WRATH OF THE EAGLE
Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
╟℣╢
Los Angeles International Airport:
Anne Sumner watched from the far end of the hall, wondering how this had happened. Doyle had gotten a vision not an hour ago about a man in LAX. The vision hadn't told much, except that she was needed there. What she had found was beyond her beliefs. Once she had seen that her father was going to be in LA for business reasons, the temptation to see him again had been too much to bear. So, that was why she was there, in LAX, less than three hundred yards away from her biological father, and she desperately wanted to speak with him, if only to check and see how her mother was doing. She wanted to run up and hug him but, she still wasn't sure what she would do afterward. The decision was made for her, however, as her father suddenly turned his head towards her.
╟℣╢
Hank Summers walked off the plane from Tokyo, grateful to finally be back in his own country. However, he was a troubled man. Not too long ago, his daughter had disappeared off the face of the earth. He had spent hundreds of thousands in PIs to find her but, no one could find her. She had just vanished. Then, not two months ago, she had reappeared again, on the doorsteps of her mother's house, nonetheless. He had been ecstatic and had boarded a plane the second he heard. He would have made it back to the airport and caught a ride to her house by the next evening but, she had taken off…again. Now, she was in God knows where, doing God knows what…or who. He had talked regularly with Joyce, tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault but, no matter what he said, it didn't matter anymore. She had lost the will to live…literally. He had honestly picked up the phone one time and meant to have her sent to a center but, his conscience simply would not allow it. Aside from that, Joyce had moved away from Sunnydale, away from all the pain, and had literally given up on all hope for her daughter. Losing her twice was just too much for her to take. He had offered to have the PIs on the job again but, she had declined, believing that it was simply a waste of time. It was times like these when he really wished he hadn't have divorced her. She really needed him and he had set up his life away from her. It was enough to make him sell his company…but, he was getting married again, soon. He couldn't do that to his fiancée.
He pulled out his cell phone, intending on making a business call to his partner in San Diego, his next port of call after his business in LA was finished, when he felt eyes on him. He turned his head slightly and dropped his cell phone. There, standing a little over two hundred yards away, was his daughter. In spite of how much she had changed, she was still his little girl. She had cut her hair down quite a bit (A/N: think S6, her makeshift haircut) and had dyed it red (A/N: Scooby-Doo). She had dressed herself up in a pair of tight looking black leather pants and an equally tight black sleeveless shirt. It was all covered up with a black leather jacket that came up about four inches above her knees. She had gotten contacts, apparently, for her formerly green eyes had changed to a strange blue, almost neon blue. She was staring at him, her mouth open in shock. He could relate. Without any concern for his phone, he swiftly made his way across the floor and over to his daughter, who refused to meet his eyes. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and touched her shoulder.
"Buffy," he beseeched her, "Honey, is that you?"
In one move, her gaze was upon his, and he knew, beyond any doubt, that it was her. Without pause or thought, he wrapped his daughter up in a hug.
╟℣╢
Hank followed his daughter into her office, amazed at her brief explanation of things. From her story, she seemed to have gone through a miniature Hell of sorts. Having lost her lover, then having to kill him to save lives. None of it made any sense until she had started in on the supernatural. Now, there was something that he hadn't heard about in a long time. It was part of why he had gotten the divorce. He had hoped that, when combined with the mental institution, the loss of her friends, and her expulsion from school, she would give up being a Slayer. He had believed her, mainly because he knew. He had met a vampire when he was seventeen, and had only gotten away because he hid in his mother's house. After that, his ever curious mind had forced him to explore the occult. He had found absolutely everything he could…and that had been a lot. Now, to find out that his daughter had still been fighting evil…it was a shock.
"Honey," he was going to ask the question that he hated the most, "…Why aren't you in Sunnydale, with your friends?"
His question had the effect he thought it would. Immediately, her gaze became one of hurt and fear. She was afraid of them…or what they would do.
