Title: Home and Heart
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer story.
By: Ghostrider
Summary: What happens when your heart is ripped apart by those you love? A slayerette's return after years of absence causes old wounds to be ripped open.
Rating: R
Authors Notes: This story takes place approximately 8 years after the events in the this season's last episode. Personally, I don't like the ending, it's too convenient. So I rewrote it to what I would have wanted to see. Furthermore, I would like to thank my Beta-readers Ozmandayus, Banquo and Scb047 for everything they've done.
The song 'Got you on my mind' is from the album Reptile from Reprise.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN own the characters.
Chapter 2
*** 1000 GMT, July 10th, Miramar MCAS ***
"So, Gunny, Colonel Nievsky really talked you into taking a three month leave", Ice asked as she drank a beer, while he was packing his clothes and toiletries into a duffelbag. Spoon and Burner were sitting around, holding their own beers, surveying the spartan living quarters. They had returned two days ago and had planned a welcome home party at the Bucket in Pensacola. Only Gunny had talked to the squadron's CO and had gotten himself a three-month leave. He had just started packing when his friends had come calling, asking him if he wanted to go to Pensacola with them.
"Yes, he took one look at my records and chewed me out for not taking leave since I joined up. He wasn't amused when I told him that I've been busy."
"I'll bet. He didn't by any chance ask with what, did he", Spoon asked innocently.
"No, and don't you start snooping around either, sir. I'd hate to have to kill you."
"Does that mean you'll tell us if we ask?"
"Burner, I used to work construction, I remember how to work a cement mixer, okay?"
"What's a cement mixer got to do with anything", Burner asked bewildered as Ice almost drowned in her beer from laughing.
"He means... oh, man!"
"Deep breaths, Ice. Man, one beer and she's loosing her famed cool. Lay off the sauce, Captain, it ain't a pretty sight from here."
Ice threw a pillow at Gunny, trying to wipe that smirk off his face, then turned to face Burner and Spoon, red-faced.
"I believe the former Gunnery Sergeant is referring to what is commonly known in New York City as 'cement overshoes'."
"Cement oversho – Oh!", Spoon said, a huge grin on his face.
"What? Someone better tell me or there'll be hell to pay."
"Burner, cement overshoes as in one of the more ingenious ways the Mafia took care of people who'd pissed them off?"
The look on Burner's face was priceless as he looked at his friends smirking faces.
"Told you if you'd ask that I'd have to 'take care' of you."
"Gunny, one of these days, I'm gonna get you."
"In your dreams. Sir", he added belatedly. Finally packed, he put on his garrison cap, took one last look into the mirror, straightened his ribbons and picked up his bags.
"Are you sure you don't want to join us and visit Kate, Alex? She'll be really disappointed that you didn't come with us", Burner asked.
"No, I'm sorry. I just have to get some stuff cleared up and I want to start as quickly as possible. Just make sure, she gets my present, will you?"
"Already taken care of, Guns, got it stashed in my bag somewhere", Spoon said.
"Well, I guess this is it, then. See you guys in three months."
There was an awkward silence as the four friends stood around, not really knowing what to say. Ice was the first to move and hugged Alex tightly.
"Take care of yourself, Alex. Keep in touch, okay? I'll miss ya."
"I'll miss you too. You've got my cellphone number right?"
"Speeddial number one."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be. It's the fastest way of getting to kick your six if you get into trouble."
"Who? Me? I believe you have it the other way around. I'm the one that always has to bail you 'officers' out of trouble. They don't pay me enough to do that, you know."
"Yeah right, delusional much", she asked smiling. Inside however, she had a bad feeling, as if this would be the last time she'd see her friend. "Just make sure you come back, we need you."
In response, Alex gave her a soft smile as he stepped out of the hug. Burner and Spoon were next, clapping him on the back, before taking him into hugs themselves.
"Big softies."
"Hey! We're Marines and these are manly hugs! Besides, aren't you the one who always says we've got to become more 'sensitive'", Burner asked smugly.
"Whatever."
"Take care, Guns and try to find a nice girl and date her. I think it's been way too long for you."
"Burner, keeping you outta trouble is a full time job that should come with hazardous duty pay. Sir."
"Me? Trouble? I'm the most even tempered person in this room."
"Yeah right", snorted the others at the same time, causing them all to erupt into laughter.
"Get outta here, Gunny. Your chariot awaits. Three months of freedom!"
"HOHOHOHOHO!"
Ice, Burner and Spoon pushed Gunny out of the base housing he lived in, towards the Ford Excursion parked in front and loaded his gear inside. As he stepped into the cabin and started the engine, he waved goodbye and drove off, leaving his friends standing there, each with a sense of foreboding in the pits of their stomach. A feeling Alex Harris had become all too familiar with in recent months.
*** Road to Sunnydale, CA ***
Alex was driving towards Sunnydale in the noonday sun, the CD player blasting out the gravelly voice of Eric Clapton. Over the years, Alex's taste in music had changed dramatically. No more Country & Western, just good old-fashioned Rock & Roll and Blues. It reflected his feelings a lot better than C&W ever had. As he was driving, he let the gravelly voice of Eric Clapton soak into his mind, calling up images from his life.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
He was going home, for the first time in over 8 years. Only, it didn't feel like that to him. Xander Harris had died in Sunnydale. The boy who couldn't get into college, who couldn't hold down a job if his life depended on it, until he started working construction. The boy, whose so-called friends tried to keep him from helping because he was normal. Neglected him because they were too busy with their own lives.
Tears begin to fall every time I hear your name.
Tears begin to fall every time I hear your name.
But since you went away, nothing seems to be the same.
His heart felt heavy as he remembered the good times, when he could pretend that they cared about him. He missed that more then he'd ever admitted to himself. But that man was dead. Killed by uncaring friends, killed by indifference. There were times when he missed the old Xander, always ready with a witty comeback, even in the face of unspeakable evil. Now, his only comeback was a well-placed bullet or a missile up the tailpipe. Alex personified seriousness.
No matter how I try,
My heart just don't see why
I can't forget you.
If ever it should be
You want to come back to me,
You know I'd let you.
Slamming his fist onto the steering wheel, his breath hitched, feeling despair cut through him like a knife. He missed them, all of them, with a pain that was almost physical. It felt as if someone had taken a blunt knife and cut off a part of his anatomy.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go
A part of him wanted to go and see them straight away, grab hold of them and never let go again. For the last 8 years, he'd let no one in. Sure, he had friends or rather acquaintances. People he'd put his life on the line for. In this business, you watched each other's back. People he worked with every day, but none of them came close to what he'd had with these people. And again, he wondered why he hadn't walked in, demanded to know why they'd treat him like that, like he was a non-entity. Demand to know why they'd trample his feelings like so much dust, to be wiped away. But the other part, the part that overrode all others, demanded a cold, dispassionate view of things to come. Whatever was out there, emotions could get in the way, throw off his game and screw up the mission.
