Disclaimer. As before, if you recognize it, someone else owns it. If not it's mine…All mine!.
Chapter Thirteen.
Paris.
Buffy beamed at him. "You already know the answer, but I'll be repeat-o girl if you want. …. Yes,…. I will."
He placed the 18 carat white gold diamond solitaire ring on her finger. It fitted perfectly.
Buffy looked at Dan, puzzled. "I thought this wasn't going to be ready until Monday?"
"It's amazing the people that Emile knows, and the influence he has." Said Dan.
"Was this your plan all along?" She asked.
Dan grimaced. "Originally, yes; but when I saw you looking in the window yesterday, I decided to roll with the punches, as it were."
Her brow wrinkled. "I did spoil your plan then. Sorry." She paused. "You know the answer would still have been the same. Don't you?"
"I know." He said.
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Oxford.
"Why all the interest in the British Museum, all of a sudden?" Asked Josh. "I've only been there once on a school trip, and I have to say it was particularly boring. The Science Museum was more to my taste."
"I just. … I sorta know someone who used to work there." Said Dawn, guardedly. I was wondering if they might have known each other."
There was a short pause as Josh waited for her to fill him in. When she didn't, he asked. "A name would be good."
"Oh, right, sorry. Rupert Giles." She said.
"Not a name I know." He said. "I could ask my dad, he might know. How do you know this Rupert Giles, anyway?"
"Friend of the family. …. Actually, more like a mentor,. … Well. … Sorta, father figure, really. …..Not in any weird kinda way though." She said, babbling slightly.
"Hey, I'm not judging." He said. "Come on let's finish here and get to the club before it gets too crowded."
He called the waitress over and the bill was paid. Stepping out into the dark side street Dawn pulled her coat around her shoulders.
Hey hadn't walked more than a few hundred yards when two people in hooded sweat tops stepped out of the shadows and confronted them.
"Crap." Said Dawn. Quickly glancing behind her, she saw two more cross from an alley behind them.
"Oh, shit." Said Josh, scanning the gang of four. "Muggers."
"I hope that's all they are." Said Dawn, a worried look forming on her face.
Josh shot her a puzzled look, then turned his attention back to the gang. "What do you want?" He asked, calmly.
The nearest one spoke, to Dawn's relief, at least they seemed human.
"Phones. Money, cards, bag. Now!" He said, holding out a gloved hand. There was menace in the voice, though they still couldn't see his face.
Dawn moved slightly ahead of Josh as the two who had come from behind came around to form a semi circle, trapping them against the wall of a garage.
"And if we say no, or we haven't got any." Said Josh, his voice still calm and even.
A knife appeared in the other hand of the spokesman. Its blade glinted in the streetlight.
"Then I take a fuckin' piece of you, instead. Now, hand 'em over." There was tension growing from the man. The others took a step closer.
"Let the nice determined people have what they want Josh." Dawn deadpanned.
"Oh sweet; a fuckin' Yank. I bet you're well bling 'aint ya. You lot always are." Said the knife wielder.
"Not really, I left the family jewels at home tonight." Said Dawn, sarcastically.
"Smart arse! Give me the bag." Demanded the knife wielder.
Dawn slipped her bag off her shoulder and slowly held it out towards the knife man. As he reached out to take it she let go and his automatic reaction to grab for it came into play. As he followed the bag down, his eyes were briefly taken off her.
She struck quickly, grabbing the top of the wrist holding the knife with her left hand, she twisted outwards, the kote gaeshi causing him pain and pulling him off balance. Her right foot lashed out at the same time catching him in the groin area. He grunted in pain as he let go of the knife and curled up on the floor. His crew weren't ready for this reaction, if any threat had come, they had expected a move from Josh.
Josh hadn't expected this either. He recovered from his surprise quicker than the attackers though, and mounted his own assault upon the two nearest him. He landed a good punch to the jaw of the first one and the mans head snapped to one side as he reeled off, falling over. The second pushed forward roughly and got in a punch of his own before Josh could recover. Josh took the punch to the ribs and grunted as it hit. He pushed back and the two of them fell to the ground and began rolling around, each trying to gain the upper hand.