"…Dad," she muttered solemnly, "Dad, I left the first time because I couldn't deal with losing Angel. I didn't think my friends would understand and, on a level, they wouldn't…couldn't, but…they would have tried, if nothing else for me. Then, I come home, and I get upset because it's hard to deal. They told me lies, basically, about how well they had done against the vamps, just to give me some help, let them know they had my back while I got better. I believed them…and that just provided me with an excuse to leave. It was too hard to deal…but, it wasn't. I'm surprised it wasn't harder, to be honest. At least they made an effort. I tried, too, but…all I had to do was show up and wait to be told what to do. I couldn't even do that right."
"…You blame yourself," he questioned.
"…A lot," she answered honestly, "And, so do my friends, I know. But, I know it's not my fault entirely. We all could have done better, but…me, most of all."
"What're you doing in LA," he asked.
"Running a detective agency," she answered with a grin, "The main thing I did back in Sunnydale was just save people. Now, I'm helping people, helping their souls. Helping them get better, and with each person I help, the closer I am to gaining redemption for allowing Angelus to run free."
Angelus, he wondered to himself, Angel? One in the same…what, did he have his soul or something?
He pushed the question aside, for the moment, and focused on his daughter.
"Why," he asked her, "Why do you have to gain redemption for that?"
"I was the Slayer," she responded, "It was my duty to save lives, not let one vampire live above the rest. And allow innocent people to die. My punishment was the revoking of my Slayer status. I was demoted…to Champion. I still have above human strength and agility but, nowhere near where I was. I have a visionary, to tell me where to go. And a sister, to help me fight. We fight the darkness together, and we save lives, make them worth living…if we can."
Hank pondered her words. She was trying to make up for her mistakes and earn a living at the same time. It was…excellent, in a way. But, she would have a hard life as a private investigator. He knew. He also knew one very important thing that might help her.
"Buffy," he began but, she held up her hand.
"Dad, before you ask…you can tell Mom," he nodded eagerly, "From what you told me, it sounds like she's taking this really hard. But, make her promise to not tell my friends. They don't want to see me again, and if they do, I don't have any doubts that they would try to kill me…and, if not, the Eagle would."
"'Eagle,'" he questioned, "Who's that?"
"The new guy running the show down in Sunnydale," his daughter answered, "The odds are that he's working with the gang and they've told him everything. From what I've heard, he's one bad guy, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of one of his guns."
"…Alright," he agreed, "But, you have to do me two favors, one of which I think you'll love."
"Oh, boy," she muttered.
"If you're going to be a PI, then I want for you to get an actual PI on your team. I have one that owes me a favor so, I'm going to call in that favor. He'll stop by sometime next week, if I can get him to. Secondly, in exchange for you doing this, I will buy you an actual office. We're square. Deal?"
"…Deal."
╟℣╢
Anne looked through a paper filled with spaces for sale. She had had Lily use her skills to find out what buildings were up for sale and had found around a hundred locations that would be best for them. Hank, her father, had informed her that money was no boundary whatsoever. Whatever she wanted, she could have. She flipped another page, the page dedicated to the Hyperion Hotel. There were a few photos, spanning throughout the twentieth century, but…one photo, in particular, caught her attention. There, in the background, was her lover…Angel.
She whispered his name.
╟℣╢
Sunnydale, California…The Hellmouth:
Anne Sumner, or Buffy Summers, as she had once been called, silently stalked underneath the Bronze, where Angel had once lived. She had come to town for one night only, one night to get the essentials for her new organization. She had rented a Uhaul with her father's loan and was taking all of Angel's stuff from his two homes. The odds were that the mansion had already been cleared out but, she had to give it a try.
As she loaded in the last of Angel's books, she sighed. Everything here reminded her of him, reminded her of all the pain that had been caused…all in that bed. She sighed and carried her box outside.
