, Dana Scully, and two of our. . . associates."
As the gray-haired woman examined Mulder’s badge, she cautiously asked, "Is there some kind of problem?"
"Actually, we hope you can help us," Derek replied as Mulder shot him an annoyed glance, "is your granddaughter or her husband home?"
"Marie’s upstairs resting. She didn’t feel very well and came home from school early. Poor thing’s expecting you know."
"Could we see her?"
"May I ask what this is all about?"
"We’re investigating an. . . incident. . . that took place up north a few nights ago," Scully hedged. "We’re hoping that your granddaughter might be able to assist us."
The old woman tentatively allowed the four strangers into the house.
"May I ask what kind of incident?"
With the usual charm and grace of a federal agent, Mulder replied bluntly, "A double murder at a roadside motel." As both Derek and Scully flinched, Nick just shook his head in amazement.
With a gasp, the woman exclaimed, "Oh dear, how horrible!" Rapidly becoming suspicious, she then stated, "I don’t think Marie would know anything about that."
"Could you ask her to join us, ma’am. We’d like to ask her a few questions."
As the woman headed upstairs to fetch Marie, Nick remarked to Mulder, "About as subtle as a brain hemorrhage, aren’t you?"
"Hey, if you don’t like my techniques, leave."
"Ouch! A little touchy there, Mulder?"
"OK, let’s just remain calm, gentlemen," Derek interjected.
"I am calm," both men responded simultaneously. This caused Scully to roll her eyes toward the ceiling. Coming up alongside Mulder, she whispered, "Let me talk to the girl first."
"What, you don’t think I’m tactful enough either, Scully?"
"I didn’t say that, Mulder. I just think she may be more comfortable answering questions from a woman." Hearing footsteps, she turned toward the staircase while an obviously pregnant girl cautiously made her way down.
"This is my granddaughter, Marie."
"Hello, Marie," greeted Scully. "My name’s Dana. This is my partner, Agent Mulder. We’d like to ask you some questions."
After sitting on the couch with her grandmother, she replied, "OK."
"You and your husband stayed at a motel in Oakland a few nights ago. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"While you were there, did anything unusual occur?"
Now squeezing her grandmother’s hand, she paused before answering.
"Yes, a man broke into our room."
"Oh, dear! Why didn’t you tell me about this?"
"Sorry, grandma. We were scared and ran."
"Marie," the agent continued, "did you know the man who broke into your room?"
"No."
"Did your husband, know him?"
After a slight hesitation, which all four trained observers in the room noticed, the girl once again answered, "No."
"Are you absolutely sure?" Derek probed.
"Yes. . . I mean, no, Mario didn’t know him either."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Yes."
"How did he threaten you?"
"He said he’d kill me."
"Did your husband and the man fight?"
With tears welling up in her eyes, she again replied, "Yes."
"Did Mario kill the man?"
"He said he was going to kill me."
Scully then repeated, "Did Mario kill the man, Marie?"
After a long pause, she replied, "I think so."
"You think so?" asked Mulder. "Weren’t you there?"
"They. . . fell. . . out the window. I couldn’t see. I was still up on the balcony."
"So you’re saying it was self defense?"
"Yes."
Unconvinced, Mulder then asked, "So why did Mario set the man’s body on fire?"
Knowing this accusation to be totally unsubstantiated caused Scully, Derek and Nick to all stare in his direction. Mulder simply ignored their glances.
"Oh, dear God!" the grandmother exclaimed.
Now sobbing, the girl replied, "Mario would never do anything like that."
"But, Ms. Seraphim you just said that you couldn’t see very well from your vantage point. How can you be so sure?"
"Because Mario wouldn’t do that!"
Unfazed, Mulder continued, "How well do you know your husband?"
Now getting angry, the girl wiped away a tear before snapping back, "Well enough to marry him, Agent Mulder."
"Where did you meet?"
"In school, back in Oakland."
"How long ago?"
"About eight months."
"Where’s he from originally?"
"Somewhere back east," she lied.
"Actually, there’s no record of a Mario Seraphim -- if that’s his real name -- being born ANYWHERE in the United States."
"We love each other!"
"MULDER!" Scully cautioned.
"Are all these questions really necessary?" asked the grandmother. "You’re upsetting Marie. . . in her condition. . ."
As an obviously annoyed Scully looked on, her partner stated, "We’re just trying to determine the truth, Mrs. Mancini. I think we’ll have to ask your granddaughter to come with us for additional questioning."
"Come with you? Why? She’s answered all your questions."
"I’m afraid we have more questions for her."
*********************************************************************
4:23 P. M.
A few minutes later, while walking down the street with several library books tucked under his arm, Mario saw four strangers, three men and a woman, leading Marie toward a nondescript car. Needless to say, he was not pleased. Dropping the books, he immediately broke into a dead run, covering a city block in only a few seconds. Before anyone saw him approaching, he was on top of them.
"Let her go!"
"MARIO!"
Mulder, Nick, and Derek immediately grabbed the young man, attempting to hold his arms while the agent struggled to reach his handcuffs. Unable to force him down to his knees, they managed to push his chest up against a large tree.
"Who are you people?"
"Federal agents," responded the lanky brown-haired man. "Are you Mario Seraphim?"
Ignoring the question, he instead asked, "Where are you taking Marie?"
While tightening the cuffs around the boy’s wrists, Mulder replied, "Downtown for questioning. And we have some questions for you too."
"Let her go, she’s innocent."
"Sorry, buddy, we can’t do that," answered Nick.
"I’m responsible for her safety. Please let her go."
"She’ll be safe with us, Mr. Seraphim. . . as will you," offered Derek.
After a few moments of silence, the young man calmly stated, "I’m sorry, but I can’t let you take her," before snapping the hardened steel chain linking the handcuffs. His arms now free, he proceeded to slip the grasp of the three men.
Having been placed in the back of the car by Scully, Marie saw the scuffle and called out, "Mario, don’t hurt them!"
However, the teen successfully continued to fend off the men, easily flipping Mulder onto his back with one arm while tossing Nick onto the hood of the Explorer with the other. Derek, meanwhile, was desperately grasping the back of the teen’s shoulders -- and was nearly knocked out by a tidalwave of images flooding his mind -- glimpses of unearthly battlefields with scorched bodies strewn everywhere. Most unusual of all was that many of the fallen seemed to have immense wings attached to their backs. He also caught sight of a being resembling Mario Seraphim standing amidst the carnage with finely feathered appendages wrapped protectively around his bruised torso. The creature was also holding a large, bloody golden trident. This was the last image Derek saw before grabbing his head and crumpling to the ground.
Seeing his friend collapse, Nick immediately went to his aid while Mulder and Scully drew their guns, training them on the uncontrollable teen.
"OK. . . that’s it. . . you’ve had your fun! Now get your hands up!" instructed Mulder from his knees.
"I can’t let you take her."
"Hey, we’re warning you! Get those hands up or we’ll open fire!"
Her shouts now muffled from within the sealed car, Marie continued to plead, "Mario, stop! Please don’t hurt anyone!"
Glancing toward Scully, the boy then noticed a small gold cross suspended from a thin chain around her neck. As a look of hesitation flickered across his face, he slowly raised his hands and allowed himself to be arrested.
After reading him his rights, Mulder placed Mario -- now bound with two sets of handcuffs -- into the car next to Marie. Nearby, Nick observed the proceedings with Derek who was back on his feet.
"Damn, that kid must be seriously juiced on crack or angel dust."
As a humorous thought passed through his mind, the Legacy Precept remarked, "I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Nick."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Police Headquarters
5:10 P. M.
"Look at this place, Scully. I expect Andy Taylor and Barney Fife to walk in here any second."
While glancing around the squad room, she replied, "It’s a small town, Mulder. They probably don’t have much need, not to mention budget, for the latest equipment."
"No, Scully. There, you’re wrong. I did some checking before we came here today. Did you know that Sunnydale has the highest incidence of unexplained deaths in the state of California? In fact, per capita, it may actually lead the nation in homicides."
"C’mon, Mulder, here? It seems like such a quiet, picturesque community. If what you say is true, I’m sure we would have heard about it before now. Maybe your information’s wrong."
"That’s just it, Scully. The Bureau doesn’t have anything on Sunnydale. I got my info from non-official sources. It’s almost as if there’s a concerted effort to deliberately keep this place off the law enforcement radar screen."
With a cynical expression on her face, his partner retorted, "What are you saying, Mulder? That some nameless, faceless conspiracy is at work here? Please, we’ve crossed that bridge before."
"You said it, Scully. Not me. But let’s just consider what else I’ve found out about this ‘burb. Last year alone, the entire high school swim team drowned at the beach and, freakishly enough, during lunch at the same school, swarms of snakes mysteriously appeared from nowhere. I won’t even mention the gang of drug addicts who killed several faculty members; the virgin-sacrificing cult arrested at the local college; the natural gas leaks that leveled a factory, a curio store, and a church; the terrorist attack with a rocket launcher at the mall; or the ten recent earthquakes centered here."
Her mouth hanging open, it took Scully a few seconds to respond. "The Lone Gunmen told you all this stuff, didn’t they?"
"I don’t see. . ."
"Mulder, won’t you at least accept the possibility that you may have gotten bad information."
Now getting annoyed, the lanky agent replied, "OK, fine. Let’s just say that all the stuff I just told you wasn’t true. Then how do you explain the reaction we got when we brought those two in for questioning? The Sunnydale PD makes the NYPD look downright friendly."
"Granted, the desk sergeant did look a bit annoyed."
"ANNOYED? Scully, I thought we were going to end up in adjoining cells with the happy couple."
Seeing this as an opportunity to change the subject, the woman remarked, "And speaking of them, why did you lean so hard. . . especially on the girl?"
"Because I suspect they know something they’re not telling us, especially the husband. For some reason, they left Oakland before the police could question them. They’re probably also material witnesses to the homicide of the motel clerk. You do remember him, don’t you Scully, middle-aged father of three?"
"You don’t have to remind me, Mulder. I just thought you were unusually rough on her, that’s all. She seems like a mixed up kid with some major issues in her life."
"Major issues? You mean like having a mad-dog killer for a husband? How’d you like how she kept telling him not to hurt us? Not exactly something an innocent person would need to be told. And did you get a look at his tattoo on his neck, Scully? Probably a gang mark."
"Fine. We probably have enough to hold him. . . at least until we can make a positive ID and check for priors. But we’ll have to cut her loose tonight. We just don’t have anything to prove that she’s anything more than a victim or possibly a witness who got scared and ran."
After reluctantly agreeing with Scully’s assessment, Mulder asked, "So where did loverboy tell you he was going with Dr. Doolittle?"
After consciously counted to three in an effort to control her temper, Scully stated, "Assuming that you’re referring to Nick and Dr. Rayne, they went to eat and will rejoin us later."
"Ooh, I can hardly wait."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
5:25 P. M.
"Hello? Is anybody home?"
Looking up from a volume of ‘Jane’s Demonic Anthology,’ Giles spied a pair of faces -- one belonging to an old friend -- that he hadn’t seen in several months.
"Derek! What brings you back to Sunnydale?"
After shaking hands with his Oxford classmate, he turned to Nick.
"Hi, Giles, how’s it hangin’?"
"Hanging? Oh yes, another one of your Yank expressions. I’m fine, Mr. Boyle. Thank you for asking." Then, focusing back on Derek, the Watcher inquired, "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, thank you, Rupert. Very much so."
While fetching his ever-ready tea service, he heard Nick call after him, "You wouldn’t happen to have any java, would you, Giles?"
"No, but there may be some Taster’s Choice around here somewhere."
"Never mind, Giles. It’s no big deal."
Returning with a sterling silver tray, the librarian poured out three cups.
"So, Derek, what brings you here. . . business or pleasure?"
"Business, I’m afraid."
"What exactly?"
"I wish I could tell you, Rupert, but I’m not sure myself. I was wondering if we could use your computer set up?"
"Oh, certainly. Willow just stepped out. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind."
Responding, "Thanks," Derek retrieved a cellular phone >from his jacket and started dialing the Legacy house on a secure line. Nick, meanwhile, had gone behind the desk to use the PC’s modem connection.
"Hello, Alex? Yes, we’re fine. The case is just taking a little longer than expected. We need you to do some checking for us. Nick’s E-mailing the information to you now. Basically, we need to know whatever you can learn about a teen by the name of Mario Seraphim."
Across the room, Giles quickly looked up from the book he was scanning, "Excuse me? Did you just say Mario Seraphim?"
"Hold on, Alex." Turning, Derek asked, "Yes, Rupert, why?"
Easing the student ID from the breast pocket of his tweed jacket, the librarian held it up and stated, "Because I think we’d better talk."
Derek and Nick stared first at Giles and then at each other.
"Alex, I’ll call you right back." After hanging up, Derek remarked, "What did I tell you, Nick? Nothing’s ever simple in this town."
Slowly shaking his head in agreement, the Watcher remarked, "I’m afraid not."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Police Headquarters
5:56 P. M.
"What really happened at that motel back in Oakland?"
Chained to an unpadded, straight-backed metal chair in the center of the interrogation room, Mario replied, "What would you like to know?"
"Well, for starters, did you know the guy you killed?"
"I met him trying to strangle in my wife. Does that count?"
"Don’t wise off with me, kid," spat Mulder, "I mean before that."
Raising his head to look directly at the agent, Mario then lied. . . sort of, anyhow, by replying, "No. Never saw him before in my life."
Entering the room with two Dixie cups of black coffee, Scully handed one to her partner before asking, "Mario, do you know why the perpetrator would choose your room? After killing the desk clerk, it would have made more sense for him to empty the cash register or the office safe."
"I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?"
Placing his face close to the boy’s, Mulder growled, "Because he’s a crispy critter in the morgue. You claim you killed him in self-defense. If that’s true, why did you burn his body?"
"I didn’t burn his body."
"Oh, what do you expect us to believe? That he spontaneously combusted?"
"You said it, not me."
"Now listen up, Mario. You’d better start filling in some of the puzzle here. . . and fast. So far, we have two dead bodies and one suspect. . . YOU!"
Turning toward Scully, the teen asked, "Since when did it become a crime to defend your wife and unborn child against a psycho?"
"We’re just trying to understand exactly what transpired that night, Mr. Seraphim. Please try to look at it from our point of view -- you may be telling us the truth, or YOU may be responsible for the death of the motel clerk and the second unidentified man when HE tried to intervene."
"I’ve answered all your questions, Agent Scully. What more can I tell you?"
Flipping open a manila folder, her partner then pulled out a notepad, remarking, "For starters, how about where you’re originally from?"
"Back east."
"Could you be just a BIT more specific."
"Queens. . . in New York City."
"OK. . . what year were you born?"
"1982."
"What are your parents’ names?"
"Ann and Mario."
Quickly scanning the contents of the school’s enrollment files, Mulder then asked, "Where’s your father now?"
"Dead."
"What about your mother?"
"Ditto. But I’m sure you already knew that."
"What did your father do for a living?"
While glancing around the room, Mario answered, "Odd jobs around the neighborhood."
"Such as?"
"He helped out people in trouble."
"Sounds like a real good Samaritan type."
Again looking directly at Mulder, the boy smirked before replying, "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Did he ever serve in the military?"
"Uh huh."
"When?"
"In Vietnam. They had him doing medical stuff."
"Was he wounded?"
"Yeah. He never liked to talk about it though."
Casting a glance in Scully’s direction, Mulder noticed that one of her eyebrows was now arched and that she was tapping her foot on the grungy tile floor.
"Can I see you outside, Mulder?"
After stepping into the hall, he closed the steel door behind them.
"What’s up, Scully?"
"His answers just blew holes in your major mystery. Obviously the military records you’ve seen are wrong. His father was in Vietnam, not him. And their listing him as missing in action and presumed dead was obviously an error."
"Well, there’s still no record of HIM ever being born in New York City. . . or anywhere else."
"Mulder, are you telling me that you’re seriously considering holding this kid because some bureaucrat can’t find his birth certificate. It happens."
"Something’s still wrong here, Scully. . . I can feel it. He’s not telling us everything."
"So what are you suggesting, Mulder?"
"We can hold him 72 hours without charges until we can verify his story."
"And what happens if we can’t?"
While unlocking the door, Mulder remarked, "Always the optimist, aren’t you, Scully?" Back inside, he once again addressed the teen.
"Well, Mario, it looks like you’re going to be a guest here courtesy of the taxpayers of Sunnydale."
"What do you mean?"
In response, Scully stepped around Mulder, stating, "We need to verify what you’ve told us. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two."
"What about, Marie?"
"Relax, we already sent her home," replied Mulder.
"YOU WHAT?"
As the teen unsuccessfully attempted to rise, Scully stated, "Calm down, Mr. Seraphim. Marie’s back with her grandmother. She’s fine."
Dejectedly slumping back into the chair, he quickly glanced toward Scully and then toward the floor. In the dim light cast by the single hanging lightbulb, the woman thought she noticed a strange shadow manifest itself on the boy’s face. However, she quickly dismissed it as a trick of the lighting.
"No, she’s not. She’s not safe without me."
Latching onto this remark, Mulder prodded from across the room, "You also said that this afternoon. What do you mean, ‘she’s not safe’? Safe from what? Who?"
Realizing that the only way out of the room would be by going through the agents, Mario simply continued to silently stare downward. A few minutes later, unable to elicit another word from him, the agents left the room. Once outside, they decided to compare notes over a quick dinner.
"So where do folks around here go for a burger?" Mulder asked a young deputy in the nearly deserted squad room.
"You can try the place a couple of blocks over. Food’s decent, pretty good music."
"This place got a name?"
"Yeah. . . the Bronze."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
6:20 P. M.
Hanging up the phone, Nick Boyle remarked, "Stop right there, Giles. Are you saying that an honest to God avenging angel is loose around here?"
"Well, yes, but I wouldn’t have expressed it exactly in those terms, Nick."
Interrupting, Derek asked, "Nick, were you able to contact Agents Mulder and Scully?"
"Yeah, Scully said they questioned the kid and were going to get something to eat."
"Some kid," remarked Derek, "but that does explain my visions."
Realizing what had just been said, Giles inquired, "You mean you actually got close enough to read his thoughts? You’re fortunate to be alive, Derek. Semyaza nearly dispatched both Buffy and Faith last night."
"Faith?"
