Story Name: Post

Story Name: Post

Summary: Set early after season seven. The new watchers council is now in its infantry and beginning to flourish. Things finally seemed sorted out and Buffy finally is a bit unshaken from the apocalypse until she gets a package with a certain amulet inside.

Story Summary: Meet out messenger Noah and our package with a surprise inside.

Authors Notes:I think this has been done before but I'm twisting it around because its what I do. Anyway please review. D Stormiie

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Set in October 2003, after apocalypse in London England.

Chapter 1 – Noah.

Noah's heart was on fire.

The night was newborn almost, the sun had just been eaten up by the horizon exploding in spans of livid oranges and vibrant reds. London night air always seemed chillier than any other country, though it was only in the early stages of fall, the air was already bitter and chilling. Wrapping his deep pocketed coat around his quivering figure, Noah darted his eyes between streets feeling his heart ache and eat away once another flickering flash of blue lights was thrown into the starry night sky. The frosty air whipped over his face as he crouched behind the few pillars of a grubby alleyway. He could feel his heart flutter and ricochet off the barricades of his ribcage, once an slick black BMW gloss its way across the brick English road.
"God, so close…" He whispered gently beneath his breath and squirreled his way across another empty brick road once again clinging and hiding behind a thick white light pole. Sneaking around to peek and see if a fellow BMW was trotting behind him. "Damn how am I going to go to the airport, rolling around as if I'm in mission impossible!?" He whispered harshly beneath his breath. Despite the maybe not so well thought plan kinks, the plan was thought to have some heavy backup to it. Ha, like that would ever happen.
Noah now seated at his sturdy lighting pole was pondering over this situation. Where was his back up men? His whole society all gone… like that? No. That couldn't be it. But once Noah turned his head seated on his shoulder (it being tense and not so comfortable sadly) shifted his eyes over the vacant brick English road – and he knew.

That he really was alone.

And that the chance of rolling from pole to pole to seven miles….

Wouldn't work.

With those disturbing thoughts burrowed inside his brain Noah leaned back a bit farther to readjust his glasses ruffle his black hair and feel his heartbeat maybe settle inside his ribcage. Yeah right. Recalling an age-old technique that was so simple yet so effective which his Shrink had called up at one point when he was having one of his weekly panic attacks – clutching his heart and breathing like a mad man. Counting to ten.

One.

Now since Noah was sure that the airport was out of the question, which meant no L.A. which meant no Angel, which also meant that the package was in deep shit. Where else would it go? Thumbing the blunting corners he breathed in and tried to evoke the lost words of his boss well up inside him. "Didn't have much allies, but there are two that can help him. One who shouldn't ever meet him again, another who is a long lost friend that isn't welcome. Now, we should know who to choose. Hmm?"

Such a kind, angry man our boss is…. Noah thought and then immediately turned to his backpack behind him fumbling with the zipper and a leather bound notebook he pillaged though it to find all the pages empty except for two addresses and a few notes badly scribbled alongside them.

Two.

The first one had been highlighted and beside it was written Located in California Los Angeles. So that proved to be the problem yes. The second one, not highlighted but crossed out but still legible beneath the bold black marker line said Birch Street.

And that was three blocks away.

Hearing a plane roar and grumble overhead Noah knew he had a decision to make. Pushing up his glasses that seemed determined to crawl off his nose he began to ponder when a low growling sound hummed nearby and he leaned over to turn and see who the intruder. Please let it not be a black BMW…..damn.

Three.

No time to think, time to MOVE! Noah scrambled back up stuffing his notebook back into his bag and hurdling it over his shoulder hugging the precious package to his chest he felt his breathing begin to pick up once more and he breathed slow to make it run down once more.

Four.

Now, time to go. Before the snarling BMW noticed his presence he bounded off into the darkness of the next street. Screw L.A. there was no way he could bloody well make it there. Nope, he had to go to this forbidden second address, didn't matter the consequences that his boss would surely pull and seduce on him. If they didn't want the amulet to fall into the hands of their dreaded enemy Noah would have to give it up.

Five.

