When Claudia Steele finally got tired of listening to the banger cry like a little girl, she snapped his neck, dropped the body and turned to her vampire lieutenants.
"It's an hour to dawn, still," she said. "You've got time to dump him before you come back to HQ. Take care of it."
A female voice came from behind Claudia, said, "You'd better stay off of Ewing, though— go on into Chicago Avenue. There's been a big accident on Ewing, cops all over everywhere."
Claudia spun around, saw a pretty, slender, brown-haired girl standing behind her. The girl wore a lace blouse over a micro-skirt, complete with knee-high boots that sported what she thought of as "hooker heels."
"And who the hell are you?" Claudia asked.
"I'm your new best friend," the girl said. She smiled as she said it, and took a step forward. "You pretty much have Chicago under your thumb, as far as illegal ops go. I can help you control the territory, and expand— if you're willing to expand south."
Claudia laughed, shook her head, and stepped towards the other girl, reached out to grab her blouse and pull her close— but her hand bounced off of a sudden rippling in the air.
"No, you really ought to listen," the girl said. "See, you're all strong and tough, and I need that— but I've got powers of my own. I'd hate to have to use them on you, that's not a good way to convince someone to help you."
"Okay, you're a witch," Claudia said. "I got one of those on payroll already, why do I need you?"
"Well, let's see… can your witch do this?" the girl asked. She waved a hand negligently, and the body of Lazlo Brown disappeared in a flash of flame. "Or this?"
She gestured again, and the winged demon— about the size of a rhesus monkey, with a four foot wingspan— that had been diving at her turned into a butterfly.
"Huh," Claudia said, respect creeping into her voice. "Okay, your yin has some serious yang. So… expand south, huh? Where to? And why?"
"Bloomington-Normal," the girl said. "As for why— two reasons. There are two colleges there, which means it's a gold mine for drugs, and for prostitution if you organize it— all they've got is independent hookers, no organization, and most of them are seriously skanky.
"Second… there are some people there who'll try to stop you, once they know you're out here. They have the same powers as you, and they've got some people with serious experience at using those powers. They outnumber you.
"But if you go after them before they hear about you… surprise makes up for a lot. And my power makes up for a lot more.
"Shall we talk?"
"We could talk," Claudia admitted. She looked the other girl up and down, liked what she saw. "You dig girls?"
"I've been known to get sexy with the ladies," the girl admitted. She returned that long, appraising look. "And I definitely dig you."
"Solid," Claudia said. "So let's go back to my HQ, get nasty for a while, then talk about what you want to do, see what we can work out.
"I'm Claudia Steele."
"Hello Claudia," the girl said, letting her force field down, moving into Claudia's arms, caressing a breast. "I'm Amy. Amy Madison."
"Hiya, Amy," Claudia said, grabbing the girl's ass. "I got a limo parked a few blocks off— want to get crazy on the ride to HQ?"
"Very much so," Amy purred. "You know… I meant this to be strictly business, but after getting a good look at you… mixing business with pleasure seems like a great idea."
"That sounds like a plan," Claudia said. "Let's do it."
Amy followed the young renegade Slayer back to her limousine, smiling all the way.
"Mmm," Amy said a couple of hours later. She was sitting up against the headboard of Claudia's bed, nude, slightly sweaty, and feeling very content. "Claudia… that was on beyond amazing."
"That sure as hell goes both ways," Claudia said. "Or maybe you figured that out after the second time you made me scream? Or the fifth?"
"Yeah, well, it all works out," Amy said. "Didn't expect to get laid out of this deal, but I'm not complaining. Not at all!"
"So… what are you wanting to do to what people down south?" Claudia said. "And while we're at it… what the hell happened to me? You obviously know."
"Long story, both of them," Amy said. "How about we get a snack while I tell you?"
They ate a full meal, pizza from an all night place, while Amy told Claudia about Slayers, what they were supposed to be for, and her history with Willow Rosenberg and those around her.
"So these girls just go and do dangerous shit for nothing?" Claudia said. She shook her head. "Retards. You don't do anything for free."
"Yes, they are stupid," Amy said. "But… they're smart in some ways. Not as smart as they think, though— especially not Willow. She fell for my little trick, never thought about what might be behind it."
"What did you do?" Claudia asked.
Amy explained about the vampire summoning charm she'd made, and how the Scooby gang had been forced to fight some thirty vampires.
"Willow and the rest found the charm, broke it— and never figured out that the charm wasn't the point." Amy giggled, snagged another piece of pizza, and said around a mouthful, "See, that was all a distraction. I used it to get close enough to do a specialized divination on them, while they were fighting. Analyzed them for their weak link. Then I analyzed the weak link, found what would break it, and set up that spell well away from the other one.