Deciding not to waste time explaining the dual Slayer arrangement, the Watcher sidestepped the issue by remarking, "New girl in town. . . I’ll explain it all later. Now tell me about your visions."
"It didn’t look like any place on earth, Giles. More like one of Dante’s visions of Hell. Broken bodies everywhere. And they weren’t all human."
"It sounds like you may have glimpsed the Apocalypse, Derek. The final battle between good and evil."
"You may be correct, Rupert."
"Sounds like a great place. Remind me not to make reservations there," quipped Nick while typing on the computer keyboard.
After a pause, the Legacy Precept then asked, "But why didn’t Semyaza just kill us when he had the chance. From what you’re saying, even Nick’s Immortality might not have protected him."
At this remark, Nick spoke up again, "Wait, I’m confused here. Giles, are you saying that the name Mario Seraphim is actually an alias for Semi. . . Semi. . ."
"Semyaza," both Giles and Derek chorused.
"Yeah, whatever. So now what do we do?"
"What do you mean, Nick?"
"Giles, a supernatural being is in FBI custody at police headquarters. Won’t it be hard to explain how he. . . it. . . is enrolled as a student at Sunnydale High School?"
"No. . . not necessarily," the librarian replied, "you’d be surprised what’s been enrolled at this school over the years."
"No, Nick’s right, Giles. Legacy policy demands that we settle situations such as this as quickly and discreetly as possible."
"Don’t you think I’ve been trying to come up with a solution, Derek? So far, I haven’t found any documented cases of mortals -- or Immortals, for that matter -- battling an angel and winning."
After a long period of contemplative silence, Derek stated, "I suspect that the answer may lie in discovering why he came here at this time."
"Yes, I suppose that may provide us with some insight."
"Nick, call Alex back and apprise her of our discussions. She might be able to find something useful in the Legacy archives."
"I’m on it, Derek."
*********************************************************************
The Bronze
6:35 P. M.
The Bronze was THE hip place in Sunnydale. In addition to dancing to some of the cooler local bands, it also offered other diversions for its mostly young clientele, including pool, darts, fast food, faster waitresses, and for some, slaying. However, this last activity usually took place after closing or in the alley out back. . . USUALLY. As Oz strummed his guitar behind the lead singer of "Dingoes Ate My Baby," he noticed two seriously out of place adults sitting at a side table. Continuing to strum in rhythm to the music, he couldn’t help but wonder, "What’s up with those two in the trenchcoats?"
"Nice place, isn’t it, Scully?"
Looking around, she leaned toward her partner before replying, "Kinda loud."
"What?"
Raising her voice, she tried again, "I said it’s kinda loud."
"Yeah, well the kids seem to like it."
Surveying the writhing crowd out on the dance floor, not to mention the few couples necking on nearby couches, she couldn’t help but remark, "We never had places like this when I was in high school, Mulder. In fact, I don’t think we even had places like this in college."
While replying, "Oh c’mon, Scully, it looks innocent enough," their meals arrived.
"OK, we have one burger and one house salad."
"The burger’s mine," replied Mulder.
As the girl placed the dished down, he quickly reached for the bottle of ketchup while lifting the bun off.
"Ah, excuse me, miss?"
"Yeah?"
"This burger. . . it’s practically raw."
"Well, that’s the way we make ‘em. Most people around here like their meat rare."
"Rare? The bun’s dripping blood. I think it might still have a pulse."
Chewing her gum even faster, the girl snorted, "That’s pretty funny, mister. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that before."
"Yeah, well anyhow, could you take it back for a couple more minutes. Maybe something a little less rare and a little more well done."
"OK, mister, whatever you say."
While her partner and the waitress were talking, Scully noticed two figures, visible only in silhouette, standing on a catwalk high above the flashing strobe lights. By the way their heads and arms were moving, they were obviously having an animated discussion.
"Nice place you’ve got here, Angel."
"Thanks. It serves my needs."
"I can see that," remarked Cash. "Plenty of hot-blooding young things down there."
"It serves my FINANCIAL needs," the elder vampire clarified with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Remember, behave yourself. The Bronze is NOT a buffet."
"Hey, I’m only kidding, Angelus, that’s not my style."
In an exasperated tone, the taller of the two replied, "And that’s another thing -- I keep telling everyone -- it’s just plain Angel now, NOT Angelus.
After initially remarking, "Sasha tells me. . ." the young Gangrel then corrected himself, remembering the current status of his on again off again relationship with his lover, ". . . or at least she used to tell me that I’m way too serious. But man, you’ve really got this tortured stuff down pat, don’t you?"
"Yeah, well, I guess that’s what happens when you kill -- or try to kill -- everyone you’ve ever loved. I don’t recommend the experience."
"Wait, I’m confused. You ARE Angelus. . . aren’t you? So what’s that like?"
"I AM NOT ANGELUS. . . that sadistic bastard!"
"Hey, easy. Don’t be so touchy." After a pause, the younger vampire asked, "Wanna talk about it?"
"NO!"
With a sudden chill now permeating their conversation, Cash and Angel surveyed the crowd in silence until a familiar face arrived on the scene. Wearing boots and a mini skirt, the object of their attention headed for a table near the dance floor.
"Hey, isn’t that. . . ?"
"Yeah."
"So what’re you waiting for? Get your sorry ass down there."
"I can’t.
"What do you mean, you can’t? More like you won’t."
"This isn’t your business, Cash. Buffy and I are trying to work out some. . . issues. . . I don’t want to crowd her."
"Fine, Angel, you stay here and sulk. But I’m gonna go down and talk to them."
As the smaller Kindred rapidly descended a ladder, Angel could only hiss, "Cash, get back here!" Receiving no response, he muttered, "Damn!"
Meanwhile, near the dance floor, Buffy had joined Willow at a table.
"Oz has his black hair tonight."
"Yeah, what’s up with that? Does he dye it himself?"
"I don’t know. . . we’ve never talked about it. But I kinda like mysterious men."
"You mean howling at the moon every month isn’t mysterious enough for you?"
"Well, yes. . . I guess so. . . but it’s nice to keep things fresh in other areas."
Taking a sip from the other girl’s glass, the Slayer then asked, "So any luck helping Giles find out about this major evil lurking around town?"
"Semyaza?"
"That would be him."
"No, nothing much yet. But, it’s really strange. . ."
"What’s really strange, Will?"
"Well, he actually came to the library this afternoon."
Immediately becoming alert, the Slayer remarked, "This evil angel guy invaded the library. . . and nobody told me? Was anyone hurt?"
"No. That’s the strange thing. He actually seemed polite. It really creeped Giles out."
"Polite? Are we talking about the same guy here -- long blonde hair, fangs, black eyes -- looked like a young version of Sting. Kinda hard not to notice on the street?"
"Blonde hair? But the guy Giles and I saw had black hair."
"Willow, you’ve got the wrong guy."
As the girl nervously began to stammer, "But the tattoo. . ." a figure suddenly appeared beside the table."
"Hi, Willow. Buffy, how are you?"
Looking up, the Slayer responded with some surprise, "Cash? Hi. . . we’re good. So what brings you to our neck of the woods. . . excuse the pun."
"Actually, we were ordered to take a vacation. Julian suggested. . . actually, he insisted. . . that we take it easy this week."
"We? You mean you and. . ."
"Hey. . ."
Quickly turning her head in the other direction, Buffy now saw Angel standing on the other side of the table.
"Hey yourself," she replied. After a prolonged pause, she then asked, "So, how have you been. . . in San Francisco, I mean?"
As Angel answered flatly, "OK," the band finished a set and took a break. With the room now relatively quiet, he flashed an annoyed look at Cash, before adding, "At least by Sunnydale standards." Before anyone could say anything more, they were joined by the guitarist who was eyeing the standing figure with something less than total trust.
"Oz."
"Angel."
As the teen pulled out a vacant chair next to Willow, he noticed an unidentified man standing nearby.
"Oz, this is Cash," his significant other offered.
Extending a hand tipped with polished black nails, the teen remarked, "Oh yeah, Willow’s mentioned you."
"All lies, I’m sure."
As they briefly clasped hands, both men couldn’t help but detect the faint scent of Canis lupus emanating from the other.
"Willow said that you can change into a wolf. . . at will," Oz remarked to the vampire. "Neat trick."
"Comes in handy sometimes."
"That’s debatable."
"Yeah, Angel’s mentioned the curse in your family. Guess it’s pretty tough if you can’t control the change."
"I’d have to agree with you there."
"OK guys, enough ‘Call of the Wild’ talk," remarked Buffy. Then, turning back to Angel, she asked, "So you’re here all week?"
Glancing again at Cash, he replied, almost in a whisper, "Yeah."
"Just get in?"
"Last night."
"You didn’t call."
"It was pretty late."
"Oh."
Willow, Oz and Cash followed the conversation between Slayer and vampire much like spectators at a tennis match track a volley. After a few minutes, however, something else caught Cash’s attention.
"I’ll see you all around. . . later."
"Remember, behave yourself!" called Angel.
Meanwhile, the two federal agents seated nearby were finishing dinner. As Scully drank her coffee, she heard the name ‘Cash’ and casually gazed across the floor.
"Mulder, over there. . . !"
While attempting to pry a stray sesame seed loose with a toothpick, her partner stabbed his tongue. "Ow! Dammit, Scully, don’t do that!"
"Mulder, those two men. I’ve seen them before."
"Who? Where?"
"Over there, the one with those three teenagers and the shorter one heading for the bar."
"OK, you’ve seen them before. So?"
"I saw them last night when I was out with Nick Boyle. They were meeting in a club when I thought I heard shots fired. In fact, one of them. . . the one by the bar. . . is a friend of Nick’s."
"You heard shots fired, Scully? Did you report it to the local PD?"
After some hesitation, she replied, "No," before adding, "I pushed my way into the room."
"You did what? Without back-up? What were you thinking?"
"I know, Mulder. It may not have been by-the-book procedure."
In an exasperated tone, he retorted, "Yeah, you can say that. "Then, after a pause, he asked, "So, when you entered this meeting room, you saw what exactly?"
"Well, that was the strange part, Mulder. Around the table were a group of people who seemed almost TOO calm. . . if you know what I mean. They didn’t seem at all disturbed that a federal agent had entered the room with a drawn weapon. It was almost like they were hiding something."
With Mulder’s mind now in overdrive, he asked almost rhetorically, "And you said that one of them knows Boyle?"
"Yes, the shorter one." Her eyebrow heading skyward, she caught his implication, remarking, "What are you saying, Mulder?"
"Oh, it’s probably nothing."
"Whenever you say ‘nothing,’ Mulder, you actually mean ‘something."
"OK, look at it from my perspective, Scully. What are the chances that you saw these two guys in San Francisco at the start of this case and now they’re here in Sunnydale. To top it all off, one of them knows Boyle."
"It might just be a coincidence."
"Another coincidence? Do you actually believe that, Scully?"
"It’s possible, Mulder."
"Fine, it’s possible. But can we at least follow them and see where they go?"
"I already made a complete fool of myself last night, Mulder. I don’t want to make it twice in two days."
"So, we’ll be discreet."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Police Headquarters
7:50 P. M.
"Hey, prettyboy, I’m talking to you, get up."
Receiving no response from the prone form on the floor, the cop patrolling the holding cells wrapped the bars with his nightstick.
"Hey, you alright in there?"
Still receiving no answer, he nervously started fingering the key ring on his belt while imaging the paperwork a death -- or worse, a suicide -- would generate.
"Shit, why when I’m on duty?"
Quickly unlocking the cell door, he knelt down to check the boy’s pulse. While doing so, a part of his brain resented that his pending promotion to sergeant was being jeopardized by a no-good punk who probably overdosed on something before being arrested. Imagine his surprise that after failing to find a pulse, Mario Seraphim’s eyes opened.
"What in the name of God?"
After responding, "Not exactly, but close," the teen grasped both sides of the man’s head in an iron grip. Making eye contact with the struggling cop, he stated, "Sorry, but I need your keys. Now go to sleep."
As the cop went rigid and collapsed to the floor, Mario took the key ring, rose and exited the cell. As he did so, the heavy steel door swung closed and locked behind him -- seemingly with a will of its own.
*********************************************************************
7:57 P. M.
While scrunched down on the front seat of their sedan, Scully remarked, "I feel like a peeper, Mulder. What are we doing?"
"We’re keeping potential suspects under surveillance from a discreet distance."
"Oh? It looks to me like we’re following two kids around town who would probably rather be left alone. Look, this is the third park they’ve gone into in the last half-hour. At that age, what would you be doing in a park at night with your girlfriend?"
"Watching the submarine races."
"What?"
"Never mind, old joke." After a pause, he then asked, "Hey, Scully, correct me if I’m wrong, but it was YOUR idea to follow that guy, wasn’t it?"
"I’m beginning to have second thoughts, Mulder. Maybe the two men I saw in San Francisco ARE just visiting Sunnydale. We definitely haven’t established any link between them and our case."
While mulling over her statement, Mulder’s cellular phone started chirping.
"Mulder here. WHAT? You’ve got to be kidding. How? Asleep? Sure he wasn’t drunk? Well, would it be asking too much for you to put an APB out on him? When? Try right now. OK, yeah, fine. Goodbye."
As her partner flipped the phone closed, Scully asked, "What is it, Mulder?"
"Seraphim escaped from custody."
"When?"
"They think a few minutes ago."
"They think? They don’t know for sure?"
"No. It seems that he hypnotized the guard AND the desk sergeant, took their keys, and then helped himself to one of Sunnydale’s two police cruisers."
With a note of incredulity, Scully remarked, "Mulder, it takes extensive psychiatric training to hypnotize people. A teenager definitely shouldn’t be able to accomplish it, especially under those circumstances."
"Well then, we’ll just have to chalk it up to another incredible coincidence that both guards just happened to fall asleep on duty, while also leaving his cell door unlocked."
"So now what, Mulder?"
"They’re putting out an APB with the state police. After all, how hard should it be to spot a stolen police car?" Then, refocusing his night vision equipped binoculars through the windshield, he saw the couple -- a tall man dressed mostly in black and a petite girl wearing a leather mini skirt -- disappear into the trees.
"Scully, where exactly are we?"
Focusing a flashlight on a map, the woman answered, "Right here. On the east side of War Memorial Park. The path leads northwest a few hundred yards, before finally exiting the park near the local high school."
Starting the car’s engine, Mulder stated, "OK, we’ll pick up the surveillance on the other side."
*********************************************************************
War Memorial Park
8:00 P. M.
On a small patch of grass located in front of the stone obelisk dedicated to Sunnydale’s Civil War veterans, stood Richie Ryan with Xander at his side.
"Bet this guy won’t even show up?" whispered the student to the teacher.
"He’ll show."
"How do you know."
"They always do."
Before his words could even dissipate in the cool evening breeze, the two Immortals noticed a shadow emerge from between two nearby trees.
"I warned you about tricks, Harris. You’re supposed to be here alone."
"Hey, I’m ready you bast. . ."
Cutting off this outburst, the elder of the two then stepped forward, stating, "I’m Richard Ryan. Xander’s my student. If you’ve got a problem with him, you’ve got a problem with me."
Stepping into the light, Joshua Whelon remarked, "Obviously I was wrong in assuming that the mentor would have a better grasp of the fundamentals than the student. Funny, but I distinctly remember a rule about single combat between a challenger and the challenged. That, for the members of our studio audience, would be Harris and myself."
"You don’t even know Xander. Why him? He’s just a kid?"
"Kid!? !Hey, Richie. . ."
"Why? Do I need a reason, Ryan?"
"I think you do. You could have killed him yesterday, but you didn’t. Why?"
While rubbing his hand on his chin, Whelon stated, "Now let’s see. . . why? Oh, OK, how’s this. . . he has a Quickening that I want. Is that good enough for you?"
"No."
"No? Well, how about this. . . I needed a messenger boy, Ryan -- big deal protégé of the legendary Duncan MacLeod."
With Whelon’s true motive now becoming clear, Ryan remarked, "You didn’t kill Xander because you knew I’d find out about your challenge. And then through me you’d have a shot at MacLeod."
With a sarcastic sneer, he answered, "Christ, it took long enough. You boys aren’t very swift on the uptake, are you?
"Holy shit," exclaimed Xander.
Whelon then continued, stating, "Nowadays, these kids always go running back to daddy when they’re challenged. . . disgusting. Glad to see that you lived down to my expectations, Harris."
"Hey, you’re the only disgusting one here, Whelon. And for your information, Xander didn’t tell me about you."
"No? Then how did you find out?"
Not wanting to expose the existence of the Watchers, Ryan instead borrowed a line from one of his favorite old TV commercials, remarking, "Ancient Chinese secret."
"Ancient Chinese secret, my ass. Actually, Ryan, after I finish with you, maybe I’ll beat it out of boy wonder over there. From what I’ve heard about MacLeod, he’ll go berserk when I knock off his fair-haired boy. . . or is it boys? And then he’ll get sloppy." Whelon punctuated this statement by withdrawing a saber from his long black overcoat, before slipping free of the garment and allowing it to fall to the ground.
"Richie, let me. . ."
"No, Xander. This IS my fight." With some hesitation, the redhead then added, "If he kills me, promise me that you won’t try to stop him."
"But. . ."
"No buts, Xander! You’ve got to get outta here and warn MacLeod. He’ll probably be pretty zoned out after the Quickening. Promise me."
With obvious reluctance, the teen merely nodded before stepping back a few yards. Ryan, meanwhile, had withdrawn his Gothic Bastard broadsword from his jacket. Twirling it around by the hilt, he quickly reacquainted himself with its heft and determined the weapon’s natural balance point.
"OK, let’s do it."
*********************************************************************
After leaving the Bronze, Buffy had taken her first patrol swing of the night through several of Sunnydale’s noted hot spots. To her surprise, Angel had decided to tag along. In the first two parks they visited, all was quiet, including their conversation -- or lack thereof. Now as they walked slowly through deserted War Memorial Park, the vampire decided to break the ice by asking, "So where’d Willow go in such a hurry?"
"She’s helping Giles research some big-time evil in town. Guy by the name of Semolina or something."
Coming to a dead stop, Angel exclaimed, "Semyaza! Here, in Sunnydale?"
"Does everybody know this guy?"
The Slayer could swear that Angel’s already pale face was now a couple of shades whiter.
"Semyaza’s incredibly dangerous. He was banished from heaven for leading a rebellion against God."
