***
Buffy dragged herself up the stairs and stumbled into her room. Her bleary eyes struggled to focus on the clock. The numerals read 3:12 AM. Even by Slayer standards this was a late night. She was covered in vamp dust, dirt, and dried sweat. A shower would be nice. She flopped onto the bed for a few minutes rest.
"Buffy... Buffy." The Slayer struggled towards consciousness like a swimmer surfacing in a sea of molasses. Why was her mom shaking her? Why was Joyce awake at 3:30 AM? Why was she saying "Mr. Giles is on the phone?"
Buffy blinked her grit-filled eyes and tried to pry her parched tongue free from the roof of her mouth. The clock didn't read 3:30; it was 6:15. She looked down. She still wore her patrolling clothes. She picked up the phone.
"Yeah?" she croaked.
"Buffy, I need to see you before school," Giles said.
The Slayer tried to swallow. "Sure, Giles. I've had three hours sleep. I'm rarin' to go."
The gravity in Giles's voice was like cold water in her face. "I'm sorry, but this is an urgent situation."
Buffy ran a hand over her features. "I'll be there. Just let me shower." She hung up the phone and sighed.
***
Giles was in full-alert mode when she arrived. He already had the maps on the table, the pencils sharpened, and the books piled on the counter.
Buffy staggered to a chair and collapsed. "What is it, Giles?"
"About last night--" he began.
"I know. Busy night. Lots of vamps. I was there." She yawned and winced. "I'm always there."
Giles straightened. "Have you seen the final body count?" he asked, his voice a little snippy.
"Body count? What body count?" Buffy sat upright. Giles gestured toward the map. It was festooned with clusters of red dots.
"Each dot represents a fatality. As you can--"
"Giles, a little credit here. I didn't think that each dot was a frozen custard stand." Buffy leaned forward, studying the map. "Faith and I patrolled mostly here--" she pointed to a tract between two of the clusters "-and some here." She tapped an area south of the smallest clump of dots.
Giles stared at the map as though by looking hard enough he could divine some deeper meaning. He rubbed a hand along his jaw. "Did you notice anything unusual?"
"Shuh, yeah. A whole lot more vampires for one thing." Buffy frowned. "Although now that I see it on the map..."
"What?" Giles asked.
"The vamps were different. We've been getting newbies, the occasional toughie in the mix. Last night, they were all bad."
"How so?" Giles bent forward slightly.
Buffy shrugged, frowning. "All veterans. These--" she tapped the western grouping of dots "-were Trick's and these--" she indicated "-were the Reverend's."
"How can you be sure?" Giles looked at the map.
"Giles, please. The way they dress? The Reverend's crew all look like the cast of a high-school production of The Pirates of Penzance. Trick's all look... sharp."
"I'm pleased that you can take the time to notice fashion sense."
"It's just they never mix..." The Slayer's voice trailed away and she looked up at Giles, her eyes wide. "They never mix. Haven't you and Lindsay wondered what they're doing?"
"Yes." Giles looked puzzled.
Buffy slapped the map with the flat of her hand. "They're not working together. We've never seen them co-operate. It's just two sets of vampires."
"What about that?" Giles indicated the third group of dots.
Buffy stared at the map. "I don't know. We didn't get there." She looked at Giles. "But maybe we're looking for a pattern where there isn't one. Maybe it's a fluke, or a phase of the moon, or one of those weird minor saint's feast days vamps love."
Giles nodded slowly. "It's possible. But I don't want to jump to any conclusions."
Buffy scrunched up her nose. "Then how about I jump and you stand ready to pull me back to shore if I'm wrong?"
Giles sighed. "Seems like that's the bulk of my job as it is."
***
"It sounds as though the entire operation was a complete success." The Mayor wiggled his fingers at a spaniel puppy. The little dog yipped inside its cage.
"Yes," Swopes said. "It was flawless. No transformation errors, no control glitches. Everything was perfect."
"Well, that makes me happy." The Mayor extended his fingers through the wire mesh and began tickling the puppy's nose. "Very happy indeed, Swopes."
"I can't tell you how pleased I am, sir. We calculated a probable five-percent margin of error. To have a faultless first run is just... well, it's more than I would have hoped."