No matter how I try,
My heart just don't see why
I can't forget you.
If ever it should be
You want to come back to me,
You know I'd let you.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
Taking a deep breath, Alex pushed his feelings down, into the deep recesses where he'd put them for over 8 years. If they met up, fine. He'd do what he'd always done, hide behind the stone-faced mask he'd perfected over time. Nothing was going to distract him. They'd made it perfectly clear what they thought of him.
*** 1045 AM, July 12th, Sunnydale, CA ***
The massive Ford SUV drove slowly into the cavernous, rundown warehouse, stopping in front of a medium truck, its driver leaning casually against the rear, smoking a cigar.
"Hello Harrelson, LTNS. You don't write, you don't call, I'm feeling neglected here!"
"Stuff it, Expediter, you know the rules of the game."
"No need to get your garters in a bind, Harrelson. You call, I'm here."
"I can see that. More importantly, have you done your name proud, Expediter?"
Motioning Alex over, the man, known only as the Expediter in certain circles, opened up the back of the truck, revealing it stacked with boxes in various sizes. Handing Alex a medium-sized plastic case.
"6 Motorola cellphones, untraceable numbers, encrypted on both sides. Only NSA's computers could lock in, but they'd have to have a definite fix first. 6 Motorola handheld radios, 24-digit encryption, also NSA spec. The rest of the stuff as you requested."
Alex hopped into the truck, opening boxes and checked their contents before closing them down. After a few minutes of silence, the Expediter spoke up.
"Listen, it's none of my business but this isn't on the Government's nickel, right?"
"You're right, it's none of your business."
"Yeah, but I still have to get paid and most of this stuff, it's made to order. Not to mention the fact that you put a rush order on it; that costs extra. You good for it?"
Alex looked up at the Expediter, his left eyebrow raised.
"I think you'd know better then I, how my financial situation is. If I couldn't pay, you wouldn't be here, now would you?"
"See, that's what I like about you, Harrelson. You've always known me better than those idiots I usually deal with. A piece of advice?"
Alex jumped down and followed the Expediter to the front of the truck, where a laptop lay on top of the hood. He handed over a blank, silver-colored card that the man slipped into a slot attached to the side of the laptop.
"Get out of the damn business, go somewhere warm and retire, watch the girls go by, get laid. Life is more then the next mission, the next kill."
Alex typed in the passcode as the access screen for the offshore bank appeared on the screen, followed by the 14-digit accesscode that granted entry into the account. He then transferred the funds to the Expediter's account, closed the connection and removed the card.
"What if I told you that I live for the next mission, the next kill?"
"Then I'd say you're a psycho. But you're not. You see, I've worked with all kinds of people over time. I can spot a psycho a mile away. You know how? It's in the eyes. Always in the eyes. Yours don't have that, my friend. You do it because it's something you've got to do for yourself. You're trying to prove something to yourself, I think. Maybe even to others, I don't know. This isn't you. Take my advice, get out. Or one day, you might find yourself to have become one of those psychos I talked about."
"I didn't know you moonlighted as a shrink, Expediter. If you must know, I like what I do. I'm a pilot and a damn good one too. I don't have to prove anything to anyone."
"Then why are you here, in your old hometown, buying up enough ordnance to start a friggin' world war, in private? A seemingly calm town at that. You're here for a reason and proving yourself is part of it."
"Just shut up and help me get this stuff loaded in my truck and leave the psycho-analyzing to the pro's", Alex said harshly, the truth of the Expediter's words hitting too close to home. Was he really here to proof something? Was he indeed on the path of self-destruction, becoming that what he hated most?
'No time, no time. No need to think about such crap; it isn't true. You're here to stop whatever it is from happening', he kept telling himself as he pulled box after box from the back of the truck and put them into his SUV.
"Listen Expediter, I'm a Marine. I'm damn good at what I do. I don't like killing, but I do what is necessary to keep others from dying. My 'Cloak and Dagger' days are over, in case you've missed the memo."
"Then why did you call me to get this stuff? Having a 4th of July party? Look, I've always liked you, kid. I'm glad you've changed designators again. Just don't get yourself caught back into this underground stuff again. I don't want to pull your broken six outta the fire again, like in Asia. I'm too damn old for that kinda stuff."
"Oh, and I should just say 'No thank you, sir, I don't want to do this anymore?' In case you've forgotten, I'm wearing a uniform and I go where they send me!"
"Yeah, they do, but when they ask you if you're interested in some more of their games, say no! I don't want to read your obituary anytime soon, especially not when it states you died in a 'training accident'! I've lost too many good friends that way!"
Alex stared at the older man in surprise, his words shaking him to the core.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me, Alex! I consider you a friend, kid. Stick to what you know, don't go volunteering for anymore suicide, black ops-behind the lines missions. Why do you think I took your call? I'm retired, for cryin' out loud! I wanted to see you, tell you this and hope you listened to an old man."
"You're not old, Expediter."
"This crappy business makes you old before your years, kid."
Alex put a hand on the man's shoulder, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It caused a lump in his throat, making him try to swallow a few times before he was able to speak.
"Thanks for the advice. And don't worry, I'm out of that crap. This, however, is personal. Putting old demons to rest, you might say. It's something I've got to do, alright?"
Looking into Alex's eyes, the Expediter could see the sincerity there. Nodding, he patted Alex on the shoulders.
"Alright, just be careful, 'kay? And think about what I've said. That's all I ask."
"I will, promise. Now promise me you'll get out of here right now. No stopping anywhere, just get in and drive away to wherever it is you came from. This town is not a good place to be, especially not at night."
Looking at the boxes stacked in the back of the SUV, the Expediter shook his head, a sad smile on his lips.
"Yeah, I guess you're right about that. But I'm thinking that that is gonna be changing soon."
He walked back to the cab of the truck, pulling out something.
"Got ya something", he said, handing the wooden box to Alex, who smiled when he saw what it was.
"You do realize that these are illegal, don't you?"
"Well, not much more illegal then what we're doing here, Harrelson. These are the best, courtesy of Castro. I know you've developed a taste for them, although I still wonder why Naval aviators and Marine pilots love these stogies so much."
"Look who's talking! I've never seen you without one!"
"What can I say? Guilty. But then again, they're my only sin."
