Part Thirty-six
1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. March 3, 2001
The Knight of Byzantium known as Claudius leaned against the wall, a baseball cap hiding the insignia of his order tattooed onto his forehead.
He was the youngest of the Knights in Sunnydale, and perhaps because of that he was the one having the most luck blending in. Thus his superiors had assigned him to the surveillance duty over the Slayer who clearly knew something about the Key.
Personally, he wasn't happy with the assignment. Claudius wanted to be out fighting the demons and vampire citizens of the Hellmouth, like the rest of his brothers; who were, in effect, covering for Buffy Summers during this her time of troubles. However, he understood the importance of his assignment. So the man did not complain, and did as he was ordered.
His assignment had actually gotten easier, during the past few days. His target was spending almost all of her time in this local hospital.
Claudius had done a little investigating, and discovered the mother of the Slayer was a patient here. He had reported this, and suggested that now might be the best time to attack her - to force some answers out from the daughter.
He'd been a little surprised when General Gregor himself had overruled the idea with the terse statement, "We are the Knights of Byzantium. There is no honor in that path!"
So Claudius just continued doing his duty at the hospital, looking and praying for some sort of lead to come his way.
Elmhurst Cemetery, Sunnydale, California. Later that night
Long after sunset, Buffy Summers stood a lonely vigil at the grave of Kevin Berman.
She remembered how the funeral itself had been a nightmare. Dawn hadn't been able to attend, as she and Joyce had still been confined to a hospital bed at the time; so she alone had been witness to the grief of Kevin's parents and friends, as the young man had been laid to rest here on holy ground.
As she stood there, the young woman felt a cold hand slip into hers. Buffy didn't turn around to see who it was, though - as she didn't need to.
Because the blonde had sensed him coming, a mile away. In the old days, she'd always been hyper-alert to his presence; and now, even two years apart had not been enough to dull his signal on her Summers guy radar.
Angel.
"I came as soon as I heard," the ensouled vampire said, as they both stared at the freshly disturbed soil. "Cordelia called Willow to gossip about her new boyfriend, and, well..."
"Angel," the Slayer said in a distracted tone.
"Buffy. How are you holding up?" he asked.
"The funeral was pretty brutal."
The Champion wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, but he could offer an educated guess. "I dropped by the hospital to see Dawn and Joyce. Your mom told me she thought you'd be here."
"What else did she say?" Ms. Summers said suspiciously, as she finally turned to look at her ex-lover.
Angel shrugged. "That you were blaming yourself for all this, instead of that drunk driver."
Buffy flushed for a moment, rattled by the matter-of-fact tone of voice. "I was the one driving the car, Angel! So what if that asshole was so drunk he didn't know what he was doing? Slayer reflexes, remember? I was the one responsible for getting us all home safe, and I nearly got my mom and my little sister killed! And I *did* get Kevin dead! I-"
Angel shut her up by hugging her tight, and Buffy instantly melted into his arms. A short while later he remarked, "I'm sorry, I..."
"It's okay," Buffy said as she pulled away. "I know, it's a bad idea. But obviously, I'm seriously needy of a boyfriend right now. And of all the guys I've ever dated..."
Angel didn't have the heart to tell her about the new situation concerning him and Darla. Not here, and not now. "It sucks, I know. But still having feelings isn't a crime. By the way, I've already read the official police report on the accident; bottom line is, you couldn't have done anything different. So please...for me. Try not to blame yourself?"
Ms. Summers sighed, as Angel took hold of her hand again. "If it was just me, you know, I'd be all right. But with everything regarding Mom and Dawn to consider as well-"
"Look, it's okay. I know you don't feel like it right now, but you're a strong woman, Buffy. That's why I know you're gonna get through this...situation. Sweetheart, you have lots of people here to help you - so you don't have to go through it alone, and you shouldn't..." He paused. "I, uh, I've got things going on in LA, but...I can stay for as long as you want me to..."
"How's forever? Does forever work for you?" Buffy asked with a crooked smile, as Angel's lips involuntarily curved upwards as well.
She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, before stepping back. "But seriously, thank you for coming Angel. I'm really grateful that you did, I - I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to make it through the night, after what happened today..."
"You would have done that, with or without me," Angel replied with a slight smile. "You're a lot stronger than you know."
They talked for what seemed like hours, before the Champion for the Powers finally told his ex farewell. Angel hurried knowing he was cutting it close as sunrise was dangerously close. As Angel left Buffy crossed her arms and looked down at the newly dug grave.
Georgetown, Washington D.C. March 4, 2001
Esther Marcum paused at the half-open door, listening to the cursing and muttering going on inside. Smiling to herself, she knocked on the door. "This a bad time?"
Cleburne looked up from his cluttered desk. "No, just got back from meeting with my accountants; I'm having to buy new equipment for the building in Richmond. The gym needs a replacement outfitting..."
Esther sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "What do you mean? I thought you put new equipment in at the beginning of the year?"
Cleburne sighed in exasperation. "I did, top of the line stuff too. Cost a pretty penny, but I figured why not? I thought it would take years before the wear and tear caused me to have to replace it. However, barely 60 days later - and practically all the equipment needs replacing!"
"Why?" Esther asked.
"The kid," Cleburne replied. "He's been working out like crazy. Every time something happens that he doesn't like, he goes straight to the gym. When that drunk driver hit Mrs. Summers, I lost four punching bags in one weekend! Add into that Wolfie also working out there, particularly when he's in animal form, and Ms. Weitz occasionally working out too? The gym equipment's falling apart..."
Cleburne pointed a finger at Marcum. "I'm telling you right now, I'm putting all this into an expense voucher for reimbursement! When I agreed to house the kid and his merry little band of cohorts, I didn't think it would be this much heartache!"
Esther shrugged. "Well, you did agree that keeping them in one of your buildings would make it easier to keep an eye on them."
"Yeah, but have you seen my insurance premiums recently? With all the security modifications we've made, you think they would go down, but nooooo. I swear these buildings were supposed to be investments, not money pits!"
Esther suppressed a chuckle. She had always suspected that Cleburne had seen an opportunity for his desire for monetary enrichment, and his stronger desire for security to be combined into one neat package. It gave him a chance to ensure Xander Harris's safety, and also contribute to the Cleburne retirement fund. Clearly, the plan was encountering some hitches.
"Well, the sacrifices one makes for one's country will no doubt earn you brownie points somewhere," she said. "By the way, I didn't know you were going to be in your office today. I thought you were headed to Europe?"
Cleburne shook his head. "Heading out in the morning, I figured I would spend today meeting with the bean counters. Get all that stuff out of the way, before I go hunting for our friends the monks."
"You think they'll know what's going on with Mr. Harris?" Esther refused to use Cleburne's nickname for Xander.
"They're the best bet, you have to admit. They gave Dawn Summers human form; so I can't think of anyone better suited to tell us why the kid has some kinda mystic link to her, in times of emergency. I'll jet over, have a talk with the men in brown, figure out the solution to the problem and then jet right back."
Cleburne closed the folder with his financial papers in it. "Then I get to oversee the work on the gym. Sure you don't want to change jobs? I'll be happy to talk to Ashcroft-"
Esther thought for a second. "Tempting. It really is, but I think I'll stick to visiting with the Attorney General to do the meet and greet. No jetlag to worry about."
"Well, I suppose I should be thankful for that. Somehow, I think trying to explain the existence of demons to a Pentecostal Attorney General is going to have some unique challenges!" Cleburne chuckled softly to himself. "I suspect your main problem won't be getting that guy to realize that demons are real; but preventing him from wanting to burn them all at the stake..."
Vatican City, Rome, Italy. March 5, 2001
"Sir, he's ready to see you now. Please, follow me," the assistant said.
Roger Wyndham-Pryce got up and followed the young priest from the ornate waiting room. He was led through several impressive corridors. Wyndham-Pryce couldn't help but notice that every so often, he and his escort would encounter some of the Swiss guards that guarded the Vatican.
{Well, I suppose that's understandable. Travers' actions *has* led to quite a bit of distrust of us. They're wary, but then I would be also if I were in their position.}
Finally, they came to their destination. "Right through there." The young priest held the door for the Senior Watcher. Thanking him, Wyndham-Pryce entered the office.