"How long will it be before we can do it again?" The Mayor continued to play with the puppy, which bounded about its enclosure, ecstatic over a new friend.
"Probably two days. It will take that long to recalibrate endorphin levels and--"
"Dammit!" The Mayor's hand jerked back. A drop of crimson marked the tip of a finger. The puppy cocked its head, puzzled over the disappearance of its recent playmate. "Nipped my finger," the Mayor said. He crouched down, face even with the cage and stuck his hand through the wire. "C'mere," he whispered. The puppy took a hesitant step, then bounded forward to sniff his hand. The Mayor's hand closed. "Little sonofabitch," he hissed. "Bite me, will you." A terrified yelp echoed in the tile room, followed by a wet, pitiful yip that was cut off at its apex.
The Mayor plucked a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began wiping his hands. "Call me when they're ready," he said to a pale and shaking Dr. Swopes. "And get somebody to clean that up."
***
"Hey B, how's my girl?" Faith threw an arm around Buffy and squeezed. The blonde Slayer's head goggled back and forth as though on a spring. She disengaged herself from the brunette's grip.
"Actually," Buffy said, "I'm feeling really beat."
"Really?" Faith shrugged. "I feel great. Course, I've only been up about an hour."
"Yeah," Buffy said. "That missing the first two hours of school does wonders for a person."
Faith was unfazed. "Hey, it's not like anyone made you get out of bed and come to school."
"Yeah, they did. Giles wanted to talk about last night."
"You mean all the extra vamps?" Faith grinned, a sly, cocky expression. "Did you tell him that we well and truly kicked their asses?"
"We didn't." Buffy faced the dark Slayer. "His map looks like it got paintballed. There are corpses all over town."
"No shit?" Faith was incredulous. "That's impossible."
Buffy shook her head. "No, it's not. It might not mean anything, but we've got to be on our toes."
***
"Hey, Oz, how's it going?"
Oz turned. He knew the voice. It belonged to Ricky Moreno. Ricky was a sophomore, all wiry hair and twitchy hands, good at math and mediocre at history, but more importantly, he was devoted to Dingoes Ate My Baby.
"Ricky," Oz said as he turned from his locker. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to tell you how great I think Dingoes are sounding." Ricky kept bouncing up on his toes, a maneuver that was going to render Oz seasick if it continued much longer. "I mean, you guys have been really tight."
"Thanks." Oz hoisted the old postal bag he used as a backpack.
"So, when are you guys going to record anything?" Ricky skittered along the hallway, keeping pace with Oz.
"I don't know if we're ready for the studio. That's a pretty serious commitment."
"You don't have to go into a studio. You can get a computer program for a hundred bucks that'll let you record onto your hard disk. I'm surprised you didn't know that."
Oz came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway. "I did know that. I just hadn't thought of it."
"It's something you should think about. You guys sound great. Especially the new guy."
"Yeah?" Oz felt his neck muscles tense.
"Yeah. He's fantastic. He adds a lot. Bringing him on board was one of your best moves ever."
For a split-second, a half-a-heartbeat, Oz saw the world through a blood-red lens. He could almost feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck. "I'm glad to hear it," he said when the moment passed. "I hope you get to enjoy him for a long time."
***
Giles was affixing stickers to books. The stickers had a bar code printed on them which enabled him to check books out to students by simply passing a small laser stylus over the black lines. He was only doing this to the new books. Giles found the thought of repeating the process on one of the old classics offensive.
The door opened behind him. He peeled a sticker away from its glossy backing and pressed it down on the back cover of some book by an author named Lurlene McDaniel. The very name caused a shudder to pass through the Watcher. The subject matter, something to do with a dying girl finding the meaning of life, did not dissuade him from judging this book by its cover.
"Do you ever do anything but work?"
Giles laid the book aside and picked up another. "I try to fulfill the responsibilities that I have accepted."
"Oh, Rupert, that was very subtle. Like a flying mallet." Gerard Roland leaned against the counter. "You are still angry with me, no?"
Giles would not turn to look at his old friend. "I don't believe anger is the word. Disappointed might be more accurate."
"Disappointed? In me? Why?"
Now Giles turned, his eyes bright and his lips pale. "You have the gall to ask me why?"
