The Vampire Vigilante

A/N: Story starts about one year after the prologue for Rise of the Nightstalkers, and is 98% original characters. Pen-and-ink illustration for part three cover art found on internet as a clipart.

A/N 2: With thanks to my roommate (and beta), Jake; without her able input and encouragement, this story would never have been written. Begun 9/25/12; completed 10/16/12. Story is complete, and will be posted spaced out over several days.

Disclaimer: (applies to all subsequent chapters; I'm not gonna write this over every time.) All rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; Any humans and vampires that you might recognize are theirs. All others are mine; I'll put theirs back without too much damage when I'm done playing with them. Some situations referred to are taken from both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series, but I'm too lazy to go looking them up to specifically footnote them. I originally read about the concept of the Vampiric Territories of North America in Yanagi_wa's wonderful story, Ulterior Motives. Other than that, if some item or situation sounds like something you wrote, please understand that I didn't intentionally take what was yours; it just apparently made enough of an impression to really stick in my brain.

Additionally, I have never been to Minneapolis, and have not even tried to be accurate with any street names or areas indicated; any resemblance to actual people or places is sheer coincidence.

Prologue

General Mitchell Payne closed the folder of the latest "vampire report" with an irritated grunt. He was trying hard—but failing—to control the urge to tell himself that it wasn't fair. It had been his idea, two years earlier, to revive part of the old Initiative idea, to use demons for the good of humanity. They would use vampires to hunt down and help take out other, hostile demons around trouble areas like the St. Louis Hellmouth. It hadn't been easy, garnering support for his project, due to the debacle the original Initiative had turned into, and they had hit some major snags along the way. But he had persevered, and the project was established.

It had worked, too.

And then his associate, General Stuart Durgan, had decided to establish a second vampire unit, modifying his idea to use vampires with military units. Only that second unit used its vampires against humans. Yes, they were used overseas, against insurgents and terrorists, but that wasn't the point. That wasn't what he fought so hard to keep from being pissed off about.

No, what he was so torqued off about was the fact that Durgan's unit was so much more successful than his own. And he didn't know why.

The two setups were similar, from what he could tell from the reports. Both groups were housed in old, deserted facilities located underground. Durgan's were in an old ammo bunker in the backside-of-beyond of Fort Bragg; his brainchild was in an old, abandoned missile-silo complex outside St. Louis for convenient access to the new Hellmouth that had opened near there. All the vampires were housed in cell-like quarters—he'd seen the plans for Durgan's setup, even though he'd never gone to see the place itself, so he knew that was the case. Both groups had the requisite office personnel, guards, and handlers for their vamps. Even their budgets and expense reports were comparable, allowing for unit size.

So why was Durgan's group showing much higher success and achievement scores? If it wasn't the facilities, it must be the personnel themselves, he finally decided. Clearly his project commander wasn't trying hard enough, or wasn't properly "encouraging" his people to get the best performance out of their charges.

He picked up the phone and had Colonel Heiser, the project commander, contacted. After forty-five minutes of "expressing his displeasure" with the unit's results, General Payne hung up, contented, certain that he'd lit a fire under the base commander's figurative tail. He was fully confident that matters would now improve to his satisfaction; their efficiency ratings would increase, now that Heiser knew he was being monitored more closely.

~o~

In St. Louis, at Hunter Base, Colonel James Heiser stared at his phone in outrage as he was hung up on by his superior. He'd known from the start that this idiocy was a bad idea, but he'd made it work. Despite the very nature of the stupid brutes they had to work with, he'd had success. But that wasn't enough for the general—oh, no; he was having some sort of pissing contest with one of his Pentagon chums.

So now, somehow, he, Heiser, had to up impossible efficiency ratings using uncooperative, vicious animals. Somehow he kept from screaming in rage as he thought about his operation. Finally he came to the conclusion that his handlers were just not forcing their charges to their best efforts. Yes, that had to be the problem; they were being too easy on their animals.