"Mr. Pryce, hello. It's good to see you," Monsignor Bentallo came forward to greet his visitor.
"Monsignor. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Roger replied, shaking the Catholic priest's hand.
"It is my pleasure. It is always good to meet with one of God's children, who knows the truth of things in this world." Bentallo motioned for Wyndham-Pryce to take one of the chairs in the office. He did so, while Randall himself sat down in the chair opposite from him.
"First of all, Monsignor, I want you and the Church to know how much the Council regrets that such a...a rift has developed between our two organizations. Events were allowed to...ah, spiral out of control, so to speak."
Bentallo thought about Pryce's words for a second. "I agree that events had come to the point where relations between us...hit an all-time low. In light of the change in leadership of the Council though, my superiors and I are hopeful that an improvement of relations can take place."
Pryce smiled at that, as it was the best he could hope for at the moment. "Excellent, I also am hopeful for a restoration of our relations to where they once were. The need for a common cause has never been greater."
Bentallo nodded at that. "Yes, there are many signs of dark times to come, prophecies and portents, all pointing to the coming of a great evil. Both of the mystical and mundane variety."
"We've seen that also, I'm afraid. The reports from our operatives around the world are replete with such indications. We've gotten rather worried..." Pryce hesitated a second, before continuing. "In times such as these, it seems to me that all those who seek to hold back the coming darkness - should band together."
Bentallo raised an eyebrow at that. "*All* those?"
"Yes, Monsignor. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the fact is that my predecessor was too quick to dismiss cooperation with...certain parties."
"By which you mean the Americans?" Bentallo asked in a neutral tone.
"Yes, the Americans. In particular, an agency that is not exactly well-known to the public," Pryce answered, with a bitter taste in his mouth. "There was concern that they did not have the expertise or experience, to deal with the problems that are arising-"
"Well, I think it would be prudent for those in the Council who doubt their abilities to remember that they were the ones to deal with the Innsmouth situation, decades ago. They are also not so insular, that they believe that they have all the answers. And of course, they haven't tried to kill those on the same side they are."
Pryce silently sighed at that. {God help us, but it seems we've got a lot of groveling to do over Travers' damnable actions. Why did we ever elect him head of the Council, anyway? }
The Watcher then said, "I freely admit that the previous leadership...no. *All* of the Council, myself included, have made mistakes in the past. We've underestimated potential allies, and alienated them for no good reason. We've acted in ways to drive away those who, in the past, have been invaluable help in the struggle against evil. All we can do now is try to make up for our mistakes...and hope that not all of the bridges have been burned behind us?"
"I see. In that case, all I can say is such action gives us grounds to further proceed with the desired reconciliation," Bentallo replied, sensing the British man's humiliation and sincerity. "And as much as I'm glad to hear you say these things, I imagine that there's something else you're hoping for - besides the restoration of relations between the Church and the Council?"
"Yes, Monsignor. The Council feels that it is time - *long* past time - to reassess our hostility towards...a certain group in the colonies. And we were hoping that the Church could act as a intermediary?"
Bentallo smiled. "Tell me more."
Richmond, Virginia. March 6, 2001
Oz put down the phone, and scratched his head. {Now that was odd.} he thought to himself, his face not betraying his puzzlement.
The werewolf quickly made his way through the apartment. He wanted to see if Xander might be able to shed any light on the quandary just presented to him. And he found his old friend where he usually did, in the gym - working out.
Xander had Rachael as a sparring partner, and they were going at it very intensely. The speed of the former slave's blows was almost inhumanly fast, as Ms. Weitz struggled to defend herself against his onslaught. "Hey! Alexander, what do you think you're doing?"
"Keeping it real, 'cause bad guys don't play by good guy rules," Xander grunted, before using yet another technique Cleburne had taught him. "Get in the game, Rachael!"
They continued sparring, as Oz simply waited for a break in their workout before speaking. "Xander."
"Oz," Xander replied as Rachael glared at him, then bent over and put her hands on her knees, whilst panting heavily.
"Do you remember junior year, that hunter who was after werewolves? The one who hunted me, right after I became one?"
Xander searched his memory for a second. "Yeah, as I recall Buffy kicked him outta town...warned him never to come back, too."
"He ever make a return appearance? You know...there?" Oz asked.
"Not that I can remember. What's this about, old bud o' mine?" Xander was getting interested now, as this was something that his future memories had not prepared him for.
Oz told both members of the studio audience about his history with Gib Cain. How during the latter part of 1999 and the first few months of the year 2000, they had met up in various places around the world. And about their last meeting in Tibet, where the mercenary had changed sides in the end and helped kill the evil enemy of both him and his werewolf mentor, Shantou. "He just left a message for me to get in contact with him. I was wondering if you might know the reason why."
"Sorry. But ya know...this might be a trap," Xander commented. Rachael walked up behind her lover, instinctively wanting to get closer to him.
"Maybe, but he mentioned my cousin," Oz replied - with what passed for a concerned look on his face.
Xander screwed up his face, trying to remember. "You mean the one who-?"
Daniel nodded. "Yep, his name's Jordy. Xander, he's only 10 years old. And Uncle Ken and Aunt Maureen won't be able to just kill that guy - if he captures Jordy at the right time of month..."
"Don't worry about it," Xander said firmly. "Because it's gotta work both ways, if we're cooperating with the government - they're also cooperating with us! I'll make a phone call, and see what STW can come up with on this guy..."
Half an hour later
The Marine sergeant-major nicknamed Gunny walked into the living room of the apartment currently being utilized by Xander Harris and his merry little band of adventurers.
With Cleburne out of the country, Gunny had been assigned to keep an eye on them. He wasn't guarding them per se, just keeping watch in case things got out of hand. And Gunny silently contemplated the fact that with this group, things seemed to get out of hand quite often...
The TV was on, and some mindless drivel was on. Charles Rose absently noted that some Jerry Springer wannabe was trying to coax some woman to talk to a young teenage boy, who was acting like a spoilt brat - and the studio audience was hooting and shouting madly...
At times, Gunny was thankful that his world revolved around the Siberians, the Marine corps, his family and his neighbourhood parish. The same way it had for his father, and his father before him - well, except for the STW element. They were a new addition to the Rose family tradition.
Rachael was watching the TV with amusement. Oz was nearby tuning his guitar, although Gunny definitely got the vibe that the musician was tense. Anyone who didn't know him would have missed it, but Gunny and he had gotten quite friendly during the last few weeks, and the Marine knew the score.
Fred was nearby, hovering in the corner. Unlike the situation that would have resulted with Angel in LA, she wasn't madly scribbling mathematical formulae and crazy nonsense all over the walls in her room; she was slowly adapting to her new environment, and regaining her lost humanity.
Gunny knew that there had been some talk of continuing to make her see professional help, sending her to a rehab clinic or some such thing, but it had eventually been decided to trust Harris on this point. Fred seemed utterly devoted to - or perhaps fixated on - the man, and it was considered to be a mistake to split her up from him just yet.
Better to slowly wean her back into society, than make a sudden break of it and undo all the progress that had been made so far.
Xander entered the living room from the kitchen. "Gunny, you got my call?"
"Yeah, kid. Look, Mother Hen's currently out of the country running an errand in Europe, and I'm taking his phone calls in the meantime. So what's up?"
"Oz here got a call from his family."
Gunny nodded at that; he knew that it had taken quite a bit of convincing to allow the bass guitarist to get into contact with his relations in Sunnydale. Mother Hen had been more than a little concerned about the security implications, but had finally relented when Oz had given his word of honor to not mention anything about Xander or the Siberians.
"Is everything all right, Oz?" Rose then asked the man.
"Don't know," Oz answered, in a classic example of his typically short, noncommittal replies.
But he then proceeded to explain the information he had learned from his family, earlier in the day. "It's enough to make me I'm worried. Cain wants a meeting."
Gunny grimaced. "Trap?"
"Maybe, but Jordy's out in the cold. It looks like Cain's figured out that he's a werewolf, and the little guy's vulnerable. We need to make sure he's safe," Oz said.
"We?" Gunny asked with the tone of voice that said he was clearly worried now.
