LEGAL A/N: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20TH Century Fox Television, UPN, The WB and CW. 24 and all characters belong to Robert Cochran, Joel Surnow, 20TH Century Fox Television, Imagine Television, Real Time Productions and Fox Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.
Six months ago, I died… and since then I have been on the run under several aliases. Now I'm James Dawson. I'm a threat to national security, I'm a threat to people who try to help me… but most importantly, I'm a threat to those who try to stop me. My name was Jack Bauer.
Once, I was a hero to my country.
Until the day my country wanted me dead.
I'm now a man without a past,
And this is the longest night of my life.
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 7:00 P.M. AND 8:00 P.M.
EVENTS OCCUR IN REAL TIME.
Sunnydale, California
7:00:00 P.M. PST
James Dawson gazed at himself in confusion. He stood in a public bathroom that was empty save for himself and was leaned over a porcelain sink. His blue and green eyes which had seen so much felt as if they were looking at a new man. He stared intently into the bathroom mirror at his tanned face and his blonde hair which he had just had neatly shaved the morning before.
It wasn't his body. The man in the mirror was not James Dawson. It was something that always came to him when he caught his own reflection whether it be this nightly, mental confessional in front of the mirror that he had grown accustomed to or a small blink of the eye in passing.
He looked tired. He should have slept before he came to his first day of work. He never timed it right.
But chances are he'd be lucky this time. He'd go through the motions of this stranger's body that he was living inside of and do his small job quietly and alone, unnoticed by all until he could move on to another town and another name.
His multi-colored eyes moved down to his neck as he fixed the orange collar. They settled on the hideous orange-and-white-striped shirt that he had to wear. In all of his life, he probably had never worn something so stupid. Except maybe that Christmas sweater that Teri's mother made which he had to pretend to like.
A small smile formed on his face, but quickly vanished. He looked at his face in the mirror again. That's not James Dawson, he said to himself. James Dawson is who I have to be.
Slowly, he filled his lungs with a deep breath and let out the air. It was definitely not the hardest thing he'd ever done. He straightened up his ugly orange-striped shirt and brushed off his bright orange pants. He turned towards the orange door and pushed it open.
Outside of the bathroom, there was a calm, detached environment in the restaurant around him. He gazed out at the two or three people sitting at the tables and booths that paid his entrance no attention. It's what he wanted.
He looked over at the counter to see a dark haired girl behind the register with a dead look on her face as she gazed out into the abyss before her. Her hair was back in a pony tail underneath a silly, bright orange hat with a yellow cow's head on top of it which had a twisted black-lipped grin. It creeped him out.
Please, God, don't make me have to wear one of those.
Just then, a kid half his age wearing a white, button-up shirt and bright orange tie walked out from behind the counter to face James. "Ah, there you are," he began. James looked him down. He was less than his height with thick blonde hair and a little blue tag which read: BRICK SPAIN, MANAGER.
"You must be James Dawson," Brick said, shaking his hand with a wide-mouthed grin. "My name is Mr. Spain," he explained as if talking to a child. James stared at him in stunned silence as he watched him. "I want you to know, Jim – can I call you Jim? I won't just be your manager while you're working here… I'll be your friend."
He suddenly was bombarded with a flashback of his entire former life up until that point. James tried to force a smile, but couldn't really find it in himself. "Thank you," he finally spat out.
"I'm sure you're just enthralled to be working here," Brick continued with a wide smile, nodding his head while still shaking James' hand.
"Um… absolutely…"
"That's great. Well, if you don't mind, we'll get started on the grand tour. Ooh!" he said, throwing up a finger. "That reminds me, Jim." He started digging in his pocket. "This belongs to you now." He pulled out a blue, plastic nametag and placed it in James' outstretched hand. He looked down at it and felt that same confusion as he studied the letters in the tag:
JAMES DAWSON
DOUBLEMEAT PALACE
7:07:13 P.M. PST
The orange hat sat in James' hands as he stared down at it with a frown. The yellow cow stared up at him with its twisted grin. It looked a little demonic. Blue pieces of cloth protruded out of the back of the hat.
"So I have to wear the hat?" James said, with a disappointed tone.
"You don't sound so excited, Jim," Brick answered, giving him a pat on his back. "I mean, isn't he the cutest?" The cow's huge eyes were glaring at Jack with a smile wider than Brick's which proved otherwise.
"Uh… sure."
"I understand what it is," Brick declared. "You're just nervous about working here. I was too, you know. But I've been here for two weeks and everyone's really nice."
"Two weeks?" James repeated.
Brick's smile faded a bit. "Yeah… it's quite sad. The last manager… well, he, uh, passed away." James gazed at him as he processed the information.
