Title: Flirting With Death
Willow gently disentangled herself from Oz's arms and rolled over to grab the telephone. Oz stirred, but didn't wake.
"Hello?" Willow mumbled sleepily into the receiver, glaring at the illuminated digital display of her clock radio, "This had better be important enough to wake me up at 1:30 in the morning or you'll soon have a desperate need for cheese, whoever you are."
"Willow?" the panicky voice on the other end of the connection said hurriedly, "You have to get down here now! I need your help!"
"Who is this?" Willow asked, not recognizing who the voice belonged to even though it was familiar.
"It's Willy," he replied, sighing, "And I need your help with the Slayer. You have to get her out of here before she starts causing trouble."
"W-W-Willy?" Willow sputtered, surprised, "What do you mean you need my help with the Slayer? Buffy's *there*?"
"Oh, she's here all right," Willy acknowledged grimly, "And she's been talking to an empty chair for the past hour."
"She's *drunk*?!?" Willow sat up in bed, stunned.
This was not good. A drunk Slayer was a vulnerable Slayer. And since when did Buffy drink? This wasn't like her. After Angel left last year, she'd been understandably a little down. But never had she turned to a bottle. Even at New Year's, Buffy'd had only one glass of champagne. And now she'd gotten hammered at Willy's?
"Why didn't you cut her off and call her a cab?" Willow accused.
"I tried," Willy said, "Once. She threatened to reach down my throat and rip out my ribcage so she could wear it as a hat. I just had this place renovated, I don't need the Slayer trashing it. She'll listen to you. I hope. Can you come and get her?"
"Yeah," Willow sighed, "I'll be there soon."
Willow hung up the phone and turned to shake Oz awake. It would be easier to get Buffy home in Oz's van than trying to help her walk.
----------
Oz pulled the van over to the curb in front of Willy's Bar. He couldn't believe why they were here. He offered Willow a hand out of the passenger seat and escorted her to the front door to the bar. Willow paused to take a deep breath, and then walked in. Her eyes quickly scanned the near empty room. Wednesdays were not a big night at Willy's. She saw Buffy in a back corner in animated conversation with someone hidden in the shadows.
[I thought Willy said she was talking to an empty chair,] Willow thought as she led Oz up to the bar.
Willy was obviously relieved to see reinforcements arriving. But Willow's opening remark caught him by surprise.
"Who's she talking to now? I thought you said she was alone."
Willy glanced from the redhead to the back corner table, then back to the redhead.
"She is," Willy replied, confused, "There's nobody there."
"You can't see who she talking to?" Willow asked, incredulous, "Oz, you see somebody, don't you? It's not just me?"
"You mean the unknown somebody in the black hooded cloak that appears to be telling Buffy we're here?" Oz said, "'Cause if you see somebody else, we may have a bigger problem."
"What?" Willy gasped, "What are you two talking about? I only see Buffy at that table. What the Hell is going on?"
Willow didn't answer. She'd caught Buffy turning in her seat to look toward the group at the bar. Now Buffy had stood up and was drawing her companion to his feet (if it was a he, the hood made it impossible to see a face and the ankle length cloak shrouded his body). The two headed toward the bar, their steps steady and even; even if they'd had a few, they weren't obviously inebriated.
"Hey guys," Buffy chirped as she approached, "What are you doing here? I leave the apartment to give you two some privacy and you don't take advantage? What's up with that?"
Willow blushed slightly, she and Oz had 'taken advantage' of Buffy's absence earlier. Oz sometimes spent the night at the apartment Willow and Buffy shared just a few blocks from the UC Sunnydale campus. On those occasions when they weren't gathered to watch movies or be study buddies, Buffy was quite content to give her friends some quality time together while she 'went on patrol'.
Tonight, with vamp activity in a major slump and no dire prophecies on the immediate horizon, Buffy had somehow ended up at Willy's instead of the Bronze, still a popular hangout for college students and highschoolers alike. She wanted a little quiet time to herself and Willy's on a Wednesday was a lot quieter than the Bronze ever was.