"Oh, yeah. I'm thinkin' a field trip to southern California is definitely in order," Xander said cheerfully.
"Oh no..." Gunny said, wincing when he thought about Cleburne would say when he heard about this.
Mexico City, Mexico. March 7, 2001
"You don't know what you're doing! Do you even know who I am?" the blonde female vampire yelled at the demon bouncer, a little after midnight.
"You're the annoying American I was told to throw out. So, Yankee go home." the hired muscle said laughingly in a distinctive Mexican accent, clearly pleased to find a use for that slogan.
Vamp Harmony stamped her foot in frustration, acting like a petulant child - almost. {It wasn't supposed to be like this, } the former Cordette thought angrily to herself. {I should be getting oodles of respect around here! Instead, they all look down on me. On *me*! I mean, do these people even *have* a fashion sense down here? }
In her mind, Harmony believed she was a feared Master vampire. She had the Slayer, *the Slayer*, as her arch-nemesis! She wasn't supposed to be treated like this...
"Just you wait. I'll be back with my minions!" the blonde ditz shouted.
The demon snickered at the thought of *this* particular vampire having minions. "Whatever you say, perra."
"Don't laugh! 'Cause I'll be back!" Harmony almost screeched, before stomping off into the night. The demon just laughed again at her as she left. Harmony had made a nuisance of herself before, and he was glad to finally be able to get rid of her.
"I hope I get a better reception than that, I have to say."
The bouncer turned around to the source of the comment, and the laughter instantly died in his throat. For standing to the side was another blonde, female vampire. However, there was nothing comical about her. She definitely had an air of age and power about her, and looked ready to snap his neck in an instant as well.
"I do not want any trouble. In fact, I was hoping to get off work early tonight," the demon said, holding his hands out in what he hoped was a calming manner.
"Good, then don't make me cause any trouble - and we'll both be happy. I'm here looking for someone," Darla said pointedly.
"Who?" the demon asked politely.
"The shaman calling himself 'The Doctor'," Darla said in a flat tone of voice.
Georgetown, Washington D.C. Later that day
"How's the trip going?" Esther asked Cleburne, as she cradled the phone under her chin.
"Frustrating. The monks, I can't find them!" Cleburne replied over the transatlantic phone line.
"They're all gone?"
"Well - not completely, the monastery is still there and it's still a tourist attraction. I bought some bottles of wine for you and the family, hope you'll like 'em! Anyway, a few of the monks seem to be around, tending to minor administrative stuff...but, most of them seem to have gone off exploring the world or whatever."
"Oh dear. They're not hiding from something, are they? Like you?" Esther asked.
"No, no, the monks here agreed to take a message and have Brother Feodor get in touch with me. Took some doing, but when they figured out the kid was who I was asking for, they were most helpful. However, they said it might be a while before he contacts the monastery, so I'm going to stay put for a few days. What's been going on back home?"
"You were absolutely right about Ashcroft; he was remarkably accepting of the existence of demons and vampires. The problem was stopping him from turning the FBI and the Department of Justice loose on them. Took some doing, let me tell you," Esther replied.
"Well, I told you. He's reined in now?"
"Yes, yes. He understands to rock the boat right now, would cause too many problems down the road. He's with the program. I suspect when September rolls around, he'll have everything on his end ready to roll," Esther said, as she used a fork to pick at the salad she had brought from home.
"Good. What about the spooky things in the night? Anything major?" Cleburne asked.
"Ah. Red's been up in Minneapolis, we caught wind of a wizard playing the stock market. Other than that, it's been relatively quiet..." Esther took a bite of her salad.
"What about the kid?"
Esther promptly almost choked on that bite when she heard Cleburne's question, and was silent for a second. One second too long, with Cleburne immediately catching onto the fact she wasn't in a hurry to answer him. "Esther?" came from the phone.
"Well, uh, he's off taking care of something..." Esther explained.
"Esther." The volume was louder this time.
"Well, Mr. Osbourne has a situation involving his cousin, the one who bit him. Mr. Howard has gone off with him to see if he can help. Not to worry, Joshua, Gunny is supervising them." And only that statement from Mrs. Marcum managed to stave off the eruption of anger from her long-time friend.
"Where?" Cleburne asked in resignation.
Esther sighed, and gathered her courage before answering. "California."
"What? California? That's where the demon lawyers are! That's where all sort of weirdness goes on. Vampires, demons, Hollywood..." Cleburne ranted.
Esther wondered for a second which items were the largest on the weird for Cleburne scale. "And let's not forget that southern California is the locale of that select group of people, who cause the kid those mind-numbing headaches! And he's headed there?"
"I know, I know, but he's not a prisoner. He's a part of the team, and thinks this is something that we should look into. Joshua, the bottom line is that Alexander can take care of himself. And you know that," Esther said.
She was met with silence on the other end of the phone. And the woman could almost imagine the look on Cleburne's face, as he stewed. Finally, after about ten seconds, Cleburne spoke.
"All right, but only 'cause I trust Gunny. He knows how to handle an emergency," Cleburne stated.
"After all, he's cleaned up after you enough times," Esther declared.
Cleburne ignored that and continued, "He also knows to call for help, if things get really weird. However, if he calls, I'm out of here. In the meantime, I'll be waiting for the head monk."
"Yes, you do that. And see if you can't get a cuckoo clock for me?" Esther replied, before hanging up with some enjoyment.
She therefore didn't hear Cleburne's response. "That's Switzerland, not the Czech Republic!"
San Diego, California. March 8, 2001
Oz and Xander entered the bookstore. Oz had agreed to meet Cain in a public place, in the middle of the day. Less chance of it being a trap that way, and besides - Xander liked books a lot these days.
Other companions of theirs had already entered the bookstore. Gunny was in the front of the store, and Rachael and Fred were near the back. They had spotted Cain a few minutes earlier, in the travel section of the store.
Oz, knowing this, made his way towards there. Cain saw him and moved to meet him. "Osbourne," the older man greeted Daniel.
"Cain," Oz said back. "This is Alex Howard," the werewolf introduced Xander.
The hunter looked Harris over, frowning for a moment as if in recognition - then obviously dismissing the idea. "Bringing friends, good idea. We're going to need all the help we can get," Cain commented acerbically.
"Why?" Oz said in his monotone voice.
"Well, uh..." Cain stumbled for a second. "Like I said in that message, I've come across a group of people who...have a thing for werewolves."
"Friends of yours?" Xander asked.
Cain shook his head. "No. They pay well, but even I have some standards."
"Surprise, surprise..." Xander said. Oz looked at Harris with an upraised eyebrow. "Sorry."
"Hey, I take it we all know I've done things in the past that nowadays, the guy on the street would disapprove of. But it's never bugged me before; I mean, the werewolves I went after *were* killing people. I was doing community service - from a certain point of view," Cain explained.
"And you got rich doing it," Xander observed sarcastically.
"Yeah, I was very well compensated. I'm not denying that," the bearded man continued. "Still, there are things I won't do for money. And killing children is one of them."
"Killing children?" Oz asked.
"Well, that's what these people are wanting. Really sick crap too, if you ask me. Guess the rich actually *do* get off on that sort of stuff, sometimes..."
"Okay, I'm confused now. Maybe if you tell us exactly what's going on, we can help?" Xander said.
"All right, there's this...diner's club, I guess you could call it. And they contracted for my services to get some specialty dishes, for their next dinner. I figured it would be a return to the good old days of hunting elephants, that sort of thing."
"But..." Oz prompted Cain.
"Well, they wanted my hunting skills, but it was the more recent ones I've developed," Cain explained. "They wanted me to bag a werewolf."
"Why would a diner's club want a werewolf?" Xander asked. The look on Xander's face a few seconds later though, showed that he had made the connection. "Oh, geez...but werewolves are human, apart from 3 nights a month!"
"I know. And cannibalism for profit is where I gotta draw the line. I was ready to tell the intermediary go screw himself, when I found out something that *you* would want to know," Cain said, looking at Oz. "They're looking for something special. And as a really sick thrill, we're talking young werewolves."
"Jordy," Oz said, with just a trace of emotion.