Scuttling down the next few paves the BMW noted him due to its perking and lighting up once it saw Noah scamper his not-so-merry way through those brick roads. It pulled into reverse and then back into a gnawing drive, pawing its way towards him. So close, so so close… Noah's brain ricochet and barricaded all over his skull once he began to take fleeing to the next level. Now hurling the bag over his shoulder and into his knobby fingers he ripped it open and plunged his hand inside to relieve it of a black pointed nose weapon. A dark shining revolver.

Oh my god. Six. Oh my god.

Boss had handed it over and noted drastically that it was ONLY for emergencies and as Noah pointed and aimed it backwards he knew this was as dangerous as it was going to get. The BMW immediately knew of the guns purpose and with that had once of its slick tinted windows peel down to reveal a darkly tan hand also armed with an revolver begin to shoot directly towards Noah who clumsily avoided them with a miracle. Noah now REALLY worried tried as hard as he could to sprint away down his destination down three blocks and to aim his revolver to shoot at his offender. I'm already a bad shot! He cursed blindly.

Seven.

Bam. That's all it took. One shot ate its way into the BMW's inside hand was scarred and bloody a deep gash inside of it, another to shatter the once dark and glossy windshield to shards of glass, and one other to slam Noah right between his elbow and forearm.

"HOLY-BLOODY HELL!" Noah screeched out halting to cradle his arm that was now slimy and dripping in red hot droplets of blood. His forehead immediately broke out in condensation and large beads of sweat dropped down his face in a rage. The pain almost unbearable he twisted and knotted his face so he could strain it and divert the pain to another meeker one but it was of no use the bullet wound was now so deeply implanted inside of him there was no way of shaking it off or prying it out which was his next move when a sound alerted him to turn a shoulder and leer at his offender. Though the shot had definitely slowed the enemy down as the hand was plunged back inside what Noah could imagine leather black interior it had recovered quicker then Noah could imagine. For he was kneeling in the grubby night road clutching his wounded arm and bawling his head off his package and revolver both scattered upon the road, while the car was geared back into life another hand popping from the drivers side this time in a thick glove with a bigger revolver. No time to dilly dally that was for sure.

HOLY FUCKING CRAP. Eight. OW, OW, BLEEDING OW.

Noah despite the burning and blinding pain that was circulating in the core of his arm clambered back up stumbling as he stretched over groping for the gun and package. He wedged the package to his limp arm and armpit then reached the gun behind him waving the gun like a lunatic and pulling the trigger madly.
The bullets were flying like snowfall but deadlier and speedier. Noah was afraid of his reckless behavior but he had not much of a choice now, he was not shielded by a large expensive machine to cloak him from bullets. But, he did have what was precious to both parties, and it would stay that way – that was for sure. So since he had the package and not a cloak, he needed to be a bit reckless to maybe scamper away from these fools? Not something he was sure his mentor and boss would advise but… Noah decided he'd gnaw on his own advice for now, decided that right now his instinct proved more of value then long informational lectures that had inspired him. Instinct was singing stronger. And it said not only to turn but to shoot the tires equipped on that black BMW.
Nine.

Yes. God hell yes. When the screech of air escaping met his ears he was near singing and the eating pain that chafed in his bones was for a moment forgotten because the BMW behind him was now blubbering and choking to a curdling stop that included with the revolver the enemy attained clicked to show that it was out of bullets. YES. Noah then began to race even harder, his heart pumping, innards hurdling and swirling inside him. He felt so nauseous that he could've somersaulted right there and fallen asleep the package and black nosed weapon cuddled beside him as if some sick kind of security blanket. But no, he would have to push himself until he could flop his way over onto the second addresses placemat no matter and then push the precious package inside of the door then he could keel over tend his wound and sleep for God knows how long but for now, he must run.
Once he felt as if that he might puke up his insides from the cramps that were bristling into his legs and die from rapid blood loss he made it onto the second addresses home. A run down apartment complex the apartments grimy and soiled smelling, gray encrusted windows complete with dreary curtains and ragged doors and softening brick It was all too…. low. How could the next-to-first owner of the precious package be located here? Normally Noah would survey the situation. Certainly Birch street was miswritten or read wrong. But now, the pain was too intense and the feeling crawling up his throat was almost unbearable and he would cling to any hope that this would be the end of his long and tiring mission.

The complex must've been very cheap for there was no attendant nor was there any kind of security present at the building but this was no issue as of now, and Noah almost sprinted up the three flights of stairs and scrambled over to that God forsaken number 493. Thank you Jesus.

