Chapter Four: Long Day pt3

The pale yellow sun did little to provide any kind of real warmth or take the damp chill out of the cool northwest, autumn air. Duncan pulled up to the Seattle Border Station and slipped his classic black Mustang convertible into park after coming to a stop. He had the soft top down enjoying the feel of the sun on his face.

Following the soldiers directions he turned the car off. He smiled pleasantly as he looked at the hard face young man. "How're you doing?" He asked handing over his license and vehicle registration.

"Exit the car sir." His voice wasn't hostile. It was hard and expected his orders to be obeyed without question.

Duncan sighed softly, not disgruntled, just in remembrance of when America was the land of the free. While it wasn't like living in Nazi Germany or behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War, it definitely wasn't the country he remembered from three hundred or so years ago; just after they threw off England's oppressive yolk.

Being a Scotsman, born and bred to the bone, he instinctively respected anyone that could thumb their nose at Great Britain and get away with it. Nobody had expected America to last, but they had; growing and eventually became the most powerful nation the world had ever seen.

It was part of the reason they became such a magnet for terrorist attacks like they had; from the World Trade Centers to the Pulse. While those two events had rocked America they had hardly toppled the super power. They simple made the country stand up and harden their doctrine and procedures; both abroad and internally.

Oddly enough, no one credible had ever taken credit for the Pulse.

Duncan pushed open the door as he grabbed the brown satchel and slid out of the convertible. He knew he should act more intimidated than he was; only he had been through tighter checkpoints with less preparations and more to hide. Everything here was actually above board and legal.

"Anything to declare?" The soldier questioned as Duncan closed the door.

Duncan opened the satchel saying, "just a few antiques I found a buyer for. All the paperwork's in order." He pulled out a handful of official documents. "They're all in the trunk."

He took the paperwork giving them a quick once over. "Your trip to Seattle is business than?"

"Would you come here otherwise?"

A bare hint of a smile creased the soldier's lips as he wrote something down. "Open the trunk Mr. Macleod and then stand in the designated area."

Duncan reached back into the Mustang and pulled the keys from the ignition. His gaze swept over the heavily armed compound. Soldiers were busy going over other vehicles with a fine tooth comb. Extended mirrors allowed them to search under cars for contraband while dogs circled each vehicle. He can't help the slight grimace that slipped over his lips. He definitely liked America better before Two thousand and one.

Doing as he was instructed he opened the trunk and then moved into the designated area. Soldiers swarmed over his car and he couldn't help the deepening of his frown as he remembered what America had been like; what the country had stood for. It was hardly the most oppressive time in American history; it didn't come close to the violence that permeated the country just prior to the Civil War.

Even for a seasoned warrior this was still a dangerous place; never mind for a pair of sheltered teenagers. Hopefully he would be able to use Cale's contacts and find them without too much hassle. Children like Christian and Bella Donna tended to stand out like sore thumbs just being who they were.

He could still remember meeting them for the first time; after Methos and Dawn set Buffy and him up on one of the countless blind dates they were constantly arranging. While nothing romantic or even physical ever developed between them, they had become close friends. The same emotional baggage that prevented the one actually led to the other. After awhile, when he went to New York or she came out to San Francisco they would get together just to avoid the annoying set up.

They were supposed to hook up with Dawn and Methos - Julian as he was now known - at one of Little Italy's better restaurants. Buffy thought it would be a good way of letting their would be match makers know they were on to them.

Buffy had warned him about her twins; that they could be a little disconcerting.

Disconcerting was a little mild as far as he was concerned. Good children, but he doubted if anyone would ever consider them anything but odd.

One moment they were there. The next they weren't. At no time did he ever take his eyes off of them. They would finish each other's sentences; which wasn't that unusual for twins, especially those as close as Bella Donna and Christian.

Answering questions that had never been asked, or having part of a conversation with only one or two words flying back and forth between them.

That had been a little unsettling.