"Yep, they found their next main course," Cain said. "And you know the worst part, right? Once you kill the beast, it reverts back to human form. And that means...they're going to eat that little wolf boy alive..."
A private airfield near Los Angeles, California. Two hours later
The Siberian plane touched down with its full complement of passengers, plus the new member of their merry band - Gib Cain. He had been somewhat surprised when the mercenary realized just how much backing Oz now had; and ever the pragmatist, Cain suspected that his werewolf hunting days were now over.
Somehow, he didn't think that Oz's new friends would be inclined to put up with his activities...
Oz leaned forward in his seat. And Xander knew that any other person would be bouncing out of the seat by now. "Don't worry Oz, we'll get to him in time," he reassured his friend.
"I hope so. The thought of Jordy being the main banquet at a four-course meal is...disturbing," Oz said, in quite the understatement.
The plane came to a stop, and the ground crew hurriedly opened up the door to the jet so that the passengers could disembark. Gunny then led the group to a SUV in a nearby hangar; as STW kept caches of equipment and vehicles throughout the nation, for emergencies such as this.
Gunny drove the car through the streets of LA. And in the back, Cain was the subject of questioning from Fred. "You're a big game hunter? What's that like? Have you hunted rhinos and lions? I bet you have! Oh, have you been to Africa? I've always wanted to go there, there'd be so much to see and do..." she rattled on.
Cain leaned over to Rachael. "Is she always like this?" he asked.
"Fred's very intelligent," Rachael replied noncommittally. Cain had been trying to chat her up, ever since she had been introduced to him, and Weitz had been clearly less than enthused from the attention.
Xander smirked to himself. He really didn't like Cain; after all - he made, or used to make, his living hunting pseudo-humans when they couldn't think straight at night. Not something that the temporally displaced Scooby approved of; not in the least. "Oh yeah, she's a genius. One of the smartest people on the planet, actually. Could make a great living at anything she wanted, knows better than to hunt people."
Fred beamed at Xander's praise, while Cain glowered. But before Cain could respond Oz, sitting in the front passenger seat, shut off the cell phone he was carrying. Xander looked over at his friend. "What's wrong?"
"They're not answering. And Uncle Ken knew I was coming - I called them before I left, and they said they'd stay home until we got there," Oz explained.
"They couldn't have just stepped out into the yard for a moment?" Xander had to ask.
"They would have taken the portable handset with them," Oz said at once.
Xander turned to Gunny in the front seat. "Drive faster!"
Los Angeles, California. A short while later
Gunny pulled the SUV onto the street, where Oz's aunt and uncle lived. And instantly, they all saw the scene further down the road. The street was filled with police cruisers, and two ambulances. All of them with their emergency lights flashing.
"Shit," Xander whispered, as he looked over Gunny's shoulder.
Washington, D.C. Later that day
Internal Memorandum EYES ONLY - ULTRA MAXIMUM SECURE
To: Dr. Irving Hollins, University of Chicago
From: Esther Marcum, Office of the National Security Adviser
Date 03-08-2001
Re: Communications from Special Office, Vatican City
Dear Dr. Hollins,
I hope you've had a chance to review the summary of the conversation that Monsignor Bentallo had with the new head of the Watchers Council. Upon reading it myself, I must admit that I am hopeful of developments in this direction. A possible détente, and please don't let Colonel Cleburne know I used that word, with the Watchers would enable us to redirect resources far more efficiently. The good Monsignor feels that he can arrange a meeting within the next several weeks.
I would add that we might be able to combine the idea that you and Cleburne came up with, about the exchange of ideas for fighting demons at the same time. When Joshua returns from Europe, I intend to discuss the matter with him.
Also, how is your research coming along with the old Project Barsoom files? Any hints for the rest of us as to what you're up to in your spare time, would be most appreciated.
As a final note, Bethany Chaulk is doing well at Warehouse 23. She apparently doesn't like the institutional nature of the place, which is completely understandable. Any suggestions therefore on a facility we could move her to?
E.M.
Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Later that night
"Forget it. *You* are not singing!" Lorne said with determination. Staring straight at Xander, who'd just entered the nightclub accompanied by Oz and Gunny.
"What?" Xander said in mock outrage. "I thought I did a fairly decent job, the last time-"
"That you did, but the migraine headaches afterwards did *not* make me a happy camper at all!" Lorne riposted in response.
The three Siberians made their way to the bar that Lorne was leaning against. "Well, hopefully we won't need to sing. We just need information," Xander said.
"Fine, let's see what can I do without having to break into the extra strength Tylenol," Lorne replied, as he motioned for the three to sit at the stools in front of the bar. "So, what are you looking for?"
"Werewolves," Oz says simply.
"Ah. Mostly nice people, well - except for during those three nights a month. Those nights, well, you just can't talk to them and they're bad for business. I remember about three years ago, one of them got loose in here. Couldn't do anything with the spell in place, but he scared the be-jeesus outta all the other customers! No one wanted to drink or sing with a werewolf stomping around the club, I tell you..."
"Anything strange going on with werewolves?" Gunny asked.
Lorne shook his head. "No. I mean their time of the month is coming up, but nothing beyond that..."
"Anyone asking about werewolves?" Oz said.
"Other than you cupcakes? No," Lorne said, then he saw the disappointment on their faces. "Sorry I can't help out more-"
"But I can."
The four at the bar turned towards the voice that had just spoken. And standing there was the Siberians' old friend and former pet thief, Gwen Raiden.
"You know..." she said with a Look towards Xander, "You could have given me more of a warning about these *damned* headaches, that come with the visions! I hate to think what that Cordelia chick must have felt like, at this stage! I mean, I have my own little enhancements to soften the blow - but her, she had nothing except her second-rate sense of humor!" Gwen took a seat at the bar.
"How is Cordy these days?" Xander asked with sincere concern in his voice. Something that a year ago, he would have never have believed himself capable of anymore.
"Annoying as hell. You actually used to date her? Well, then let me tell you, I'm really impressed with your patience!" Xander gave Gwen a look and she hurriedly continued, "But yeah, she's fine. Getting a life and everything. Still working for your favorite vampire."
"You can help us?" Xander asked, knowing they were working against the clock here.
Gwen nodded. "Yeah - the latest vision I got an hour ago, well...it looks like it was intended for you," she said to Xander.
"What was it?" Xander asked. {Kinda strange, the Powers sending her a vision concerning me...still, *I'm* not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth! }
"I saw a kid being held in chains, in some kind of huge kitchen. And I mean, we're talking banquet hall huge. Little guy's scared out of his wits, as he gets gagged and placed on some gigantic tray with fruits and vegetables! Then I see you and your friend there..." She motioned at Oz. "Followed by a name, Jacob Crane, and something about the 'exotic food' business."
Gwen looked at the three men in front of her, and gauged their reactions. "I take it this was something you all came in here looking for?"
Premsyl Brod Koruna Monastery, Czech Republic. March 9, 2001
"My son. I'm sorry I did not learn of your message sooner; but I have been travelling a great deal recently, and am not as diligent as I should be in checking with the monastery for messages," the Abbot, Brother Feodor said as he motioned for Cleburne to sit down opposite from him.
They were in the simple office that Feodor had used when he had resided in the monastery. He still used it, but only when he was in residence. Which, Cleburne could tell from the undisturbed nature of the office, was not as often as it used to be.
"No need to apologize, Brother Feodor. I'm just happy you checked in when you did. I was hoping to get home soon to help out with a situation," Cleburne explained. "Hopefully, you can help me with a little problem."
"And that would be?" Feodor said.
"You do, of course, remember when I was here last?" Cleburne had actually met the Abbot when Xander was leaving last year.
"Oh yes, we had to reassure quite a few children afterwards," Feodor said with a grin.
Cleburne smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I was worried about the kid."
"Quite understandable. Admirable indeed."
"It's good you think that Mr. Abbot, because that's why I'm here again. Something's developed with the kid, which has me worried. There's been an event which causes me to fear for the future."
Feodor frowned at that. "Go on. What worries you?"
Cleburne proceeded to explain, leaving out names and exact details, on what had happened when Dawn had been in the car wreck and Xander found himself in some kind of mind link with the human form of the Key.