"Why do I have a hard time believing that", Alex said, grinning.
"Will you get outta here, already?"
"I'm gone. Take care, Expediter", he said, hugging the older man on impulse.
"Take care of yourself, cowboy. If you ever need anything, call me, okay?"
Nodding, Alex stepped back into his SUV, turned around and drove out of the warehouse, towards his next destination.
*** 1135 AM, July 12th, Offices Queen C Productions, Los Angeles, CA ***
"Hello! Did I not tell you that I wanted Jean-Marcel for the designs? Who gave Paul permission to exist? So what will you do?"
The stunning brunette listened carefully to what was being said on the other side of the line, her eyes dancing with a mixture of anger and mischief.
"Good girl. Yes, get rid of Paul and contact Jean-Marcel. Think you are up to it? Good."
With a sigh, she put the phone down, leaning back in the chair, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead.
"I take it good help is hard to find?"
Glaring at her visitor through slitted eyes, she retorted, "I can see why you're a watcher. All those highly developed skills of observation would be better served if you could find me someone who'd do what I say, when I say it. Not take everything I say and do the exact opposite, Wesley."
"As much as I'm fascinated by the world of brainless entertainment, known as television, that's not the reason I'm here."
As Wesley Windham-Pryce didn't continue with his explanation, the brunette behind the desk glared him down; seeing that her patented glare didn't have the desired effect, she groaned and fell back into her chair.
"Wes, don't make me get up and hurt you. Spill!"
"Well, Cordelia, how does lunch at The Shack, followed by a stroll through the park and munching on double chocolate chip ice cream sound?"
"The Shack? Wesley, how... "
"Ah, that would be telling, Miss Chase. Let's just say it is part of my astute watcher's capabilities. Now are you interested or should I go out there and ask one of your assistants? I'm sure I could interest one of your female employees", he said innocently as he stood to go.
"Take one more step and you die, Wesley."
"Does that mean we're going?"
With a snort, Cordelia Chase got up, grabbed her purse and walked over to her old friend. Before she could place her hand on his offered arm, her world started spinning violently. Her head began thumping, as if about to explode, images running through them at incredible speed. Gasping, her knees buckled and she would have fallen to the floor, had Wesley not caught her.
"Cordelia! Are you all right? Talk to me! Cordelia!"
"Stop screaming for a second, Wes, my head is pounding", she gasped, her fingers digging painfully into his arm.
Wesley placed her on the couch and quickly walked into the small bathroom, grabbing the bottle of Advil and a glass of water. Crouching next to the couch, he handed her the glass and placed two capsules in her hand. Cordelia immediately swallowed them, downing the water in one long gulp. Sitting back, her head resting on the back of the couch, she placed a hand on her forehead, the pounding slowly subsiding to a dull ache.
"Feeling better?"
"A little. God, it has been ages since I had one of these. I'd forgotten how painful they are. Pen? Paper?"
"Here you are, Cordelia."
Cordelia Chase took the offered implements and began writing as she told Wesley about the vision.
"Something big is in Sunnydale, worse then the Mayor and the Master combined. I saw images of Buffy, Giles and the other Scoobies, you, me Angel and some other guy I didn't recognize. Also saw the demon that's responsible; big, powerful, ugly. Like I said, more powerful then the Mayor and the Master."
"I take it we should go see Angel", Wesley answered as Cordelia handed him the pad, on it a quick sketch of the demon she'd seen.
"I hope you can change those reservations to another time, Wes, you still owe me lunch", Cordelia said as they walked out of the office, his hand protectively on her back.
*** 1152 AM, July 12th, Offices Angel Investigations, Los Angeles, CA ***
"Angel! Damnit, Angel, where are you?"
"I'm right here, Cordelia. You know it's my bedtime", the vampire said, appearing bleary-eyed in front of his friends.
"We've got major trouble brewing", the brunette said, pushing the sketchpad into his hands.
"Nice to see you too, Cordy."
"Angel, this is no time to try and be a funny man."
Wesley stepped in, trying to avert another bickering match between his two friends.
"Cordelia had another vision."
This caused Angel to look up from the pad, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Are you alright? It has been years since you had one."
"No, really, Sherlock? I didn't know", she retorted sarcastically. "We've got to get to Sunnydale. That's where this demon is going to show up. And before you say anything, yes, we. I saw all of us in my vision. Doyle, if I ever meet up with you again! Nice guy, good looking in a down-to-earth way. Horrible dress sense, like someone else I know. Totally not my type. Only gift he gives me? A lightshow combined with pounding headaches. Nice way to win a girl's heart."
"Calm down, Cordy, and tell me exactly what you saw", Angel said as he led her to a chair.
Knowing that whatever Cordelia saw, was going to show up in Sunnydale, had shaken the souled vampire to the core. The last time he was there, he and Buffy had parted on less then stellar terms and he wondered if he would be able to survive her wrath, once she laid eyes on him. Not that he could blame her. But even if she didn't stake him, seeing her was torture enough for him. To know that he never would have another chance with her. It was just so damn infuriating and disheartening at times.
"We were all fighting that icky demon there", she said, pointing to the drawing. "Don't know what he's planning but it's big; he's very powerful, more powerful then anything we've ever faced."
Silence reigned as everybody in the darkened office thought about what she'd just said.
"Well, we took out the mayor and a lot of other very powerful creatures in the last few years so I don't see too much of a problem. It'll just take a lot of research", Angel stated, looking at Wesley.
"I'm not sure I've ever seen a demon of this kind before, Angel, and I pride myself on being able to recognize over 90 percent of all demon species that the Council has information on."
"That just leaves the remaining 10 percent. I fail to see the problem."
"Guys, when I said that this guy is more powerful then the Mayor and master, I meant it. I'm not sure even Glory could stand against this guy."
Cordelia's words sent a chill through her friends. Glory was a goddess and if what Cordelia said was true, then their chances had just dropped significantly.
"Something else I saw in my vision was some guy. I didn't recognize him but he seemed familiar somehow."
"Whose side was he on?"
"Ours, I think."
"You think", Angel asked exasperatedly.
"Hey, it's not like these things come with a script and character references, Mister Dark-and-Brooding! All I'm saying is that he did fight against the big ugly but that I didn't get the feeling that he's all too friendly towards the good guys."
"So, we have someone who might have divided loyalties. We should thread carefully."
"As in, we shouldn't thread carefully where this ugly demon is concerned", Cordelia said while rolling her eyes at Wesley.
"Yes, well, what I meant was..."
