Ink Blots

A Buffy/Watchmen Crossover

Series mentioned in this chapter: Speed Grapher, Xena.

Chapter Two: Late Night Walks 1/2

Had they been anyone else the Rosenbergs might have been alarmed, or at least curious, about the change in their daughter. For a pair of psychologists they were surprisingly unobservant as to the going-on's of their own household. Mrs. Rosenberg read more books by her peers on how to raise a child than she did actively attempting to do so to her own. Mr. Rosenburg was often gone business during the year and hadn't had a conversation with his daughter beyond greetings in five years.

As it was neither Mr. or Mrs. Rosenberg noticed the internal changes going on in their daughter. Part of may have had to do with Sunnydale Syndrome effecting them more than others; deflecting their professional ability to observe and dissect the people around them. Part of it may have been the idea that teenagers are teenagers and hence incomprehensible.

Willow didn't have any opinion on the matter. She was used to her parents hands-off policy when it came to her life and the uncomfortable memories that had bubbled up with alarming frequency since Halloween found their inattention appealing. Much better to be provided for and ignored than abused.

Much better.

Willow grunted and sent her fist into the punching bag with far more force than her previous efforts as she bounced around her fathers exercise room. If she stopped thinking, just took a breath and stopped trying to analyze and chase down the foggy memories, they rolled over her like a wave. The smell of old spice; the lingering tang of alcohol on the breath. A flash of dark lipstick against pale skin. Angry yells.

"Remember Walter: Do not let up. Do not give them an opening." A middle-aged man spoke seriously from the far side of a well used punching bag. Young scarred hands pounded into the duck-tape marked target. "In the ring your opponent won't give you any breathing room. He'll take any advantage you give him, and you'll do the same."

The red head moved back panting and sent a swift kick at the punching bag. For a split second the world shifted and Willow's leg was replaced with another's and her tape wrapped hands bore stained leather gloves. Willow blinked and relaxed as the memory faded into the back of her mind. She panted, chest heaving, and wiped the sweat from her face with a dark green dishcloth. There was a clock by the window and she turned to glance at it. Since she started her work out the morning light through the blinds had gone from a faint white to a healthy yellow.

Willow left the now sweat soaked towel hanging on her mothers treadmill and trotted down to the bathroom. Her reflection didn't look all that different from what she remembered aside from less baby fat. Hair fell around her face and stuck to her neck as she pulled it from it's ponytail. "Willow. You are Willow Rosenberg. Nerd. Computer Geek. Scooby." Sighing, the girl began stripping off her work out clothes. "And suspected escaped mental patient."

Energy had been humming under her skin and her body felt like she'd hit a growth spurt. Working out kept the pain to a minimum and felt right. As if she'd been doing it for years and skipping was... unthinkable. Willow turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. She sat on the edge of the tub with a slump. Everything had been so confusing lately with the dreams and the reactions. She thought she was getting better; everyone was getting better. Routines (some slightly altered) were being resumed and school had returned to it's normal Synder cursed status quo. Even Cordelia, who Willow was positive had taken to carrying a can of mace and knife around in her purse, had quickly gotten back into her Queen C persona.

But then Billy Ford came to town and screwed it all up. Angel had been suspicious and though she didn't invite him into her room, as the rough growling voice in the very back of her mind wouldn't allow it, she did do a background check on the boy. But he was human. A non-threat. Up to something, probably, but not demon-dangerous.

Willow hugged her shoulders and collapsed in on herself listening to the water run. Her work out had been tough. She'd hoped that she could loose herself in it, and in a way she did, but the problem was still staring her in the face. If I hadn't fought it, if I had done something first off they wouldn't be hurt. But he was human, with a soul. Three of the clubbers were in the hospital for blood loss, one with a broken ankle. It was only luck that no one had died. The red head bit her lip.

Billy Ford was dead. Buffy dusted him. She shouldn't worry about it anymore. It was over.

But if I had confronted him to begin with, after Angel came to me, would those people still be hurt? Do we have to wait for humans to turn into something supernatural before we put them down? The idea didn't sit well with her and Willow frowned as she tested the temperature of the water and switched it to shower. Some people considered turning into a vampire worse than death and on multiple occasions Buffy had said it herself. And yet she left him down there to be fed on or turned. He was turned. Then she killed him.

Willow couldn't say she approved. Billy was going to die soon anyway; with his disease that was a given. Why hadn't Buffy killed him outright? Willow knew that the idea should have disgusted her, the taking of human life no matter how twisted it was, but the knowledge of it settled in the pit of her stomach like a strange cold comfort. If they had killed him as soon as they figured out his little plan...

Willow shelved the discussion for later as she stepped under the shower head and reached for the loofa. Half buried memories tickled her mind as she scrubbed off the sweat. If men can be monsters, can monsters be men?