╟℣╢
Sunnydale High School Library:
Last year, Willow had begun a database, typing each book into a CD Rom and copying them several times. She had hidden them underneath the copier inside Giles's office and, fortunately, the gang was gone. Probably out on patrol. It wasn't right, she thought, she should be out there…with them but, she had taken that chance away from herself. She had to pay the consequences. She would gain redemption from the Powers That Be first, then…she might come back. If she did, she intended on doing what she could to prove to them that she had changed. She knew that stealing their information was not the best way to but, she had a job to do. Besides, she'd send them back once she had her own copies. She sighed and lifted up the copying machine easily, even with her Champion level strength, she was still strong. She set it off to the side a little bit, and looked down. There, in place of the small space that had been filled with six CDs, there was a note.
"Giles," she read, "Am borrowing these to copy them to my computer. Willow."
╟℣╢
Anne sat down on the couch inside Angelus's old mansion. She had taken every book and item that she thought was useful out of the place, leaving only the first aid supplies that had been there. The place was going unused, thankfully, so it was very unlikely that anyone would be around. Thus explaining why she had taken a moment's worth of rest. Being back in Sunnydale…brought a lot of memories to the fore, memories that she wasn't sure she wanted. She still loved her friends deeply but, every time she thought about them, about Willow's smile, or Xander's jokes, or Oz's…Ozziness, or Giles's bookworminess, or, God help her, even Cordy's airheadedness, she wanted to laugh…and cry. It was painful, but joyful, all at once. She didn't understand it and, what was worse, she didn't know how to understand it. She was tempted to stick around town and systematically stalk her friends, to see how they were doing. But, she knew that doing that would be like throwing a dagger into her still-bleeding wound. She couldn't do that.
She looked up as her sensitive hearing picked up a noise. Voices…familiar voices. The Scooby Gang…were coming her way. Without any thought, she leapt up and ran out the door, evading their notice.
╟℣╢
The City of Angels:
"I gotta admit, Princess," Doyle said as he came down the stairs, "You've done pretty well for yourself. Only the top floor's in any danger of coming down but, that shouldn't remain that way for long. Mind tellin' me why you got it?"
Anne looked up at him, her face unreadable. Finally, she answered.
"Angel stayed here."
"Um," both looked up as they heard Lily's voice echo down the stairs, "There's an old lady up here."
Doyle quickly ran up the stairs after their friend, while Anne remained behind. There was something wrong here, she knew it. She just…didn't know what. She was about to run up the stairs when she heard…laughter?
"Show yourself," she called out.
No one answered. The former Slayer was beginning to get paranoid, and she didn't like that feeling. She sighed and decided to stop and think, instead of just rushing into a situation, like usual. Angel had stayed here…and Angel had kept a journal. She turned around and went to where she kept Angel's books and opened up one that had been marked with dates from the fifties. She skimmed over the first few pages until she came to one that had been marked down as from the Hyperion. She read the passage quickly and came to the conclussion that they were dealing with a Thesulac demon…mainly because it had been written down as one. Angel had also gone out of his way to write down how to defeat it. If he had known, then why hadn't he tried to get rid of it? The entry stopped just before he moved out. He had visited a man…Denver.
╟℣╢
Denver looked up as he heard someone come into his shop. Before him was a beautiful girl with red hair and blue eyes, dressed in an all-black outfit with a leather jacket thrown over it.
"You Denver," she asked casually.
"Ugh, yes," he was slightly unnerved by the young woman before him, "What can I do for you, Miss…"
"Sumner," she answered formally, "Anne Sumner. I need your help."
"Really," he brightened up at the prospect of helping someone, that had been his way, of sorts, ever since that vampire had come looking for a way to help people, "With what?"
She held up an old photograph and pointed towards the highest point on it, the background.
"Do you recognize him?"
"…I don't believe it," he took hold of the picture and stared at it in shock, "It's him. It's…"
"Angel," he looked upon the young woman in awe, "He was a vampire with a soul, destined to help save lives."