Dawn kicked the knife away under a car as the fourth member discovered he had legs and ran, his hood falling back as he took off. Josh's first strike was getting up and about to retaliate when Dawn stepped between him and the struggling pair on the floor.
"Y'know. Two against one isn't very fair." She said.
That got his attention. He charged at her. She stood her ground until the last moment and sidestepped slightly, bringing her straightened forearm up under his chin. She flipped him off his feet using his own momentum. Landing heavily on his back he gasped as the air escaped from his lungs. The stiletto heel of her boot pressed hard against the side of his neck as he tried to get up.
"Friendly advice. Stay down." She said, menacingly.
Josh had gained the upper hand and had rolled his opponent into an arm lock and pinned him down.
"You Ok Dawn." He called out over his shoulder. Then he noticed her foot on the mans neck and the knife wielder crawling around clutching his privates. "Where's the other one?" He asked.
"He didn't wanna mess with a Summers." She said, candidly. "He ran."
"Oh." Was all Josh said.
Knife wielder struggled awkwardly to his feet. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't cut you up." He growled. Staggering slightly he pulled a flick knife from his back pocket and it clicked open.
"Coz it's wrong?" Asked Dawn, casually, her heel still hard against the other gang members neck.
"He gave a startled gasp of annoyance. "I got a knife. I'm gonna fuckin' gut yer, an' all yer do is make smart arse comments?" He said.
"You call that a knife." Said an Australian accent from the shadows. Hayley and Michelle stepped out into the light.
Flick knife turned to face the newcomers. "I'll fuckin' 'ave you an' all."
Hayley glanced at Michelle. "He doesn't play the game well, does he?"
Dawn snorted. Michelle grinned and shook her head. Josh looked on in surprise.
"Okay, I'll try again." She said. "You call that a knife." She repeated. Josh snorted a laugh as he caught on.
"Yeah, it's a knife. What you gonna fuckin' do about it?" Said the man, brandishing the knife.
Hayley beamed. "That's better!. Now we can play." She paused. "Nah! That's not a knife. …… This is a knife." She added, pulling out a large Bowie knife from its sheath under her jacket.
Hayley advanced predatorily towards him twirling the blade. Flick knife blanched and fell back to his knees in shock, dropping the weapon in the process.
"I always wanted to do that." She grinned. "See, told you 'Chelle. Size matters!" .
Josh pulled his captor up roughly, still keeping the arm lock in place. He gave Hayley a questioning look. "Are you sure your name's Macdonald, and not Dundee?" He asked.
Michelle giggled, Hayley smiled, pulled out her phone and called the police.
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Berlin.
Mike Royce checked his disguise in the mirrored walls of the hotel lift. "Okay, all set. Lets go Opera!" He told himself.
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Felicja pulled the shawl around her shoulders and clutched her evening bag as the taxi pulled up. She opened the door to see Ron's face smiling at her from within.
"Good evening, Felicja." He said. "You look lovely." There was still a general hoarseness to his voice, though not as much as he had been putting on previously.
"Thank you." She said. "You look quite dashing yourself."
They spent the journey discussing the opera they were about to see. Royce was getting the impression that she would want to take their supposed relationship further this evening. Care had to be taken. He needed to be at a public telephone by eleven a.m tomorrow.
The dark coloured Skoda that followed them at a distance contained two occupants. One was Brozny, the cleaner from the airport. The other was thick set man with beady eyes and an ugly scar running down the left side of his face. He was muscle, there to keep the situation from getting out of hand and not let on what he knew. That was made easier by the fact that he was also mute.
Their instructions were clear. Watch the woman. Make sure she was Dedika Kostava, and wait until Utcha arrived on Sunday.
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The couple left the opera at ten and headed for the theatre bar for a drink. Royce scanned the room for a suitable seat as they entered. He found the perfect spot. He could watch the accesses and see all of the room. He wasn't expecting trouble, it was just habit.
After the first drink there was a lull in the conversation. Felicja asked the first leading question.
"Where do we go from here?"
"How do you mean?" Asked Royce.