Ten. Done….

After slipping the precious package inside after giving a quick peek to see if it was harmed in any way (there was nothing but a bit of dirt.) he peeled off the sticker that read the first addresses and messily wrote down the second one, not bothering to notice that it had a post mark saying to L.A. Then slipping it into the mail slot with an proud smile slick on his face.

He ruffled his dark hair pulled his glasses up back onto his nose and tore off the hem of his white T-shirt now shrouded in black mossy blood. He wrapped a tight bound around the wound to halt the bleeding and flinch at the pain then limped off to find shelter. Surely the gunshots were heard and alerted by the neighbors the police have probably already been contacted and most of all there were probably people scattered in the streets looking for the unusually short man with black hair and glasses fleeing the scene of the crime with a bloody infection of some sort.

Not to mention his enemy might've send out back ups to finish the job. Noah grinned.

He was just happy to get rid of that damn package.

No one likes being delivery boy.

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Andrew was feeling way under appreciated.

This is a bunch of crap. After all he had done he STILL was the outsider the 'annoying' one, the over eccentric one, the evil one! Andrew groaned and tightened his crimson ruby red robe around him as he guzzled down a few chugs of orange juice. They should know by now that he was formerly evil! With all his good doings! Teaming up with the slayer, fighting the last apocalypse, not falling back into the First's clutches. Hadn't he shown enough to prove his innocence and justify his now…. do-goodyness? (A/N Oh, oh, oh being Andrew is MUCH fun! D) He even put up that gosh darn board to explain their fight so organized…. He even used the non smelly markers so he wouldn't stink up the now buried basement.

But oh no, no, no.

It was all 'Do this Andrew', and 'Fetch me this Andrew.' and 'Its none of your business Andrew.'!! I should by now be included in Scooby meetings! Right? I've already been in the Scoobies for a year…. Even though there really isn't much of a 'Scooby gang' anymore…. Andrew pondered once he returned over to his bedroom to cuddle and rest a bit more in the plush pillows of his. The gang didn't really last long after the apocalypse both Willow and Xander left in a flash, which left the not-so-alone Slayer in fits of bubbly tears shoving Andrew from the doorway saying 'Andrew just get out! I don't need any of this!' slamming the mahogany door in his baffled face. No one appreciated his advice, trying to contact UFO XY had always been a calming thing for him! The Slayer had been incredibly broody after the giant fight, once finding out that Spike the vampire that Buffy seemed strangely infatuated with had died she seemed to have shut herself from the world. For three whole weeks she was dead bolted in her room, upset and crying rarely but usually she had an eerie silence around her. The kind of silence that you could feel choke you, and that was so heavy and pregnant you had to scatter away with hopes that some sort of distraction might tear you away. Hardly changing, but taking numerous showers, and swallowing a large amount of Wheatie Bits which Andrew found quite odd and unsettling. He really liked them with cheese…

After those few strange and fitful weeks Buffy and Giles both scrambled together to devise what seemed a plan for a new council one where not only Watchers but Slayers are in control and where they can create armies of young well trained Slayers to maybe demolish most of the demon race. So the two began to gather youthful unsuspecting Slayers together to train and surviving Watcher and to-be Watchers which included Dawn and Andrew…. well hopefully Andrew… he hadn't asked yet.

Buffy also found it a bit unstable to be living off of Anya's payments from her retail and decided to send that off to Xander to wherever the hell he was and get a job. At first she was considering waitresing, or her old high school job counseling. But the counseling job had been more of a set up for her than an actual proving of her skills and once she started talking about waitresing she kept babbling about someone named Anne. Of course Andrew wouldn't know too much since he was only listening through the keyhole to listen to the wages of Dawn and Buffy's discussions.

So in the end, though she despised it so, she decided to revive the old Magic Box with Giles. And even with her hatred for retail she did a satisfactory job, nowhere good as the giddy Anya was but… she survived.