"We know what you meant, Wes. No need to get all upset. Okay, get your gear together. Cordy, we'll pick you up at your place in an hour. I'll call Giles and then come and get you, Wesley."
*** 1754 PM, July 12th, The Magic Box Bookshop, Sunnydale, CA ***
"Alright, Giles, care to let us know why we couldn't have dinner first before coming over here", Buffy Summers asked, as she and Faith walked into the training room at the back of the shop. Already there were Willow, Tara, Cassandra and Spike. Cassandra was the new slayer, called a few years ago when Buffy reached the age of 25. Still, Buffy patrolled even though officially she was retired. After all, this was Sunnydale, Hellmouth Central.
"Yeah, G-man, B. and me were gonna give those boys at Sergio's an eyeful tonight", Faith said as she grabbed a chair, turned it around on one leg and straddled it, resting her arms and chin on the back. Giles felt a pang of nostalgia run through him at Faith's use of the nickname Xander had given him. No one knew what had happened to the boy and all felt that it they were somehow at fault for his disappearance.
"You know you could always give me an eyeful, slayer."
"Up yours, Spike", Faith grinned back.
"Anytime, baby, anytime", he leered back.
"I think it is best if we wait until the others arrive."
"What others? Come on, Giles, I can hear that sinfully sweet garlic bread call my name."
"Novel idea, Buffy, knocking vampires out with your breath."
At the familiar voice, everybody turned around towards the entrance of the shop.
"Cordy!"
"Hello Buffy."
"Angel."
"Bloody marvelous! It's the gel king himself", muttered Spike, violently thrusting his cigarette into the ashtray.
"Hey Cordelia, how is showbusiness treating you?"
"It's going great! Yesterday, I got a call from Ben Affleck. He wants me to work on his next movie, Willow. I'm so excited! How are things here?"
Buffy watched as Angel came over to her, hesitance permeating every step. Strangely, she didn't feel a thing, not anger, not betrayal, not hurt. It was as if by letting go that night, she'd purged herself from any lingering resentments and negative feelings towards him. She could look at him and not have that familiar ache of lost loves, lost chances consume her, for which she was grateful. At least she could get on with her life, such as it was.
"Hello Buffy."
"Angel. You know, you don't have to be afraid that I'm going to stake you. Unless you're Angelus, then I won't hesitate like I did the last time."
"You look good."
"I've been better. What brings you to our fair town?"
"Cordelia had a vision."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Angel was secretly glad that Buffy hadn't attacked him and that she seemed quite okay with his presence. But at the same time, her rather neutral greeting hurt him to no end. Buffy was usually either happy to see him, or ready to chew nails and cut him to pieces. Tonight, she was neither. It was as if she'd moved on; it hurt him, knowing that he was no longer that important to her. It was inevitable but one always kept up the hope. This time, his hopes were dashed, taken away by her quietness. And it hurt, more then he ever thought possible.
As everybody said their hello's and got caught up quickly with what was going on in their lives, Angel handed Cordelia's sketch to Giles.
"Okay, I think that is enough of all the sugary stuff, people. You said there was a big emergency, Giles? Now we're all here, so spill already", Buffy announced as she stepped out of Cordelia's embrace.
"Yeah, Giles, what do you want us to pound into oblivion this time?"
"I hear ya, Faith, pounding is good, I can get behind that big-time."
"Just any kind of pounding or got any specific kind in mind, Cass?"
"Get yer mind outta the gutter, Spike", the dark-haired teenager said, punching the bleached vampire in the shoulder, grinning.
The new Slayer and the bleached vamp made a formidable team. Cassandra was almost as tall as he, with long raven hair, usually worn in elaborate braids. Green with yellow speckled eyes, combined with sharp features gave her a feline look. A look enhanced by the way she moved, gracefully and sinewy. She was a predator, a very beautiful predator.
When Angel looked back at Buffy, she averted her eyes quickly. The last time he had been here, they'd fought. It was a few weeks after Giles had finally decided to call off the search for Xander. They had organized a small memorial service for their friend and every night, before and after patrol, Buffy would go to the marker at the cemetery and talk to her friend. It was there that Angel had found her one night. The night where things were said, secrets revealed that had been buried for years. The night Buffy finally understood that she and Angel had never belonged together. It was also the night that had killed any hope of even simple friendship between them.
"So what's this big emergency then that has the big poof here come all the way from Sunny LA?"
"Cordelia had a vision."
Wesley's words silenced everybody; it had been years since Cordelia had had a vision.
"I take it that means something big?"
"Yeah, doll, the may queen gets these lovely visions from the PTB that foretell huge disasters of the undead kind", Spike answered Cassandra. "But it's been years since the last one; we'd thought she was finally rid of the damn things."
"Thank you for your concerns for my health, Mr. I-can't-get-enough-bleach-what-am-I-gonna-do."
"Cordelia, if you please? Tell us what you saw."
"Thank you, Giles."
As Cordelia recounted her vision for the others, Willow reached out and squeezed Buffy's hand, their eyes meeting. Reading the question in the redhead's eyes, Buffy nodded slightly, indicating she was okay.
"Any ideas, Giles? I don't recognize this type of demon and I already catalogued all the ones in my library", Wesley stated.
"I suggest Buffy, Faith, Cassandra and Spike go on patrol, groups of two. Since we don't know who or what we're dealing with, it would be best to be prepared for the worst. Buffy, you and Faith take the northern section, Cassandra, Spike..."
"Got it, Tweedy, southern section. You comin', Billyboy?"
"I ain't yer bleedin' Billyboy, Cassiopeia."
"I'll check out the warehouse district", Angel said, "Maybe something will pop up there."
"Good idea, the rest of us can get started with the research. After your patrol, please report back here so we can get some more research done."
"More bleedin' research! You sods are really cramping my style! I've got several Passions eps I want to see!"
"Spike! Big bad coming. Possible end of the world. End of the world equals no more Passions. So if you want to continue watching that dreadful show, you'll show up here!"
Everyone looked at Faith, mouths hanging open.
"What? I got something on my face? What?"
"You just said... ", Willow started to say but couldn't find the words.
"I just said what? I told Spike that he should get his ass back here ASAP after patrol instead of .. ", she started to say while going over the words in her head. A look of utter horror filled her face.
"Oh no, no, I didn't....", she began again as she turned to Giles. "Tell me I didn't, please?"
"I... I... "
"Giles! This is your fault! I've been hanging around you way too long", the dark-haired slayer shouted, before stomping out of the room, quickly followed by Buffy, who had a hard time controlling the threatening smirk on her face.
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer story.
