TITLE: Best of Breed
AUTHOR: clarrie
DISCLAIMER: Obviously don't own Giles, Wesley, Buffy, Anya and the Scooby gang. Alice Boston and others are mine, most of the info about watchers and the watchers council was made up by me and is based on my interpretation of it as an institution.
All witchy stuff made up by me and bares little resemblance to say, Wicca or any of the other old faiths.
SPOILERS: mild up to mid season 3, but as if faith and the mayor had not existed and Anya and Xander had got together earlier. Does include Wesley character though.
At the time of story Oz had ginger hair.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This is the Fourth Fic in the 'Observance' series, which deals with what happens when a old friend of Giles leaps, two footed and with a cry of Geronimo!, into the scoobie's lives.
It's worth pointing out that, due to the timeline in this fic series, anything referred to that actually happened on the show, is assumed to have happened before October, regardless of when it actually did happen.
You can read other fic by clarrie at http://www.geocities.com/priiti/fanfic.html
'Kay, I got us Thai chicken, some sort of pasta stuff.' Buffy began to pull the packages from her paper grocery bag, 'A big bag of chips, some fruit.' Listed Buffy, placing her purchases on the table top, 'And a…Who the hell are you?'
'Buffy' Giles passed her a teacup in greeting. 'Miss Charnen is…that is…'
The older woman raised her head. 'The Slayer?'
Buffy stiffened at the sound of her accent. 'They've sent another one? Giles?' Her voice rose. 'What, they don't have anything better to do? Just keep sending more to deal with the bad seed and she'll toe the line? Is that it? Well you don't scare me, ok. So why don't you just…'
'Buffy.' Interrupted Giles softly. 'Miss Charnen is not a Watcher.'
'She's not?' Xander frowned. 'Wesley, have you been using Buffy to impress chicks again?'
Giles carried on without response. ' And please, there is no call for that sort of behaviour Buffy.'
'Well why is she here then? Don't try and tell me that she's not with them somehow.'
'Dead?' Alice's tone was unusually slight. 'I-I-I-I-I…' She stuttered and ran her hands over her jaw. 'We…I-I-I…' A deep breath shook her shoulders. 'Was it them?'
'Celia?' Cordelia placed a spoonful of unidentified pasta based foodstuff into her mouth and pondered the name. 'Celia, Celia.' She frowned. 'Celia the dog?'
'It was them.' The rosary beads twisted through the older woman's fingers. 'They, they came on a…It wasn't a moon night, none of the wards were in place…'The beads flowed faster. 'By the time we found them, it had passed and she was…' She set her jaw and raised her head to stare at her friend. 'It has begun.'
'And when the first has been taken, the dark one will rise and shall have the second.
And there will be a black quickening.
That which will come into this word without a soul shall be, and with it they shall bring the dark times and lead us into the night.' Dzecthel slammed the book shut with the flat of his hand and blinked in the cloud of dust. 'Nice.'
'We didn't write the damn thing.' Hiliare Gilchrist sniffed, flicking a nonexistant speck of dust from his sleeve. 'And you mentioned something about information?'
'I don't just give this stuff out for free.' Dzcethel sneered. 'What makes you think I won't just rip your throat out?'
Gilchrist smiled sharply. 'Judy.' He called into the darkness behind him. 'Judy dear could you come here for a moment?'
'Ah do wish you would refrain from callin' me that.'
Dzecthel stepped backwards as the slick grey green bulk of the popocatepetl demon stepped from the darkness, ducking lightly beneath a protruding rafter.
'Ah'm fully aware that it is a ladies name.' The creature extended a lengthy claw and stared at the points of light glinting along it.
'You think I'm scared of that?'
Hiliare raised an eyebrow. 'Well he terrifies me, but perhaps not…' He delicately shielded a yawn. 'Judy.'
'Jaudkah!'
'Judy dear, would you care to remove the tarpaulin?' Dzecthel leapt back once more as the tarpaulin to the left of him was torn away exposing a duo of vampires to the dull light of the warehouse interior.
'Dingo. Our voweless friend here would like to tear my throat out. Ideas?'