"So. You are worried because Dawn Summers' injuries caused the Timetripper to lapse into a state where he could communicate telepathically with her?" Feodor asked, causing a sigh from Cleburne.
{Once, just once, I wish a secret could remain a secret!} Cleburne mentally reproached himself. He knew for a fact that several facts remained secret, when they were supposed to.
Cleburne collected himself and replied, "Yeah, well. The kid just dropped like a stone, and the doctors couldn't figure out what was going on. We couldn't rouse him and frankly, we were getting scared. Then the kid wakes up, and tells us everything that's happened."
"So then, everything turned out for the best?" Feodor said.
Cleburne caught himself before answering. Thus, he bit down the tart reply he had concerning Kevin and Joyce. "Well, it did when it came to Dawn and our boy in question. However, what if Mr. Howard had been driving when he went all snooze-y? He could have really been hurt."
Feodor looked thoughtful for a second. "You raise a valid point. But he wasn't driving at the time-"
"*This* time, yeah. But next time, he might be somewhere or doing something that'd cause him to be in danger, if he suddenly goes to sleep. In case I didn't make it clear, the kid is *not* sitting on the sidelines in this game! He wouldn't, even if I asked him to. He's constantly going into harm's way. So your little spell could have unintended yet deadly consequences..." Cleburne declared.
"What do you suggest? Certainly you can't want to return the Key to its previous form?" Feodor said in an offended tone.
"No!" Cleburne said in an equally offended tone. "But there must be a way to make the situation less dangerous to the guy. So tell me what exactly you did to the Key, to link her with him that way."
Feodor spent the next 15 minutes explaining the connection between Xander and Dawn. Cleburne actually chuckled when he realized one of the implications of the spell, "Oh, yeah, I can have fun with this. However, that's for later! Okay...I think I know a way for your spell to work, and to reduce the chances the kid gets hurt. The question is, can you do it."
Brother Feodor leaned forward. "Tell me what you have in mind."
Outside Jacob Crane's estate, Los Angeles, California. Later that day
Xander looked around the yard from across the street. He couldn't see much, from his vantagepoint. However, one of the advantages of working with the government? Really nifty photographs of everyone's homes. Aerial photos, well - photos taken from orbit by spy satellites, anyway. They also had real easy access to building plans from city hall.
Xander suspected that Willow would be in babble heaven, if she had access to the quantity of information that he did now. It definitely put to shame the stuff from the early days of the Scooby gang.
Of course, the stakes had changed over the years. Or had they, Xander wondered. Back then, lives had been at stake. Now lives were also at stake, more specifically one life; Oz's little cousin Jordy.
The information given to them by Gwen had quickly been used to develop more solid information. And Jacob Crane, unknowingly, had become the target of a very large and dangerous segment of the U.S. government. They had moved quickly and thoroughly to learn everything they could about him.
Which, considering the United States government was the one looking, was quite a bit. Xander knew that tax records and passport data had been pulled, and Jacob Crane had been on an extended trip to Sri Lanka recently. Inquiries were being made in that country to see if anything could be learned about his trip to there.
The fact that he had sent out a large numbers of dinner invitations for the next evening had convinced the Siberians that they couldn't wait past tonight to search his estate. Waiting until tomorrow night to gamble on catching those who were also part of the dinner club, was too risky with regard to Jordy's life.
So tonight, Xander, Oz and several dozen of their closest friends were surrounding his estate, all dressed in black and body armor, intending to invite themselves in before too long.
Rachael and Cain were both also present. Fred had wanted to come too, but she was back with the paramedics, as Xander had been firm on that point. He didn't want to endanger Fred in a possible firefight. He couldn't risk the possibility of her being hurt on his conscience.
Xander shifted his weight. "How much longer?" he whispered to Oz next to him.
"Soon," Oz replied. And the guy was showing incredible self-restraint, considering who was being held inside.
"You know, one day you'll have to teach me how to do that," Xander said to his friend.
"Do what?" Oz asked.
"Remain calm, no matter what's going on. I could certainly use that trick," Xander replied.
"You're pretty good in keeping your head in any situation, at least that's what Groo told me back on the Wasp, Fred also. Actually, you seem to be able to handle almost anything thrown your way," Oz noted.
Xander half-smiled at that. He had missed the big guy from Pylea, and briefly wondered what the former enforcer of the demon priests was up to these days. And also when he, Fred and Oz would meet the former champion of the realm again...
Not to mention, Oz was tightlipped at even the best of times. His praise now was almost the length of a big speech, in Oz talk! Still, the earpieces of the radios that both of them were wearing preempted Xander's response - as they came to life.
"All units get ready, on my mark..." Gunny's voice came through as Xander, Oz and those nearby checked their weapons one last time and prepared themselves.
About 15 seconds passed. Suddenly, the lights of the estate blinked out. "Go! Go! Go!" Gunny said in everyone's earpiece.
Xander and the others hurried forward. Harris stopped for a second and gave Oz a hand up the wall, then followed himself.
Xander found himself in a large rectangular yard, but didn't pause to admire the view as he hurried towards the darkened house. Inside, he could see a couple of flashlight beams pop on. Those inside the house clearly hadn't realized yet they were under attack.
As Xander got to the tiled veranda of the mansion, he heard a large mechanical roar from the driveway. He picked up the pace, knowing that the LAPD APC tearing through the driveway gate would not go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the mansion.
Xander got to the glass door, as he heard the screech of the gate being run over by the APC. He didn't slow his pace and went right through the door, glass shattering - Oz barely a step behind him.
"Federal agents, drop your weapons!" Xander shouted, hoping the bad guys wouldn't want to tangle with the government and risk prison - or worse.
But the goon, as for all the world that was what he looked like, wasn't the type to just blithely cooperate with some jerks who simply happened to drop by. Aiming at Oz and about to pull the trigger, he then felt a stinging sensation in his ear - as Xander's bullet clipped his left aural orifice.
"The next one puts your dead ass in the city morgue," Xander said in an ice-cold voice, aiming for directly between the eyes - as Oz realized how this was twice now that his old friend had saved his life, with his blinding speed.
Well, *now* the goon clearly knew better than to tangle with these armed invaders. So he threw down the firearm he had been carrying, and quickly raised his hands. The Siberian who had followed Xander and Oz through the glass door took him into custody.
The two former Slayerettes instantly continued further into the house. They made their way through the hallways in the dark, having memorized the floorplan of the building before the raid. Throughout the house, they could hear the sounds of other Siberians encountering and taking into custody the occupants of the residence.
Oz sprinted past Xander, his head upturned. {He's got the scent. Good! } Xander thought.
Thus, Harris started following the werewolf. After several twists and turns in the dark, they found themselves in a large modern kitchen. In the corner, a pair of chains was attached to the wall. An *empty* pair of chains.
Oz stood still for a second, sniffing the air. He turned to one of the doors leading out of the kitchen. "Come on," he said, before the short guy started through that door.
Xander followed quickly behind the Garou as they ran through a large dining room, one in the very early stages of being set up for a huge feast. Xander inwardly raged at the thought of who the main course was to have been, at said feast...
Nearby, they suddenly heard the sound of gunshots echoing in the mansion. The first one, Xander's soldier persona was able to identify it as a pistol shot. But clearly, whoever had fired it hadn't reckoned on the response he had gotten - as several assault rifles fired in return. There were no further shots from the pistol.
Oz ran into an entryway. He suddenly stopped, and looked around. Xander could tell that the werewolf was getting frustrated, "What's wrong?" he shouted.
"Gunpowder from the shooting, it's fouling up my sense of smell. I'm having trouble keeping the scent..." Oz concentrated for a few seconds.
As he did that, Rachael and Cain came running up to join them. Daniel's brow furrowed briefly, "This way!" He started running again, followed by his companions.
Oz ran out a door onto a brick pathway in the yard. They ran down the pathway, the musician picking up speed, and the others apart from Xander starting to fall behind. They all followed the pathway through the high bushes that obscured the house and yard from the outside world...
Suddenly, the pathway turned to a large clear patch of the yard - and in the middle of it was a paved helipad. From that pad, a helicopter was lifting off. Oz sprinted for the escape device, but failed to reach it before the vehicle was airborne.