By: Ghostrider
Summary: What happens when your heart is ripped apart by those you love? A slayerette's return after years of absence causes old wounds to be ripped open.
Rating: R
Authors Notes: This story takes place approximately 8 years after the events in the this season's last episode. Personally, I don't like the ending, it's too convenient. So I rewrote it to what I would have wanted to see. Furthermore, I would like to thank my Beta-readers Ozmandayus, Banquo and Scb047 for everything they've done.
The song 'Got you on my mind' is from the album Reptile from Reprise.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN own the characters.
Chapter 2
*** 1000 GMT, July 10th, Miramar MCAS ***
"So, Gunny, Colonel Nievsky really talked you into taking a three month leave", Ice asked as she drank a beer, while he was packing his clothes and toiletries into a duffelbag. Spoon and Burner were sitting around, holding their own beers, surveying the spartan living quarters. They had returned two days ago and had planned a welcome home party at the Bucket in Pensacola. Only Gunny had talked to the squadron's CO and had gotten himself a three-month leave. He had just started packing when his friends had come calling, asking him if he wanted to go to Pensacola with them.
"Yes, he took one look at my records and chewed me out for not taking leave since I joined up. He wasn't amused when I told him that I've been busy."
"I'll bet. He didn't by any chance ask with what, did he", Spoon asked innocently.
"No, and don't you start snooping around either, sir. I'd hate to have to kill you."
"Does that mean you'll tell us if we ask?"
"Burner, I used to work construction, I remember how to work a cement mixer, okay?"
"What's a cement mixer got to do with anything", Burner asked bewildered as Ice almost drowned in her beer from laughing.
"He means... oh, man!"
"Deep breaths, Ice. Man, one beer and she's loosing her famed cool. Lay off the sauce, Captain, it ain't a pretty sight from here."
Ice threw a pillow at Gunny, trying to wipe that smirk off his face, then turned to face Burner and Spoon, red-faced.
"I believe the former Gunnery Sergeant is referring to what is commonly known in New York City as 'cement overshoes'."
"Cement oversho – Oh!", Spoon said, a huge grin on his face.
"What? Someone better tell me or there'll be hell to pay."
"Burner, cement overshoes as in one of the more ingenious ways the Mafia took care of people who'd pissed them off?"
The look on Burner's face was priceless as he looked at his friends smirking faces.
"Told you if you'd ask that I'd have to 'take care' of you."
"Gunny, one of these days, I'm gonna get you."
"In your dreams. Sir", he added belatedly. Finally packed, he put on his garrison cap, took one last look into the mirror, straightened his ribbons and picked up his bags.
"Are you sure you don't want to join us and visit Kate, Alex? She'll be really disappointed that you didn't come with us", Burner asked.
"No, I'm sorry. I just have to get some stuff cleared up and I want to start as quickly as possible. Just make sure, she gets my present, will you?"
"Already taken care of, Guns, got it stashed in my bag somewhere", Spoon said.
"Well, I guess this is it, then. See you guys in three months."
There was an awkward silence as the four friends stood around, not really knowing what to say. Ice was the first to move and hugged Alex tightly.
"Take care of yourself, Alex. Keep in touch, okay? I'll miss ya."
"I'll miss you too. You've got my cellphone number right?"
"Speeddial number one."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be. It's the fastest way of getting to kick your six if you get into trouble."
"Who? Me? I believe you have it the other way around. I'm the one that always has to bail you 'officers' out of trouble. They don't pay me enough to do that, you know."
"Yeah right, delusional much", she asked smiling. Inside however, she had a bad feeling, as if this would be the last time she'd see her friend. "Just make sure you come back, we need you."
In response, Alex gave her a soft smile as he stepped out of the hug. Burner and Spoon were next, clapping him on the back, before taking him into hugs themselves.
"Big softies."
"Hey! We're Marines and these are manly hugs! Besides, aren't you the one who always says we've got to become more 'sensitive'", Burner asked smugly.
"Whatever."
"Take care, Guns and try to find a nice girl and date her. I think it's been way too long for you."
"Burner, keeping you outta trouble is a full time job that should come with hazardous duty pay. Sir."
"Me? Trouble? I'm the most even tempered person in this room."
"Yeah right", snorted the others at the same time, causing them all to erupt into laughter.
"Get outta here, Gunny. Your chariot awaits. Three months of freedom!"
"HOHOHOHOHO!"
Ice, Burner and Spoon pushed Gunny out of the base housing he lived in, towards the Ford Excursion parked in front and loaded his gear inside. As he stepped into the cabin and started the engine, he waved goodbye and drove off, leaving his friends standing there, each with a sense of foreboding in the pits of their stomach. A feeling Alex Harris had become all too familiar with in recent months.
*** Road to Sunnydale, CA ***
Alex was driving towards Sunnydale in the noonday sun, the CD player blasting out the gravelly voice of Eric Clapton. Over the years, Alex's taste in music had changed dramatically. No more Country & Western, just good old-fashioned Rock & Roll and Blues. It reflected his feelings a lot better than C&W ever had. As he was driving, he let the gravelly voice of Eric Clapton soak into his mind, calling up images from his life.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
He was going home, for the first time in over 8 years. Only, it didn't feel like that to him. Xander Harris had died in Sunnydale. The boy who couldn't get into college, who couldn't hold down a job if his life depended on it, until he started working construction. The boy, whose so-called friends tried to keep him from helping because he was normal. Neglected him because they were too busy with their own lives.
Tears begin to fall every time I hear your name.
Tears begin to fall every time I hear your name.
But since you went away, nothing seems to be the same.
His heart felt heavy as he remembered the good times, when he could pretend that they cared about him. He missed that more then he'd ever admitted to himself. But that man was dead. Killed by uncaring friends, killed by indifference. There were times when he missed the old Xander, always ready with a witty comeback, even in the face of unspeakable evil. Now, his only comeback was a well-placed bullet or a missile up the tailpipe. Alex personified seriousness.
No matter how I try,
My heart just don't see why
I can't forget you.
If ever it should be
You want to come back to me,
You know I'd let you.
Slamming his fist onto the steering wheel, his breath hitched, feeling despair cut through him like a knife. He missed them, all of them, with a pain that was almost physical. It felt as if someone had taken a blunt knife and cut off a part of his anatomy.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go
A part of him wanted to go and see them straight away, grab hold of them and never let go again. For the last 8 years, he'd let no one in. Sure, he had friends or rather acquaintances. People he'd put his life on the line for. In this business, you watched each other's back. People he worked with every day, but none of them came close to what he'd had with these people. And again, he wondered why he hadn't walked in, demanded to know why they'd treat him like that, like he was a non-entity. Demand to know why they'd trample his feelings like so much dust, to be wiped away. But the other part, the part that overrode all others, demanded a cold, dispassionate view of things to come. Whatever was out there, emotions could get in the way, throw off his game and screw up the mission.