As the larger vampire crashed against the bars of the cage in which they were confined, the smaller lifted his head at the sound of his name.
'Ideas?' It remarked in an accent which spoke of koalas, of tinnies, of shrimps and of barbies. An accent unhampered by a century of cultural refinement and which made Steve Irwin sound like a big old girly poof. 'I think he's just shit 'imself mate, you don't need ideas when you've got Tiny here.'
'So.' Hiliare tapped out a rhythm on the arm of his chair. 'As I am fully aware that you, Mr Dzecthel have been told to give your information to us gratis. Oh don't look so surprised Mr Dzecthel, we're mercenaries you don't think we check these things? And as you are so obviously terrified of my little team, would you care to divulge exactly what your Dr Villiem has told you?'
'W-What the…Who…What is it?' Stuttered Dzecthel staring at the vampire's foaming jaws as they closed around the rusted bars of its cage.
'Well, Dingo here calls him Tiny, although I believe he's also widely known as 'Aargh'.'
Hiliare cracked his knuckles and held out a cigarette to Dzecthel. 'Usually we refer to him as Bastard.'
'Bastard?''
'It's short for Sadistic Degenerate Bastard. Would you care to shake hands? I'm told that Dingo has trained him to perform that little trick with anything up to a seventy percent success rate nowadays. No-no I can see you're not the hands on type. So, the information if you please.'
'The second. He goes to the local high school. He's weak as a kitten, refuses to accept himself for what he is. You'll have no trouble.' With the animalistic vampire placated Dzecthel's confidence grew. 'My employer demands only one thing as payment for his help.'
'Then your employer had better buy himself a dictionary and look up the word mercenary.' Murmured the bored looking Englishman. 'We're not in the habit of giving out our services for free Mr Dzecthel, with the obvious exception of Judy of course.'
'Ah do not have to take this.' Dzecthel watched in fascination as the rippling compost coloured beast, which could have inspired H.R. Giger to give it all up and sell encyclopaedias, put it's 'hand' to it's face and sniffed haughtily. 'Sometimes Ah swear you don't know how deep you can cut a demon.'
Hiliare blinked. 'Your demands Dzecthel?'
'He wants you to you use a specific woman for the, well, you're aware of your job.' Dzecthel placed a hand inside his jacket. 'No just sticking a pin in the hospital records.'
'There are... Requirements.'
Dzecthel drew a photo from his inside pocket. 'Yes, yes, yes, woman of magic, no more than four moons, still silent.' He straightened his jacket. 'Big hips too for what it's worth.'
'Anything else you want to add?'
'You're doing it?'
Hiliare considered the photograph. 'I see no reason not to.'
'Then it's a deal.' Dzecthel's hand hung unshaken in the air as Hiliare turned and gave the photograph to his employee. 'Right.' He let his hand fall awkwardly to his side. 'I'll tell him that you're on board.' He turned to leave.
'We are however still in the brotherhood of Wolfmonat 's employee.' Called Hiliare after the retreating vampire. 'We retain the right to use someone else, if we have to.'
Dzecthel paused mid step. 'And I might not tell you what the slayer looks like. If I have to.' He smiled coldly and walked away, flinching as the crazed vampire flung himself at the bars of his cage.
'Oh my...' Drawled Jaudkah wistfully as he watched Dzecthel leave. 'Ah do so hate it when a perfectla' good demon goes native like that.'
Ripper opened his eyes lazily as he felt the icy waters lap around his throat. Don't recognise this. He lolled his head back, his mind as numbed as his limbs. His unfocussed gaze drifted towards his surrounding. Water? He frowned. Better get out soon, you stay too long in water wearing jeans it'll dye your legs blue. Blue legs, He'd get the piss ripped right out of him for that. Better get out soon then. Just have a bit of a kip first. Voices? He opened his eyes and watched the two women walking a dog in the distance. He let his head fall back again. All arse and sensible shoes, not worth getting up for. Probably two of the rippers from St Hilda's anyway. Snotty cows. A sudden movement in the water next to him drew his attention. Bloody dog. Piss off I'm trying to sleep.
'You shouldn't let her off the lead.'