"Jordy's on that chopper," he said in hidden frustration, barely restraining the urge to wolf out.
Rachael keyed the microphone to her radio, as she and Cain arrived on the scene. "Hostile helo escaping from the south edge of the lawn. We need pickup for immediate pursuit!"
"Roger that," was heard in response to that. The others looked at her questioningly.
"Come on, any operation which Cleburne has any influence on? It's going to have a helo or two floating around somewhere, in case something goes wrong!" As she finished her sentence, a Blackhawk helicopter dropped down and hovered over the pad, as the Siberians jumped aboard.
The pilot then zoomed up into the air in pursuit of the enemy craft. Oz quickly explained the situation to everyone else in the flying machine, "Jordy's scent, along with one or two others, was a straight line from the kitchen to the helo pad."
"Crane's probably running, and thinks the kid is his insurance out of the situation," Rachael said.
"Not to mention, the only real witness so far who can link him with that little scheme of his," Cain observed.
"Got them," the pilot said, the other helicopter now visible in the night sky in front of them. Xander noted that the two pilots in the front of the helicopter were not wearing night-vision goggles. "Looks like they're headed downtown..." the pilot maneuvered the helicopter in pursuit.
"Isn't Crane's offices downtown?" Rachael asked.
"She's right," Xander said. "He's probably heading there..."
A quick radio transmission arranged for a LAPD contingent to be awaiting him, if that was indeed where the exotic food dealer was headed. Either way, though, the Siberian helicopter kept doggedly following Crane's helicopter. As Crane's pilot was good, but the military pilots used by the Siberians were better...
Downtown Los Angeles. The same time
"Angel - look out!"
Angel jumped back at the sound of Gunn's shout. And thus, the punch from the demon swung through where his head had just been. The vampire quickly scrunched down and delivered a haymaker into the demon's gut, as the bad guy grunted and staggered back.
It was therapeutic, in one sense. Ever since Darla had left the Fang Gang - and Angel had made up some excuse with regards to all that, which no one really believed - the Champion had definitely needed to vent his feelings of frustration and apprehension.
In any case, Gunn quickly followed up by chopping off the demon's head, and the body flopped to the ground. Charles turned around, still holding onto the custom-built axe, "Take that - ya big, creepy, ugly thing!" he said to the still-twitching body.
"Oh, that's original!" Cordy snapped. "Come on, you can come up with something better than that! I mean, am I going to have to give classes on how to make good quips during the Slayage? At least back in high school, there was some raw talent when it came to the wisecracks..."
Angel raised an eyebrow at Cordelia's statement. For some reason, he found the image of Cordy being a schoolteacher as something rather funny. So he leaned over to throw a one-liner her way, remembering back to her high school days...
"So that would make you who? Principal Snyder?"
The vampire was instantly rewarded by a look of outrage on Cordy's face. However, the blistering reply she was about to send his way was cut short - by the roar of a helicopter zooming above their heads.
"What the..." Cordy started to say, only to be cut off by the roar of a second helicopter. Angel recognized that one to be of military make. He could also for just a brief second see the movement in that helicopter...
Nearby, Cordelia Chase watched the two helicopters continue their chase. A scowl crossed her face, as for some reason - she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Above downtown Los Angeles. The same time
Xander looked down at the street they had just overflown. "Guys, we get much lower and we're going to have to worry about potholes..."
"Oh, this? This is nothing. You should have been there in Panama, back in '89! Got my chopper shot up and had to fly the thing down the street, and I *do* mean at street level. Sparks were flying up off the road, the whole way!" the pilot said, without looking back at Xander.
Next to Rachael, Cain rolled his eyes. {Crazy army grunts!} he thought to himself. Cain suddenly halfway wished that he had just given the information to the Osbourne kid, and then just made himself scarce.
But what with the contacts and resources Crane had...well.
As his father used to say - there are some enemies you don't leave behind alive, before the shooting ends. Otherwise, five or ten years down the road, you start your car one morning - and end up a statistic in the newspapers.
Cain could see Oz leaning forward, looking to a casual observer as calm and serene as could be. However, Xander wasn't fooled. He could see that Oz was getting frustrated. "Can we force them down or anything?" Harris asked the pilot.
"Too risky. Don't want to endanger the kid," the pilot replied.
"Well, what do we do then?" Xander asked. "Follow them till they decide to give up?"
"That's about the size of it," the co-pilot replied.
Behind Xander, Oz started taking off his armor. "Get closer," he said.
Harris turned back, and saw what Oz was doing. "You sure?" he asked his friend.
"He's alone. He's scared. He's family," Oz said in explanation.
Xander nodded in understanding. "Get as close to them as you can," he said to the pilots.
The chopper zoomed forward. The Blackhawk was more powerful than the civilian helicopter it was chasing, but before, the pilots had held their distance out of caution. Now, the situation had changed...
Rachael turned to look at the two former Scoobies, trying to figure out what they were up to. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Don't worry, everything's under control," Xander said in a reassuring voice.
But upon hearing that, Rachael immediately started worrying even more. "What are you two doing?" She looked around, to make sure that there wasn't a shoulder-launched AA missile around they might use...
"We're getting Jordy back," Xander said succinctly.
"I'm going alone," Oz said, as he removed his shirt.
"No you're not!" Xander said at once.
"Family. And you can't unleash the wolf," Oz replied, as he suddenly flung open the side door of the helicopter. Nearby, Crane's helicopter got closer. "Got to time this right..." Oz bowed his head, and suddenly got a lot furrier.
Cain shouted, "Bloody hell!" He wasn't used to being this close to a werewolf, without shooting at it.
"Shut up!" Xander snapped at him at once.
"What the heck is...?" the co-pilot yelled, at the sudden commotion behind him and the rush of air from the open door. He craned his neck back for a look. "Oh, shit..." he then said, when he saw a werewolf crouching behind him.
"Get closer!" Xander shouted up at the pilot.
The pilot, being the professional he was, ignored the distraction unfolding behind him and concentrated on getting as close as possible to the subject of his chase.
Suddenly, Werewolf Oz leapt out of the Blackhawk. The sudden change in weight threw the helicopter off balance though, as the pilots fought to regain control. Xander held on tightly, as he watched the werewolf soar through the air, arms outstretched.
The other helicopter seemed to try to avoid the furry missile headed towards it...
However, it couldn't move fast enough as Oz's huge outstretched arm grabbed the landing skid. The wolf then doggedly held on with its inhuman strength, despite the efforts of the pilot to shake him loose.
Xander and the others watched in amazement as Werewolf Oz pulled himself up to parallel with the door to the helicopter. The door to the helicopter's interior was then *savagely* pulled away from the frame by the enraged creature, as it tumbled down towards an unsuspecting public below.
Quickly, Werewolf Oz jumped into the enemy helicopter.
"I think the pilot's had enough," Rachael commented as the subject of their chase suddenly headed towards the ground, looking for a landing spot. The helicopter jerked around a few times, and Xander suspected that the pilot was...distracted.
The Siberians' helicopter followed it down. Crane's chopper unceremoniously landed with an almost-audible thud in a park. The Blackhawk touched down a short distance away, as Xander and the others scrambled out and rushed towards their quarry as its blades slowed down.
The pilot scrambled out of the helicopter. "Help! There's a wild animal in there!" he cried out.
"Yeah, and you cash his checks every payday!" Xander snarled back, as he backhanded the pilot. Rachael moved quickly to take him into custody, cuffing him and putting him face-down on the grass.
A couple of gunshots rang out from within the helicopter. In response, a body quickly came flying out. The bodyguard hit the ground hard, but tried to scramble right back up.
"Don't," Rachael said, pointing her submachine gun at the head of the guard. The man instantly dropped the pistol he had been carrying, and raised his hands in surrender. He soon joined the pilot, face down in handcuffs as Cain did the procedure this time.
A child tumbled out of the helicopter. {Jordy} Xander realized, as he hurried over to the kid.
Jordy looked up. "Is that cousin Oz?" he asked with big eyes.
"Yeah, that's him. Are you all right, Jordy?" Xander asked.
Jordy nodded. "I am now. I hope Oz kills that fucking bastard..."