She still had school to get to.

"Summers." The substitute called in a bored voice.

Buffy rushed into algebra classroom. "Here!" The sub arched and eyebrow, shrugged, and marked her down on the attendance as the blonde slayer slunk over to her desk. Buffy gave a sigh of relief and took out her notebook and feather-tipped pen. She hated math class. It was her worst subject and the only one of which none of her friends had with her. Which meant for some seriously boring not of the fun times.

Especially since Mrs. Belowski had an unfortunate accident two weeks ago along with half the faculty. It was a pity Synder had missed the party. Little troll probably fit right in with all the monsters.

"Alright. We'll be reviewing chapter three and four today to see how far along your last teacher got." The sub called as he began writing an equation along the board.

Buffy cracked open her book to find many Willow-scribbled notes and hints. Awesomeness! This semester is just gonna be one big review session! Mom won't kill me for bad grades, I won't have any! Smiling to herself Buffy hummed quietly and outlined a few notes so Mr. Nestle wouldn't have cause to yell at her. He didn't look like the type of sadistic teacher that got off on reaming out the students like her old school's Mrs. Hayworth but with Snyder around it was best not to take chances. She already had detention for loitering between class periods. What else was she supposed to do? At least she managed to get it served with Giles. All he would make her do is a few exercises and maybe copy a chart of magical whatsits.

"...and then we need to group the X and Y values separate..."

So she basically had a free period. Without naps. Something poked her arm and she turned to see a brunette with glasses hold out a folded piece of paper. Briefly flashing back to her years at Hemry Buffy hid a snicker and accepted the note. 'My brother had this guy last year, total snore. MASH?'

For a second she floundered. What was her fellow inmate's name? Florida? Jersey? Maine. That was it. "Sure." She flipped the paper over and listed the categories. Number of Children: 1, 2, 4, 7. She snickered. Like slayers ever had children and what guy could stand to be with her? He would die or get kidnapped. She'd seen that with Owen.

That was the good thing about Angel. She didn't have to worry about him so much. Buffy smirked. Husband: Blonde, Brunette, Red Head, Bald. It wasn't difficult to imagine their future together hunting demons followed by passionate sex. She blushed and fought down an embarrassed smile that quickly soured. Her chest felt like an iron band was wrapped around it, like she couldn't breathe, and a pained feminine voice moaned in the back of her mind. Like a whisper ghosting through her soul the voice faded leaving only a vague impression of disgusted emotion.

Angel. Unholy demon. But he helped her, he had a soul. He loved her. False. Betrayer. Demon. Demon. Demon. Cold dead seed. Nothing good comes from the dead.

"Ow." The Slayer whimpered as she rubbed beneath her breasts in an attempt to sooth the strange constriction on her chest. For a moment she worried that some witch had targeted her, again, but she couldn't think of any reason one would. It wasn't like she was still on the squad. Buffy passed back the completed MASH form as soon as the sub turned back to the board to write out the solutions to the practice problems and closed her eyes with a sigh. Why was she thinking these things? She'd never been religious before. Angel was her friend and protector. They fought together. "At least until it gets too dangerous for the master vampire." The words escaped her mouth with a bitter tang before she even realized she was thinking them.

Once they were out though... Buffy fidgeted as she remembered when she first came to Sunnydale. Before she knew what Angel was, how he was cryptic and so-not helpful. How he admitted to being afraid of going into the secret passage and left her on her own to face an unknown number of opponents. Angel had left her to face the Master alone. Xander forced him to go after her; Angel wouldn't have dragged Xander along.

But then Xander had a habit of going into dangerous situations under armed.

Maine snickered and passed back the paper with her results. "Seven children? Damn girl, aren't you the little mommy?" Buffy rolled her eyes and took a deep breath as the vice around her chest finally loosened.

For having absolutely no faith in it's students, at least since Flutie was eaten and replaced by a half troll, Sunnydale High allowed it's students a surprising amount of free periods. Since they'd been in most of the same classes since elementary school Xander and Willow ended up getting the same free period. Xander was determined to use it for investigating. Thankful that Snyder never managed to get the metal detectors past the PTA Xander padded down the stairs and wished he could have fit his M-16 into his backpack.

No matter how oblivious Sunnydale was he was sure that would have caused some uncomfortable questions.

"You really think it's down here?" His red haired back up asked quietly as she nudged open the basement storage door. Xander knelt down and pulled a spare knife from his boot and passed it to her, not noticing the suddenly blank expression on her face as she flipped it in her hands to test the balance. He headed into the storage area and frowned at all the boxes. Many of them had labels of missing teachers.