"Yeah, I know. Giles wasn’t too happy about him being here either. Well, you know what they say. . . the bigger they are, the harder. . ."
"This isn’t good, Buffy. Semyaza’s also a powerful vampire -- possibly the original vampire. After being cast out, he and his followers came to earth and started sucking the life out of mortals. Eventually, they were confined to a demon dimension."
"Hell?"
"That’s one name for it."
"Well, it seems he got loose somehow."
In a characteristic understatement, the vampire remarked, "It happens. I’m proof of that."
"Yeah, well I’ll just have to kick his ass back there."
To this, Angel replied ominously, "If you fight him, he’ll kill you."
"Hey, excuse me, I’m the Slayer, remember? I’ve been chosen to send evil packing. . . and I’m good at it."The girl then started walking again.
Calling from behind her, Angel stated, "You can’t do this alone. You’ll need help."
Upon hearing this remark, the girl turned and stated, "Yeah, Cash said you’d be here all week."
Now walking toward her, Angel remarked, "Cash talks too much."
"Excuse me? And what’s THAT supposed to mean?"
"Buffy, we’ve gone over this. . . more than once."
With a pert expression, the girl stated, "Well then, I guess we’ll have to go over it again."
If the vampire was actually breathing, he would probably have sighed at this point.
"I’m no good for you. We’re no good together."
"Angel, that’s not true!"
"No? I tortured Giles, tried to kill you and your friends. . . several times, and actually killed Jenny Calendar. Now, in my book, that’s definitely an unhealthy relationship."
"But you weren’t yourself. The demon. . ."
In a resigned tone, Angel responded, "I AM the demon, Buffy. I’ve always tried to deny it, but now I realize that Angelus IS a part of me. . . probably the stronger part."
"So what are you saying?"
"If. . . ah, I mean, after we deal with Semyaza, it might be better if I. . ."
However, before he could finish the thought, they heard the sharp sound of clashing metal beyond a grove of tall trees. After remarking, "Oh no, not again!" Buffy ran toward the ominous sound with Angel following close behind. Breaking into a clearing, they were confronted by the sight of two men fighting a vicious duel while another stood by watching.
"Xander, what’s going on? Is that Richie out there?"
"Yeah, he’s fighting a freak by the name of Whelon. The asshole challenged me to get to him and MacLeod."
As they watched, Ryan was slashed along the right forearm. However, rather than pulling back to protect the injured limb, he lunged forward, catching Whelon in the left shoulder. However, the older Immortal blocked a follow-up thrust at his chest, and the two started circling again.
Authoritatively stating, "We’ve got to stop this," the Slayer moved toward the combatants, only to be restrained by both Angel and Xander.
"Whoa. . . where do you think you’re going?"
"Angel, I’m not going to stand by and watch Richie die."
"You don’t have a choice, Buffy, it’s their way."
"Their way. . . it’s insane?" Turning to Xander, she asked, "Is that how you feel too?"
"I’m not allowed to interfere. . . it’s a rule."
"Well, it’s not my rule. And there damn well isn’t going to be a decapitation in Sunnydale tonight!" Removing a stake from her boot, the girl started across the field.
As the duel continued, the two Immortals realized they were very closely matched. However, while pressing an attack to Whelon’s injured shoulder and upper arm, Richie was grazed again. . . this time in the right thigh. Immediately moving to exploit the younger man’s latest injury, Whelon attempted a stabbing lunge that was blocked and quickly turned back. Although favoring his uninjured left leg, Ryan then forced him to retreat with a flurry of powerful thrusts. All were blocked, except one that was merely deflected upward, opening a long gash along the left side of Whelon’s cheek and jaw.
"Ahh. . . baby’s got a boo boo."
Running a hand over his injured face, Whelon sneered, "I’ll kill you for that, Ryan!"
"Sure, Whelon, like you wouldn’t have anyway. Now, if you’re really lucky, I’ll give you a matching one on the other side. . . I hear some chicks are into scars."
With a growl, the elder Immortal started slashing again.
Meanwhile, across from the park, a blue Taurus extinguished its headlights after turning onto the street. While easing to a stop at the curb, the male driver asked the woman seated next to him, "Can you see our two lovebirds yet?"
Scanning the dark field with Mulder’s binoculars, Scully initially answered, "No" before amending her response, "wait. . . there’s the girl. But now she’s with two men."
"She’s with TWO guys now?" asked Mulder rhetorically. "That’s my kinda girl."
Continuing to pan across the clearing, his partner initially remarked, "Roll your tongue back into your head, Mulder." Then, spotting something that caused her to lower the glasses, she whispered, "I don’t believe it."
"What’s wrong, Scully?"
Quickly refocusing the binoculars, she replied, "Either the high school fencing team is practicing late, or I think we’d better get over there FAST!"
"What?"
"Two men are having a. . . a. . .
"A what?"
"A swordfight, Mulder! Right there in the park!"
"Ha ha, nice joke, Scully."
Handing over the glasses, she stated, "I’m serious, take a look for yourself."
About three seconds later, Mulder’s jaw dropped. "I think we’d better get over there."
Just as he was turning over the ignition, Mulder noticed two Sunnydale police cruisers speeding in their direction. The second car, lights flashing and siren blaring, was obviously pursuing the first. This fact was made all the more obvious when a deputy leaned out the window of the second car, shotgun in hand, and opened fire on the first vehicle’s tires. Missing his mark, the shell instead shattered the car’s left taillight.
Telling Scully to buckle up, Mulder quickly pulled in front of the onrushing cruisers -- effectively blocking the street. Taking evasive action, Mario Seraphim, behind the wheel of the first car, attempted to turn -- but not soon enough. After smashing the back fender of the FBI car, spinning it around, he hopped the curb, became airborne, and arced toward the Civil War memorial like a missile. In the headlights, a moment before impact, he noticed five startled people staring at the spectacle unfolding before them.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed both Xander and Buffy, while Ryan and Whelon momentarily forgot what they were doing, choosing instead to drop to the ground as the car sailed overhead. Angel, meanwhile, calmly remarked, "Now there’s something you don’t see every day."
Once the car had toppled and then crushed the stone memorial, it finally came to rest upside down and burning, its rear wheels still spinning. Racing toward the stricken vehicle, Buffy, Angel and Xander frantically pulled at the doors in an attempt to free the driver, while the two Immortals, both hobbled by injuries, struggled back to their feet.
"This isn’t over, Ryan. . . not by a long shot!"
"Hey, any time. . . any place, buttwipe!"
Not bothering to conceal his sword, Whelon started back toward the tree line. Thinking that their suspect was fleeing, the two Sunnydale cops -- never known for their high IQs -- ran after him.
Meanwhile, back in the Taurus, Mulder tasted blood in his mouth, thanks to a split lip. However, glancing at his partner, he immediately knew something was seriously wrong. The passenger side window was shattered and there was a large blood smear on the dashboard where her head had whipsawed from the impact. Because the car was not hit head-on, the air bags had not activated to cushion the blow.
"Scully. . . Scully?"
Quickly making his way around to the other side of the vehicle, Mulder saw a large angry gash, peppered with shards of shattered glass, bisecting his partner’s hairline. Still shaky himself, he momentarily fumbled with his phone before dialing 911.
"This is Federal Agent Fox Mulder. My partner’s been hurt. . . I need an ambulance. . . immediately! Where?" Not familiar with the area, he provided an easily identifiable landmark, "We’re in a park near Sunnydale High School. Hurry!"
About 100 feet away, the fire blazing from the police cruiser was intensifying. Buffy, Xander and Angel, now joined by Richie, tried to shatter the windows while the driver, hanging upside down, attempted to untangle himself from the wreckage. Peering over the top of the car, Xander noticed the flames beginning to surround the ruptured fuel tank. "Hey guys, we’re running out of time!"
Meantime, inside the car, Mario’s fuel soaked clothing began to smoke. As the teen’s gaze met her own, Buffy felt a chill run down her spine.
"WE’VE GOT TO GET HIM OUT OF THERE!"
Deciding to try a different approach Richie, still unable to generate much power with his injured right arm, tried to gain some leverage by using a tire iron from the vehicle’s trunk, while Angel attempted to peel back the driver’s door. Cutting his hands on the twisted metal, the vampire let out a growl as his face morphed into it’s natural -- unnatural? -- appearance. Ripping the door from its hinges, he reached inside to pull the boy out. However, instead of finding a compliant victim, his hand met a powerful grip surpassing his own.
"Be gone, demon!"
"What. . . ?"
Before Angel could utter another word, a flash sent a scorching sensation through his body. Howling in pain, he screamed, "Buffy, I can’t see," before going limp.
Seeing the flash, and hearing the vampire’s moaning, the Slayer grabbed his prone form by the legs and dragged him away from the wreck. This provided an opening for Xander to squeeze through. Peering inside, he saw Mario’s unnaturally calm -- considering the circumstances -- face staring back.
"What the hell? Mario. . . is that you?"
"Are you in league with that demon?"
"League. . . demon? You mean Angel?"
"Is that the blasphemous name he goes by?"
The young Immortal, not yet having all the pieces to the puzzle, deciding to cut right to the heart of the matter, stating, "Look, Angel’s a friend. . . most of the time. But right now, you’ve got to get out of there!"
Nodding, the teen told Xander to get clear. Once the Immortal was outside, there was another flash. This time, all four doors of the car were blown off, leaving Richie prying air.
"What the fu. . . ?"
A moment later, Mario emerged and calmly walked away from the vehicle. . . leaving his would-be rescuers staring at him in amazement. For one thing, he didn’t seem at all concerned that his clothes were on fire.
"Must be in shock," thought Ryan while moving to knock him to the ground. However, after yet another flash, all traces of fire, both on his clothes and the car, vanished.
"Nice trick," remarked Xander.
However, not everyone was impressed. Buffy, kneeling over Angel’s still writhing form, was shouting, "What did you do to him?"
"He startled me. I thought he was an enemy. I’m sorry."
Rising, while fingering a stake, she exclaimed, "You’re sorry! What do you mean, you’re sorry?"
But before Mario could elaborate, their conversation was interrupted by the distinctive sound of a hammer cocking. Turning, they saw a tall man wearing a suit, blood trickling down his chin, with a gun pointed at them.
"Stay where you are! You’re all under arrest!"
"You don’t know what you’re doing, Agent Mulder," Mario replied.
"Just shut your mouth and remain where you are or so help me. . ."The agent then glanced around the weirdest crime scene he’d ever beheld -- noting swords, an unidentified blood-soaked man, two other teens, and Angel’s prone form. Taking a closer look at the face of the latter, he noted what appeared to be ridges running along the forehead. [Gonna need another ambulance for that one. . . and fast. . . he thought. ]
Looking past Mulder, Mario saw the reason for his anger.
"What’s wrong with Agent Scully?"
"A lot you care, punk! If she dies, I’ll make sure they stick a needle in your arm!"
"I can help. Just let me go to her."
"You’ve done enough already!"
Starting to move in Mulder’s direction, the teen stated simply, "I can save her."
"Hey, I’m warning you! Stay where you are!"
Ignoring him, Mario continued toward Scully. Suddenly, two shots rang out. In the silence that followed, Mulder actually appeared more startled than the teen. First, the agent rarely fired his weapon and second, when he did, there was usually some reaction by the target -- such as falling down, or in other instances, oozing green slime. In either case, they didn’t remain standing, such as Mario was now doing, with two clearly visible gunshot wounds to the chest emitting beams of light. Then, more amazingly, the wounds closed, leaving bloodless holes in the T-shirt he was wearing.
"What the hell are you?"
Fox Mulder never heard the answer. A moment later, he was on the ground unconscious, thanks to a blow delivered by a heavy cane.
"Joe!" exclaimed Richie. What are you doing here?"
Looking down at Mulder’s crumpled body, he replied, "Committing a felony, if I’m not mistaken. . . and keeping your sorry ass out of jail." As Mario continued past Dawson toward Scully, the Watcher beheld the teen’s face and nearly fell over.
"You? But it can’t be. . . !"
Ignoring him, Mario approached the damaged Taurus, with Ryan and Xander trailing close behind. They were soon joined by Giles, Willow, Nick and Derek who had all exited the school after hearing the car crash.
"Derek, we’ve got to get her to a hospital," implored his associate.
Before the Precept could reply, Mario placed one hand on the side of Scully’s head and the other on her chest. As the group continued to watch, puzzled, the teen’s hands began to glow. Even Buffy, still kneeling at Angel’s side, could see the weirdness from a distance.
"He must be empathic," remarked Derek, while Giles and Willow silently nodded in agreement.
As the agent’s injuries faded, her breathing became stronger. Slowly opening her eyes, she weakly asked, "Who are you?"
Removing his hands, Mario simply replied, "You already know that, Dana. Rest now."
As she peacefully closed her eyes, the boy shakily rose and turned away from the group. Without uttering a sound, he staggered a few feet before falling face down onto the grass.
"This is NOT good!" Xander exclaimed.
With the sound of an approaching ambulance getting louder, Giles instantly shifted into full "clean up the incriminating evidence" mode. In rapid order, instructions were given to take Angel and Mario into the school library, lest medical examinations turn-up anything out of the ordinary. . . WAY out of the ordinary. With Nick and Derek quickly taking hold of Mario, and Xander and Richie doing the same with Angel, the supernatural beings were gone long before the paramedics arrived.
*********************************************************************
St. Michael’s Church Rectory
8:24 P. M.
[Ring] [Ring] [Ring] [Ring]
"Hello?"
"Father Philip Callahan?"
"Yes, this is Philip Callahan. May I help you?"
"Actually, you can help yourself," a deep, resonating voice replied. "A child. . . a very special child. . . will be born tomorrow during the winter solstice."
Interrupting, Philip remarked, "I’d be happy to baptize the child after it’s born. . ."
"That is not at issue here, priest," the hauntingly familiar voice coldly remarked, before adding ominously, "but its very survival -- as well as your own -- is."
"Who is this?"
"That is not important, Philip Callahan. What IS important is that you stop the dark forces working to destroy the child."
"I don’t understand. . . what forces?"
"Refer to the Book of Revelation, and all will be made clear."
Still not sure whether to take the caller seriously, he decided to ask, "So where can I find this special child?"
Just before a dial tone replaced the caller’s voice, the priest received a chilling one word reply: "Sunnydale."
With his heart now racing, Philip reached for the Bible on his desk. Hurriedly paging toward the back of the text, he was soon skimming the indicated passages. After reading Chapters 13 and 14 in particular, he knew there was a serious problem. Grabbing his car keys, he raced for the door.
*********************************************************************
Moments before, across San Francisco Bay, a clawed hand hung up a phone.
"It is done, Julian."
Seated behind a large desk with his back to his fellow Kindred, the Prince asked, "The priest is on his way to Sunnydale?"
"Yes," answered Daedalus.
Without bothering to turn around, Julian then dismissed him, stating, "You may go now."
Detecting an uncharacteristically cold edge to Julian’s demeanor, the Nosferatu Primogen hesitated before finally inquiring, "You are uneasy with this arrangement?"
Swiveling around, the Prince spat, "Uneasy? Yes, Daedalus, that’s one word for it. Hate would be another."
"But the prophesy is very clear."
Rising from his desk, he retorted, "Nosferatu prophesies are NEVER clear. You know that better than most."
"Unfortunately, Julian, this one is."
With a derisive snort, the Kindred answered, "Yes, and it might get two of my most valued allies -- and two of my closest friends -- killed."
"I am also fond of Angelus and Cash."
Softening somewhat, Julian amended his previous statement by remarking, "Of course you are, Daedalus. Please forgive me if I implied otherwise." Recomposing his thoughts, the younger of the two explained, "I resent having to lie to get them to that forsaken town."
With his hands held firmly behind his back, Daedalus stated, "The evil that threatens to consume this world cannot be stopped through brute force alone, Julian."
"I know, you’ve said that before."
"And I will say it again -- guile -- that is the key. And Angelus is our best hope."
"I just hope you’re right, Daedalus."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
9:32 P. M.
"Let’s see," quipped Nick, "in this room we have three Immortals, two Watchers, a vampire slayer, a vampire named Angel, and a real angel. Now all we need are three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree."
"Hey, what about me?" asked a frowning Willow.
"Oh, excuse me, AND a witch," the Immortal remarked.
"Well, OK then. I just hate to be left out."
Meanwhile, Buffy -- looking grim -- was still holding Angel’s cold, unmoving hand. To make matters worse, his face also appeared sallow and sunken. On a neighboring table, however, Mario started to come to. After moaning a single word, "Marie," his eyes opened. As the group looked on in silence, he attempted to stand.
"Not so fast," remarked Derek, "you were seriously injured less than an hour ago."
"I’ve got to find Marie. She’s in danger. . . I can sense it."
Turning to Nick, Richie asked, "Who’s Marie?"
"His wife," was the whispered reply.
"You’re kidding? He’s married? He looks like a kid."
"He’s older than he looks, Ryan."
As Mario continued to stare back at the faces examining him, he quickly focused on one that was familiar -- older -- but familiar.
"Hello, Joseph. It’s been a long time."
Slowly moving forward, Dawson asked, "So it IS you?" Receiving a nod in reply, he then stated, "But you look the same as you did 30 years ago. . . how?"
"It’s a long story, Joseph."
"He’s an angel," offered Derek, who turned toward Mario and asked, "Isn’t that right?"
"Is that what the Legacy says that I am, Dr. Derek Rayne?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Specifically, we believe you are the angel Marioch mentioned in the Book of Enoch."
"So what else does your research tell you?"
The Precept quickly elaborated. "Our information also indicates that you’re at least 10,000 years old." This last tidbit caused Xander to emit a long whistle.
"And you base this information on. . . ?"
"The trident on your neck -- angelic script, I believe -- your unique mark."
Now on his feet, the teen remarked, "Then you must also know that angels don’t reveal themselves to mortals without good reason."
"How about to Immortals?" asked Nick.
"To one such as me, all are mortal, Nicholas Boyle."
"Touche, Nick," remarked Derek.
"Then I’ll give you good reason," remarked the Slayer, now standing toe to toe with Mario, "heal Angel like you healed that woman out there."
"I can’t. I’m sorry."
"You can’t or you won’t?"
"Buffy, please!" implored Giles. "Please excuse her, she’s a bit emotional."
"Emotional, my ass! Now you get over there, Tinkerbell, and fix whatever you did to him!"