No matter how I try,
My heart just don't see why
I can't forget you.
If ever it should be
You want to come back to me,
You know I'd let you.
I've got you on my mind, I'm feeling kind of sad and low.
Got you on my mind, feeling kind of sad and low.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
I'm wondering where you are, wondering why you had to go.
Taking a deep breath, Alex pushed his feelings down, into the deep recesses where he'd put them for over 8 years. If they met up, fine. He'd do what he'd always done, hide behind the stone-faced mask he'd perfected over time. Nothing was going to distract him. They'd made it perfectly clear what they thought of him.
*** 1045 AM, July 12th, Sunnydale, CA ***
The massive Ford SUV drove slowly into the cavernous, rundown warehouse, stopping in front of a medium truck, its driver leaning casually against the rear, smoking a cigar.
"Hello Harrelson, LTNS. You don't write, you don't call, I'm feeling neglected here!"
"Stuff it, Expediter, you know the rules of the game."
"No need to get your garters in a bind, Harrelson. You call, I'm here."
"I can see that. More importantly, have you done your name proud, Expediter?"
Motioning Alex over, the man, known only as the Expediter in certain circles, opened up the back of the truck, revealing it stacked with boxes in various sizes. Handing Alex a medium-sized plastic case.
"6 Motorola cellphones, untraceable numbers, encrypted on both sides. Only NSA's computers could lock in, but they'd have to have a definite fix first. 6 Motorola handheld radios, 24-digit encryption, also NSA spec. The rest of the stuff as you requested."
Alex hopped into the truck, opening boxes and checked their contents before closing them down. After a few minutes of silence, the Expediter spoke up.
"Listen, it's none of my business but this isn't on the Government's nickel, right?"
"You're right, it's none of your business."
"Yeah, but I still have to get paid and most of this stuff, it's made to order. Not to mention the fact that you put a rush order on it; that costs extra. You good for it?"
Alex looked up at the Expediter, his left eyebrow raised.
"I think you'd know better then I, how my financial situation is. If I couldn't pay, you wouldn't be here, now would you?"
"See, that's what I like about you, Harrelson. You've always known me better than those idiots I usually deal with. A piece of advice?"
Alex jumped down and followed the Expediter to the front of the truck, where a laptop lay on top of the hood. He handed over a blank, silver-colored card that the man slipped into a slot attached to the side of the laptop.
"Get out of the damn business, go somewhere warm and retire, watch the girls go by, get laid. Life is more then the next mission, the next kill."
Alex typed in the passcode as the access screen for the offshore bank appeared on the screen, followed by the 14-digit accesscode that granted entry into the account. He then transferred the funds to the Expediter's account, closed the connection and removed the card.
"What if I told you that I live for the next mission, the next kill?"
"Then I'd say you're a psycho. But you're not. You see, I've worked with all kinds of people over time. I can spot a psycho a mile away. You know how? It's in the eyes. Always in the eyes. Yours don't have that, my friend. You do it because it's something you've got to do for yourself. You're trying to prove something to yourself, I think. Maybe even to others, I don't know. This isn't you. Take my advice, get out. Or one day, you might find yourself to have become one of those psychos I talked about."
"I didn't know you moonlighted as a shrink, Expediter. If you must know, I like what I do. I'm a pilot and a damn good one too. I don't have to prove anything to anyone."
"Then why are you here, in your old hometown, buying up enough ordnance to start a friggin' world war, in private? A seemingly calm town at that. You're here for a reason and proving yourself is part of it."
"Just shut up and help me get this stuff loaded in my truck and leave the psycho-analyzing to the pro's", Alex said harshly, the truth of the Expediter's words hitting too close to home. Was he really here to proof something? Was he indeed on the path of self-destruction, becoming that what he hated most?
'No time, no time. No need to think about such crap; it isn't true. You're here to stop whatever it is from happening', he kept telling himself as he pulled box after box from the back of the truck and put them into his SUV.
"Listen Expediter, I'm a Marine. I'm damn good at what I do. I don't like killing, but I do what is necessary to keep others from dying. My 'Cloak and Dagger' days are over, in case you've missed the memo."
"Then why did you call me to get this stuff? Having a 4th of July party? Look, I've always liked you, kid. I'm glad you've changed designators again. Just don't get yourself caught back into this underground stuff again. I don't want to pull your broken six outta the fire again, like in Asia. I'm too damn old for that kinda stuff."
"Oh, and I should just say 'No thank you, sir, I don't want to do this anymore?' In case you've forgotten, I'm wearing a uniform and I go where they send me!"
"Yeah, they do, but when they ask you if you're interested in some more of their games, say no! I don't want to read your obituary anytime soon, especially not when it states you died in a 'training accident'! I've lost too many good friends that way!"
Alex stared at the older man in surprise, his words shaking him to the core.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me, Alex! I consider you a friend, kid. Stick to what you know, don't go volunteering for anymore suicide, black ops-behind the lines missions. Why do you think I took your call? I'm retired, for cryin' out loud! I wanted to see you, tell you this and hope you listened to an old man."
"You're not old, Expediter."
"This crappy business makes you old before your years, kid."
Alex put a hand on the man's shoulder, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It caused a lump in his throat, making him try to swallow a few times before he was able to speak.
"Thanks for the advice. And don't worry, I'm out of that crap. This, however, is personal. Putting old demons to rest, you might say. It's something I've got to do, alright?"
Looking into Alex's eyes, the Expediter could see the sincerity there. Nodding, he patted Alex on the shoulders.
"Alright, just be careful, 'kay? And think about what I've said. That's all I ask."
"I will, promise. Now promise me you'll get out of here right now. No stopping anywhere, just get in and drive away to wherever it is you came from. This town is not a good place to be, especially not at night."
Looking at the boxes stacked in the back of the SUV, the Expediter shook his head, a sad smile on his lips.
"Yeah, I guess you're right about that. But I'm thinking that that is gonna be changing soon."
He walked back to the cab of the truck, pulling out something.
"Got ya something", he said, handing the wooden box to Alex, who smiled when he saw what it was.
"You do realize that these are illegal, don't you?"
"Well, not much more illegal then what we're doing here, Harrelson. These are the best, courtesy of Castro. I know you've developed a taste for them, although I still wonder why Naval aviators and Marine pilots love these stogies so much."