Andrew dug himself deeper into the confines of his pillow to shut out the thoughts prickling his brain and try to drift back into that nice sleep he had had ten minutes ago if it wasn't for Dawn's sudden hiccup. Andrew turned his head to reveal another twin bed ten feet from him laying a young teenage girl with dreads of tangled brown hair over her face snoring softly. Dawn and Buffy argued constantly over Dawn's feelings with sharing a room with Andrew, but Buffy was rock solid saying that she didn't feel comfortable enough to sleep in the same room with someone. Even a sister. Andrew had no complaints, it was cute to watch how Dawn breathed fast and soft like a field mouse, the only thing he relished was the fact of Dawn's occasional loud hiccup or snore and the fact that she liked to hog the room with what felt like eternities while she was held up choosing and mismatching her outfits. And hey, he was clumsy at times and occasionally he'll leave some half eaten pizza under his roommates pillow….but its never like he plans to anyway! Andrew rolled over relentlessly peering into the eerie green glow of the alarm clock resting beside his bed. Six stinking thirty in the morning and he couldn't even feel an eye lap closed. It could be the faint pops he had been hearing snap into his ears all night until recently an hour ago. They had kept him alert and curious, at multiple times he peeked from out the dust covered blinds (which Buffy had been complaining about being dusted the past two weeks) But nothing came out to jump out into Andrews scrunched face. Andrew thought at first that if the fading pops would just come to a stop he could settle back into sleep but once they ended he found himself even MORE curious and even MORE aware of his surroundings. Darn you jinx. So all-night he had pittered-pattered across the apartment flat watching bits of muted tv as he practiced his awesome skill of reading lips (can finally understand 'glass' from 'ass' Hah.) Even tried to break himself into the sandy binds of a leather bound book for….a few minutes.

But anyway!

Sleep had been fitful and in handfuls to Andrew and now that he felt some what settled due to the large amounts of orange juice plundering around in his belly, he was going to darn well sure going to make the most of it. Snuggling deeper and deeper into the pitfall of his pillows and Star Trek comforter that he had been lucky enough to stash away inside the bus before the whole Sunnydale clashed together, he felt his eyes begin to droop. Long and large steady breathes now emitted from him and most of all that feeling of bliss was beginning to coat him. Oh sweet, sweet slumber here I come!
Ucccccckgh.

"Goshdarnnit Dawn!" He groaned and lashed out to her as he flipped the comforter from his legs and leered with light baby blue eyes at Dawn who was now beginning to drool upon the pillow her head rested on. Not even phased. Such a stinking heavy sleeper, why can't I do that!! His mind snarled as he stumbled out of bed and tried to messily remake it. Glancing to the clock he saw it read 6:45 now, which meant in about fifteen minutes even if he did manage to curl back to sleep Buffy and Dawn would be aroused from their sleep by the loud and sudden squeals of their alarm clocks, one of them (if he managed through that too) would then shake him awake and make him face the day. Lets just face it, it wasn't worth it.

Andrew shed his crimson favored robe revealing beneath some Twilight Zone (A/N I want some of these x3) pajamas - I like the be warm! London's cold! - undressed those too and put on some groovy Hawaiian shirt he had revived from his last visit to Mexico with Jonathan and some faded jeans. Stepped out of his bedroom with glazed and dazzled eyes as he scanned alongside for his leftover orange juice that was resting upon the counter table. Gulping down the last few drops he felt the sweet salty rinse that felt like satin coating his parched throat. Lately since they moved to London's chilly air, Andrew's throat has been suspiciously sore most of the time. The air dryer here and more humid than in Sunnydale (or even Mexico) so he felt a bit sore most of the time.

Hey what the….

Once Andrew's eyes downcast from his shiny pulp stained glass they caught hold onto something. In the mail slot (which was hardly ever used since Giles messed with the bills and Willow and Xanders letters to Buffy had been less and less) was an unusual sight. A small square package was wedged halfway through its lips, due to it being not a letter but a package even it may be small nothing bigger than a couple of letters could even fit through that little door, and even so why not just leave the thing on the front porch?

Its not like people are ravenous to eat up our mail. Andrew pondered as he crouched down placed his glass on the shelf and inspected the package that was badly tattered and tethered beyond belief. He withdrew a hand and touched it gently to feel not only its rubbed and soft cardboard but also the gristle from what seemed to be….street dust?
This was weird, beyond weird.
The new summers gang had not many friends – Dawn and Buffy had been fighting excessively and didn't play well with others - so who would send this? He outstretched a hand wondering briefly if maybe it was for him but he doubted it highly all his friends were dead now and his family was god knows where, but he still hoped blindly. For he knew it could be some kind of prize and he won the 'Most Graphic Novels' contest! He then snapped and pulled at it but it was securely latched between the metal monsters lips. Now both hands onto the mail slot he pulled drastically and heaved backwards. Pulling, pulling, pulling, gosh this hurts, pulling, pulling, I need to tone on my burly figure, pulling, pulling, POP.

