Chapter 23
Buffy sat with the list of recovered bodies in her hand. How could she have forgotten that Hank was in that building?
John walked into Giles' office intending to find Giles but finding Buffy in Giles' chair instead. "Buffy what's wrong?" he asked noticing the tears on her face.
"He was a terrible father and he was a skirt chaser and a workaholic and he didn't take care of my mom, but he was still my dad."
"Buffy?" John reached out and took the paper she was holding and read it. It was the list of recovered bodies from the Council building and there, about halfway down was the cause of her tears. Hank Summers was on the list. "Oh honey." John picked her up, sat down and put her on his lap. There was nothing he could say because everything she had said was true.
"I didn't want him dead! I just wanted him to understand and to not be a jerk." At this point Buffy completely broke down. John rocked her and rubbed her back. It took a while for the storm to pass but eventually Buffy was cried out. John picked her up and carried her over to the couch. There was a throw blanket on the back that he wrapped around her as he settled both of them on the couch. What he had wanted to talk to Giles about could wait, right now Buffy needed him.
When Willow poked her head in the office, John held his finger to his lips and gestured to the paper on Giles' desk. Willow went to the desk and picked up the paper. Willow bit her lip and took the paper with her. The others would need to know about this.
Willow walked down the hall and into the parlor. They had finally cleared out all of the items that the demon had transported from the Council vault and it was back to being used as a gathering and relaxing place for the Sunnydale crew. There was a corkboard on one wall that they used to post non-urgent messages and pictures and the like. She pinned the list to the board, that way anyone who wanted could look at it. After the lecture that Elizabeth had read her, she didn't think that this was something she should tell everyone but she still thought that they should be aware of the information. She knew that most of the people still here would read the list, if only to see who was on it and if there were any young girls found. They would see Hank's name and let Buffy bring it up if she wanted. At the very least they wouldn't be all cheerful around her and that was probably for the best. Willow didn't think Buffy could handle cheerful right now.
"Willow, could you and Tara teach Dawn about healing potions and stuff?" Sam asked as he hurried up to her. "The college cancelled the first aid course I signed her up for."
"Why did they do that?" Willow asked grateful for another subject to turn her mind to.
"Too many people dropped out of the course. Quite a few of the smaller classes of electives are being dropped and some of the smaller required courses are being combined next term. People are starting to leave the campus." Sam sighed, "I don't think it will be long before they start leaving in droves. As long as the hellmouth stays open, even just a little, even regular people are going to be feeling it."
"You're probably right. Sam?" Willow tried to control Sam's fall to the ground as he screamed, but he was far too large and it was too sudden for her to do much. The fact that he was clutching his head was the clue she needed to figure out that he was having a vision.
Sam pulled out his cell phone as soon as the vision let up enough for him to move. "Dean, Boston airport, customs, fifteen year old girl, blond hair, green eyes, blue jeans, hiking boots, blue sweater with a rose bush on the front, get to her now, Harbringers." He closed the cell phone and winced up at Willow who was hovering over him. "Got anything to kill a vision headache?"
Willow smiled and helped him off the floor and down to the kitchen where Tara quickly got him some water and heavy duty painkillers.
Dean shut his cell phone and swore. "Spike go meet with Mr. Howell inside, Xander and I have to go to the airport there's a Potential in danger over there." Spike nodded and jumped out of the Impala, thankful that there were so many underground and covered parking garages in Boston. Dean sped off toward the airport.
"Who are we looking for, where is she and who is after her as if I couldn't guess?" Xander said as Dean did his best to get quickly through the early morning traffic without attracting official attention.
"Sam said she was a fifteen year old blond with green eyes, hiking boots, blue jeans and a blue sweater with a rose bush on the front. She's in or going to be in the customs area of the Boston airport and of course the Harbringers are after her." Dean grimaced. How were they going to get guns into the airport? Duh, dude, you've been working with these goody goodies too long. "Xander, pull out the wood box out of the glove box."