Only, in his life Duncan had seen a lot of unusual things. Two children who seemed to have a telepathic link weren't the strangest. Even two sisters that didn't look a day older than the first time he had seen them close to a decade ago. They had their secrets just like he did; and since nobody felt all that inclined to ask the tough question, everyone simply maintained the status and continued to play their cards close to the vest.

With the mutant presence becoming more prevalent with each year that passed, and the hysteria that was building around the volatile topic everyday; Duncan simply believed Buffy and Dawn were mutants; that the girl's didn't tell them because they weren't sure if he and Methos could be trusted, didn't know if one of them would go racing to the nearest federal building to report them.

Duncan understood the feeling. There had been a lot of people he had thought capable of handling the truth about him but weren't; that ran off, thought him insane, or tried to kill him.

What mutants were facing now was what Immortals would face if their existence became common knowledge. Only it was a thousand times worse then anything Duncan had thought possible. A thousand times a thousand.

Duncan was willing to tell them, but Methos didn't want risk what he had with Dawn. Since Methos had more to lose Duncan left the decision in his hands.

"You're good to go." The soldier's words snap Duncan out of his reverie. He thrust Duncan's papers out toward him.

Duncan took his license and the documentation and shoved them back into his satchel. After checking the crates to make sure they were still unopened and his seals intact he closed his trunk, tossed his satchel back into the passenger side of the Mustang, then slid behind the steering wheel. Starting the car he closed the door as the gate began to rise.

"Have a good day," Duncan said as he slowly pulled ahead. There wasn't any need to make the soldiers suspicious of him now that he was inside the Seattle; but manners were still manners.


Brilliant sunlight washed the plush office with its warmth. After only seeing the sun once in more then two hundred years Angel stood in front of the large window basking in its glow without fear; the magically imbued windows prevented what would normally be a quite painful demise to someone of his stature. This was how he spent everyday; from sunrise to sunset - one office on the east side and one on the west - enjoying a warmth others of his kind only ever dreamed of feeling on their flesh. Normally in their nightmares as they burst into flames.

He picked the smoldering cigar up from where it had been. Bringing it to his mouth he puffed slightly filling the room with the fragrant aroma and a cloud of white smoke.

A slow smile split his lips. He couldn't help but enjoy being who he was. It was very good to be him; Angel, chief executive officer of Wolfram & Hart. Los Angeles was his city; the West Coast, everything this side of the Rocky Mountains, the entire Pacific Rim - with the exception of Hawaii - was his territory. He ruled not only with an iron fist, but also with subtle manipulations; coercion, death, fear, greed, vice; everything that made mankind so malleable… so corruptible.

Nothing went on here that he didn't know about.

Almost nothing.

There was still that incident with the Pulse and the Senior Partners lack of information on the subject. It had taken out a good chunk of his powerbase and if he didn't know better - which he didn't - he would think they wanted to keep him in his place. Not let his head get too big for his hat so to speak.

He looked down at the folder on his table; it had taken his research team all of a half hour to dredge through Special Operations uncovering this little gem. The project was open ended despite the fact its architect - one William Stryker - was officially dead. He had been one of those rare humans that Angel actually felt a touch of kinship with. He was as cold and calculating a creature as the ensouled vampire had ever met before and was capable of using anything that would achieve the ends he wanted. He had operated on, mutilated his own son, turned him into a weapon, all in an attempt to exact his revenge on those he blamed for the death of his wife; Charles Xavier, and by extension the rest of the mutant population.

Stryker had almost succeeded; than again Magneto had almost pulled the ultimate coup; usurping Stryker's plan and instilling a few wrinkles all his own; wrinkles that came close to killing every human on the planet. Magneto was turning out to be one extremely dangerous individual, almost too dangerous to be allowed to live. The mutant was a wild card; an idealist, a radical, and an extremist. He operated outside the normal framework of most power mongers; which meant that Wolfram & Hart was kept almost completely out of the loop.

The project in question though wasn't the Mutant Extinction, but one that had begun thirty years before that.