Willow examined Buffy closely. Buffy seemed relaxed and bubbly as usual. The slight brightness in her eyes indicated that she had consumed a few, even if she wasn't legally supposed to get served. But Willow could understand why Willy would; it would get him in the Slayer's good graces and she'd be less likely to be overly insistent the next time she wanted information from Sunnydale's own InfoWeasel. Maybe.
"Willy called," Willow explained, "He wanted help, said you were drunk and he was afraid you'd trash the place if he tried to cut you off by himself. Major exaggeration from what I can see. Maybe I should rethink deciding not to give him a need for cheese. Who's your new friend?"
"Gotta say," Oz added, "The fashion statement doesn't make a lot of sense."
"What friend?" Willy interrupted, "There's nobody he...*GAAAHHH*!"
Willow started as Willy screamed when Buffy's friend leaned across the bar and looked straight in his eyes. Willy staggered back and slammed up against the back wall, his face going pale and his eyes as wide as saucers. Buffy put her hand on a cloaked shoulder and jerked him back.
"Whoa! Thanatos," she cautioned, "I know you can force ordinary mortals to see you when you want to, but you're gonna give him a heart attack. He may be a weasel, but he's too useful for information to croak him right now. Besides, you said you weren't here for anyone."
"Thanatos?" Willow asked, "As in Death? *The* Death?"
Thanatos turned to face the others and Willow gave a small shriek before hiding behind Oz. Visible inside the cowl was a bare eyeless skull. Skeletal hands reached up and flicked the hood back. The skull faded from view, replaced by a rather plain, undistinguished face with faint acne scars. His unkempt, dishwater brown hair was short and had fallen into his eyes. He raised one hand to brush the errant strands away from his face and Willow sucked in a breath at the contrast; pale white bones of the fingers against the living flesh of his face.
"Call me Zane," he said softly, extending one boney hand.
Unphased in the least, Oz reached out and shook it. Willow just nodded from behind her boyfriend's shoulder.
"How did you do that?" Oz asked, "The skull and face thing."
"Magic," Zane replied, "While wearing the accoutrements of my Office, most people won't see me. I can force perception if I so desire, like I did with our resident barkeep. Some people, however can see me like that. A person I've come to collect. People without preconceptions like children, the terminally ill, and others who are attuned to the supernatural. The Slayer for example. Or...."
"Witches, werewolves, the deeply religeous and things that go bump in the night," Buffy added.
"But you're not here to 'collect' anyone are you?" Willow asked.
"No," Zane answered, "Just stopping on my way through to LA. I have a few collections there in a few hours."
"But," Oz put in, "Aren't people dying all the time? Every few seconds? How does that work?"
"I don't collect every soul personally," Zane explained, "Most people's souls will pass on to their rightful destination by themselves. My job is to collect the souls that are balanced between good and evil and make the determination of their final destination."
"Uh," Willy hesitantly interrupted, "Can I close up now?"
"Ah, Willy," Buffy grinned, patting him on the cheek, "I'd've thought you'd be used to the weirdness that is life in Sunnydale by now. Surely having Death drop in for a beer isn't shocking after all you've already seen. And the 'people' you've served."
Buffy, Willow, Oz and Zane left the bar, still chuckling at Willy's obvious nervousness. Outside on the sidewalk, Buffy turned to Zane.
"So," she said, "I guess you have to get going, huh? Drop in again when you've got some time. We'll 'do lunch'."
"I'd like that," Zane smiled.
He walked a few paces to the pale limosine with the personalized license plate "MORTIS" and climbed in. A skeletal hand emerged from the driver's window and waved as the car pulled into the street. Buffy raised her arm and waved back as Zane drove down the street and disappeared into the night.
"Buffy?" Willow asked, noticing the small half smile on Buffy's face.
"Giles sometimes complains when my mind isn't totally focused," Buffy replied, a full fledged grin breaking out on her face, "But it was a lot of fun doing it literally."
"Huh?" Oz queried.
"Flirting with Death," was the laughing response.
"C'mon," Willow said, smiling, "It's late and we do have an early class tomorrow."
The trio climbed into Oz's van and headed back to the apartment to get some sleep.