Looking grim, Mario explained, "I can’t heal him because a demon exposed to the divine light cannot continue in this reality."
"Are you saying that Angel’s going to die because he tried to save you?"
"I’m sorry."
"No, but you will be!" The Slayer then produced a stake, shoving the tip under Mario’s chin.
With Giles crying out, "Oh, good Lord! What are you doing, Buffy?" and Dawson adding, "Have you lost your mind?" Xander excitedly remarked to Richie, "Shit! Threatening an angel CAN’T be a good thing!" In response, the other Immortal remarked, "Ah huh, we’re all gonna burn for this!"
With everyone looking on nervously, Mario proceeded to grasp the offending shaft with lightening speed, crushed it, and let the splinters fall to the floor.
"I realize you’re upset, Buffy Summers. Please try to understand that I can’t help your. . . friend. My powers are limited to the living."
"But he’s special. . . his soul. . ."
"Is trapped within a long dead shell," Mario finished. "It’s probably what prevented him from disintegrating immediately."
Once again composed, Giles started thinking out loud, "Perhaps if we could rejuvenate his body, his condition would stabilize."
"But Rupert, the only known way to rejuvenate a vampire is through major transfusions of fresh blood," offered Derek.
"I know."
As Mario proceeded toward the door, he stated, "Thank you all for coming to my aid. But now I have to go."
"Why did you come to Sunnydale in the first place?" asked Derek.
"That’s not your concern."
"Was it to battle Semyaza?"
Coming to a stop just short of the door, the angel turned back around.
"Semyaza’s here?"
"Yeah, Einstein, he tried to kill me the other night," remarked Buffy.
"I’ve got to go."
"You keep saying that," Derek persisted, "what’s so special about the girl?"
"That’s also not your concern."
"It’s because Marie’s carrying a very special child. . . your child, isn’t it?" The question was posed by a newcomer to the library -- a tall figure dressed entirely in black except for a white Roman collar around his neck.
"Philip, what are you doing here?" asked Derek.
Turning to face the priest, Mario remarked, "You’re only partially correct Philip Callahan. The child and the girl are special. . . that’s true. . . but the child’s not mine. I’m only a surrogate."
"Well, if not you, then who. . . ?"
Seeing the distressed expression on Mario’s face, the priest then answered his own question. "Oh my God!"
"Exactly. That’s why I must protect her. She’s carrying the future of mankind."
"Yeah, but you can’t just walk around outside," Nick stated. "The cops, not to mention the feds, will spot you."
"The tunnels," Giles then stated. "They run under the school and extend throughout Sunnydale. Maybe you can use them to get across town."
"We have a few billion miles of tunnels around here," remarked Xander, "not to mention about a thousand caves, underground rivers, ancient tombs, a Hellmouth. . ."
"That’s enough, Xander! We get the idea," snapped Giles.
"A Hellmouth?" asked Mario.
"Yeah, it moves around some. It used to be under the school, then the cemetery, then a frat house. . ."
"Where’s the tunnel entrance?"
As Giles circled behind the main desk, he flipped a switch causing a panel to swing inward, exposing a dark opening.
"Angel’s the expert when it comes to navigating these passages. Buffy, maybe you can. . . ?"
"Giles, you seriously expect me to help this guy?"
"Yes, Buffy, I do. There seem to be much larger issues involved here."
"Maybe for you. . ."
"No, Buffy, for all of us," remarked Philip from across the room. "I’m not exactly sure what’s supposed to happen, but it’s going to happen within the next 24 hours."
Outnumbered, the Slayer dejectedly stated to her Watcher, "Fine. . . but only under one condition: Giles, you stay here and watch Angel."
"But Buffy, I. . ."
"Hey, Giles, if I’m setting aside my emotions, you’d better do the same. Yeah, Angelus tortured you big time last year. But that’s ancient history and that’s not Angelus over there. . . SO GET OVER IT!" Before the librarian could reply, the Slayer then asked Willow to return to the Bronze and bring Cash back, stating, "Maybe he’ll know something we don’t." She then disappeared into the tunnel with Mario, Xander and Richie following close behind.
"You’d better go along too, Nick," remarked Derek. "They’ll probably need all the help they can get."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale General Hospital
10:20 P. M.
"Mulder? Mulder can you hear me?"
"Huh. . . what. . . where?"
"Mulder, it’s Scully. You’re in the hospital."
Grabbing the back of his head, he moaned, "Ow! What hit me, Scully? It feels like there’s a goose egg back there."
"As far as the doctors can tell, it may have been caused by either the collision or a blunt object."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"You’re lucky not to have a concussion, Mulder."
"Lucky? That wouldn’t be the word I’d use, Scully." Then, remembering his partner’s condition, he asked, "How are you feeling? You looked pretty bad back in the car."
"What do you mean, Mulder? I feel fine."
"Scully, the right side of your head went through a car window. You were anything but fine."
Turning the side of her face to him, she remarked, "You must be mistaken, Mulder. Granted, I’m a little tired, so it is possible I hit my head, but nothing as serious as you describe."
"But. . . I was sure. Scully, we’ve got to get out of here."
"The doctors want to keep you overnight for observation, Mulder. And I’d have to agree with them."
Reluctantly remaining in bed, something else still troubled him.
"Scully, is Mario Seraphim dead? I shot him twice in the chest. . . at close range."
"Are you sure, Mulder? The paramedics only found us in the park. You probably got confused in the accident. Shock can. . ."
"I didn’t imagine shooting him, Scully! Check my gun."
"It’s in the hospital safe."
"Well, go check it."
"OK, Mulder, I’ll make you a deal. If you rest, I’ll check your gun."
Somewhat mollified, the man laid back on the pillow while Scully went in search of the security office. Minutes later, she held a . 45 caliber automatic in her right hand and a depleted clip of bullets -- short by two rounds -- in her left. From its scent, it was obvious the weapon had recently been fired.
*********************************************************************
10:35 P. M.
"I REALLY hate these sewers!"
"Relax, Xander. What are you afraid of, anyhow?" asked Ryan.
"Probably the big, bad bogeyman," needled Nick.
"Hey, quit it you guys," the teen replied. "There are things. . . bad things. . . down here. Believe me."
"Yeah, like what? Giant alligators that kids’ flushed down the toilet," remarked the Legacy member.
"Can you all just shut up back there?" Buffy asked rhetorically.
"Boy, somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed today," whispered Richie to the other two men.
"So what else is new? Whenever dead boy’s in danger. . ."
"Xander, shut up now. . . or you’ll be removing a stake >from where the sun don’t shine!"
"Cheez, Buff, don’t be so touchy."
"Careful, I think she means it, Xander."
"Hey, the same goes for you, Richie. . . and you too, Nick!"
"Snap!" remarked Xander with a smile on his face.
Up ahead, Buffy and Mario led the way, walking mostly in silence.
"So what’s it like to be an angel?"
"Pardon me?"
"Well, since we’re stuck down here together, we might as well get to know each other."
Pondering his answer, Mario eventually replied, "Usually pretty routine. Helping out people in trouble. . . that sort of thing."
"You mean kinda like those TV shows, you know ‘Highway to Heaven’ and ‘Touched by an Angel’?"
"Actually, no. For every person I help, ten others refuse my assistance. There’s always free will involved." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "It actually gets pretty frustrating at times."
"Frustrating? You mean you guys actually have human emotions?"
"Actually, Buffy, angels predate humans. Therefore, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that humans have angelic emotions."
"What do you mean?"
While still walking, he remarked, "Angels have the same range of emotions as humans. . . love, compassion, hate, greed. In fact, angels were the imperfect prototype for man. That’s what caused much of the strife."
"Strife? What strife?"
"It’s a long story."
"Hey, I’m not going anywhere."
With a smile, Mario then started the tale.
"At the dawn of time, angels were created solely to serve the heavenly host while standing in the divine light. For eons, there was peace in Heaven with each of the angelic hierarchies serving a specific function. . . at least until the Great Change came."
"What Great Change?"
"The creation of man. Although most angels accepted our secondary place in the Divine Plan, many others resented what they interpreted as a slight for their dedicated service."
"So they rebelled?"
"Yes. Led by Lucifer, a renegade group decided to challenge the new order, both in Heaven and on Earth."
"Including Semyaza?"
"Yes, he’s one of Lucifer’s lieutenants."
"Is? Don’t you mean, ‘was’? The bad guys lost, right?"
Stopping to look at the girl, Mario replied, "No, the battle continues. So far, we have the advantage, but that can change."
"Meaning?"
"Imagine every town with a Hellmouth spewing evil."
"Oh. . ."
At that moment, the two heard something up ahead. Soon, they were joined by the three Immortals taking up the rear. In rapid succession, the questions began flying, "What gives? Why did we stop? Are we there yet?"
"Shhh. . . we heard something."
"Shit, I hate this!" exclaimed Xander.
"Maybe it was just a rat," suggested Nick.
"I doubt it," Buffy remarked.
A few seconds later, the cause of the sound was evident: Six hissing vampires had surrounded the group.
Pulling out his sword, Xander squeaked, "I knew this was going to happen!"
"Great time to be right for a change," sniped Richie while also drawing his blade. "Yeah, congratulations, kid," Nick added, while doing the same.
As Buffy reached for a stake, she remarked to Mario, "Stand back, this shouldn’t last too long." Instead of complying, he calmly stated, "Be gone, demons."
His words were instantly followed by a flash that illuminated the dank tunnel brighter than the most intense sunlight ever could. A moment later, the bloodsuckers had all imploded with an earsplitting screech. As darkness returned, Mario continued onward, leaving Buffy and the amazed Immortals behind. Whistling, the Slayer simply remarked, "Nice trick."
"Yeah."
"Sure was."
"Damn!"
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
10:55 P. M.
"This had better be important. That girl at the club was HOT," remarked Cash while following Willow into the room.
"I told you before, Angel’s been hurt."
"C’mon, he’s a big boy. He can take care. . ."
The Gangrel went silent in mid-sentence upon seeing Giles, Derek, Philip and Joe alternately sitting and standing around a table with concerned expressions on their faces. However, the severity of the situation only became clear when Cash actually laid eyes on his fellow Primogen.
"Oh, shit! Angelus, can you hear me?"
Surprisingly, the vampire opened his eyes and stated in a weak voice, "I told you before, it’s Angel."
"OK, sorry man, whatever you say." Turning toward the mortals, he asked, "What the hell happened? It looks like he went sunbathing!"
"Actually," replied Giles, "you’re not very far off."
"What!"
"Angel WAS stuck by a very intense light."
"Sunlight?"
"No. . . not exactly," remarked Derek, "it’s somewhat more complicated."
"I’ll destroy whoever did this," swore the vampire.
In a panic, Giles implored, "No. . . no! That’s not why we asked you to come here. Angel’s injury was accidental. . ."
"Accidental? But look at him!"
"Cash, please try to calm yourself. We need your help."
Now pacing, the short, leather-clad figure replied, "Fine. . . I’m listening."
"We need your help to restore Angel to his previous condition."
Doing a double take, the vampire remarked, "Ah. . . excuse me, but there’s only one way to do that. . . and it requires LOTS of blood. I thought you guys were against that kinda stuff."
Now speaking for the group, Giles stated, "Well, yes, normally we are. However, there may be a way to accomplish the task without causing permanent damage to anyone involved."
"Oh really?" Looking unconvinced, the vampire sarcastically remarked, "This should be good. . . tell me more."
Stepping closer to the table, the Watcher remarked, "Our research has uncovered a ceremony by which a vampire may be restored to health through a blood transfusion. . . from a Slayer."
Overhearing this statement, Angel started pleading from the table. Trying to rise, he cried out, "No. . . not Buffy! It’s too dangerous! I’d kill her!"
Grabbing his friend’s arms, Cash pushed him back down while begging him to remain calm. Once accomplished, the other Kindred looked at Derek and said, "He’s right. He’d probably take too much blood and kill her. In his weakened condition, he wouldn’t be able to help himself."
"That’s very unfortunate," commented Derek. "We don’t know what else to suggest."
"Is Angel’s sire still alive?" asked Cash. "There are several rituals. . ."
"No," Giles replied grimly. "He killed Darla over two years ago."
"What about those two Angel sired? What were their names?"
"Spike and Drusilla," offered Giles.
"Yeah, that’s them. If we can find them. . ."
"They left town last year," the Watcher again stated grimly.
"Damn," the Gangrel exploded, "why is everything always so difficult in this shithole town?"
"Hey, watch it!" called Willow from across the library.
"Sorry. You know what I mean."
"Well, OK then. Apology accepted."
Now pacing like a caged tiger, Cash noticed Angel weakly motioning for him to come closer. Once he was standing over him, the injured vampire whispered, "Call Daedalus."
"Daedalus? What. . ."
"He’ll know what to do. Hurry!"
As Angel passed out once again, Cash turned and asked, "Where’s there a phone?"
"In my office," Giles answered. "I’ll show you."
*********************************************************************
Mancini Residence
11:05 P. M.
[Buzz] [Buzz] [Buzz] [Buzz]
While continuing to ring the doorbell, Richie remarked, "Maybe nobody’s home."
Stating, "Step back," Mario focused his concentration on the obstacle in their path. Soon, the wooden door exploded inward, taking the surrounding frame with it. As the debris settled, the angel stepped inside, leaving the others staring at each other. "Marie. . . are you here? Mrs. Mancini. . . ?
"Remind me not to piss this guy off," remarked Nick while the others silently nodded in agreement.
Once inside, they all realized something was wrong. For one thing, there was the outline of a large scarlet scythe scrawled on the room’s far wall.
"Ah. . . that’s not. . . I mean," Xander choked.
"Drawn in blood? Yeah, it is," finished Buffy.
As Mario raced upstairs to the bedrooms, Richie remarked, "That’s pretty sick. Whose blood?"
Nick then provided some details from his earlier visit, stating, "Marie lives here with her widowed grandmother."
Heading toward the stairs, the Slayer responded, "This isn’t going to be pretty."
Upstairs, the group came upon room after undisturbed room -- at least until they entered the large master bedroom. Here, they spied Mario silently crouched over a body lying partially obstructed by the bed. He was slowly rocking back and forth.
"Oh, man. This is not good," commented Xander.
"Mario, are you alright?" asked Buffy while slowly entering the room.
"He’s going to kill Marie and the child during the Winter solstice and the prophesy will be complete."
"Semyaza?"
Nodding, the angel stated, "That’s his calling card on the wall downstairs. He’s very proud of himself." After a pause, he added, "Jean Mancini was a good, decent person. She didn’t deserve to die like this."
"Who does?" asked Nick.
"Let’s get back to the library," stated Buffy. "Maybe Giles and the others can help find Marie."
"You go back. I’ll find her."
"Mario, this isn’t the time to go Lone Ranger on us. You don’t even know where to look."
"Semyaza will be strongest near the Hellmouth," the angel replied.
"Yeah, wherever that is?" Xander retorted. "It’s never in the same place for long, remember?"
"Look, tomorrow’s Saturday," stated Buffy. "School’s closed and we have all day to hunt down his murderous ass." Receiving only a lukewarm reception, she tried to be enthusiastic, remarking, "C’mon, we can do this, people!"
Reluctantly nodding, Mario turned slowly and left the room. After waiting for him to head back down the stairs and out of earshot, Richie asked the Slayer in a whisper, "Do you really think we can find this guy?"
"I hope so," was her now less than enthusiastic answer.
"WE HAVE TO!" they heard Mario call back upstairs.
"Oh, shit!" the two silently mouthed to each other.
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
January 15
2:13 A. M.
"I don’t understand, Giles. What are we waiting for?"
"Please be patient, Buffy. Cash said this ceremony takes some time to prepare. If it’s rushed, it may not work and Angel may. . ."
"What, Giles? Die? Angel may die?"
"Actually, I was going to say, ‘not recover. ’ But yes, if we get it wrong, Angel may die."
Peering through the slotted blinds of Giles’ office and into the library, she noticed that Xander and Willow, now joined by Oz, had sacked out on the staircase, while Richie and Nick had pulled two chairs into a far corner. Although not sleeping, they appeared quite comfortable with their feet up on a table. Cash, meanwhile, was still standing near Angel and Derek was again on the phone with Alex. Meanwhile, up on the balcony, stood Mario, while Dawson and Philip quietly talked, occasionally glancing up at him.
"You actually met him before, Uncle Joe?"
"Yeah, back in ’69 at the Philadelphia Naval Hospital. He said he was an orderly."
"And he looked the same?"
"EXACTLY THE SAME. . . that’s the creepy part. Now, don’t get me wrong, Philip, you get used to people not aging in our line of work. But even Immortals change their appearance over the years. Just look at Richie. . . his hair wasn’t always that short."
"Yeah, neither was Nick’s."
After a pause, the older man laughed before adding, "It’s funny. . . at the time I thought the kid musta been a hippie or something. For a military hospital, he had the longest hair on the ward. Now I know why no one made him cut it."
"So what’s he like?"
"Who, Mario?"
Nodding, the priest added, "Yeah, you looked pretty spooked when I got here. Like you saw a ghost."
While collecting his thoughts, the Watcher absently ran a hand through his beard. Finally, he stated, "That guy probably saved my life. Remember, just a few weeks earlier I hit that damn Vietcong mine. I didn’t have a very positive outlook on life at that point."
"And then you met him."
"Yeah, one day he appeared out of nowhere and started mixing it up pretty good with the other guys on the floor. . . playing cards, sneaking in beer and magazines, that kinda stuff. But the thing that really got me was how he seemed to care for the hopeless cases. He’d sit with them for hours at a time. Not even the nurses -- and there were several damn fine nurses back there -- did that."
"From what mom used to say, it sounded like you needed some cheering up yourself, Uncle Joe."
"Oh you can say that again. My sisters tried to visit when I got back stateside, but I wouldn’t let them see me like that. . . like this." For emphasis, the Watcher swung the cane into the side of his prosthesis, creating a hollow knock. "That guy up there talked to me every day for months. He was even there when I went through physical therapy."
"Time heals all wounds."
"Maybe, Philip, but at the time, my life was in the toilet." Then, looking directly at his nephew, he added, "If Mario hadn’t showed up when he did, I probably would’ve taken my sidearm and ended it all! Truth is, he saved my life."
Meanwhile, halfway across the room, Angel was straining to speak to his friend.
"Cash, you asked me what it’s like to be Angelus."