"Angel," he muttered as his memory raced to make some…connection…"Angelus," she nodded her head in agreement, "Wow. What happened to him?"
"…He and I were…" she trailed off at that, but he got the message, "He lost his soul," he gasped in shock, "Killed a bunch of people…I sent him to Hell. Now, I'm carrying on. Taking his place."
Denver nodded in understanding. This girl, something about her just screamed power. He wondered…
"Are you the Slayer," he asked her.
"Was," she answered, "I'm just a Champion now. I lost my Slayerness because I let Angelus live. I was in love…I couldn't see the difference between the two. Angel was a good man…Angelus wasn't. I should have staked him to end Angel's pain through it."
Denver nodded in understanding. Love clouded the judgment and made things difficult to understand…to decide. If it'd been him, he wouldn't have fallen in love, period. But, things weren't so black and white. There was always the gray area and, while this girl did do wrongly, she had accepted the consequences of her actions and was trying to atone for them. That, at least, earned her a small degree of respect. Aside from that, she was trying to save lives. That simply sealed the deal.
"What do you need?"
╟℣╢
Lily and Doyle sprinkled some powder all over the floor, as the ritual said, while Denver held the orb out and Anne grabbed her favorite broadsword, ready for the demon to come forth.
"We call thee forth, Thesulac of the netherworld, we command you, leave our minds and join us on this, the physical plane," Denver held the orb out even more as he recited the spell, "We invoke the by the power of the orb of the priests of Ramjerin. What was once in our thoughts, be now in our midst."
The air above the stairs began to shiver and bulge out, as though something were trying to escape from an invisible grasp. A scream pierced the room, causing all inside to take a step backwards. Finally, as the scream began to die down, the demon became true in form. He yawned slightly and looked over to them, his mouth twisting into a demented smile.
"Take-out," he muttered.
"Watch its tentacles," Anne shouted out, "Denver, you and Lily attack with the crossbows, Doyle and I'll take point."
"We will," Doyle asked, somewhat fearful of the demon but, more fearful of the look the former Slayer was giving him, "We will."
He reverted to his demonic form and charged forward, with Anne right by his side. Denver and Lily went to opposite sides of the room and fired their crossbows whenever they had a clear shot, which was almost never, so they had plenty of time to reload. Doyle and Anne, while putting up a good fight, could not get past its tentacles. Doyle charged forward as fast as he could, intending on barreling past the tentacles, only to feel a great force strike his legs, then throw him into the nearby wall.
"DOYLE," Lily shouted and she dropped her weapon to go check on her friend as Denver fired a bolt at the demon's arm, but he just swiped it across the room with his tentacle.
Anne felt another pair of tentacles throw her into the wall and slid down to the floor. Before getting up, however, she paused as she looked around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. The first thing that she noticed was an exposed fuse box. Without hesitation, she leapt up and grabbed the first tentacle she could, even as Denver shot another one, pinning it to the wall. She leapt up and shoved the tentacle against the exposed wires.
"The kitchen's closed," she muttered in triumph.
No one moved…and the demon didn't fry.
"Ugh, Princess," she turned her attention to Doyle, "I…didn't finish hooking up the juice."
"…Oh."
Before any could react, an explosion echoed throughout the room. It was followed by a gigantic hole being blown into the demon's skull. It opened its mouth in confusion, then simply collapsed to the floor and disappeared in a glare of white light. All eyes turned away from the light before the demon even finished disappearing. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of kaki pants, a white shirt, and a black leather jacket with a pair of flame sunglasses on, was a dark haired man that seemed very familiar to one figure in the room.
"…Pike."
╟℣╢
"So, how do you know our gallant hero, Princess?"
Anne turned to her friend and smiled slight at the way he had worded the question.
"Bad as this may sound, I used to date him," she responded with a grin, "He was my first partner in crime."
"So," Denver came up behind her as he said this, "What do we do now?"
"You wanna help," Lily asked the old man.