END
Willow gently disentangled herself from Oz's arms and rolled over to grab the telephone. Oz stirred, but didn't wake.
"Hello?" Willow mumbled sleepily into the receiver, glaring at the illuminated digital display of her clock radio, "This had better be important enough to wake me up at 1:30 in the morning or you'll soon have a desperate need for cheese, whoever you are."
"Willow?" the panicky voice on the other end of the connection said hurriedly, "You have to get down here now! I need your help!"
"Who is this?" Willow asked, not recognizing who the voice belonged to even though it was familiar.
"It's Willy," he replied, sighing, "And I need your help with the Slayer. You have to get her out of here before she starts causing trouble."
"W-W-Willy?" Willow sputtered, surprised, "What do you mean you need my help with the Slayer? Buffy's *there*?"
"Oh, she's here all right," Willy acknowledged grimly, "And she's been talking to an empty chair for the past hour."
"She's *drunk*?!?" Willow sat up in bed, stunned.
This was not good. A drunk Slayer was a vulnerable Slayer. And since when did Buffy drink? This wasn't like her. After Angel left last year, she'd been understandably a little down. But never had she turned to a bottle. Even at New Year's, Buffy'd had only one glass of champagne. And now she'd gotten hammered at Willy's?
"Why didn't you cut her off and call her a cab?" Willow accused.
"I tried," Willy said, "Once. She threatened to reach down my throat and rip out my ribcage so she could wear it as a hat. I just had this place renovated, I don't need the Slayer trashing it. She'll listen to you. I hope. Can you come and get her?"
"Yeah," Willow sighed, "I'll be there soon."
Willow hung up the phone and turned to shake Oz awake. It would be easier to get Buffy home in Oz's van than trying to help her walk.
----------
Oz pulled the van over to the curb in front of Willy's Bar. He couldn't believe why they were here. He offered Willow a hand out of the passenger seat and escorted her to the front door to the bar. Willow paused to take a deep breath, and then walked in. Her eyes quickly scanned the near empty room. Wednesdays were not a big night at Willy's. She saw Buffy in a back corner in animated conversation with someone hidden in the shadows.
[I thought Willy said she was talking to an empty chair,] Willow thought as she led Oz up to the bar.
Willy was obviously relieved to see reinforcements arriving. But Willow's opening remark caught him by surprise.
"Who's she talking to now? I thought you said she was alone."
Willy glanced from the redhead to the back corner table, then back to the redhead.
"She is," Willy replied, confused, "There's nobody there."
"You can't see who she talking to?" Willow asked, incredulous, "Oz, you see somebody, don't you? It's not just me?"
"You mean the unknown somebody in the black hooded cloak that appears to be telling Buffy we're here?" Oz said, "'Cause if you see somebody else, we may have a bigger problem."
"What?" Willy gasped, "What are you two talking about? I only see Buffy at that table. What the Hell is going on?"
Willow didn't answer. She'd caught Buffy turning in her seat to look toward the group at the bar. Now Buffy had stood up and was drawing her companion to his feet (if it was a he, the hood made it impossible to see a face and the ankle length cloak shrouded his body). The two headed toward the bar, their steps steady and even; even if they'd had a few, they weren't obviously inebriated.
"Hey guys," Buffy chirped as she approached, "What are you doing here? I leave the apartment to give you two some privacy and you don't take advantage? What's up with that?"
Willow blushed slightly, she and Oz had 'taken advantage' of Buffy's absence earlier. Oz sometimes spent the night at the apartment Willow and Buffy shared just a few blocks from the UC Sunnydale campus. On those occasions when they weren't gathered to watch movies or be study buddies, Buffy was quite content to give her friends some quality time together while she 'went on patrol'.
Tonight, with vamp activity in a major slump and no dire prophecies on the immediate horizon, Buffy had somehow ended up at Willy's instead of the Bronze, still a popular hangout for college students and highschoolers alike. She wanted a little quiet time to herself and Willy's on a Wednesday was a lot quieter than the Bronze ever was.