"What happened?" he asked.
Brick began to turn away, hesitating before he answered, "That reminds me… a word from the wise – the sun just went down a few minutes ago and when it gets dark, business slows down a little. Don't… uh… don't go outside unless you need to. There's something of a… uh… a gang problem here."
"Gang problem?" he repeated. He could feel an instinct kicking in.
"But never mind you that," Brick smiled. "We'll all be fine. Now all we need to do is introduce you to some of the workings here at Doublemeat."
They walked out of Brick's office into the kitchen of the restaurant where several more bored teenagers wandered around. A blonde girl in her early twenties quickly walked by, having the lucky privilege of removing her hat.
"Uh, Buffy?" Brick quickly stopped her. She paused in her tracks with a disappointed face, then turned around to face her manager, forcing a smile herself.
"Yes, Mr. Spain?"
"Could you do me a teeny, tiny little favor?"
"Well, actually," she apologetically began, "I was just about to—"
"This is James Dawson," Brick said, revealing James to her view. "He's starting tonight and he'll be here tomorrow. I was hoping he could have a nice friend here to… show him the ropes." He added the last phrase with a smile as he put up his fists in boxing fashion. Both James and Buffy stared at him incredulously.
"I would love to," Buffy tried to explain, "but you see, it's getting late and—"
"Late?" Brick repeated with a mighty and pleasant voice. "Late? The night is young! Go! Teach. And if you see Sophie, tell her I need her to fix the cooling system in the meat cellar. It turns everything into a block of ice in a few minutes."
He patted her on the back and gave her a small push towards James, leaving the two of them as he returned to his office. She watched him go with a peeved expression which turned into an uncertain half-smile as she turned to him.
"Sorry," he began.
"It's okay," she smiled warmly. "Not like I have a life anyway."
7:18:54 P.M. PST
Spike sat at the bar at Willy's as he swallowed a shot of whiskey. He slammed the glass down on the bar as people chatted around him. It was busy for a Tuesday night, not that those were ever boring. Groups of demons and vampires were all around him. The difference was that no one seemed to notice him or give him any lecture about his helping the Slayer.
Those days were long over.
She definitely didn't notice him anymore. It wasn't fair. She loved him, he knew it. He felt it every time they were together. But then when it was over she'd kick him out like he was a rat in the house. What made him the angriest was when she pranced off to her "normal" life with her friends and her job. Sooner or later she'd come back.
But she wasn't coming back. Not this time. She'd told him herself a week or two ago when her ex-boyfriend rode into town with his damn military brigade. He'd caught the two of them sleeping together and the next thing anyone knew, the Slayer was denying and explaining everything – talking faster than she could get her clothes back on. Of course, she left him after that with a bruised face and a destroyed home.
But that was all over. That was in the past. It was a new night and he was going to show her who William the Bloody really was.
Spike's attention was pulled away from his empty glass. His senses picked up several sentences from across the room. He turned, looking over at a gang of vampires sitting at a booth in the corner.
"Tonight's the night, boys. We're gonna give the Slayer hell."
7:25:34 P.M. PST
"So are you new in town?" Buffy asked as she and James stood over the grill. He looked over at her with a calm expression, but inside was slightly stunned.
"Yeah, kinda," he answered.
"No, I haven't been stalking you," she said with a smile. "Sunnydale's not exactly a bustling city. I just never recognized you." He returned a small, almost nervous smirk as he looked away in relaxation. Buffy turned on the grill to it's normal temperature and casually asked, "Unless I have a reason to be stalking you…"
"Oh, trust me," James answered quickly. "I'm not really an exciting guy." She looked up at him, smiling a little wider and he gazed at her. She was a pretty young woman with sparkling green eyes. However, he noted that she looked extremely tired herself. It wasn't an expression that he figured he'd see on a woman as young as she.
"Buffy, Jim," Brick's voice declared from across the kitchen. "Where are your hats?" They both held theirs up.
"Right here," Buffy answered, pushing enthusiasm.
"Well, why aren't they on your heads?" he asked.
Buffy and James gave each other a look and placed the hideous hats on their heads. Brick nodded with approval and walked away, leaving them again. The hats immediately came off. James looked at the blue pieces of cloth hanging out of the back.
"What the hell are those?"
"I think they're tail feathers."
"Well is it a cow or a chicken?"
"Maybe it's one of those weird multi-meat things. Like a Turducken." James sighed as he looked around at the kitchen. "Well, for a non-exciting guy as yourself," Buffy shrugged with a deflated tone, "it's the perfect job for getting away. But trust me – you'll be longing for some quality family time soon enough." She looked over to see him look away suddenly, a stricken expression on his face that he was trying very hard to hide.