"Well, I'm not a young buck anymore, but," he paused as he thought of how to say this, "When I met Angel, I knew that helping people was the right thing to do…and I plan to do the right thing. I'll help you in any way I can, no matter what it is."
Anne thought before answering and, when she did, she turned to Lily, "Would you like to learn the occult?"
Her response was interesting, "Sure! I'd love to!"
"Denver," she turned back to the older man with a smile, "Would you mind taking on an employee?"
He smiled, "I think that could be arranged. You come in three or four times a week, I teach you some of the stuff I know, and you call me whenever there's a problem."
"I like it," Doyle put his two cents in, "Seems like a good idea. Also, Princess, I think it'd be a good idea to have your," he pointed to the room that Pike was in as he said this, "Friend teach me and Lily how to shoot. Maybe even yourself. I mean, I'm alright but, he's obviously better."
Anne thought about it for a second. She didn't like guns, it seemed so…impersonal, in her eyes. It felt like, the few times she had fired a gun (Mom had taken her to target practice for a client and she had shot expertly) all her power had been taken away. But, she was trying to learn how to survive without being on top all the time. She wasn't in charge here, not really, it was a democracy. Doyle put forth an idea, which was obviously supported by both Denver and Lily, and they were expecting her to agree. Well, she did, but, she wanted to make it clear what their group was.
"You want to," she held up her hands, "That's no problem, just have to ask him. You can do whatever you want, all of you, you just have to let us know whenever you're having a problem. You can live with whoever you want, sleep with whoever you want, you can train any way you want, just let us know whenever you have a problem. We're here for each other, all the time."
╟℣╢
Anne sat down at the desk where Pike was sat. Her old friend was drinking from a bottle of scotch, his pistol in his side holster. The second she sat down, he lifted his bottle away from his face and set it down to the tabletop.
"…Hey, Buffy," he greeted her, "Or Anne. Which is it?"
"…Call me Anne," she stated.
"Your dad told me about what happened," he shook his head in disbelief, "Gotta admit, I couldn't see Buffy Summers, my Buffy Summers, shunning her friends over an undead bastard, even if he did have a soul."
"I wasn't thinking right," she responded, "I had some good points but, in the end, all that mattered was the fact that they were willing to try. And I took that chance away from them."
"You ever thought of going back," he asked, "Making things right?"
"A few times," she answered honestly, "But, whenever I do, I just wonder what they'd do…or think. It was bad enough when I came home the first time. I can't even imagine this time. So, how's your life been?"
"Alright," he answered with a grin, "I went to PI school after Hemery, got my license and my badge. Your dad helped me get on my feet, even though he never did like me. I owe him, and that's why I'm here, plus the joy of a friendship renewed."
He leaned forward a little and looked directly in her eyes, "Buffy, I know that your friends will forgive you. If anything else, to stop the waterworks."
She slapped him playfully across the shoulder.
"Ow," or, what she thought had been playfully, "But, seriously, you made a mistake. Everyone does. The point is that you move on, learn from them, and accept the consequences. You try to better yourself from your mistakes, not repeat them. You do that, and I really think that the Scoobies will take you back."
He abruptly stood up and left, muttering about needing a place to sleep. Anne remained where she was, thinking about what to do next.
╟℣╢
Sunnydale, California…The Hellmouth:
Warren Meers smiled over at his creation. April was perfection, absolute. He had begun work on her in Junior year, when he had been shot down again, this time for the Homecoming Dance. Finally, she was finished, and he couldn't be happier with the results. He had downloaded every single thing he could into her AI brain (most importantly, every sexual position known to mankind) and the results were pretty spectacular. His parents were out, thus explaining why she was out and they were naked on the bed after several hours of passionate lovemaking.
"You're the best lover ever, Warren," April told him as she rubbed up against him.
"What else am I good at," he was enjoying this.
Before she could continue to smother him with praise, however, the ringing of the front door echoed throughout the house. He groaned aloud and stood up and began to get dressed.
