A/N: Eternally Night asked me 'who's Barty'. He is a wonderfully cynical demon called a djinn. Djinni get summoned and must remain loyal to the summoner or suffer some kind of punishment spell until they are dismissed. Barty's double thoughts/footnotes are in parentheses. As I tried to say/write in the summary, Barty really doesn't talk much about his past or the rules of his universe, which I am messing with. So people that have never read The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathon Stroud, worry not, this fict is yet to be altered significantly by him. It's a very good series, btw.
Disclaimer: I own not the characters of the excellent show of Joss'. Nor have I Bartimaeus and his peculiar forms.
I like crows almost as much as I like hawks (there was the one time in the desert, I scouted for the pharaoh…You don't really care. Oh well) This is an undercover job, however, and a hawk belonging in Egypt is more likely to be noticed than a simple black crow. I swooped down to land on a rooftop near some shops. I was looking for a twenty year old redheaded woman and this was probably the best place to start. (Young women means shopping, even a djinni as old as me knows that.) Now, a redhead…
There's one, so I fly down on my midnight feathers to check closer. Oh, a drag queen. Whoops. I suppose my master could have made a mistake if I could, but then again, he did have a daughter. He should know the difference by now (On the other hand, he doesn't know Bartimaeus, a most noble statement, from Barty which I don't have any nice words for at all.) I do want to know why the girl was there when I, BARTIMAEUS, was summoned. If there was a Bring-your-Child-to-Work Day for magickly adept, I might understand. It's just very rare to have a welcoming party, particularly one so young.
Returning to my post, I decided to scan the crowds until I could think of another area my prey could escape my sight. Without hesitation, my brilliant self finds a way. She's a witch, so she would gravitate towards the magic supplies. Time to find a directory.
I love this town (sarcasm); it has everything you need right under your nose (or beak). A handy big map screaming of 'Sunnydale Shopping Center and other Stores' and assorted pamphlets is off to my left, next to a diminutive shop selling explicitly pens. One leaflet falls open at my gentle shove, showing a description of everything you could want. I narrowed my search down to 'Magical Peace' with its blabbering of how one must follow the footsteps of the ancients and achieve this through communication in crystals only found there and 'The Magic Box' which was more broad and stated that it had 'general magical supplies for the practical wiccan'. A useful caption next to this pictured a young redheaded woman holding a book and grinning ridiculously. Coincidence? I think not.
A scrawny mutt with a pamphlet in his jaws was spotted padding down an alley that led directly to The Magic Box.
When I arrived at my destination, I was a little surprised at the lack of anti-shapeshifter demon defense. It was embarrassing to find something I could have broken into before I turned 200. Overconfident and careless, that's what I called it. It hurts my feelings to know my djinni brethren have been so slack on the job. With that thought, my slobbery leaflet flopped to the ground as a swirl of smoke whisked beneath the door.
My smoky self drifted across the floor and accidentally got an interesting view up a short black skirt. I scooted out from under there (cross species relationships don't work for me.) It obviously did, however, for vampire sitting by the table; he was looking at her as if she had saved the world. I went through a quick check of seven planes of sight I had access to. On the second (where auras are visible, easily reached by some spells) this motley assortment of humans took on a different look. One was a traitorous ex-vengeance demon with her arms around a human looking as dull as dirt. I'm talking really normal, brown, average Ph soil here. The demon was young however; she must have made a few bad decisions. Yet another blonde had a moderate amount of magick in her, a teen next to her that looked like a bouncing ball of energy turned out to be quite literal. This took me all of two seconds.
The woman who I had started out under was talking. "…still searching for power switcheroo spells that actually work. Tara, are you coming, or will the research party here only lose me?" The witch nodded and picked up her bag, which had papers overflowing it. She didn't think to ask the smoke. I would follow her anyway, if there was another witch here, she didn't have an aura to show it.
These people need to drag themselves into the twenty-first century and get a car. Walking takes far too long, especially at a human rate.
It paid off. We reached our destination, the short non-witch blonde's home, where I had to wait for a few hours until my target human arrived. It was late at night by then and I can tell you, masters get crankier as the night wears on. So I stayed, because I am not willing to risk an angry master with an arsenal of painful spells. That house is an education in nighttime activities. I never knew bubble wrap could go there (don't look at me like that, I heard the popping, alright?).
Dawn was heralded by a highly disturbed sparrow flying as fast as it's wings would take it towards it's master's home armed with the knowledge of a witch named Willow.
X(next night)X
It just had to be mass slayage that night. The bother that was Spike had worn Buffy out and the peace that it brought her had disappeared. She was back to angry now and she let her enemies know that very loudly. They were starting to feel rather victimized. Buffy couldn't even talk to Willow about anything, she was searching everywhere for the little girl. The woman wiped some drops of sweat off her forehead after dusting a final vamp.
Pleased with her stress relief, she turned to leave the messy alleyway in which she had found her now permanently departed vampire gang. While walking, Buffy heard somebody talking just outside her alley. All she could tell was that the voices sounded human and male.
"I don't like it."
"You don't have to."
"But it's mine. I should have some say."
"Who summoned who? Bartimaeus, it's too long. Why are you talking about this anyway, it's not changing. Oh, you're picking Elita up tomorrow, ok? I have to do another show too late to pick her up from school."
"How am I going to do that, exactly? My driver's license expired." That demon, because he must be if he was summoned, was smothered in sarcasm.
"Ever heard of a bus?"
"That's allowed in school, somebody they've never seen before, picking up a student?"
"I just got a new servant."
Summoned equaled demon equaled bad. Buffy knew that better than she knew her own name. What were they talking about anyway? Something was taking too long, probably a spell or rite. She could fight that, especially if that really was a demon talking. Buffy waited for them to pass the entrance to the lane, while hiding in the shadows. Demon and master were still conversing as they crossed in front of her.
"Keep her safe. That's an official charge. No talking to strangers and no buying… stuff."
"You don't trust me."
"That's true. You're soulless and untrustworthy."
They vanished into the highly clichéd night. Buffy needed one more thing, though. She jogged to catch up to and follow them. This man matched perfectly with Willow's description of the magic-stealer. Elita was probably that poor girl without her power. Buffy did not intend to find out what he needed it for.
They were headed towards the nicer part of town and eventually went inside a decent looking house. School ended at three thirty, if she remembered from her and Dawn's schooldays correctly. Good, she could have a stake out party in the afternoon. That would make a change.
X(next day)X
Alistair was driving along towards his client, a family whose youngest was having a birthday party. He was zoning out, thinking about Elita's birthday presents. He was jolted awake when a red convertible swerved and drove him off the road. Shaking, Alistair stopped in the shoulder and took some deep breaths. The other car pulled up next to him and a middle aged man got out. Alistair followed his lead. Then something large and heavy knocked him clean out. He drifted into sub consciousness hearing a British accent. "I never thought to teach you to swing a baseball bat. Good shot, Buffy."
Throughout the evening, Alistair saw brief visions of the witch he was beginning to think of as Willow, the British man and the sensation of being carried. The last one he remembered most clearly because Elita was in it. He saw her taken home by Bartimaeus, and waiting, waiting, waiting at home. When he awoke, Alistair saw a cement wall and manacles. He was chained to a wall, while Elita was home and worried. Pulling at his chains, the magician screamed as loud as his lungs would let him, "Elita!!!!!!!!"
A/N: My notes are too long. Just be grateful for the lack of speeches this chapter. I really don't have anything against Xander, I just don't think Barty would like him much.
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