"Yes." Gerard pushed away from the counter and approached the librarian. "You act as though I have taken advantage of a child. The young lady in question is not child. Have you looked at her?"
Giles clenched a fist. "If you are implying what I think you're implying, then you are on thin ice."
"Your use of American colloquialisms is outstanding." Gerard laid a hand on the counter. "Of course you had no impure thoughts about her. I remember a time when you might have, but not now. You have become the impeccable Rupert Giles."
Giles colored. "Do not attempt to paint me as some sort of prude or puritan. This is not the first time you have done this sort of thing."
Gerard smiled ruefully. "No, but I, on the other hand, have never been impeccable." He tapped his knuckles on the polished wood. "Perhaps that is why you have a Slayer and I do not."
Giles eyes narrowed. "Don't. Don't even try that ploy. You know that the selection of Watcher and Slayer is not in the hands of the Council."
A sound that might have been a chuckle came from Gerard. "In the old days, you were not so credulous. The Ripper truly is gone."
"What do you mean?" Giles asked, caught off-balance.
Gerard took a deep breath. "One reason I came to you is that I suspect that someone at the Council has done just that. I believe that they have tampered with the selection process."
***
Willie sidled up to the booth. "So, uh, you gonna order anything or what?"
Angel looked up at the snitch and grinned. The expression did not warm the cockles of Willie's heart. "Maybe I just want to enjoy the ambiance," Angel said.
"Yeah, well, there may not too much of that left if you keep hangin' around." The balding little ferret of a man glanced about. "In case you ain't noticed, there's not a lot of people happy to see you here."
Angel's gaze swept the bar. Backs were turned and the adjacent booths were empty, as well as the table closest to him. "I don't know. You don't seem to be hurting."
"Sure, there's asses in the seats, but it's a dead crowd. No pun intended." The little man stretched his neck as though trying to work out a kink. "All of 'em nursing one glass. Not even got the decency to take their one drink and leave, open a slot for someone else."
"And you're blaming me for your troubles?"
"Well, c'mon, you give everybody the creeps, what with the whole soul thing and... the little trip you took. Everybody gets the heebie-jeebies around you."
"Do you, Willie?" Angel rolled an empty glass between his hands.
"Aw, why are you busting my chops? I never did nothin' to you."
"Funny, that's not what I remember. I remember you selling me out to Spike." Angel turned to the proprietor, his face wearing the form of a smile but none of the substance. "So don't screw with me, or I'll be the most unholy buzzkill you've ever seen."
The little man stumbled backward. As he turned and hurried away he muttered, "I don't know why I do this. Just trying to run a business, that's all..."
***
"What do you mean?" Giles asked. He tried to keep his voice from trembling. "Are you saying that Buffy and I..." His voice trailed away. He was too devastated to even give voice to his thoughts.
"Of course not." Gerard rolled his eyes in frustration. "How egocentric of you. Of course you are Buffy's Watcher. I am referring to Faith and Lindsay."
Giles squinted in puzzlement. "What?"
"Come, come Rupert. Use that wonderful, logical mind of yours for a moment. Have you ever known a Watcher to be activated so soon after the completion of their training. And even if she weren't so new, what about Constantine Spyro? He's a veteran Watcher, already in Boston?"
Giles shook his head. "You know that seniority has nothing to do with Watcher selection."
Gerard nodded, his face grim. "I know, and that is why I began to look into the process. I wanted to convince myself that I was paranoid. Instead, I found indications of tampering with the rituals, evidence of withheld information."
Giles was silent for a moment. "We have to tell Lindsay. We--"
"We must do nothing of the sort, old friend. If we inform her, what will she do? Resign? If she does that, your enemies will know you are on to them. If she remains as Faith's Watcher, how can she possibly serve if she believes herself to be illegitimate?" He took a deep breath. "Besides, it is possible that I am mistaken."
Giles' lips narrowed in anger. "Yet you still took advantage of her."
Gerard shook his head. "Must we always return to that? She does not have this knowledge. I did not exploit any weakness in her, especially not any weakness created by me."
Giles stared at his old friend. "You were wrong, but the past is past. What will we do now?"
Gerard shrugged. "I say do nothing. As far as everyone except us is concerned, she is Faith's rightful Watcher.