"Their weak link breaks, they'll all fall apart. Then they'll be easier pickings for us."
"So… what did you do?" Claudia asked, looking honestly interested.
"One of them— besides Buffy, I mean— has a link with a vampire. The bad kind of link, like it was a brother or sister, or something.
"I set up a summoning spell aimed at a vampire who knows the weak link, and a compulsion to hurt them. Strong one. Hurt before killing, I should say." Amy smirked and added, "That happens, they'll all be lovey-dovey-weepy-sad, and easy pickings for a while."
"You're good," Claudia said. "So… when do we go down there?"
"In a while," Amy said. "No hurry. I'll know when the vampire gets into town, and we'll wait a week after that.
"In the meantime… I've had enough to eat. Or at least enough pizza…."
Amy pushed her plate aside… and crawled under the table.
Claudia didn't object at all.
Elaine:
So the next Sunday was Chantelle's sixteenth birthday. Whitey hadn't been gonna make a big deal of it (other than to give her presents himself, and take her to dinner wherever she wanted to go), but when he mentioned it to Kelly, she decided that he had no clue of how to handle a birthday, and took it to the household Tuesday afternoon.
Soon enough, Whitey had passed out a list of things he knew Chantelle wanted and liked, and we all got together and worked out who was getting her what. We all did our shopping over the next three days, and got her a pile of really neat gifts. (Whitey, of course, went crazy, loving her as much as he did, and suddenly having money he could afford to spend on her. He bought her a Nintendo Gamecube and a huge stack of games.)
The week mostly went well. Oh, there were two problems with tempers, but nothing horrible. Buffy had to step on my least-favorite of the newbies when Jenna went off on Vivian for learning something in kung fu class faster than Jenna did, and Buffy stepped on her hard enough that there was an icepack involved afterwards. The second thing was Felicia— she blew up over Kelly encouraging her to eat more after a long, hard training day, screamed that she didn't want more, didn't want to get fatter— then broke down crying and fled from the room.
Kelly went after her, and twenty minutes later, they came back and Felicia apologized to everyone— before turning and apologizing specifically to Kelly, who obviously hadn't been expecting that, by the pleased surprise on her face. Giles, wise man that he was, let us all accept the apology, tell her that it was all right— then seemingly forgot about it.
Only he didn't forget about it. Instead, two days later, he instituted a weigh in, and not just for Felicia— not for all of us, that would have been too obvious. No, he put it out there for Felicia, little Chelsea, to see if she was putting on weight (she needed to), Vivian for the same reasons, and Helena, who was also still sort of pudgy. Xander asked to be included, citing his own battle with keeping his lost weight gone, and Chantelle practically demanded to participate, to keep a sharp eye on her weight for the baby's sake. That made Felicia able to accept it— and when she saw that she was losing weight steadily, despite eating as much like a horse as the rest of us… she steadied down.
So Sunday morning, all was as usual— Kelly cooked breakfast, made fruit pancakes (which were pancakes topped with warm fruit pie filling instead of syrup, and several choices of fruit available), breakfast steaks and hash browns. People went their separate ways for the morning, and Rose and I got charged with keeping Chantelle distracted and out of the kitchen and the library. Not so hard, we took over the rec room in the basement and let her hammer us into the ground at pool. She taught us a lot, though, so that worked out. When Kelly called us for lunch (via an intercom system that Xander and Whitey had installed), we got still more distraction. We stepped out of the rec room into the hall, and found Vivian standing on her tiptoes some ten feet to our right— and kissing the heck out of Vincent.
They'd been constantly cuddly since his arrival, but never kissed that we knew about— and I can tell you right now, that was their first kiss— you can tell, that's all.
They broke while we were still gaping, and never noticed us, just stood there staring into each other's eyes— and we went away quietly. Upstairs, we went to the dining room, Chantelle with a slightly eager look on her face— the smell of barbecued ribs was heavy in the air.
"Oh, ribs!" she said in delight when she saw the dining room table. "My favorite! Who do I thank?"
"That would be me and Whitey," Xander said. "I did the actual cooking, but he made the barbecue sauce— which is awesome."
Ribs, steak fries, corn on the cob, salad— a damned good dinner, and I will say that Whitey Penobscot makes the best barbecue sauce ever.
Afterwards, Chantelle, Rose and I got picked to clear the table, and when we finished, everyone was gone from the living room. We started to go upstairs to hang more (not really, but Chantelle wasn't supposed to know that), and Giles stuck his head out of the library.