"I don't, I don't know if it's down here. I'm not even sure it's real but..." Xander whispered with a shrug as he moved along the cardboard box lined paths. "If it is? If Giles theory of alternate timeline thingy's true it would be nice to have a little heads up before we're under seige by evil creatures from beyond the Hellmouth."

Willow smiled as she watched him move. Professional. Her best friend held his knife in an expert grip, ready to stab or slash, and he looked good doing it. A little more muscle and some stubble, add a cigar, and he could have walked right out of her comic book. It was a little creepy and she reeled her thoughts back in and looked around. She was supposed to be helping; not letting Rorschach run rough-shod over her brain. "I thought bezoars were found in goat stomachs."

Xander rolled his eyes. "That's Harry Potter, Wills. This is real life."

Willow lowered her head and peered at him through her bangs. "Um, Xander, how much about Jimmy do you remember. Like besides the technical solider stuff?"

"Like life stories and stuff?" Xander stepped over an upturned box and shivered at a clown figurine that had rolled out. He reached the far wall and continued on following it with his free hand running along the cement. Willow followed, checking for creepy scorpion wall crawlers while her ears strained for the sound of tiny claws. "Not really. Well, I think he didn't like his family much, but he had some good friends in his unit. His favorite movie was Robin Hood: Men in Tights. And I think he might have been gay, or bi. The memories are a little fuzzy on that. Oh! Bingo!"

They clustered around a crack in the wall and Xander nodded to himself as he used his combat knife to chip away at the crack. "Xander, I thought we didn't want it to get out?"

"Just checking." He twisted the knife and winched at the scraping sound before blowing granules of cement from the hole he made. Willow coughed and waved the dust from her face as she gripped her knife harder and squared her shoulders ready for any manner of creature to come slithering out of the break. Xander looked through the hole and hissed. "Sunnydale, we have a problem."

When he moved to the side Willow stood on her tip toes and looked through the opening, gasping as she did so. There was a large chamber on the other side of the wall with cracks spider-webbing throughout the walls and floor. Near the biggest crack a thin pink tendril was undulating, working the weakened cement back and forth to widen the crack. Willow jumped away from their spy-hole and braced herself against the wall. "Ew."

"So, yeah." Xander babbled while he spun his knife in his hands like it was a nervous twitch. "I'm betting that earthquake we had last year caused the breaks and woke it up. It's old, old, and we should tell Giles, maybe?"

"Yeah. Do you know how to kill it?"

"Blow it up? It's skin is bullet proof, so no hack and slash with Buffy, and that's after you move enough of the floor out of the way to expose it." Willow started stacking boxes by the wall to hopefully conceal the deadly gap in school security, spare knife slipped into her (usually decorative) belt, and frowned as Xander paced. One of the boxes bore the label of 'Jennifer Olkermyer' and Willow wrinkled her nose at the smell. Something had to have died in it. "But if we wait for that we'll have half the school under it's thrall. Probably."

"What about a jackhammer?" She shoved a handkerchief in the peep-hole and placed a box of old trophies in front of it.

Xander paused in his pacing at the suggestion, a grin forming on his face. "Willow, you're genius knows no bounds." He clapped his hands and holstered his knife as Willow handed the spare back since immediate danger was averted. "We'll report in to the Buffmiester and G-man, pick an assault time, and I'll bake a cake. Then we can go in, jackhammer blazing, and drop of the package!"

As they trooped out of the basement a ringing echoed through the school and Xander cursed. Willow squeaked and charged into the quickly emptying hallways. "Xander! We're going to be late for biology!"

"Giles!" Cordelia huffed as she mounted the school library stairs. "We need to talk, like now. I've got an appointment with my stylist in thirty. GILES!"

The native brit grimaced and gathered up the books he had been shelving before poking his head around the bookshelf. "Are you looking for something specific, Cordelia?"

The brunette rounded on him while shaking a finger like a scolding parent. "Finally. I came here at lunch and you were gone! You're a librarian, stay in the library!" Abruptly her hostile posture relaxed as she pulled her purse strap to tuck it under her arm and gestured absently. "You teach Buffy, right? Watchers know how to fight, I mean you'd have to so Buffy can be all butch and slayer-y. So you're going to teach me. I was thinking Wednesday evenings. There's nothing on TV and everyone goes to the Bronze on the weekends."

Giles balanced his books on the banister and crossed his arms as he stared down at the preppy rich girl. With a sigh he began polishing his glasses. "While I appreciate your... enthusiasm and assistance during times of crisis, I must discourage this sudden desire of yours. Supernatural beings are far stronger and faster than humans, it requires something extra to fight them. Buffy is the Slayer, she's capable of taking them on. In your case it would be best to run the other direction until help can be found." The Watcher spoke calmly. At least Xander and Willow knew their limitations and kept out of the major fighting. He couldn't begin to comprehend the cheerleader's thinking process but judging from the slightly darker complexion of her skin she was about to make her thoughts known.