Buffy dragged herself up the stairs and stumbled into her room. Her bleary eyes struggled to focus on the clock. The numerals read 3:12 AM. Even by Slayer standards this was a late night. She was covered in vamp dust, dirt, and dried sweat. A shower would be nice. She flopped onto the bed for a few minutes rest.
"Buffy... Buffy." The Slayer struggled towards consciousness like a swimmer surfacing in a sea of molasses. Why was her mom shaking her? Why was Joyce awake at 3:30 AM? Why was she saying "Mr. Giles is on the phone?"
Buffy blinked her grit-filled eyes and tried to pry her parched tongue free from the roof of her mouth. The clock didn't read 3:30; it was 6:15. She looked down. She still wore her patrolling clothes. She picked up the phone.
"Yeah?" she croaked.
"Buffy, I need to see you before school," Giles said.
The Slayer tried to swallow. "Sure, Giles. I've had three hours sleep. I'm rarin' to go."
The gravity in Giles's voice was like cold water in her face. "I'm sorry, but this is an urgent situation."
Buffy ran a hand over her features. "I'll be there. Just let me shower." She hung up the phone and sighed.
***
Giles was in full-alert mode when she arrived. He already had the maps on the table, the pencils sharpened, and the books piled on the counter.
Buffy staggered to a chair and collapsed. "What is it, Giles?"
"About last night--" he began.
"I know. Busy night. Lots of vamps. I was there." She yawned and winced. "I'm always there."
Giles straightened. "Have you seen the final body count?" he asked, his voice a little snippy.
"Body count? What body count?" Buffy sat upright. Giles gestured toward the map. It was festooned with clusters of red dots.
"Each dot represents a fatality. As you can--"
"Giles, a little credit here. I didn't think that each dot was a frozen custard stand." Buffy leaned forward, studying the map. "Faith and I patrolled mostly here--" she pointed to a tract between two of the clusters "-and some here." She tapped an area south of the smallest clump of dots.
Giles stared at the map as though by looking hard enough he could divine some deeper meaning. He rubbed a hand along his jaw. "Did you notice anything unusual?"
"Shuh, yeah. A whole lot more vampires for one thing." Buffy frowned. "Although now that I see it on the map..."
"What?" Giles asked.
"The vamps were different. We've been getting newbies, the occasional toughie in the mix. Last night, they were all bad."
"How so?" Giles bent forward slightly.
Buffy shrugged, frowning. "All veterans. These--" she tapped the western grouping of dots "-were Trick's and these--" she indicated "-were the Reverend's."
"How can you be sure?" Giles looked at the map.
"Giles, please. The way they dress? The Reverend's crew all look like the cast of a high-school production of The Pirates of Penzance. Trick's all look... sharp."
"I'm pleased that you can take the time to notice fashion sense."
"It's just they never mix..." The Slayer's voice trailed away and she looked up at Giles, her eyes wide. "They never mix. Haven't you and Lindsay wondered what they're doing?"
"Yes." Giles looked puzzled.
Buffy slapped the map with the flat of her hand. "They're not working together. We've never seen them co-operate. It's just two sets of vampires."
"What about that?" Giles indicated the third group of dots.
Buffy stared at the map. "I don't know. We didn't get there." She looked at Giles. "But maybe we're looking for a pattern where there isn't one. Maybe it's a fluke, or a phase of the moon, or one of those weird minor saint's feast days vamps love."
Giles nodded slowly. "It's possible. But I don't want to jump to any conclusions."
Buffy scrunched up her nose. "Then how about I jump and you stand ready to pull me back to shore if I'm wrong?"
Giles sighed. "Seems like that's the bulk of my job as it is."
***
"It sounds as though the entire operation was a complete success." The Mayor wiggled his fingers at a spaniel puppy. The little dog yipped inside its cage.
"Yes," Swopes said. "It was flawless. No transformation errors, no control glitches. Everything was perfect."
"Well, that makes me happy." The Mayor extended his fingers through the wire mesh and began tickling the puppy's nose. "Very happy indeed, Swopes."
"I can't tell you how pleased I am, sir. We calculated a probable five-percent margin of error. To have a faultless first run is just... well, it's more than I would have hoped."