"Please, do not be coy with me Ronald. We both know where this is leading." She said.
Royce decided to take the opportunity to bring some home truths to the situation. This was the point he'd been waiting for. Now to make the break.
"Ah. Yes; the agency. Us." He said. "Tell me; just how did you convince them that you were Polish? Your accent's all over the place, and you cook ethnic food from Georgia. I don't think you're who you say you are. What are you running from? Who's after you? Is Felicja Zabrzeski even your real name?"
Her eyes dropped to stare at the table. She'd been caught out. Her mind raced. Wait, how had he known? Could he be a spy, working for Utcha? No, too English, even Utcha's long arms couldn't reach there. She raised her eyes to meet his.
"How did you guess? You're a salesman from England." She said, slightly suspicious.
Royce's training kicked in. Lying was second nature to him. He looked her straight in the eye.
"One of my clients in London is from that region. I've had several meetings with him, and his wife has cooked the occasional meal." He said.
"Oh. I see. Does it matter to you?" She asked.
"Yes it does. Whatever it is you're running from, I don't need that kind of hassle. Sooner or later it will catch up with you."
"Would it help if you knew how unhappy I've been, the danger. I really do need to get away from them." She said, pleading her case.
"If it's that bad I don't think I want to." He said. He wasn't getting involved in her problems; he had enough of his own to deal with.
At that moment a man walked into the bar. It was the thick set muscle with the scar that had been with Brozny earlier. He'd been sent in to check if the pair were still in there. He pulled a stool to the bar and silently ordered a drink. Royce caught him in his peripheral vision. Focusing on the man briefly, he assessed the possible threat.
Felicja noticed his glance and looked in the same direction. Spotting the man she visibly blanched.
Royce caught it and asked. "You know him?"
She nodded and gave him a sheepish look. "He works for Utcha Kostava, my, ….er….. Husband."
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Oxford.
The three muggers sat cuffed in the back of the police car. The two officers were getting the information from the witnesses. They were trying to persuade the group to come to the station now so that their statements could be made.
"We were on a date. We are supposed to be going clubbing." Said Dawn. "I'm not spending the rest of my Saturday evening writing a report. I'll send one in or come tomorrow. Your choice." She said firmly to the officer. The policewoman was taken aback slightly, she wasn't used to the public giving her instructions.
"I'm sorry, you don't have a choice Miss Summers. You are a witness and we have to….."
The WPC's demands faltered as Dawn pulled her phone out of her bag and dialled a number. As it answered she turned away from the officer and spoke quietly to the person on the other end. When she turned back, there was a crackle from the officers two way radio. The WPC answered it, and reddened at the instruction that was given to her.
"Er. Apparently the statements from your group will be accepted as soon as you can send them in Miss Summers." Said the puzzled officer. "Mr Hartnell's too." She added.
"Thank you, officer. Now, can we go?" Asked Dawn.
The WPC nodded and stood to one side as the four slipped away from the lights of the police cars and made their way to where Josh's car was parked.
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Berlin.
Felicja's face was furrowed with worry and fear. She wrung her hands as her mind searched for a way out.
Royce's brain raced too; though his face didn't show it. He didn't need a confrontation in such a public place. They needed to get away somewhere quieter. Right now if she was focussing on the threat to herself, he'd get away with almost anything and she might not be suspicious.
"Ok." He said quietly. "Get up and go to the loo. If he follows you, I'll follow him. Don't run. Don't panic. Can you do that?"
She nodded. "What are you going to do?" She asked.
"Depends on what he does. Now, go. You'll be alright." He said.
She got up and walked casually toward the rear of the bar where the restrooms were. Once she'd disappeared through the connecting door the muscle made a move to follow her. He didn't even check behind him as he made his way into the corridor, so intent was his purpose of not losing sight of his quarry.