"Oh," she said, her eyes widening a bit at her error. "I mean, not that… I…" With a sigh, she let the words fall away in defeat. Rolling her eyes, she said to herself, "Why do I always do that?"
"It's fine," James answered. Buffy glanced up at him and noted the tiny smile he gave. It was a forced one: an art she knew well by now. He reached out and picked up a spatula off of the grill. Buffy gazed down to see a nasty scar on his forearm. Her eyes were focused on the unusually shaped scar – an old one, but a bad one nevertheless.
"So… what did you say you did before this?" Buffy asked with a puzzled expression.
"I… worked at a box company," James answered.
"Oh." Buffy looked up at him, eyeing him with growing suspicion. "That's it?"
James turned to her, gazing at her nervously. "Yeah." They stared at each other for a few seconds of uncomfortably awkwardness until Buffy finally replied with an anxious tone.
"Neat."
"Buffy!" Brick called from the other side of the kitchen. "Can you help Sophie with the meat cellar? And where's your hat?"
"Sure," Buffy answered as she left James at the grill and followed the manager. Before she disappeared into the meat cellar, she looked back to see James staring down at the grill with a where-did-my-life-go? expression. She couldn't help but sense that there was something wrong with his story – his something – that she couldn't put her hand on.
7:32:23 P.M. PST
"When do we leave, Mickey?" a vampire said to another as he and four others sat in a booth inside Willy's Bar.
"Shut your trap," Mickey, the rough-neck young vamp snapped at his thuggish gang. "We'll go in a few."
"Where to, boys?" a Cockney accent declared from above. The vamps looked over to see Spike standing at their table with a belligerent smile on his twisted face. The vamps stared at him with a sense of loathing and awe. He stood tall in black clothes with platinum blonde hair that was firmly gelled back. He wore a long, black, leather duster jacket that supposedly he stole of the body of a Slayer he killed himself. But that was a long time ago. Even if the story was real, that Spike is dead.
"Spike!" one of the vampires spat.
"It's the Slayer's lapdog!" another shouted. The first, shortest vampire stood up and quickly swung a punch at him. Spike coolly caught his fist and crushed every bone in the grip of his fingers without giving a glance at his screaming attacker. The vamp was on his knees in seconds, causing the others to jump with surprise.
"That's not very polite, mate," Spike declared as he glared at the stunned vampires.
"How'd you do that?" Mickey asked, fear entering his voice. "I thought you couldn't hurt—"
"Humans," Spike answered with a twisted grin. "And you can't imagine what that pent-up frustration will make me to do the likes of you." The other vamp thugs gulped at the thought – William the Bloody was alive and well.
"What do you want, White Hat?" Mickey daring asked, trying to mask his nerves.
Spike gazed at Mickey with a calmed face, studying the young vampire who looked about twenty-two and couldn't have been dead more than a few years after that. "And what did I say about being polite?" Spike reminded as he watched the sweat bead on Mickey's forehead. "We're all good men here," he continued, looking around the table. "I just wanted to know if you fellas had any plans this evening. You know, dinner… movie… rampage?"
"It's none of your business," the thug leader hissed.
"Pain is my business, you twit," Spike replied smugly. "Now why don't you tell me if business is about to be good."
Mickey demanded, "What do you know?"
"Well, Mickey Mouse," Spike began, "I happened to overhear your stealthy rambling about how you were going to give the Slayer hell."
"Yeah?" Mickey said with a frown. "Why do you care?"
"Because I'm going to waste you," Spike answered with as a smile curled his lips, "or I'm gonna help you."
7:54:06 P.M. PST
Sophie and Buffy stood next to a metal box with wires coming out of it attached to the metal meat locker. Sophie carefully connected two wires as Buffy held a flashlight on the different colored strands. "All righty," Sophie declared as she twisted the wires together. "It's fixed."
"You sure?" Buffy asked. "You really didn't have to do much."
"It was an easy fix," she answered as she closed the box. Buffy looked back at Sophie with a surprised, confused expression. She never knew that her co-worker, who attended the last disaster of a birthday party she had a few weeks ago, was so good with fixing things.
Sophie put her stupid uniform hat back on and tightened the ponytail of her dirty blonde hair. A smile stretched her pink cheeks and lips as she glanced over at James who idly passed across the kitchen with a mop in hand. "So," she turned to Buffy with an excited grin, "who was that cutie you were talking to?"
"Huh?" Buffy responded.
"You know… the new guy?"