Weapon X.

The two were intermingled, but one really had nothing to do with the other.

The Weapon X Project was a process that would bond a nigh unbreakable metal to a human's bones. The problem the project had was that all of their "volunteers" would die during the procedure. Solution: find someone that can survive the procedure.

There had been several candidates; Victor Creed, Yukio, and James Howlette a.k.a. Logan. Holland had chosen Howlette for one very simple reason; he was an operative of a rival interdimensional firm Landue, Luckman, and Lake.

Angel had never heard of them before opening the file. The Senior Partners had never mentioned them, but according to the file they were an extensive organization. His research staff was going to be working a lot of overtime this weekend bringing him up to speed on the current status of Landue, Luckman, and Lake.

"William," he said pleasantly as the black door opened. Like always his best operative didn't bother to announce himself, or wait for his summons before waltzing into his office. No matter how much some things change, others never did. William was still the most aggravating person he has ever had the displeasure of meeting; just as he had been when Drusilla turned him more than a hundred and thirty years ago without his knowledge, or more importantly, his permission.

For years William had been a thorn in his side; nettling him back in the old days, getting them run out of London within days of his turning, gloating about killing a slayer in China, his entire in your face attitude had always grated on Angel's sensibilities. There was also the name he had chosen for himself; Spike.

A name Angel made sure never to reference in the eighteen years since he had found William; alive and comatose in a local Los Angeles hospital a few months after the destruction of Sunnydale. He didn't know how it happened - something to do with the amulet more then likely - but Spike had been the one to Shanshu; to regain his humanity and not him.

Once again Spike had managed to appropriate what belonged to him; his destiny, Buffy's love. There was no way he was going to let him have the woman herself, and Angel simply knew if he ever woke from his coma; that was exactly what would happen. So he called in a few favors, made a few calls. Out with the old and in with the new and voilà, just like that there was a whole new Spike.

Angel watched with keen interest as William entered the office; a knowing little smirk - like he knew something no one else did - curved the corners of his lips. His looks were still the fantasy fodder for most women whose gaze had the chance to fall on him, probably quite a few men as well. The hair he had bleached so religiously was back to its original dirty blonde, almost golden brown coloring. While it was longer then it had been during the early part of the nineteen hundreds, with a few unruly locks dipping in front of his eyes, while most was pulled into a loose tail that was bond with a piece of leather cord.

Gone were the old clothes Spike had loved so much; no more duster, black jeans, and too tight t-shirt. What he wore today cost enough it would have fed, clothed, and housed the entire population of some third world, poverty stricken nation for a day. White, patten leather loafers without any socks between his bare flesh and the leather; soft cream colored silk pants that flared out like the bell bottoms of the late seventies; an unlaced silk shirt that was left open to just above his navel; it was a deep, rich blood red at its center that slowly faded through the shades before ending in a gentle rose tinted white along its hem, collar, and flaring cuffs that were several sizes too wide.

Several rings made of gold and platinum graced fingers on both hands. His Rolex was custom made, and the third one he's had to have made this year; the others had been destroyed during various assignments. A pair of thousand dollar sunglass hung from the smallest of the three necklaces that hung off his shoulders; the white gold contrasted sharply with his bronzed skin; the man loved to spend as much time in the sun as possible and always sported a healthy tan. It was simply one more thing Angel despised him for, because while Angel could see the sun; its rays had no affect on him.

With the clothes he wore, the air he affected; put Angel in mind of a British fop. He looked soft, weak, an easy mark. Looks were very, very deceiving when it came to William. There was a lot of the old Spike still there.

Too much as far as Angel was concerned.

Keeping the fact that William was alive from everyone had been rather easy; easier than he would have believed possible before hand. While there had been a few times that Angel had to scramble, he always managed to pulled everything off without a hitch, and there had only ever been one fatality because of it.