Royce collected a steak knife and a napkin from the cutlery table as he passed and slipped through the door behind scar face, following quietly. There was an exit to the rear alley from this corridor and his first reaction was to lumber toward the door to check if the woman had gone through it. As he opened the door Royce caught up quickly, silently, and plunged the wrapped knife into the man's kidneys, twisted and pulled it out. There was no scream from the man, just a gasp as the pain registered within his brain. A hand went to the site of the attack and he turned to face his attacker, stumbling backwards into the alley in shock. Just what Royce wanted. A slash with the knife caught the man across the throat and the other hand went automatically to that. Finally the knife was pushed between the ribs into his heart and the man fell to the floor, dead.
Royce stepped outside, reached inside the mans jacket and removed his wallet. Then he returned inside, calmly closed the door and checked for signs of blood on himself and the corridor. There was none. Good, not bad for making it look like an amateur attempt. The police would probably think it was a mugging gone wrong.
He went to the ladies restroom and tapped on the door.
"Felicja. Are you alright?" He asked.
The door opened and a worried Felicja peered around it.
"Well, did he follow?" She asked.
"No, just after you left a rather large lady came in and they left together. I don't think he could have been who you said he was, my dear." He said.
A puzzled look came over her face. "I was so sure." She whispered.
"Don't worry about it." He said, gently. "Come on let's get you home. We can discuss it all there."
She nodded and they left in silence. Outside he hailed a taxi, noting the dark coloured Skoda with a single occupant parked across the road, it's diesel engine ticking over. If that was scar face's accomplice it would be several minutes before he realised that he wasn't coming out and go to look for him. It might give them a ten minute lead.
Inside the taxi Royce gave her address as the destination. Chances were that the accomplice knew where Felicja lived and would go there first. He doubted that the police would be called until a member of the public notified them about the body. As Felicja was running a false identity, the others probably were too. As the car turned at roundabouts he cautiously checked for the other car following. Nothing. Good, now to get information out of Felicja.
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Paris.
It was getting late. The skating session had been followed by a meal and a walk along the Seine to the Eiffel Tower. It was floodlit and the area was busy with souvenir vendors and burger bars plying their trade to the tourists. Buffy held her left hand up to the lights and watched the sparkles from her solitaire dance on the pavement. Some people gave them a puzzled look as they passed the couple with ice skates slung over their shoulders.
"You know we're getting weird looks, don't you." Said Buffy; still examining her personal glitter ball light show.
"Yes, but I don't care." Said Dan "It's probably because of these." He added, tapping the boots. He pointed to the tower. "Up there on the first platform, they have an open air ice rink in the winter. They probably think we're a little late. We could come again when it's open if you want."
"You know my history with towers." She said.
"Good point." He said. "But I promise I won't allow you to jump off. How's that?" He asked.
"I'll consider it." She said.
"How about some more pictures for your office wall." Said Dan drawing her thoughts away from bad memories.
Dan got her to pose in front of the tower and used the camera on his phone to take a couple of snaps, the ring on prominent display. A passing Jewish couple saw them and offered to take one of them both with the phone. Dan immediately responding in Hebrew, using his new gift to add yet another language to his memory.
Buffy realised that she'd turned off her phone before they went out and turned it on. Several messages were indicated on the display so they sat on a bench under the tower whilst she collected her voicemail.
There was one from Giles saying his day with his daughter had gone well. One from David Peterson informing her of the location spell Andrea had placed upon one Henri Lefevre, and the fact that they were tracking his movements. Several from other watchers who said they would email her, not to be concerned there was nothing important, and one from Ed Clewley. Call him. So she did.
"I can't believe it." Said Dan, after the death of his colleagues was revealed. "Why didn't the Guv'nor tell us yesterday." He added.
Buffy didn't know what to say to placate him.
"Sometimes…….Sometimes not telling someone something is better than being all blunt about it." She said. "If he'd told us yesterday what would you have wanted to do?"
"Get home. See if there was anything I could do to help." He said.
"Exactly." She said. "And just what could you have done."
"Not much." He admitted. He thought for a moment. "There's something we do in a situation like this. A sort of tradition. You want to help me." He asked
"Yeah, sure. What is it."
"We toast our fallen comrades. With a beer." He said. "Usually a fair quantity of beer."
"Ok. But after last night, not too much." She said. "Unless you're up for a little hangover healing again in the morning. Beer and Buffy equals badness."