Buffy looked over at James as he pulled the mop back and forth across the floor. She was able to get a better look at an ornate tattoo on the inside of his other forearm. His look, his expression, didn't match his story at all. "I don't know what to think about him," Buffy sighed, shaking her head.
"I think you should talk to him more," Sophie replied. "Is he married?"
"What?" Buffy exclaimed, turning to he with a thrown-off-guard look. "I don't… No, I don't think so, but… I don't—"
"What's the problem?" Sophie excitedly coaxed. "Don't think he's attractive?"
"Well, no," Buffy answered. "I mean, yes. I mean… yeah, I think he is, but… I just…" She sighed, shaking her head, "I don't know if he's my type."
Sophie's face fell flat with confusion as she glanced at James, then turned back to Buffy, and then repeated. She glanced back at her and replied, "Strange. I kinda pictured you as a dark, mysterious, older-man type of girl."
Buffy's eyes widened and she could feel her face blush. "Uh…" Suddenly, both girls turned towards a crash coming from outside of the building.
"What was that?" Sophie exclaimed.
Buffy immediately went on guard as she replied, "Um… probably an animal or something. I'll go check." She walked towards the back door, leaving Sophie anxiously standing by.
7:57:39 P.M. PST
"A box company," James grumbled to himself in disgust as he wiped the floor. "Very nice," he sighed, shaking his head. "Idiot." Suddenly, he heard a crash and the voice of a woman call out in pain. He froze instantly as he heard what sounded like an animal's roar coming from outside. Before he could think, instincts immediately kicked in. For a moment, he was once again Jack Bauer.
His hand moved to a meat cleaver sitting on the counter next to the grill. James flew through the kitchen, unseen by his co-workers who were still busy tending to the business and did not hear the sounds of struggle outside. They seemed completely unaffected; as if the violence that may or may not be there was nothing new.
He bolted for the back door and shoved it open with the cleaver in hand. James entered a darkened alley lit only by a few distant streetlights and a naked bulb sticking to the side of the brick Doublemeat building beside the dumpster. His eyes immediately found the source of the commotion – a gang of several men surrounding a lone woman. Instinctively, he charged in the direction of the battle to see one of the men rear back and knock the woman to the ground. James pulled back his arm and sent the cleaver flying into the shoulder-blade of one of the attackers.
He heard an inhuman roar that he'd never heard before. The attacker spun around to face James with a face of fury and horror – yellow eyes, puffed-out, reptilian brow, and sharp, jagged teeth. The other nine attackers turned to him with the same deformities. Everything he had seen in his life and nothing had been quite like that.
His eyes widened as the monster pulled the cleaver out of his shoulder carelessly. James looked back to see the woman flip onto her feet – it was Buffy. In a flash, she stabbed something in the back of the creature facing James causing it to explode into a cloud of dust. James quickly realized that the 'attack' was more like a brawl with Buffy winning quickly.
She side-kicked the vampire to her left, breaking his knee and jabbed the wooden stake into the heart, killing another. A vamp approached her from behind, but she grabbed him and flipped him onto his back, burying the stake into his heart. As two charged at her from the side, she threw the stake with enough force that it cut through the heart of one and landed in the chest of the one behind him. Two clouds of dust broke out as the others maneuvered around her. Another vamp roundhouse-kicked her in the face, knocking her to the ground again. This time, she kicked the legs out from underneath her attacker and spun up to her feet.
Buffy grabbed one vamp that ran to her by the shoulders, picking him off the ground and throwing him into another. She turned around and promptly dug another stake into the chest of a vampire behind her. The vampire that kicked her earlier she hit in the face with two quick jabs and then she took him out with the stake.
The second-to-last vampire grabbed her suddenly from behind, pulling her stake away from her and holding her arms to her body. He opened his jaws wide to clamp down on her neck, but tasted the leather of her shoe when she kicked up and hit him in the face. She spun around and kicked him in the chest, throwing him backwards into a wooden crate, smashing it as dusted on a piece of the wood.
The last vampire ran down the alley at Buffy full speed, but she dove for the ground and rolled. When she came to a stand, she had in her hand the meat cleaver and she let it fly, cutting through the neck of the vamp and dusting him.
An eerie calm came over the alley as the dust fell and was carried away by the wind. Buffy turned away from the remains of her attackers to face James, who stood wide-eyed and confused. She stared at him blankly, knowing that she had made a terrible mistake.
7:59:33 P.M. PST
Spike followed the vamps outside of Willy's Bar to a back alley where a dark van was parked. They opened the door of the van to reveal an arsenal of high-tech machine guns, body armor, and at least one rocket launcher. Spike's eyes widened as he realized just how much hell the vamp gang was ready to raise.
7:59:59… 8:00:00
7:59:58…