A/N:
Also, the next two chapters set into motion how these universes fit together and what's been going on in Buffy's world these last 22 years. (just to clarify, because I know when I read a little-known crossover, I appreciate explanations within the story/author notes).
***
Mercy Thompson – mechanic, coyote, and mate to a werewolf – was a no-fuss kind of gal. She liked that Adam didn't mind if she had grease under her fingernails and wore jeans and a t-shirt as her official uniform. It was even more special because Adam, like most Alpha werewolves, was a control freak. Everything was clean, pressed, and he always dressed with impeccable style in various suits.
She grinned as she pinned up her hair. Adam looked especially nice in a suit. Something about the way the tailored jacket fit his broad shoulders…
Shaking herself out of the memory, she finished getting dressed. Jesse, Adam's teenage daughter with his ex-wife, had just called to tell her that Adam was taking her put-putting. Thank god. Mercy could clean up nicely if she had to, but after the fight earlier she just wanted to relax
Unfortunately, she realized as she stepped out of her room and saw two men staring at her in horror, 'relax' was maybe not going to be possible tonight.
Adam, her mate, was the Alpha of the Columbia River Pack. His Slavic features leant to his beauty, as did his impressive werewolf muscles. But it was his sheer power that truly added to his presence. For years she had avoided being with Adam because of the fear she had of his power (not that he would hurt her, but just that he was a powerful werewolf and there were plenty of reasons to avoid those). Adam was the fourth most dominant wolf in North America – right after the Bran, the Marrok (leader of the wolves on this continent), and his two sons, Samuel and Charles.
Samuel just happened to be her roommate (and former boyfriend, but that was a very long time ago). He had moved in a year or so ago because, frankly, he needed it. Samuel was very, very old; and old werewolves don't last for long. They were immortal, sure, but that wasn't always a good thing. As the world changed and people died they tended to get a bit crazy. Her roommate wasn't crazy but he was broken. She knew that. He needed a partner but with her he had instead gotten pack, of sorts. Samuel had come back to Mercy in an attempt to woo her but they eventually realized their love was a different kind. He was still broken, but she knew it helped that he lived here.
So to have two of the most powerful werewolves in the world staring at her was more than a little intimidating. Sure, Mercy had grown up around wolves, but this was a different ballgame. Neither of them had been here when she got home but she bet she knew why they were upset now. She had tried to scrub herself clean in the shower but scent was a tricky thing.
"Hey guys," Mercy greeted with an easy smile. All she wanted was a nice date with Adam. After the experiences of the past few days (her vampire friend Stefan being tortured, the mistress of the local seethe wanting her head, and a powerful vampire in Spokane imprisoning and almost killing her) she really wanted to relax.
"Mercy, why do you smell like vampire?" Adam asked. His voice was calm and cool, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Nope, alpha wolves liked to get deadly calm when they were really angry.
Her shoulders rolled into an easy shrug. "Because I had some show up at my garage," Mercy answered matter-of-factly. Werewolves could sense a lie so there was no point in that. Besides, Adam was her mate and they had promised to not keep secrets from each other anymore.
Both men leaned forward, their expressions flashing to a protective and grim look. "What?" they shouted in unison.
Mercy tried not to fault them, she really did. Dominant wolves couldn't help the protective instinct towards the lower (weaker) pack members. Asking them to cool it was pretty much an impossible command for them to follow (and in an agitated state you definitely did not want to boss around an alpha wolf – unless you wanted to be bit).
For Adam it was even worse. He was her mate and took her safety very seriously. In fact, after he got Mercy from Spokane she knew Adam had been beating himself up about the (uncontrollable) fact that she had been kidnapped. This new situation wasn't going to calm him at all.
"It's okay," Mercy said quickly. "There were four and now they're all dead."
The tension in their bodies lessened but it still remained; an alpha is always ready to fight at the mention of danger.
"Yeah," Mercy continued in a careless voice – because she did not want them worrying about her – "they all went 'poof'." Her nose crinkled in bewilderment. "Since when do vamps turn to dust after just a stake to the heart?"