"No. I promise we'll keep it simple. I just need to… you know …. pay my respects. Anyway, we could go home tomorrow now the guv'nor says it's all clear." He said.
They hailed a taxi and headed for the George IV on the Champs Elysees, not far from the hotel.
"Why here?" Asked Buffy, stepping inside the bar.
"Because they have British beer." Dan replied.
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Oxford.
After they left Michelle and Hayley, Dawn and Josh cruised through the streets of Oxford in his car. Josh was deep in thought at the possibility that there was more, much more to Dawn than had first been apparent.
"No, I'm sorry I can't not ask questions." He said, suddenly. "I think I've got too many now, and even my capacious brain is getting full. Would you mind if we skipped the club and went somewhere we can talk, get coffee or something."
"Are you freaking out?" Asked Dawn, a little worried.
"No. Call me nosey, but unless you're all MI5 or something, I can't work it out. You're American. Hayley's an Aussie, Diane's Welsh, and Michelle's English." He said.
"Ok, take me home, we'll have coffee there. Maybe I can throw some light on it all. She said.
He took a left turn and accelerated away in the direction of her house.
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Fifteen minutes later they were seated in the large kitchen of the Victorian house the four girls shared. Dawn stared down at her coffee and spoke first. "What do you remember about your grandfather?"
"Not too much, really. Why, what does this have to do with him?" Said Josh.
"Rupert Giles. He was the curator of the British Museum, before he came to Sunnydale ten years ago. They had something in common, other than the museum. Have you ever heard of an organisation called 'The Watchers Council'….."
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Berlin.
Their journey was spent in silence. On arriving at her apartment Royce quickly paid for the cab and got them both inside, surreptitiously checking as he went for any signs of being followed. Seeing none, he relaxed a little, his determination to find out the truth about the woman at the forefront of his thoughts. As she closed the door, he began the questioning.
"Alright, tell me what's going on please." He said, calmly. "Who are you exactly?"
Crossing to the cabinet, she pulled out the two shot glasses and bottle from the previous night.
"It really isn't important. Nothing at all. Really." She said, a sad look on her face.
"You said that you thought that man worked for your husband. That makes you married in my book, and I'm not into bigamy." He said, bluntly.
She had poured the two glasses by this time and she came over to him and offered one to him. He took it and sat on the sofa, but didn't drink. She paced and took a sip of her drink.
"Yes. I am married. My real name is Dedika Kostava, but I have separated from my husband because of his lifestyle. He is not a nice man. He is the head of a Mafiya group in Georgia. Originally they were partisans against our Russian oppressors. He has done many things in recent years to consolidate his power, and he frightens me. I cannot go back to him; I need to leave here; to go to England where I can be safe. ….. Please take me Ronald." She pleaded, tears forming in her eyes.
"I take it your husband didn't agree to this separation." Said Royce, not letting her watery eyes get to him.
"No, he is very…… forceful….I think is the word. He would never let me go willingly. I had to run away and change my name to hide from his wrath." She said.
Royce stood and shook his head. Placing his glass on the table he made to leave.
"Where are you going?" She asked, slight fear in her voice.
"This isn't something that I need." Said Royce. "I came looking for companionship and comfort, not a mess like this, I don't have the stomach for all this cloak and dagger stuff. I sell stationery." Part of what he said was true, just the salesman pitch was not.
But, I …." Said Dedika. Trying to placate him. She moved towards him, her arms open, but he pushed them aside.
"I need to leave, now." He said.
He crossed to the door and opened it to leave. As he did, the door forced inwards suddenly catching him off guard and he fell backwards in a heap. As he tried to get up he heard the sound of a trigger being cocked and the cold point of a pistol against the side of his head. He swallowed hard. Dedika let out a stifled scream……
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Paris.
Dan sat nursing the freshly poured pint of beer in his hands. He raised the glass and looked at Buffy.
"To absent friends. Geoff and Andy."
"To Geoff and Andy." She said, raising her own.
They took a long drink from their glasses. Buffy grimaced slightly at the taste of the beer.