"And I don't want to fight them! I might break a nail and do you have any idea how much a quality press-on costs? No, you don't. And that's not even taking into account the polish or how much beauty sleep I'd lose, not that I need it of course. No. This is a precaution." Giles made to speak while she paused for breath but Cordelia summoned her queenly authority and steamrolled right over the older man. "I've been content to run. But Buffy can't be everywhere at once," the girl rocked back on her heels momentarily before shaking her head and cocking her hip. "And what happens if we get cornered, huh? Or, Gucci forbid, everyone goes insane and turns. Into. Their. Costume? What am I supposed to do then?" Her designer shoes tapped out an upbeat rhythm on the wood flooring impatiently.

Giles watched as the cheerleader captain smiled brightly, hopped down the stairs, and gave a wave while calling back 'I'll meet you Wednesday!' Was I just out argued by Cordelia?

The doors swung back open as his kids walked allowing him to see Cordelia's back retreating further down the hall and presumably to her stylists shop. Xander held the door for the girls and brought up the rear. Buffy bounced in with a smile and dropped her bag behind the counter before turning and snapping a sharp salute. "Slayer Summers reporting for Duty!"

Willow and Xander copied her actions. "Scooby Rosenberg! Scooby Harris!"

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. First Cordelia and now them... "Did you two also receive detention?"

"Nope. We're still in the clear." Xander called as he went to the office to raid the mini fridge for some snacks. "But we figured you might want to know about the bezoar in the basement."

It was a good thing he wasn't eating, or Giles would have choked. "Ah, a what?"

Buffy pushed the table to the side to clear space for her exercises. "A bezoar! And not the rock, though we think it's as old as one."

Willow hopped up on the counter and kicked her legs. "It's a demon that makes babies and takes over your mind. Or something like that. It's in the basement. Xander's going to make bomb, explode it from the inside."

"Good Lord..." Giles cleaned his glasses thoroughly and looked up as Xander came out of the office, Twinkie hanging out of his mouth as he rummaged around his backpack before taking out a beat up book with a yellow and black cover. He passed it to Willow with a nod as he tilted his head back and swallowed down the hostess snack. "Where did you learn how to build a bomb?"

Xander shrugged on his backpack. "Solider boy. Anyway, I got to get to the hardware store before they close, might have to go to a few to get everything. Ladies, Giles."

Willow took pity on their father figure and waved her hand for attention. "Hey, I'll fill you in." And afterward she'd finally get to read the comic her character had come from. It had taken long enough for her best friend to dig it out of his basement. To be fair though, his family had moved things around down there so much it was a wonder anything could be found.

The Watcher sighed and went to make tea as Buffy started her stretches. "My children are all grown up... and building bombs. Slaughtering helpless demons." He smiled faintly and chuckled as he was reminded of the brighter parts of his rebellious youth instead of the dark ones for once. He should have known it was only a foreshadowing of what was to come.

The bell above the door gave a little chime and Harry snorted as he looked around the shop. He had never noticed before, but for a one horse town Sunnydale was as well supplied as some major cities. They had their own army base, air port, zoo, shipping dock, and mall. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked around at the displays.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, Sir?" The clerk asked as he walked into view.

Harry scrubbed at his hair. It was dark and messy with an extreme case of bed head; just another one of the many changes to his personality that had started cropping up. "Just browsing, really." He offered with a chuckle. "Been thinking about getting something for my niece, she just started a photography class."

"Oh really. It's a great hobby." Rick, as his name tag claimed, said without enthusiasm. He wasn't interested in the profession but the money to be earned by running the check out. Harry gave him a noncommittal nod and picked up one of the display lens'. "Nikon."

With the attachment held to his eye Harry could feel the power in his blood. It was a dangerous self destructive power that could kill him and had even blinded Saiga at one point. He wondered if he even needed the actual camera. "Click, click, boom."

Rick looked up from his crossword. "Did you say something?"

"No." Harry put the lens down and picked up another wider angle fish-eye. He was curious to see what kind of attack spread he'd get out of such a lens. Bigger lens would cause a bigger explosion, smaller cameras for detail work, and in some cases he didn't even need to be holding the camera up to his eyes to see through the lens. It was like they became extra eyes and their gaze carried nothing but destruction.

He added a few boxes of film and set them on the counter for Rick to ring them up with the extra camera attachments and cleaning kit. "That all?"

Harry nodded and pulled out his credit card. He wondered; if he got a hold of one of those observatory telescopes, could he blow up the moon?