It was a shame too; Kennedy had shown so much promise, but there were more new slayers out there then even Willow and Giles could have possibly imagined when they agreed to Buffy's mad plan. Kennedy had never struck Angel as somebody who cared a great deal about Buffy, after all it was her decision to add Giles that led to Willow tossing her aside which eventually brought her to Angel; but she had. He found it ironic that William had been the one to kill her.

More slayers were being born every day and all the major players were scrambling to gobble up every single one that they could. The governments of the world had been quick to pounce on this new resource, and America boasted the largest number of slayers at their disposal: close to twenty thousand highly trained, efficient killing machines.

It wasn't just slayers though. Something that, until recently had been unheard of before was now common place; slayer babies. They were precious, highly sought after commodities; sons and daughters. Both were just as valuable since the spell that had contained the slayer essence to the female gene had ended along with the original. Now a child born of a slayer - or one of the dwindling number of potentials left - was born possessing all the power of a slayer.

"You wanted to see me boss?" Spike asked unconcerned with weather Angel had in fact wanted to see him or not. His accent that had always been thick had become lazy over the years and had taken on more southern California traits.

Angel decided then and there that William spent far too much time surfing. He was going to have to find more jobs to occupy him. This one would just be the beginning of it. He picked up the photo of Howlette and tossed it to William.

"Not really my type," William said giving the photo a quick once over. "I like my partners with a few more… curves, strategically placed of course. Less facial hair as well."

Angel's gaze never wavered as he stared William in the eye. "Are you about done?"

William shrugged, "hadn't really gotten started yet."

"James Howlette, goes by the name Logan now… A client wants him removed from the Seattle area," Angel said not allowing himself to be baited by William.

William looked the picture over again. "Just removed?"

"If you can bring him back here…" Angel left the statement hanging there for a moment. He knew he didn't have to finish it. William understood; if he couldn't be brought back than he would have to be killed. Angel would prefer the first, but the latter was acceptable.


"…make sure you stay close to Julian or Duncan," Buffy told Dawn as she made her way down the couple of stairs of the small, specially modified Cessna the three of them had crossed the country in. The slayer's eyes ranged out over the tarmac; scanning the area for any oddities. Julian was holding a subdued conversation with a handful of security personal. That definitely fell into the category of odd. "This place is…"

"Dangerous," Dawn finished melodramatically. "I get it Buffy. Both you and Julian having been driving that point home. Julian I can understand, I expected a little more from my own sister though. After all, I did survive growing up on The Hell Mouth."

Buffy snorted at the statement.

"Hey!" Dawn huffed. "I so did to…"

"Sure Dawn "its Tuesday so I have to find some kind of trouble that my sister can pull me out of saving my life once again" Summers," Buffy teased. Dawn could almost see the air quotes in Buffy's voice. "If it wasn't for your sister being the greatest slayer of all time you so would have been…"

"Gee, somebody doesn't have a big head," Dawn snapped cutting Buffy off. She really didn't want to know where her sister was going with that thought. Sometimes Buffy's tangents made no sense to anyone but Buffy; and even she could have a hard time understanding what she had just said. As if it had made sense one moment and not the next. "Besides if it wasn't for my sister being the greatest slayer of all time, I never would have been in Sunnydale in the first place. Glory would have killed off all the monks and used me to get back to her dimension leaving the universe one crazy place to live." She thought for a moment and then modified her statement, "crazier place to live in."

"Good to see somebody around here doesn't have an over inflated sense of their own entertainment value," Buffy joked good naturedly.

Dawn looked at her sister as they came to the end of the wing. She had always been envious of her older sister. Whenever she was in a good place emotionally Buffy didn't even have to try and she looked flawless; her skin was unblemished and always had the perfect amount of color, never to light but never to dark either. Even in the middle of a New York winter, she always had a perfect tan.

It didn't hurt Buffy that even when the temperatures plummeted to the freezing mark and below she could still prance around wearing her spring wardrobe if she wanted. She never did of course; appearances had to be maintained, but she could have.

It was more then that though. There had always been something about Buffy that made people take note of her. She was perfect and everybody knew it.