Adam and Samuel exchanged wary looks. "Dust? Are you sure of it?" Samuel asked.
"Well yeah…Is that normal? Because if so, I'm really annoyed that I needed to set the demon-possessed vampire and Andre on fire," Mercy scowled. Apparently walkers were known as vampire hunters (not that anyone had thought to tell her that while growing up; but she guessed Bran had never known, either. Not too long ago a demon had possessed a sorcerer who had then been turned into a vampire. All hell had broken out and she had killed him, and then killed his maker Andre. The stake to the heart, decapitation, and fire had not been easy, but she had done it. Strangely, she realized that staking those vampires had been much harder than the one she met tonight.
She wondered how that 'slayer' girl had known that these vampires would die with just a stake to the heart. Also, why had their foreheads wrinkled and where did the yellow eyes come from? Stefan, when he hungered, always had red eyes.
The wolves settled into their chairs; knowledge that the threat had passed had stilled the tension. "There are several types of vampires – or half-breeds, as some call them," Samuel began. "The 'dust' kind – what you met tonight, used to flourish over the world because the Change is a simple process for them. Instead of having to feed from the same human for years while exchanging small amounts of their own blood—"
Like Stefan, Mercy thought.
"—those vampires can be turned by being drunk from to the brink of death and then ingesting a small amount of vampire blood," Samuel finished.
Mercy frowned. That must have led to pure chaos.
"About ten years ago," Adam continued. "The numbers for those vampires began dwindling dramatically – because although they reproduce quickly, they are far stupider than the brethren that Stefan belongs to. Less powerful, as well."
"Now there are few remaining in America, although they still flourish in a few select other countries," Samuel said. His brow wrinkled. "To be honest, my da and I have yet to see one in at least five years."
"So what killed them?" Mercy asked. Silently, she wondered why they had come to her garage tonight. Yes, when Marsilia, the mistress of the local vampire seethe, had declared her a traitor for killing Andre and painted the magic 'crossed bones' symbol on her garage, Mercy had been told it would open invitation to lesser evil creatures to do Mercy harm, but she hadn't expected that to actually happen.
Samuel's eyes took on a faraway look; as they did when he delved into his past. "My da knows a bit about them but it was a secret order that did it." He paused. "They're called the Watcher's Council but their true weapon is the slayer – and somehow in the last twenty-two years or so they've expanded their slayer ranks."
Mercy's ears perked up. "Slayer?"
Adam must have felt something through their mate bond because he gave her a sudden look. "What did you see?"
Their mate bond – the standard connection for all mated werewolves – could be pretty neat sometimes. Not only could they feel each other's emotions easier (occasionally) but they could get flashes of memory and thoughts as well.
"That's who helped me, I guess. She was shorter than me, skinny, with blond hair. Called herself a slayer."
Their eyes widened. If she didn't have their attention beforehand, she definitely had it now.
"Slayers have a reputation for killing werewolves – and any other non-human," Samuel stated grimly. "If she's here, the pack is at risk."
"Tell us about her," Adam urged.
***
Buffy smoothed back her hair as she examined her reflection in the Mexican restaurant window. She had slept easily last night, almost too easily, and she had found it difficult to get out of bed this morning. Her dreams had led her down the path of an older, more innocent memory of watching movies at Xander's, and Buffy had found it hard to break free of that spell. Her dreams did that sometimes; they were so vivid that occasionally Buffy almost preferred them to the real thing.
She forced a smile on her face. It had taken a lot to find Oz and their meeting was very important to her. Buffy wouldn't let herself act morose around him. He deserved better.
A few minutes later he walked through the door. Oz was still very Oz-like, she was pleased to note. His hair was an electric blue; nice to see he still dyed his hair. Loose jeans and a slim black t-shirt with an image of Yoda holding a guitar saying "Rock out, I will" comprised his outfit. Green eyes didn't bother scanning the restaurant for her; suddenly his eyes were just on her and he began walking towards her with a crooked smile.
Buffy wondered if he could just feel her presence. Werewolves had weird super senses; she had learned that a while back after some run-ins with them.