She had to agree with Giles: Buffy's choice of music left something to be desired. Willow managed to get through a chapter of Watchmen and find the bestiary with the bezoar before calling it quits. She tucked a stake in her pocket and stepped out into the relatively warm california night air. There was a strong breeze coming up and she could taste a slight salty tang from the ocean. Willow smoothed out her skirt and made a beeline for the nearest street light. She'd promised to stay away from dark alleys and fully intended to keep that promise.

At least she intended to keep that promise until she detected the sound of hurried feet and a shambling. Shambling? There was the sound of something metal, probably a trash can, being knocked over and Willow gripped her stake while slinking into concealment. It was too easy for her, she knew, too simple to disappear into the shadows like she'd done it a million and one times. Hiding in the shadows was a decidedly non-Willow action. While she might cower in fear she didn't hide, and when it came down to it she would fight for her friends. Possibly run towards the disturbance to find out what it was.

She didn't skulk in the shadow and wait for the unknown variable to come around the corner. She didn't strain her ears to measure out distance between the possible victim and analyze her environment for the best weapons.

But that was what she found herself doing as a man came into the light, panting lightly, eyes filled with fear as he checked for pursuit.

Goosebumps rose along her arms and she could feel the magic on the bearded man. Willow stepped out, felt her eyes slip past the man due to what she thought might be a low level concealment spell, and shook her head while breathing the counter. Her own power was shaky at best from a week of practice but the man was exhausted. His spell was failing quickly. "Do you need help?"

"What?" The man exclaimed while striking out in surprised panic with a silver metal case which Willow ducked. She scooted backwards and made calming motions with her hands and ignored the desire to knock the case away from the man and leave a few bruises on his arms. "Oh. S-sorry. I, uh. Ripper. I'm looking for Rupert Giles. Do you know him?"

"Giles?" Ripper? Suspicion warred within her. The stake retreated up her sleeve as her eyes checked the street for any signs of the shambler. "What do you want with our librarian?"

Relief flooded the man's face. "We were friends when we younger, ran in the same circles. There's some very important information I need to tell him. He, he wasn't home."

Willow pursed her lips and nodded. "He's training Buffy. I guess I can take you to him." She turned and froze. Something smelled different. Salt and the smokey exhaust of civilization had been met by wet decomposition. She clearly remembered the smell from the Frankenstein case. "Are you a necromancer?"

"No!"

"Then move!" Willow yelled as she dropped to the ground and picked up a convenient brick before chucking it at a woman. Mr. Victim hedged, clearly upset about leaving a young girl to face their assailant by herself, but his own fear won out as he took off. Willow kicked the woman and bile rose in the back of her throat at the *squish* as her foot impacted the zombie's stomach. Pieces of flesh were falling off as the woman moved rage clear on her face.

"He's mine!" Unknown zombie lady gasped out as she gestured causing an unseen force to send Willow into a wall. Willow ground her teeth at the pain and pushed herself up. Mr. Victim was gone. The zombie was gaining distance. Willow licked her lips and looked up. There was a pay phone to her left but with Buffy's music on max they probably wouldn't hear her call.

What do I do? There isn't much time.

Before she could think much on it, Willow was up and running on some foreign instinct. She'd never done the saving people thing before, she'd been better at staying out of the way and being research girl, but some part of her had.

Sometimes what was really needed was a good fist to the face.

"Spiiiiiike." The insane seer of a vampiress called softly to her lover. "Spiiiiike." She trailed her nails over his arm leaving thin red welts of raised flesh. "I had a dream, Spike."

The blonde vampire shifted and rolled over to catch his sire in his arms. He breathed in her scent and cradled her close as she cooed at him. "Was it a good dream then, dead babies and headless kittens?"

"There was a kitten." She murmured as he kissed at the bruises along her arms that would never fully heal. The mob that had caught her had been clever: they'd used fire and consecrated iron with prayers and nearly killed her. Spike had taken several near fatal hits himself to get her out of danger and had taken half the town with him. Soon as she was healed and back to full strength they were going to go back and finish off that village full of ass-backwards peasants. Drusilla reached up and cradled Spike's face with one thin hand and smiled as her eyes stared into an abyss. "He had his head. He's a mean kitten Spike; he's going to bite you."

"Shhh, love." He took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. "I'll bite him first. No worries."

A wine escaped her and she stiffened, eyes migrating around the dimly lit room before settling back on her childe. "S'not just the kitty you have to think about. The fire is growing. It's going to burn her up from the inside, going to burn and burn and burn..." Spike frowned and held her closer as she shook. He'd thought it had been just a normal dream, but only visions took so much out of her and in her weakened condition they made her even more difficult to understand than usual. "...And burn until there's nothing left. Nothing but the ashes that make the pretty pictures."

"Dru, love. Is there something coming to Sunnydale? Some kind of fire demon?" He asked calmly. He knew her cure would be found on the Hellmouth. He'd paid a pretty penny for that information but if there was something bigger coming... he didn't want to risk Dru. But he couldn't leave without figuring out the cure.