"Warren," April complained, "Come back to bed."
"It's probably Dad, locked out again," the man was an idiot when compared to Warren, thus making the young man wonder if he had been adopted. He walked out of his bedroom, completely dressed, and sprayed a little bit of freshener around to cover up the smell. He opened the door, revealing a man in a business suit with dark hair and a seemingly all-too-innocent smile.
"Warren Meers," the man asked immediately.
"…Yes," he answered cautiously, wondering what this man wanted.
"My name's Lee Mercer," he held out his hand and Warren gingerly shook it, "I represent the law offices of Wolfram and Hart. My law firm is very interested in purchasing the rights to your…invention," the lawyer's gaze turned away from him, and Warren followed, and was surprised to see April come into the open area, bare naked.
"Hmm," Warren stepped in front of her to keep her from being ogled by the lawyer, but he just grabbed the nerd's shoulder and pulled him away, "Yes," the man began to circle his creation, examining every nook and cranny of her, "I assume you used anatomy books to create her?"
The nerd stared at the man, amazed at his audacity…but, then again, he was a lawyer. Why the Hell shouldn't he be audacious?
"Warren," April sounded confused, "Why is this man looking at me? I'm for your eyes only. Should I take care of him?"
"I'll let you know," he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her towards the hallway, "Go get dressed and stay in my room."
April complied, like always, and went away. He sighed and turned around to the strange lawyer, who had taken a seat and was getting out some paperwork.
"Mr. Meers, have a seat," Warren obeyed, but only in the hopes of finding out what this man wanted, "My law firm represents many top businesses, two of which deal in the area that your creation is expertly suited for. Wolfram and Hart has been watching you for some time and, when we learned of your invention, I was sent right out to write out a patent for you. This intitles you to all profits of the mass production of these robots."
Profits? He smiled.
"What industries," he asked with a grin.
"An adult entertainment division and a chain of strip clubs that would see a great amount of profit if they could eliminate the staff and hire robots that would be willing to do anything…for the right price. With your designs, and what our cosmetologists could do, this could allow millions of dollars, even billions of dollars to flow through, to you and us. All we need you to do is sign this patent and you get profits for every robot sold."
"…What would be the main asking price," he wondered aloud.
"Oh, at least five hundred thousand," Warren perked up at that, "And, if we add on the cost of changing the appearance, enhanced strength, downloading capability, Internet, even other supernatural abilities that our law firm could provide for them…by the end of it, you would probably get a quarter of a billion for each one while we'd get about half a billion. What do you say?"
Warren nodded his head vigurously.
╟℣╢
A/N 4 Jason: Glad to see you're willing to accept changes, at least the ones that I'm making. The reason why there are the extraordinary is because the ordinary do need help, they're the calvary. Point on the radiation, but, I doubt anything short of the First would survive, mainly because most demons can be killed by conventional means (beheading, for one). I'm not a romantic, I'm a realist. Sorry, that's just the way I am. Outrunning a giant snake is miniscule for a Slayer, since you keep on talking about how the extraordinary are the ones that make the difference. No arguing on the adjoining spell, but, as I said then, she was only a key factor, not the key factor. As for Hell, yes, I do wish her Hell, mainly because of what she did to the potentials. It was the systematic rape of hundreds or thousands of girls. I have a problem with that, thank you kindly. And, as I've said before, I don't have much of a problem with her in S1, only a few things that could be justified easily. So, yes, you make a point on canon but, it doesn't matter to me. I only hate Buffy after S1, when ME starts going all the more with theromantic and crap. Besides, did you completely miss the point I made about saving her from herself?
TD: Thanks.
BTW: Faith will not be going to Sunnydale for some time yet. She's with Lozen…sorry, guess I didn't make that connection very well. Faith was instantly attracted to Lozen as a parental figure and, in between the choice of someone who is offering you a free place to stay verses going off to find a bunch of people you've only heard of, I thought the choice would be easy.
Sorry.