"How long will it be before we can do it again?" The Mayor continued to play with the puppy, which bounded about its enclosure, ecstatic over a new friend.
"Probably two days. It will take that long to recalibrate endorphin levels and--"
"Dammit!" The Mayor's hand jerked back. A drop of crimson marked the tip of a finger. The puppy cocked its head, puzzled over the disappearance of its recent playmate. "Nipped my finger," the Mayor said. He crouched down, face even with the cage and stuck his hand through the wire. "C'mere," he whispered. The puppy took a hesitant step, then bounded forward to sniff his hand. The Mayor's hand closed. "Little sonofabitch," he hissed. "Bite me, will you." A terrified yelp echoed in the tile room, followed by a wet, pitiful yip that was cut off at its apex.
The Mayor plucked a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began wiping his hands. "Call me when they're ready," he said to a pale and shaking Dr. Swopes. "And get somebody to clean that up."
***
"Hey B, how's my girl?" Faith threw an arm around Buffy and squeezed. The blonde Slayer's head goggled back and forth as though on a spring. She disengaged herself from the brunette's grip.
"Actually," Buffy said, "I'm feeling really beat."
"Really?" Faith shrugged. "I feel great. Course, I've only been up about an hour."
"Yeah," Buffy said. "That missing the first two hours of school does wonders for a person."
Faith was unfazed. "Hey, it's not like anyone made you get out of bed and come to school."
"Yeah, they did. Giles wanted to talk about last night."
"You mean all the extra vamps?" Faith grinned, a sly, cocky expression. "Did you tell him that we well and truly kicked their asses?"
"We didn't." Buffy faced the dark Slayer. "His map looks like it got paintballed. There are corpses all over town."
"No shit?" Faith was incredulous. "That's impossible."
Buffy shook her head. "No, it's not. It might not mean anything, but we've got to be on our toes."
***
"Hey, Oz, how's it going?"
Oz turned. He knew the voice. It belonged to Ricky Moreno. Ricky was a sophomore, all wiry hair and twitchy hands, good at math and mediocre at history, but more importantly, he was devoted to Dingoes Ate My Baby.
"Ricky," Oz said as he turned from his locker. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to tell you how great I think Dingoes are sounding." Ricky kept bouncing up on his toes, a maneuver that was going to render Oz seasick if it continued much longer. "I mean, you guys have been really tight."
"Thanks." Oz hoisted the old postal bag he used as a backpack.
"So, when are you guys going to record anything?" Ricky skittered along the hallway, keeping pace with Oz.
"I don't know if we're ready for the studio. That's a pretty serious commitment."
"You don't have to go into a studio. You can get a computer program for a hundred bucks that'll let you record onto your hard disk. I'm surprised you didn't know that."
Oz came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway. "I did know that. I just hadn't thought of it."
"It's something you should think about. You guys sound great. Especially the new guy."
"Yeah?" Oz felt his neck muscles tense.
"Yeah. He's fantastic. He adds a lot. Bringing him on board was one of your best moves ever."
For a split-second, a half-a-heartbeat, Oz saw the world through a blood-red lens. He could almost feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck. "I'm glad to hear it," he said when the moment passed. "I hope you get to enjoy him for a long time."
***
Giles was affixing stickers to books. The stickers had a bar code printed on them which enabled him to check books out to students by simply passing a small laser stylus over the black lines. He was only doing this to the new books. Giles found the thought of repeating the process on one of the old classics offensive.
The door opened behind him. He peeled a sticker away from its glossy backing and pressed it down on the back cover of some book by an author named Lurlene McDaniel. The very name caused a shudder to pass through the Watcher. The subject matter, something to do with a dying girl finding the meaning of life, did not dissuade him from judging this book by its cover.
"Do you ever do anything but work?"
Giles laid the book aside and picked up another. "I try to fulfill the responsibilities that I have accepted."
"Oh, Rupert, that was very subtle. Like a flying mallet." Gerard Roland leaned against the counter. "You are still angry with me, no?"
Giles would not turn to look at his old friend. "I don't believe anger is the word. Disappointed might be more accurate."
"Disappointed? In me? Why?"
Now Giles turned, his eyes bright and his lips pale. "You have the gall to ask me why?"