He hated the vampires and demons, hated the very thought of their existence, and had found sympathetic listeners among some of the medical staff, who encouraged his attitude. So he took his complaints, and his feeling of under-appreciation, to them.

He did not bother looking to see which pairs had the best efficiency ratings, didn't trouble himself to look into the conditions his vamp-handler teams lived and worked under. He just took his ire and made their lives even more of a living hell than it already was. And the so-called medical staff rejoiced as the bonds that constrained their "practices" were loosened that much further.

Chapter 1

Slowly Rex limped back to where his handler sat on the ground, an armed soldier standing protectively over him. His human had a bloody lump on the side of his head, his helmet now lying split and useless on the ground ten feet away from him. Rex had taken out the demon responsible, finally, but it had not been without price. Mason, the vampire from the other Hunter pair in their patrol, lay moaning on the ground, a long, ragged gash in his side bleeding sluggishly. His handler was fine, due to the fact that the human had, quite literally, run from danger. The other soldiers feared to try to help the wounded vamp.

Rex settled to the ground beside Taylor, barely holding back an unhappy snarl. Ignoring his own injuries, he carefully turned Taylor's head, examining the lump more closely, another soldier helpfully shining a light on the injury for him. Some of them have brains in their heads, he thought, for this one, at least, didn't flinch away from him in fear. "Taylor?" he asked, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn't carry far in the now-quiet night. He held up the clichéd three fingers in front of his human's face. "How many fingers…"

"Three. Geez, my head hurts!" Taylor responded with a groan, looking over at his Hunter. "What...?"

"He had a sword, Taylor; you are lucky he didn't take your head off, instead of trying to split it like a ripe melon."

"How're the others?"

"Soldier-boys are patching up their own injured, but Mason…" He paused, hating to ask Taylor to do anything else due to his own injury.

"Where's his handler?" Taylor asked in resignation, suspecting at least part of the answer. Jones was the worst sort of bully: he'd take advantage of the helpless, but feared for his own skin too much to lend a hand to others if there was any risk to himself.

"Well away from the trouble here," Rex snorted in disgust. "Do you think you can help me with Mason? The others hesitate to approach him, since he is hurt."

"Yeah; just gimme another minute."

"Taylor, how're ya doin'?" another soldier asked as he walked over, careful to keep Taylor between himself and his unrestrained… Hunter.

"Okay, Lieutenant; just dizzy," Taylor answered unhappily, knowing that time was now running out for the other vampire. Kirby, this patrol's lieutenant, might decide that it would be easier just to stake the injured vamp rather than risk further damage to his people.

Lieutenant Kirby nodded, accepting that answer. He glanced briefly over at Taylor's Hunter. Yellow eyes glared back at him, but that was only to be expected this soon after an action, and in the dark. "Your Hunter okay?" he asked, shifting his attention back to the handler.

"Yeah," Taylor answered with a groan as he tried to get up. "I think so; I'll look him over better, back on base. He hasn't said anything's wrong, but I gotta see to the other one. Rex says he's hurt; it must be pretty bad, or he'd be up already."

"Will he let you?" Kirby asked in concern, not even bothering to ask why Mason's handler wasn't taking care of him, himself. He didn't relish the thought of any more of his patrol getting hurt, especially in the cleanup of an operation.

"Rex will see that he does," Taylor answered calmly, even as he wavered on his feet. He was seeing two of everything at the moment; he shook his head to try to clear it and realized that that was a decided mistake. Only the Hunter's strong arms kept him from measuring his length on the ground; they did nothing to keep him from losing his dinner, though.

"You just sit there," Kirby said after they'd moved safely away from the mess. "Looks like you might have a concussion. I'll get someone else to look at Jones' Hunter."

"Let Rex help; we can't afford to lose any more trained Hunters, Lieutenant, and Mason's usually good on patrol," Taylor said, growing agitated now.

"Shh, Taylor, be still," Rex admonished softly, running a calming hand over the human's shoulders much as the man had done to him, back in the beginning. "I will help see to him, if you wish it. Just be calm, yes? We will get you back to base sooner that way."