Drusilla brushed back her hair and curled up in Spike's side. "No, no, no. She's not coming. Everyone's already here. Can we have a party?"

Buffy swirled the water around her bottle as she gave Mr. Panicky the stink eye. Little details jumped out at her and she inched her way to the checking counter and the small store of weapons there as Giles interrogated the new variable. She didn't trust his sweat-stained suit or evilly fashionable mustache/goatee thing. Then the fact that he was interrupting her planned relaxing work-out only hindered his case.

Stupid face-fur man.

"He's in Dee now, Ripper. We have to run, set up defenses, a trap! I know you've got to have something around here." The man headed over to the cage and Buffy followed him with an even more suspicious gaze.

Who's Ripper? Giles? And just what is he bringing to our door? The petite blonde palmed a silver edged dagger and hopped over the counter. "Hey now! We don't take orders, so you make with the 'splainy before I make with the sharp and pointy." She punctuated her statement with a set of quick jabs in the air. The man turned to her with a scowl.

"Be silent, girl! And put that down before you injure someone, likely yourself." Buffy stared at the man and scowled, ready to defend herself and do a little intimidating, but found she didn't need to.

Giles set his glasses on the table out of harms way and all but growled. "Philip!" Buffy blinked in pleased surprise and went to stand by her watcher all the while cleaning her nails with the dagger. "Buffy can more than handle herself. She is the Slayer. What I want to know is why you've come here, and what you dragged in behind you."

The now identified Philip paused to give Buffy a closer look. He pursed his lips and afforded her dagger a more appreciated status. "A bit on the small side..." Buffy began flipping the knife through she air and took satisfaction from his nervous swallow. "Rupert. Surely you've had the dreams? We all have. He's back."

Buffy turned to Giles. The librarians normal stiff properness had been replaced by unyielding hardness as the man stared down at his old teenage companion. "What dreams? Giles?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Philip." Giles ignored Buffy's question in favor of staring down the other man. Slowly he began rolling up his sleeves. "What I find so interesting is that less than a month after my dear friend Ethan rolls into town you show up."

Buffy's eyebrows rose. She didn't realize Giles could do the sarcastic intimidation so well. Philip blanched. "Ethan? He is here as well?" The man swung out an arm and pointed at Buffy. "She's a Slayer! It's her job to deal with demons, get her on it! It's you're duty!"

"What is and is not my duty is none of your concern."

"It bloody well is, Ripper! Eyghon is all our problem!"

Giles froze for a moment before his voice came out so cold Buffy felt a shiver go down her spine. "He was sealed."

"Not anymore. Last I saw he got to Deirdre."

"Giles?" Buffy asked carefully while keeping an eye on the interloper and mentally noting to look up this 'Eye-gone' thing. "You want me to lock him in the cage?"

"No, Buffy. I don't believe that will be necessary."

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes. Why don't you take the night off, see a movie?"

"Ripper I really think-" Philip tried to cut in but was stopped mid-sentence as Giles hand smacked against the table and his mind called up all the memories of just why they had called the man Ripper. It wasn't a name given out lightly. If pushed, Giles could and would make someone's life a living hell before ending it in the most agonizing way possible.

"Buffy. I'll handle this."

The blonde looked between the two men in agitation. Her stomach was giving her an uneasy queasy feeling that she didn't like. Still, he was her watcher. He'd tell her if she needed to know, right? And he did suddenly look alarmingly capable of inflicting any needed damage with his tweed coat off and his sleeves rolled up and his eyes squinting murder at the obviously evil goatee man.

"...okay. Try not to pound him too much, he knows... something... important. Right?" Giving the man a last meaningful look she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. She could swing by the cemeteries on her way home and see if there were any new bad guys in town.

As Buffy left Giles moved toward his office and hidden stash of booze. Philip followed at a careful distance and accepted a shot glass. Giles downed the liquor and eyed one of the last men he ever wanted to see with angry distaste. "I suggest you start telling me everything, starting with just how that demon got out."

Four pairs of eyes glared at each other in a staring contest to end all staring contests. A well kept brunette brow arched as it's owner brought her gaze to bear on the orange skinned demon across from her. The demon growled and shifted, burning red eyes drifting to the sword handle peeking out by the human woman's shoulder. She noticed his attentions and tilted her head with a smirk.

"Call." She challenged while throwing down her cards. It was a good hand for the game, not the best, but a good hand. The orange skinned demon gave her a sharp toothed smile and revealed his own hand full of clubs.

"Kal'ish tok-ni-croosh. Hal'bek." He sneered as he spoke and reached for the mewling pot of kittens and cash.