"Girls, may I speak to you for a moment?" he called. "I hate disturb you on a Sunday, but this is… rather important."
We went, and when Chantelle opened the door and stepped in, everyone from both houses bellowed, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Everyone was gathered around the big conference table, which was piled high with presents, and a HUGE round cake.
Chantelle blinked— and then she turned and looked at me and Rose.
"Which one of y'all is the birthday girl?" she demanded. "And how come nobody told me?"
Whitey cracked up. He dropped into a chair, laughing hard, and shook his head.
"Chantelle Clarice Rostov," he said, gasping for breath. "This is Sunday— July twentieth. Does that date mean anything to you, you dingbat? Anything at all?"
"The— holy god on a Bunsen burner, it's my birthday!" Chantelle said. "I— ribs! Steak fries! Corn on the cob! My favorites!
"I forgot my own damn birthday!"
At that, we all fell apart.
The party was a great deal of fun. She loved everything, especially the Gamecube (big surprise) and the two hundred dollar gift card to Barnes and Noble's that Giles gave her.
The cake gave her giggle fits. It was decorated like a dartboard, and each candle looked like a dart. Given her "knack" for throwing things, and the way she regularly ate all comers alive at darts, it was perfect.
She hugged everyone, thanked us all with a sincerity that you could feel, and laughed at herself for forgetting the day frequently.
The afternoon went quietly— if you stayed away from the rec room, where a bunch of us girls sat and played her at various Gamecube games. That got pretty noisy, a few times, I'm sure.
In the evening, Whitey took her off to dinner with him, going to the Cracker Barrel in Bloomington, her favorite restaurant on the planet, then to a movie, then to Barnes and Noble's.
That turned into a disaster.
Rose and I were still downstairs with most everyone else, watching Toby Maguire as Spider-man beat the snot out of Willem Dafoe's Green Goblin when the phone rang at about ten after ten.
I was close, so I grabbed it, said, "Giles Acad—"
"I need help!" Chantelle wailed— and I pressed the speakerphone button, said, "Mute!" at Xander, who had the TV remote, and said, "What's wrong, Chantelle?"
"She took Whitey!" Chantelle sobbed. "There was five of them, five vampires, and she— she took Whitey!"
"Chantelle, where are you?" Giles asked.
"Behind— behind Barnes and Noble's," Chantelle said. "Giles, she took Whitey! He wasn't— he didn't even FIGHT HER! She said— she said she'd— HE DIDN'T FIGHT!"
"Are you hurt?" Giles asked, even as Rose bounced to her feet and ran for the stairs— presumably to get her sword. "Chantelle, are you hurt?"
"I'm bleedin' some, but that don't matter! The goddamn vampire bitch took Whitey, Giles!"
"I understand, Chantelle," Giles said. "We're on our way. Lock yourself in the car, can you do that? And do you have a cross?"
"I'm in the car, I got a cross!" Chantelle said, sounding as though she was speaking to an idiot. "That don't matter, dammit! You have to find Whitey, Giles, you have to!"
"We will," he said. Rose came back down carrying her sword and a bunch of stakes. "We're on our way now, Chantelle— stay in the car, we'll be there as fast as we can, and we'll start looking for Whitey."
"God, hurry, please, hurry!" Chantelle said— and sobbed, a horrible, heartbroken thing, even as she hit the disconnect.
"Everyone goes except Nancy, Laurie, the untried students, and… I need one full-fledged Slayer to stay here." He looked around for volunteers, and Viv and Kennedy both stood. "Mmm. This could be a feint— both of you stay. Kennedy, you're in charge.
"The rest of you, get to the vehicles. Buffy, Willow, Rose, Elaine and Kelly, with me— the rest of you as you like. Be quick, but don't be careless."
We went to the van, and Kelly took the keys from Giles, said, "I'm driving— I'm faster, and I know the town." He didn't argue, just gave her the keys and grabbed the shotgun seat.
Kelly drove like a madwoman— I wasn't surprised; something had hurt one of her kids. So… Super-Mom to the rescue, and I really doubt that any minivan ever got a workout like that one did, before or since.
She did ninety most of the way down Veteran's Parkway, where the speed limit's forty-five, cut in and out of traffic like she was racing at Indianapolis on Labor Day. None of us said anything about her driving, we just hung on and prayed— for Whitey, not for ourselves.