"Look who's talking! I've never seen you without one!"
"What can I say? Guilty. But then again, they're my only sin."
"Why do I have a hard time believing that", Alex said, grinning.
"Will you get outta here, already?"
"I'm gone. Take care, Expediter", he said, hugging the older man on impulse.
"Take care of yourself, cowboy. If you ever need anything, call me, okay?"
Nodding, Alex stepped back into his SUV, turned around and drove out of the warehouse, towards his next destination.
*** 1135 AM, July 12th, Offices Queen C Productions, Los Angeles, CA ***
"Hello! Did I not tell you that I wanted Jean-Marcel for the designs? Who gave Paul permission to exist? So what will you do?"
The stunning brunette listened carefully to what was being said on the other side of the line, her eyes dancing with a mixture of anger and mischief.
"Good girl. Yes, get rid of Paul and contact Jean-Marcel. Think you are up to it? Good."
With a sigh, she put the phone down, leaning back in the chair, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead.
"I take it good help is hard to find?"
Glaring at her visitor through slitted eyes, she retorted, "I can see why you're a watcher. All those highly developed skills of observation would be better served if you could find me someone who'd do what I say, when I say it. Not take everything I say and do the exact opposite, Wesley."
"As much as I'm fascinated by the world of brainless entertainment, known as television, that's not the reason I'm here."
As Wesley Windham-Pryce didn't continue with his explanation, the brunette behind the desk glared him down; seeing that her patented glare didn't have the desired effect, she groaned and fell back into her chair.
"Wes, don't make me get up and hurt you. Spill!"
"Well, Cordelia, how does lunch at The Shack, followed by a stroll through the park and munching on double chocolate chip ice cream sound?"
"The Shack? Wesley, how... "
"Ah, that would be telling, Miss Chase. Let's just say it is part of my astute watcher's capabilities. Now are you interested or should I go out there and ask one of your assistants? I'm sure I could interest one of your female employees", he said innocently as he stood to go.
"Take one more step and you die, Wesley."
"Does that mean we're going?"
With a snort, Cordelia Chase got up, grabbed her purse and walked over to her old friend. Before she could place her hand on his offered arm, her world started spinning violently. Her head began thumping, as if about to explode, images running through them at incredible speed. Gasping, her knees buckled and she would have fallen to the floor, had Wesley not caught her.
"Cordelia! Are you all right? Talk to me! Cordelia!"
"Stop screaming for a second, Wes, my head is pounding", she gasped, her fingers digging painfully into his arm.
Wesley placed her on the couch and quickly walked into the small bathroom, grabbing the bottle of Advil and a glass of water. Crouching next to the couch, he handed her the glass and placed two capsules in her hand. Cordelia immediately swallowed them, downing the water in one long gulp. Sitting back, her head resting on the back of the couch, she placed a hand on her forehead, the pounding slowly subsiding to a dull ache.
"Feeling better?"
"A little. God, it has been ages since I had one of these. I'd forgotten how painful they are. Pen? Paper?"
"Here you are, Cordelia."
Cordelia Chase took the offered implements and began writing as she told Wesley about the vision.
"Something big is in Sunnydale, worse then the Mayor and the Master combined. I saw images of Buffy, Giles and the other Scoobies, you, me Angel and some other guy I didn't recognize. Also saw the demon that's responsible; big, powerful, ugly. Like I said, more powerful then the Mayor and the Master."
"I take it we should go see Angel", Wesley answered as Cordelia handed him the pad, on it a quick sketch of the demon she'd seen.
"I hope you can change those reservations to another time, Wes, you still owe me lunch", Cordelia said as they walked out of the office, his hand protectively on her back.
*** 1152 AM, July 12th, Offices Angel Investigations, Los Angeles, CA ***
"Angel! Damnit, Angel, where are you?"
"I'm right here, Cordelia. You know it's my bedtime", the vampire said, appearing bleary-eyed in front of his friends.
"We've got major trouble brewing", the brunette said, pushing the sketchpad into his hands.
"Nice to see you too, Cordy."
"Angel, this is no time to try and be a funny man."
Wesley stepped in, trying to avert another bickering match between his two friends.
"Cordelia had another vision."
This caused Angel to look up from the pad, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Are you alright? It has been years since you had one."
"No, really, Sherlock? I didn't know", she retorted sarcastically. "We've got to get to Sunnydale. That's where this demon is going to show up. And before you say anything, yes, we. I saw all of us in my vision. Doyle, if I ever meet up with you again! Nice guy, good looking in a down-to-earth way. Horrible dress sense, like someone else I know. Totally not my type. Only gift he gives me? A lightshow combined with pounding headaches. Nice way to win a girl's heart."
"Calm down, Cordy, and tell me exactly what you saw", Angel said as he led her to a chair.
Knowing that whatever Cordelia saw, was going to show up in Sunnydale, had shaken the souled vampire to the core. The last time he was there, he and Buffy had parted on less then stellar terms and he wondered if he would be able to survive her wrath, once she laid eyes on him. Not that he could blame her. But even if she didn't stake him, seeing her was torture enough for him. To know that he never would have another chance with her. It was just so damn infuriating and disheartening at times.
"We were all fighting that icky demon there", she said, pointing to the drawing. "Don't know what he's planning but it's big; he's very powerful, more powerful then anything we've ever faced."
Silence reigned as everybody in the darkened office thought about what she'd just said.
"Well, we took out the mayor and a lot of other very powerful creatures in the last few years so I don't see too much of a problem. It'll just take a lot of research", Angel stated, looking at Wesley.
"I'm not sure I've ever seen a demon of this kind before, Angel, and I pride myself on being able to recognize over 90 percent of all demon species that the Council has information on."
"That just leaves the remaining 10 percent. I fail to see the problem."
"Guys, when I said that this guy is more powerful then the Mayor and master, I meant it. I'm not sure even Glory could stand against this guy."
Cordelia's words sent a chill through her friends. Glory was a goddess and if what Cordelia said was true, then their chances had just dropped significantly.
"Something else I saw in my vision was some guy. I didn't recognize him but he seemed familiar somehow."
"Whose side was he on?"
"Ours, I think."
"You think", Angel asked exasperatedly.
"Hey, it's not like these things come with a script and character references, Mister Dark-and-Brooding! All I'm saying is that he did fight against the big ugly but that I didn't get the feeling that he's all too friendly towards the good guys."
"So, we have someone who might have divided loyalties. We should thread carefully."
"As in, we shouldn't thread carefully where this ugly demon is concerned", Cordelia said while rolling her eyes at Wesley.
"Yes, well, what I meant was..."