Katlin's hand flashed out and caught his wrist. "I don't think so." Her teeth were not nearly as intimidating as the demons but they didn't have to be. She gave his wrist a painful twist causing several cards to fall out onto the table. The sound of chairs scraping along the floor could be heard as the other two players jumped back with angry snarls.

It was a fact of life in a poker game run by demons that everyone cheated. Anyone who came into the game should know and expect it. The difference was knowing who and when a particular person was cheating and how far to go in a confrontation about it. Really, poker at Willy's Bar was just an advanced game of BS with ridiculously high stakes.

Katlin ducked the orange fist coming toward her head and used the demon's own momentum to pull him toward her and into the far wall. Luckily, the back room was built from concrete and as a foresight absorbed sound well. Spinning, the lone human in the room avoided the enraged charge of a game-face vampire as it engaged the orange skin. She drew her sword as the remaining leather wearing ugly as sin whatever tried to snatch up the winnings. Katlin didn't really care too much about the kittens, but she had recently learned how much they were worth on the demon underground and wasn't about to let the thing get away with her earnings.

Well, as much they could be considered her earnings when she'd been cheating with the rest of them.

"Hold up there, buddy." She warned while maneuvering into position and avoiding a flying body. Cramped quarters were always a challenge to fight in.

She liked challenges.

Willow hurt. Her muscles had been strained trying to keep up with the zombie lady, who was damned fast for a zombie and apparently had some kind of telekinesis working for her, and in the end she still got away. Willow's fledgeling magic senses had been able to warn her when Mrs. Corpse was about to use her force powers but she hadn't been able to avoid all of them. The red head had close encounters with far too many walls, trash cans, and on one occasion a parking meter. Her bruises had bruises.

She fumbled with her keys at the door before limping inside her home, all pretense of wellness dropping once she was safe and indoors. No way was she, or the decidedly angry voice in her head, going to show weakness when there were undead about.

As she shuffled up the steps to her room the high-schooler mused that at least zombie woman was focused. During their running battle the rotting creature wasn't all that interested in Willow instead focusing on tracking some sort of signal that only it could hear. Willow's attacks were nothing more than mosquito bites easily swatted away with a gesture. She wasn't worthy of the attention to take out, at least until a particularly painful maneuver that only a trained gymnast should even contemplate allowed her to get in close enough to yank off an arm.

Not that it had done much but piss off the baddie.

"Honey, are you okay? You know staying out late could harm your grades." Willow's mother's voice called from the master bedroom.

"I know, mother." The response came out gravely and tired as Willow swayed for a moment and had to use the wall to hold herself up. She was exhausted, tired, and the thing had gotten away from her. Pounded into her ribs, her face, then sent her flying and the only thing that kept her from becoming a smear on a wall was a hastily constructed spell that didn't even work right.

At least it managed to slow her momentum down enough to not have her brains bashed out and allowed her side to take most of the impact. By the time she had regained the ability to move Zombie Lady had disappeared to who knows where.

Willow let her bedroom door slowly swing shut as she collapsed on the bed. Flashes of pain went off like light bulbs as her bruises came in contact with the mattress and adrenaline ebbed. She rolled onto her less hurt side and felt an electric charge go through her nerves. Tammi, the maid, had come by during the day and picked up. Her Rorschach costume had been folded and placed on her desk with the black and white mask on top as if staring at her in accusation. There was a hostile and supernatural entity running about set on killing at least one person. It was evil, and needed to be put down.

The logical side of Willow didn't agree. While it certainly did a number on her, she was the one fighting it. Who was she to say that the guy didn't have it coming? Maybe he did something to it to make it so pissed off?

Still, the mask continued to stare.

Pushing aside her pain, Willow lurched up and over to her desk. She picked up the treated latex mask and ran her fingers over it to watch the pattern shift and change. Evil must be punished. But it had kicked her ass, as Jesse would have put it, and didn't even break a sweat. There is no compromise. What could she do about it? She didn't have the power to fight it with magic, and she could barely get close to it in hand-to-hand.

"That guy was looking for Giles..." Her thoughts wandered and just as her hand was drifting over to her phone it rang of it's own accord, startling her out of her train of thought. She picked it up and held it to her ear, surprised. "Buffy?"

The florescent lights of the grocery store were bright and sterile, as usual, and like all large chains left a clinical ambiance that caused men to want to leave and women to hang about the food isles comparing nutrition facts. Boxes of cereal surrounded her as Joyce pushed the shopping cart down the isle with her elbows braced against the cart. Her pen tapped against the notepad as she checked off the needed pancake mix.

The Summer's matriarch idly reached out to snag a box of Cheerio's. "Let me get that for you, Mrs."

Joyce's head snapped up to see a slightly portly man, his hand hovering just an inch away from her own near the yellow cereal box. He smiled at her and Joyce found herself giving a small smile back. The man tilted his head to the side as he offered the desired breakfast item. Joyce accepted it quickly and dropped it into her basket. "Thank you."