Kirby just watched their interaction quietly. He'd seen it before, the bond between this pair. Most of the other guys didn't believe it when they'd heard of it, but he'd seen enough to know that this vamp, at least, truly cared about his handler. A couple of the other pairs were almost as close, but he'd figured out the key. In every case, it was initiated by concern shown by the human half of the pairing. It didn't happen overnight, but the men who really tried to do right by their inhuman charges eventually forged a good working relationship. And those were the pairs that the soldiers preferred to go out on patrol with. Of course, the officers in command of the unit and the base didn't believe any of this. They were convinced that only those control chips kept the vamps cooperating. They'd never seen what the front-line fighters had…

"Right," Kirby drawled, not approaching either Handler or Hunter. "C'mon then, Rex; let's see what we can do for the other Hunter. I'd rather not have to stake him if I can help it."

The two approached the wounded vampire, still sluggishly bleeding on the ground. He was weaker, barely moaning. And now the handler, Jones, came swaggering over. The man froze momentarily when Rex snarled at him, fangs flashing, but he came on as he remembered that the vampire couldn't actually hurt him. He pulled out a stake, his intent clear, stopping in shock on the downstroke, as Kirby snatched it away from him.

"You're on report, Mister!" the lieutenant snapped out, his voice still barely above a whisper.

"Wha…?!" Jones gasped in shock, gaping at his patrol leader.

"Attempted destruction of government property, criminal negligence, and, possibly, desertion in the face of the enemy," Kirby listed, growing more satisfied as he went on. "And if you throw that punch at me, I'll be adding 'assaulting a superior officer' to the list. Get your ass back to the vans; we'll see to your Hunter."

Jones' attempt to snarl, Rex decided as he watched the confrontation in disdain, was pathetic. But then he turned his attention back to Kirby, ignoring Jones as the… man... slunk away from the scene of his humiliation, with his figurative tail between his legs. "He needs blood, sir." He forced the honorific out with difficulty. "He will start to heal then, but he has already lost too much."

"We don't have any," the lieutenant sighed. "He'll have to hold on 'til we get back to base. Just help me wrap him up, so we can go…" He pulled out several packets of bandages as he spoke, moving closer to the injured Hunter.

Rex shifted uneasily before slowly speaking. "Taylor carries some packets of blood, sir. In case…"

He didn't have to continue; Kirby understood that they were for Rex, in case Rex got hurt like this. "Get them," he ordered, quietly watching as the Hunter obeyed with alacrity. Somehow it hadn't really surprised him to hear that there was blood available for Rex in Taylor's gear; he'd just make sure that the powers-that-be didn't learn of it. He could just hear the shit hitting the fan if they did…

Then Rex was back, carrying two units of blood. Kirby held out his hand, expecting an argument, but the vampire quietly passed the bags over. Kirby was surprised, but made no comment, when he saw that they contained human blood. Where, he wondered, had Taylor gotten them? That was something to ask about later, though. For now, he watched as Rex peeled the bloody uniform top back from Mason's torso and pressed the lips of the wound together as best he could, then supported the other vampire's shoulders so the human lieutenant could wrap the long lengths of bandaging around his body. It wasn't really necessary, but Rex had learned that the humans seemed to feel better doing such. Mason would get what was needed much quicker if he just helped the human without any argument.

Finally done with that task, Kirby picked up one unit of the blood, then looked at Rex. "Okay; how do I do this?" he asked, trying to convey the confidence he didn't feel.

Rex couldn't keep from grinning. This was someone they never saw down in the kennels; he truly had no idea how the vampires were fed. "Hold the bag down, just in front of his face," he instructed, idly playing with the thought of not warning the human… but he changed his mind as he realized that the man was trying to do right by one of his charges, whatever his own feelings about the vamps. "He will snap at it, so be warned; try not to pull back so he does not bite you by accident." Then he looked down at the injured Hunter in his arms. "Mason," he called, giving a slight shake to the near-comatose vampire. He frowned when he got no response, when the vampire showed no awareness of the nearby blood-bag. They were all weak from near-starvation, all except for the few who had handlers like Taylor, men who smuggled in additional blood supplies to supplement what they were officially allowed. Mason was not alert enough to sense the blood… With a sigh, Rex threw one look at the lieutenant, then, decision made, bit his own wrist, tearing the skin and letting his blood flow. He tipped Mason's head back, letting the blood drip into his mouth and rubbing his throat to make him swallow. He was worried when he got no response at first, but finally Mason swallowed on his own, then latched onto Rex's wrist and started to suck. Rex carefully detached the other vampire's fangs, then rubbed his slowly bleeding wrist on the bottom of the bag before licking his own wound closed.