Xander blinked a little bit, he wasn't used to such language from a child this age. The Siberians, yes, but not pre-teenagers! He looked around for a second; Harris saw Cain, but quickly dismissed him as someone to watch over the kid for a second. "Rachael, this is Jordy. Can you talk to him for a sec?"
"Sure. Hello, Jordy, I'm Rachael," the Israeli secret agent said as she walked up to them.
"Hi. Is that a machine gun?" Xander vaguely heard Jordy saying as he ran towards the helicopter, Cain following closely behind.
The two of them arrived at the helicopter. Xander looked in and knew instantly that there was no danger of Jacob Crane, despite having been bitten by a werewolf, of becoming one himself. You generally have to be in one piece, to become cursed that way; a requirement that Crane did not meet at the present moment.
Cain looked over Xander's shoulder, as Oz reverted to human form. "Ah, ya know what? I'm glad now I didn't take Crane up on his job offer. I can't see how he could possibly ever sign a check, with his hand in that many pieces! Still..."
Gib Cain then quickly proceeded to search the corpse, and appropriate for himself whatever cash and the expensive wristwatch that was available. He then looked around and said, "What? Crane's not gonna need it, not where he's going to spend the rest of eternity - and I *do* have my expenses to cover! Adios Osbourne, Mr. Howard. Till we meet again..."
Cain then proceeded to calmly walk off, casually ignoring Xander's dirty look.
Los Angeles, California. March 10, 2001
"It was so cool mom, I rode in a military helicopter. You know the ones you see soldiers jump out of? There were soldiers everywhere," Jordy said, with the excitement of childhood hero worship. And his cousin silently marveled at the resilience of youth after dealing with adversity.
Oz was with Jordy, who had just been taken back to his parents' home. The destruction to the house from Crane's goons had been mostly repaired. As the only real damage had been to the front door, when they had stormed into the residence.
Roughing up Jordy's father had been the other big thing they had done. However, with all of Crane's files now in the possession of the Siberians, all of the commandos who had been working for him were now in custody, including those who had kidnapped the young child. Gunny had said that they all faced long prison sentences, and weren't likely to be a problem again anytime soon.
In the meantime, Jordy had been checked over by the doctors. Well, they'd had to wait until after he had reverted to human form, it was a full moon after all. The Siberians had been lucky there, in that the chase had been concluded before moonrise - and that they had been able to get the child werewolf to a holding area in time...
Once the sun had risen, the medical teams had instantly gone to work. And they'd swiftly reported that there had been no significant damage done to the child, so Jordy had quickly been reunited with his parents.
Xander had stayed away during the reunion; not that he didn't want to be there, but Ken and Maureen Osbourne had often been to Sunnydale - and there was a *remote* chance they could figure out who he really was. Oz couldn't do that though, since he was family; and the hero of the hour, as far as his relatives were concerned.
"How's it going in there, do you think?" Gunny asked Xander, as they waited in the car.
"Touching Hallmark moment. Well, a weirdly werewolf Hallmark moment anyway. Happy families and all that," Xander said. "Oz tells me you have a family?"
Gunny nodded, and pulled out his wallet. He showed Xander a picture; it was of Gunny, a woman and four children of various ages. "I do indeed. Great kids, all of them." Gunny started pointing at each individual kid, "That's Carla the youngest, she's seven. Raymond is ten, Charles Junior is twelve and Theresa's the oldest at fifteen. She's a real genius, always working on the computer," Gunny said with more than a trace of pride.
Xander smiled with a touch of jealousy, "Congratulations, Gunny. I envy you, man, I really do."
Charles Rose looked at his companion, getting the feeling something wasn't quite right with this situation. "There's something you want to say, lieutenant?"
Harris sighed. "Don't call me that, okay?"
"Why not?"
"Because Lt. Alexander Howard, United States Marine Corps, doesn't in fact exist. He's nothing but a lie, Gunny - a fabrication based on some fake papers, with an official stamp on them. He's someone that never went to the academy in Annapolis, and never earned his lieutenant's bars. You ever seen me in Marine military uniform? No, and you won't either. Because I refuse to be that much of a liar and a hypocrite, unless it ever happens to be in the line of duty..."
Xander lapsed into silence, as Gunny just stared at him. {I'm obviously gonna have to talk to the colonel about this, soon as he gets back from Europe.}
Richmond, Virginia. March 11, 2001
Xander sat on the balcony of his apartment building staring at the stars, with a beer in his hand - much like he had last month, during Valentine's Day. However, there was no chance of history repeating itself here; as Rachael and Fred were both still in LA, as was Oz.
The two women had gone to visit the Transuding Furies, for some reason; and the werewolf was staying with his family for a while, who had begged him to stick around - and not just disappear off somewhere, like he had nearly 18 months ago.
Thus Harris was now more-or-less killing time, and so he glanced at the book that he had been reading tonight.
The Holy Bible, containing the Book of Revelations.
Xander hadn't ever forgotten what he had learned from the sacred tome last year, and the recent adventure with Oz's relatives had tonight made him think about someone that he had once considered family - in spirit, if not blood.
Willow.
The thing was, the male former Scooby knew things that she didn't. For example, Xander knew that a lot of the criminally negligent and criminally corrupt cops in the Sunnydale PD had by now been booted out, or warned that they would be assigned to lone patrols at night - on foot...
And thus, after cleaning house somewhat, a new breed of officer was entering the department; men and women who knew the score, and had been recruited from outside the town that Richard Wilkins had built for demons to feed upon.
And these new cops were effectively acting as Willow's personal bodyguards; working in shifts behind the scenes, and constantly taking out the Bringers who were foolish enough to come anywhere near her or any of the other Scoobies.
Looking at the Bible again, Xander took a sip from his beer and wondered what the future would hold. Would Miss Rosenberg empower all the potential Slayers one day, as she had done in that other world?
Or would she fall victim once more to the magic addiction that that piece of scum named Rack would induce, and never do another spell again in her entire life - since Warren wasn't around now to make her break the personal vow she had undertaken, by killing Tara.
Questions, questions, and no easy answers to them either, that he could see.
Deep in thought, Harris was finally honest with himself - and privately admitted that the old bitterness from 1998 wasn't exactly there anymore. Too much had happened over the last two years; not the least of which had been the venting process in Pylea, when he and Dark Willow had faced off in his drug-induced dreams.
Similarly with Cordelia and Anya, Xander had put his issues into some sort of perspective, and managed to move on.
But if that was the case...why hadn't he been able to do the same, for Buffy Summers?
Taking a long gulp of beer and once again staring at the stars, Xander let his mind roam free, comparing both timelines as well as his future knowledge. He thought of the blonde woman he had once considered his hero, who he'd loved with all his heart during sophomore year...and who along with the other two girls, had left him to die on the sidewalk that night.
A brooding expression came onto his face, as Harris then thought of what had happened during 2003 in his future memories. And the more he thought about it, the more the man came to the conclusion that a lot of his current animosity was based on Buffy's actions with regard to - the ensouled version of Spike.
Xander remembered the demon in disguise called Lissa, who had tried to unleash some Turok-Han in the new high school's basement - by spilling his blood onto that damned seal. And when Buffy, Spike and Robin Wood had come to rescue him...while he was lying on the ground, possibly bleeding from that stab wound - she had spared him barely a glance. Buffy had been too busy worrying over the nature of Spike's wounds...
And when Kennedy had helped Willow break that hex that Amy Madison had cast upon the redhead, Buffy had again been elsewhere worrying about Spike's lethal chip-induced migraines; and arranging to get the inhibitor removed, at the Initiative's old bunker.
And after the gang had tried to de-trigger Spike, when he had gone beserk and hurled his cot at Dawn? While Willow had been tending to the gash he had caused on the brunette Key's head, Buffy had released the undead guy from his chains and allowed him the run of the house...putting everyone at risk, if the First managed to get the vampire under its control again...
Harris then thought, { Basically, I know that she has the potential to do all those things all over again, not to mention that incident where I lost my eye - that's what my problem with her really is, isn't it? But maybe, just maybe, it'll all be different this time around. Because as long as Joyce is still there...I kind of doubt Buffy will act the way she did then, if things somehow ever end up the same way they did before. }
At least, Xander certainly hoped so.