The car Whitey had taken (Team Slayer had five vehicles, now, having added a pair of cars to the mix, full-sized sedans in black and gray) was parked slantwise behind Barnes and Noble's, nose almost against the retaining wall that separated the back lot for the Barnes and Noble's and Schnuck's shopping plaza and the three-feet-higher back drive and parking area of the strip mall behind it. Chantelle leaped out as soon as we got there, and Kelly and Giles both gasped— hell, we all made sounds of… hurt, shock, fright.
A dagger stuck out of the back of Chantelle's left shoulder, high above organs, but still in deep. Her face had blood on it from a still-oozing cut on her forehead, her blouse was more torn away than there, and her jeans had been ripped in a couple of places.
"Buffy, handle the search for clues," Giles said as Kelly got the van stopped. "Rose, you handle the defense. Kelly, with me."
Giles and Kelly ran to Chantelle, Buffy and Willow started looking around the area, and I looked at Rose for orders.
"Sweep back here for trouble," Rose said. "I'll check up by the strip mall. Then you patrol a clockwise circle, no more than fifteen paces from Chantelle, Giles and Kelly at any time. When the others catch up, we'll add layers."
I nodded and moved to check the hiding places back here, being careful, trying not to get in the way of Buffy and Willow— or to be distracted by Chantelle's sobs as she tried, even while badly hurt, to tell Giles and Kelly what had happened, even while they were telling her to hush and let them help her.
"I DON'T MATTER!" Chantelle screamed at Giles after a moment. "WE HAVE TO FIND WHITEY, I DON'T MATTER!"
"Stop it!" Buffy said, appearing in front of Chantelle like she'd teleported, almost. "Chantelle, you stop! You do matter— and so does Whitey. But, honey, he needs you to be calm. He'd want you to let Giles and Kelly fix you, he'd be terrified that you're hurt.
"You need to calm down and let them fix you up, or you won't be able to help him, and that's the most important thing right now!"
Chantelle stared at Buffy for a moment— then let out one harsh sob, and said, "You— I— he let 'em take him, let 'em hurt him, so that they wouldn't hurt me! He got hurt 'cause he wouldn't let 'em hurt me!
"It's my fault!"
"No, Chantelle," Buffy said, hugging her, avoiding the knife still in her shoulder, but hugging her hard. "No, not your fault— theirs. They did this. Not you. Never you, not your fault, never your fault!"
The others arrived then, and Rose started issuing orders.
"Vincent, Xander, help Willow look for clues," she said. "Sh'rin, Brianne— play sentry together, east along the back, here, about forty paces. Sunrise, Sara, you take sentry at the corner back there. Elaine, check the roof of the strip mall. I've got the roof here."
I went to the strip mall, climbed on top of a dumpster, went to the roof from there, moved along it, checking for bad guys— nothing. While I was doing that, Rose went up a sturdy drain pipe to the roof of Barnes and Noble's, moved around up there, occasionally close enough to the edge that I could see her.
My roof was clear, so I dropped back down and resumed my clockwise patrol around the van. Chantelle had calmed down, and Giles and Kelly were cleaning her injuries— the dagger that had been in her shoulder lay to one side, and Giles was stitching closed the wound. Kelly was bandaging the cut on Chantelle's forehead, talking to her in low tones.
Rose came back down, shimmied down the drainpipe quickly, shook her head at my questioning look— she hadn't found anything either. She started a wider circle than mine, going counter-clockwise, looking at Chantelle worriedly occasionally.
Giles and Kelly finished working on Chantelle, and Giles called everyone together. Buffy and the others reported a negative on finding any clues, and he sighed wearily.
"We cannot stay here to talk," Giles said. "The police will undoubtedly take an interest. Chantelle saw the van that took Whitey going south on the Parkway, and believes they went past Washington. Rose? Kelly? Any ideas as to a place where we could talk?"
"The parks all officially close at ten," Kelly said with a sigh. "That eliminates a lot of places…."
"Officially, they close," Rose said— and I knew what she was talking about immediately. "But in some of the smaller ones, they don't actually enforce it."
"Franklin Park," I said. "Yeah, if you aren't causing trouble, the cops tend to not bother you. And with grownups with us… I'll bet they'd leave us alone."
"I'll drive," Kelly said. "Everyone follow me— I'll drive sane this time."
Franklin Park was a nice little place. A square city block of trees, picnic tables and benches, with a couple of swing sets— nothing fancy or complex, but pretty, especially in the fall.
Xander, Vincent and Buffy wrestled three picnic tables into a half-circle, and we moved to sit. Once we'd all gotten as comfortable as we could, Giles looked at Chantelle and said, "Tell us what happened, Chantelle."
Chantelle closed her still-streaming eyes, took a deep breath— and told us.