Kirby watched curiously as the second vampire's eyes locked onto the blood-bag, and he moved towards the proffered food. The vamp froze just before biting it, looking at the human before him with something approaching terror.

"Hey, it's okay," the human said, moving the bag just a bit closer to the vampire's face. Still panicked, the vamp looked back at the one supporting him.

"Shh, Childe, it is all right," Rex crooned softly, resisting the urge to rock the younger vampire, or purr at him. "You are supposed to bite this bag; he wants you to feed. Go on, now; just bite gently, so you do not miss, yes?" He looked on in approval as the other vampire turned back uncertainly to the bag, then slowly, carefully, bit into the bloody area of it. Rex smiled at the lieutenant when that bag was emptied and the second accepted with less hesitation.

"Let me guess," Kirby said with a scowl. "Jones gives him a hard time when he feeds him."

"He would rather give him final death than food, had he the choice," Rex returned, unhappily admitting the truth. "He is not the only one, but he is one of the worst."

The lieutenant nodded in understanding. "I'll see if I can do something about him, then. Can you get him up yet?" he asked, indicating the injured vampire and rising to his own feet.

"I will carry him, if you can help Taylor," Rex offered, although he hated the thought of someone else's hands on his Pet. They would get back to base more quickly that way, though.

"Do it," Kirby agreed, then headed back to where Taylor waited, the empty blood bags in his hands.

~oOo~

They had wanted to keep Taylor in the infirmary for observation, but he kicked up such a fuss that they finally relented, releasing him to his quarters with strict orders to rest. The quarters he returned to, however, were not the ones that they'd envisioned. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself down to the mattress that now permanently resided on the floor of Rex's kennel. He only used his quarters these days to shower and change into fresh uniforms, and to let Rex wash up in a civilized fashion.

He turned his head carefully, as too rapid a movement still gave him severe vertigo, to check out his secured vampire.

"Are you feeling better?" Rex politely asked, sampling the air as he tried to assess his handler's condition for himself.

"Better? Yeah, somewhat. Could be worse, though," Taylor chuckled back, trying to reassure his charge.

"You should be in a hospital," Rex gently chided his Pet.

"Wouldn't rest there, so what's the point?" Taylor retorted with a sigh. "I can rest here just as well, an' I won't be worrying as much, so it's all to the good. 'Sides, I didn't get a chance to check you out properly. Are you okay?"

"I will be fine; your lieutenant managed to acquire some additional blood for me, somehow. I will be all healed up by morning. He even took my gag off—and no, I did not 'vamp out' at him when he did," Rex grinned wickedly at his human, trying to make Taylor smile back. It worked; he could see the corners of his Pet's mouth twitch slightly as he tried to prevent said smile.

"This is so screwed up, y'know?" Taylor finally said, letting himself lie back quietly at last. "I don't know how they expect you guys to fight when they refuse to feed you right. I can see the others getting weaker and weaker; Mason should have been able to avoid that slash easily, as fast as I know you guys are normally. You can't give back a hundred-and-ten-percent effort when you're only getting thirty-percent support."

"Hush, Taylor; you need to rest," was all Rex would say as he slowly, gently, began to run his fingers through his human's hair. It was an odd reversal; normally Taylor did the petting when Rex was injured. But this was the first time that something had gotten past him to his handler, and he didn't like the feeling of guilt and failure that it gave him. He could understand Taylor's frustration better now, though, if this was the way he felt every time he couldn't do more for his charge. He continued his petting as Taylor's breathing evened out.