"Don't like it?" Asked Dan. "It's something of an acquired taste." He added.
"No, just remembering the last time I had beer in college, although this does taste different." Said Buffy. She paused, thinking; then raised her own glass again. "To Kirsty, Shona and Susie. May you be at peace."
Dan nodded his approval and intoned the same comment. They drank.
"Tell me about them; Geoff and Andy, I know they were your friends, and I only met them briefly. What were they like?" She asked.
""Andy was, well Andy. Always had a joke ready to lighten the situation, some of them not too clean though, wouldn't let you down though. Geoff was Mr Practical, .. family….. Oh, shit, poor Hillary and the kids." His glass bumped down on the bar and he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair.
Buffy gave him a worried look. "You ok?"
His eyes met hers. "It's bloody ironic isn't it." He said. "I was only thinking this morning, who I would ask to be best man, and I came down on the side of Geoff, because Andy might make too many jokes, and piss someone off."
Buffy smiled weakly at him, acknowledging his anguish. They sat silently for a few moments with their thoughts. Dan suddenly picked up his glass, downed the contents and stood up.
"Come on. Drink up. We're going home." He said.
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Berlin
Brozny held the gun shakily against Royce's head. "You ..kill .. Dürst." He said, angrily, in heavily accented English.
Royce went into an act that he'd used before when faced with a situation like this. The man was nervous of the gun in his hand and probably wouldn't shoot, but he was nervous, so all bets were off. Being cool, calm and collected wasn't the best option. He had to take him down, quickly before there was bloodshed. His face screwed up and a look of fear passed over his features.
"No, no, no. I-I-I don't know what you mean, Wh-who are you? My name is Ronald J-James. I'm from England. I'm on holiday a-and I only went to the opera with this l-lady tonight. Why are you doing this?" He whimpered, babbling his speech and cowering down.
He needed to throw the man off, make him uncertain that he had the right man, so that he'd make a mistake, leave an opening. It worked. Brozny faltered as Dedika's crying became more manic. His eyes left Royce to look in her direction for a moment. He shouted in Russian at her. "Shut the fuck up, woman!"
Royce didn't need another opportunity. His left hand lashed out and knocked the wrist of the hand that held the gun, pushing it away from his head. His other fist shot upwards catching Brozny in the throat. His windpipe cracked, Brozny choked and collapsed, the gun clattered to the floor as Royce jumped up and followed through with a kick to the ribs. Brozny rolled with the kick and tried to get to his feet, gasping for air and grasping for the gun at the same time. Royce dived on him and the pair hit the hallway door slamming it shut again, as they came up Royce managed to get his hands around Brozny's head. When the man tried to struggle free there was a 'snick' as the mans neck snapped and Brozny crumpled to the floor.
Royce blew out a breath of relief and saw Dedika collapse to her knees as she realised what had happened.
"What did you do?! What did you do?!" Her face was a mixture of astonishment, fear and shock.
"Oh, so you'd have preferred it if he'd shot me then?" Quipped Royce, forgetting to speak with the slight hoarseness in his voice for a moment.
Dedika looked at him puzzled. "You killed him? How?…. What has happened to your voice. …. Who are you?….. That's not the voice I remember from our…….." The questions flooded out.
Her hands flew to he mouth to stem her panicked babble. Royce moved towards her. She backed away bumping into the drinks cabinet.
"It's alright Dedika, I'm not going to hurt you." He said, gently. The plan formed in his head and the lie came out fluently. "I work for Interpol. They asked me to get to know you so that we could stop your husband's activities spreading into Germany. It looks a though things have gone a bit pear shaped though now. The element of surprise has gone."
She relaxed slightly at his explanation and he closed the distance between them. She curled into his arms and sobbed. "Protect me. Please." She whispered.
He held her close, cuddling her. "I will. I'll make it all better. No more hurt." He said. His hands rubbed her back gently comforting her. Slowly they travelled upwards and around her neck massaging as they went. They reached a point where Dedika suddenly realised what was happening. Shock spread over her features as she tried to pull away. Too late. There was another short 'snick' as his strong grip snapped her neck. "Sorry luv. No witnesses." He murmured, as he let her limp body slip from his grasp.