"Not now, Angel. Rest, I spoke to Daedalus. He’ll be here soon."
"I know. That’s why I have to say this now." After an extended pause, he continued, "Being Angelus feels. . . wonderful."
"Wonderful? But I thought you said. . ."
With a weak wave of his hand, he indicated the others in the room before remarking, "Angelus wouldn’t care about any of them. While most of us feed to live, he lives to feed. And without a soul, that monster enjoys all the pain and suffering he causes. That’s why he’s so dangerous."
"Why are you telling me this now, Angel?"
Grabbing at the Gangrel’s sleeve, he hissed, "Because I want you to promise me something, Cash."
With some hesitation evident in his voice, the other vampire nonetheless answered, "Sure, anything."
"If the attempt to heal me fails and Angelus somehow emerges. . . I want you to destroy me."
"But Angel. . ."
Tugging harder on his jacket, he added, "Angelus must not be allowed to kill again! Promise me, Cash!"
Reluctantly, the reply came, "I promise."
Leaning back onto the table, Angel whispered, "Thank you," before closing his eyes.
As Cash slowly moved away from Angel, he heard one of the library’s doors swish open and, turning toward the sound, spied the arrival of a slender female figure wearing a formfitting black evening dress. Xander, Richie and Nick instantly perked up, quickly joined by Derek, Joe and even Philip, who also turned his head.
"Lillie? What are you doing here? Daedalus. . ."
"Sent me instead, Cash," she interrupted. "He also told me of the ritual that must be performed."
"Why didn’t he come himself?"
With a smile, she replied, "Let’s just say that he doesn’t travel well. Nosferatu can be such homebodies."
"I don’t know about this, Lillie. . . the ritual. . ."
"Must be performed by two Primogen before sunrise -- that would be you and me, Cash -- or Angelus will be lost. . . forever."
"Angel."
"What?"
"Angel, not Angelus, must be saved. The world is better off without Angelus."
"Fine, whatever, Cash. But if we don’t do this, it won’t matter because he’ll be a pile of ashes."
"Oh, great, look what the cat dragged in."
Turning around to face the Slayer, who had just entered the room with Giles, Lillie merely smiled before replying, "It’s always such as pleasure to see you too, Buffy."
As Xander whispered to Willow and Oz, "Look out, cat fight!" the Watcher remarked, "Hello, again Ms. Langtry. Please excuse, Buffy. She’s a bit. . . concerned. . . about Angel."
"Why is she here anyway? I thought Daedalus was coming."
However, before Cash could respond, Lillie stated, "Well, Daedalus sent me. If you have a problem with that, maybe I should just leave."
Stepping forward, Buffy started to retort, "Well, maybe you shou. . ." when Giles suddenly took hold of her shoulder, remarking, "No, no, that’s fine. We’re all glad you’re here. Thank you for coming."
Across the floor, Nick then turned to Richie and remarked, "Not too much tension in the room, is there?"
"Yeah, for a dead guy, Angel sure gets around. Chicks must go for that brooding thing he does."
"Think we should try it?"
With a nod, the redheaded Immortal replied, "It couldn’t hurt."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Zoological Park and Gardens
4:34 A. M.
"You didn’t have to kill her, she was just an old lady!"
"You’re right. I didn’t," Semyaza stated. "I ENJOYED killing her. To watch the life drain out of her. There’s nothing else in creation quite like it."
"She was my grandmother!" screamed Marie. Then, feeling a twinge of pain, she asked, "What kind of monster are you?"
Slowly approaching the girl, who was strapped to a stolen hospital gurney, the fallen angel replied, "Now. . . now. . . this isn’t personal, my dear. We all have a role to play."
"Role? What are you talking about? This isn’t a television show. . . we’re not on a stage."
Stepping around a gaping pit in the floor, Semyaza remarked, "That’s where you’re wrong, Marie. We are on stage. In fact, the script was written thousands of years ago. That’s how long I’ve been waiting for this opportunity."
Once again feeling the baby kick, the girl grimaced before stating, "Just wait until Mario finds me. He’ll hand you your ass."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. . . such course language. I’m disappointed in you, Marie."
"Well that’s too damn bad. When Mario gets. . ."
"Oh yes, Mario. Did you know that we go back a long way? You could say we’re from the same neighborhood."
"I don’t believe you," the girl spat. "You’re nothing like him."
"I’m exactly like him, Marie. And what’s more, we’re here for the same reason."
To underscore his point, Semyaza slowly reached out and ran a hand along Marie’s stomach, causing the girl to flinch.
"Don’t touch me!"
"Such a brave front. . . quite admirable." Turning away from her, he then added, "Well, no matter, it’ll all be over very shortly."
"What are you talking about? Why am I here?"
"You’re here to fulfill the prophesy."
As a muffled screech emanated from the pit, Marie asked, "Prophecy? What prophecy?"
Again facing her, Semyaza replied, "The one that will raise the Dark Lord back to his rightful throne."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
5:58 A. M.
"Move those candelabras over there. And replace those white candles with black ones," the Toreador Primogen instructed.
As Derek and the librarian did as requested, the Legacy member asked, "Where did you get all this stuff, Giles?"
"I borrowed them from St. Matthews."
"You stole from a church?"
"BORROWED, Derek. . . we borrowed them. And if all goes according to plan, we’ll return them before they’re missed."
Now running a gloved hand over the largest wooden table available in the library, Lillie shook her head disapprovingly. "This will not do. . . not at all!"
Still sweating from rearranging the other furniture in the library, Xander, Oz and Richie all looked at her with expressions of disbelief.
"Excuse you?" Xander finally remarked, his hands on his hips.
"Absolutely disgusting. I won’t touch this filthy thing," cooed Lillie. "My dress will be ruined."
"Hey, I’m betting you’ve handled even more disgusting things in your day," sneered the Slayer from across the room.
"Buffy, behave yourself!" warned Giles.
Ignoring this outburst, the female Kindred simply stated, "A softer surface would be much more comfortable for all concerned. . . especially me."
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Xander turned to Willow and remarked, "Well, now we know what Cordy would be like as a bloodsucker."
"Sorry, lady, this isn’t a furniture store. It’s either that table or the one Angel’s already on," Nick stated flatly.
At this point, a thought occurred to Giles. "Actually, there may be another option. The faculty lounge contains a convertible bed. It’s quite comfortable."
However, before the Watcher could continue, he was suddenly confronted by several incredulous stares. Xander, not surprisingly, was the first to ask, "Giles, why does the teacher’s lounge have a bed in it?"
The librarian, now blushing, nervously mumbled, "It’s. . . ah. . . actually. . . ah. . . very easy to explain. It’s used as a sofa. . . during coffee breaks. . . nothing more."
"Oh, right," the teen remarked, "I always knew that freaky-deaky stuff went on in there."
The Brit then huffed, "You Yanks can be so crude," before moving toward the hall. "Xander, come along, I believe it’s on casters."
As the two went to retrieve the bed, Lillie slinked toward her fellow Kindred.
"Cash, who’s that up there?"
"Where?"
Pointing upstairs, she responded, "Up there. He hasn’t moved since I got here."
"Don’t mess with him, Lillie. They say he’s some kind of big time angel or something. Fact is, he’s the guy who put the whammy on Angelus. . . ah, I mean, Angel. . . to begin with."
"He’s kinda cute."
"Lillie, control yourself," the Gangrel warned through gritted teeth. "We don’t need that kinda heat right now."
"Well, a girl can dream, can’t she?"
"Can you at least try to keep your mind on business for a change?" asked Cash.
Now pouting, she remarked, "You’re no fun anymore. In fact, you’re sounding more like Julian every day."
The two were soon joined by Buffy and Derek, the former asking, "So how, EXACTLY, is this ritual thingy supposed to work, lady? You’ve been pretty light on details."
"Actually, it’s all very straightforward, little girl."
"We’d appreciate if you could provide some information, Ms. Langtry. You have been rather vague," the Precept stated.
However, before she could reply, the library doors burst open and Xander and Giles entered pushing a sofa. With a cat-like smile, Lillie stated, "You’ll all see shortly enough." Again pointing, she instructed the men to place the piece of furniture in the center of the room. A few moments after that, the bed was unfolded.
"OK, places everyone. Now Cash, if you could place Angel on the bed."
With Richie and Nick assisting, the Gangrel managed to carry the stricken vampire about 15 feet from where he had been lying. Opening his eyes for the first time in several hours, Angel asked weakly, "Cash, what’s happening?"
"You’ll be fine. We’re going to try something."
"Is Daedalus here?"
"No, Lillie came instead."
"Lillie? Why is she here?"
Overhearing the discussion, the woman asked, "Don’t you trust me, dearest?"
Ignoring her, Angel implored, "Remember your promise, Cash."
"How can I forget it?" the younger vampire muttered.
"What promise is he talking about?" Buffy asked Giles.
"I have no idea."
"Giles, dim the lights. It’s much too bright in here."
Heading toward the row of switches, the librarian whispered to the girl beside him, "Lillie does tend to be rather bossy, doesn’t she?"
"Now. . . now, Giles. As you’re always telling me, play nice."
"Everyone listen closely. Once the ceremony begins, you’re all to remain outside the sacred circle." Indicating the chalked ring on the floor with her high heeled pump, Lillie continued, "Except, of course, for Angel, Cash, myself and. . . her."She slowly raised a long, polished nail in the Slayer’s direction.
"Why don’t I like the sound of this?" Xander asked Willow. In reply, the girl swallowed nervously before remarking, "I just wish I knew what spell she’s using. . . maybe I could help."
"Ah, no, Will. The surgeon general has determined that amateur witchcraft can be hazardous to your health."
"But I’ve been practicing. . ."
"Shhh. . . I think they’re starting."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale General Hospital
6:06 A. M.
"How are you feeling, Mulder?"
Opening his eyes, the agent slowly sat up in bed.
"OK, I guess. What time is it, Scully?"
"It’s a little after six in the morning."
"Six in the morning? Why such an early start, Scully? Or is it because you can’t stand to be away from me?"
Seeing the grim response to his albeit lame joke, the man instantly became suspicious, asking, "What’s wrong?"
"There’s been another killing, Mulder."
"Who?"
"Marie Seraphim’s grandmother, Jean Mancini. A neighbor saw her front door broken open, got concerned and called the police."
Quickly reaching for his clothes, which were stashed in a laundry bag, he stated angrily, "Goddamn it! I knew that punk was a killer!"
"Not so fast, Mulder. The doctors haven’t finished examining your X-rays yet. You might have a concussion."
"If I’d stopped that bastard in the park last night, Scully, the old lady would still be alive. He probably went through her to get to his wife."
Still not sharing her partner’s conviction, the woman remarked, "Mario Seraphim doesn’t seem like the homicidal type, Mulder, even if there are some questions about his background."
"Wake up, Scully. He’s leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. How much more obvious can it be?"
"Well, what if there’s an unknown assailant who’s killing the people around him?"
"An unknown assailant? C’mon, Scully. . . I’m usually the one coming up with wild theories, not you."
"It’s not that implausible, Mulder," she responded defensively.
While pulling on his suit jacket, he headed for the door, remarking, "Sure, Scully. An invisible assailant who’s just happens to be an accomplished killer. . . let’s go."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
6:23 A. M.
With incense smoke rising toward the ceiling in blue clouds, Lillie Langtry was chanting from an apparently ancient leather bound volume. The text, with a ram’s head and pentagram inscribed on the cover, contained hundreds of pages of yellowed parchment.
"Ahman, radu satanus blaskis."
"Giles, what’s she saying?"
"This is fascinating, Xander. As far as I can determine, it’s Sumarian or possibly Babylonian."
"That’s great, Mr. Spock," Xander retorted, "but what’s she saying?" Standing on his other side, Willow whispered to Oz, "It’s Babylonian and she’s trying to invoke the blood spirit."
Overhearing this, Xander remarked, "I don’t want to know how you know that, Will."
"Canadi verbitu hemolaga Angelus."
Meanwhile, across the room, Nick was asking his boss, "What’s happening?"
Quickly jotting down notes on a pad, Derek answered breathlessly, "This is incredible. She’s calling forth some kind of spirit in a lost Babylonian dialect."
"That’s just great, Derek. Too bad it didn’t stay lost a little longer."
With the smoke beginning to swirl faster and faster, Angel started moaning and writhing against the ropes securing him to the steel bed frame.
"I hate all this supernatural mumbo jumbo. Give me a simple Quickening any day," Dawson sniffed to Richie and Philip standing near the stacks.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," the Immortal stated, "What’s up with this town, anyway?"
"Weird place. Nothing like Seacouver," remarked the Watcher.
"Oh, I don’t know," the priest interjected, "we see this kind of stuff in San Francisco pretty frequently."
"Well remind me not to move there either," Richie concluded.
Suddenly switching to English, Lillie continued, "In sacred circle we have made. Release this place from earthly bond. Bring forth what waits through doors beyond."
With gusts of wind now blowing through the sealed library, the multitude of candles were extinguished as assorted debris, mixed with incense smoke, began swirling in a vortex. Then, while holding a gold chalice inscribed with unfamiliar pictograms above her head, the female Kindred commanded, "Bring forth the vessel."
With Cash motioning for her to step forward, Buffy quipped, "I guess that would be me."
Taking her hand, the Gangrel whispered, "Don’t worry, you’ll be fine."
Looking down at Angel, the Slayer noticed that he looked worse than ever; his normally powerful body emaciated. He also appeared to be in great pain. Turning toward Cash, she noticed that a radical change had also come over him, namely the addition of fangs and golden wolfen pupils.
"I won’t let anything happen to you. I promised him."
"Ah, thanks. . . I think."
Placing the chalice down, Lillie then decreed, "Bleed the vessel."
Suddenly, before Buffy realized what was happening, she felt a stinging numbness on her right wrist. Looking down, she saw Cash’s curly brown hair near her elbow and felt a warm sucking sensation. As she continued to watch, transfixed, she also heard a nearby voice sounding somewhat alarmed.
"Hey, what’s Eddie Munster think he’s doing?"
Grabbing Xander by the shirt, Giles responded, "Calm down. We must have some degree of faith here."
"Oh, yeah? And why should we trust these two bloodsuckers? Answer me that, Giles. And another thing, where is Faith, anyhow?"
To this, the Watcher merely responded by holding him back a bit more strongly.
Meantime, about 15 feet away, the Legacy Precept was quietly asking his colleague, "Did you do as I instructed?"
"Yeah, Derek, they’re stashed behind the desk."
"Good. You never can be too careful." Lying unseen behind the desk was a duffel bag containing two loaded crossbows and vials of holy water.
With her bleeding wrist held over the rapidly filling chalice, Buffy was beginning to feel shaky. And facing Lillie’s wicked grin and phosphorescent green eyes wasn’t helping much either. In fact, she felt like the main course at dinner.
"That’s enough, Lillie."
Ignoring the Gangrel, the woman let the Slayer’s blood continue to flow into the cup.
Once again taking hold of Buffy’s hand, Cash stated more forcefully, "I said that’s enough!" He then raised the girl’s injured flesh to his lips and, running his tongue over the gash, instantly closed the wound.
"That’s a neat trick," Willow observed, thereby causing Xander to snap, "No, it’s not! That’s disgusting! Who knows where his mouth’s been!"
"You’re no fun anymore, Cash," the Toreador remarked with a pronounced pout.
Ignoring his fellow Kindred, the male vampire carefully led Buffy toward the perimeter of the chalk circle, "Stay here until it’s over."
Now holding the chalice in both hands, Lillie made her way toward the injured vampire. Smelling the contents caused Angel to growl and strain more forcefully against the restraints while Cash attempted to keep him down. Kneeling on the edge of the mattress, Lillie slowly lowered the cup to his parched lips.
"Drink up, my love."
"Oh my," Giles remarked.
"Me thinks this isn’t suitable for all audiences," quipped Xander.
After greedily downing the cup’s contents, there was no immediate improvement in Angel’s condition. In fact, just the opposite seemed to be true, as he slumped back limply onto the mattress, eyes closed, a dribble of blood on his chin.
"Angel?" Buffy whispered.
No longer preoccupied by having to restrain his friend, Cash asked Lillie impatiently, "So. . . what’s happening?"
No longer smug, the Toreador quickly turned the pages of the spell book back and forth a few times before finally stating, "Well, it should have worked."
"SHOULD, Lillie? !? What do you mean it should have worked? Why didn’t it?"
"Probably because we didn’t use ALL her blood like the spell calls for, Cash. But no, with all you do-gooders around here, we could only use a pint or two. . . or three."
Hands on hips, Buffy angrily barked, "Well, I’m SO sorry to disappoint you."
Determined, Lillie climbed onto the bed and, straddling Angel’s legs, stated, "Well, he’s not going to embarrass me by dying!"
"Lillie, what are you doing?" Cash asked somewhat nervously.
Ripping open the buttons of Angel’s shirt with her clawed hands, she replied, "Sometimes the old ways are best." Then, before anyone could react, she sank her teeth deeply into his neck.
"No, Lillie! Don’t!"
The response was instantaneous. Angel’s eyes shot open while his fangs sought and found the woman’s jugular. Just as quickly, his flesh also began to expand and flow over his skeletal frame.
"Is this what’s supposed to happen?" Dawson asked nervously. In reply, he received a shrug from Richie.
"I hope so."
Now struggling with renewed strength against the ropes binding him, Angel managed to free his left arm before Cash could get back into position. As the smaller Kindred fought to get the situation back under control, he heard a growl, followed immediately by the shrieking sound of stressed metal. The next thing he knew, a metal bar was heading for his head.
"Oh shit!" Xander screamed as Cash hit the floor, "here we go again!" Moving forward, he once again found himself being restrained by Giles.
"Hey, what gives?"
"Don’t enter the circle!"
"Yeah, but Buffy. . ."
"Can take care of herself! Don’t enter the circle!"
By now, Angel had broken completely free. With one fluid motion, he flipped Lillie over and was straddling her, his teeth still embedded in her neck. For her part, the Toreador was using her claws to rake his back, leaving bloody streaks in their wake. Eventually, as her struggling first weakened and then ceased, Angel seemed to lose interest. Quickly peering over his shoulder, he sought out a new target.
"Hello, lover!"
"YOU! But it can’t be!" exclaimed Buffy.
Getting up, Angel’s alter-ego, Angelus replied, "Oh, but it can. You just can’t keep a good demon down."