"No trouble at all." He stepped up, expression pleasant, and hummed to himself. Joyce privately thought his hair looked a little like a wig. "It is rather late, what is a beautiful woman like yourself doing shopping so late at night?"

Joyce blushed. She ducked her head and resumed pushing her cart, the front right wheel letting out a squeak when she turned onto the fresh vegetable section. The man kept walking along side her, content expression only changing as he looked into her cart and clucked his tongue at the many snack cakes Joyce kept stocked for when Buffy's friends came over. His attention was flattering but unnerving. She pursed her lips, mindful of the many warnings all women heard of night predators, and headed for the Bell Peppers.

"I had to work late," Joyce dropped the comment smoothly hoping to warn off the strange man. "I run an art exhibit, have to get there early to receive a shipment." I'll be missed.

"A very strong and independent woman." He nodded to himself. "I would hate for anything untoward to happen to you." His eye twitched as she turned around a display of tomatoes.

"Thank you for your concern Mr...?"

"Ted Bucanin."

"Ted." Joyce smiled tiredly. "But I don't believe I need an escort, though it's very kind of you to offer."

"I understand Ms." Ted blinked and walked with her to the check out line. "But looking at you now, I find it difficult to accept that I'll never see you again. You remind of someone I held very dear."

"Oh." Joyce blushed deeply. After her break up with Henry she'd been a bit hesitant about getting back in the dating game; how does one start after being married with child for twenty years? Some part of her mind rebelled and wondered why she wasn't more suspicious of the stranger. But was he really a stranger? He had introduced himself.

He accompanied her to the car and helped load the groceries. "I'm sorry, Mrs. I never got your name."

"Joyce. Summers." He took her hand and left a light kiss on it.

"Would you join me for dinner this weekend?"

She'd been in Sunnydale a year, and still felt like an outsider at times. She only a had a few friends through work and Buffy was always running around being a teenager. Getting out and actually talking to someone, non-work related, would be healthy for the divorced woman. Right? "I'd love that, Ted."

It wasn't proper, she scolded herself for the fifth time in as many minutes. A Lady did not wander around the grounds at night. A Lady did not come to her own defense. Her grandfather had been amused with her reaction to Sir Harold, but her mother had been absolutely appalled.

She should be in bed, working on her needlepoint. Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. She truly wished a knight could come and soothe her worries, all young women her age wanted was a man to come sweep her off her feet, she would have a few darling children to continue the family line and then retire happily. It was the dream.

But not her Dream.

Elizabeth paused as her ears strained for any noise however slight. Her gaze drifted toward the shadowed tree branches and she moved for cover by the ancient oak. She'd overheard the servants talking about suspicious deaths earlier. She prayed she was wrong.

Buffy was hardly ever wrong but Buffy had Sir Giles and Sir Xander. Two strong, good men to back her up.

Elizabeth worried that should she go to anyone, even her dear grandfather, she would be sent to bed. Possibly sent away to a convent until a marriage to an absolutely horrid nobleman was set up. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the thought and lifted her voluminous skirts as she went to the next spot of cover. Her eyes narrowed as she detected movement from behind.

She felt her insides knot. Slowly she removed a beautifully carved cross she had commissioned from her silk purse.

"Why what do we have here? A night blossom? Out waiting for prince charming, perhaps? Naughty naughty!" A voice hissed from behind. The speaker stepped toward her, confident, and his feet didn't make a sound.

Elizabeth could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was certain the abomination could hear it as well. She twirled with a most lady like cry of surprise.

The demon would have laughed. Instead it froze in abject fear as the wooden cross, carved expertly into segments of vines and flowers, lit up with the power of Faith. Elizabeth held her weapon with absolute certainty in it's power, in the power of God, and it showed. She stared down as the pale yellow-eyed demon moaned and its skin burned. For every step she took forward the demon took one back until its retreat was halted by one of the estate's oaks.

"Who are you?" It asked miserably. "You are no Slayer!"

Elizabeth shifted her grip higher on the cross reveling the bottom to be a sharpened point. Her only answer to the abomination was to plunge it into the demons heart.

She stared, hyperventilating, at the ash remains of the vampire. No doubt there would be a few more around her father's fief and it was up to her to stop them. Her grip tightened on the cross-stake and she stepped back. A few tears sprung up in her eyes. "My name is Elizabeth Yorkshire. I'm a Lady."

She wasn't chosen. She wasn't trying to wage a war on demons. She wasn't out to save the world.

But she was going to protect her little piece of it.

Elizabeth wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief and moved farther into the orchard all the while muttering a prayer. "And though I walk through the valley of darkness..."

End.

To Be Continued...