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Oxford.
Dawn was giving Josh careful answers to his questions. She didn't want to scare him away by blurting out about demons and vamps. Ok, he'd proved he could react to a situation and wouldn't leave someone in the lurch, but demons were a different thing than a gang of muggers.
"So, you're suggesting that my grandpa was a member of this Watchers Council and you reckon I was supposed to be the next member of my family to be trained in their ways. How come I've never heard of them then?" Asked Josh.
"Probably because your grandfather died when you were still young, and coz their headquarters in London got blown up a couple of years ago by some bad guys." Said Dawn.
"You're a member of this organisation then, I take it." He asked.
"God, no." She paused. Trying to tell him without going too far. "We're the same; but different. We stop the bad guys, but we try to do it better. The way Travers treated my sister, the Cruciamentum, and Faith by trying to kill her, which was really Buffy anyway, coz of the body swap spell." She was beginning to babble.
"Stop." He said. "The Crucia-what? Killing! Spell!" He chuckled. "Pull the other one Dawn. I doubt my grandfather was mixed up in anything like that. He wasn't the sort of person that'd want to kill anyone from what I remember. This is a joke, isn't it. To throw me off the scent."
"Ok. Let's try another way." Said Dawn. "Have you ever heard the phrases 'Chosen One', or 'Potential', or 'The Slayer'?"
Josh's look changed. "Oh, shit. Yes, I've read about those before." He said.
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Paris.
Jean Paul attracted the attention of the couple as they entered the reception. "M'sieur Carter, Mam'selle Summers, a moment please, I have a message for you."
They made their way to the concierge and he lowered his voice as he told them of the call he had received from Steve Hughes enquiring of Dan's whereabouts.
"Of course we denied having knowledge of your visit, but Monsieur Bertrand has the thoughts that he did not believe us. He said he was a colleague, I hope we made the correct decision."
"You did well Jean Paul. Thanks. We'll deal with it from here." Said Dan.
They left the reception and headed for their suite. When they were alone Dan made the call.
"Steve. It's Danny. How are you mate?"
"Danny, about bloody time. We're on our way to Ashford. Tony and me are coming to look for you. Where are you?"
"Turn around. Go back home. I'll be back tomorrow. I heard about Andy and Geoff."
"So Clewley did tell you then. You in Paris? You're going to have to find a better place to hide you know."
Dan laughed. "Ok, look just go home, I'll see you soon. I've got some news of my own to tell you all as soon as we've dealt with this lot.
"What's her name? Is it that blonde everyone says they've seen you with? Come on, spill."
"Not now Steve. See you soon. Bye." Said Dan, hanging up. He grinned at Buffy.
"My mates were only on their way over here to rescue me. God knows what they think I need rescuing from." He said.
Buffy matched his grin. "Nah, me neither."
He pulled her close and they kissed, which became a groping session. Soon after that, there was a trail of divested clothing leading to the bedroom.
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Oxford.
Josh told Dawn what he remembered of his grandfather's charge.
"When I was eleven a girl came to stay with my grandparents. I only met her the once. Her name was Louise and they told me that she was an orphan and that they were looking after her for a while for the Fostering Association. I think she was about thirteen, I know she was older than me. She must have been there about nine months before my grandfather died, and I didn't see her again after that. I remember a couple of people coming to see my grandma after he died and they took a lot of his books away with them. They missed one, and I found it. I didn't tell anyone at the time because I thought I'd get into trouble for it. It was in his handwriting and it was about Louise and the fact that she was a Potential Slayer. I was only eleven, I didn't have a clue what it meant, but I kept it. I've still got it; if you want to take a look."
"Definitely. Where is it?" Asked Dawn.
"In my rooms at the college. I'll bring it over in the morning."
"Great, it's a date. Come for breakfast." Said Dawn.
"See, second date." He said, grinning. "Which brings me to another set of questions…….What's a Slayer? What's a Potential? And are you one?"
Dawn raised an eyebrow. "It's late. Bring the book in the morning and we'll talk about it then."
End of Chapter Thirteen.