As the Slayer reached for a stake, the vampire lunged, knocking her to the floor and the air from her lungs. Holding her by the throat, Angelus was deciding if he should kill her before draining her or BY draining her, when he noticed movement behind him. Quickly tossing the Slayer back onto the floor, he spun around and grabbed an arm holding a stake aimed at his ribcage.
"That’s not very friendly, Cash."
"Die, you bastard!"
"After you, Gangrel scum!"
While punching the Gangrel in the face, Angelus simultaneously brought his knee up into the other creature’s groin. Then, after retrieving the stake, he was attempting to impale Cash when he heard a high-pitched whine. Feeling a searing pain, he looked down to see two crossbow bolts imbedded in the right side of his chest. He also heard someone remark, "Shit. . . we missed!" followed by an accented voice commanding, "Reload quickly, Nick!"
"Oh, great, just what I need. . . damn Legacy pricks."
Looking for an escape path, the vampire saw bodies closing in from all directions: in addition to Nick and Derek, there was Giles, Willow and Xander -- asshole kid had a sword; a priest holding a large crucifix and a small vial of holy water -- great, just great; and finally that troublemaking cripple and his lackey, Ryan -- also with a sword.
"ISN’T ANYBODY NORMAL AROUND HERE?"
"Hey, look who’s talking," Xander retorted.
As Angelus finally attempted to crash through what he believed to be the weakest link, namely the aforementioned Immortal teen, his booted foot left the chalk circle. Instantly, a bright flash caused him to jump backwards.
"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!"
Now perched back on the bed, the vampire also found himself facing a new threat. Looking up, he saw a form hovering just below the room’s ceiling.
"Remember me, demon?"
"YOU!"
Mario then swooped down onto the vampire, using one arm to lift Angelus off the floor by the neck. His eyes now bulging, the vampire clawed futilely at the angel’s face. "I’m REALLY getting tired of you," he spat.
Still holding the struggling creature in an iron grip, Mario then asked Philip Callahan, "Can you perform an exorcism?"
[Grrrrrrrrrr]
Startled, the priest answered, "Yes, of course."
[Rrrrrrrrrrr]
"Then do so. The demon’s name is Angelus."
[Grrrrrrrrrr]
Still not understanding, Philip asked, "But can’t you do it?"
"Yes. But then both the good and the evil will be banished. . . forever."
As Buffy regained her senses, she noticed Cash lying motionless nearby. Receiving no response from the fallen Gangrel, she then heard an all too familiar voice shout, "RELEASE ME!"
While still holding the increasingly frantic vampire at bay, Mario inquired, "Are you ready, Philip?"
After simply replying, "Yes," the priest continued, "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. . ."
As he continued to recite prayers, Buffy moved forward, a stake held at the ready.
[Rrrrrrrrrrr]
"It’s Angelus, isn’t it?"
In response, Mario replied, "Yes."
"You’re responsible for this! Angel was doing alright and then you came along. . . now look at him!"
[Grrrrrrrrrr]
"I know. I’m sorry."
"You’re sorry? Hey, Giles, he says he’s sorry. . . AGAIN! Hey, newsflash, buddy. . . I want my Angel back!"
"We’re trying. Please be patient."
"Patient? Hello. . . believe it or not, some of us aren’t going to live forever."
"By the power of God, I command thee to leave this body!" Philip continued.
[Grrrrrrrrrr]
Suddenly realizing that a different ritual was now in progress, the Slayer asked no one in particular, "What’s going on now?"
"An exorcism," called Giles from several feet away.
"You mean like in the movies?"
"Yes, Miss Summers," Derek replied, "just like in the movies."
"Cool."
"I command you, unclean spirit, to leave this child of God."
As a bright light filled the room, the vampire’s body suddenly went limp, allowing Mario to set him back down. As he did so, Lillie started moving again. Seeing Angel lying quietly next to her, she asked, "So did it work?"
"The jury’s still out on that, Miss Langtry," Giles remarked.
Rubbing her rapidly healing neck, the female Kindred remarked, "That boy always was quite a firecracker in the sack."
Ignoring her, Buffy helped Cash up.
"Damn, what hit me?"
"Angelus."
"Oh yeah, right. . . did I get him?"
Motioning toward the other vampire’s still form, the Slayer stated, "No. . . not quite. But he almost got you."
Bloody and bruised, Cash remarked, "No shit," before adding, "Angel made me promise to kill him if the ritual went wrong."
"Yeah, I kinda guessed that."
"So now what?"
"Now we wait," the Slayer concluded.
*********************************************************************
Mancini Residence
7:42 A. M.
As Derek steered the Explorer into a spot across from the house, he remarked to Nick, "Remember, you were never here last night."
"Yeah, I know. Actually, I wish I wasn’t. It’s not pretty."
Entering the house, they passed the shattered front door and proceeded inside. Mulder was examining the pictogram scrawled on the living room wall.
"Glad you could join us. We’ve only been trying to reach you for two hours."
"Sorry, our cell phones must be acting up," Nick replied.
Unconvinced, Mulder merely muttered, "Ah hah, right."
Stepping around the agent, Derek moved toward the bloody wall.
"And what do we have here?"
"Near as we can tell, our boy returned here after breaking out of custody last night and kidnapped his wife. Unfortunately, Mrs. Mancini seems to have gotten in the way."
"Have you determined the relevance of this symbol, Agent Mulder?" the Precept asked while studying the scythe.
"No, not yet. We’re going to send photos of it back to Quantico for analysis."
"That sounds reasonable," remarked the Precept.
"Where’s Dana?" Nick asked.
"She’s with the body."
As the Legacy member crossed the room heading for the stairs, Mulder turned and asked, "Where are you going, Boyle?"
"Upstairs."
"Why?"
"I thought you said Dana’s examining the body."
"I did," the agent replied. "But I didn’t say it was upstairs. Now how would you know that?"
As Derek’s eyebrows shot upward, Nick coolly replied, "I thought it was a safe assumption that since Mrs. Mancini wasn’t found in her living room she would probably be upstairs. Am I right?"
"Yeah, you’re right, Boyle. She’s in the master bedroom. Want me to show you the way?"
"No, I’ll find it myself."
"I’m sure you will."
A few moments later, upon entering the bedroom, Nick found Scully.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself. We’ve been trying to reach you."
"We or you? Mulder still doesn’t seem to trust Derek and me."
"Yeah, well he can be pigheaded at times."
"So what happened here?"
Looking down, the agent replied, "As near as we can tell, she’s been dead approximately 12 hours. Although we haven’t conducted a through examination, from the bruising it appears she was strangled and her neck broken." Then, after a pause, she added, "There was also this. . ." while exposing two puncture wounds previously concealed by the woman’s blouse.
Acting ignorant, Nick asked, "What are those?"
"I’m not sure. Although I’ve read about similar ritualistic killings."
"That’s pretty rough. She seemed like a nice lady."
"Yes, she did," Scully replied. "And what’s worse is that the timing of the crime makes Mario Seraphim the leading suspect. Mulder put a statewide APB out on him."
"Am I detecting some doubt in your voice, Dana? Don’t you think the kid’s guilty too?"
Looking directly at him, she answered, "At first, I thought he was probably guilty. But now, I’m not so sure. There’s something about him. . . it’s hard to explain."
"Tell me about it."
"I don’t know. . . you’ll probably think I’m crazy."
"Try me."
"Well, when we were interrogating him yesterday, something strange happened."
"Strange? Like what?"
"Well, when he looked at me, I felt this amazing sense of calm. It’s was one of the oddest things I’ve ever experienced."
"And therefore, you don’t think he’s a killer."
"I know it’s illogical, Nick. And Mulder thinks I’m crazy for a change, but I don’t think Mario’s capable of this kind of brutality."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Derek and I think the kid’s innocent too."
"You do? Why?"
"Let’s just call it a hunch."
*********************************************************************
8:37 A. M.
As they headed back to their truck, Derek remarked to Nick, "Agent Mulder’s convinced that Mario Seraphim’s some kind of serial killer."
"Well, Dana doesn’t agree."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Although she thinks there’s something ‘odd’ about him, she thinks he’s innocent."
"Smart woman."
"Yeah, I think so too."
As the two got into the vehicle and drove off, Mulder stepped out from behind the living room drapes while Scully was coming down the stairs. Pulling off her latex gloves, she asked, "See anything interesting out there, Mulder?"
"I still don’t trust them, Scully."
"Oh please, Mulder, not this again."
"I think Boyle was in this house before."
"Well, Mulder, that might be because he came with us yesterday to interview the deceased."
"Dammit, Scully, I know that! What I mean is that he probably got here before us and found the body." After pausing, he added ominously, "Maybe he even did more than that."
"Are you serious, Mulder? Do you really think Nick and Derek are somehow involved in this murder?"
"Boyle knew the body was upstairs before I told him."
"Fine, Mulder. But since most domestic murder victims are found in their bedrooms, is that such an amazing leap?"
"Say what you want, Scully. But I still think there’s more to those guys than meets the eye."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
12:24 P. M.
With Derek and Nick out; Xander, Willow, Oz and Richie zonked out in Giles’ office; Philip and Dawson put up in a motel; and Cash and Lillie hiding wherever the undead hid during the day, only Buffy and her Watcher remained with Angel. As she had for the previous hour, the Slayer was pacing.
"Will you please sit down, Buffy. You’re making me nervous."
"Sit down and what, Giles? I think we’re doing way too much sitting and not enough acting as it is."
"Try to remain focused," the Watcher implored.
"Oh, I’m focused. Angel’s over there playing dead, we have a supernatural being straight >from Hell loose on the street, a girl’s been kidnapped, and the bodies are piling up. Did I forget anything?"
Removing his glasses, the man replied dejectedly, "No. . . no. . . that seems to be about all."
"So what are we gonna do about it then?"
"Well, let’s think about this, Buffy. We’ve got to find Semyaza before he sacrifices Marie Demerest during the Winter solstice. Unfortunately, that only leaves us about 11 hours."
"Yeah. And we have no idea where to find them, unless. . ."
"Unless what, Buffy?"
"I have to go, Giles. I’ll be back later."
"Where are you going?"
"For some information. . . I’ll be back. Watch Angel."
"I’m coming with you." The statement came from above.
Looking up, she saw Mario perched on the balcony railing.
"Oh no, you’re not! Now don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful you helped us last night and all. . ."
Floating down, the angel landed soundlessly in front of her before repeating, "I’m coming with you."
"I work alone."
After replying, "Not today, you don’t," Mario nodded toward Angel and asked, "You love him, don’t you?"
"Yes," she answered in a whisper.
"And I love Marie. Now do you understand?"
Reluctantly, Buffy answered, "OK. Just don’t get in the way."
While heading out of the library, they were unexpectedly confronted by a short, balding man wearing a cheap suit.
"Principal Snyder? What are you doing here. . . on Saturday?"
"Be quiet. . . I’ll ask the questions here, missy."
Storming past them, the administrator saw an unknown man lying immobile across a table. He also noticed several others sleeping in the office. Spotting Giles, he stated accusingly, "What’s going on here. . . some kind of drunken orgy?" Wagging his finger, Snyder added ominously, "Now I’ve got you, mister! They'll throw you in jail for corrupting minors!"
"Now see here, you don’t understand. . ."
"Oh I understand perfectly. It’s all making sense now. . . all those strange gatherings in here at all hours of the day and night. You’re some kind of pornographer, aren’t you?"
"PORNOGRAPHER!? ! Are you completely mad?"
Spinning on his heal, Snyder started back to his office when he once again found himself facing Buffy and Mario.
"Miss Summers. . . I should have known. And you -- whatever your name is -- in trouble again. First, detention and now this. Get out of my way, both of you!"
"We can’t do that," Buffy remarked.
"No? Why not?"
"Because if we did, I couldn’t do this. . ."
[SMACK] [SMACK] [SMACK]
[THUD]
As the principal crumbled to the floor like a sack of potatoes, Giles became apoplectic.
"My God, Buffy! What have you done?"
Shaking her hand, the teen kept repeating, "Ow. . . ow. . . ow!" before adding, "damn, he’s got a hard head!"
"Was that really necessary?" asked Mario.
"Yeah, that troll’s had it coming. . . for a long time."
*********************************************************************
Willie’s Bar and Grill
1:16 P. M.
As they were about to enter the sleazy bar, Mario asked the Slayer, "So why are we here?"
"Willie the Snitch is the bartender. Nothing happens in Sunnydale that he doesn’t know about. . . or is involved in."
"Oh."
"Yeah, he’s helped us out from time to time. Sometimes though, he needs some. . . persuasion. . . before he does the right thing."
Pulling open the door, the two instantly noticed several shadowy figures retreating into a dark back room. In fact, everyone in the place quickly scurried for cover. Only the bartender remained.
"Hey, howya doing, young lady? It’s. . . ah. . . good to see you again."
"You don’t sound so sure about that, Willie. Now why would that be?"
"Um, ah. . . now why would you go and say that? It’s always good to see the Slayer and her. . . ah. . ."
"Friend," Mario finished.
"Yeah, right. . . the Slayer and her friend."
Continuing to run a dirty dishrag over the bar, Willie then asked, "So how’s Angel doing?"
Impatiently, she replied, "He’s been better," before stating, "We’re here for some info, Willie. There’s a new bad guy in town. . . goes by the name of Semyaza."
"Oh, no! I don’t need that kinda heat. I’m just trying to make a living here."
Grabbing him by the collar, the girl pushed her face into his, remarking, "Well then you’d better cooperate because I’ll turn the heat up right here and now."
"You don’t know what you’re asking. . . this guy’s bad. . . really bad. Nothing you can do compares to what he’ll do to me."
Stepping forward, Mario remarked, "Don’t be so sure. Some things are more important than your mortal existence."
"Yeah, right. . . sure. Like what?"
Replying, "Your immortal soul," the angel stepped forward and grabbed both sides of the man’s head. As a flood of images flowed into him, he fell back against the bar.
"Oh man! You're like him, aren’t you?"
"No."
"OK. . . OK. . . whatever. He’s in a cave under the zoo."
In response, Buffy asked, "How do you know?"
"According to my. . . sources. . . several animals were slaughtered there over the past few days. Then they found a zoo keeper dead last night."
"I know a girl got killed there the other night. But I never heard about the keeper," remarked Buffy.
"No? So tell it to city hall."
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale High School Library
9:13 P. M.
With practically the entire group from the previous evening assembled (except for Lillie -- returned to San Francisco and Oz -- lunar complications), a serious strategy session continued. On a bulletin board was a map of Sunnydale Zoo decorated with colored lines and pushpins.
"Now let’s recap," Giles stated while standing with a pointer at the ready.
"Jeez, Giles, we’ve been through this five times already," Xander complained. "Let’s just go over there and kick this guy’s butt." Richie and Nick, sitting near him, nodded in agreement.
"I’m afraid to admit this," Buffy remarked, "but Xander’s right. We’ve done stuff like this before. Why the Rambo routine this time?"
"It’s different this time, Buffy," the Watcher stated, "Semyaza cannot be underestimated. He’s quite powerful."
"Giles is right," Derek chimed in. "According to the information Alex provided this afternoon, Semyaza is a Domination. Is that correct, Mario?"
"Yes."
"Whoa. . . whoa. . . now that sounds kinda kinky," Xander remarked. Then, noticing disapproving expressions on many faces, he asked, "So what’s a Dominatrix?"
"A Domination," the Precept corrected, "is an angel like Mario here."
"Quite a powerful one -- very powerful -- actually," Giles added.
No longer raring to go, Xander turned to Mario and asked, "Yeah, but you can take him, right. . . right?"
"I’ll try."
"YOU’LL TRY! Oh man, this is not good!"
"Which makes it that much more important that we all know what we’re doing tonight," Giles stated while once again picking up his pointer. "Now, where were we? Oh yes. . . according to the map, three passages lead to Semyaza’s underground cavern. At precisely 11 o’clock, Mario will move in with Buffy, Cash, and myself >from the north, while Derek, Nick and Philip approach from the south. Xander and Richie, meanwhile, will cut off his escape from the tunnel to the east."
Suddenly smacking the paper with the pointer, the librarian continued. "Now. . . Joe, you’ll be in Derek’s truck, positioned on this small hill here, while Willow remains in the library coordinating the overall effort. Remember, if any group falls behind schedule, or runs into unexpected difficulty, you’re to immediately call either Joe or Willow and they’ll relay your message to the other groups. Are there any questions?"
"Yeah, General Montgomery, what’s that brown circle represent?" asked Xander.
Sheepishly, the Watcher answered, "This afternoon’s tea. . . it spilled. Now, are there any other questions?"
"What are we going to do with him?" asked Willow, nodding toward Snyder’s bound, gagged and blindfolded body trussed up in the corner.
"Assuming we’re successful, we’ll release him later. If not, we’ll let the students find him."
"But Giles," the girl remarked, "except for us, no students use the library."
"Yes, quite" the Brit agreed, a wry smile on his lips. "Now, is there anything else?"
"Where do you need me?" The shaky voice came from behind the group, causing all heads to turn.
"Angel, you’re up!" a surprised Buffy exclaimed.
"Yeah, I’m feeling. . . better."
"How much better?" asked Xander, not totally convinced.
"I’m alright. Angelus has been weakened. . . I can feel it." Then, looking at Mario, the vampire added softly, "Thank you."
"Maybe it would be better if you went home. . . and rested," Giles suggested.
"No, I want to help."
"He’s coming," Buffy stated decisively.
"But, he’s. . ."
"I said he’s coming, Giles! And I’ll be responsible for him. Do you have a problem with that?"
Placing the pointer down, the Watcher replied, "I just hope you know what you’re doing, Buffy."
"No, Giles, if I knew what I was doing, I would’ve moved away from here a long time ago."
*********************************************************************
Across from Sunnydale High School
10:40 P. M.
"We’ve been here all night," remarked Scully while sitting in a rented replacement car. "What exactly do you expect us to see, Mulder?"
"I’m not sure, Scully. Except that Boyle and Rayne went in there three hours ago and haven’t come out yet."
"Fine, Mulder. I realize it’s odd that they went into that building at night, but I still don’t like spying on people."
"I prefer to call it surveillance, Scully, not spying."
"You can call it whatever you want, Mulder. I don’t like it."
"Look out. . . here they come!"