Dawn certainly had; it was why she had never played the popularity game with Buffy while they had been children. Instinctively she had known she couldn't compete with the older girl. Instead she had concentrated on the one thing she had Buffy didn't.

Good grades.

She studied to the exclusion of nearly everything else. While Buffy brought home mediocre report cards of mid level C's and a few low B's; Dawn wowed them by filling her report cards with nothing below an A. Okay, there was Phys Ed, a class she never achieved a higher grade then a B minus, but that was gym so it didn't really count in her mind.

Besides Buffy had been graced with all the physical genes.

The one exception was that she loved to dance; ballroom, ballet, tap, modern; it didn't matter to her so long as she was on a dance floor. It was the one physical activity she was better at then Buffy. She had been good to. So everyone had told her.

That had all ended with the divorce and the move to Sunnydale. It wasn't a town that really catered to after school activities such as dance academies and gymnasiums or dojos; at least not before the tragic death of Mayor Richard Wilkins the Third. After his death and despite the Hell Mouth, demons learnt that Sunnydale was a closed town and those that showed up there looking for trouble got more than they bargained for; a master vampire that wasn't about to put up with despots that dreamed of taking over his town, plus a slayer of some renown that said vampire was rather fond of.

While Dawn knew there were some other factors that kept the hard core demon element out of Sunnydale after Mayor Wilkins; Adam, Glory, and the First, she still liked to give all the credit to Spike and Buffy; and the rest of the Scooby Gang. After all, they defeated each and every threat that came their way.

"Yeah… good thing," Dawn agreed sounding very disingenuous.

Back in Sunnydale whenever a crisis of this magnitude would arise Buffy simply took everything onto her shoulders; she would fret and worry constantly, her eating habits - when she did eat - were atrocious. She would begin to lose weight; at times she would look down right skeletal. It never took all that long either; slayer metabolism and all that.

"What?" Buffy asked noting the speculative look in her sister's eyes.

Dawn shook her head slightly as she answered saying, "its nothing… Really."

Buffy's expression became more serious and she said, "Dawn, that look…" she gestured towards her face. "…is never a nothing look. Now spill before I have to pull out the big guns… Tickling you, right here in front of everyone, until you either tell me or…" She left the threat hanging in the air. The meaningful look in her eyes telling Dawn all she needed to know.

"You wouldn't?"

"Care to find out? I'm the slayer remember… merciless and relentless."

"Okay," Dawn relented without ever putting up any resistance. "Its just… back in Sunnydale, if something like this happened you'd be a basket case by now…"

"Wow, thanks for the…"

Dawn kept talking, speaking right over her sister. "I was just noticing how much you've grown up over the years. It was just a surprise… That's all."

Buffy frowned at the comment. Dawn's words came out in a rush and Buffy looked taken back a little. She had never known Dawn felt that way about her. It was a shock to her system; she didn't know how to react, if she should be angry, hurt, betrayed.

"All right ladies," Methos said hefting a pair of travel bags. Dawn grabbed her, exceedingly large bag. Methos thought she had tried to stuff everything they owned in their; including the kitchen and bathroom sink. Buffy's bag looked smaller in comparison then it actually was. The small blonde being used to traveling light. "Our carriage awaits."

"What about your plane?" Buffy asked curious to find out what had taken place.

Methos kept walking as he said, "Marcel and his people are taking care of it."

She kept her voice as sweet and innocent as possible as she asked, "you mean the security guards you were talking to?" It was perhaps just a little too sweet and innocent.

He glanced back, just a bare shifting of his eyes, as he continued to walk forward. Methos knew that tone of voice. He also knew Buffy wasn't as stupid as she often pretended. "That's right Buffy… the security guards I just paid a large sum of money to make sure that plane is prepped and ready to go the moment I make a phone call."

Buffy swallowed her next comment. "Thank you," she said simply.

"Don't thank me," Methos grumbled sourly. "I don't want to have to spend any more time in Seattle than I absolutely have to."