Willow examined Buffy closely. Buffy seemed relaxed and bubbly as usual. The slight brightness in her eyes indicated that she had consumed a few, even if she wasn't legally supposed to get served. But Willow could understand why Willy would; it would get him in the Slayer's good graces and she'd be less likely to be overly insistent the next time she wanted information from Sunnydale's own InfoWeasel. Maybe.
"Willy called," Willow explained, "He wanted help, said you were drunk and he was afraid you'd trash the place if he tried to cut you off by himself. Major exaggeration from what I can see. Maybe I should rethink deciding not to give him a need for cheese. Who's your new friend?"
"Gotta say," Oz added, "The fashion statement doesn't make a lot of sense."
"What friend?" Willy interrupted, "There's nobody he...*GAAAHHH*!"
Willow started as Willy screamed when Buffy's friend leaned across the bar and looked straight in his eyes. Willy staggered back and slammed up against the back wall, his face going pale and his eyes as wide as saucers. Buffy put her hand on a cloaked shoulder and jerked him back.
"Whoa! Thanatos," she cautioned, "I know you can force ordinary mortals to see you when you want to, but you're gonna give him a heart attack. He may be a weasel, but he's too useful for information to croak him right now. Besides, you said you weren't here for anyone."
"Thanatos?" Willow asked, "As in Death? *The* Death?"
Thanatos turned to face the others and Willow gave a small shriek before hiding behind Oz. Visible inside the cowl was a bare eyeless skull. Skeletal hands reached up and flicked the hood back. The skull faded from view, replaced by a rather plain, undistinguished face with faint acne scars. His unkempt, dishwater brown hair was short and had fallen into his eyes. He raised one hand to brush the errant strands away from his face and Willow sucked in a breath at the contrast; pale white bones of the fingers against the living flesh of his face.
"Call me Zane," he said softly, extending one boney hand.
Unphased in the least, Oz reached out and shook it. Willow just nodded from behind her boyfriend's shoulder.
"How did you do that?" Oz asked, "The skull and face thing."
"Magic," Zane replied, "While wearing the accoutrements of my Office, most people won't see me. I can force perception if I so desire, like I did with our resident barkeep. Some people, however can see me like that. A person I've come to collect. People without preconceptions like children, the terminally ill, and others who are attuned to the supernatural. The Slayer for example. Or...."
"Witches, werewolves, the deeply religeous and things that go bump in the night," Buffy added.
"But you're not here to 'collect' anyone are you?" Willow asked.
"No," Zane answered, "Just stopping on my way through to LA. I have a few collections there in a few hours."
"But," Oz put in, "Aren't people dying all the time? Every few seconds? How does that work?"
"I don't collect every soul personally," Zane explained, "Most people's souls will pass on to their rightful destination by themselves. My job is to collect the souls that are balanced between good and evil and make the determination of their final destination."
"Uh," Willy hesitantly interrupted, "Can I close up now?"
"Ah, Willy," Buffy grinned, patting him on the cheek, "I'd've thought you'd be used to the weirdness that is life in Sunnydale by now. Surely having Death drop in for a beer isn't shocking after all you've already seen. And the 'people' you've served."
Buffy, Willow, Oz and Zane left the bar, still chuckling at Willy's obvious nervousness. Outside on the sidewalk, Buffy turned to Zane.
"So," she said, "I guess you have to get going, huh? Drop in again when you've got some time. We'll 'do lunch'."
"I'd like that," Zane smiled.
He walked a few paces to the pale limosine with the personalized license plate "MORTIS" and climbed in. A skeletal hand emerged from the driver's window and waved as the car pulled into the street. Buffy raised her arm and waved back as Zane drove down the street and disappeared into the night.
"Buffy?" Willow asked, noticing the small half smile on Buffy's face.
"Giles sometimes complains when my mind isn't totally focused," Buffy replied, a full fledged grin breaking out on her face, "But it was a lot of fun doing it literally."
"Huh?" Oz queried.
"Flirting with Death," was the laughing response.
"C'mon," Willow said, smiling, "It's late and we do have an early class tomorrow."
The trio climbed into Oz's van and headed back to the apartment to get some sleep.
END