Xander followed the instructions to find that the little box was full of fake ids. "Well, well what do we have here? You do know that it's illegal to have these ids don't you Mr. Winchester?" Xander teased in a sing song voice.
"Yes I do Mr. Smartass. Give me one that'll get us into the airport with guns, FBI or something like that. Federal is always better in this kind of situation, remember we're not going to be dealing with Sunnydale cops out here. These guys are generally competent professionals."
"So how do we get my weapons in there?" Xander asked.
"Simple, you won't be carrying a gun. Take a bag and fill it with some stakes that stone knife, that sort of thing, stuff that will get through the metal detectors and take your antiquities id with you, the one that Sam made for you. That will show you have reason to by carrying antiques." Dean said, pulling into the parking lot closest to the doors of the airport. "Thank goodness we already dressed up for that auction we don't have time to change now."
Getting out of the car, Xander quickly unloaded everything off of his person that could get him into trouble with security and loaded up a gym bag with all of the weapons that he could find that would qualify as an antique. It turned out that they had quite a few but he only took the ones that would be useful against a Harbringer. There was no sense in bringing anything else. Then he followed Dean into the airport. By not being to close together, they managed to get through security with ease, although Xander had a much harder time of it. The explanation that he was bringing some antiques to be looked at by an appraiser had made sense to the guard and that was all that Xander cared about.
They found her going through customs in the company of an elderly man. They didn't know who he was, but they guessed that he was her Watcher. It didn't help that as soon as the two stepped out of sight of the custom agents and the line of people waiting to get through that the elderly man was grabbed and pulled into a doorway. If Dean and Xander hadn't been watching and waiting for them, they wouldn't have seen the old man taken. "Get the girl!" Dean yelled at Xander and went after the old man.
Xander grabbed the girl and pulled her away despite her struggles. "I'm not with the Harbringers!" Xander whispered/shouted in her ear. "Our seer sent us to make sure they didn't get you! He didn't say anything about the old man but Dean will do his best to get him back. Are you all right?"
Sarah stopped struggling when he told her he'd been sent by a seer. Her Watcher had told her that Buffy Summers had recently begun working with a seer and that seer had prevented the murder of another Potential and her Watcher. Could this have been how that had happened? Some strangers just showing up to save them? How she wished now that she had some of the Slayer's powers, at least the ability to tell if this man was a demon or not!
Xander sighed in relief as the girl relaxed. The last thing he needed was for a security guard to think he was kidnapping the poor girl. "Ok, lets find us a nice loud and very public spot to have this conversation." He said. The girl looked at him in surprise. "What did you think I was going to carry you off and have my wicked way with you? Dean would kill me and then have one of the witches, Willow or Dawn probably or maybe all of them resurrect or maybe zombiefy me so the others could have a chance to bludgeon me into tiny pieces. Nope, there is no way I could do that and get away with it and the only thing Spike would do is hurt himself laughing at me and to top it all off, you're way too young for my tastes, so I guess we'll just go where the Harbringers won't go after you and wait for Dean. What do you think about that?" Xander asked as he led the new Potential off to a group of chairs right next to a very busy corridor.
"My name is Xander and I work with Buffy Summers in Sunnydale normally. Right now, Dean, Spike and I are off on a wild weapon chase and Sam, that's Dean's brother and one of our two seers, sent us here to make sure that you didn't end up Harbringer chow. What about you?" Xander asked.
"My name is Sarah, I'm fifteen and a Potential Slayer. The man who was grabbed is my Watcher. We were headed for London but," Sarah said.
Xander interrupted her. "Yeah, we saw the news coverage about the bombing. We also got a delivery from one of the, well I'm not sure you could call her a survivor, but she made it through the bombing itself. She died soon after though. She used magic and sent us the contents of one of the vaults over at the Council's headquarters. There was a lot of stuff in there that really shouldn't get into the wrong hands."
Just then Dean came marching up. "Let's go." He said shortly, obviously upset over something. Xander stood up and tugged Sarah to her feet. They silently followed him out to the Impala and Xander waited until they were back on the road before asking.