'What have you found girl?'
Why didn't they just let him alone? He relaxed his eyes and let the darkness already claiming the corners of his sight fill his view. Why couldn't they just bugger off, all he wanted was a few minutes…
Giles awoke in a cold sweat.
'Giles?' Buffy's voice called through the letterbox. 'Giles are you alright? Can I come in?'
'It's open.' Called Giles, his Watcher instincts as ever preventing him from a simple 'come in'. If there was only one useful thing that the council taught it's representatives it was that whilst a locked door kept few enemies at bay a carefully worded greeting would pay for itself.
'Giles?' Buffy peered around the door. 'Are you feeling ok?'
'What?' Giles pushed his fingers through his hair and reached down to put his glasses back on. 'Yes, yes, just an unpleasant dream that's all.' He blinked the grit from his eyes and turned to her . 'Just an, um, unpleasant dream.'
'An Eyghon dream?' Buffy and Willow faced him with concerned frowns.
''In a manner of speaking.' Giles slid his glasses back on and peered into the gloom. 'Was, um, was there something you wished to discuss?'
'Nope.' Buffy shook her hair out from her collar and shrugged carelessly. 'Just finished patrolling and thought we'd stop in on the way to the Bronze.'
'Buffy.' Willow tapped playfully at her watch. 'You don't want us to stay Giles?'
'No, no. 'Giles smoothed his hair back. 'You, um, run along to the Bronze.'
'Run along? Ok mom.' Willow smiled softly as she turned back to shut the door. ' Call ok. If you ever need to talk. Don't make me nag.'
Giles raised an eyebrow and returned her smile. 'Ok mum.' He echoed watching the girls leave. 'Have fun.'
Giles poured himself a glass and sat back down in the semi darkness of his flat.
To have that dream now. He sipped at his drink, unwilling to find oblivion through that method.
What heroically dreadful timing the memory exhibited.
Alice sat deep in the old armchair, second hand, if not third or fourth. It was nice to have something that had belonged to another person. New furniture jarred against the soul.
She stuck out her bottom lip and blew a rogue strand of hair away from her face.
'You're very big.'
'Pardon?' Alice frowned as Martha stared at her rounded abdomen . 'Oh.'
'How far gone are you?'
'Oh, gosh, only three, no wait four months, fifteen weeks. Apparently I'm carrying low, Mrs Summers says that…'
'Why didn't you phone?' Martha's sharp tones barked through Alice's mild inanities.
'I-I-I…'
'You thought, what did you think? That I would…That the council would…You're not some damn slip of a girl that…' The blackened polished wood rosary beads threaded through Martha's fingers once more. Dark loops around her angular, blue white, digits. Like shadow and light, moving at the speed given by practise and not murmuring the words aloud.
'When were you going to tell us?'
'I-I thought perhaps…'
'No, no you didn't think.' Martha's jaw tightened. 'Don't you trust me? And what about your uncle? You'll have to phone him first thing in the morning.'
'It...the time.'
'Accounting for the time difference of course.' Martha bent and lifted her handbag from the floor. 'Where's your kettle?'
'It, Um.' Alice pushed her hair away from her face and frowned recovering her equilibrium. 'Amazingly enough it's in the kitchen.'
Alice closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Martha's shoes as they tapped across the bare linoleum to the kitchen, the pipes groaned and bubbled as the tap was turned sharply on and off, the kettle filled and set to boil. The tiny, shrill rattle of the teaspoons as they were dropped into the cups drilled into the sensitive area of her consciousness and she felt the muscles at the back of her neck begin to tighten.
'Do you still take sugar?'
'What? Um, pardon, I mean, no.' Alice pushed herself to her feet. 'No thank you Martha, I have to, that is I must continue my Observance.' Alice draped her jacket over her arm and picked up her own handbag. 'The slayer is, I must…' Alice paused at the door. ' I'll be back later.'
Shutting the door of her flat behind her, Alice rested her shoulder on the cool white plaster and slid a hair pin across a stray curl.
'Well.' She pushed her glasses a little higher up onto the bridge of her nose and breathed in deeply. 'That went well.'