The package was now in the confines of Andrew's grip and he turned closer to examine it with a close eye. It was defiantly broken, an the address was written with bold marker over an old sticker seal its edges rounded and strings of messed with cardboard waved in the air. It read, Summer Residence.
Andrew stood flipping the small package over and investigating it over and over in the Kitchens flickering light when the alarms rang.

Dawn's tired and unenthusiastic voice droned into the room and Andrew in need stuffed the package into his jeans, it barely got past the stitching but somehow the force made it be stuffed deeply in there. Once he peered up from his jeans he saw Dawn making her way towards him as she plopped her head snug on his shoulder. He felt himself flush bright pink.
"Erghhh mornings aren't fun. Like Hitler except now he has the sun on his side." She moaned but most of it wasn't even clear as it was muffled into his shoulder blade. He could hear the bustle and felt the hairs on his back prickle up. Buffy was getting up! Now even he knew that snooping through peoples mail was wrong, not to mention jail worthy which wasn't Andrews thing. But this….was different. He knew somehow that he needed to open it and not Buffy. It was almost as if the package was telling him so.
Oh my gosh I'm talking to mail.

"Eh, whats with you Andy?" Dawn's affectionate nickname she used only when she was worried for him drew Andrew from his thoughts of speaking to mailed letters and packages and turned with a great big smile at her, his now long dirty blonde hair resting in his face.

"Huh? No… uh…. Nothing… I mean…-"

"What's that in your pants?" Dawn said gesturing to the speaking package.
"Eh… I'm happy to see you! Um Dawn I need to get ready so I get the room first!"

Leaving Dawn with the most confused and distorted face he sprinted into the room as he just saw Buffy emerge sleepy eyed and tousled hair everywhere and he could even hear her groan.

"Why are you always so fidgety Andrew? Like some pussy vampire in an epic movie…"
He paid no attention to her sarcastic words and practically leaped upon his bed. With hard calloused fingers due to his demon practice he began to unlatch the weak and feeble tape from its place and slowly opened the package.

Inside there was no cotton, nor was there any foamy popcorn that Andrew so much loved to sprinkle, there was only a necklace.

An amulet that was incredibly bulky and of silver colored, jewels adorned its frame and a even larger one cramped in the middle shimmering like a god on its throne. The feeling of the necklace was so powerful and so binding that he was drawn toward it, and he felt those silent and gesturing words usher him again. Whispering and chattering they told him to put the large piece of jewelry upon his neck. What was this? A gift from Angel? No, he didn't even know we lived here….no. Then what could it be a scam? A dem-

Too late.

A large flash of light sprinkled upon his eyes and his body had a strange out of world experience like he was drowning in an ocean with no water. Ripping off the strange feeling by throwing the amulet on the floor eyes widened and chest crest fallen he breathed hard.
"ANDREW I HAVE TO USE THAT EFFIN ROOM! DON'T MAKE ME COME IN THERE AND STAKE YOU!"
Dawn's voice is more terrifying then some out of world experience….
"You're not a slayer!"
"Oooh, you don't need Slayer strength to hurt you Andy!"
Andrew now even more horrified stuffed the package scraps beneath his bed and the amulet beneath his pillow.

Comic Book places sure did give out weird prizes.

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Authors Notes: Hah isn't Andrew hilarious!? D Sorry that there was no perspective for Buffy and Spike hasn't come out yet but lets take this all at a time. Anyway it may take three days for updates I don't know. Also I haven't read Season Eight because I'm poor so don't tell me and don't make me change it because of Angel. I haven't seen the fifth season so I'm clueless. Its an AU people. Supposed to be different. Review and tell me any changes please :) Stormiie

Next Chapter:

Buffy's life has been climbing the ladder from before. And Andrew is well in for a surprise. What of Noah? Know in the next chapter to Post. Game of the Devil.