"He's dead, isn't he?"
"Yeah, and Caleb too," Dean shuddered at the memory of Caleb's body laughing at him through a slit throat. The dead man had not only been a friend for years, he had been a mentor and honorary uncle nearly all of his life. This news was going to hit his family hard. "When we get back to the auction house, I'm going to call home and have Dawn come out here and pick up me and the girl. I need to tell Dad and Sam myself. Do you think you and Spike can stay here by yourselves for a while?"
"No problem."
Spike was bored. He knew that this was important but there was only so much time without violence that he could take. Maybe he could talk Xander into playing bait on a quick Patrol around Boston tonight? If nothing else he could take his nummy treat out to a bar and defend him from the demon chicks that hit on him. Spike shook himself out of his daydream of beating up a Roklak demoness over Xander's prone body when Mr. Howell came over to him.
"There are five possibilities I've managed to find record of. There are three I've tracked down. One is here at the auction and one is in a private collection in San Francisco,"
"It's not the one in San Francisco." Spike interrupted calmly. He knew he needed to keep up the gentleman persona that Mr. Howell was seeing, but it made him want to kill something just that much more. It reminded him too much of William. "One of our Witches narrowed it down to the East Coast area."
Mr. Howell didn't know what to say to that but he supposed it was as normal as anything else in their line of work. It would make his efforts to track the gun down easier. "The last is in a collection in one of the museums in New York City. It isn't on display, but I've managed to get you a look at that Colt tomorrow. I've also managed to get an early viewing of the Colt here, Mr. LaSainger. If you'll come this way?"
Spike nodded and followed the broker to a smaller room where a display had been set up. The Colt rested in a wooden case lined with velvet and there were spaces for bullets to rest. So far so good, Spike thought to himself. He pulled out a pair of granny glasses and slid them on his face. He hated them, but the only way for him to read without them was to change and he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. Freaking out the people who were helping them would be fun, but more trouble than it was worth. He'd have more than just a couple of pissed off Hunters on his ass if he screwed this up on purpose, especially over his vanity.
He carefully examined the Colt, deliberately ignoring the pounding heartbeats of the humans standing behind the display. He knew that if this was the gun he was looking for they would have made an incredible sale and their excitement was going through the roof. It wouldn't make any difference though. Although the engraving wasn't in English, it wasn't Latin either. "I'm terribly sorry, lady and gentleman, but this is not the specific Colt that my employer is looking for. While it is of the same time period, the engraving is in Greek rather than Latin. I thank you for your indulgence. If you could send a copy of your catalog for future auctions to this address, my employer would be most grateful. While currently he is interested only in a specific Colt, I have seen several items today that he would most likely be interested in." Bowing shortly, he left the room with Mr. Howell in tow.
"At what time can an inspection of the museum Colt be arranged, Mr. Howell?" Spike asked.
"The earliest time would be at eleven o'clock, Mr. LaSainger. I have the name of the museum, the address, the directions from the hi-way as I do remember that Dean never could be parted with his car, the name of the director in charge of the Colt and the name of the curator of the museum. If this is the Colt you are interested in, the curator is expecting a purchase price of about two million." Mr. Howell handed over a file folder.
"That is well within what we have asked of you Mr. Howell. Thank you for the time and effort you have put into our project." Spike said. He really did appreciate the work the man had done. They had only asked him to get them into the first auction; he had done far more than that.
"I'm well aware of the work that the Winchesters do Mr. LaSainger, and I'm very glad that they are getting the backing that they deserve. I will call Dean's number with the exact time of the appointment as soon as I've arranged it." He didn't bother to mention that the little shopping spree that the three young men had gone on had cemented their reputations as serious collectors and that it had boosted his reputation as well.
Spike shook his hand and left for the parking garage, pulling out his cell phone as he did so. He hoped that Dean was done with the business of getting the Potential out of danger cause there was no way he could get a cab back to their hotel room.