"Hey," he greeted with a tilt of his head as he sat down.
The forced smile she wore on her face as armor melted down to a sincere grin. "Hey Oz."
No one had seen Oz since a couple years after Sunnydale when he helped them retrieve a slayer captured by a sorcerer in the Himalayan Mountains. That was when they found out that werewolves were immortal, because Oz didn't look a day older than seventeen, when he was turned. At the time, they didn't get why Oz didn't want to go back with them to work at the Council, but now Buffy was starting to think she knew why.
"Mexican." His eyes twinkled. "I see your tastes haven't changed much."
She laughed. Sunnydale didn't have many places besides the Expresso Pump and the Bronze but there was a Mexican restaurant there that she had loved. "Hey, I'm an L.A. girl. Mexican food is part of the culture."
"There's a large Hispanic population in the Tri-Cities, especially here in Pasco. Food rivals L.A. even." His eyes examined her with ease; she wondered if he was noticing how Buffy had not aged, either.
Internally, she rolled her eyes. Of course he noticed. Oz was the strong silent type that tended to notice everything.
"Awesome," Buffy replied as she looked down at the menu. "I'm in an enchilada kind of mood."
The waitress came and took their orders. Buffy and Oz conversed a little, skirting over important life issues that had nothing to do with being either a werewolf or a slayer. She gave him the updates on everyone. Giles was in his seventies but still going strong. He was the Director of the Council but was little by little giving more authority to Dawn, who was the Assistant Director.
Dawn lived near the Council Headquarters outside of Oxford and was balancing between being a career woman and a mom to three teenagers. Shortly after Sunnydale's demise, Giles was able to bring Kit (with her parents) and (a now-orphaned) Carlos to London to finish high school. Maybe it was the stress of almost world end-age, or maybe it was (most likely) just meant to be, but she had married Carlos shortly after high school. Carlos was a watcher with the Council, using a degree from Oxford in child psychology, and he specialized in slayers from troubled backgrounds.
Willow was doing well – and Buffy was glad that after all these years Oz didn't even bat an eye at the mention of her name – and she lived with her partner with several children they had adopted over the years. Sometimes parents reacted like how Buffy's did when she first told her mom the truth – they kicked the slayers out of their homes. Unlike Buffy's, however, the slayers were truly abandoned. So Willow and her partner, who also came from a bad home, adopted them.
"Who'd she end up with?" Oz inquired once he realized Buffy had never given him a name.
Buffy made a face. "It's really weird. I mean, they were working together for years and just got together a few years ago." Not that Buffy saw them much in the last ten years – especially Willow – but it was still a strange sight.
"Who?" Humor was evident in Oz's voice; apparently he enjoyed watching her squirm.
"Faith," Buffy answered in a rush of air.
Oz just stared at her. Finally he took a gulp of iced tea and shrugged. "I could see that."
One skeptical brow replied in return. "Really?" Buffy asked archly.
He smirked at her reaction. "They both tend to live in the 'now'; even though Willow is a planner in some regards, she's not in many others. Plus, Faith always had an affect on Willow in high school. I thought it was because she was jealous of her friend getting taken away," Oz said as he motioned towards Buffy. "But maybe it was something else."
"Yeah," Buffy said airily. "They do work well together," she admitted. "It's just so weird. Everyone – even Faith, who I never would have expected – paired up with someone."
"Who's Xander with?" Oz took a bite of his burrito and gave her a thoughtful look.
Buffy slammed down her the emotions that threatened to react. She shouldn't have come here to see Oz, not so close to the anniversary. She didn't want to rehash her life. Not now.
Oz's eyes widened slightly and he turned his eyes away as he stirred the straw in his drink. "When?"
Taking a deep breath, she fought to control her senses. "Ten years ago next week. Vampire."
Closing his eyes, Oz shook her head. He didn't have to voice his words. She knew them.
After nineteen years of fighting everything big and bad, how come a mere vampire had finally taken Xander at the tender age of thirty-two?
"It was my fault." Buffy was surprised by the breaking tone of her voice. How was it possible to carry so much grief within one person? Sometimes she thought it would break her.