"How's he doing?" a soft voice called from the doorway.

"Sleeping, finally," Rex answered, looking up at their old friend, Miller. "He has a concussion, the lieutenant guessed as much. They wanted him in the hospital…"

"Just wake him up every two hours and make sure he knows who and where he is," Miller advised. "I figured I'd find him here, when they said they'd released him."

"He still worries that I will be attacked here," Rex admitted with a gentle smile. "It is not likely anymore, now that others sleep down here with us also..."

"But he's a good handler, and he puts you first," Miller finished. "It's what makes you two such a good team."

"It is. But speaking of teams, how is Mason doing?" Rex asked in some concern.

"I think he's doing okay," Miller answered, but he sounded uncertain. "They have him in an isolated secure wing to heal, since they have to feed him more heavily. He should be out in a week or so, they said."

"And that filth that deserted him?" Rex asked, his eyes flashing gold briefly, but that was as far as he'd let himself go.

"Dishonorable discharge is what I heard them talking about." Graham's voice was grim. "Desertion in the face of the enemy and endangering his unit. No mention of his attempt to stake H394V, though." Despite all the time he'd spent with the vampire/handler teams, Miller still didn't refer to most of the Hunters by their names when speaking of official matters, although he knew all of them.

"Good; that will keep the rest of us from having to, figuratively, frag him," Rex said with no little satisfaction.

"How'd you expect to do that, chipped?" Miller asked curiously.

"It would have been harder with him, since he is prone to running from danger, but it would not have been infeasible to put him in the way of a hostile, then see that it was fatal. Believe me, it is a lot harder to keep a patrol's humans safe during a fight," Rex said fervently, his eyes hard chips of gold as he thought of the bully. "He got Taylor hurt; he was not in the position he was supposed to be, and I could not get back to Taylor in time to prevent this."

Miller looked down at the sleeping handler and nodded in understanding. "Just take care of him, Rex. I'll bring your breakfast down, and something for him to eat, once he can hold it down. You need anything right now?"

"We are good here. Thank you, Miller," Rex politely responded as he turned his attention back to his sleeping Pet. He paid no heed when Miller turned and left them alone once more.

~oOo~

A week later, Miller and Taylor sat at a table outside a coffee shop in downtown St. Louis. They had a pass—their whole unit's human combatant contingent did, and they had been chased off-base to enjoy themselves and the early spring sunshine. The two men had become close friends over the preceding months, and had split off from the main group of servicemen right after getting off the bus into town..

"Mind if I join you?" a man said as his shadow fell across their table. Taylor didn't know him, but Graham's face lit up in recognition.

"Riley!" he called out in greeting, his face lit with a huge smile of welcome. "What're you doing in St. Louis? I thought you were up north somewhere."

"I was, sorta," Riley answered, sitting down in an empty chair that Miller had pushed out for him. "This isn't an accident, Gra, meeting here, I mean. I've been… dispatched by someone in DC to come ask some questions around here, so I came looking for you in particular. I know—more or less—what kinda project you're working on; my boss started something similar, but still has concerns about your group."

"Uh, Riley, I don't think this is something we should be—"

"Hell, Graham, he sent me to find and talk to Hostile Seventeen about this last year, for God's sake! And he's been down here once already, checking you guys out. But he's got some concerns, like I said."

"I do remember a general coming through last year, Graham," Taylor cautiously volunteered. "He kinda stuck in my mind, 'cause he was the only really big brass we've seen there, before or since. Besides, you mentioned something called 'Hostile Seventeen' before this, 'way back when…"

"What does he want to know, Ri?" Miller asked carefully, yielding finally. His eyes darted all around the area immediately surrounding their table now, watching for anyone who might be interested in their conversation.

"He had a second group formed, but they—hell, they pretty much volunteered for duty. They go out with regular Spec Op groups, against terrorists." Riley Finn leaned back in his seat as he talked, looking totally relaxed, although he kept his voice down. To any observers, this was just a casual conversation among a group of friends.