As the agents continued to watch, a sizable group quickly exited the school, crossed the lawn, and headed toward several vehicles sitting in the parking lot. Within a minute, two motorcycles, two sport utility vehicles, and a small beat up foreign car roared -- or in the case of the latter, putted -- off into the darkness.
"Did you see who was with them, Scully? I knew it."
Reluctantly, the woman admitted, "You’ve been right all along, Mulder. They’ve been playing us for fools."
Starting the car’s ignition, Mulder hesitantly remarked, "Sorry, Scully, I know that you. . . liked. . . Boyle."
He didn’t receive a response.
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale Zoological Park and Gardens
10:54 P. M.
"Now remember. Semyaza isn’t an ordinary angel."
"Since when are ANY angel’s ordinary, Giles?"
"You know what I mean, Buffy."
Cautiously continuing through the tunnel, the girl then asked, "So what exactly is supposed to go down tonight? If this guy manages to open the Hellmouth, then what?"
"You don’t want to know," Angel remarked gravely.
"Yeah, Angel, I think I do. I don’t like surprises."
Instead of responding, the vampire glanced at Cash, who glanced at Giles, who glanced at Mario.
"HELLO? What am I missing here? What EXACTLY is supposed to happen tonight?"
"If Semyaza succeeds in opening the gateway, a dragon will emerge," Mario finally answered.
"A DRAGON! YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!"
"No, I’m afraid he’s not, Buffy," remarked Giles.
"And what about Marie? What is she, a sacrifice or something?"
While nervously eyeing Mario, the Watcher again replied, "No. . . not exactly."
Now stopping dead in her tracks, the girl spun around and confronted her four companions.
"OK. . . that’s it. What’s going on here. First, we have to stop this evil angel/vampire prick -- that’s bad enough -- then we have to rescue your squeeze. . ."
"Wife," Mario corrected.
"Sorry. . . wife. And now we have to slay a dragon. Is THAT it?"
As Angel and Cash stared down at their feet, the Watcher stuttered, "Well, ah, I mean. . ."
"SPIT IT OUT, GILES!"
"Oh, very well then -- we must also stop Semyaza from sacrificing Marie’s baby to the dragon."
After a prolonged silence, Buffy attempted to speak but words eluded her. Finally, she managed to ask, "And just when were any of you going to mention this?"
But before anyone could respond, a high-pitched wail came from deep within the tunnel. While stepping over a dead rat, the frustrated Slayer remarked, "I REALLY hate this job."
Meanwhile, back on the surface, Joe Dawson was atop a small hill overlooking the zoo. A cellular phone was on the seat beside him and a pair of binoculars were in his hands.
"C’mon, where are you guys?"
Having first lost sight of Buffy’s group, Dawson watched Derek, Nick and Philip also disappear into a tunnel. Sharpening his focus eastward, he could at least take some satisfaction in keeping an eye on Richie and Xander posted at the mouth of a third underground passage. However, while continuing to watch the two men, he thought he saw something move nearby.
"What the hell?"
As he continued to watch, a man wielding a sword stepped out from behind a building near the two Immortals.
"OH SHIT! NOT NOW!"
Reaching for the phone, the Watcher heard a click near his left ear.
"Put it down and hand me the keys, sir."
Through the reflection in the truck’s side view mirror, Joe saw a woman wearing a trenchcoat.
"Calm down, young lady. I’m just here star gazing."
"I said hand me the keys, sir."
As he reluctantly did so, Dawson couldn’t help wonder how he would explain an arrest to his superiors.
*********************************************************************
10:57 P. M.
Back underground, things were also not going according to plan. As Buffy, her Watcher, the two vampires, and Mario cautiously entered a large candlelit cavern, they were immediately confronted by the sight of Marie strapped to the gurney sitting at the edge of a pit. But Semyaza was nowhere to be seen.
"Hurry, Buffy, free the girl. Angel, take Cash and go with her," instructed Giles.
While peering through the gloom, Mario sagely whispered, "This is too easy."
"Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth," replied the Brit.
Still peering around cautiously, the angel spotted a nearly imperceptible movement from high above. Shouting, "LOOK OUT!" he pushed the Watcher out of the way a split second before a fireball exploded from the darkness, caught him in the chest, and slammed him against a stone wall.
"Hello, Marioch. It’s been a long time." The statement seemed to come from all around.
With his shirt now scorched, Mario had struggled back to his feet when a second blast again pinned him to the wall.
"Not long enough, you sadist!" he spat in reply.
Floating out of the darkness, Semyaza laughed before remarking, "Now, now. . . is that any way to talk to your brother?" Glancing around, he quickly focused on Buffy, Angel and Cash who were attempting to untie Marie.
"Don’t go so soon. The show hasn’t even started yet." With another ball of plasma materializing in the palm of his hand, the fallen angel tossed it in their direction.
"GET DOWN!" shouted Angel while knocking Buffy to the ground as the fiery projectile exploded nearby, blasting the vampire about ten feet across the cavern. The explosion also knocked Marie’s gurney onto its side.
As the Slayer crawled over to Angel, she heard both Marie’s sobbing and a new unidentifiable sound emanating from behind her. Upon reaching the soot-stained vampire, she started shaking him.
"Angel. . . Angel, answer me!"
Slowly opening his yellow tinged eyes, he first muttered, "That guy packs quite a punch," before focusing on a point beyond the girl’s shoulder and recoiling. Seeing the vampire’s eyes widen, Buffy also detected something in him that she rarely saw -- terror.
"Angel what’s wrong?"
As a shadow descended upon her, the girl heard another high-pitched shriek. Turning, she started to remark, "What the. . . ?" when she caught sight of seven scale-covered necks topped by immense horned heads springing from the mouth of the pit.
"OH SHIT!"
This reaction was shared by Nick Boyle who arrived with Derek and Philip through the southern tunnel. Drawing his sword, the Immortal asked, "Just how are we supposed to stop that thing, Derek?" Not receiving a response, he looked over to see both the Precept and priest staring downward, their mouths agape.
"Hey, guys! Don’t zone out on me now!"
Quickly regaining his composure, Derek remarked academically, "It looks like the prophecy is true."
"That’s just great, Derek," replied Nick sarcastically before asking, "Now what are we gonna do about it?"
"Philip?"
Surveying the situation, the priest noticed that the dragon was focused on the still bound Marie.
"It’s waiting to devour the child when it’s born. We must free the girl quickly."
"Oh, yeah? And how do you propose we do that?" asked the Immortal.
"Well, you do have that pig-sticker," suggested the priest.
"You’re nuts! What’s Plan B?"
"We have to rescue her before she delivers, Nick."
"Oh right! So what am I supposed to do? Waltz up and chop off a head. . . or two. . . or three?"
"Well, you’ve done it before, haven’t you?"
"No, Derek, I haven’t! Christ. . . other Immortals, no problem; demons and an occasional succubus, fine; vampires, got them covered too. BUT NEVER A DRAGON! Just look at that thing! Its neck. . . no, make that necks. . . are as thick as a telephone pole."
"We’ll try to distract it so you can get close."
"You’ll try? Gee, thanks."
At that moment, the men were momentarily blinded by an intense flash from above. Looking up, they found the source. Mario and Semyaza, now both airborne and emitting an unearthly glow, were exchanging blows.
"Now there’s something you don’t see every day," remarked Derek.
Starting to cautiously climb downward, Nick retorted, "Yeah, and I didn’t need to see it today either. C’mon, let’s get this over with."
*********************************************************************
11:04 P. M.
Richie Ryan sensed Joshua Whelon’s approach first. Turning, he caught sight of the headhunter stepping out from behind a nearby building.
"This guy has a knack for great timing, I’ve got to say that."
Still not realizing what had the attention of his teacher, Xander started to ask, "Who. . . ?" when the sensation also hit him.
"Ah oh, this is bad. . . VERY BAD."
Drawing his blade, the older Immortal remarked, "You can say that again," before adding, "Stay back, Xander."
"Maybe I can take this guy, Richie."
"Don’t argue with me. Go help Buffy and the others. I’ll stay here and deal with him."
"I’ve come for the boy, Ryan," shouted Whelon from across the lawn.
"Well, isn’t that just tough."
As Xander reluctantly headed for the mouth of the tunnel, two shots rang out. Turning back around, he saw Riche fall to his knees before flopping face down in the grass.
"Now that’s much better."
"You shot him, you bastard!"
With a smile on his face, Whelon placed the gun back in his jacket pocket before raising the sword held in his other hand. Then, taking a few steps toward Ryan’s body he asked, "Now, are you going to accept my challenge or do I play golf with your teacher’s head?"
Drawing his own weapon, Xander took a few tentative swipes.
"They say you never forget your first time, Harris. . . assuming you’re still alive, that is."
Now annoyed, the teen replied, "Hey, buddy. . . less mouth and more action!"
Replying, "Fine. Have it your way, boy," Whelon sprung forward.
*********************************************************************
11:07 P. M.
Back down in the cavern, Buffy had crawled behind a outcropping of rock about ten feet from Marie. Nearby, her two undead acquaintances had also taken cover. With seven snapping heads whipping around near ground level, the reason for their caution was obvious.
"Any suggestions, guys?"
"Don’t get eaten," replied Angel dryly.
"No shit," answered the Slayer. "Any other thoughts?"
Just at that moment, one of the serpentine appendages expelled a stream of fire in their direction.
"Yeah. And don’t get fried," remarked Cash, crouching lower.
"That’s just great, and I didn’t wear my asbestos panties today," Buffy sniffed.
Meanwhile, back up on the ledge, Derek and Philip had linked up with Giles.
"We have to distract that thing so Nick and the others can rescue the girl."
Flinching from a sudden screech from below and a violent rumble from the clashing angels above, Giles inquired, "And just how would you suggest we accomplish that, Derek?"
Looking around, the Precept noticed that several large boulders had worked themselves loose from the ceiling and walls and were sitting precariously near the edge of the precipice.
"We’ll finish what nature has already started."
Realizing what the Legacy member was suggesting, the Watcher remarked incredulously , "You’re not serious. We’ll cause a cave-in."
Starting toward the rock pile with the priest close behind, the Frenchman replied, "That’s what I’m hoping for."
As another flash cast shadows wildly about the cavern, Giles again glanced upward at Mario and Semyaza. Silhouetted against the walls, he could also make out wildly thrashing wings that were otherwise invisible. Wicked looking weapons had also mysteriously appeared in their hands.
"Join the Watchers and see the world. . . bloody hell!"
*********************************************************************
11:09 P. M.
"You can’t win, Marioch. The prophesy will be fulfilled and He will rise."
Semyaza underscored this statement by slashing at his opponent with a scythe topped with a three-foot curved blade. Catching it between two points of his trident, Mario forced his opponent’s weapon downward.
"You and your master will be sent back to Hell where you belong!" the other angel roared back as fireballs boiled up from below, setting his clothes on fire.
"You’re outnumbered here, Marioch. As you can see, I brought a friend."
While once again blocking another swipe from the scythe, Mario seemed oblivious to the fact that his clothes were being consumed by the flames. Glancing down at the beast, he calmly remarked, "In case you haven’t noticed, Semyaza, I brought some friends too," before grabbing the other angel by the throat and forcing him toward the nearest wall.
*********************************************************************
11:13 P. M.
Not as fluid as his opponent, Xander was holding his own until Whelon blocked a thrust and slugged him in the gut. Retreating toward the hyena house, the teen shielded his stomach and struggled to catch his breath.
"Looking a little green around the gills there, Harris."
Now regretting the four chili dogs he had downed earlier in the evening, the young Immortal, fresh out of witty remarks, replied, "Just shut the hell up, you prick."
"Who are you calling a hick, city boy?"
With the cackling of hyenas ringing in his ears, Xander cautiously moved away from their enclosure.
"I said prick, not hick. . . oh, screw it!"
As the duel continued, Whelon pressed the attack to the teen’s still sensitive midsection. Eventually grazing him on the right forearm, he immediately moved to capitalize on Xander’s wound by trying a stabbing motion that was turned back. Now backed against a brick wall, Xander forced Whelon back with a series of determined thrusts. To his credit, the older Immortal blocked them all, except one that dug deeply into his right thigh.
Screaming, he instantly reacted by connecting with a left hook to Xander’s jaw. With the young Immortal momentarily stunned, Whelon took the opportunity to limp away. Meanwhile, trying to shake off the blow, Xander tasted blood from where his teeth had cut the inside of his lip.
"Come back here, you scumbag!"
Sensing an opening, Xander thought he could end it entirely. Following close on the heels of the now limping Whelon, he tried to again stab him in the leg when the man spun around, nearly knocking the sword out of his hand with a savage slash. Then, pulling a previously hidden knife from his coat, he stabbed Xander in the left shoulder.
While still holding on to the hilt of the short blade, Whelon started twisting it for emphasis, causing Xander to fall to his knees.
"Now it ends, Yankee boy!"
With tears rolling down his cheeks, the teen thought he would pass out when he heard a man’s voice command, "Federal agent. . . drop your weapons!"Momentarily distracted, Whelon cast a sideways glance at the newcomer, squinting into the intense beam of a flashlight. However, the interruption provided just enough time for Xander to reflexively bring up his sword in a baseball-style swing.
"Hey, kid, that means you too," Mulder added.
Realizing he had made a serious tactical mistake -- namely taking his eyes off his opponent -- Whelon instantly whipped back around to face Xander. Instead, all he saw was an object, glinting in the moonlight, heading for his head.
As Whelon’s body collapsed to the ground, the teen heard himself screaming, "DIE ASSHOLE!"
Rushing up, Mulder saw what had just happened and trained his weapon on the teen.
"Stay right there. You’re under arrest."
After dropping his sword, Xander reached for the knife still protruding from his chest. With his teeth clenched, he pulled the blade out with an animalistic scream that sent the nearby hyenas into a frenzy.
"Yeah, guys. . . I know how you feel."
Reaching for his cell phone, Mulder started dialing 911 when he noticed a white mist materializing around Whelon’s body. He also heard the teen remark, "I’d move back if I were you, mister."
"I said you’re under arrest. Stay where you are."
"Fine. . . but don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Feeling a static electric discharge from his gun, Mulder glanced down and noticed the hairs standing on his hands and arms. Before he could react further, a lightning bolt came crashing down.
*********************************************************************
11:15
"Can’t you untie her faster?"
"Hey, we’re doing the best we can," replied Buffy.
Slashing away at the dragon, Nick shot back, "Then do better!"
"What is that thing?" Marie managed to ask between contractions as Angel, Buffy and Cash worked to free her.
"Don’t ask," replied the Slayer, struggling with the straps and ropes holding her legs and wrists.
"Look out!" yelled Cash as a spiked tail slammed down next to the gurney.
"That’s it," stated Angel, "forget about untying the girl. We’ll take the whole damn thing out of here with her on it. Buffy, you and Cash grab that end."
As they started rolling the gurney toward the tunnel opening, they heard a loud screech. Turning, Buffy saw one of the dragon’s heads, now severed, wiggling around on the floor. Meanwhile, Derek, Giles and Philip were preparing to drop the boom on the remaining six.
"NICK, LOOK OUT!" Derek shouted from above.
Looking up, the Immortal saw what the three men were attempting. As a fireball roared past his head, singeing his hair, he attempted to roll out of the way as a rain of rocks came cascading down with an earsplitting roar. When the dust finally settled, the monster was under tons of rock, sealed once again within the pit. However, Nick was immobile on the floor, a large blood-stained stone near his skull. Seeing what had transpired, Angel told Buffy to help Cash get the girl to safety while he went to aid the injured Immortal.
Semyaza, meantime, was not a happy camper. After managing to free himself from Mario’s grasp, he looked down to see his beast buried and his sacrifice being spirited away.
"You can’t have the girl!"
Swooping down toward Buffy and the others, the angel momentarily paused as a hail of bullets rippled through his body. Searching for the culprits, Semyaza quickly spotted Derek and Giles holding a pistol and a revolver, respectively, pointed in his direction. Raising the scythe menacingly, he asked "You mortals think you can stop me?"
"No, but I can."
Turning, Semyaza saw Mario heading straight for him, his trident aimed like a spear. Catching him in the neck, they plummeted down toward the pile of rocks covering the now dormant Hellmouth. Upon hitting the ground, their weapons were knocked from their grasp with the scythe skidding across the cave and stopping at Angel’s feet.
While the two creatures continued to struggle, with Mario straddling the prone Semyaza, the vampire picked up the massive weapon and started moving toward them. From his back, Semyaza spotted Angel approaching and, fixing his gaze upon him, attempted to cloud his mind. Hearing a commanding voice in his head, the vampire began to stumble forward like a puppet on a string.
Looking back from the tunnel portal, Buffy saw what was happening. Releasing the gurney, she ran back into the cave as Cash called after her, "Hey, where are you going?"
With dark blood oozing from numerous punctures, gashes and outright stab wounds, Mario and Semyaza nonetheless continued to alternately choke, bash and shred each other with talon-like fingernails. In addition, Mario was burned courtesy of numerous fireballs directed at him by both the more powerful angel and the now buried hydra-headed beast.
"Join me, Marioch. We’ll rule this world together."
Continuing to strangle the Domination into submission, Mario replied, "It’s not your world to rule."
With the vampire now standing over the two angels, and Buffy still about 30 feet away, Semyaza saw his opportunity. With his fangs flashing in the unnatural glow, he commanded, "DESTROY HIM! DO IT NOW!"
Feeling a hand grasp his shoulder, Mario’s head started to turn just as he was pulled clear of the still struggling Semyaza. In another second, he had rolled onto his back just as Angel raised the immense blade over his head.
Now with both divine beings laying at his feet and Buffy leaping in a last ditch effort to stop him, Angel saw Semyaza’s eyes widen and heard him scream, "NO! I'M YOUR MASTER!"
Bringing the blade down in a wide arc, the vampire felt practically no resistance as the scythe sliced cleanly through everything in its path. A moment later, as an energy surge rocketed around the cavern before disappearing through the overhanging rocks, Angel had allowed the weapon to drop when a booted foot suddenly caught him in the chest, sending him sprawling. Momentarily stunned, he slowly shook his head from side to side. Then, taking in the extremely gory mess before him, he asked, "What. . . what happened?"
Rising, Mario remarked, "Semyaza forgot about your soul." Then, glancing down at the disassociated limbs, he added, "He’ll never do that again."
While helping Buffy to her feet, the vampire asked, "You were actually controlling me instead of him, weren’t you?"