"Yes." Gerard pushed away from the counter and approached the librarian. "You act as though I have taken advantage of a child. The young lady in question is not child. Have you looked at her?"
Giles clenched a fist. "If you are implying what I think you're implying, then you are on thin ice."
"Your use of American colloquialisms is outstanding." Gerard laid a hand on the counter. "Of course you had no impure thoughts about her. I remember a time when you might have, but not now. You have become the impeccable Rupert Giles."
Giles colored. "Do not attempt to paint me as some sort of prude or puritan. This is not the first time you have done this sort of thing."
Gerard smiled ruefully. "No, but I, on the other hand, have never been impeccable." He tapped his knuckles on the polished wood. "Perhaps that is why you have a Slayer and I do not."
Giles eyes narrowed. "Don't. Don't even try that ploy. You know that the selection of Watcher and Slayer is not in the hands of the Council."
A sound that might have been a chuckle came from Gerard. "In the old days, you were not so credulous. The Ripper truly is gone."
"What do you mean?" Giles asked, caught off-balance.
Gerard took a deep breath. "One reason I came to you is that I suspect that someone at the Council has done just that. I believe that they have tampered with the selection process."
***
Willie sidled up to the booth. "So, uh, you gonna order anything or what?"
Angel looked up at the snitch and grinned. The expression did not warm the cockles of Willie's heart. "Maybe I just want to enjoy the ambiance," Angel said.
"Yeah, well, there may not too much of that left if you keep hangin' around." The balding little ferret of a man glanced about. "In case you ain't noticed, there's not a lot of people happy to see you here."
Angel's gaze swept the bar. Backs were turned and the adjacent booths were empty, as well as the table closest to him. "I don't know. You don't seem to be hurting."
"Sure, there's asses in the seats, but it's a dead crowd. No pun intended." The little man stretched his neck as though trying to work out a kink. "All of 'em nursing one glass. Not even got the decency to take their one drink and leave, open a slot for someone else."
"And you're blaming me for your troubles?"
"Well, c'mon, you give everybody the creeps, what with the whole soul thing and... the little trip you took. Everybody gets the heebie-jeebies around you."
"Do you, Willie?" Angel rolled an empty glass between his hands.
"Aw, why are you busting my chops? I never did nothin' to you."
"Funny, that's not what I remember. I remember you selling me out to Spike." Angel turned to the proprietor, his face wearing the form of a smile but none of the substance. "So don't screw with me, or I'll be the most unholy buzzkill you've ever seen."
The little man stumbled backward. As he turned and hurried away he muttered, "I don't know why I do this. Just trying to run a business, that's all..."
***
"What do you mean?" Giles asked. He tried to keep his voice from trembling. "Are you saying that Buffy and I..." His voice trailed away. He was too devastated to even give voice to his thoughts.
"Of course not." Gerard rolled his eyes in frustration. "How egocentric of you. Of course you are Buffy's Watcher. I am referring to Faith and Lindsay."
Giles squinted in puzzlement. "What?"
"Come, come Rupert. Use that wonderful, logical mind of yours for a moment. Have you ever known a Watcher to be activated so soon after the completion of their training. And even if she weren't so new, what about Constantine Spyro? He's a veteran Watcher, already in Boston?"
Giles shook his head. "You know that seniority has nothing to do with Watcher selection."
Gerard nodded, his face grim. "I know, and that is why I began to look into the process. I wanted to convince myself that I was paranoid. Instead, I found indications of tampering with the rituals, evidence of withheld information."
Giles was silent for a moment. "We have to tell Lindsay. We--"
"We must do nothing of the sort, old friend. If we inform her, what will she do? Resign? If she does that, your enemies will know you are on to them. If she remains as Faith's Watcher, how can she possibly serve if she believes herself to be illegitimate?" He took a deep breath. "Besides, it is possible that I am mistaken."
Giles' lips narrowed in anger. "Yet you still took advantage of her."
Gerard shook his head. "Must we always return to that? She does not have this knowledge. I did not exploit any weakness in her, especially not any weakness created by me."
Giles stared at his old friend. "You were wrong, but the past is past. What will we do now?"
Gerard shrugged. "I say do nothing. As far as everyone except us is concerned, she is Faith's rightful Watcher.