Miller and Taylor were stunned at that news. "Volunteers?" Taylor asked, amazed at the thought.

Finn nodded. "Yeah—hard to believe, I know. Anyway, my general's been keeping an eye on the reports coming in from your group, and he says that, although your efficiency ratings had been slowly sinking all along, they've suddenly taken a nosedive. What's been going on, anyway?"

Taylor snorted in disgust. "What hasn't? The base commander hates his assignment, the second-in-command hates the thought of vamps, the medical staff would love to see why some of the pairs work so much better than others—by doing experiments on the vamps, or cutting them open—and almost all of our administrative types refuse to accept that our vamps have a brain to reason with, let alone possess any sort of feelings, like loyalty or caring. And they're starving our Hunters, to 'motivate' them to hunt and take out quarry."

"They're starving the vamps?" Riley looked between the two men, aghast.

"Yeah. Oh, they let us feed them," Taylor sneered, on a roll now that he'd started to vent his spleen. "We can give 'em pig or cow blood, but it's barely enough to keep them alive, although they insist they're getting enough. They're getting thinner, weaker, and slower. More of them are getting hurt now when they take something down on patrols, and we're starting to get hurt more, because our Hunters just don't have the reserves they need. Some of us have been getting rejected blood units from the Red Cross for them, but we can't get enough to help all of them."

"Riley, it's bad enough that some of the handlers still sleep down in their vamps' kennels to protect them from assault—and to keep Medical from 'appropriating' them for unscheduled 'exams,'" Miller added, shaking his head in disgust.

"I'm worried about Rex," Taylor admitted unhappily. "They've been eyeing him in particular lately—we've got the highest take-down record of the whole unit. The guys like going out on patrol with us because he tries to watch out for all of us, unlike some of the other vamps. Tell ya the truth, Gra, I've been trying to figure out how to smuggle him out of there to safety if I ever hear any rumors, even, of them coming after him," Taylor finished softly, looking at his two companions in defiance.

Riley Finn looked at the young sergeant consideringly. "There's gear been developed for the other group," he said slowly, "that lets them operate outside in daylight safely. I don't know what they did about chipping those vamps or not, but I would assume that any implanted chips are disabled for patrols, since they're used against humans—most effectively, I've heard." Then, carefully looking off into space as if not noticing his rapt audience of two, he went on, "I've also heard it theorized that a nice, big degausser, used at full power, will disable such computer and GPS chips as certain military units are suspected of using occasionally. Without, they say, harming the hostile implanted with such a theoretical chip. Or so I've heard speculated," he finished, looking back at his companions.

"What kind of protective gear?" Taylor asked, not even trying to look nonchalant.

"What size would a vamp like yours wear, in uniforms?" Riley responded with another question. "Maybe I can get Master Ripper to send a set out to you—for a field trial, all very unofficial and on the QT. After all, his group is a top-secret, full-black operation."

"Rex is about the same size as Taylor, here," Graham told his friend, gratitude in his eyes. "He's a good guy, for a vamp, that is. What they're doing to these guys is almost as bad as the old Initiative, only a lot slower, and without the vivisection—so far, anyway. Medical's pushing for it, though, I think."

"Shit. General Durgan's gonna have a shit-fit over this," Finn growled in disgust. "Look, guys; I hate to cut this short, but the sooner I get back to DC, the sooner he can start looking into this seriously. Watch your backs, okay?"

"Wilco. It was good to see you again, Ri," Miller said, shaking hands with his former teammate as the other man rose from the table. Taylor exchanged nods with him, then Riley Finn was gone.

Miller looked at his friend and huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Well, that was fun—not. I just hope we haven't kicked over the proverbial hornets' nest."

"We had to do something, Gra," Taylor commented unhappily. "It's getting bad down in vamp territory; I'm just afraid it's gonna get worse before it can get any better."

Somehow the day was no longer as warm, nor as bright, as it had been before their surprise visitor came into their lives. No longer enjoying the day off, Taylor felt an urgent need to get back to his vamp once more.