"Why do you say that?" came Oz's soft response as he laid a hand on her arm.
His touch triggered something within her. Her defenses fell and tears began cascading down her cheeks. She was grateful that they were in a back section, alone.
"She took him, turned him, because of me," Buffy cried. Every emotion that she had pushed back over these weeks came flooding through her now. She hated her tears even while she loved the release of it all; a mild part of her wondered why she was able to cry now, of all places and with Oz of all people.
"He…Xander and I…" Watery hazel eyes met green compassionate ones. "We were going to get married," Buffy explained in a watery voice. Oz looked a little surprised, although not much so, and Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "Let's just say I realized how stupid I had been in my teens and twenties," she commented wryly.
"And what happened?" Oz kept his hand on her arm and Buffy reveled in the warmth it spread through her – and no, not sexy-warmth but a family-type-warmth.
Sighing, she shook her head. Her tears were diminishing but her voice was still rough. "Stupid Harmony, of all people," Buffy said, the bitter in her voice evident. "The fae were out and she wanted to vampires out as well – apparently she and a large group of vamps thought they could shop around a reality TV show and be famous like those Kar-dashing people." She rolled her eyes. "Most vampires weren't interested but Harmony had a sizeable group – and the Council knew if the vampires got brought out, so would we."
"Is that so bad?" Oz asked.
She guessed he was okay with the wolves being out.
Buffy shrugged. "If I knew the alternative, sure." She frowned and shook her head. "But if the slayers came out then we'd have to worry about our girls being taken before we got to them – or hell, even after – and turned into perfect little soldiers for whatever political cause. No, we have to keep them safe."
"So Harmony turned Xander in order to send you a message?"
Xander's image flashed through her brain. They had found him too late, four days after he had been turned. The sight of his yellow eyes…god, they still haunted her.
"A message? Sort of. Harmony thought if Xander was a vampire then the 'Queen of Slayers'" – Buffy made quotation marks with her fingers – "would have more reason to leave the vampires alone and let them come out, especially because Xander was a hero, thanks to his almost-twenty years of battle. Apparently he was to serve as a good example of why vampires were okay. "
She pursed her lips. Harmony was so damn stupid. "She had also planned on using Spike and Angel – on account of their souls – to serve as spokespeople too."
"But the vampires never came out," Oz stated with a quizzical look.
"Exactly. Because the bigger-badder vamps – the secretive kind Giles didn't realize still existed in smaller numbers – took Harmony and her group out." Buffy smiled then, a predator's smile, at the memory.
"And Xander?"
Her smile fell. "Willow staked him."
Oz moved forward in his seat, his jaw dropping just slightly. It took a lot to surprise the laconic werewolf, but apparently this did the trick.
Grief threatened to overwhelm her, but Oz's warmth kept her mind clear. "I wanted her to ensoul Xander, just like Angel and Spike…but she wouldn't." Buffy's lips pressed into a thin line and her hands squeezed together until her knuckles were white. "She said Xander would rather be dead than be a vampire."
"He did hate vampires after Jesse," Oz commented mildly.
Turning to him with blazing eyes, Buffy made an angry noise. But she wasn't angry at him, not really. It was just…
"He would have stayed for me," she said in a small voice, akin to a little girl's voice. "He wouldn't have left me."
"No, he wouldn't have," Oz agreed. Even before Buffy and Xander were romantically involved it was clear Xander would never leave his slayer.
"But Willow said that not only would Xander hate being a vampire, I would regret it later as I aged and he never did. It would pain him to lose me to mortal death and then he would be lost afterwards." Humor weaved into her voice, but it was definitely not the 'funny-ha-ha' sort of humor. It was bitter and ironic, and tinged with anger.
Oz settled back into his side of the booth and observed her. Finally, after a few minutes, he said, "But you don't age, do you?"
Buffy met his eyes, forcibly calming herself. What happened to Xander was a long time ago. She had managed life over the last decade without him but the pain of the upcoming anniversary had made the wounds raw and fresh.
She gave the werewolf a grim smile. "And that's why I needed to talk to you."