"We know what you meant, Wes. No need to get all upset. Okay, get your gear together. Cordy, we'll pick you up at your place in an hour. I'll call Giles and then come and get you, Wesley."
*** 1754 PM, July 12th, The Magic Box Bookshop, Sunnydale, CA ***
"Alright, Giles, care to let us know why we couldn't have dinner first before coming over here", Buffy Summers asked, as she and Faith walked into the training room at the back of the shop. Already there were Willow, Tara, Cassandra and Spike. Cassandra was the new slayer, called a few years ago when Buffy reached the age of 25. Still, Buffy patrolled even though officially she was retired. After all, this was Sunnydale, Hellmouth Central.
"Yeah, G-man, B. and me were gonna give those boys at Sergio's an eyeful tonight", Faith said as she grabbed a chair, turned it around on one leg and straddled it, resting her arms and chin on the back. Giles felt a pang of nostalgia run through him at Faith's use of the nickname Xander had given him. No one knew what had happened to the boy and all felt that it they were somehow at fault for his disappearance.
"You know you could always give me an eyeful, slayer."
"Up yours, Spike", Faith grinned back.
"Anytime, baby, anytime", he leered back.
"I think it is best if we wait until the others arrive."
"What others? Come on, Giles, I can hear that sinfully sweet garlic bread call my name."
"Novel idea, Buffy, knocking vampires out with your breath."
At the familiar voice, everybody turned around towards the entrance of the shop.
"Cordy!"
"Hello Buffy."
"Angel."
"Bloody marvelous! It's the gel king himself", muttered Spike, violently thrusting his cigarette into the ashtray.
"Hey Cordelia, how is showbusiness treating you?"
"It's going great! Yesterday, I got a call from Ben Affleck. He wants me to work on his next movie, Willow. I'm so excited! How are things here?"
Buffy watched as Angel came over to her, hesitance permeating every step. Strangely, she didn't feel a thing, not anger, not betrayal, not hurt. It was as if by letting go that night, she'd purged herself from any lingering resentments and negative feelings towards him. She could look at him and not have that familiar ache of lost loves, lost chances consume her, for which she was grateful. At least she could get on with her life, such as it was.
"Hello Buffy."
"Angel. You know, you don't have to be afraid that I'm going to stake you. Unless you're Angelus, then I won't hesitate like I did the last time."
"You look good."
"I've been better. What brings you to our fair town?"
"Cordelia had a vision."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Angel was secretly glad that Buffy hadn't attacked him and that she seemed quite okay with his presence. But at the same time, her rather neutral greeting hurt him to no end. Buffy was usually either happy to see him, or ready to chew nails and cut him to pieces. Tonight, she was neither. It was as if she'd moved on; it hurt him, knowing that he was no longer that important to her. It was inevitable but one always kept up the hope. This time, his hopes were dashed, taken away by her quietness. And it hurt, more then he ever thought possible.
As everybody said their hello's and got caught up quickly with what was going on in their lives, Angel handed Cordelia's sketch to Giles.
"Okay, I think that is enough of all the sugary stuff, people. You said there was a big emergency, Giles? Now we're all here, so spill already", Buffy announced as she stepped out of Cordelia's embrace.
"Yeah, Giles, what do you want us to pound into oblivion this time?"
"I hear ya, Faith, pounding is good, I can get behind that big-time."
"Just any kind of pounding or got any specific kind in mind, Cass?"
"Get yer mind outta the gutter, Spike", the dark-haired teenager said, punching the bleached vampire in the shoulder, grinning.
The new Slayer and the bleached vamp made a formidable team. Cassandra was almost as tall as he, with long raven hair, usually worn in elaborate braids. Green with yellow speckled eyes, combined with sharp features gave her a feline look. A look enhanced by the way she moved, gracefully and sinewy. She was a predator, a very beautiful predator.
When Angel looked back at Buffy, she averted her eyes quickly. The last time he had been here, they'd fought. It was a few weeks after Giles had finally decided to call off the search for Xander. They had organized a small memorial service for their friend and every night, before and after patrol, Buffy would go to the marker at the cemetery and talk to her friend. It was there that Angel had found her one night. The night where things were said, secrets revealed that had been buried for years. The night Buffy finally understood that she and Angel had never belonged together. It was also the night that had killed any hope of even simple friendship between them.
"So what's this big emergency then that has the big poof here come all the way from Sunny LA?"
"Cordelia had a vision."
Wesley's words silenced everybody; it had been years since Cordelia had had a vision.
"I take it that means something big?"
"Yeah, doll, the may queen gets these lovely visions from the PTB that foretell huge disasters of the undead kind", Spike answered Cassandra. "But it's been years since the last one; we'd thought she was finally rid of the damn things."
"Thank you for your concerns for my health, Mr. I-can't-get-enough-bleach-what-am-I-gonna-do."
"Cordelia, if you please? Tell us what you saw."
"Thank you, Giles."
As Cordelia recounted her vision for the others, Willow reached out and squeezed Buffy's hand, their eyes meeting. Reading the question in the redhead's eyes, Buffy nodded slightly, indicating she was okay.
"Any ideas, Giles? I don't recognize this type of demon and I already catalogued all the ones in my library", Wesley stated.
"I suggest Buffy, Faith, Cassandra and Spike go on patrol, groups of two. Since we don't know who or what we're dealing with, it would be best to be prepared for the worst. Buffy, you and Faith take the northern section, Cassandra, Spike..."
"Got it, Tweedy, southern section. You comin', Billyboy?"
"I ain't yer bleedin' Billyboy, Cassiopeia."
"I'll check out the warehouse district", Angel said, "Maybe something will pop up there."
"Good idea, the rest of us can get started with the research. After your patrol, please report back here so we can get some more research done."
"More bleedin' research! You sods are really cramping my style! I've got several Passions eps I want to see!"
"Spike! Big bad coming. Possible end of the world. End of the world equals no more Passions. So if you want to continue watching that dreadful show, you'll show up here!"
Everyone looked at Faith, mouths hanging open.
"What? I got something on my face? What?"
"You just said... ", Willow started to say but couldn't find the words.
"I just said what? I told Spike that he should get his ass back here ASAP after patrol instead of .. ", she started to say while going over the words in her head. A look of utter horror filled her face.
"Oh no, no, I didn't....", she began again as she turned to Giles. "Tell me I didn't, please?"
"I... I... "
"Giles! This is your fault! I've been hanging around you way too long", the dark-haired slayer shouted, before stomping out of the room, quickly followed by Buffy, who had a hard time controlling the threatening smirk on her face.