With a grin, Mario replied, "I couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, Angel. Free will, remember?"
Just then, they heard an accented voice ask from the ledge above, "Buffy, are you alright?"
Looking around, the Slayer noticed the immobile Immortal still laying nearby.
"Giles, tell Derek and Philip that Nick’s been hurt."
As the men slowly descended from above, Angel took hold of her hand and whispered, "Let’s get the hell out of here."
*********************************************************************
11:17 P. M.
As lightning continued to lance around the zoo, Fox Mulder took cover to avoid being struck. Looking toward Xander, he saw the teen violently convulsing as electrical bolts surrounded and occasionally entered his body, causing him to scream. He was entranced by the events unfolding before him when he unexpectedly heard a woman shout, "What’s happening, Mulder?" Turning, he caught sight of his partner, about 15 feet away, who was holding onto the trunk of a tree to avoid being swept away by the gale force wind.
"Damned if I know, Scully! It just came out of nowhere!"
As he said this, the maelstrom rapidly subsided, leaving Xander on his knees, a glazed expression on his face, panting for air. As the two agents cautiously approached him, guns drawn, Mulder spoke first.
"Get your hands up. . . whatever you are!"
Scully, meanwhile, quickly determined that Whelon was dead -- his head lying about two feet from the rest of his body was the major tip off -- before kneeling over Richie unmoving form.
"There’s another one over here, Mulder. It looks like he was shot in the chest."
"Dead?"
Straightening up, she answered, "Yes," before heading back to where Mulder was holding Xander at gunpoint.
"What happened here, Mulder? It looks ritualistic."
Searching his photographic memory, he stated, "There are cases like this on file back in the office, Scully. From what I remember, the bureau believes that people go around chopping each others heads off in the belief that they will achieve immortality. . . much as the Aztecs believed that devouring the hearts of their enemies would increase their prowess in battle." Then, while looking down at Xander, he asked, "Am I close?"
Still shaky from the Quickening, Xander managed to feebly state, "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
Still not ready to accept a supernatural explanation, Scully snapped, "That’s enough, Mulder. It sounds like you’re suggesting a psychiatric defense." However, her attitude quickly changed when she heard moans coming from behind her.
"I thought you said he was dead too, Scully?"
Rushing back to Richie, she got there just as he started to sit up. Grasping his shirt with both hands, she expertly ripped the buttons open to expose his bare chest.
"Hey, lady, I usually like dinner and a movie first."
Ignoring Ryan’s wisecrack, the doctor instead stared as two bullet holes, occasionally crisscrossed with small electrical arcs, continued to shrink and fade before her eyes.
"That’s impossible."
["Oh brother, MacLeod’s gonna kill me this time,"] the Immortal thought to himself.
Just then, as Mulder and Scully were already reeling, Cash rolled Marie out of the nearby tunnel. They were followed in short order by Buffy and Angel, who were supporting each other; Derek and Philip, who were carrying a mortally wounded Nick; and finally Giles and Mario.
Not knowing which way to aim their guns, as they were rapidly being surrounded by murder suspects, Mulder attempted to reach his cell phone.
"Buffy, they’re cops!" yelled Xander.
Within a couple of seconds, Mulder heard a whoosh, followed by a growl, and then felt a hand squeezing his own.
"Drop the gun!"
Startled, the agent was staring at the guy who looked like his face was mangled in the car crash the night before.
"I saw you in the park last night."
"Lucky you. . . now drop the phone too."
As the Nokia hit the grass, Scully spotted the immobile Nick Boyle lying across a bench. Looking at Derek, she asked, "What happened to him?"
"He was injured rescuing the girl."
"Maybe I can help him."
As Philip moved to block her path, Derek stammered, "No. . . no. . . that quite alright, Agent Scully. Nick’s got a remarkably strong. . ."
"Constitution," offered Philip.
"Yes, constitution," agreed the Precept. "He’ll be fine."
As if on cue, the Immortal began to stir. Reaching for his head, he asked, "I hate dying. What the hell fell on my head. . . Mount Rushmore?"
"Oh he’s quite the joker," remarked Derek nervously, "isn’t that right, Nick?"
Turning his head, Boyle spotted Scully for the first time.
"OH SHIT! Hi Dana. . . how long have you been there?"
"Long enough to see that you’re all hiding something. What’s going on here? Who are you people?"
As the assorted Immortals, vampires and Legacy members, not to mention an angel, a Slayer and a Watcher, stared mutely at each other, the silence was finally broken by a bloodcurdling wail. Marie had chosen this moment to go into labor.
"MARIO, THE BABY’S COMING!"
Going to her aid, Mario breezed past Scully, asking "You’re a doctor, right?"
"Yes, but I’m not an obstetrician."
"You are now!"
*********************************************************************
January 16
Midnight
"Congratulations, it’s a healthy baby boy," Scully stated to Marie while bundling him up in Mulder’s suit jacket.
As Dana placed the child in Marie’s outstretched arms, she noticed that the girl was practically beaming in the dim moonlight.
"Thank you, Agent Scully," she heard a male voice whisper. Looking up, she saw Mario standing beside Marie, holding her hand as he had during the entire delivery.
About 20 feet away from the gurney, Fox Mulder was not as relaxed as his partner. Part of the reason for his concern may have been the gag in his mouth. Also not reassuring was the way that Angel and Cash were pointing at him, while heatedly discussing something. For all Mulder knew, he was surrounded by the Manson family.
"This is a very bad idea!" stated Cash flatly.
"So what do you suggest?"
"Angel, you know what WE can do."
"No, we’re going to give Giles’ plan a try. And anyhow. . . it doesn’t always work on everyone."
With an annoyed glance at the two vampires, Giles said, "We’re not going to hurt you, Mr. Mulder. From what Derek tells me, you seem like a reasonably open-minded man."
"Open-minded, my ass," the Watcher heard Nick whisper.
"Now if we remove the gag, will you promise not to scream again?"
His eyes wide, Mulder nodded.
"Very well then," remarked the Brit while slipping the cloth over Mulder’s head. "Now, since we can’t allow you to arrest young Mr. Harris over there, we’re going to attempt something that we usually avoid at all costs."
"What’s that?" asked the still tense agent.
"We’re going to tell you the truth."
*********************************************************************
12:15 A. M.
"Hold it. Now let me get this straight. You’re a vampire killer. . ."
"Actually, ‘Slayer’ is the preferred term," corrected Buffy.
"And you’re a vampire," Mulder added, turning to face Angel.
"Uh huh. . . notice the fangs."
"No shit. So why hasn’t she slayed you?"
"A question I’ve asked many times," remarked Xander from several feet away.
Ignoring him, Buffy replied, "It’s a kinda long story. . . that would probably bore you."
Now addressing Giles, he asked, "And you said that you’re her. . . ?"
"Watcher."
"Which means what exactly?"
"I serve as Buffy’s guide and counsel. I also assist in her training."
Looking the girl first up and then down, Mulder remarked, "Sounds like a real tough job. . . for an old guy."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hold it, I’m confused," stated Scully. "If this evil portal. . . what did you call it?"
"Hellmouth," several voices offered.
"Fine. . . if this Hellmouth is in Sunnydale, then why is the Legacy in San Francisco?"
"Allow me to answer that," Derek explained, "although the Hellmouth does tend to focus paranormal activity here, there are many incidents around the globe that warrant our attention."
Turning to Nick, Scully asked, "Why didn’t you tell me? Mulder thought you were running some kind of smuggling operation."
"I didn’t tell you, Dana, because we’re sworn to secrecy. We only reveal the Legacy’s existence under extraordinary circumstances."
"Such as this?"
"Yep."
"And what’s your story?" Mulder asked Xander and Richie.
After glancing at each other, Xander remarked to the redhead, "Go ahead teach."
Exhaling, Ryan stated simply, "We’re Immortals."
"Immortals. . . as in living forever?"
"Bingo."
"You’re telling me that you’ll never die."
"Actually it’s not that simple."
"I’m listening," prompted Mulder.
"You remember that lightning storm you saw before?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that was the result of one of us dying. . . by decapitation." Pointing at Whelon’s body, Richie stated, "That guy was evil. It was either Xander or him. . . self defense."
"I don’t know if the courts will see it that way," Mulder stated flatly.
"OK, who’s left?" Indicating Mario, Marie and the newborn, Scully asked Giles, "What’s their story?"
"He’s an angel."
"I thought you said he’s Angel?"
"Wait, stop. . . you’re confused. That guy over there is AN angel."
"You’re not serious."
"Mulder, they’ve told us about vampires, demons, Watchers and Slayers. What’s so hard to believe about an angel?"
With the two agents, joined by the others, now focusing on the new family, the light radiating from the supernova in the sky above suddenly intensified, casting a glow over the field. Then, in a blinding flash, the three were gone.
"You would think the guy would have at least said thank you," snipped Xander.
"I don’t believe it," stated Mulder.
"I do," remarked Scully.
"Just wait till I write this up. Skinner won’t believe it either."
Overhearing this remark, Giles stated, "No, Mr. Mulder, you must never record what we’ve disclosed to you. It would be extremely. . . unfortunate. . . for all parties concerned."
"Sorry, but I can’t do that, Mr. Giles. You’ve given us the opportunity to close dozens of unsolved cases. Scully and I have been working years for this opportunity."
"I knew it, the guy’s a prick!" exclaimed Nick.
"Please, Agent Mulder. . . be reasonable. Without anonymity, we’d be ineffective in our mission," implored Derek. "In fact, we could all be endangered."
"Mulder, maybe they’re right," remarked Scully. "We should probably think about this."
While replying, "I think you’re overreacting, Dr. Rayne," Mulder turned and found himself staring into a pair of golden eyes belonging to Angel. He instantly froze in place.
A few feet away, Scully was similarly transfixed by Cash.
"Sorry, Giles. We can’t risk their exposing the Masquerade. . . or anything else."
*********************************************************************
Outskirts of Sunnydale, California
7:02 A. M.
As the sun rose majestically over southern California, its first rays began to warm the sleeping occupants of the car sitting on the side of the road. The woman woke first.
"Mulder? Mulder. . . wake up."
"I don’t wanna go to school, mom."
Now shaking her partner, Scully repeated, "Wake up, Mulder!"
With a start, he opened his eyes, squinting at the light streaming through the windshield.
"Where are we, Scully?"
Rubbing her forehead, the woman hesitated before replying, "I’m not sure, Mulder. I remember we landed, checked in with the San Francisco office and then. . . I just can’t seem to remember."
Looking around, the man concurred, remarking, "Yeah, that’s right. Skinner sent us out here to investigate the murders at that motel. But I. . . damn. . . it’s all a blank. Where are we, anyhow?"
Looking down the road, Scully noticed a colorful sign.
[You Are Now Leaving Sunnydale. Come Back Soon. ]
"Some place called Sunnydale, Mulder. Wherever that is."
With a look of disdain, Mulder asked, "What the hell’s in Sunnydale?"
*********************************************************************
Sunnydale City Hall
9:00 A. M.
"Mr. Mayor, that girl, Buffy Summers, assaulted me in my own school. She must be expelled!"
Seated behind his desk, the mayor -- holding a racquet and clad in white shorts and a Polo shirt -- merely asked, "Do you play tennis, Mr. Snyder?"
"Tennis? What does. . . ?"
"Tennis is so relaxing. It takes your mind off life’s petty difficulties."
Now sputtering, the principal replied, "Petty! She tried to kill me! Look at my jaw!"
"You really must learn to unwind, Mr. Snyder. Stress is a killer."
"Now see here, Mr. Mayor. Buffy Summers is a dangerous delinquent. She HAS to be expelled!"
While taking phantom backhand swings, the mayor answered, "No, she doesn’t. Now if you’ll excuse me. . ."
Having now lost the little patience he had, the principal cut him off, stating, "Well, if you don’t do something, I will. Buffy Summers is gone and so is that troublemaking librarian!"
"You’ll do nothing of the sort, Mr. Snyder."
Surprised, he turned and spotted a middle aged man, dressed in a rumpled suit, seated in a chair on the other side of the room.
"And who the hell are you?"
The unidentified individual took a long drag from a cigarette before replying, "A friend, Mr. Snyder. . . a friend."
"Well, I don’t need any friends, whoever you are."
Now surrounded by a cloud of smoke, the man remarked, "We all need friends, Mr. Snyder. And as your friend, I’m telling you to leave Miss Summers and the librarian alone. We have other plans for them."
"And what if I don’t?"
Savagely snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray, the man answered, "If you don’t, Mr. Snyder, I’ll just have to find myself another friend. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mayor?"
Taking another phantom swipe, he replied, "I couldn’t agree more, CGB."
Hearing this, Principal Snyder gasped.
*********************************************************************
The Bronze
9:31 P. M.
Once again, disaster has been averted atop the Hellmouth. With the music of "Dingoes Ate My Baby," blaring, Willow eyed the stage longingly before turning to her companion.
"What do you think Principal Snyder’s going to do tomorrow, Buffy?"
"Probably try to expel me. . . again."
"Have you told your mom."
"Nah. I don’t think she’d understand assault and battery too well, especially after she got me back in school last time. I guess I’ll just have to face the music, Will." Then, glancing toward the stage, she remarked, "Hey, Oz is really up tonight."
"Yeah," answered Willow, "he’s always that way after a full moon. We think it’s a hormone thing."
"Really? I wonder if anything else is up?" asked the Slayer.
Blushing, the girl started to respond when Xander and Cordelia returned from the dance floor.
"Hey, just what are you two wild and crazy gals talking about?"
"Oh. . . nothing. . . nothing at all, Xander," the teen witch responded a bit too quickly.
"It must be about Oz," noted Cordelia before sitting down."I’m thirsty, Xander. Get me a Coke."
"Hey, what am I, a waiter?"
With a stare that could’ve killed, Cordy instantly conveyed her opinion. Seeing this, the boy’s head slumped between his shoulders.
"Do you want regular or diet?" he asked, defeated.
"Make it diet decaffeinated. I’ve got to watch my weight."
As Xander slinked out of earshot, Buffy asked the cheerleader, "Did Xander mention what happened last night?"
"Well, he said that he fought some other guy with a sword."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Yeah, that he won. Like duh, I mean if he lost, he wouldn’t be there to tell me about it, would he?"
"No, no, that’s not what we mean," Willow clarified, "did he say anything about that lightning stuff?"
"It’s strange," remarked Cordelia. "He didn’t want to talk about it. I wonder why?"
"Guess, it’s kinda personal," Buffy concluded.
Meanwhile, at the bar, Xander hooked up with Angel and Cash while waiting for Cordy’s drink.
"So where’s Ryan and Dawson," asked the elder vampire.
"They went back to Seacouver. Richie had to pick up MacLeod at the airport and Dawson had some kind of Watcher meeting tonight."
"What about Nick and Derek?"
"I’m not really sure. Nick had a bad headache and Derek said something about a strange package being delivered to the Legacy house today. They left in a pretty big hurry."
"So have you talked to anyone about last night?" inquired Angel.
"Nah."
"Why not?"
"I don’t know. . . it just feels kinda weird. I didn’t sleep too well last night."
"Guess not," stated Cash.
"Well if you want to talk about it, you know the address," remarked Angel.
Replying, "Thanks," the teen then noticed Cordelia angrily motioning to him.
"Oh, shit! Queen C wants her drink. . . like yesterday!" Xander quickly snatched the glass up from the bar and rushed back to the table.
Peering across the club, Cash remarked, "She’s got that boy whipped."
"Yeah, Cordy’s a real piece of work."
"I wasn’t taking about Cordelia."
"What? You mean Buffy?"
"Ah huh."
"Hey, I’m not whipped!" Angel remarked defensively.
"Yeah, right, whatever you say," responded the Gangrel.
"No, I’m serious. Our relationship is based on mutual trust and respect."
"Sure it is."
Now getting angry, the older vampire remarked, "Oh and look who’s talking. . . Mr. I Lost My One True Love and Now I’m a Lone Wolf."
"Am not," replied Cash.
"No? So prove it."
"Fine, I will. It just so happens that I met a great girl here the other night. She’s really into bikes and I think we’ll have some fun together."
"She’s human?"
"Of course, she’s human. What kinda question is that?"
"So when do you plan on telling her about your little. . . condition?" asked Angel.
"I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. How did Buffy find out about you?"
"When I vamped out in her bedroom."
"Oh. . . that wasn’t very slick."
"No, Cash, it was. . . awkward. . . to say the least."
Glancing over Angel’s shoulder, the Gangrel excitedly remarked, "Hey, here she comes! Now remember, don’t embarrass me."
As a leather-clad girl stepped into view, Cash began the introductions.
"Angel, I’d like you to meet. . ."
"Faith," the vampire finished the statement.
"You!" the Slayer hissed.
His smile quickly fading, the younger vampire asked, "Hey, you guys know each other?"
As one relationship was hitting the rocks, about 20 feet away another was just beginning. With the band having finished a set, Oz quickly placed his instrument down. Spotting Willow and Buffy, he started walking toward them when his path was suddenly blocked by a man dressed mostly in black leather.
"Hey, those were some pretty good sounds you were making up there."
"Thanks," replied the teen.
"Would you be interested in making some extra bucks on the side? I’m the unofficial talent scout for a club up north."
"Sure," remarked Oz. "Assuming it’s legit and all."
"Oh yeah, it’s legit," remarked the long-haired stranger. "But you’ll need your own wheels to get there."
"How far north are we talking?"
"Port Columbia. Is that a problem?"
Shaking his head from side to side, Oz quickly answered, "Nah, we’ve gone farther than that."
Handing him a business card, the man remarked, "Good. I’ll see you soon."
After glancing down to examine the piece of cardboard, the teen looked back up only to realize that the stranger had disappeared.
Shrugging, Oz continued over to the table occupied by his friends.
"Who was that, Wolfy?"
"Some guy from a club. He wants us to play there."
"That’s great, Oz. Congratulations," stated Buffy.
"Yeah, when you’re rich and famous, remember us poor folk," quipped Xander.
"Speak for yourself, middle class boy," snapped Cordelia.
Excited, Willow then asked, "Who was he?"
Looking back down at the card, the teen noted the word "Blackout" inscribed in large red stylized letters above a telephone number. Flipping the card over, he read a name aloud, "Eric Draven."
"Huh. . . now why does that name sound familiar?" Oz asked aloud.
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That’s All Folks (Or Is It?)