Harris then heard movement in the kitchen coming towards him. Whoever it was, he wasn't even trying to hide his approach; so Xander suspected that whoever was coming, he belonged here.
"Drinking a beer, while reading the Bible. I tell you, kid, you're getting to be more and more of a Southerner every day," Cleburne said, as he looked over Xander's shoulder.
"How was Europe?" Xander asked, as Cleburne sat down on the balcony in a chair next to him. Before he answered, Joshua opened the bottle of beer he had carried out from the kitchen.
"Full of Europeans. You know, I kinda miss not being able to drop in on England the way I used to. I liked the British, their Royal Marines are top-notch," Cleburne said, before taking a pull of his beer.
"Well, you know, threatening to blow up a large chunk of downtown London wouldn't make you very popular over there. But at least they're not trying to drag us over to merry olde England, or whatever. The Watchers, they're still hunting me - remember?" Xander said before he took a gulp of beer.
"That might change soon," Cleburne said cryptically. "But we'll talk about that later. Gunny told me about your little adventure recently, with the werewolf hunter."
Xander sighed. "You going to chew my ass out for that?"
Cleburne shook his head. "No, just let you know that you did pretty well, of course, you keep doing your Don Quixote imitation that way, you might get me really worried."
Xander looked questioningly at the Marine colonel. "Don Quixote?"
Cleburne chuckled. "I'm going to have to talk to the Wizard about adding some literature classes to your studies."
Xander groaned. "Oh, great, more schoolwork. You know, officially Xander Harris is dead, so dead men shouldn't have to worry about schoolwork!"
"Or the end of the world?" Cleburne commented.
"Okay, there is that," Xander replied. "So, what brings you over here in such a mellow mood? Normally, you're in gung-ho mode."
Cleburne shook his head. He didn't want to tell Xander yet about the conversation that he and Gunny had had earlier in the day. "Well, two things. First, you might want to do a little research about Iceland. However, the main thing I wanted to ask you - do you like fishing?"
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. March 13, 2001
"Ah, come on. It's not like you blokes did what you were supposed to do anyway!" Spike protested. "I mean, I contracted for a dead Slayer. And I never got a dead Slayer, did I?"
"Oh, but I did. Killed me one, not the blonde one, but the chocolate one. Did that myself, and none of your rings helped," Drusilla declared in her sing-song voice.
The three men sitting across the table from them shifted uncomfortably. Even though they were confident of their abilities, someone as insane and powerful as Drusilla was enough to slightly unnerve them.
The leader quickly said, "Yes, so you did - it was reported to us how the Slayer called Kendra was killed a few months later. However..."
He turned his attention back to Spike. "...you were supposed to pay for services rendered, as stipulated by the contract. After all, it was a very expensive assignment for us. Two of our best operatives were killed! And it cost time and money to replace them. Thus, the Order of Taraka is not happy that the root cause of their deaths, your contract, is still in arrears..."
Spike shuddered a bit. He suspected that he and Dru could outfight these three representatives of the Order, if it came to that. However, that would only be a temporary solution at best; others of their kind would come. He needed to reach a permanent resolution of this matter.
"Wait, 'ang on - that part wasn't *my* fault. The bloody Slayer 'n her friends did all that! Why aren't you going after them, then?" he suddenly asked in exasperation.
"No one is paying us to pursue those individuals. They don't owe us money. You do," the second of the Tarakan assassins said.
Spike involuntarily blanched at that. Demonic assassins working for demonic accountants, now that was an image that scared even him! "Look, I don't 'ave the cash right now, and you probably know that already - right? Not bloody likely I'll be able to get it anytime soon without callin' some major attention to myself, either. So, maybe we can work something else out?"
The third Tarakan smiled at once. "Interesting that you should suggest that..."
1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. March 15, 2001
"Come on, Mom," Dawn said, as she led her mother down the walkway to their home.
Joyce followed along in her motorized wheelchair. The home of the Summers family had changed, since the middle-aged woman had last seen it. And it wasn't just the change of months, the passing of winter into spring, as the ramp up the sidewalk attested to.
Giles, who was walking behind Joyce, was the driving force behind all the recent changes. As once the lady had been officially declared out of medical danger, Rupert had put his mind to what changes would need to be made for her and her new situation. Buffy and Dawn were too concerned with their mother's physical condition to put too much thought into what changes to the house would need to be made.
So the Englishman had contacted a construction company, to make the necessary modifications to the Summers home. Through a quirk of fate, he had contacted the very same company that in the previous history had employed Xander Harris. Indeed, if Xander has been working for them in this reality, this was exactly the kind of job they would have assigned him to supervise.
However fate, destiny or luck - call it what you will - had decided otherwise for young Mr. Harris, and he was far, far away from the mouth of Hell and thus unavailable for this particular assignment. Still, the foreman and his construction crew had made good use of the time that Joyce Summers had been in the hospital.
In addition to the ramp up to front porch, they'd added a chair lift on the stairway, enabling Joyce to easily get up and down the stairs. Her bedroom and bathroom had all been adapted to her new situation, too. And when it was finished, Giles had reason to be pleased.
In the meantime, Buffy and Dawn had overseen everything else needed as to her physical therapy for after Joyce got out of the hospital. Buffy had already started to rearrange her class schedules, to take her mom to her therapy. The doctors were still unsure if Joyce would ever be able to walk again, but they did know that going to therapy would increase her odds of doing so.
So Buffy and Giles were determined to get her to every available session, no matter what the cost.
As Joyce got to the bottom of the ramp, the front door of the house opened up and Willow and Tara came out smiling. "Hey, Mrs. Summers! Welcome home," Willow said.
"Thank you Willow, and let me just say - I'm *so* happy to be here. To be able to sleep in my own bed again," Joyce replied with a smile as the chair moved up the ramp, the engine softly whirring as it did so. Willow held the door open for her as Buffy, Dawn and Giles followed her in.
Joyce looked around the living room. A banner saying 'Welcome Home Joyce!' was hung above the fireplace. There was a punch bowl set up on the coffee table; Anya and Andrew were busy filling up glasses, while Jonathan came in from the kitchen carrying a bowl of chips.
"Good Lord, it all looks so wonderful. I, I really appreciate all that you've done," Joyce announced, looking around.
"It was nothing, Mrs. Summers, we're just glad to help," Jonathan replied, as he put the bowl on the mantelpiece.
"Nothing? I actually spent my hard-earned cash on this. That's definitely more than nothing!" Anya muttered, ignoring the glares sent her way by Buffy, Giles, Willow and Jonathan.
Luckily, Joyce was politely and selectively deaf when it came to the ex-demon's comments. "Nonsense, Jonathan. I know that you, that everyone put a lot of work and effort into this. And, I-I really do appreciate it. I'm going to repay your kindness someday-"
"Mom, don't think like that. We're doing this because we love you, not 'cause we're hoping for some reward," Buffy said, casting a sideways glance at Anya and hoping she wouldn't say anything to spoil the moment.
Thankfully, Ms. Jenkins stayed silent. Dawn took up the cause, "Yeah Mom, you have nothing to worry about. We're going to take care of everything. Like, I'll cook, because we don't want Buffy poisoning you," Dawn said.
Joyce laughed at that. "Now, Dawn, you sister isn't that bad...oh, what am I saying? Sweetie, you're right. I want you to cook."
"Hey..." Buffy protested. "I can cook!"
"You burned that muffin you tried to heat up in the microwave last week at the Magic Box," Anya said acerbically. "The very same microwave, that never got anything warm enough for us before then. How did you do that, Buffy?"
"This is so unfair, you have one or two-"
"Or 50," Willow interrupted Buffy, sotto voce.
"-mishaps in the kitchen, and you're unfairly branded a bad cook," Buffy finished with a pout.
Joyce moved to where the punch bowl was, and took the glass offered to her by Anya. "Well, if everyone's done commenting on my daughter's culinary skills, I would like to make a toast."
The Scoobies all got glasses of punch themselves, as Joyce raised her glass. "To family and friends. On account of I'm blessed with an abundance of both."
"Family and friends!" the Scooby gang responded.
TBC...
